Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (20 page)

“It looks like he’s off to hunt—” Ying picked up the tarantula and set it on the other side of her, letting it continue its slow saunter through the shaft, “—but I’ll accept that offer. I trust you’ll stand watch in a strong, brave, and manly way, so that I’ll be safe.” She turned onto her side, putting her back to him.

Marat told himself that her teasing didn’t matter, that he didn’t need to prove his virility to her, but he did find himself wishing that the spider hadn’t strolled through. Or that he hadn’t reacted to it. If she was used to having a strong, fearless father and being surrounded by tough pirates, maybe she thought his quirk was a weakness, one it was ridiculous for a man to have. It was probably too late to mention that a spider’s bite had almost killed him once and that his wariness around them was perfectly normal.

Again, he reminded himself that what she thought of him shouldn’t matter. By the time he helped her with Wolf, his shore leave would be over, and he would probably never see her again.

As these thoughts strolled through his mind, his gaze lingered on her. He caught himself admiring the curve of her waist in the dim glow of the light stick. She was barefoot, with only the robe for covering, and several inches of her calf were on display, a shapely calf enhanced by the tail end of that dragon tattoo. It would be quite pleasing to run his hand along her smooth leg, and it would be easy to do so, since he was sitting against the opposite wall of the narrow passage, no more than a foot from her. Except that she would doubtlessly lurch upright at his touch and punch him. She hadn’t given much indication that she thought of him as anything more than some strange mercenary who had tangled up her plans. Still, despite their contentious relationship thus far, there had been moments of civility, of pleasantness even, and he didn’t like the idea of never seeing her again.

Marat sighed and shifted his weight, making himself look away from the flesh on display. He took out his tablet and checked his messages. A priority one from Captain Mandrake was at the top of the list. Uh oh. Marat had muted his comm-patch earlier in the night, not wanting to be bothered again by Striker. He couldn’t have guessed that the captain himself would want to contact him. He
could
guess that the captain wouldn’t be pleased that he hadn’t answered.

Since he didn’t want to wake Ying—or, if she wasn’t asleep yet, have her hear the message—Marat opted for a text translation. The words floated into the air above the tablet, the background dark so he could read them without seeing the wall behind the holodisplay.

What the hell are you doing down there, Azarov? I got a message full of threats from Teneris Wolf. Says you stole his slave. Mandrake Company doesn’t need any trouble with pirates. There’s no money in that fight. Get your ass back on the
Albatross
by morning. Alone.

Marat sank lower against the wall. He had been worrying about Striker saying something to the captain. It hadn’t occurred to him that Wolf himself would figure out that Mandrake Company soldiers had attacked his android. The pirate must have assumed him responsible for the kidnapping and gotten Marat’s identity from the auctioneer.

He groaned, letting his head clunk against the bulkhead behind him. By morning, Mandrake had said. Marat should report in and explain himself as soon as he could—Mandrake had probably received the message from Wolf just after Marat had made his supply run to the ship. He must have just missed being detained. But “morning”
was
somewhat vague. What if he could deal with Wolf first?

But dare he continue with his plan now that Wolf knew who he was? Was there any chance that the pirate would believe the lampshade story? Probably not. Marat risked much if he showed up with Ying in the morning. Not just trouble with Wolf, but trouble with Captain Mandrake too. Marat wondered if there was any chance he could talk Ying into forgetting her revenge plan and coming with him to the
Albatross
. Captain Wolf wouldn’t attack Mandrake Company over a three-hundred-aurum slave, surely. But maybe he would. And the last word of the captain’s message hadn’t exactly invited Marat to bring back company.

Marat rubbed the back of his head. What had he and his impulsiveness gotten himself into? He hated to admit it, but he should have listened to Striker and turned his back on the whole situation.

