Captive of Pleasure; the Space Pirate's Woman (The LodeStar Series) (6 page)

She’d served as a handy distraction, now he was done with her.

***

She was out of the cages, out of the cave and the roar of the crowd. Not free, but perhaps safer.
 

He
had brought her here, to this clean, comfortable, even luxurious craft. He’d purchased her, signaling again and again that he would top the bids from those other men.

She was still half-caught in the utter terror of being displayed on that auction platform, high above the raucous crowd of rough beings, their gazes crawling over her bare skin like a slimy touch, the Mau holding her in his painful grip so she couldn’t shrink away.

Then
he
had stepped forward from the shadows of the huge cave and thrown back his hood. And she’d known that here was the man who would save her.

Now she huddled on the seat of his craft, her legs drawn up before her to hide as much of her nakedness as possible, but focused on him desperately, holding him with her gaze to make sure he wouldn’t disappear as suddenly as he’d appeared. If he did, she might find herself back in that hell.
 

He was not hard to look at—in fact, he was everything a hero should be—tall and broad-shouldered and powerful. His skin was tanned, his chiseled features set with intent. His chestnut hair waved back from his broad brow, eyes pale and piercing in his tanned face. His mouth was sensual, yet firm, his jaw resolute.

And when he raised a commanding hand and called out his name, the sinister crowd shrank away from him, crying out in fear. Even that horrid little Vulpean auctioneer was frightened of him, and they gave her to him
immediately
. As if they’d do anything to appease him.

She’d watched him with awe, her fear now that something would happen to prevent his rescuing her.

Then the guard had carried her over the crowd to him and dumped her at his feet. She had wanted, for one moment, to throw her arms around his legs and kiss his boots in gratitude. But instead she’d waited fearfully, because they still had to get out of the caves, away from the evil ones who had stolen her.
 

Kidnapped, the Pangaean had said. And that seemed right, because how else would she be with such horrible beings? She was sure she didn’t belong with them. Everything in her was revolted by her surroundings, by the beings who struck and mistreated her, the stench and the discomfort. That was not her life, but a level of hell.

She would do anything to convince this man to keep her from that hell.

As soon as she figured out what that ‘anything’ was. Why was she here? Why had he saved her?
 

She was wearing this tawdry and incredibly revealing little costume, which she knew was supposed to be sexually alluring. But she was also dirty. These people said so, and it was true, she could even smell herself. She knew viscerally that this was very bad. She was supposed to be clean and smell of herbs and flowers, not stink like the latrines aboard the transport.

Pain stabbed through her temples again as she tried to pursue the simile that darted into the fog that was her memory. So she stopped trying and watched him. He was her present, her safety, the sun around which her immediate world revolved.

Joran stared, feeling that fist in his chest again, pressing at his air. She was going to be lovely when they cleaned her up, he’d known that. But those eyes...fuck him, a man could lose himself in their blue depths. Dangerous, like one of the drinks they served in space port bars—blue stars, they called them. Sweet and stinging going down, but drink more than a few and a man was laid out on the floor wondering what hit him.

“I’ll say she needs a bath,” Qala added. “She stinks like a back-alley whore.”

Haro snorted. “Like you’d know about those.”

“Whores? I should. I’ve smelled ‘em on you often enough after a night in the bars.”

“Can you kids save your quarreling until we’re out of here?” Joran asked, gaze on the entrance to the caves, and the crowds milling around.

The two Serpentians quieted, although Qala shot Haro a last glare before turning to watch for the others.

“You still have eyes on the slaver?” Joran asked over his shoulder.

“We’ve lost the feed,” Qala said. “They must have seen the bots.”

He nodded, unsurprised. Anyone in this dirty business had to be constantly on guard, alert to a range of tricks. Spybots were easy to shoot out of the air, once you saw them.

“Here they come,” Riley called from outside. “Wega, in.”

The stocky Occulan clambered into the cruiser, and sank into one of the seats, yanking at her long skirts. “Finally, I can get out of this damn robe.”

“But you make such a handsome tont-wife,” Haro teased as he swung by on his way to the cockpit.

The stocky ex-soldier bared her stubby teeth at him, then flipped a few of her eye-stalks around to stare at the girl, who huddled deeper into the corner. “What you lookin’ at?” Wega demanded. “You’re the one needs covering up.”

Joran kept his gaze on the crowd outside. “Come on, Var, Ilya,” he muttered.

Finally Var appeared, shouldering his way stolidly through the crowd, Ilya’s blonde head bobbing behind him. She was waving her hands as if scolding him for not buying her a servant.
 

“Fire her up,” Joran called to Haro.
 

“Already on it,” Haro called back. As he spoke, the cruiser quivered smoothly to life underneath Joran’s feet.
 

A few yards away, Var and Ilya paused to let a pair of inebriated humans pass. Behind them, two of the huge Mau guards shoved their way out of the cave entrance, and behind them came a Gorglon. They had murder writ on their ugly faces.

“Uh-oh. Guards don’t look happy,” Riley said.

“Nope. Reckon the discrepancy in funds has been discovered,” Joran said. “And perhaps the disappearance of some of their merchandise. Var! Grab Ilya and jump.”

The big man grabbed the small, slender blond under one arm and dashed the few steps to the cruiser, leaping on board even as the ramp began to rise.
 

The hatch slid shut behind them.
 

“Everyone hang on,” Haro called.
 

Var hit the nearest seat, Ilya in his lap. Riley and Qala swung into seats with the ease of long practice, and Joran fell back into the seat beside the girl. The cruiser leapt underneath them, gathering power for a sec and then rising straight into the air, above the rock columns.
 

