Entropy

by Jess Anastasi

  “That’s enough out of you.” She steered him toward the bar, ignoring the catcalls and whistles.

  Wyl was waiting for them, arms crossed, looking like he didn’t know whether to be concerned or amused.

  “Qae, I’ve told you before not to bring your own drinks in here.” Wyl’s tone was long-suffering, but not really annoyed. There was a warmth of affection in the barkeep’s gaze that made her wonder just how close Qaelan and Wyl had become.

  “Extenuating circumstance,” Qaelan replied, wincing as she finally let his hair go. He rubbed his head, leaving his hair mussed, which somehow only made him look hotter. Damn, it was like he had some kind of superpower that meant it was physically impossible for him to not look good.

  Wyl sighed. “Why do you always bring your trouble to my bar?”

  Qaelan sent him an innocent look, punctuated with a charming smile he no doubt knew would make anyone forget about being annoyed at him. “Not always and not the worst of it.”

  “So if you’ve already got a drink, why are you here?”

  “To make a scene.” Qaelan saluted Wyl with the bottle before chugging back another mouthful. Cami was surprised he’d admitted that. And suddenly, his gamble to bring her here seemed ridiculously reckless. What was her father going to say when he heard about it? Too late now to fix it, however. People had already seen them, and Qaelan had definitely made his scene when they’d first walked in.

  “I think you’ve had enough of that.” She reached up and took the whiskey from him before he could drink anymore and handed it to Wyl.

  Qaelan sent the pair of them a baleful look. “The two of you ganging up on me now, huh? That’s not why I came here.”

  “I’m beginning to think you came here because you have a death wish.” She turned to Wyl, ignoring the way Qaelan was pouting at her. “Can we get some food, please?”

  Wyl gave a single nod. “What d’you want?”

  “Whatever’s going. You know I’d eat pretty much anything that Lottie cooks,” she replied, referring to Wyl’s chef who made the simple but delicious bar food Wyl served to his patrons.

  “I’ll see what’s hot.” He cast one last exasperated look at Qaelan before walking along the bar to the kitchen window.

  “And here I thought we were going to get drunk and keep up this angry flirting thing we had going back on my ship. Instead, you’ve taken away my whiskey and ordered me food.” He shifted to lean against the bar. “Anyone would think you were trying to take care of me.”

  “Well, maybe someone should,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “What?” His brow creased, clearly not hearing her over the noise of the bar, just as she’d intended.

  “Nothing,” she replied brightly, leaving him looking suspicious. “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep this up before you give in. Of course, now there’s a chance my father is going to track us down and hack off your arm, before no doubt taking to other certain parts of your body with his knife. I guess if you’re dead, that still means I win.”

  He sent her a suave smile. “Ah, Cami, but I know your weakness. You wouldn’t actually let your father hurt me.”

  “Wouldn’t I?”

  He came closer, sliding along the bar until the next breath she inhaled was laced with whatever aftershave or deodorant he wore, which smelled stupidly delicious.

  “The fact that you stood up for me against your father this morning kind of already gave that hand away.”

  “You’re right, I probably wouldn’t let him kill you.” She returned his calculated smile with one of her own. “But you could easily survive a few knife wounds. Or a missing limb.”

  “Ah, see, I knew we’d get back to the angry flirting eventually.” His grin widened, like he was actually enjoying himself, the same way she was. There might be something seriously wrong with the two of them.

  She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well, there is only one thing more satisfying than angry flirting.”

  At this, he moved back from her, obviously having guessed where she was going with it. “No. That’s out of bounds.”

  “For you, maybe. Remember, I didn’t promise my father anything. That was all you, Captain. So, if I want to stand here and imagine having the most amazing angry sex with you, there’s nothing you can do about it. Isn’t that right, Wyl?”

  The barkeep had returned with their food and didn’t look impressed about getting dragged into the conversation. “I’m just going to pretend I never heard anything. I like all my extremities attached exactly the way they are.” He settled a pointed look on Qaelan. “Unlike some people, clearly.”

