Starlaw (31 page)

She saw the look of excitement on his face and plowed ahead.

“Barst could get into HQ. As your second-in-command, he'd have access to any computer there, wouldn't he?”

“Yes. And a message traced back to where Goll is being held would lend credence to the rumor. Barst would know exactly how to word it so the message would look real.” He stopped and turned away. “There's just one problem.”

“What?”

“I can't ask that of him. He's due to stand down from space duty, take a supervisor's job here on the planet's surface, and wed Gemma. I can't ask him to risk his career over sending a fake message from HQ—one that might get a prisoner killed.”

“That's his decision to make, Darius. And no one will get killed if the guards do their jobs. It might even be a good idea to send them an anonymous warning to be careful of who comes and goes from Goll's cell and to wear protective armor. Besides, Barst wants to see Goll get what's coming to him as badly as we do.”

“That much is true,” Darius said as he nodded.

“And can't he send the message from some general source at HQ? A computer everyone has access to or something? I mean … does he have to be named as the sender? The message is supposed to be
leaked
, for crying out loud. Nobody leaks anything and puts their actual name on it!”

He smiled at her. “You've got a devious little mind.”

“I told you, investigators on Earth use this pit-one-crook-against-another technique all the time. It's not anyone's fault if some idiot criminal buys the ruse.”

“I'll contact Barst. I think he and Gemma are still on the premises,” Darius said.

In the few minutes it'd taken to relay the plan, she'd watched his mood change from deathlike despair to rampant hope. His green eyes lit with conspiratorial camaraderie. Somber reflection was replaced with the excitement of action.

As he addressed the computer and she heard him request Barst's presence, his entire body seemed energized. He became the warrior she'd first met.

Finally, he turned to her with a broad smile on his face. “When I apologized to you, I meant it. And I won't ever be so presumptuous as to underestimate you again. Not on anything.”

“Good,” she happily told him. “And I won't lose my temper so easily. I'll ask for help when I need it, and put my pride aside.”

He nodded and slowly approached her. The gleam in his eyes suddenly changed from amity to something else. His gaze now was decidedly hot.

“There is one thing about this morning that I won't apologize for. Not now or in the next life.”

She swallowed hard as he moved toward her and sat on the bed, very close. “What's th-that?”

“I won't ever say I'm sorry for having done
this
.”

He pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips against hers in such a soft, tender kiss that she melted against him. Then she moaned softly, in utter capitulation. In that moment in time, she forgot everything except the feel of a godlike man's arms around her body and the passionate way he kissed. A wave of heat swept over her and settled between her thighs. She breathed in his clean, woodsy smell and would have pushed him backward onto the bed but an alert buzzer sounded. It took everything she had to break the embrace.

“Uh … is that someone at your door?” she breathlessly asked.

“Probably Barst.” He cupped her cheeks in his palms and stared into her eyes. “We have work to do but don't think this is over. It's to be continued,” he promised as he slowly stood.

She took that opportunity to pull her robe closer and walk toward the window where it wouldn't look as if she'd been about to ravage the man.

Things had changed dramatically.

She prayed her suggestions worked. To see Darius go back to the defeated status of only a few hours ago was unthinkable.

He turned and nodded as he let Barst into the room. The big bear man was dressed in a tunic, leggings, and boots but Gemma followed, wearing a lovely dressing gown similar to her own. The women embraced as Darius outlined the new plan.

Finally, Laurel knew she was considered one of them. And in that moment she knew that if anyone ever offered to take her home, she'd flatly refuse.

It seemed so long ago that she'd left. And maybe she'd changed, maybe she hadn't. But she couldn't walk away from the man she now knew she loved. As he animatedly told Barst of their mutual plot and Gemma insisted on joining their little conspiracy, she watched Darius closely.

Every move, every gesture, every ripple of body muscle was forever etched into memory.

Darius Starlaw was the kind of man to take action. He was bold, brave and deeply committed to doing his best at all times. He cared about his family and friends to the point of laying his own life down for any of them.

The man solved problems. He never asked anyone to do for him what he couldn't or wouldn't do himself. He'd gone into danger on a faraway planet, without asking for any help, ordering his crew to leave him behind if it meant their safety. If there was a better definition of bravery, she'd never heard of it.

He wasn't perfect, but who was? But he'd saved a stranger's life, without thinking of the trouble it might cause him, and brought her to a new world filled with possibilities. He'd expressed his heartache at her losses and every word of sorrow he'd uttered was the truth. She'd seen that in his eyes.

He lived life to the fullest and wasn't afraid of anything. She found herself wanting to share her life with him. He had a conscience whose edicts spilled into everything he did. Even now, when his friends would help him do whatever he asked, he feared for their reputations and their careers. Above all things, Darius Starlaw was a good and honest man. Though the plan they enacted might seem underhanded, no one was forcing their foes to say or do anything.

But they'd laid out this plan together. And in doing so she'd seen respect for her in his gaze; she knew he was the one she'd love forever. No man had ever come close to making her feel the way he did. Her heart surged whenever he entered a room; even when she believed she'd never have had anything to do with him his presence was always so galvanizing. They'd seen each other at their very best and at their very worst. She knew all she needed to know. He was the one.

All they had to do was get through the day. And maybe, just maybe, she could help him put his past behind him and live again. She took a deep breath and embraced the future for the first time.

After dismissing everyone from his quarters with the admonition to hurry, dress, and guard their expressions and actions, Darius fastened the last, gilt buttons on his best-dress uniform. His father's edict aside, he'd not appear in civilian gear.

He left his quarters and found his comrades at the end of the hallway, waiting for his last words.

The plan was all Laurel's. But the execution of it fell to him. And if they were wrong and arrests were made inappropriately, embarrassing dignitaries and defiling his father's fine reputation, no one would take the blame but him. But since the arrests, if any were made, were so sensitive in nature, he'd had Barst call for volunteers from the
Titan
's crew.

