She took a step back, leaving a low wave of relief running through him. Good, she’d seen reason.
Except then an apology seemed to edge into her expression. “I thought you might refuse, which is why I had a backup plan. Sorry, you’re probably going to hate me, and honestly, this is the lowest I’ve ever sunk. But I can’t let you get killed.”
Oh freck. That sounded ominous. “What are you—”
He heard a snap, then felt a light weight around his wrist. By the time he looked down, Cami had secured the other half of the cuff locked around his left wrist to her own arm.
He glanced back up at her, completely shook. But before he could even assimilate the fact that she’d actually cuffed herself to him, she slipped the e-lock into her cleavage, shoving it down out of sight.
“You—you—” He had nothing but a stutter and hadn’t managed to bring his eyes back up from her breasts.
“I know.” She sighed dramatically. “It was a ballsy gamble on my behalf. But I was banking on the fact you’d take your promise to my father very seriously that you wouldn’t ever touch me again.”
“You conniving bitch.” Why did that come out sounding as if he were in awe of her. Like he was impressed, not pissed. Probably because right at that second, he actually was. The underhanded harpy. She’d outmaneuvered him like a pro. The pissed-off part would come soon enough.
She sent him a smug smile, as if he’d just given her a compliment.
“You want to uncuff yourself and send me on my way, go right ahead.” She thrust her chest forward, even using her free hand to jiggle the neckline of her T-shirt.
“Jezus christ, no!” He brought his hand up to cover her half-exposed breast from himself, bringing his attention back to her face and making it stick there. “Put those away.”
The smug grin widened and she reached up to pat his cheek. “I knew you’d see things my way. So, when are we leaving?”
She stepped away from him, tugging on the cuff as if she expected him to come after her like a heeling retriever. He clamped his hand on the short chain separating them and tugged her back with a hard yank. When she stumbled, he caught her against him, but only long enough to set her on balance and then let her go.
“I am going to get you back for this,” he practically purred in a low, lethal voice.
But instead of appearing worried, she stared up at him with dark, hungry eyes, as if he’d offered her a serving of warm, rich chocolate. “I’m counting on it.”
Oh, for freck’s sake. The woman was going to see him dead. One way or another. But like she’d correctly guessed, he didn’t plan on breaking his promise to Blackstone. He would not touch her, not even to get that damned-to-hell key back to release himself. She wanted to be cuffed to him? Fine, she was about to get to know him really well. Maybe if he drove her crazy enough, she’d unlock those cuffs all on her own. Mission accepted.
This time, he was the one who stepped away, jerking the cuff like she was an unruly spaniel. “Come on, we’ve got shite to do before we launch tomorrow morning.”
“You’re giving in?” She quickened her pace to keep up with him as they climbed the ramp to where Jase was still standing by the pallet, unabashedly watching every second.
He held up their joined wrists. “Not like I have much of a choice, now, is it? Oh, that reminds me.”
He paused to pull his comm out of his pocket. “Selfie.”
Snapping a few pics of their new arrangement, he then held the comm up to her. “Thumb print here please.”
“What is this for?” she asked, though she complied with his demand.
“This is my insurance policy. Stating that you were the one who cuffed me and sealed with your thumb print and DNA. Evidence, for when your father is ready to turn me into a eunuch after we get back.”
“Whatever,” she huffed.
He put his comm away again, passing Jase, who was staring at him with wide eyes as though he didn’t know whether to be dumbfounded or amused.
“Qae, this is a terrible, terrible idea.” Jase took to following after him and his new accessory as they hit the stairs, headed for the bridge.
“You think I don’t know that?” he threw over his shoulder. “But Cami wants to play, so Cami gets to be in the starting lineup.”
“Oh good.” She rolled her eyes. “Sports analogies, my favorite boy thing ever.”
He didn’t reply, because as of now, he was going to do his best to ignore the fact she was attached to him. Which meant pretending like he couldn’t hear her.
Stopping in the galley, he retrieved his beer, sucking down a long swallow, but then fired up the coffee machine. He got the feeling he was going to need it later. One good thing he could say about being Rian’s chauffeur for the past year, his cousin refused to drink anything but real coffee—not the repli-coffee most people in the universe drank. And he’d been one of them, because he’d actually never had anything else. Unlike Rian’s parents, his own hadn’t exactly been floating in pools of cred, and it wasn’t like the military was going to foot the bill so the grunts could have the genuine, expensive stuff. But after Rian introduced it to him, he could see why his cousin was willing to pay the exorbitant price for real beans.
After he’d offered Jase a second beer—not bothering to ask Cami if she wanted one, he went through to the bridge and plonked himself down in the pilot’s chair to start running a system’s check. Jase disappeared downstairs, going to check the provisions.
“I can see what you’re doing.” Cami sounded far from impressed.
Maybe his plan was already working. At this rate, she’d be uncuffing herself and fleeing from his ship by nightfall.
She set one hand on the back of his chair and the other on the edge of the console he was working at, leaning down into his peripheral vision. The low-dipping neckline of her T-shirt gave him a perfect view into the shadows of her breasts where the key was secured. For half a second, he actually considered dipping his hand in there to search for the key. And whatever else he could find.
