Thief (26 page)

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Authors: Anitra Lynn McLeod

BOOK: Thief
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“Jace, what’s wrong?” With a hand to his cheek, she turned his face to hers. “I have a B-chip.”

He wasn’t worried about birth control, but he didn’t know how to express his concern that he could never measure up to the men of her past.

“Is it your wife?” Pain filled her eyes.

“No, no.” He embraced her, kissing her cheek and nuzzling her neck. It never occurred to him that she would have her own worries about measuring up to
his
past. The realization melted away his concerns. “I’m afraid I won’t last.”

A relieved chuckle escaped her and puffed along his shoulder in a moist wind. “We can go as fast or as slow as you want. And then we can do this again. And again.”

“Slowly,” he managed to say, lowering her to the bunk and slipping between her legs. After waiting a decade, he was determined to make this last longer than ten minutes, but her lovely scent and passionate embrace made ten seconds seem out of his reach.

When he touched the tip of his penis to her slick core, she tried to wrap her legs around him and pull him deeper.

“Don’t move.” Gritting his teeth, he eased into her as he kept her gaze.

Her eyes remained open and widened as he entered.

The intensity almost hurt.

Ten years of celibacy, ten years of clinging to the past, ten years of denying himself fell away as Jace claimed Kraft.

Ever so slowly, she rolled her hips, encouraging his thrusts, until they worked frantically against each other.

He slid his hand between their sweat-slicked bodies. Kraft jolted when he flicked a fingertip across her clit. Rocking ever faster, Jace said, “Stay with me, stay with me.”

As her climax rose, Kraft answered, “I’m here, I’m here.”

Her body clamped down around him, tight and full, as the most intense orgasm ripped through him.

Fusing flesh.

For a brief moment they were one. Jace buried himself within her as if that could bind her to him. Where everything would be simple as one. Drawing her willing body to his, Jace knew they could not be.

Chapter Twenty-one

“We’ll be docked for a few days,” Jace said idly, after
Mutiny
touched down on Byzantine.

Kraft nodded, feeling a strange tug between freedom and Jace as she made a list of what the kitchen needed. Over the last few days, when she hadn’t been sharing Jace’s bed, she’d been composing a book of recipes. Doing so reminded her she would be leaving, and that day had finally arrived.

“I know you have work to do, but you have to sleep somewhere.” He looked right into her eyes. “I suppose here is as good as any digs you’d find in Kali.”

The longer she lingered the harder it would be to ultimately leave. “I think I could stay one more night.”

“One last night.” His voice sounded wistful.

“Jace, if it’s going to make matters worse—”

“No.” He cut her off. “One last night. We’ll make it one to remember.”

She forced herself to smile and lightly say, “I’d like that.”

Kraft left
Mutiny
with almost 150K tucked to a money belt wrapped around her belly. At the ready to her right was a modified Katana. To her left were a dagger and a revolver. Her black shirt, tucked into her black pants, tucked into calf-high black leather boots, were topped with a black duster. Her black hair was pulled back, folded in half, twined with black linen like a rope down her back.

She swept through the darkening Kali streets like a liquid shadow. Children scrambled from her path. Men and women, rich or poor, all instinctively moved aside. Kraft didn’t smile or frown as she strode past them.

Scores of IWOG officers on leave in the seamier part of Kali could have stopped her and demanded to see her bonafides, but they didn’t dare. Not a soul willingly intersected his path with hers as Kraft sought a hideously garish hell called the Den of Ishtar.

In the midst of the most atrocious poverty, the IWOG ran a decadent hell decked in red velvet with obscenely huge gilded doorways and mirrors. A shot of whiskey would run you ten—if you didn’t bat an eye at that, you would be allowed to enter and then encouraged to see how much you’d sell your soul for. There wasn’t a damn thing you couldn’t wager yourself into at the Den of Ishtar.

A quick flash of her script got her in the door with no questions asked. The IWOG didn’t scan high-roller gambling dens; it wouldn’t do to have valid proof of their own corruption.

Kraft picked her marks, settled at the table and got the usual little lady crap until she won the first hand. The joking ceased entirely when she took the next three.

