Authors: Pauline Baird Jones
His gaze hooded. “Then we have no reason not to take back what is ours.”
Doc slid her legs free, letting them hang off the edge of the bed, the shift in her center of gravity, not visible to the human eye. “That’s not exactly true. I can think of two reasons for you to rethink your strategy.”
One of the guards moaned. Hel didn’t take his gaze off her as he fired on one, then the other. Their bodies jerked as the blast hit them. Something about them bothered her, her frown deepening as she connected the dots.
“You waste your sympathy on them.” His tone was politely scornful. “Their function was to persuade me to surrender my command codes when I awoke.”
“Are they Dusan?” If one needed someone tortured, the Dusan were the go-to guys for that.
“A few of them survived the battle.”
If they were wired like the others had been, they could expect company soon.
“Does the Council know who your cousin’s friends are?”
He checked the ray gun settings and shot her a look. “You should have killed them.”
“I wasn’t sure it was an operational necessity. And my presence is sort of diplomatic.”
“Diplomatic?” His open skepticism didn’t bother her. His inability to truly
see
her did.
She had to stop reacting to him, she realized. This mission, this moment needed the Chameleon; it needed the Major’s creature. Somehow she had to find her way back to the person she’d been before she met him. It was just another role, another persona to put on. She could do this.
“The General wishes to form a new alliance for our mutual benefit and survival.”
Hel stared at her for several long moments, and then he threw his head back and laughed.
It was a first for Doc. He done many things in her presence, but laughing wasn’t one of them. She almost forgot to be Chameleon as warmth and charm softened the arrogant lines of his face. No surprise he had a lovely laugh, a beautiful sounding laugh. He did everything well—except getting a clue.
But the Chameleon could get past that.
When he sobered, he wasn’t Hel. He was his people’s Leader, a man of power bringing it to bear on her. He leaned in, his voice soft but lethal. “We do not need anything from your expedition but your departure from our galaxy.”
Doc shrugged on black ops and bumped it up with Chameleon on top of her game, let it settle in place while she had a short stare down with this Leader.
“I can see why you’d think that.”
A flare of pupils was his response to her changed mien, but she knew he was on full alert. He had her ray guns, so he thought he had the upper hand.
“Since your systems are unable to detect the sixteen alien vessels that have invaded this galaxy of course you’d think you’re still the dominant force in the galaxy. Only you aren’t. The alien vessels can kick you and your fleet’s collective asses with half their weapons tied behind their backs.”
Several thoughts flashed through his eyes. Doc didn’t need to see them to know what they were. He feared they’d unlocked the tech on Kikk. He suspected a trick, a trap, a ruse to stave off their attack on the expedition ships. And he was worried she might be telling the truth.
Doc offered him an olive branch, though a small one. “We managed to upgrade the scanning capability of the available technology.”
Relief was fleeting, distrust not so much.
“The alien ships are from a dwarf galaxy about 300 million light years away, specifically from a planet called Keltinar. Based on their current deployment, we believe they plan to wait until we’ve had our battle, hoping your numbers will be depleted—which they would be—making their ultimate victory that more certain.”
“Your ships could withdraw.”
No indication whether he believed her in the flat calm of his voice.
“That was the plan. General Halliwell isn’t in love with the idea of saving your ass again.” It was provocative, but he deserved it. “But the leader of these ships infiltrated the
Doolittle
, disguised as a simple galactic trader, and tagged some of our people. General Halliwell’s concerned that if we try to leave, these ships will breach our shields and take our people. As you know, we don’t leave our people behind.” Did he know this? Or was that a last timeline thing?
“People?”
“Women. He managed to tag six women before we were able to limit his access.”
His stare was long, his thought process unclear.
“He tagged
you
.”
“Yes.” He’d given her the perfect lead-in for his next surprise.
“This is why your General sent you here? Did he hope I could be manipulated by a woman?”
