The Colonel's Man (4 page)

The slight ridges across the top of her feet caught her attention and her lips quirked again. Lifting her hand she checked her nose. Her fingertip smoothed over the familiar ridges and she sighed in relief. They’d reverted her appearance while she was out of it. Good, at least that was one less operation to go through.

She looked at the floor again. Okay, time for the big test. Standing. Shifting her weight, she let her soles touch the cool tile and transferred her weight. Hands on the bed, she pushed upright with only a small wobble. So far so good. Then her left knee started to buckle.

She swore, trying to grab the bed for balance. Her arms did their best to support her and prevent her fall, but they were weaker than she was used to. Crap, she must have gotten hit good to leave her like this. Bracing herself for what she expected to be a short but still jarring fall, her body instinctively tensed up for the hit and for the pain in her side to flare up.

It never came.

A powerful arm wrapped around her waist and caught her just in time. The breath left her lungs in a rush as she was pulled up against a hard male body and piercing blue eyes looked down into hers. He was big, that much she knew, remembered from the extraction, but memory was one thing and the reality entirely different. Heat and interest uncoiled within her, and her fingers automatically curled around his upper arms. Hard muscle and satin skin lay under her fingers, inviting exploration but she resisted. At some point he’d showered and changed. She frowned.

“How long have you been here?”

“All night.” He spoke in a baritone still heavy with morning gravel. “The doctors said I could stay if I didn’t bother anyone.”

He didn’t relax his grip. Her feet barely touched the floor, forcing her to balance on the toes of one while the other wrapped around his strong calf, brushing against the well-washed fatigues he wore.

He was close, too close, and his eyes toured her face as if trying to memorize every part of it. She couldn’t help wetting her lips with her tongue, then bit her lip when his gaze riveted to her mouth. His scrutiny this close made her want to squirm, and not because she was self conscious. With decades of alliance service under her belt, she’d long since stopped worrying about what people thought of her looks. So she had ridges. Two sets that formed a line down the centre of her forehead and wandered onto her nose. Trust her parents to meet and fall in love, and pass a matched set of the things onto their children. She didn’t care, they were part of her.

“Do I have something on my nose?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his decidedly sexy mouth as he replied. “No. Just admiring the change.”

He seemed to have realized their awkward posture and gradually straightened, allowing her to stand on her feet, but he kept his supportive arm around her as if he was wary she might fall again. The protective little gesture made her feel warm and fuzzy. It was rare that anyone considered her in need of protection. She was as hard as nails, with an attitude that made the most seasoned marines run for the hills.

“You really shouldn’t be out of bed yet till they get you cleared. We had a really wild date last night.”

Her eyebrow lifted on automatic but she managed to suppress the smile that wanted to curve her lips. Tall, dark and handsome, he had just the right edge of charm to make him dangerous.

“Does that line work often for you?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “Well, only if they don’t remember what happened last night, but you’re assuming I spend a lot of time hanging around the medbay looking for beautiful recovering patients. I’m creative but not that sleazy.”

She’d seen how creative he could be. The extraction had gone to hell in a hand-basket but both he and his partner had been cool under fire. Just the sort she was always looking to recruit for her own unit: Section Three. She just hadn’t expected the spirits to drop them in her lap like this.

Then what he’d said hit her and her lips pursed. Beautiful. There were two sorts of men who called a face like hers beautiful; the insane and the blind.

“Ohhh, you’re good. I might have fallen for that
if
they hadn’t undone the cosmetic work.” She pushed at his chest but it was like trying to move a lump of granite.

A confused expression crossed his face for a moment but it quickly disappeared as he smiled again. He shot her a reproachful look at her struggles, obviously not ready to let her go just yet.

“Now, now… We already talked about this. You really shouldn’t force yourself after waking up from surgery. You trip and fall and the doc’s gonna have to rework all those pretty ridges on your face again.”

She paused mid-push at his words. No one had ever called her ridges pretty before. Ever. Most humans tended to shudder on first seeing her, and both sides of her family were somewhat uncomplimentary about the visual evidence on her face of the other.

“Captain Hurst is used to it,” she shrugged and tried grinding her heel on his foot to make him let her go. Her eyes crossed instead as pain lanced up her leg. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a major pain in the ass?”

He seemed to think about that for a moment. “Well, there’s Drew and sometimes Colonel Hague whenever he yells at me, which is pretty much every week…and just about every other person I meet.”

He smiled, another grin that pulled at her feminine instincts.

“We haven’t been properly introduced though. I wanted to ask your name earlier but you were already out and no one else seemed to know. I had to learn your first name from the doc when we brought you in.” He grinned again. “Jason Scott at your service.”

He was a charmer alright. One with a cheeky edge that masked the dangerous side she knew lurked just under the surface. Although she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help responding with a small smile.

“Pleased to meet you, Jason Scott. Now, are you going to let me go, or am I gonna have to dump you on your ass?”

He winced. “Wow, we only just met and you already want to dump me? That’s harsh. I know the first date last night didn’t go so well, but I can make it up to you.”

He’d apparently decided to oblige her and after letting her prop herself against the bed, he slowly let go of her waist. Her balance was better now as her physiology adjusted rapidly. Even though her side was taped up from the surgery, she healed quickly so she’d be able to ditch the dressings by tonight.

“Okay I got it, thank you.”

She nodded as he withdrew the hand and arm he’d been holding out in case she went down. When she was sure she wasn’t going to face-plant again, she shot him a look from under her lashes, her lips quirking. Spirits, he really had no idea who she was, did he?

“An extraction’s a cute idea for a first date, but I’d eat you for breakfast, handsome.”