Carefully, losing a bit, winning more, she worked her way up to 500K. To these high-ranking IWOG officers, what she took really wasn’t much. They resented her as a woman, but in the end, they enjoyed the experience so much they were smugly condescending. To her, 500K would buy her a ship and outfit a crew. To them, they probably pissed away that much in a month on their mistresses.

Kraft tucked her winnings to her money belt and thanked the men for a lovely evening.

They let her go with a cheery wave and a lifting up of their three hundred script drinks.

In the heart of Kali, dickering over some upgrades for his ship, Jace found himself surrounded by Trickster’s men.

“Trickster wants a chat.”

“I got nothing to say to that scrimshanker.” Jace turned his back on them as he considered again the electronics huckster.

A gun clicked and Jace felt a barrel pressed into his spine.

“He didn’t say it was optional.”

Jace went with the men to Trickster’s lair. It was as filthy as ever. “Some things never change.”

“Actually, change is the only constant in the Void.” Trickster leered from behind his cluttered desk.

“What do you want? I’ve got people to see, places to go.”

“I imagine you do. What with all that script burning a hole in your pocket.” Trickster’s upper lip curled.

“Is there a point to this?”

“Cut the crap, Lawless.” Trickster leaned back in his chair. “I know you knocked off that IWOG Transport station. I know Kraft ran the show.”

“So?”

“Maybe I’m hurt you didn’t think of trading with me.”

“Too bad. You’re not the only show in town.”

“I know a lot more about the show than you do.” His smarmy smile exposed a row of crooked yellow teeth.

“What is this? Extortion? You expect me to pay you to keep your big mouth shut?” Suspicion twisted his gut with foreboding.

“Not at all. I’m wise to the ways of the underworld.”

“That’s only because you’ve got your dirty fingers in practically everybody’s pie. You’re just upset that you didn’t get a piece of this one.”

Trickster nodded. “I think you’re going to give me a piece of it, a token piece.”

“Out of the goodness of my heart?” Jace wished the little rat would get to the point. He wanted to finish his business in Kali and then prepare for his last night with Kraft. Already he’d bought new sheets for his bunk, a pricy bottle of wine, and a tin of powdered honey—the bright-eyed clerk assured him brushing the substance on wasn’t nearly as fun as licking it off.

Trickster picked up an envelope and tapped it on his desk. “I think you’ll be happy to pay me for this.” Dust poofed up and danced in the fading sunlight that managed to slip through the grungy windows.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask you to unpack this, you’re gonna be waiting a long time. I’ve got no interest in playing any of your games, and there’s no way I’m going to pay you for the privilege of jerking me around.”

“I know you’d be interested in this.” Trickster tapped the envelope to his greasy head. “More a man knows about his crew, the better off he is.”

“I know my crew, Trickster. Seems to me you’re the one who didn’t realize how valuable Kraft was. You’re just looking to get a bit more script for her, that’s all. That’s also too bad because that deal is long past being done.”

Trickster nodded. “But new information has come into my possession. Information I think you’d pay handsomely for.”

Jace laughed. “About Kraft? All I have to do is ask her. She’ll tell me anything I want to know.”

“Will she?” Trickster considered for a moment. “I believe she would. Provided you asked the right questions.”

“Are we done?” Jace sighed. “Because I’ve got no intention of buying what you’re selling.”

“You have no desire to know who she really is? No curiosity about how she knew so much about an IWOG Transport station?” Trickster pushed the envelope toward him with skeletal fingers. “What’s in this envelope will explain everything, and I’ll sell it to you for a paltry 3K.”

“That’s twice what you sold Kraft for.”

“Information is far more valuable than any woman.”

Jace looked long and hard at the envelope. He knew if he bought it, it would be a betrayal of Kraft. If he didn’t, it would be a betrayal of himself. Either way, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what was inside.

“I’m so certain you’ll want this information that I’m willing to make you a deal. You give me half, then open it up. If you agree with me that it’s worth knowing, you give me the other half.”

Jace counted out fifteen hundred to Trickster’s desk and tore open the envelope. He found a single piece of paper. He read the information again and again. He counted out the rest of the money with trembling hands.

