Quantum (23 page)

Mae arched against him with a breathless noise, and then she was working on his pants again, freeing him from the constraints of his cargos. She wrapped a firm hand around the base of his erection, and he nearly bucked them both right off the cot. Mae laughed, grabbing onto his shoulder with her free hand.

“Yeah, you’re laughing now,” he grated out as she stroked him slow and steady. “But just you wait until I get my revenge.”

She abruptly let him go and pushed off his lap, leaving him dazed.

“Go ahead and give it your best shot, Graydon.” She unfastened her pants, one catch at a time, then pushed both her cargos and underwear down her trim legs, leaving her in all the mind-numbing glory of nakedness.

He swallowed hard as his gaze traveled down her body and back up again. Yeah, he’d seen her naked before, but the curves she had going on still had the power to knock him sideways.

Before he could quite get his brain back to any kind of functioning level, she stepped forward and pushed both hands against his shoulders. He reclined, half rotating to put his legs up and lie back in the narrow bunk. Hell, he was still wearing his goddamn boots, his pants shoved down around his hips.
Classy, Zander.
But before he could do anything about getting the rest of his gear off, Mae climbed on top of him.

Right, priorities.
Did he really care about his boots when he had a damn sexy naked woman sitting on top of him?
Hell no.

Zander reached up for her, even as she came down toward him. Though desperation burned through his limbs like acid, when their lips touched the kiss was almost gentle, and reverent—not some heedless, meaningless plunge into reckless passion like they’d experienced before. Their mouths moved with measured intensity, winding him up in a way he had no reference for. The kiss slowed, and Mae took a breath, her gaze meeting his as she shifted against him.

His heart pounded like a drum heralding a cavalcade. As her heated, wet core came up against him, air caught in his lungs. Even as Mae tilted her hips, he pushed upward, joining them with a white-hot surge of mind-numbing pleasure.

Mae took up the pace, because right then, he couldn’t do much more than lie there as soul-searing emotion flooded him—along with a jagged wash of ecstasy—cleansing him with each new wave of rapture.

He wanted to tell her how gorgeous she was, how much he needed her, how she could have him; he would give himself to her however she wanted. But he had no words, because nothing made any sense except for the shattering thought that he’d gone and let himself slip, let her get under his skin, and hadn’t even realized it.

The heart-stopping realization, combined with the rising burn of pleasure through his body, meant there was no hope for him. Like the inevitability of their shuttle crashing to ground, he couldn’t stop the wave cresting within him. But then maybe it didn’t matter, because Mae arched in his arms, moaning his name as her inner muscles contracted subtly around him.

Zander let himself go, a harsh groan ripped from his chest as he exploded deep inside her, a feeling of utter rightness spreading through him. Mae dropped against his chest, her breath puffing in warm swirls over his skin. He wrapped his arms around her, contentment washing over him.

The woman had totally ruined him. Saying their relationship would be complicated was like saying lava was warm. How had he started caring so deeply for her despite knowing little about her, apart from the fact she was a kick-ass operator who could handle herself and probably had enough secrets to fill the cargo hold of this ship?

Yep, Graydon, that is a level of idiotic you’ve never aspired to.
And he was right back to this whole thing being too damned complicated.

He sighed, long and low, and Mae raised her head to look at him. “I thought we weren’t going to think about any of that again tonight.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking about?” He reached up to smooth a strand of dark hair from the side of her face.

“From the way you’re frowning and the way your shoulders tensed up.” She traced a light finger along his jaw. “Whatever it is must be important.”

Zander forced a smile that he just didn’t feel. “Yeah, actually, it kind of is.”

Mae slipped onto her side next to him, laying her head on his shoulder and draping her arm across his middle. “Well, whatever it is, leave it until tomorrow. And if you want, once we’ve had a few hours’ sleep, I’ll help you work it out.”

“I really hope you can.” He pressed his lips against her forehead as she settled against him with a contented sigh. The only way she could help him figure it out was if she told him everything.

But a fear had taken root deep within him, slowly creeping out and choking everything in its path like a noxious gas, the burning trepidation that he wouldn’t like what she’d been keeping from him. That with her revelations, she would become a totally different person.

