Damage Control (Valiant Knox) (8 page)

Mia got underneath his arm and almost unbalanced him.

Concentrate, moron, or she’ll end up being the first recruit to beat your stupid ass down.

Leigh regained his footing and turned the tables on her. Just as he’d wanted, Mia started dropping. Except, instead of tripping because he’d bested her, she seemed to be tucking into the fall…and taking him with her.

He couldn’t get his footing because he’d overcommitted to the attack and propelled himself off-balance. They both hit the mat, Mia half on top of him.

Goddamn
.

She’d actually done it—managed to put him down. A head-clearing dose of shock burst through him, and before Mia could pin him and win the match, he rolled, putting her underneath him.

Her wrists were trapped against the mat beneath his hands, her breasts pressing into his chest with each uneven breath she took and her hips cradling his.

The feel of her beneath him started tearing up the steady rhythm of his pounding heart.

“I guess you won.” Mia shifted beneath him only the slightest bit, but it was enough to make his blood rush. Sucking in an uneven breath, he fortified his self-control and pushed to his feet, making sure he kept his movements efficient and calm as if it were no big deal. Every muscle in his body burning and tight, he sent Bren a nod, indicating she should move the recruits on to the next task, and then walked away from where Mia stood getting congratulated by her fellow trainees.

At the edge of the mat, Seb held out his jacket and shot him a questioning look. Leigh shook his head and brushed by his friend, not in the mood for chitchat. Unfortunately, Seb didn’t take the hint, moving from where he’d been standing with Lawler to follow him. His buddy stopped him with a tight grip on his shoulder.

“Hey, man. What gives? I know she almost beat you, but that’s nothing to get all huffy over. If you ask me, it looks like Recruit Wolfe has some real potential, despite her size.”

Leigh couldn’t help himself. He stole a glance across to where Mia listened to Bren explaining the next activity.

“Yeah. I’d say she’s got a good chance of making it to the end.”

Seb shook his shoulder before letting him go. “Then what gives, buddy? You’ve been a bigger hard-ass than usual the past few days.”

“It’s classified.”

“
Pft
.” Seb sent him an exasperated look but then seemed to realize he wasn’t joking. “Shut up. Really?”

A small trickle of guilt crept through him for lying to his friend, even if it was only a small lie, and one that was necessary. Yes, the situation with the traitor weighed on him, but a lot of his bad mood definitely came back to Mia and his inability to ignore his attraction to her.

“Things are complicated, and I wish I could tell you about it, but I can’t. So I’m going to need you to step up and have my back, even if you don’t know what that’s going to entail.”

Seb’s expression lost the amused edge he usually had. “Of course. You know you can count on me.”

“Good. Now, I’ve got to go deal with some of that classified stuff I can’t tell you about.”

Seb stepped back and inclined his head to him. “We’ll hold down the fort.”

He clasped his hands behind his back as he strode toward the hatchway. He ordered himself not to look back at Mia, repeating the command in his mind like a mantra. However as he reached the doorway, his gaze crept around, finding where she stood to the back of the crowd, listening to the lieutenant give instructions. She glanced over her shoulder and when he caught her gaze, his stupid heart bumped against the inside of his chest like he was a damned teenager.

Cursing at himself, he left the PT room, focusing his mind on the bigger issue of a possible mole in his squadron. Solving that mystery seemed easier than facing the fact that for the first time since enlisting with the UEF, his emotions might be totally compromised.

Chapter Eight

T
he dinner crowd had started trickling out of the messdeck, some headed across the way to the common room, while others headed for the transit and likely, entertainments on commerce level.

Mia scraped the last bits of food off her plate and glanced up at Kayla sitting across from her, who’d managed to finish her meal in record time.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” She set her utensils on the now-empty plate and added her cup to the pile.

Kayla shrugged as she stood. “I’m not in any hurry. Besides, there’s safety in numbers. Steve looked pretty pissed about us taking him down earlier today. Not that I’m scared of the jerk-wad rich boy, but it might be better if we stick together for the time being to make sure he doesn’t try to corner either of us.”

Nope, Steve certainly hadn’t been happy about Kayla and her beating him in hand-to-hand combat. Luckily, between classes for the remainder of the day and evening messdeck, they’d been able to avoid him. But it was hard not to notice the death glares he aimed in their direction whenever he got the chance.

Some of the other recruits had been talking about a get-together Steve and his buddies were having in charlie-two dorm. As much as the idea of winding down and getting to know the other recruits tempted her, she wouldn’t be going anywhere near Steve voluntarily. Plus, when she’d told him earlier in the day that she planned on studying tonight, she hadn’t been bluffing. They might have two weeks before that exam, but the sooner she could get those schematics memorized, the better.

She grabbed a bottle of juice and an energy bar on the way out of messdeck; she’d need it later when her overworked brain started sucking the life right out of her.

“I heard earlier today that the best place to study is in the media room,” Kayla commented as they made it out into the passageway.

