hands, Terror stripped out of his bloody clothes behind
her. There was no way to ignore his lean, muscled form,
especially in just his boxer-briefs. He was attractive, of
course, but she wasn’t the least bit interested. Where
Vicious had all the bulk of his massive frame, Terror
sported the leaner, meaner look. Now she knew why.
“I take it your mission didn’t go as planned.” She
waited for Terror to climb into the bathtub and stretch out.
She was glad it was designed for taller people.
“On the contrary, it went beautifully.”
“Really?” Hallie placed a towel on the floor and laid
out the supplies she would need. “Call me crazy, but
there’s a dead guy wrapped in a blanket in your hotel
room. That doesn’t sound beautiful to me.”
“That wasn’t related to the mission.”
Hallie’s hands stilled. “I killed an innocent man?”
“Hell no!” Terror shook his head. “That man is a cold-
blooded killer, Hallie. He’s an old enemy of mine. He and
I have been playing cat and mouse for years now.”
“He got the drop on you tonight.”
Terror’s lips settled into a grim line. “Yes, he did.”
“And got snuffed out by a farm girl from the most
backward planet in the Alliance,” she muttered, pulling on
a pair of gloves. A terrifying thought flashed through her
mind. “You know, if he’d killed you, he could have killed
me.”
“I’m sure that was his plan.” Terror watched her
intently. “I think he wanted to strike at us. Kill me
and
the
general’s woman?” He shook his head. “It would have
provoked one hell of a response.”
“Yes, well, he failed. No innocent people will die
because of us.”
“No.” He gestured to the supplies. “Do you know what
you’re doing?”
She nodded. “I had some midwifery training so I
learned to suture. One of the doctors from Safe Harbor
who provided us with medical supplies trained us to
render basic first aid.”
“You were heavily involved in the Red Feather
movement.” He hissed as she rinsed the wound to get a
better look. It was a clean cut and wouldn’t be too difficult
to suture, she hoped.
“You know I was.”
“You were very young to become involved with that
kind of underground work.”
“I was quick and quiet.” She opened the deadening
injection that came with the kit. “This is going to sting.”
“It’s fine.” He winced as she jabbed the needle into his
gaping flesh. “You worked in smuggling at first, yes?”
“Yes. I had the stamina and the speed to carry small
packages like medicine from the drops to the village or
other rendezvous points. They were long runs, sometimes
four and five miles in the dark and through the woods.
Later, I moved to escorting women and children and even
some men out of the village. That was slower, more
dangerous work.”
“But you didn’t let it stop you.” He gave a little nod.
“It’s dead. I can’t feel anything from my hip to my knee.”
“Good. And no, I didn’t let it stop me. Every time I
agreed to take an assignment, I imagined that it might have
been my mother trying to get us to a better place. It made it
worth the risk.” She opened a suturing kit and readied the
needle and thread. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“Better you than me,” he reasoned. “Unless you’re
squeamish?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just not sure it will be
very straight when I’m done.”
Terror laughed and pointed to his face. “I’m sure you’ll
do better than Vee.”
Surprise shook her. “Vicious sutured your face?”
He nodded. “You don’t want to know how. Suffice to
say medical supplies were in short supply in that prison.”
He shrugged. “We made do.”
“I’ll try to make it look nice.” She mentally recalled all
the finer points of suturing she’d been taught before taking
that first stab into his skin. Terror didn’t move or grunt as
she sewed him back together. “You know, Vicious is
going to be furious if he finds out about this.”
“About you looking at me half-naked or the dead man in
my hotel room?”
Hallie gawked at him. “You’re crazy. The dead man,
obviously.”
“I don’t know,” Terror replied. “Vicious is pretty
touchy when it comes to you.”
“That’s because he loves me.”
“Yes, he does.” Terror didn’t sound thrilled to admit it.
“Why does that bother you?” She finished the last few
stitches. “You act like him loving me is a bad thing.”
“It makes him weak.”
Hallie paused and peered at Terror. He wasn’t joking.
He truly believed that. Sadly, she said, “You just don’t get
it, Terror. Maybe you never will.”
“What’s there to get? Loving a woman makes you weak.
Look at Vicious. The man has become soft.”
“Vicious? Soft?” She scoffed in his face and applied the
antibiotic gel. “You obviously don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
“Really?” Terror baited her. “Last week, I found him
counseling one of his soldiers. Before he met you, this was
a man Vicious would have given a swift kick in the ass
and ordered him right to the front lines for some
toughening up, but not anymore. No, now he wants to hold
their damn hands—and that’s your doing.”
“So? What’s so wrong with showing some kindness and
patience?”
“Vicious is running a battle group, Hallie, not a nursery!
And it’s not just the way he treats the men,” Terror added.
“It’s the way he interacts with his officers. Do you have
any idea how many invitations for private parties in the
officers’ club he’s turned down in the last few weeks?”
“I don’t, but his reasons for declining are none of your
business.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, “but I know my friend. I
know that he used to love those parties. There was nothing
he enjoyed more than engaging one of the paid
submissives for a night of debauchery.”
Jealousy bit Hallie, the sting of imagining Vicious with
another woman so painful she flinched. “He has a wife
now. Things are different.”
“Clearly,” Terror said meanly. “The old Vee, the man
who was my best friend, would never have let you lead
him around by his dick the way you do.”
