Cantor glanced at their table as he passed and his gaze sought the girl’s for a brief moment. Not a look was spared for Martha. Her heart fell, but her hungry gaze continued to cling to him as he walked to the front of the room. He was everything golden and good in her life; she wasn’t ready yet to let go of the dream.
When he faced the group, he raised his hand for their attention. “I’d like a moment of your time. Something’s happened you need to know about. I don’t want rumors starting that make this into a bigger problem than it is.
“Over the past few weeks, we’ve lost three sheep after nightfall. Last night, I set a guard on all the herds. The sheep were attacked by a large predator and another was taken.”
“Where was the guard?” one of the men seated near Cantor asked.
“Travis attempted to repel the attack, but was unsuccessful.” The room erupted in a rumble of whispers. “He wasn’t injured,” he assured them, “but we still have a problem we can’t name. I’ve assembled a hunting party and we’re going into the interior to try to find this animal. While we’re gone, I’m instituting security measures to ensure the safety of the women.”
The rumble became a roar, and Martha felt the first stirring of unease.
Cantor raised both hands. “Let me finish. We think the creature is a nocturnal hunter. So the women are to remain indoors at night. If the men venture out, they’ll be armed. These measures are temporary, and I don’t want you reading too much into them. I simply want everyone to use good sense and remain cautious until we’ve investigated. Do you have questions?”
“How long will you be gone?” The question came from the back of the room.
“Perhaps as much as a week.”
“Did Travis say what sort of an animal attacked?”
“We aren’t sure, but the creature flies and it’s large enough to carry a sheep.”
Martha immediately understood why he didn’t want the women about at night. Then she realized what else he’d said. He’d be gone a week—long enough to steel himself against the girl’s allure and to forget about Martha altogether.
“Who is accompanying you?” the man at the front asked.
“The three of us, Ivan, and six volunteers.”
Kirsten raised her hand. “When will you leave?”
“As soon as we’re packed.”
Martha stared at Kirsten. The woman’s eyes were narrowed in concentration. She had something in mind.
Darak stepped close to Cantor and whispered something into his ear.
“We have preparations to complete. While I’m gone, Doc’s in charge.” With that, Cantor left the room without a sideways glance.
Kirsten leaned over the table. “Martha, our men are leaving. What do you want to do about it?”
Martha stared at her. “You heard him—nothing! Besides, what can we do? He wants all the women to remain in safety.”
“Did you see how he looked at the girl?”
Martha nodded slowly.
“He won’t forget
her
while he’s gone.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“They’re looking for volunteers, aren’t they?”
“Cantor won’t take women. He’ll want fellow pirates along with him.”
Kirsten rose from the table, stretching to her full, ominous height. “What’s the harm in asking—first?”
“But we don’t know the first thing about hunting.”
The tall woman raised her eyebrows. “You were a thief; I was a gangbanger. I’d say we’re plenty tough and smart. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
“And when they refuse us?”
Kirsten grinned. “We follow.”
“I think I would’ve been better off wearing my sandals than these ill-fitting boots,” Kirsten said over her shoulder, as she slogged down the rough-cut trail through the forest.
“Stop complaining,” Martha said, tugging at the waist of the breeches she’d nicked from Ivan’s wardrobe. For the hundredth time, she wished she’d thought to steal a belt along with the rest of his clothing; the trousers fit snugly at the hips, but bagged around her middle. “There aren’t many men with spare boots to fit your big feet.”
Kirsten halted and turned to her, a scowl darkening her face. “My feet are in proportion with my body. They get me where I need to go.” The scowl cleared and Kirsten looked into the canopy of leaves above them. “Do you think we’re still on the right trail?”
Martha snorted. “Do you really think any animal on this planet cuts trails with laser-swords?” She changed the bag she carried from one shoulder to the other. She’d packed light, but her bag seemed to grow heavier as they walked.
“How come we haven’t caught sight of them, yet?” Kirsten, who’d been so eager to start this adventure, had kept up a steady stream of complaints for the last hour.
She was wearing on every last one of Martha’s nerves. “Because you keep wasting our time on bitching.”
“I’m hungry. Do you have any more of the bread Pingat stole from the galley?”
“Yes, but you aren’t having it.”
“Why not? I’m hungry.”
“You’ll be hungrier in the morning when there’s nothing left to eat. Besides, you could stand to go hungry for a few days,” Martha said nastily. “Now, pick up your feet.”
Kirsten headed back down the trail. “Do you really think we won’t catch up before dark? I don’t like the thought of bedding down by ourselves.”
Martha didn’t want to face that possibility yet herself. She was a city-girl, born and raised in the Dallas-Austin metropolis. She’d rather walk down mean-streets at midnight than spend a night alone in the woods. “We have the electro-stuns I stole from the armory. We’ll be fine.”
Kirsten stopped again. “But what if one of those giant bats comes after us? Will it be enough?”
Martha shoved her onward. “Keep walking! I’m sure they’re not bats. You heard what Trina said. She had her ear to the door the entire time Doc was in there with Travis and Nicky. Besides, whatever they are, they’re too big to fly through this thicket. You’ll be fine—you’re considerably larger than a sheep.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“If the shoe doesn’t fit…”
“Do you think we did the right thing?” Kirsten asked in a small voice.