“Good. It’ll probably be better than the dorms.” While she and Kayla were down the hall from charlie-two dorm in bravo-one, there would probably still be noise from the party, plus other recruits hanging out in bravo-one who wouldn’t be interested in studying.

They made a stop by the dorms to get their datapads and then headed for the media room. Inside the large space it was mostly quiet, like an old-fashioned library. There were a few people scattered around, either watching newsfeeds on low volume or with headphones, while others read or were having subdued conversations. An immediate sense of relaxation washed over her, taking away the tension she’d been walking around with since leaving Ophelei Academy a month ago to make the journey to the
Valiant Knox
.

“Now this is more like it,” she murmured as they headed for a couple of short couches arranged on either side of a low table.

Kayla shot her a grin as they each took a couch. “You are
such
a nerd.”

Yeah, she would totally own that. “Tell me about it. So explain how some computer psyche-eval assigned me to this fighter-pilot program?”

“Must have been a system failure.” Kayla’s grin widened. “Seriously though, you took down Lieutenant Brenner, so obviously you’re not lacking in the appropriate skills.”

“Only out of necessity.” She looked down, tapping her datapad to life. “I’ve always been so much smaller than everyone else, and I know I look like a sixteen-year-old. I took extra combat classes back at the academy because I wanted to make sure I could look after myself.”

“Then we have that in common, at least. Although I took extra combat classes just to make sure if people pissed me off, I could kick their asses. People like Steve.”

Mia gave a short, distracted laugh as she searched for the file she needed, but then frowned when it opened. The schematics were all jumbled, and information seemed to be missing. She spent a few moments trying to sort it out then swore under her breath.

“I think my file is corrupted. I’m going to head back up to the ready room and see if I can download it again off the master datapad.”

“No problem. I’ll be waiting here.” Kayla didn’t look up from her own datapad.

She pushed to her feet with a low sigh, tiredness catching up to her. A cynical smile tugged at her lips for a brief moment. If she was tired now, just how exhausted would she be once they started the real training? She forced the thoughts from her mind as she made her way to squadron level. There was no use worrying what kind of physical toll the program would take on her; either she’d get through it or she wouldn’t. It was as simple as that.

Except, the niggling question of what she’d do if she did wash out of the program stuck into the back of her thoughts like a burr and refused to dislodge, no matter how hard she tried to banish it. She didn’t want to end up on the ground, particularly if it meant fighting on the front lines, which was what happened to most soldiers who failed fighter-pilot training.

Since she’d arrived on the
Knox
, she’d started getting the idea that she’d be satisfied living and serving on the battleship. On the heels of that vague sense of belonging, she chastised herself, because there was every chance those mushy feelings had something to do with a certain CO she shouldn’t be thinking about in anything other than the most professional, platonic terms.

At this time of evening, squadron level was all but deserted, many of the rooms and less-used corridors powered down to auxiliary lighting. There wasn’t the constant chatter and low din of people going about their duties, only the hum and buzz of the
Knox’s
systems working in the background.

She took one wrong turn before finding the ready room they’d been in this morning, everything looking a little different in the half-light and without other crew members milling around.

As she stepped into the darkened room, she swiped her hand over the sensors, flooding the room with yellow-white light. She blinked as she moved forward, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the brightness.

A figure loomed up in front of her, and she took half a step back as surprise jolted her system.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else—” Her words cut off on an anxious half breath. Something wasn’t right. The man wasn’t wearing a UEF uniform, but dark pants and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up.

He lunged at her, and she tried to sidestep, but he clipped her shoulder, putting her off-balance and knocking her datapad out of her hand to smash on the floor. By the time she jerked out of his reach and regained her stability, he’d put himself between her and the door.

Though she couldn’t see his features with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled so far down, leaving shadows to obscure half of his face, something about his body language made it seem as if he knew her, because he hesitated.

She held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. “Look, technically neither of us are probably supposed to be up here. I’ll pretend I didn’t see you, if you return the favor.”

He didn’t say anything, but took a slow step toward her. Something in his demeanor sent cold rippling under her skin and warning alarms in her head telling her she needed to get out of here
now
.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.” Her voice came out slightly uneven as she resisted the urge to retreat. Instead, she took half a step forward, angling toward the exit.

The man lunged again, and this time she wasn’t quick enough. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from sprinting for the door. With a vise grip on her elbow, he clamped his other hand onto the back of her neck and twisted until her arm was bent at a painful angle behind her.

She clenched her jaw against crying out, her breath cutting in and out too shallow, making her dizzy.

“I-I s-swear I won’t t-tell anyone I saw you.” Her words were choppy to the point of incoherent, and her captor made no indication that he’d either understood her or cared. He swung her around and she sucked in a deeper breath to ask him what he planned on doing with her. Before she could get the words out, he loosened his grip on her arm, but used the hold on her neck to smash her face-first into the corner of a nearby desk.

Pain exploded through her head, but not enough to put her out. In that second, as everything swam and agony pulsed through her skull,
God
did she wish she had blacked out. Maybe her survival instincts kept her conscious, because she knew if she passed out, she probably wouldn’t wake up again.