He looked over at Ying’s form—she was definitely sleeping now, her side rising and falling in the easy rhythm of rest. Even though she hadn’t asked for his help, nor shown enthusiasm for his offer, he frowned at the idea of abandoning her, especially when he had screwed up her plan. But what other choice did he have? If he disobeyed Mandrake, he risked being kicked off the ship and left here. Worse, he risked getting the company into a battle with pirates. Mandrake might do much more than kick him off the ship if any of his people were injured in such a fight. Unless Marat could somehow give the captain a reason to
want
to fight with Wolf.

Was there some way that fighting the pirates
could
be profitable? Pirates usually broke far more laws than mercenaries. How could there not be bounties out there for Wolf’s head? Maybe if bringing him or members of his crew in was worth a decent amount of money, the captain could be enticed to involve the rest of the company.

With this thought, Marat returned to his tablet, closing the message and pulling up the network interface. It was time to research Teneris Wolf.

• • • • •

The bomb lay nestled beneath the table in the small bistro at the sidewalk cafe deep within Salvation Locks, the domed space station that mimicked the earth and sky, with a faux sun setting in the distance. Ducks floated in the canal that ran past the “outdoor” patio, and couples chattered, celebrating anniversaries or enjoying first dates. Ying and her father weren’t celebrating, but they were taking a moment away from work, drinking to the grisly anniversary of Mother’s passing and the loss of family and friends on Grenavine.

By pure chance, and because two bottles of sake had necessitated it, Ying headed to the restroom after dinner. She was on her way back when the explosion occurred. Even from dozens of meters away, the shockwave hurled her to the ground. Her father and the other diners disappeared in a fireball that swallowed the patio. She could only stare in stunned horror until she glimpsed a hooded figure fleeing the scene.

Before she knew what was happening, she yanked out her pistol and raced after the man. She ran down a promenade, leaped a canal, and chased the figure through alleys. He was too fast, and though she fired a couple of shots, she couldn’t catch him. Still, she tenaciously stuck with him, closing the distance as he ran onto the docks, toward a ship that Ying had encountered more than once in the years she had traveled with her father. The stolen Fleet medical cruiser, retrofitted to bristle with armament, belonged to Captain Teneris Wolf. Wolf himself met the assassin in front of it, shaking his hand, then placing a stack of physical aurums into his palm.

Ying could only stare from the rooftop of the port authority building several ships away. She was too far from them to shoot, and there were too many people passing in front of them on the busy docks. There was no time to hunt for the police, for Wolf was already disappearing back onto his ship.

The assassin seemed to have believed he had lost Ying, for he strolled away, no longer glancing back or fearing that he was being followed. Ying stalked him, taking her time now, careful not to charge about, firing her weapon. Not until she had followed him to his hotel and to his room did she strike, and not with a weapon. She slipped one of her poisons into the meal that he’d ordered from room service, trusting that he would eat it. She had checked back the next day to ensure he was dead. He was. But so was her father.

When she returned to the bistro, the authorities were there, cleaning up the mess—and the bodies. As she had been chasing the assassin and dealing with him, she had hoped that she might return to find her father alive, that he had escaped somehow. But she recognized his charred remains by the platinum chain he had always worn about his throat, a gift from her mother.

“I’m sorry, Father,” she said, feeling she should have known this would have happened, should have saved him from it somehow.

She reached out toward him, as if she could bring him back, but when her fingers touched his blackened body, it disintegrated, turning to ash in her hand.

Ying woke with a gasp, her heart racing. She gaped around her at the dimly lit shaft, disoriented and confused as to why she wasn’t back at the Salvation Locks, back in the artificial sun.

“Are you all right?” came a soft voice from the other side of the tunnel.

The illumination from a tablet display highlighted Marat’s face. Ying rubbed her own face and tried to wash away the remnants of the dream. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced it before. She usually woke from it in bed alone, without the need to explain anything to a stranger.

No, not a stranger, she amended. She may have only known Marat for a few hours, but they had been an eventful few hours, and his face had stopped feeling “strange” sometime between “I’m rescuing you from that pirate” and “Astrophysicist jokes show a preoccupation with rockets and missiles.”