“Probably not, but I’m not going back with my tail between my legs. Not after everyone pitched in to help us sneak out of the dorm. Of course, they wouldn’t have put a guard on our doors, if
someone
hadn’t cried discrimination and threatened to mount a female hunting party after Cantor and Darak refused to take us.”
“You know I was right,” Kirsten said, her expression mulish. “How dare they decide we couldn’t come, just because we’re females?”
“That’s not what Cantor said, and you know it.”
“It’s what he meant.”
“What he
said
was he needed a well-trained team, skilled in close combat, to accompany the expedition. Honey, that’s not us.”
“We’ve plenty of skills!”
“Sure, I can pick any lock made this side of Omega Centauri, and you can flatten them with a single thigh.”
“I never realized you were so weight intolerant. You’re not exactly svelte yourself. Your ass is so large—”
“Did you hear that?” Martha halted in the center of the trail.
“What?”
“Shhh.” She pointed down the trail they’d just traveled. She’d heard something—like the crackle of a footstep, just beyond the curve of the trail.
Kirsten’s eyes widened and she flipped the safety off her gun with shaking hands.
Why’d she get Kirsten a gun? Lord, she was more likely to shoot her own foot than anything in this forest. Martha pointed to a pair of large bushes on the side of the trail and indicated that Kirsten should take up position behind them.
Kirsten gave her a blank stare, then quickly nodded her head and pushed between the bushes. She made so much noise while she was doing it, Martha decided to use her as the bait for whatever followed them. She stepped off the path and made her way back parallel to it, her progress stymied by vines that snagged her feet. When she crossed the trail again, she found no trace of a creature, man or beast.
“It’s clear, Kirsten,” she yelled. When Kirsten didn’t respond, Martha’s heart started to thud loudly in her ears. With her gun cocked and ready to fire, she ran to where she’d left the other woman, but when she rounded the curve, it wasn’t Kirsten she found.
Cantor stood in the middle of the path, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression dark as a thundercloud. He was so tall and solid he made her feel extremely small and vulnerable—and safe. Her heart ached just looking at him.
Although relieved beyond words to see him, she knew the fat was in the fire, now. Deciding a little bluster might save the tatters of her pride, she walked the rest of the way toward him, her chin held high. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Cantor’s eyes narrowed and Martha felt the first tingle of unease creep up her spine. As much as she wished she could fling her arms around his neck and hug him, her intuition told her to stay out of arm’s reach. He held out his hand, “Give me the gun.”
Martha considered resisting, but his expression was growing meaner by the minute. She slapped it in his palm. “Have you seen Kirsten?” she asked, ashamed of her cowardice when her voice trembled.
“Akron is seeing to Kirsten, now,” Cantor said, his words curt. He bent to the pack lying at his feet and shoved the gun into a pocket.
“She should like that,” Martha muttered under her breath. To him, she said, “Where are the rest of the men?”
He straightened, his face hard as granite. “They’re giving us some privacy.”
“Privacy for what?” By the look of him, it wasn’t the same thing that came immediately to her mind.
“I gave you and Kirsten specific orders, but you chose to disobey.”
“Oh, you think this has something to do with your little hunting party?” She tried to laugh, but nearly strangled on it. His stern expression didn’t change, so she tried a different tack—anything to distract him. “How did you know we were behind you, anyway?”
“We could hear your bitching for miles!”
Martha bristled and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his stance. “You know, I think there’s something to what Kirsten said earlier. You really are a Neanderthal—minus the unibrow! If a man complained about the fit of his boot, you wouldn’t call it bitching.”
He took a step closer and leaned down. This close, his scowl and the red blotches on his cheeks made him look all the more formidable. “If wanting to keep my women safe makes me a Neanderthal, then—”
Martha’s heart lurched. Did he realize what he just said? “My women?”
“What?”
“You said, ‘my women’.”
“I meant it in the communal sense of the word. As your governor—”
“Sure.” She couldn’t help the silly grin that stretched her lips.
“And stop smiling.” His expression grew blacker. “How am I to punish you if you keep smiling at me?”
That wiped the grin away. Anger puffed her chest out. “You’re going to punish me? Is that what Akron’s doing right now to Kirsten?”
“He’s likely taking a strip off her wide ass as we speak.”
“Because she’s his woman?”
Cantor bit back an oath, and his lips thinned.
“So tell me, are you mad because I disobeyed you?” Martha asked, dropping her voice to a husky whisper as she leaned into his chest. “Or are you mad because you were concerned about me—my safety?”
“What’s the bloody difference?”
Martha backed away. She figured she’d pushed him far enough. He was getting so angry the tips of his ears were red.
“Stand still.”
“Why would I do that? You planning to take a strip off my hide, too?”
“Damn right,” he said reaching for the belt at his waist.
The crotch of Martha’s breeches immediately dampened. This was a game she never thought she’d play out with the stiff and proper Governor. She lifted her chin in direct challenge. “Do you think I’ll stand for that? I’m not yours to command.”