On the way back to
Mutiny
, Jace made several purchases then waited in the kitchen for Kraft to return.

Chapter Twenty-two

Plush with money, flush with the thought of spending a last night in Jace’s arms, Kraft practically ran back to
Mutiny
. The ship was unnaturally quiet, but she didn’t give it much thought as she made her way to the galley.

“Did you have a good time?” Jace sat at the kitchen table clutching a piece of paper in his fist.

Disconcerted by his mood, she evenly offered, “I got what I wanted.”

“How much did you take them for?” His voice was flat and emotionless.

“Five.”

“That’s more than enough for a new ship, a new crew, a new life. Maybe even a new name.”

Foreboding raced her heart and her mouth went dry. “Jace, what’s going on?”

“I think it best if you call me Captain Lawless.”

She stiffened at his demanding tone. “I’m not your cook anymore.”

He didn’t speak and didn’t look at her, but his anger came across crystal clear by the tension in his neck and face. A vein throbbed from his shirt collar to his jaw.

“If you want to make our last night something to remember by fighting, then tell me what we’re going to be fighting about, because I haven’t got a clue.”

Jace stood and hit the wall com. “It’s time to go.”

Below her feet,
Mutiny
powered up. “What are you doing?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Fine.” She turned away from him. “I’ll be on my way.” She didn’t know what was going on, but her instincts told her not to hang around and ask.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

In a flash, he handcuffed her hands behind her back.

“What are you doing?” She was so shocked she didn’t struggle.

Holding her wrists, Jace leaned intimately close, and whispered, “I’m taking care of some unfinished business.”

Garrett entered the kitchen and stopped dead. “You two playing some kinky game?” He lifted a brow at the cuffs. “I could come back later if you all want to be alone.”

“The games are definitely over.” Jace practically spit the words into her ear. “Tell Heller to get up here.”

With a concerned and confused frown, Garrett called Heller to the galley as
Mutiny
lifted off.

Her heart pounded all the way up to her throat, making it impossible for her to breathe. A huge fear welled up and she tried desperately to quell it. Even cuffed, she could use her abilities to escape, but quickly realized she had nowhere to go. And she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting Jace or his crew.

Heller entered, examined their tableau for a moment, and asked, “What’s up?”

“Kraft’s number.” Jace ordered Heller behind her and he held onto the chain between the cuffs.

Jace faced her and glared at her with full-blown hatred.

“Why?” Her voice quavered when she asked.

“I paid good money for you.”

“This is about money?” A faint hope glimmered. “I have over 500K, Captain Lawless, and every last bit of it is yours.”

“Where the hell did she get—”

“Shut up, Heller.” Jace met her gaze with narrow slits that completely obscured any kindness. “It’s not enough. Where else could I find a cook, a warrior and a willing whore all wrapped up in one woman?”

Her mouth and eyes went wide at the word whore. “You bastard.”

“I’m no bastard, you bitch.” Jace slapped her.

Garrett grabbed Jace’s arm. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not about to stand aside while you strike a bound woman.”

Jace strode to the table. “Before you leap to her defense, you might want to read this.” He retrieved the paper he’d been clutching and shoved it into Garrett’s hand.

When he finished reading, Garrett glared at her like he itched to slap her himself.

“What the hell is on that stupid piece of paper?” Her face throbbed from Jace’s slap, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as her heart—it was bad enough she fell in love with him, and had to leave him, but to have him despise her as well?

Jace flashed her a very nasty smile.

“This isn’t funny.” Being called a whore and then struck like a wayward child stung her deeply.

“No, it’s not, is it.” Jace literally shook with rage. “To have everything change in the blink of an eye. Difficult to get your bearings, isn’t it, Julie?”

Realization hit and almost knocked her off her feet. “Oh, God.” She closed her eyes against the tremble that raced through her body. The paper was a warrant.

“I don’t think God would lift a finger to help an IWOG assassin.” Jace was shaking with fury.

“She’s IWOG?” Heller yanked her cuffs.

“I can explain.” She searched Jace’s face, looking for one scrap of understanding, but found only disgust.

“I’m certain you can. Lying seems to be your best skill.”

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