  “I’m still in one piece, aren’t I?” Qaelan pulled a plate of food in front of himself and sat down. Roast meat, biscuits with thick gravy, and a few sautéed veg. It smelled amazing. “Also, I need a beer to go with this.”

  Wyl glanced at her like he was asking whether it was a good idea, and she nodded.

  “Damn it, Wyl, don’t make like it’s her choice.” Qaelan passed a dark frown between the two of them. “We might be shackled but she’s sure as hell not my wife.”

  He chuckled at his own jest while she rolled her eyes. “Great, now you’re making dad jokes.”

  Wyl put two beers on the counter and then pointedly went elsewhere, sending her what seemed to be some kind of warning glare as he went.

  Was he worried about Qaelan? This whole thing might seem insane, but she really did want to help him, even if he couldn’t see that teaming up would be the best way of dealing with her father’s ultimatum.

  …

  Several hours later, and Cami had almost forgotten about the impending doom of her father’s displeasure. Though she and Qaelan—no, Qae. At some point in the last hours, he’d told her to call him Qae. Though the two of them had eaten to soak up the alcohol, they’d ended up cancelling it out by each drinking a few bottles of beer.

  Their battle of wills had taken them over to the gaming tables where they’d tried to beat each other at anything and everything. Sometimes Qae would win, sometimes she would win. They were too evenly matched to say who had been victorious overall, and the happy, tipsy buzz they were both on made keeping tabs impossible in the end.

  Wyl had closed a little earlier and joined them after a cursory clean up. Qae and she had attempted to help, but he’d ended up complaining they were just making more work for him. He’d shooed them out of the way into a backroom office where Qae had pointed out a holographic dart board and the two of them had laughed their way through a couple of really terrible games. Wyl had walked in with yet more beer—one for himself included—and found them falling over each other laughing.

  After that, the three of them had sat down and the stories had started flying. She’d known Wyl since she was a kid. His father had owned the bar before him, and occasionally her father had come here for a drink. It was easy to tell Wyl and Qae had clicked to become good friends and she’d gotten a hint that maybe there’d been a brief something between them.

  Wyl had eventually kicked them out, so Qae and she had made their way out into the pre-dawn darkness. Storms were rolling across the sky in the distance, the air crisp but not too cool. The streets were nearly deserted, finally experiencing the brief lull they always did in the deepest hours of the night.

  If there’d been any real antagonism between them yesterday, it was long gone now. They were getting along like they’d known each other for years, not a matter of hours.

  As they returned to the spaceport, they were making small talk and tossing ridiculous jokes back and forth, both definitely still feeling the effects of the alcohol. When they walked up the ramp of his ship, the two of them were laughing at something Qae had said about hiding in a janitorial closet on a ship transporting elderly dementia patients because he’d been given false intel it was hauling expensive biochips.

  Except, her laughter died a sudden and quick death as she spied Kelvin and one of her father’s other men, Alfie, sitting at a crate in the carg
o bay playing cards.

  “How the hell did you get on my ship?” If the icy tone of Qae’s demand hadn’t been threatening enough, the fact that his hand was wrapped around the still-holstered butt of his pulse pistol would have given even the dumbest person a clue.

  Kelvin simply cast them a bored look. “He’s waiting up in the bridge for you.”

  No need for Kelvin to spell out who he was. Cami exchanged a quick, worried look with Qae. All that time they’d been out enjoying themselves, no doubt her father had been sitting here stewing.

  As they headed for the stairs, she caught the smirk that crossed Kelvin’s face and wanted to backtrack just to wipe it off for him. She sent Kelvin a scowl in return, which he paid no heed to, and then made sure she got on the stairs before Qae. He paused to settle a disbelieving look on her.

  “Can’t even go up the stairs first on my own ship, huh?”