And then he’d be faced with the truth that he’d never really known her in the first place.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sarolta, four days later

Mae watched as Forster’s crew used a hover pallet to maneuver the crate they’d stolen from the
Isis Delta
shuttle not quite a week ago. Less than an hour after they’d landed, a ragged-looking group of Sarolta’s officials had approached the
Ebony Winter
. At first, she’d assumed the men wearing worn IPC uniforms were there to question Forster. Maybe even attempt to arrest him, since his ship and name were plastered all over the known worlds along with the temptation of an undisclosed credit reward tagged on.

Except Forster hadn’t batted an eyelid when Lucie had announced the visitors, and the way Sarolta’s IPC representatives had greeted the captain—with all the enthusiasm of a returning hero—meant Mae definitely didn’t have the full picture of what was going on here.

Footsteps off to her left broke her focus from Sarolta’s leaders profusely thanking Forster, and Lucie stopped beside her.

“So when Forster said he had someone waiting here on Sarolta for whatever you guys stole off the
Isis Delta
shuttle, I never imagined it would be—”

“The planet’s official leaders?” Lucie finished for her. “If I tell you the full story, don’t let Qae know. He tends to be very private about his business dealings, especially the transactions where he doesn’t necessarily take credits for payment.”

Intrigued, Mae looked directly at Lucie. “If he’s not being paid in credits, what does he get out of this? Brazenly stealing that crate from the
Isis Delta
shuttle just adds one more felony to his already long list of crimes.”

Lucie nodded, her expression troubled. “I know, and believe me, we’re all aware of the risks we take. But Qae has a way of convincing you that risking your neck for the greater good is worth the possible consequences.”

The congratulatory part of the men’s conversation had moved on to backslapping. Yeah, Forster could be one charming son of a bitch, especially if he could fool people who should have been arresting him.

“How much do you know about Sarolta?”

The sudden change in the direction of conversation threw Mae, but nonetheless, she thought over the few bits she’d heard. There were hundreds of planets under IPC jurisdiction, a handful still holding out independence since the Assimilation Wars. Apart from the few planets she’d traveled to in her life, it was impossible to know about every single known or populated world.

“It’s a poor mining planet, straddling the line of solvency by selling its resources to the IPC.”

Lucie nodded. “Sarolta subscribes to IPC rule and government, but the planet has remained mostly independent, like a lot of the poorer outer worlds have. The IPC has a monopoly on buying Sarolta’s resources and pays them a pittance. A piece of critical equipment running Sarolta’s most profitable aluminum mine needed to be replaced. Sarolta’s government applied to acquire the equipment through a rental or loan arrangement, but the IPC refused on grounds of Sarolta’s questionable solvency. On the surface it all seems legit—Sarolta isn’t exactly flush with spare funds—but they could have paid for the equipment over time.”

The IPC wasn’t perfect—what government was? But she hated the thought that an entire planet of people were getting screwed for the gain of an already wealthy institution.

Lucie glanced over at Forster as the
Ebony Winter
’s captain walked with Sarolta’s leaders down the ship’s ramp while the hover pallet moved the crate out of sight.

“So after denying Sarolta the equipment, the IPC warned that if they couldn’t afford the next round of quarterly governmental taxes, the IPC would step in and take control of Sarolta’s assets,” Lucie continued.

And there was the punch line. Mae shook her head, disappointment rising within her even though she’d guessed how the story would end.

“Without the main mine working, Sarolta won’t be able to afford the next quarter’s taxes, and the IPC could simply take over.” The totality of the situation left a sour sensation in her stomach.

Lucie nodded, her expression grim.

“And the crate you stole from the
Isis Delta
shuttle contains that critical piece of mining equipment, which Forster is not going to take credits for,” Mae concluded.

“He’ll agree to some kind of trade so that the men can save face, but it’ll probably be something like a free berth and anonymity whenever we come by this region of space, or discounted goods.”

“I see,” she murmured. And she really was starting to see—something she really hadn’t expected. “So there is actually a point to this madness. He’s not just some adrenaline-junkie badass space pirate.”

