03 Solar Flare - Spark Series

Solar Flare

by

Autumn Dawn

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Autumn Dawn on Smashwords

Solar Flare

Copyright © 2011 by Autumn Dawn

www.autumndawnbooks.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

* * * * *

DEDICATION

To God for the talent…and the stubbornness.
Help me to use it for good and not evil.

For the daydreamers. Don’t be afraid to share
your worlds with rest of us.

To beta reader Judy Stone. You’ve been a
blessing.

To my children, and our hope for the
future.

To my husband John. Always.

CHAPTER 1

Fog curled and rolled off her windshield as
Brandy slowly drove her transport home. The buildings and alleys
gleamed slick and black, a gift of the drenching fog. At this hour,
the streets were virtually deserted.

She was tired and the old breaks her bones
ached. Though they’d healed years ago, they hurt when the barometer
dropped, made her grouchy. She wanted nothing more than a warm bed
and eight hours of blessed unconsciousness.

She’d concluded her business with the vintner
around one in the morning and absent- mindedly turned down this
back road. While perfectly acceptable in daylight, this shortcut
had been a bad choice at this time of night. Close to the slums, it
had been the sight of more than one mugging.

Unfortunately she didn’t register her
location until it was too late to retreat. Committed, she kept her
doors locked and eyes open. In ten minutes she’d be home.

She mentally grumbled at the merchant who’d
kept her out. Vio Srie’s expensive wines had won numerous awards,
which she coveted for her family’s inn, and he was particular with
whom he dealt with. She’d been obliged to attend a dinner party at
his home before she’d been deemed worthy. Both he and his wife were
wealthy and enjoyed showing off their fine home and the talents of
their exuberant chef. They also loved to talk, so much so that
Brandy hadn’t been forced to contribute much to the conversation.
Though she’d been thoroughly bored, it was a small price to pay for
the contract she’d finally wrung out of the man. The Spark, her
family’s inn, would now carry the exclusive wines. It was just one
more step in catering to a clientele that had grown increasingly
select.

Sometimes she missed the days when it had
been nothing more than a rough and ready tavern. She wondered what
her father would have thought of the changes. A hard working
immigrant, she couldn’t picture him serving wine out of crystal
glasses to pampered guests, but he’d never shied from success.
Perhaps he would have adapted.

Her thoughts distracted her, and she didn’t
see the man leap out of the shadows until it was too late. She
slammed on her brakes, but the transport hit his legs, hard. The
impact threw him up on the windshield in a broken sprawl. Her
abrupt stop caused him to roll down off her hood and onto the
payment, where he lay, unmoving.

She stared at the body in horror. Was he
dead? Would she get a ticket for this?

She had one foot out the door when he
stirred. She hesitated. So he wasn’t dead. Was he dangerous? They
weren’t in the best part of town, and he had been running. She
listened, but couldn’t hear any sirens. Whatever had chased him, it
wasn’t the cops.

In the few seconds it took her to calculate
her odds of calling the paramedics and backing out of there, he
managed to get to his knees. That was done slowly enough that she
felt pretty safe. Just to be sure, she called from the safety of
her vehicle, “Hey, are you okay? Alive, I mean? Should I call
someone?” She knew her first questions were stupid, but she was a
little rattled. At least the last query had shown some sense.

The man got to his feet with a speed that
astonished her, then lunged for her door. Brandy barely had time to
squeak before he pushed her over to the passenger seat. “Get
over—I’m driving.”

She was surprised, but not stupid.
Ordinarily, she would have kept scooting and jumped out the
passenger side door before he could grab her. It was his hair that
stopped her. As she watched, it shifted from blond to emerald
green. The widow’s peak filled in, thickened, and the winged brows
disappeared, replaced by angry green slashes. The brows lowered as
he shot her a glare. With a start, she recognized him. “Azor?”

He shot her a dark look and abruptly
accelerated. A surprised huff escaped her as she was shoved back in
the seat by the speed. “Are you crazy?” she demanded as she fumbled
with her seatbelt. “How hard did you hit your head?” She glanced in
the rear display and froze. The screen showed five men and a woman
racing out of the alley behind them. They skidded to a halt and
stared after the transport. Harsh streetlights lit them from
behind, making their features hard to make out, but she could see
the outline of clubs and knives. “Who are those guys?”

“No one you need to know.” Azor glanced at
the display, then kept his eyes on the road. It was a good thing,
since he drove like a maniac. At this speed they’d either become
wet splats on a wall or be arrested for reckless driving.

Then again, maybe he could talk his way out
of it. After all, he was a cop.

Brandy scrutinized him and added up the
clues. His long green hair was loose, and he smelled like smoke.
With his dark green leather jacket and thigh hugging pants, he was
definitely out of uniform. Curiously, the old knife wound on his
face was missing. She’d have thought it would have added to the
image he was after, but maybe it was too easily identified.
Normally, he was missing the tip of one ear as well, but it was
well and whole tonight. His earring was gone, though. She’d never
seen him without it. Had she caught him in the middle of shift?
Maybe tapping him had jolted his concentration.

Usually the sight of his grim face made her
grumpy—after all, it came with bad memories. Tonight it made her
nervous. There was a dangerous air around him, compounded by the
fact that he drove like a player in a video game, with no regard
for their lives.

