Starflight (7 page)

They’d found her.

“Did you feel that?” Doran asked, gawking at his hands. “It was like a million bees crawling over my skin.”

The sickening buzz passed through her again. Solara opened her mouth to cry out, but she didn’t get a chance. The ship turned sharply and rolled to the left until she was hanging upside down by her harness straps. A discarded cup clattered against the ceiling, making her grateful the furniture was bolted down. The floor trembled with something new, and then a horrible screech rent the air as the ship rocketed forward with enough force to glue her limbs to the wall.

Now she understood why the ship was called
Banshee
.

The room lurched and spun for what felt like an hour before it came to a sudden halt.

Solara shook her head to clear it. Had they landed?

All motion seemed to have stopped, but dizzy as she was, she couldn’t be sure. The captain’s voice blared through the intercom, and the urgency in his tone sent a pang of fear through her. If a man like Rossi was anxious, it must be bad.

“We made an unplanned stop,” he barked. “All hands report to the bridge.”

Solara’s left arm was pinned awkwardly beneath the harness strap, so she brought her free hand to the buckle and fumbled with the release button. She had to find a place to hide from the Enforcers. Kidnapping was a capital offense, and Doran hadn’t been lying when he’d said his family had connections in the Solar League.

Cold sweat slicked her hand, causing her grasp to slip from the fastener until she whimpered and tugged at the strap. She turned to Doran and said, “Help me out of these buckles.”

But instead of making himself useful, he sat there with a palm clapped over his mouth, swallowing in noisy gulps like he might lose his supper.

As Solara wiped the sweat from her hand, panic morphed into anger. She should’ve known better than to rely on Doran Spaulding in a crisis. “Never mind,” she shouted. “I’ll figure it out myself, since you’re totally helpless.”

Doran wrenched his head around and fired an all-too-familiar glare at her. “I’m not helpless, and I
do
matter!” He flinched as if he’d startled himself with his own words, and Solara did the same—because he’d just responded to something she’d said on board the
Zenith
.

“What?” She pretended not to understand him while praying it was nothing more than a fluke. If his memory had returned, there was no point in running. He would lead the Enforcers right to her. “Where did that come from?”

Twin lines appeared between his brows. “I don’t know. It just slipped out.” His tone sharpened when he added, “But don’t say that to me. I’m not helpless.”

“All right.” She released a breath and sat back, pointing at her straps. “Show me.”

With surprisingly deft fingers, he unfastened his harness before scooting over to start on hers. But as soon as he reached out, he paused with his fingertips suspended an inch from the buckles. A bloom of color fanned out across his cheeks, and he nervously licked his lips.

Solara glanced down and saw the problem. There was no way to free her from the tight straps without touching her breasts. She rolled her eyes. He was awfully prudish for someone who’d left his girlfriend’s thong in the elevator.

“This isn’t the time for modesty,” she told him. “Just do it.”

He got to work, and within seconds, she shrugged out of the harness and stood up. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her, and she gripped the wall for support. It took a few moments for the dizzy spell to pass, but then she regained her focus and opened the bedroom door.

Doran peeked over her shoulder into the dim hallway. “What now?”

That was the million-credit question. Solara didn’t know where the ship had landed or what she would find beyond the doorway, but anything was better than cowering in her room. Steeling herself, she led the way into the hall.

“Now we move.”

N
o free vacation was worth this.

Doran’s stomach heaved and his mouth flooded with saliva, but he gulped hard, willing himself not to vomit as he followed Lara through their rusted tin can of a ship. He hated small spaces like this. The metal walls seemed to shrink, contracting around his rib cage until he had to close his eyes to draw a lungful of air. He knew the sensation wasn’t real, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she’d booked passage on the
Banshee
instead of a luxury liner. This ship was a dump. He shouldn’t have to share a room with anyone—or sleep on the damned floor. Hell, his second apartment was larger than this piece of dung.

Wait. Second apartment?

He froze in place as images flashed before him of a bright living room furnished with plush leather sofas and tables made of etched glass. Sunlight peeked between the narrow slats of UV-resistant window blinds, which he instinctively knew concealed a stunning panorama of the city skyline. He’d finessed many a date out of her skirt with that view. He recalled that down the hall and past the guest room was his master suite, with a king-sized bed facing the theater wall, so he could fall asleep watching movies. But that wasn’t the best part. He’d had the adjoining room customized to store his clothes—that way he would never have to walk inside another closet.

The luxurious penthouse was his second home, where he’d stayed on weekends or when his boarding academy was between sessions.

Doran smiled. He had more money than God.

So what the blazes was he doing here?

He jogged to catch up with Lara, who crouched at the end of the hallway and peered around the corner like a mouse looking for a place to hide.

Not a mouse,
he thought.
A rat.

Doran didn’t know where that’d come from, but something about this girl was off level. She still hadn’t produced a contract—possibly because there wasn’t one—and twice at supper, he’d caught her glaring at him like she wanted to drive a fork through his head. And why did she want to visit the outer realm? Only two kinds of people ended up there: settlers who couldn’t afford to live on Earth and the scum who preyed on them.

Which was Lara?

“Hey,” he whispered, making her jump. “I want answers.”

She whirled on him and slapped a palm over her heart, then whisper-yelled, “Don’t creep up on me like that!”

