Thieves In Paradise (9 page)

It may have looked like floating junk, but its engines roared with surprising potency and power. “He's damn fast. Must have added a few enhancements to the ship since the last time I rode with him."

Kol refused to acknowledge the slight pang of jealousy at her words. She claimed the trader from Gossamer was not a friend, yet her eyes lit when she spoke of his prowess in the air. Apparently overcome with excitement, she bounced on the balls of her feet and waved her hands in the air.

The trader ship dipped its nose in their direction, a greeting of sorts, and its landing thrusters flared, stirring the lake water beneath it to white-capped waves. Before the ship could descend any farther, though, another dark silhouette careened across the sky.

The second ship roared through the atmosphere like a missile, its course straight and unyielding. Kol recognized it instantly.

The Valencians had arrived early as well. Their shuttle, the very one he'd seen in his vision, sported dual laser turrets on the front. Both barrels aimed at the trader's ship, following its halting path to the ground.

"Get back.” Kol pulled Charity under cover of the trees into the late afternoon shadows, and together they watched blue arcs of energy slice into the trader's hull.

Beside him she gasped when the smaller ship lurched to port, one of its engines belching black smoke into the darkening sky. The Valencians apparently weren't satisfied to merely wound their target. The shuttle nosed up and executed a wide turn over the lake, and when it had lined up the trader in its sights again, fired a volley of half a dozen shots.

The trader's ship exploded. Burning sections of hull flew off in all directions, but the bulk of the vehicle landed in the lake, sending up a sizzling spray and causing ripples that lapped at the lakeshore.

Charity stared, wide eyed at the destruction. Once the twisted wreckage settled into the clear water, nothing moved.

The Valencian ship circled once, then flew off in the direction of Kol's shuttle. They'd still be looking for the locator beacon and when they didn't find him there waiting to be rescued, they'd begin a systematic search.

Charity stepped away from him, brandishing her stunner. “We've got to run."

Kol stopped her, closing his hand around her wrist. She pulled and twisted, but he held her fast. “No. We have no other option. We can't survive the coming storm. We have to get off world now."

Her eyes blazed. “And how do you propose we do that? They're going to kill me, remember? And by the looks of what they just did to that shuttle, they probably won't think twice about killing you, too."

"I have a plan. But we have to hurry."

"What's your plan? How can it be better than running for our lives?"

"My plan is to meet the Valencians at the landing site, just as they expect us to. Now move; we don't have much time."

Charity's trust in Kol wavered only once, when he snapped the laser cuffs around her wrists and tethered her once again to his belt with the kevlex rope. He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

She nodded, unsure of the strength of her voice. He may have given her his name, but deep down, she still feared him. She'd been tricked before into believing someone cared for her. He could so easily turn her over to Gremin and forget about everything they'd shared on Lebron.

"Let's go. We have to move fast."

She followed him silently, concentrating on keeping pace. Overhead, in anticipation of the next storm, the leaves had begun to roll up and with each step, the forest became brighter with the light of the setting sun. The Valencians would see them coming long before they reached Kol's shuttle.

"They're going to kill us. You can't trust them,” she said finally, her voice wavering. “They had no reason to destroy that trader ship. They didn't know he was coming for me."

"They may have suspected, but that's not important now. Just keep moving and say nothing when we approach them."

That didn't seem wise. Charity's reputation for speaking her mind had gotten her into trouble all over the galaxy, and it was no secret on Valencia. The guards would expect her to speak, loud and long on the injustice of her situation. If she didn't, they'd definitely suspect a trap.

Rather than argue the point with Kol, though, she kept moving. The act of merely putting one foot steadily in front of the other was challenge enough at this point.
Goddess bless me, help me pull this off!

Kol's vision took shape before his eyes as they approached the Valencian landing site. The shuttle sat next to the wreckage of his own, just as he'd pictured it, and two men milled around the open hatch.

They greeted him, then pointed their rifles at Charity when she approached. He raised his hands to show them he held no weapons ready.