It was Doc’s turn to laugh. “You think I came here to ask you to rescue
me
? Not bloody likely.”
Okay, it was good he didn’t know he’d rescued her once already.
“And excuse me, but aren’t you the one currently locked in a room on your own flagship? And wasn’t I the one who breached
your
security, opened
your
locked door and took out
your
guards?”
Not her brightest diplomatic moment, but still satisfying. He looked disconcerted, and then he surprised her by grinning.
“But thanks to you, that is a temporary situation.” His face shifted to something that hovered between Leader and Kalian. “Why did General Halliwell send
you
?”
Doc tensed. She couldn’t help it. Moment of truth time did that to her. She’d never jumped into anything slow—in this timeline—so she yanked her sleeve back and held up her arm.
“Look familiar?”
He took the hit with a slight widening of his eyes and a little loss of color.
“You’ve been unconscious for five of what we call space days.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Impressive. He was like the male version of her. No wonder the General didn’t like her.
“So have I. Our return to consciousness was triggered by our coming back into closer proximity to each other.”
“How is this possible?” His voice was hoarse and not in a happy way.
Had she expected him to grab her and plant one on her? Maybe. Hoped anyway. She was pathetic.
“It’s a long story. And while we’re sitting here chatting, your cousin is preparing to attack the expedition. If he fires on the
Doolittle
, there will be no alliance. The General will assume I’ve failed in my mission. Which will start another war for your people, though this one will be shorter, since you’re seriously outgunned by Conan.”
“Why should I trust you, trust this information?”
Doc waved her arm at him. “Hello. If you die, so do I.”
“You are a woman. That is worse than no help.”
She might have to kick his ass. But would that kick hers? Just how close was their connection? Maybe a little demo was in order. On her internal HUD, her peeps flagged three bogeys closing on their position. She mentally initiated Plan A—she’d never needed Plan B but always had one—and worked out her timing.
When the bogeys were five seconds from the door, she shifted her gaze over his shoulder.
He half-turned, realized it was trick and stopped the move, his hand tightening on the trigger.
One second of displaced focus, but that’s all she needed.
Bright light tracked toward where she’d been.
She hit him midsection.
They went down and Doc made sure he was on the bottom this time. And that she got her weapons back.
She flicked both to “kill” settings and rolled to the side as the door slid open.
Three shots. Three kills.
Nice of them to fall back so her peeps could shut the door.
Hel was still staring at the door when she put the knife to his throat.
“Still think I’m better than no help?”
No surprise his voice was a bit constricted. “I may have been hasty in my judgment.” A pause. “If you kill me, you will die as well.”
She knew that. She was just making a point. Doc lifted the knife off his throat, spun it easily between her fingers and sheathed it.
He looked at her, really looked at her. He didn’t see the woman he’d unleashed yet, but he saw her as a person and not just an annoying female. It was progress of a sort.
His hand ran down her back and came to rest on her butt. Heat flared in his blue eyes. “Have we mated?”
It was either kick his ass or jump his bones. Doc jumped to her feet instead. Called it Plan C.
He followed her up in a move as graceful and fast as her own.
“What are you called?”
She looked away to hide another flash of pain. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t his fault. That damn law of unintended consequences.
“Doc. People call me Doc.” She needed to be content with what she had. The peeps kept
them
at bay, kept her mind clear and orderly unless they decided to leave, too. She almost laughed at herself. She was the toughest, bad-ass coward she knew.
“And what do
I
call you?” He stepped close, his body heat against her back, his breath against the side of her neck. Was this a real move, real interest, or something else? She wanted real, but he didn’t trust her and she couldn’t trust him. Not now, maybe not ever again. It didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter. She owed him. He’d saved her life. She’d find a way to save him, to save the
Doolittle
and then she’d find a way to free him from their so-called marriage. She owed him that, too.