Even in the faint glow of the emergency lighting, he saw her birthmark thumping wildly at the base of her throat and her gloved hands trembling. It reminded him of the way she’d whimpered and clawed at her harness a few minutes ago. Despite her dodgy behavior, a thread of compassion tugged at Doran’s heart. He’d felt a similar panic in the outpost, where she could have left him but chose not to.

“Fine. We’ll talk later,” he said. “What are we doing?”

She thumbed toward the stairs leading to the bridge. “Listening to hear what’s going on.”

“Why?” he asked. “Just go talk to the captain. I’d say ten thousand fuel chips entitles you to a status update.”

“Not yet,” she said. “Not until I know it’s—”

A clattering of boots interrupted her, at least two pairs heading quickly down the stairs in their direction. Doran stepped into the main corridor to intercept the crew. Lara grabbed at his sleeve, but he shook her off. If she wanted answers, they wouldn’t find them by lurking in the shadows.

“Hello?” he called.

The footsteps halted for a moment, and then the two young ship hands stepped into view. Doran couldn’t remember their names, but the girl yelled like it was her job, and the boy had an oily smile that he used on everyone except the girl. The pair seemed to enjoy spitting curses at each other, and yet they stood so closely in the passageway that their shoulders touched.

Doran couldn’t quite figure them out.

They blinked at him as if they’d forgotten there were passengers on board. Then the boy flashed that annoying sideways grin and said, “Sorry for the bumpy ride. Everything’s fine now.” His stomach rumbled, and he pressed a hand over it while making an apologetic face. “The galley’s a mess. I’m afraid we’ll all have to hold out till breakfast. We’re docked here until morning, so you should go ahead and turn in.”

“Where’s
here
?” Lara asked from her hiding spot around the corner.

The blond girl must’ve smelled Lara’s fear because she retracted her fangs. “An old lunar colony,” she said sweetly. “It’s abandoned. We come here sometimes when we need a quiet place to…uh…”

“Sleep,” finished the boy. “Captain’s worn-out, and the autopilot’s on the blink.”

Lara glanced up and down the hall. “Did anyone follow us?”

Blond dreadlocks bounced as the pair shook their heads, and based on the question, Doran wondered if Lara was worried about privateers. He couldn’t really blame her. Organized crime flourished in space, where Enforcers were spread too thin to prevent it. But most convicts were motivated by profit, and like all businessmen, they ran a cost-benefit analysis before attacking a vessel.

“A ship this small won’t catch a pirate’s eye,” Doran told her. “Not enough cargo in the hold. The ship-jackers won’t want it, either. Flying this heap to the nearest salvager would cost more in fuel than it’s worth.” He threw a glance at the ship hands. “No offense.”

The girl shrugged. “He’s right. We’re safe here. So try to get some rest.”

Lara agreed, but as soon as they returned to their room, she pointed at the door and told Doran, “Bolt that. I don’t know why the captain docked here, but there’s nothing wrong with the autopilot.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know,” she told him. “Trust me.”

Trust her? That was almost funny—
almost
. He slid the bolt into place, then leaned back against the door and folded both arms across his chest. “Speaking of blind faith, where’s our contract?”

“Around here somewhere,” she said, unfastening her braids. “I’ll look tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you’ll find it.” He studied her reaction by the dim glow of the exit light mounted above the door. Her face betrayed nothing, but she couldn’t hide the sudden stillness in her chest. “Because there’s no contract, is there?”

“I wish there wasn’t. More than you know.”

“I remembered something earlier,” he said, tapping an index finger against his head. “I have money. Tons of it.”

“Congratulations.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

“So why would I indenture myself to you, or anyone else?”

With her back turned, she loosened each plait until her hair hung in waves that curled around her waist. Then she spun to face him and puffed a sigh. “Fine. You caught me. I guess there’s no use pretending anymore.”

Doran settled in and waited for the punch line.

“I lured you onto this ship,” she said, “because I couldn’t get enough of your scintillating personality.”

There it was.

“Kiss me, Doran,” she cried, flopping onto the mattress with one arm slung over her eyes and the other clutched to her breast. “I burn for you, hotter than a thousand hells.”

He cocked his head to the side. “I think there’s an ointment for that.”

“Desire like this can’t be tamed by medicine.”

“I’m glad you think this is funny.”

“Listen,” she said, and pushed onto one elbow. “We’re not friends. You don’t confide in me. So I don’t know why you came on this trip, or what your motives were. Maybe it had something to do with that job on Obsidian. Maybe not. But in case you’ve forgotten, I tried to send you back to Earth.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” It was the one hole in his theory that he didn’t work for her. “But something doesn’t feel right.”

“Nobody held a gun to your head and made you board this ship.” She pulled a blanket over her legs and used its concealment to remove her pants, then tossed them onto the floor along with an extra pillow. “So let’s drop it and get some sleep.”

He didn’t want to let it go, but what could he say? Lara had a point. She hadn’t forced him to tag along. He’d come willingly, and the more he thought about it, the more he believed the Obsidian job was the reason.

A memory teased at him, the barest recollection of a man’s voice urging Doran to visit the beaches and pretend he was on vacation. The job was a secret, and the sudden heaviness in his stomach made him believe it might not be entirely legal. That would explain his odd travel arrangements.

He gathered his blankets and made a pallet on the steely floor. But it wasn’t the cold metal that kept him tossing and turning for an hour. He didn’t want to believe he would do anything criminal. He wasn’t like that, was he?

Doran didn’t know, and that scared him a little.