Hallie’s stomach dropped. Was he right? Had Vicious
changed totally just for her? Was he miserable denying
that side of himself? She clamped her teeth together as
pain overwhelmed her. Why would Terror say something
like that to her? She thought he was nice but maybe he was
just a miserable, mean bastard. Rising to her feet, she
snapped, “I think you can finish this.”
“Hallie, wait.”
“Go fuck yourself, Terror.”
It felt so good to use the crude language she’d heard the
soldiers aboard the
Valiant
use. No wonder they preferred
the spicier language. Sometimes a good “fuck-you” was
the only thing that worked.
Her gaze lingered on the dead man rolled up against the
wall. The horror of her part in this mess punched her in the
face. Oh god. She’d killed a man. He might have been a
homicidal maniac but that didn’t change the facts. She’d
committed murder.
Hallie rushed out of Terror’s room and into her own.
She slammed the door closed behind her and slumped
against the wall. Her legs gave way and she slid to the
floor. She squeezed her hands together in her lap and tried
to fight the painful sob that tore from her throat. Guilt
engulfed her.
Terror knocked once and then shoved the door open.
Still in his boxer-briefs but sporting a clean bandage on
his thigh, he stepped inside the room and spotted her on
the floor. He stared at her for a long while before exhaling
roughly. He slid down next to her, keeping his injured leg
straight, and stared at the opposite wall. “I’m sorry,” he
said finally.
“I don’t believe you.” She gritted her teeth.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I want Vicious.” Her desire to see her husband
threatened to break her. “I need him.”
“I know you do.” Terror took her hand and curled it
inside his own. “He’s not here. You’ll have to make do
with me.”
“You’re not good enough.” She let a little cattiness slip
through, hoping to wound him as much as he’d hurt her
with his words.
He laughed, the sound rough and pained. Apparently,
she’d hit her mark. “I’m quite aware.”
She cried softly next to Terror. Hot tears spilled down
her cheeks and dripped onto Vicious’ shirt. The guilt
would never leave her. She’d carry this man’s death on
her shoulders until the day she died. How in the world
could she face Vicious and lie to him day after day?
She glanced down and saw the blood stains on his shirt.
“What are we going to do?”
Terror sighed. “I’ll get rid of the body and the bloody
clothes before sunrise. You’ll clean my room while I’m
gone. There are solutions in my bag created specifically to
destroy blood evidence. Then you’ll shower and go to
bed. In the morning, we wake up and pretend this never
happened.”
She turned to look at him. Sniffling and snotty, she
asked, “Just like that?”
He nodded, his face so stoic. “Just like that.”
“How many times have you done this?”
“Too many.” He shot her an encouraging look. “It’s
always hardest the first time.”
“I don’t want to ever do this again.”
“Then we should probably stop going on vacation
together.”
Hallie couldn’t help it. She laughed. She sounded a bit
hysterical, she was sure, but it felt good to release the fear
and panic and pain. With her head pressed against the
wall, she stared at the ceiling and chuckled. She wiped at
her face and tried to get a hold on her wild emotions. “I’m
okay now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then I should go. I need to make some arrangements.
When you’re done cleaning my room, lock your doors,
Hallie. If I’m not back by breakfast, call Vicious and tell
him you need an immediate extraction with full support.
Do you understand?”
She committed his instructions to memory. “I do.”
“Good girl.” He rose and helped her stand. He gestured
to her belly. “I need the shirt.”
Though loathe to give it up, she stepped inside the
bathroom and peeled out of it. She slipped into the robe
hanging on the back of the door and handed the ruined shirt
to Terror. She didn’t let go when he tugged. “Please be
careful.”
“I will be.”
“You said that earlier.”
“I’ll be even more careful this time.” He eyed her for a
long moment. “Get dressed. I’ll leave the cleaning
solutions on my bed for you.” His gaze dropped to her
feet. “And put on some shoes, Hallie. There’s glass
everywhere.”
Nodding, she let go of the shirt and watched him leave.
She pulled on some dark shorts and a tank top and slipped
into her shoes. When she entered Terror’s room, he’d
hefted his burden onto his shoulders. He glanced at his
watch. “Hold still. We’re about to lose power.”
She stopped moving. “Why are we losing power?”
“So I can get this body out of my room unnoticed.”
The lights blinked and went out. The hotel seemed
unnaturally quiet. A quick, soft rap sounded at the door.
Her stomach clenched.
“It’s my fixer. Remember what I told you,” Terror
hissed. “Now get down and hide until I’m gone.”
She dropped to her knees and hid herself against the
bed, putting the piece of furniture between her body and
the front door. She heard the hinges squeal as the door
opened and then Terror was gone. She waited for a few
minutes, just to be safe.
When she finally stood, the power popped back on and
the room was illuminated. She took a long hard look at the
destruction. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to clean up
after the scene of a scuffle. She’d always been the one to
clean up the broken chairs and shattered plates when her
father lost his temper.
Hallie worked quickly and quietly. She made sure every
last piece of glass was picked up and wore the extra set of
medical gloves to clean the bloody splotches from the
floor and bathroom. How in the hell Terror planned to
explain the broken balcony door was beyond her.
Finally finished, she disposed of the dirty cloths and