Except then he wanted to slap himself, because no doubt it was exactly what she wanted. She’d win either way. Besides, he took his promises very seriously. Especially when they were made to men who would kill him without blinking.
“It’s not going to work. I’m made of stronger stuff than that,” she murmured in his ear.
He set his palm on her forehead and pushed her back a step. “As interesting as that isn’t, I’m trying to work here. These systems need checking before we leave tomorrow. Unless you want me to miss any possible glitches that might see the ship malfunction and end with us dying in the dark depths of space.”
“Fine.” She perched on the arm of his chair then picked up his beer and chugged what was left in the bottle.
He stared up at her, unable to decide if she was utterly infuriating or completely brilliant. The only thing he knew for certain? He’d finally met his match.
Chapter Seven
It was a game, plain and simple. A game where ultimately the stakes might eventually be life or death, but a game, nonetheless. Cami knew exactly what Captain Qaelan Forster was playing at, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of it being too easy.
Qaelan had told his crew member to head out and enjoy the last evening with his boots on dirt before they left in the morning. Jase had passed an amused look between the pair of them and then said, “All right,” as if he was washing his hands of the situation. He’d disappeared into the lower levels for a few minutes and when he’d come back to bid Qaelan goodbye, he’d been wearing a jacket and a couple of weapons slung on the belt around his waist—standard accessories for anyone who lived on the Belt and wasn’t a complete moron. Her weapons might not have been as obvious, but she had half a dozen stashed on her body in case anyone was ever suicidal enough to make a run at her to get revenge on her father. It’d happened once or twice, but since she’d dispatched them herself without needing her father—or anyone else for that mat
ter—to intervene on her behalf, it’d been a long time since anyone had tried again.
After Jase waved and left, Qaelan had proceeded to go down to unpack and check all the provisions on the pallet. But before they could be put away, he’d decided that he needed to go through what few provisions he already had stored. Then the cupboards and recesses themselves had needed cleaning. Then the ship’s log, which kept track of all the provisions, had needed double-checking.
And so it went for hours on end, with Qaelan coming up with the most obscure, boring jobs a person could do on a ship. And all the time, she’d done her best to distract him. He was obviously hoping she’d get bored, or tired, or sick of him and uncuff herself.
If he’d known anything about her, he would have realized he was wasting his time, because there was pretty much nothing in the universe that would make her back down once she had her mind set on something.
Like now, as Qae was sitting in the pilot’s chair running the kind of deep systems check a person only did once a decade if they were lucky, or when they knew something was wrong with the ship and otherwise couldn’t find it. Instead of sitting in the co-pilot’s chair, keeping their arms outstretched between them, she’d perched on the armrest of Qaelan’s seat, much to his annoyance, if the brief look he’d cut her had been any indication. His plan of irritating her into releasing him was definitely starting to backfire.
Sure, she hadn’t exactly played fair, using every opportunity to get into his personal space, brush up against him, reach across him, lean into him. It was clearly getting to him, and she couldn’t exactly claim impartiality about it. Qaelan was hot. So hot. And she’d enjoyed their short time together the night before.
Even though a repeat performance had crossed her mind once or twice, she could tell Qaelan would stubbornly stick to the vow he’d made not to touch her again. It definitely wasn’t the reason she’d attached herself to him. She hadn’t planned to join forces with him just to get him into bed. And she certainly hadn’t come here simply to play with him. Once he gave up on the idea of getting rid of her and they left the Belt to get the creds her father wanted, she would be all business. She was Rene Blackstone’s daughter, after all. Despite the occasional contention between them, her father knew he could count on her to take the family business very seriously.
Until then, however—
She glanced down at Qaelan who was studiously not looking at her, a tension in his expression that’d been steadily deepening over the last few hours.
Until then, she was going to keep having fun toying with Qaelan until he conceded defeat and let her stay on his ship.
“What does this do?” She reached over as if she was going to tap the icon for enviro controls, knowing full well what it did. There probably wasn’t a ship on the Belt she couldn’t fly. Came in handy, since she’d had to steal more than a few vessels over the years.
“That controls important things like air, so if you want to keep breathing, I’d advise you not to touch it.”
He used one finger to push her hand away like she was carrying the plague.
“And this?” She evaded him to point at the nav settings.
“Navigation,” he replied, clearly trying to keep the vexation out of his voice and attempting yet again to intercept her before she could touch it. “If you could just keep your sticky fingers to yourself, that’d be golden.”
“I didn’t hear you asking me to keep my fingers to myself last night,” she murmured, leaning down a little. “If I remember correctly, we were just over there, up against the bench.”
Qaelan’s gaze darted over his shoulder to the bench in question, before he shifted in his seat like he was suddenly uncomfortable.
“Was it? Can’t remember.” He cleared his throat, tone not quite as nonchalant as he’d no doubt been trying for. “You’re not the first one I’ve had up against that bench, and you won’t be the last. It all kind of blends together after a while.”