  “I think it’d be better if my father saw me first, don’t you? Less chance of you getting shot on sight before either of us gets a word out.”

  He waved an arm magnanimously. “By all means, after you.”

  Maybe he was still a little drunk—her head definitely wasn’t clear—but he didn’t seem too worried at the prospect of facing her father, almost as though he trusted she wouldn’t let anything happen to him, like he’d told her.

  Yesterday when she’d stood up for him against her father, it had been more a matter of pride and taking responsibility for something that had been her doing. Since then, it was like she’d taken a crash course in all things Qaelan Forster. And she liked what she’d learned. He seemed to be a decent guy, and despite the circumstances he’d found himself in, he’d taken it all with good humor and a positive attitude. There were so many other ways he could have reacted to the ultimatum her father had set down, followed by her stubbornly—and somewhat ridiculously—handcuffing herself to him. But he’d dealt with it all admirably, and she wasn’t the only one who’d had fun in the last few hours.

  So yeah, she was feeling more than a little protective of Qae in the face of what was likely to be further wrath from her father. Because maybe when this was all over, she might have something new, something that was hers, and nothing to do with the fact she was Rene Blackstone’s daughter.

  And while she might have been physically attracted to Qae initially, if they never had anything else beyond a friendship, she couldn’t say she’d be unhappy about it. As sad as it was, she’d never had a true friend. Not one who’d lasted. There’d been a few over the years she’d thought might last more than a year or two, but inevitably—like her romantic relationships—her parentage always got in the way.

  Not this time, because there didn’t seem to be much in this universe that could intimidate Captain Qaelan Forster, although some of that probably came down to having Rian Sherron as a cousin.

  They topped the stairs and she took a quick, shallow breath as they stepped out into the large space that opened into the galley, and beyond that, the bridge.

  Her father was seated in the captain’s chair, and had apparently used the systems on Qae’s ship to do some kind of work.

  She stopped a few steps away, Qae coming to a halt right next to her, so close his shoulder brushed hers as he hooked his thumbs into his weapons belt in a relaxed pose.

  There was a long moment of silence while her father closed the program he’d been running and then slowly stood to face them.

  “The question I’ve been asking myself, while I’ve been waiting the last few hours for the two of you to return, is do I really want to waste my time hearing the why of it.” Her father crossed his arms, and even though it had seemed like a rhetorical question, it wasn’t.

  “I decided we should work together to get the eighty thousand hard creds you want,” she told him, wishing she hadn’t drunk those last two beers.

  “And the handcuffs?”

  Qae smiled serenely, as though he didn’t plan on saying a single word or helping her one bit. Traitor. She thought they’d reached an agreement and were in this together. At least the explaining-to-her-father-so-he-didn’t-kill-them part.

  “Qae didn’t exactly agree with my plan, so this was my way of making sure he couldn’t get rid of me until we left the Belt.”

  Saying it out loud sounded so dumb. But it had also seemed brilliant. She didn’t regret it. Not after the night they’d just had together. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much or felt so relaxed.

  Her father sighed, deep and long, looking utterly disappointed in her. “This is some kind of late rebellion, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Her mind was a little sluggish, the lack of sleep and long hours of alcohol finally catching up with her.

  “First, you fail to bring me anything back from the run to Culeth, then you make sure a bar full of people see you leaving with Forster after making a public spectacle of kissing him, and now the handcuffs. Half of Tripoli is talking about—”

  “And why does that even matter?” she interrupted, her cheeks getting hot along with her temper. “Who cares what they say or think?”

  “It’s not the gossip.” Her father loomed closer, his temper clearly getting the better of him, as well. “It’s what some people might choose to do with it. I vowed long ago I’d never let anyone use you against me again, but you seem to have forgotten that.”

