Beneath a Trojan Moon (2 page)

Relda managed to keep her face blank but inside her mental groan was loud and long. Of all the men she wanted here right now, this was the last one.

Medina’s new marshal was big. She guessed he was around six foot five by the way his head nearly brushed the top of the tent. His shoulders were broad, his legs were thick and muscled, his large hands cradled a laser rifle with practiced ease…everything about him was big. A sly thought twisted through her brain that he was probably big in other places, too.

His body was encased in black cargo trousers and a starched, white shirt that was covered by some sort of black vest that looked vaguely military to Relda. It had lots of pockets and affixed to the front was the shiny, silver star of the Marshal’s Office.

And his aura…well, it always made her a little breathless to see it. The beautiful shades of blue of someone who knew who he was, was centered, protective, solid. And whenever he looked at her, she saw the alluring tints of deepest red appear. Heat and desire.

Behind him, two uniformed deputies and a little girl entered. The marshal nodded at the slash in the back of the tent and the taller of the two deputies disappeared through the opening.

The child raced forward, dodging around the marshal to hover by Relda’s legs. Bindi was one of Medina’s street urchins. Lucky to be seven years old, Relda paid the girl to run messages between her tents. Relda could have used her Sync to contact her employees, but the street kids needed the money.

Relda barely managed to stop herself brushing at the blonde curls escaping Bindi’s dirty cap. Relda knew the girl didn’t like to be touched. “Thank you for getting help, Bindi. Can you sit with Alia?”

With a nod, Bindi hurried over to plonk down beside Alia.

“Ms. Dela-Cruz, seems you’ve had some trouble.” The marshal’s laser-sharp, blue gaze took in state of the tent and then hovered on Alia’s bruised face. As he slung the rifle over his shoulder, a muscle ticked in his jaw.

“You’re a master of understatement, Marshal Calder.”

His face was too rugged to be called handsome, but there a solid toughness to it that was appealing. Dark eyebrows slashed over eyes of the palest blue, like chips of ice. She knew that with once glance he’d catalogued everything in the tent and could list what was broken and all of Alia’s injuries.

He raised a brow. “You going to hit me with that?”

Relda blinked and realized she was still clutching the lamp. She dropped it and hurried over to Bindi and Alia. Gently, she put an arm around Alia’s thin shoulders.

The marshal crouched beside them. He’d recently moved to Souk to take up the role of Marshal for Medina after retiring from the Galactic Security Services. She’d heard all kinds of rumors about him, but most said he’d been some sort of Special Forces soldier.

Looking at him, she believed it. It wasn’t just his tough look, it was the way he held himself. Still, controlled, and prepared for anything. And his watchful gaze didn’t miss a thing. When he’d first started the job, he’d toured the market and met all the stall owners. She’d made him tea, which he’d taken a suspicious sip of before drinking. And for once, Relda hadn’t pulled her usual flirting routine. Marshal Calder wasn’t someone she wanted to have notice her.

She had secrets she wanted to keep hidden. And he was man who’d dig until he’d uncovered everything.

“Two men attacked Alia. I need to get her to a medbooth.”

“Relda fought them off.” Alia’s voice was a little shaky, but edged with awe. “She was amazing. Not afraid at all.”

Calder glanced at Relda for a second, his eyes glinting, before he looked back at the injured young woman. “I’m not surprised to hear that. Alia, I have a couple of quick questions, then we’ll get you to the medbooth, okay?” His tone smoothed out as he ran through his questions—what the men looked like, what they wanted, what they’d done. His no-nonsense style seemed to calm Alia. She answered in a shaky voice but thankfully her tears had dried up.

Calder went through every step of the attack, taking notes on the Sync he pulled from one of his pockets. He was very focused on what the men wanted. Relda managed to keep her face blank.

The Trojan Moon.
How could anyone have recognized it? And what was she going to do about this mess?

“Okay—” Calder tucked his Sync away “—tomorrow I need to you come to my office and work with my artist. I want images of these attackers.”

Alia nodded.

Calder looked over his shoulder at the deputy standing at attention in the doorway. “Deputy Hasan, can you please take Ms. Alia to the closest medbooth?”

Relda stirred. “I can take her—”

“I have some more questions for you, Ms. Dela-Cruz.”