He was frowning at her now with concern in his eyes. Something about the sympathetic expression melted away the walls of ice she kept around herself. For a moment, she was tempted to shift her position and to lean against him. Aside from the faint hum of some distant generator, there wasn’t a sound down here, and it was as if they were alone on the space station. Who would know?

Ying did not act on her impulse. She did not make a habit of flopping into the arms of men she had just met. She never even flopped into the arms of men she had known for
years
, not for emotional support, anyway. Sex on occasion, but she had never been the type to weep in someone’s embrace. Not after Grenavine. After that, nothing had affected her so deeply that she fell apart. Until now, perhaps.

She shook her head, wondering why she was thinking about this. It wasn’t as if Marat had given some indication that he
wanted
her in his arms.

“I’m fine. Is it my turn to stand watch?” Ying did not want to go back to sleep, not when the possibility of her nightmare returning lurked in the dim recesses of her unconsciousness.

Marat was gazing at her. Not intrusively, but as if he didn’t know if he should ignore her startled lurch out of sleep or not. Ying hoped she hadn’t been whimpering or thrashing about before waking up. She had never liked to appear vulnerable, especially not after she had joined her father’s ship. Vulnerability among pirates could get a person taken advantage of—or killed.

“It hasn’t been long. You can go back to sleep. I can stay awake a little longer,” Marat said. “I was doing some research.”

He looked at her a moment longer, then returned his attention to the holodisplay.

Ying plucked at the frayed fringe of her robe’s hem, groping for a way to tell him that she didn’t
want
to go back to sleep. If she had a tablet of her own, she could pull it out to read, but she had nothing except the damned robe.

“I—ah. I’m not tired anymore. What are you reading?” She shifted around until her back was against the same wall as his, though she didn’t presume to move closer to him, not sure he would want someone peering over his shoulder.

“Bad dream?” Marat asked.

Ying grimaced. She
had
been whimpering or thrashing—something that let him know she wasn’t sleeping peacefully.

“Bad dream,” she agreed, hoping he wouldn’t ask her about it.

“Been there,” he said, then switched the settings so she could see the display, as well. “Reading about Captain Wolf and the bounties on his head.”

“Ah. I assume he has some?” Ying scooted closer to read the display, though she found herself more aware of Marat than the words and images floating in the air.

He gazed down at her, and for a moment, she thought he might lift his arm to offer a spot against his side. But he didn’t. She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved.

“Mostly piddling ones,” Marat said. “Five thousand here, two thousand there. It might be worth it to a bounty hunter, but probably not for a ship full of mercenaries to go through the work of collecting them.”

Ying wasn’t sure why he brought up his ship full of mercenaries, but reflexively said, “Wolf’s ship is worth a lot more than those bounties. Killers keepers, that’s the law.”

His brow wrinkled. “What?”

“You haven’t heard that? It’s a pirate saying. If someone kills the captain—who’s usually the owner of the ship—then the ship is theirs, if they have the might to claim it. On the
Death Knot
...” Her teeth ground as she recalled the crew’s betrayal when she had tried to claim the ship for her own. Her father had owned it outright, and it had always been understood that he intended her to be his heir, but First Mate Deng had said it was his now, unless she could take it from him. He had stood there from the safety of the bridge, while she was at a comm console on the station, challenging her with his eyes. At that point, he had already pulled the ship away from the Salvation Locks
,
knowing full well that she had no means to fly out and reach him. His betrayal hadn’t been that surprising—Deng had always been vocal about his dislike for assassins, for people who killed from the shadows, and he’d refused to eat the meals she prepared—but the rest of the crew’s betrayal... That had stung. She’d had friends there, or so she had thought, but nobody had offered to help her avenge her father’s death or to claim the ship for her own. It was almost as if they had been planning for her father’s death. And maybe someone had been. More than once, she had wondered if someone on the inside had betrayed her father to Wolf. Those two had been enemies for years, and it was always possible Wolf had bribed someone on the crew. Ying hoped she got a chance to ask him that before she killed him.