“For the record—” Forster’s voice sounded just above her ear, and she spun with a short gasp. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to sneak up on her.

“I hate being called a space pirate,” he finished, a wicked grin turning up the corners of his mouth. No doubt he’d enjoyed startling her.

She leveled an unimpressed glare on him. “And why not? It’s an accurate description of your choice of career.”

“An accurate description?” he repeated, making a face. “‘Space pirate’ is the most ridiculous-sounding thing I’ve ever heard. No self-respecting man could wear that title. I’ll stick with illegal salvager or handsome scoundrel, whichever you prefer.”

“Space pirate it is, then.” She shot him her own insolent grin as he frowned at her.

“You are a trying woman, Mae Petros.”

“I’ve been telling her that for years.”

Mae glanced past Forster at the familiar drawl to see Rian topping the ramp and crossing the cargo bay toward them, followed by Zahli, who practically ran over to greet Qae with a hug and affectionate exclamation.

“Rian!” A hard swell of relief pounded through Mae, and she brushed by Forster and Zahli to hurry toward her old friend. Though she usually wasn’t one for being overemotional, after the trouble she’d faced simply trying to get to Rian, she could have quite happily thrown herself into his arms. Except Rian hated to be touched, so she forced firm control over the unusual impulse.

As he stopped in front of her, Rian offered a short grin and opened his arms to her. She puffed out a short sigh, partly of relief and partly of surprise, then stepped into his embrace.

“You had me worried for a while there, Petros.” Rian’s embrace was a little on the stiff side, his words gruff. Although anyone who didn’t know him would have missed it, she caught a sense of the raw emotion bubbling under the surface of his usual detached cynicism.

“We had a few close calls, and if it hadn’t been for everything you’ve told me over the years, Zander and I definitely wouldn’t have made it this far.” She squeezed him tighter for a quick second then moved back.

Rian sent her a reproachful look. “You’re a survivor, Mae. You always have been. I’m sure you would have been fine. Isn’t that right, Graydon?”

Zander had come up behind her, casting a speculative glance between Rian and her. He’d still been sleeping when they’d landed around an hour ago, and she’d decided not to wake him before sneaking down for a bit of snooping. Though Zander seemed happy to see Rian, she’d gotten to know him well enough that she could see a shadow of tension in his easy expression.

Okay, so she and Rian had history, and she didn’t just go around hugging anyone. But Zander didn’t need to pull any of that macho-jealous-possessive crap like he had when they’d boarded the
Ebony Winter
. Considering the weird pseudo–domestic bliss they’d fallen into over the last few days, did he really think she could be interested in anyone else?

“I’ve never met anyone quite like her, that’s for sure,” Zander murmured, sending her an unreadable look. He clasped forearms with Rian, and the two men stepped in for a quick man hug complete with backslapping then parted.

“And I am frecking glad to see you’re alive, Zander.” Rian shook his head slightly. “I assumed the worst when I realized the guy currently sitting at the helm of the
Swift Brion
wasn’t you.”

Zander’s expression darkened. “About that. I hope you can help me take that bastard out and get my goddamn ship back.”

“By the saints’ silkies, Graydon, all that in good time.” Forster moved in and clapped Zander on the shoulder. “First, we’re going to have a nice long discussion where Rian here tells me everything he knows about the Reidar, so next time one decides to sneak into my crew, I know what to do with the scum bastard.”

…

Though it was early by standard ship time, Rian accepted the beer Qae offered him while Zander declined, instead going over to the galley bench to make a couple of coffees.

Rian glanced around the small communal room of the
Ebony Winter
, packed with Qae’s three crew, most of the
Imojenna
’s crew, and lastly Zander and Mae, who sat beside him on one of the half dozen or so stools along the bulkhead. His cousin’s smaller Sylph class ship made the
Imojenna
look like a luxury cruise liner. Sharing the larger ship with his sister, her fiancé, an Arynian priestess, and the other four crew members made him feel like a sardine a lot of days, so he didn’t know how Qae could stand flying about on a ship so small. Yep, he totally would have gone postal and vented himself and everyone else around him by now if he’d been stuck on a tin can this size.