"A'Kosu?” one of the men addressed him. “Bounty hunter?"

"Who else would I be?” Kol laughed. “And you are?"

"Sargeant Vax, Colonial Guard of Valencia. This is Forthe, my pilot.” The other man nodded, though his attention was on Charity. Rather than keeping her head down as Kol had instructed her, she was staring at the pilot.

Kol tugged on the kevlex to remind her of her place. In response she cast him a scathing look. “So, boys, you've come to rescue me from this barbarian? It's about time. We watched you blast that trader ship out of the sky in what—just
eight
shots? I've never seen a sloppier massacre in my life. Where did you idiots learn to shoot?"

Just as in his vision, the pilot slapped her for her insolence. The sound of it seemed to echo in the clearing and halted the sergeant's friendlier conversation mid-sentence.

Rather than protest or even move to protect her from a second blow, Kol drew his stunner and fired. The pilot went down first and Charity rolled out of the way so his limp body wouldn't fall on her. The sergeant managed a single shot from his weapon before Kol turned on him and put him down as well.

"Aw, fuck!” Charity lay on the ground at Kol's feet, still tethered and bound, her body curled in a tight ball. Blood seeped through her shirt. “He got me."

Galvanized by the sight of her blood, Kol ripped the tether from his belt and bent to free her hands. She collapsed backward, sucking air through clenched teeth and guarding her injury. “It's a graze, it's just a graze, just a graze. I'm ok-kay.” She choked the words out, writhing while Kol pulled her shirt away from the wound.

The shot had opened a furrow of flesh above her right hip. Warm blood spilled over his fingers when he clamped them against her body to staunch the flow. True, the projectile from the guard's weapon hadn't lodged in her flesh, but it was more than a graze.

"Why did you bait him?” Kol roared as he lifted Charity in his arms and carried her into the Valencians shuttle. “You were supposed to stay quiet."

"When you get to know me a little better, you'll understand that's imposs—impossible for me.” She winced between words and groaned when he placed her on one of the ship's flight chairs.

Kol made no comment. He frowned at her wound. The blood soaking through the torn edges of her shirt was bright red, and in contrast her skin had taken on a pale grayish cast. “Lie still. I'll look for their medical equipment."

"There's no time for that.” She pushed his hands away from her abdomen and struggled to sit upright. “They're going to wake up angry. We have to lift off now. Just toss me their first aid kit and I'll see what I can do while you get us off the ground."

Kol held her gaze. She was right. If the Valencians woke, they would not ask any more questions. He flung himself across the deck and fumbled through the shuttle's storage compartments until he found the one marked with the universal medical symbol. The collapsible bin inside weighed little, but was tightly packed with supplies. Hopefully they would be enough to treat her wound.

He handed her the bin, which she accepted with a forced smile. “I'm fine. It barely hurts. Go."

He obeyed and in moments the Valencian shuttle lifted above the green canopy of the forest and shot into the coppery evening sky. Kol felt no remorse for the men he'd left behind. With their com beacons and the emergency rations they carried in their body packs, they'd survive well enough until their own rescuers arrived, and if they were very lucky, they might even escape the erotic effects of Lebron's next pollen fall.

Once the shuttle broke orbit and Kol managed to set a course for Antares, he returned to the passenger compartment. He'd heard little complaint from Charity and he expected to find her resting comfortably.

Something in his chest clenched when he saw one pale hand lying limp at her side. A bloody cloth and several torn packets of bandages lay on the deck as if they'd dropped from her fingers.

Apparently she'd attempted to blot the wound and passed out.

Though shallow, her breathing was steady and her pulse was strong. Kol refused to allow himself to worry that she might not survive. Overall he knew little about his prisoner, this woman with whom he'd foolishly shared so much of himself, but he did know she was strong and capable.

Charity Foster would survive, if for no better reason that to vex her enemies.

Kol treated her wound with antiseptic and bound it tightly, then settled her on the flight couch. She didn't wake, but her eyes fluttered and she mumbled a few faint words that sounded like an entreaty to her creator.