Working on the instinct she’d honed through long hours of combat training, she twisted out of his grip, but lost her balance because of the way her brain was spinning from the impact with the desk. Still, she was free, and she scrambled toward the door. Glancing back, she saw the man hadn’t come after her, but had pulled a gun. She froze using a nearby chair to keep herself upright while her head throbbed.

Oh God, he wasn’t going to let her leave here alive.

L
eigh stepped out of the transit on squadron level: his last refuge. Yep, he had totally been avoiding everyone—particularly Seb—since he’d fled the PT room earlier today, telling himself that he needed to start investigating the possible mole.

He’d spent a few hours in his office reviewing each member of his squadron, until his churning thoughts and a damned traitorous mind distracting him with Mia had nearly sent him on a long spacewalk with a short oxygen supply. He’d hit the gym, but Bren had come looking for him, so he’d headed back to his apartment. Except who had he seen lurking outside his door before he’d even stepped off the transit? Seb. Sure, the guy had been doing a bad job of hiding the prohibited bottle of whiskey he was holding, but even the temptation of taking the edge off his frustrations with some smooth liquor hadn’t been able to change his mind about the conversation that would surely come with it.

So as a last resort, he’d come up to squadron level, intending to go over the notes for tomorrow’s class, even though he’d done it fifty times already and knew the planned curriculum for the day inside and out.

As he turned down the passageway to the ready room, he frowned at the wide shaft of light breaking up the shadows of the corridor under auxiliary lighting. Before he stepped through the hatchway, his gaze landed on a datapad on the floor, the screen cracked and the outer casing broken.
What the—
He reached the hatchway, finding Mia with her back to him. Annoyance washed through him, because she shouldn’t have been up here at this time of night, and he’d escaped here specifically to get away from everyone. He pulled to a stop when he saw the second figure in the room a few short steps away with a gun pointed at her chest.

A bolt of shock zapped through him. He dove forward on instinct alone, the sharp sound as the electromagnetic gun fired echoing through the room. He hit Mia and they went down, sliding into the row of desks. The shooter let off a few more rounds in their direction, and he dragged one of the desks in front of them to provide cover. A burning-chemical smell hit him as the outer side of the polymer-resin on the desks melted under the energy pulse.

But the shooter didn’t seem as interested in killing them as he did in escaping. Leigh watched, fury lighting through him as the guy ran from the room, keeping him pinned down with a few wildly aimed shots. He waited a beat, then pushed to his feet and sprinted out into the corridor after him.

There was only one place the shooter would be headed—the transit-porter. When he came around the final corner, he saw the man slipping into the transit, turning to punch at the screen controls. The shooter saw him and brought the gun up again. Leigh swore and ducked back behind the corner as energy pulses pinged into the bulkheads.

After a second, he risked a peek around the corner to see the transit doors close. Jogging up to the door, he watched the display as the transit went down a level. He hit up his comm, getting an ensign on the ship-wide emergency line.

“This is Captain Leigh Alphin reporting condition code alpha-three. Gunfire on FP squadron level—I repeat, gunfire on level foxtrot-papa. I need the transit locked down and a MP unit on standby to apprehend the shooter.”

The ensign confirmed, but even as he did, the transit had stopped and let the shooter out somewhere on port side of the level below him. He swore under his breath and put in another comm call to make sure the ensign had noted the transit stop and to get someone tracking the shooter straightaway. On a ship like this, there was no way that person would escape. Dark satisfaction rolled through him, since there was a very good chance he was about to find out who the traitor was in the FP squadron.

Now, for his other immediate problem. Mia needed to answer a few questions about what the heck she was doing up here at this time of night. He backtracked to the ready room, but when he walked in, he didn’t see her right away, and for half a second, thought she’d also somehow escaped while he’d been distracted. But then he spotted a pair of boots from behind the clutter of desks and chairs where he’d taken cover.

His heart took a free fall as he realized she hadn’t moved from when he’d tackled her to the floor.

“Mia?” Even as he shoved a desk out of the way and dropped down on his knees next to her, he saw the small puddle of blood that had formed beneath her.

His throat closed over, cutting off his breath. With an unsteady hand, he reached down and pressed his fingers into her neck. Her skin was warm, and a steady pulse registered under his fingertips. An exhale of relief burst out of his chest, releasing the rigidity that had set into his muscles when he’d thought the worst. She’d been hit in the left shoulder and had a gash above her right eyebrow.

He tapped his comm, putting him through to the same ensign he’d talked to a moment ago.

“This is Captain Alphin again. I need a medico response team to ready room one-four on squadron level, condition code bravo-orange.”

“Yes, sir, right away.” The ensign ended the comm after the clipped answer, and Leigh turned back to Mia.

The pool of blood beneath her had spread, and he swore under his breath. He sat back and pulled off the tank top he wore underneath his shirt. After quickly shrugging back into the shirt, he wadded up the tank top and pressed the material against the shoulder wound, trying to move her as little as possible in case of spinal injury.