Truthfully, he’d been glad to get off the
Imojenna
when the
Ebony Winter
had landed on Sarolta the day after their own arrival. Trekking out, as dangerous as it always was, gave him a break from certain passengers and their penchant for Jasmynah tea, which permeated every frecking corner of his previously girly-scent-free ship.

Rian knocked the top off his beer and glanced at Mae, who watched Zander approach with a cup of coffee in each hand. Oh, and like he hadn’t noticed how schmoozy the two of them seemed. It made him want to puke his biscuits, but if two of his oldest friends had found happiness and comfort in each other, then he wouldn’t begrudge them.

“So, you’ve got a story to tell me,” he announced before taking a long swallow of the cold beer. “Tell me everything, right from the start.”

The two of them shared a quick glance, then Mae launched into the story. The rest of the room’s occupants fell quiet as she got into the recount, with Zander throwing in an extra detail or two here and there. By the time they were finished, everyone was staring at them with varying degrees of awe and respect. He’d known Mae had skills, and maybe luck had played into parts of the equation, but
damn
, they’d done well to stay a step ahead of the Reidar this whole time. And the final move—slipping from the
Isis Delta
shuttle onto the
Ebony Winter
—had been a stroke of genius.

“Now that we’ve told you about all that, it brings us around to this.” Zander set his empty coffee mug aside and produced a handgun.

Rian accepted the weapon from Zander and cast a critical look over the piece. The gun almost looked like a pulse pistol, but it was a little heavier, a little more solid in his grasp. Still, as he held it up, he found it had a nice even weight, and the grip molded well against his palm, putting the trigger at a natural angle to his finger. Whoever had designed the weapon knew what they were doing.

“What is it?”

“It was supposed to be a painless type of stun gun.” One of Qae’s crew spoke up, the tall, lanky guy with an unruly mop of hair falling into his intelligent dark eyes. “But finding an electrical pulse that interrupts or shuts down the body’s system without hurting is near to impossible. The way it’s calibrated now, it won’t hurt anyone—well, any human.”

“What do you mean, any
human
?” Rian traced a finger over the sleek design, a slight stirring of anticipation eddying low through his guts. Had they actually stumbled onto a weapon that could take those resilient bastards down in a single shot?

“This is the part where things get a little hazy,” Mae put in. “For a few moments, it kind of stopped the Reidar in its tracks, and when he came at us again, whatever ability it used to shape-shift had stopped working. We saw its true face.”

“And let me tell you”—Qae stood, slamming his empty beer bottle down on the counter and grabbing a full one—“that was some freaky shite. I mean, holy mother of crap balls, if I ever see one of them up close and personal again, it’ll be too soon. I shot the hell out of that thing at close range, and I still almost emptied my chamber before it went down and stayed there.”

Rian clenched his fist around his own nearly empty beer as images rose unbidden—the Reidar scientists leaning over him while he was naked and strapped down to the hard metal table, not bothering to hide their true faces while they sliced and poked and prodded. Acid burned the back of his throat, and he shook his head, shoving the jagged pictures back into the far reaches of his mind where he never ventured if he could help it.

“Yeah, unfortunately we discovered the hard way that the slimy bastards are frecking resilient.” Rian’s voice came out rough, so he cleared his throat and took a cleansing mouthful of beer. If only it was Violaine. He’d have to see if he could source a bottle or two while they were grounded on this piss-poor planet.

“So we’re not really sure if it’s some weird fluke, but we’re hoping that the frequency of the electromagnetic wave disrupts the Reidar’s ability to hold a false form.” Mae gestured to Qae’s crew. “We tested the weapon on everyone else, and if it works the way we hope, it didn’t reveal any other impostors.”

“But you don’t know for sure.” Rian rolled the empty beer bottle between his palms, letting the story sink in and the possible ramifications spin through his mind. “So what we need is to find another Reidar to test it on.”

Zander crossed his arms, a scowl settling onto his features. “Obviously. But how are we supposed to do that?”

Rian sighed, then stood and paced across the small galley. He set the bottle down on the counter with a slow movement and turned to face the room full of people looking at him with varying degrees of expectation. “I really hope I’m wrong, but I might have some ideas.”