She invoked her Goddess often and, despite Kol's long-ingrained Antarean beliefs, he decided no divine offense would be taken if he did the same on her behalf.

"Goddess, bless her and keep her safe from any who would harm her,” he said, casting his gaze upward. “Even me."

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Woozy and wobbly from her long, fitful sleep aboard the Valencian shuttle, Charity gladly turned herself over to the waiting hands of a trio of Antarean doctors when they arrived at the compound that housed the A'Kosu tribe.

The two men and one woman looked surprisingly similar to Kol, muscular and broad shouldered with beguiling light blue eyes and dark hair.

"Are you all related?” she asked when strong arms lifted the portable carrier into which she'd been placed.

"We are all A'Kosu,” the woman said. “And you are very weak. Please lie still and rest."

A jumble of fuzzy images flashed across her field of vision then—a brilliant star-filled sky dominated by the blue veil of the Antare nebula, streaks of red light from whirling emergency beacons, and finally a brief glimpse of Kol's worried face as he bid her safe journey to the nearby medical facility.

Charity attempted to lift a hand to wave to him, but the effort sent a wave of fatigue through her body beyond anything she'd felt before. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the unfamiliar voices lull her back into blessed darkness.

Kol watched his brothers and sisters of A'Kosu carry Charity away. Deep in the pit of his stomach, an ache began, more an annoyance than a true pain at this point. He dismissed it as the aftereffects of drinking untreated water on a foreign planet, or perhaps eating a spoiled protein bar.

He ignored the discomfort and turned to offer a deep bow of respect to the white-haired man who had waited patiently for the medics to tend their charge.

"Kol'A'Kosu, welcome home, Son of Rand'A'Kosu. I'm grateful to see you are not the one in need of medical attention."

Kol straightened his spine and met his elder's searching gaze. “Barok'Kosu, I'm pleased to see you well also. I'd heard you had taken ill a fortnight past."

The old man dismissed his concern with a wave, but a rueful smiled tugged at the deep wrinkles around his mouth. “I suffered from a foolishness of spirit. At two hundred and forty summers, I should know better than to follow fire-wren through the upper mountain passes at high sun."

Kol bowed his head and smiled. “You seem to be no worse for your adventures."

"Perhaps not, but you ... haven't fared as well. Why have you brought an injured human home with you?"

"To protect her. I believe she faces an unjust punishment."

Barok only stared. The old man had an uncanny ability to draw information from others without saying a word. In his youth, Kol had often felt compelled by nothing more than a question in Barok's eyes to confess his errors of judgment. Today was no exception.

"She was my prisoner. I helped her escape the Valencians after a vision showed them torturing her. I could not abide it."

"And so you had a vision that did not come to pass?"

"Part of it did."

Barok turned away. He clasped his hands behind his back and headed with sure, steady steps toward the path that would lead them to the A'Kosu Great House where the Elder Council would meet. Kol followed at a respectful distance.

"You seem uncomfortable, Kol'A'Kosu. Are you ill?"

"No, Barok. I ... imagine a few days of proper food will clear my system. We've been stranded on Lebron for several days."

"And the Valencians kindly leant you their ship?” Accusation tempered the amusement in Barok's voice, but his inquiries would be the least harsh of all the Elders, his judgments the most fair.

Kol steeled himself for the shame of his admission. “The ship is stolen from the guards who injured Charity."

Barok's stride faltered at the use of the human female's name. “To save a life is noble. To endanger others in the process is questionable. I look forward to hearing a full account of your ordeal."

Kol grunted his ascent and the knot of pain in his gut tightened a bit. He would not need a vision to show him the outcome of his meeting with the Elders. They would not be pleased.

The Antarean sun rose quickly, hurtling over the rocky horizon and sliding through brilliant clouds in shades of violet, mauve, dove gray, and bright orange. The scent of hot food wafted through the air vents in Charity's room, reminding her how long it had been since she'd eaten food that didn't come sealed in crylon.