“A pain in the ass?” How ironic. In the other timeline, Hel had known her name and she’d kept it from Conan. Now Conan knew more of her name than Hel.
Somewhere Fate was laughing its ass off.
Hel fought against the uncomfortable sensation that somehow he had disappointed this woman. Why should he care? She was his
ma’rasile
by accident, not by choice
.
It shocked him how freely she shared her weapons with him, that she turned her back on him with no evidence of unease. If he ended her life, he would die as well, this was true, but he would keep his eyes on
her.
Trust did not come easily to him and trusting a woman? As this one had said, not bloody likely.
She adjusted the straps that secured her weapons, and he realized he was not suffering by having to watch her. There was strength in her, an innate grace that pleased, and she wore danger as easily as she wore her military uniform.
He liked danger. He loved women. As Kalian, he would not be her reluctant mate, but as Leader? She would not fit their ways, any more than the Key would have. In many ways she recalled the Key to his mind. Both were cool and confident, but with some deep sorrow in their core that he sensed, rather than saw. She hid everything that mattered to her. She was not just dangerous, but she was, Hel suspected, one who attracted danger. Or was it that she sought it out? It was not a good quality in a mate.
He wished to take her to bed, not to take his bridge with her at his back.
A memory, more felt than seen, tried to break free of restraint in his mind, but couldn’t. Was she part of what he sensed he’d forgotten? How could she have any part in his life when they’d never met, when they’d had no chance to meet? She was his
ma’rasile.
This still astonished him. Despite what he felt, this was a truth he could not escape. He’d felt his strength return, felt the itching ease around the mark about the time she’d come onboard his ship. In this she did not lie. Somehow, some way, a permanent bond had been forged between them
.
A long story.
He wished to hear this story, but first he would take back his ship.
“What is the cost of your
help
in taking back my ship?”
“We work together to defeat Conan and his boys, to protect your people and mine.”
“My fleet helps your two ships in exchange for what?”
“Access to the outpost?”
Her diplomatic skills were poor. Or she knew this would never be acceptable to him.
“Control of the outpost.” He would settle for no less than their due.
She shrugged. “The General likes the idea of joint access.”
Since Halliwell did not like anything, he doubted this.
“We will allow you the access given us the past two of your years.” He let his disdain show. “And now I suppose you will withdraw your assistance.”
The look in her eyes was impossible to decipher.
“You suppose wrong.”
“Because you are my
ma’rasile
?”
“No.” Her tone invited him to drop the discussion. She started to turn away from him.
He grabbed her arm, forced her to look at him. “Why would you help me except to save your own life?”
Her chin lifted. “That’s my business.”
“If I am to trust you, you will make it mine.”
Her lips tightened and he thought she would refuse him.
“I owe you one, okay?”
He frowned. “I do not understand.”
“I pay my debts.”
“What debt could you owe me?”
“It’s part of that long story. If we survive, maybe I’ll tell you.”
Her tone said, probably not.
“And if we try and die?”
She shrugged. “Everyone dies.” An odd look altered her face. “Living is the hard part.”
In his head he heard a voice pleading with someone to live, to fight. His voice? Even as he thought this, the voice faded into that closed place in his mind.
“Is there a plan?” He must clear his head, his thoughts, and focus on the task at hand.
Her sudden grin hit him like a blow.
“I always have a plan.”
That was not what he’d meant. He’d assumed General Halliwell was at the helm of this move, but this woman would be hard to steer. There were clues her mind was unusually agile. Curiosity and his attraction to danger had gotten him into trouble more times than he could, or would count, but he was unable to cure the addiction to both. Still, he was a man. Men did not ask. He arched his brows. It was an acceptable compromise.
“You’re such a guy.”
But she did not look displeased. He thought she bit back another grin. Perhaps it was just as well she held it back. The sight of it made him feel strange and unsettled. If he were to wrest control from his cousin, he needed to be settled. He did not know what to expect from her, but what she did was not something he could expect.