His tone had hardened and his gaze said he wanted to talk to her alone. Resigned, Relda straightened her shoulders and nodded.

The young deputy hurried forward. “Of course.”

Relda flowed into the act she’d perfected over the years. She shot the boy a slumberous smile and grabbed his hand. “Now, you’ll take care of my girl, won’t you, Deputy Hasan?”

His face flushed and he stammered. “Yes, ma’am.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I knew you would. Thank you.”

Alia hesitated for a moment, but something about the fresh-faced deputy must have soothed her because she accepted his hand. With one last look at Relda, Alia let Deputy Hasan lead her from the tent.

Relda sank back onto the cushions, trying to stay relaxed. She knew she needed all her wits about her to deal with Marshal Calder.

He arched a brow. “No flirtatious smile for me?”

She tucked a curl back behind her ear. “Something tells me it would be wasted on you.” He wasn’t the kind of man to flush and stammer because of a woman’s smile.

The corners of his mouth lifted for the briefest moment. “You might be surprised.”

That small, unexpected smile transformed his tough face. Relda felt a flush of heat on her skin.
Oh, no
. She was
not
attracted to this man. No way.

His features sharpened on her for a second before they turned serious again. “Are you hurt anywhere I can’t see?”

A traitorous image of him peeling off her clothes and examining every inch of her skin made the heat intensify. “No.”

He nodded. “Okay, then I have a question for you. What is the Trojan Moon?”

Chapter Two

Relda Dela-Cruz was one of the most striking women Hunt Calder had ever seen.

A mass of brown curls cascaded over her slim shoulders and begged a man to tangle his hands in it. Her face shouldn’t have been beautiful—the line of her jaw was too strong, the blade of her nose too sharp. But combined with almond-shaped eyes of a deep nebula green and copper-brown skin, she was stunning.

Her lips were painted a vivid red designed to give a man fantasies. And her body…that gave him plenty of fantasies as well.

She covered it in flouncy skirts and that damned sash of coins that jangled whenever she moved. But the body was all generous curves and temptation, designed to bring a man’s cock to attention.

His certainly was whenever he was within a few meters of her.

“I have no idea what the Trojan Moon is,” she murmured, meeting his gaze head on.

She was tempting but she was also a liar.

She was damned good at it. If he wasn’t watching her so intently he might have missed the lie. But during his years in the Galactic Special Forces, he’d interrogated more people than he liked to remember. Added to that he was Predian and his race had exceptional hearing, smell, sight and reflexes.

He was an expert at spotting lies. And in Relda, he detected the trip in her pulse. And it was at odds with the rest of her. Her hands didn’t fidget, but stroked the edge of a fat, jewel-blue cushion beside her, calm and easy. She didn’t sweat or look uncomfortable, she was perfectly composed.

Too composed.

“So, you don’t know what this Trojan Moon is?”

She spread her slim, ring-covered hands wide. “The only trojan moon I know is up there.” She pointed upward. “The captured asteroid called Khan sits in one of Souk’s Lagrangian points of stability and co-orbits with the larger moon, Hilal. That makes it a trojan satellite. It’s also home to the Phoenix brothers.”

She sounded like a damned schoolteacher. And she was still lying. “Yes, I know about
that
trojan moon.” And the infamous treasure-hunting brothers who called it home. “But I don’t think that moon is what these men are after.” Hunt leaned closer. “It’s my job to protect the people of Medina and that includes you and your girls, Ms. Dela-Cruz. Help me out here. You don’t have any sort of artifacts that could be considered a moon?”

She shrugged. “I have several orbs in my tents, for decoration.”

He eyed the silver-pink ball on a small table nearby. Somehow it had escaped destruction. “You don’t use them to…tell fortunes?”

Relda tilted her head, her green eyes narrowing. “You don’t believe people have the ability to see the future, Marshal?”

“I’ve researched you.” He saw a brief flare of something in her eyes before she hid it.
Curious
. What did the lovely Ms. Dela-Cruz not want him to find in her past? “You take in disadvantaged girls who’d otherwise have to turn to pleasure working on the streets. You give them a place to stay in your home near the market. And you give them jobs working in your stalls. I don’t think they can tell the future any more than I can. You train them to give people exactly what your clients want, and you do it in a very lovely, staged setting.”