  She flinched back, hurt and surprise crashing through her. “How can you say that? I’m the one who lives with the reminder of it, who has to see the evidence of it every day when I look in the mirror—”

  She belatedly glanced at Qae, almost having forgotten he was there, nearly giving away the one secret she’d held guardedly to her chest for years. But he wasn’t looking at her, he was staring at her father, and he looked pissed off.

  “Then, I would expect you to behave accordingly!” her father almost bellowed in reply.

  Beside her, she felt Qae stiffen and worried about how this was going to end.

  “Take the cuffs off, Camille. Enough of this foolishness. You’re coming home, and I’m going to decide what to do with you.”

  What to do with her? Like she was a bad-tempered pet? Or an unruly toddler?

  “What about the creds?” The words came out through clenched teeth. Never mind Qae getting angry, she was closer than she’d ever gotten to completely losing it with her father.

  He calmly crossed his arms as though he thought he’d regained control of the situation. “Captain Forster will bring me the entire eighty-thousand hard creds.”

  “No.”

  The single word from Qae’s mouth dropped like a stone into water. Her father looked at him incredulously. Probably because no one had ever dared tell him no so baldly.

  “Excuse me?” Her father’s tone was icy and menacing.

  “I said no. I won’t bring you the entire eighty thousand by myself. I have an agreement with Cami. We’re working together, which means you’ve been cut out of the deal. We’ll get your money, but you get no say in how that happens.” Qae stepped forward, closing the distance, clearly not intimidated by the way her father was glaring at him. “Of course, your other option is no money, and I renege on my promise not to touch your daughter. She’s a grown woman. And in case you haven’t noticed, she’s kind of amazing. If she wants me, there’s probably only so long I can hold out. You think people are gossiping now? Just wait until they find out I’m Cami Blackstone’s bitch and loving every second of it.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to believe he’d gone there. Tensing up, she prepared to get between them. No one had ever talked to her father like that and stayed breathing.

  Surprisingly, her father backed off a step, passing a calculating glance between the two of them.

  “Fine, Forster, I’ll do things your way. For now.” He smiled, but it was the chilly, deadly smile of a predator who’d already captured its prey. “But when your deal with my daughter has played out, then you and I will talk again. And the conversation is
going to end very differently.”

  Her father sent her one last admonishing look, then brushed by them and disappeared down the stairs. The second he was gone, she released a long breath and sagged.

  Qae turned to look at her, bringing both hands up to rest on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, an inexplicable lump forming in her throat. She’d never been an overly emotional sort of person, but she felt like she’d been battered by a cyclone of feelings in the last day.

  “You do realize it’s lucky you’re not bleeding on the floor right now, don’t you?”

  His suave grin—that was quickly becoming familiar—rolled over his face, lighting up his entire expression, like nothing could touch him, not really.

  “I understand your father well enough. Men like him, they only respond to an equal show of force. Or insanity. Either works, I’ve found.”

  “Oh my god, you told him you would be my bitch.” She brought her hand up to her mouth because otherwise she was going to start laughing hysterically and didn’t know how she’d ever stop, since her apprehension and relief were almost overwhelming.

  He pointedly looked down at the handcuffs. “Pretty sure I already am.”

  Funny, but he almost seemed satisfied about that fact.

  She took another calming breath. “Did you really mean it?”

  “Mean what?” His expression became serious as he stared at her. “That I’d enjoy being your bitch? That would be a resounding yes.”

  “No, not that. What you said about us working together.”

  He gave an expansive shrug. “Well, it’s what I told your father. And I never go back on my word. About the cuffs…”

  She dipped a hand into the V-neck of her T-shirt to retrieve the e-key. His gaze dropped, not bothering to hide the fact he was watching her every move.

  “So now we’re apparently on the same side, you want me to take off the handcuffs, and I have to trust this isn’t some new ploy to beat me and you won’t toss me off your ship?”

  A half smile tilted one side of his lips upward, and a calculating gleam lit his gaze. “I’m not going to toss you off my ship. But don’t think the game’s over. I’ve just come up with a long-term strategy.”