They hovered for an instant, then shot forward through the late afternoon.
 

Chapter 4
 

“Nice work, everyone,” Joran called.
 

“We’re still not away,” Haro said over the intercom. “We have pursuit.”

“Of course we do,” Joran answered. “But anyone who tangles with Joran Stark...”

“Will know the wrath of the Storm!” the other men intoned.
 

“We shoulda kept our distance,” Wega said dourly. “Instead of showing off.”

“More fun to fuck with ‘em,” Qala said. “Like to see their customers’ faces when the IGSF shows up on the trail of the trackers I planted.”

“All right, weapons,” Joran ordered.

Qala headed for the rear weapons port, as did Riley. Ilya and Var began to check their personal weapons.
 

Wega finished fighting her way out of the capacious garment she’d worn and tossed it over the girl. “Here, put this on.”

The girl flinched but huddled into the garment, only her head visible above its enveloping folds as she curled up on the seat, still watching Joran carefully.
 

“Strap in,” he told her, pointing to the safety harnesses on the seat. She nodded and reached for the belt.

He headed up to the cockpit and slid into the copilot’s seat beside Haro. “Let’s give the bastards a reminder who they’re chasing,” he said.

“Thought you’d never ask. Hang on.”

The Hawk spun so fast they were facing their own backwash. They also faced two armed cruisers bearing down on them.
 

“I have the starboard ship.” Joran took the controls of the forward laser cannon.
 

“We have the port,” Var replied.

“Diversion shields up,” Haro said.

Joran waited, tense as cerametal. The new energy shields wouldn’t actually hold off enemy fire, but they could provide enough of a pulse around the nose of the Hawk that incoming blasts would veer off course a bit. With swift maneuvering, that was often enough, and Haro had even faster reflexes than Joran.

They flew straight at the other two craft.
 

Both fired. One missed, the other shot bounced off the shield and flashed along the starboard side. That was going to leave a mark, but at least it hadn’t penetrated the ship.
 

At the last instant, Haro dipped the craft and they slid underneath, dodging fire from both sides. Joran aimed and fired, directly into the belly of the ship to his right.

As they slipped past, the other craft exploded. Joran grunted in satisfaction, and Haro whooped.
 

Joran looked to the rear holovid display. Laser fire shot out from the rear weapons ports of the Hawk, and the second craft lit up in a fiery torch that tumbled toward the plains below.
 

“Got ‘im,” Var said.
 

“My kill shot,” Ilya retorted.

“I know, baby. Proud of you.”
 

“And the shields worked.” Haro pumped his fist. “Yee-hah!”

“Nice shooting, both of you,” Joran called. “Everyone, eyes out for more pursuit.”

Their immediate danger eliminated, Joran manipulated his com to bring up a new hololink. A small, three-dimensional image sprang up before him.
 

Another cruiser perched below the edge of the bluff, behind the caves. A huge man with a plum cast to his skin and long ebony braids stood beside the loading hatch, watching as a man and a woman hustled a group off of the foot of a steep path and onto the craft.
 

“Mako.”

Half-Mau, half-human, Mako had a ferocious smile and a voice as deep and rough as stones over wood. “Seventeen rescues, boss.”
 

“Good man. Take them straight to F City.”

“On our way.”

“What about the girl?” Qala asked.

Joran considered briefly, then shook his head. “No, don’t want Mako to have to land. The girl stays with us. She can go to F City on a supply transport—we’ve three coming in soon.”

Qala didn’t argue, but he could feel her disapproval beating at the back of his head. Too quarking bad.

“Any pursuit, shoot ‘em,” he told Mako.

Mako cocked his shaggy head, multitude of ebony braids swinging. “You think you need to remind me of this?”

“Sorry. By the way, no eating the passengers, either.”

“Ha, ha,” Mako muttered. “It was just that one time.” He leapt up the ramp into the craft. The hatch closed, locking him and the other two in with their passengers, who huddled in the passageway beside massive shipping containers. Every one of them looked terrified of their rescuers.

“You might let them know they’re safe now,” Qala said.

The holovid split as Mako swung into the cockpit without looking around. “Why? They’re less trouble when they’re concentrating on not shitting themselves. And we’re not away yet.”

“We got this, Storm,” called another woman from the passageway of the transport. A lean human, she had short gray hair and a sweet smile. Her utility vest bore no weapons, instead a large cross hung from a chain around her throat. She held a pack of water bottles, which she was busy passing out. “We’re going to hop into our safe pod, and settle down for the flight, disguised as a container of protein bars.”

“Of course you are, Sister Lettie,” Joran said with a nod. He broke the link and turned to Haro. “All right. Let’s go home.”

There was a short silence.
 

“And where is that today, exactly?” Haro asked. “I presume you had them break camp and move while we were gone.”

“I did,” Joran agreed. “Which is why we’re headed to...” he consulted a readout on the console before him. “North 5-5, east 0-9.”

“Ah, home sweet home.” Haro grimaced. “Hope it’s not on the north face of one of those peaks this time. I did not enjoy that.”

“That was chilly,” Joran agreed. “No, this one’s alongside a new stretch of the same river we’ve been camped on.”

“The ‘same’ river.” Haro shook his head. “Somebody needs to name the waters here. How about calling it the Snake River for those big quarking serpents with all the teeth that leap out of the water when a guy goes for a peaceful evening dip? Nearly shat in the water.”

Joran snorted. “Nice of you to show the rest of us they were in there. Hate to lose a hand or foot to one of ‘em.”

“Yeah, Draz swears they only eat fish, but I don’t how the hells he’d know. He hasn’t been here any longer than I have.”