She shifted on the cushions. “I know my brand.”

“Yes. You do.” He’d noticed she never flirted with him. Around any other male—young or old—she was mysterious smiles, tilted head and fluttering eyelashes. At first, it had bugged him, because he had a powerful desire to strip her naked and wrap her long legs around his hips.

But then he’d realized what it really meant, because whenever he was with her, his acute sense of smell had picked up the faintest, most tantalizing hint of her arousal.

He found her fascinating. She pulled on so many different guises—fortune teller, businesswoman, flirtatious woman, savior of disadvantaged girls. He hadn’t worked out which was the real Relda, but he suspected he hadn’t seen her yet. His gut told him she didn’t show the
real
Relda to anyone.

He was also interested in the fact that when he’d run his searches on her, he’d found no reference of a Relda Dela-Cruz before she’d turned up on Souk four years ago.

Yeah, she was a sexy mystery he wanted to uncover.

But first, he had to keep her alive.

“I’m going to run searches on the Trojan Moon. You sure there’s not anything you want to tell me before I do that?”

She lifted her chin. “I’m sure.”

So, she thought he’d come up empty.
Okay, beautiful, let’s see.

She stood with the elegant grace of a dancer. “Marshal, I really need to check on Alia and my other stores. I don’t want any more of my employees hurt.”

Hunt stood as well and took a step closer to her. He noted the way she stiffened. Most people would guess that she didn’t like him, but his senses picked up her racing pulse, the subtle change in her scent.

He gripped her chin, tilted her face up. “You need to be careful. Do you have a weapon?”

She raised her eyebrows.

Not a legal one, then. “Don’t tell me,” he growled. “Just keep it close and keep an eye out. I’m going to post a deputy to stay with you here at your store and to guard your house. You see anything that worries you, and I mean anything, tell him or call me.”

She blinked and he got the impression she wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her. “Of course, Marshal.”

And there was that cool, composed tone she saved just for him. He suppressed a smile and stroked a thumb across the smooth skin of her jaw, watched something flicker in her eyes. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Her mouth opened. Those luscious red lips taunting him.

She leaned into him a little. With her vivid personality, she seemed taller but the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her full breasts pressed against his chest and he cursed the vest he always wore.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “Relda—”

The door flap opened again and Dale Westin, the deputy Hunt had sent out after the intruders, returned. Westin looked at Hunt touching Relda, his eyes widening.

Hunt cursed under his breath. He reluctantly let his hands drop and stepped back. Relda looked over his shoulder.

“Sir, no sign of the men. And I’m sorry, but there’s been an altercation at the spaceport. A starfreighter crew is brawling with the crew of some luxury starcruiser that just landed in port. The Port Master is asking for you.”

Hunt sighed. Sometimes he missed his Special Forces days. Who knew that wars and commando missions were easier to handle than the day-to-day problems on a market planet?

He shot Relda a look. “Ms. Dela-Cruz, remember what I told you.”

She nodded, all cool and calm again. “Yes, thank you, Marshal. I should get this mess tidied up.”

“Not until my forensics team do a sweep.”

She heaved a sigh. “Fine.”

She wouldn’t call him. But damned if he was going to leave her to a big, juicy target for whoever was looking for her and this mysterious Trojan Moon.

He’d have one of his deputies watch her here at the stall. But at night…

At night, he’d keep a special eye on her himself.

***

Relda straightened the cushions in her tent, preparing for her last appointment of the day. Looking at it, no one would know there’d been a fight the evening before that had torn the place up. Or that Marshal Calder’s forensics team had worked into the night running their high-tech scanners over every inch of it.

They hadn’t found anything helpful. Some skin cells from an aquatic who clearly didn’t have a record.

This morning she’d had the tent cleaned, the slash in the wall repaired, and she’d brought in more decorative items from her house.

With a sigh, she stopped to touch a hand to her aching temple. Despite getting Alia healed and settled last night, and despite taking a long bubble bath, Relda hadn’t slept well. When she had drifted off, it was to nightmares of faceless men chasing her demanding the Trojan Moon. But the end of each dream morphed into something different—finding herself in Marshal Hunt Calder’s strong arms.