Without so much as asking a single question, every man and woman had stepped up to the call—sent out without explanation—to follow their commander's orders for a special, on-ground mission. Hundreds of them gave up leave time and were now gathering at the north end of the League Justice Hall, where any arrests would take place. His crew would cover all exits and access points to affect plans, escorting any dignitaries who might flee, to that north end.

Like him, Gemma and Barst were in the finest dress togs. Laurel wore the borrowed uniform, sans any patches or designators, as a show of solidarity for the crewmembers who were now her friends. He didn't dare to hope she'd worn the outfit for his benefit. But as her bright, intuitive gaze fell on him, his heartbeat quickened. He shot her what he hoped was his best encouraging look, nodded briefly, and faced them as a group.

“Everyone's communicator is in sync?”

They all checked their wide wristbands; he was gratified to see Laurel wore hers and pushed the proper buttons, indicating she'd learned how to operate the device. “Gemma, if anyone asks why you're accompanying Barst to HQ—”

“I'll tell them he's giving me a tour since the new construction took place. I haven't set foot there for over two years. And anyone who knows us knows we're on leave, and that we wouldn't be out and about without each other.” She shook her head. “I don't think anyone will question us if we just happen to stop by a computer console.”

“Agreed,” Barst confirmed. “Everyone knows the trial is today and that if we're to attend, we'd be dressed as we are. The crew's appearance would be to back you, in negation of any attempts Goll's defense team might make, Commander. Which is the truth!”

Darius briefly bowed his head in humble acceptance of a great crew's loyalty, but quickly continued with last minute instructions. The first of these he still directed at Gemma and his second-in-command. “After you've sent the message, join Mother and Father in their seats. As guests of the estate, you'll be expected there. No one will stop you.” He finally turned to Laurel. His last instructions were for her and were most crucial. Her face bore a determined expression; she awaited instructions as any eager crewmember might. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to be careful, but the words hung in his throat as he gazed into her lovely blue eyes.

“Any last words for me?” she prompted as he stood there staring down at her.

“You'll be given the chance to confront him. I'd rather not have you lie but … ”

“Darius, this is my choice. You don't need to warn any of us what might happen. We all know. We accept what needs to be done.”

Barst and Gemma supported her with vigorous, mutual nods.

“If anything goes wrong, direct all queries to me and me alone. Understood?” The request was sent to all present, but he still stared at Laurel. She nodded in consent and he knew they'd finally reached a relationship that went beyond sexual attraction. They were a team.

Barst held out his hand. “If there's trouble, the crew knows how to respond, Darius. We all know innocent civilians are present and that anything could go wrong. We're prepared.”

Darius took his best friend's hand, gripped it hard, and followed with a similar handshake for the two women. He'd have rather hugged Laurel, but the professional gesture might go a long way toward her knowing she was his equal. He'd accepted her as nothing less.

When they turned to walk away, a sudden wave of uneasiness struck. He'd have to sit and watch everything when he was used to giving commands. His father's orders concerning his suspended status kept him from leaving the viewing box and even acknowledging his crew. He was to go to the trial, accept whatever happened, then come home again. Then—if his father was satisfied his temper was under control and that he'd accept the decision concerning Goll's sentence—he'd be allowed to reclaim his ID at HQ and his command position. Currently, he couldn't officially order anyone to do anything. His crew, Barst, Gemma, and especially Laurel were all putting their lives, careers, and futures on the line, all on a plan that was scrambled together at the last moment, for no other reason than they rallied to his cause.

He swallowed hard and tried to calm his breathing as he eventually heard his sire, mother, and sisters approach.

If only Marcos were there. But his younger brother's ship was still stuck on duty, in some classified sector of space. At least that one member of the family wouldn't be blamed if something went wrong.

Determined no one else would either, he'd composed a letter of admission on his personal room computer and would automatically send it from his wristband communicator if anything went wrong. Everything in it pointed toward
his
being the mastermind behind any attempt to oust dignitaries allied with the Warlords.

“Son … you look like you've been waiting for a while,” Dar quietly acknowledged as he looked his son over. Then Dar tilted his head and gazed at him with such intensity that Darius had to look away. “Are you all right, Darius?”

“Yes, sir. I … I just want this over. I assume you won't mind the uniform I chose.”

“It is right and proper for you to wear it now. Despite my most recent edict, I will not deny you that.”

“Stand to my left,” Maelle told him as she regally looped her right arm through her husband's. “Girls … stand to the other side of your eldest brother, Nyssa first.”

Many times they'd appeared in public, similarly arranged. Darius knew his mother need not have spoken about protocol, but she acted as if she
did
know something was afoot. His lovely mother—the very first love of his life—squeezed his arm hard and gazed up at him with a look of such trust in her gaze that he hated himself for lying. But the plausible deniability his family might claim would only work if he could swear, and
they
could, that he'd never uttered a word to them about upcoming plans.

All fault for failure must be relegated to him.

“Ready?” Dar asked.

Darius simply nodded, squared his shoulders, and escorted his mother and siblings toward their waiting royal shuttle. As he did so, media announcers crowded around the palace, anxious to view and report on the family's departure.

• • •

Barst and Gemma gave Laurel a ride in their shuttle, letting her out within sight of the Constellation League Hall of Justice.

She was a good hour early but felt more at ease not having to rush in with any crowds already gathering to witness what had to be a very important trial.

Just like on Earth, news crews who'd obviously be broadcasting the latest events were setting up equipment that looked as odd as it was advanced. Small earpieces replaced any bulky, portable microphones. Cameras were operated by floating, pod-like android devices in front of the newscasters. Crews applied makeup and tested sound bites.