The blue eyes turned smoky and his smile shifted slightly as he replied in a huskier voice. “Well if it means I get to return the favor, you can nibble on whatever part of me you want.”

Lord, the man was incorrigible. She was in the medbay, in the ubiquitous lemon PJ’s after surgery and he was hitting on her. At least, it seemed that way.

“Let’s see if you still feel that way in a couple of hours.”

She winked, and stepped back as the door behind them opened and Captain Hurst looked in. His face cleared as he saw that she was awake and stepped into the room fully.

“Good to see you up and about, Co…”

She stopped him with a shake of her head as he started to call her by rank, not wanting Jason to know who she was just yet. The banter between them would all disappear when he realized she wasn’t an ordinary intelligence operative, and she wasn’t ready to lose that side of him just yet.

Hurst sighed. The frustrated but amused look on his face was one Arita was familiar with. Hurst was one of the few doctors she halfway trusted, and he was normally the poor unfortunate who drew the short straw for her annual medical.

“I’m assuming that your…ahh, companion has already managed to stop you face planting on the tiles? Yes, good. Then I don’t need to try and catch you when you let go of the bed.”

She turned wide-eyes on Hurst and gave him her best innocent expression. “No, I’ve been behaving—”

Jason snorted. She ignored him and smiled.

Hurst looked at Jason first then her.

“Right…” he drawled as he tapped his pen against the datapad in his hand. “Gunny, perhaps you can give us some privacy. You can claim your sidearm with Petty Officer Bates at the Nurse’s station, though please kindly try not to terrorize him this time?”

“I’ll do my best doc.” Jason headed for the door, then winked at her as he passed. “ See you later gorgeous.”

Hurst shook his head and approached Arita, laying down the datapad on her bed. “Your companion’s quite the character.”

She turned her attention back to the tall doctor. Grey-haired, with attractive crinkles at the corners of his eyes he looked older than she did by at least a decade. But he wasn’t, he was forty-seven, the same age as her and they’d gone through the academy together.

“He is. I can’t work out whether to laugh or slap him half the time.”

“Something tells me he’s used to both.” Hurst chuckled as he gestured for her to lean to her right side. “I’m just going to check on my handiwork if you don’t mind.”

She wrinkled her nose and leaned over the bed. Hurst’s hands were firm but gentle as he lifted her top to get at the wound on her side. She watched dispassionately as he peeled the dressing away a little. The sight of her own blood didn’t bother her; she’d spilled enough of it in the past.

“Who did I attack this time?”

Her voice was quiet, just between the two of them as she asked the question that always bothered her after she woke up in sickbay. The place didn’t look too badly busted up so perhaps there was hope. “Or did you manage to dope me quick enough?”

Hurst was silent for a moment as he took a closer look at her rapidly healing wound. “Actually it wasn’t so bad this time, apart from my bruised ego.” He smiled at her then turned his attention back to her injury. “The Gunny was able to calm you down quite well to be honest. We were all surprised to say the least. I haven’t seen you react like that before.”

He made a quick notation in the datapad and extracted a fresh dressing from his lab coat pocket as she watched him. He always did like making her wait but they’d shared history long enough that she knew she’d get the honest truth. He didn’t bother sugar coating the facts when he dealt with her.

“Had it not been for him, it would have gotten much worse. You were bleeding profusely and none of us could get close enough to administer a sedative.”

“Huh?”

She couldn’t help the instinctive sound of surprise. It was warranted. If they didn’t shoot her up quick enough, she was apt to cause havoc to escape. It wasn’t something she could control; once she slipped into shock her Tralaxian blood kicked in and put her on automatic pilot in a bid for safety. Since the species had developed on a planet where the sunrise could roast the flesh clean off bones, bleeding out en-route was a secondary consideration.

“Spirits, I’m surprised you didn’t have him in intensive care.”

Hurst shrugged as he replaced the dressing. “I really don’t know what to say except it seems that the Gunny was either lucky or he just managed to get through to you.”

He smiled as he wrote another notation in the datapad. “Once again your unique physiology astounds me. You’re healing as fast as expected and you should be fully mobile by this evening. However as per usual, kindly avoid any strenuous physical activity until…”

He caught a look in her eye and shook his head. “Yes of course. I warn you every time but you don’t listen.”

“You know me so well. Am I good to go? I’ve got a couple of recruits to pick up, and by that I mean scare the crap out of, and at least three mission briefs to sort out for the powers-that-be. Drinks later?”

“You’re on.” He slipped the pen in his pocket and picked up the datapad. The other part of her physiology, the Fenarian side, meant she healed a lot faster than humans and often Hurst had watched her walk out of a recovery room within hours after a surgery. This time was no different and he seemed confident in her full recovery. “Seven. The usual place, and the first round is on you.”

She grinned. “And the last’s on you, if you don’t hit the floor first.”

* * *

An hour later Arita stood in the middle of her temporary quarters. She’d showered the remainder of the dried blood from her skin and ditched the dressing. Hurst would be pissed but as long as he didn’t catch her, she’d be fine. Besides, the bulk of the dressing quite ruined the line of her uniform.

Her lips quirked in amusement as she dropped her weapons case onto the foot of the bed and snapped it open. Inside were her assault carbine, two trench knives and a heavy-duty pulse pistol. Ignoring the first and the second, she selected the pistol and loaded a powerpack before holstering it at her hip. She was on someone else’s ship, but there was no way she was going unarmed if she didn’t have to. It just didn’t sit right with her. And it was unlikely the Captain of the
Mandrakion
would argue with the head of Section Three, a woman who was known to have cast iron balls and the attitude to back them it.