She laughed because she could see right through his words. There might have been some element of truth to it—Qaelan was the kind of handsome, charming guy who wouldn’t have to work hard to find a willing partner. With a practiced smile and few murmured words, he could probably convince anyone to do pretty much anything with him. But there was a gleam in his eyes that told her the night before had been far from forgettable.
“If that was your attempt at trying to hurt my feelings, all you managed to do was make yourself sound like an intergalactic hussy.”
“Intergalactic hussy?” he repeated incredulously. He pushed to his feet and pointed an admonishing finger at her. “I could say something about certain people who get other people all hot and bothered and then walk off, but I won’t.”
She smirked at him. “I thought you said you didn’t remember last night.”
He arched an eyebrow, surprised but clearly impressed. Leaning in, he cast an intimate glance over her. “Oh, you got good game, girl. But I haven’t even started playing with you yet.”
He got closer, and her breath caught because for half a second, she actually thought he was going to kiss her. Except then he grinned, clearly noting her response for what it was, and stepped back from her.
“Come on. I think it’s time I took the advice I gave Jase and got out of this ship before I’m stuck on it for the next few weeks.”
“What?” Her mind was scrambling to catch up as he tugged her over to the galley. She’d never thought he’d decide to go anywhere while they were attached to each other.
He stopped at a compartment and flipped it open to reveal a startling assortment of alcohol, most predominantly made up by bottles of Violaine. But Qaelan grabbed out a bottle of whiskey and screwed off the lid, then took a long swallow.
“Drink?” He offered it to her with a little jiggle.
“Getting me wasted won’t work.” She attempted to cross her arms, but he wouldn’t give her any slack, so she only ended up with her free arm folded over her middle, which didn’t have the same effect.
Qaelan struck an exaggerated pose of indignation. “I would never get someone wasted…on purpose, anyway.” He sent her a wolfish smile and took another drink. “I’ve never needed to use alcohol to get my way. Usually my face does it for me. You really going to say no to all this?”
“God help me, you don’t have a speck of humility, do you?” She rolled her eyes as his grin widened.
“Life is too short for humility. Come on, we’re wasting what’s left of the night.”
He tugged her into motion, hurrying her down through the ship even though she was dragging her feet. A small swell of apprehension crested within her. Someone was bound to see them, and it would get back to her father within the hour.
Ah, but of course. That was his plan, wasn’t it? That she’d decide to release him rather than let anyone see them and risk her father getting even angrier. It was a massive gamble on Qaelan’s part—he had just as much at stake as she did, if not more. Was he really that reckless? Or just that calculating? It only made her more intrigued about who the hell Captain Qaelan Forster was.
So she forced down her apprehension and smiled brightly at him as they stepped off the ramp of his ship, pausing to wait while it closed. They’d definitely reached a stalemate. She wasn’t willing to give up the game yet. The question was, how far would he to go to win? Not that he would win. She’d make damn sure of that, no matter what he threw at her.
“Where are we off to?” She grabbed the bottle of whiskey from him, taking a decent gulp. It was good quality, not the cheap kind that burned the back of the throat, but the kind that went down smooth.
She saw it in Qaelan’s eyes, the brief moment of oh shite where he possibly considered he wasn’t going to beat her.
“The only bar in Tripoli worth going to,” he answered as he took back the bottle. “Besides, sweetcheeks, it’s where we met. Don’t tell me I’m not romantic.”
He winked at her before he turned away and set into a long-legged strid
e across the open spaceport. They passed the bottle back and forth a few times before they got to Wyl’s bar, and Cami told herself she needed to slow down or the night was going to end messy.
By the time they arrived at the bar, the bottle was half empty, but she was pretty sure Qaelan had drunk more than she had. Though it was around midnight, as usual the streets were packed and in the distance, lights from the bazaar lit up the night sky in riotous colors.
They’d gotten a few double-takes from passersby at their handcuffs, but so far no one had said anything. It was only a matter of time before her father would hear about this, however.
Except, she suddenly didn’t care as much any longer. Probably the whiskey had mellowed her out. But a lot of it came down to Qaelan. She was actually having fun locked in this unspoken battle of wills. More fun than she’d had in a long time. And Qaelan Forster certainly wasn’t like other people. The more she learned of him, the more she wanted to find out.
They stepped into the bar and much like it often did when she walked into these kind of places, the crowd hushed. As if people were afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing in front of her. Qaelan paused just inside the doors and cast a calculating look around.
Oh no. Why did she suddenly have a bad feeling about this?
He held up their arms so the cuffs were obvious.
“To save myself the trouble of answering the same question twenty times, yes Cami Blackstone and I are handcuffed together. No, it was not my idea, contrary to what my reputation might suggest.” He paused to grin, assessing his audience like he was an experienced stage actor. “At the risk of damage to my good standing as a legendary badass, let’s just say I’m her prisoner, and I won’t be escaping anytime soon.”
There were a few suggestive laughs at that, and Qaelan held up his free hand with a practiced grin. “It’s not what you think.”
Before he could say anything else, she brought down her cuffed arm and used it to grab a handful of his hair, leaving his arm bent back toward himself at what had to be an uncomfortable angle.
Entropy Page 6