That wasn't her biggest grudge, though. The
man was dangerously hot, and she resented the way he made her feel.
She didn't even like him, and thanks to him, loathed cops in
general. None of that seemed to keep her from sneaking looks when
he wasn't looking. It drove her crazy that she couldn’t control her
juvenile, unmanageable attraction to him, so for spite she adopted
a waspish attitude toward him. Was there anything worse than a man
a girl disliked knowing that he was desired? No sense giving him
more of an advantage than he already had.

Her attitude seemed to be the last thing on
his mind at that moment. Tall like most Kiuyians, his long legs
were crammed against the dash since he hadn’t taken the time to
adjust the seat. Cursing under his breath, he reached down and
thumbed the tab to give him more room.

She might have heard something about short
women in his muttering. Taking the offensive out of principal, she
retorted, “Sorry. Next time maybe you ought to wait for a leggy
dancer before you steal a woman’s car. You know, someone with
tattoos and big hair.” Her own red hair was straight and fell to
her chin in a chic pageboy, and her height was nothing to brag
about. She wasn’t that short, though. It was just his extreme
height that made her look like a doll.

She gave him a cold stare as she continued,
“But I guess theft goes well with your disguise. You are playing
some kind of thug, aren’t you?”

The “thug” gave her an irked look out of eyes
the same dark emerald as his hair. “It’s nothing you need to know
about.”

So he wanted to keep a low profile, did he?
How it must annoy him for someone who knew him to blow his cover.
She smiled, beginning to enjoy herself. “I wonder what you’re worth
to your friends back there?”

“It’s not smart to blackmail a cop.” He spoke
in the deep, rasping tones of someone who spent his days inhaling
hellfire. “Besides, my cover’s already been blown.”

“Hence the posse. What a shame.” She looked
out the window and noticed they weren’t headed back to the inn. “I
realize you have a few things on your mind, but you do know I live
in the other direction, right?” Of course he did. He’d been to The
Spark many times.

“We’re making this look like a car jacking,
just in case. I’ll drop you off where you can hail a cab.”

She looked at him incredulously. “And what do
you intend to do with it then?”

“I’ll arrange to have it impounded. You can
collect it tomorrow.” He pulled up next to an all night diner.
“Out.”

She was speechless with indignation for about
four seconds. “I thought you were supposed to be one of the good
guys! You can’t just drop me off in the middle of nowhere without
even cab fare.”

He reached into his pocket and handed her a
couple of coins. “That gentlemanly enough for you? Saints know you
don’t need it.” They both knew The Spark did very well.

“That’s not the point,” she growled, but
didn’t give back the money. Perversely, she hoped she’d just
emptied his pockets.

Since she wasn’t moving, he crowded close.
“Get out, Brandy.” His voice had gone artic. There would be no
argument.

She knew she couldn’t fight him, but she did
offer a parting shot. “I hope you get hemorrhoids.” She slid out of
the transport, but didn’t slam the door. She wanted it to remain
pristine. That way if he scratched it, she could sue him for every
half-cent of his pitiful cop salary.

Just to be sure he got the message, she
turned and gave him a warning look.

He stared at her a moment, then smiled
wickedly. Just to provoke her, he squealed the tires and shot off,
leaving her steaming in his wake.

Brandy stared after him, her stomach doing a
slow burn. What she would give to have him arrested! As the idea
came to her, she smiled intently. Pulling her com from her pocket,
she dialed the police. “Hi! I’d like to report a stolen
vehicle.”

If the dispatcher wondered at her cheerful
tone, he never said a word.

Azor saw police lights in his rear view
screen and had to smile. He should have expected it. He pulled over
at the side of the road near the spaceport and rolled down his
window. Even at this hour, ships roared overhead, delivering cargo,
ferrying passengers. He could feel the breeze generated by the
thrusters as they eased to the landing pads.

The arresting officer, a young black
reptilian with golden eyes, was startled to see him. “Detective!
What are you doing here?” He lisped slightly, due to his forked
tongue.

“Working. You’re just in time to give me a
ride back to the station. While you’re at it, arrange a tow for
this transport. I want it impounded.”

“Yes, sir!” The young officer didn’t bother
with further questions. Not only did the detective outrank him, he
was going back to the station anyway. The chief would handle any
lingering questions there.

Azor waited until he got to the station to
call her. The least he could do was ensure she’d gotten home all
right.

As he’d expected, a sleepy voice picked up on
the other end. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Xera, if this is
you, your timing sucks! I know it’s long distance, but you have a
talent for waking me up.”

Long distance didn’t quite cover it. Xera
lived on the Scorpio home world, Rsik, and it was an eight-month
journey to get there, even on the fastest starship. She had to pin
beam her messages through a wormhole, then use relays to bounce it
to her sisters. It was expensive, but fortunately she was married
to a man who could afford it. One would think Brandy would be
delighted to hear from her, no matter the time.

He smiled. He’d bet her sister woke her up on
purpose, too. “It’s not Xera.”

There was a long pause. “What do you want?”
She sounded uncommonly surly, but it was the wee hours of the
morning, and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.