Ricochet (10 page)

Cold panic drenched her back, freezing her spine. This wasn’t how the race was supposed to end! Willa struggled, but the men’s fingers dug painfully into her shoulders. “Let us go. We mean you no harm.”

“No, but we might.” The filthy man grabbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought his face close to hers. Foul waves of body odor and vomit rolled off him, causing Willa to bite back a dry heave. “Now, be a good girl, and I’ll let you live. If you argue, I’ll leave you alone to die slowly, either from wounds we inflict or oxygen deprivation.” He shoved her away, and the two men dragged her from Stratton. “Search the ship. Take whatever’s valuable. The man who finds the biggest treasure gets to fuck the girl—and kill the man.”

Chapter Six

The backs of Willa’s eyelids prickled as her captors dragged her over the asteroid’s rough surface. Her boots left deep grooves in the dust, yet no matter how much she squirmed, kicked or clawed, their grips never lessened, as if they subdued beings on a regular basis. She sniffed, taking a deep breath and blowing it out, determined not to let them see her cry.

No showing weakness. Not in front of the thugs and definitely not in front of Stratton. Damn him anyway. She hated that he’d been right about the Belt’s inhabitants, despised herself for not picking up on something she should have been familiar with.

Not that it mattered at this point. The thin air worked against her, making her lungs burn as she labored to bring in oxygen. Without getting enough, she felt her strength ebb as each second ticked by.

She glanced over her shoulder, desperate for a sign that Stratton had a plan. When it appeared obvious he didn’t and wouldn’t be able to carry it out if he did, she choked back disappointment. Fine, she’d deal with this the same way she’d gotten by her whole life. It just required brain power. Still, worry for her racemate nagged at her. She glanced his way. It seemed he was in bad shape as he wheezed in the unfamiliar atmosphere and wavered on his knees. A bruise purpled one side of his jaw, and a trickle of blood marred the splendor of his smooth scalp.

His slick gear had been yanked from his torso and his hands tied behind his back with a length of rope. The gash in his shoulder—though only a flesh wound—glistened with fresh blood. The six-armed bandit stood nearby while the leader of the gang kicked Stratton in the side. When he toppled over, the thug removed the belt and the suit the rest of the way, leaving Stratton clothed only in his boots and tight-fitting jockey shorts.

Despite the danger, hot lust enveloped Willa, until her captors threw her on the ground a few feet from her fly mate. She kicked at one of them as he reached for her clothes. His partner snickered but sat heavily on her legs, rendering them useless. Struggling consumed more oxygen than she could replace and left black spots dancing across her vision. In retrospect, she should have left the helmet on. Live and learn. When she ceased her thrashing, desperate to conserve energy, the other thief ripped off her belt, yanked down the zipper to her suit and hissed with victory.

He said something to his companion in a language her universal translator couldn’t convert. They both laughed; then the bigger man wrestled Willa out of the top half of her slick gear as if she were a child’s doll. His hands raked over her breasts more times than could be considered acceptable. She slapped at his wandering fingers, even went so far as to bite his hand. It didn’t appear to faze him. To her left, Stratton growled in protest and surged to his feet. The leader of the bandits delivered a swift jab to Stratton’s rib cage, and he went down with a string of curses.

Willa cringed at the pain on his face. She fisted a hand and got off a wild punch at one of her captors. The thief sitting on her legs moved and took the slick gear off the rest of the way. She couldn’t help the shivers of revulsion that shook her as he drew calloused hands down her legs.

“Get off!” Her kick didn’t do much damage. His veil fell away to reveal a ragged scar down one side of his face. The angry welts marred his otherwise-smooth bronze skin, but more fascinating were the shallow gill-like slits on either side of his neck. That must be how his race breathed in the low-oxygen environment. “What race are you?” When he ignored her and leered, the ravaged part of his mouth twisted into a horrible mask. “You won’t get anything for the suits.” None of the men answered. “At least let us have the gravity belts. If you plan on keeping us for a slave sale, we’ll need to stay grounded.”

A couple of the thieves grumbled in quick conversation. Shortly after, the belts were hurled in her direction.

“Thanks.” She nudged Stratton with the toe of her boot once the thieves edged away to inspect the slick gear. Too bad the racing league had banned the self-destruct feature of the uniforms. It would have come in handy now. “The least you could do is stand up and be a man.”

“No, the least I can do is what I’m doing now. Lying here, marshaling my strength, trying to breathe.” He coughed, struggling into a sitting position. “But, damn, I think I’ll just keep doing it while looking at you. If I’d known what you were hiding, I’d have tried harder to get you out of your clothes.”

Bastard!
She didn’t dignify the comment with a response, yet her cheeks blazed. Too tired to do much more than send a glare in the men’s direction, Willa scrambled to her feet. She retrieved her belt and slung it around her waist. The click of the buckle rang in the stillness. They could have the damned suit. She didn’t need it, but she did need her ship back. There was no way she’d be knocked out of the Nebulon Trike on the whim of a bunch of dirty thieves. She’d take her own life before she allowed any of their dusty, grubby selves to violate her body. As an afterthought, she considered her appearance.

Stripped of her slick gear, she stood before Stratton with a defiant lift to her chin, his belt dangling from a finger. Her long hair had escaped its bindings and stirred around her shoulders in the slight breeze. The lace bra and panties she’d chosen to wear did little to hide her private parts and even now, under his scrutiny, she didn’t regret it. Donning such feminine clothes drove home the fact that she was not her father’s hoped-for fifth son. She was a woman and proud to be so, but she could also compete in a man’s world with the same ease, if not the same luck.

Training her gaze on the men retreating into the
Anomaly’s
cargo hold, she ignored the heat infusing her face. Part of her thrilled that Stratton found her attractive, while the other part protested his interest had been piqued by her nearly naked state.

All men suck, no matter what planet they’re from.

“I hope you commit this”—she ran a hand down her body—“to memory, because you’ll never see it again.” A chance meeting of his gaze and the desire blazing from those dark depths hardened her nipples until they jutted against their lace covering. “We need to get off this rock.” She refused to stand there and think about how good it might feel to have Stratton’s muscled length pressed against her, skin to skin.

“In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t a lot of options.” He wiggled his bound hands for emphasis. “I doubt they’ll change their minds, especially now you’re flaunting the goods.”

As if I can help that.
“Jerk.” She narrowed her eyes. Kneeling, she fastened the extra belt around his waist, ignoring how hard the wall of his chest was against her cheek. “I’ll find a way off, and you can stay here with your new friends. Maybe they’ll have changed their sexual orientation by then and you can have the time of your life.” She stood but had taken only a few steps forward before Stratton sprang at her.

They tumbled to the ground. Willa landed flat on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs, with his larger body pressing hers into the dust. Stars flashed into the blackness that threatened to consume her brain. The man didn’t need the use of his hands to make her feel so keyed up she might explode out of her own skin. Planting her palms against his sweaty chest, she shoved at him until he budged a few inches. Endless seconds went by as she concentrated on sucking in enough oxygen to even question him.

“What the hell are you doing?” She hissed the question in his ear, then immediately wished she hadn’t. His clean scent, mixed with man, assailed her nostrils, wooing her down a dark path to the forbidden. Another gasp only accentuated the problem. “Don’t bring them out here.”

“I’ll try not to. It’s not like they’re excited to see me again.”

“What, you cheated them too?”

“Maybe. Long story. For once in your life, shut your yap and listen.” His breath warmed her lips. “The Caringa is standing guard just out of sight near one of the wings. He’ll be tough in a fight, but he’s favoring his right side.” He glanced in the direction of the ship, then snapped his gaze back to hers. “If you and I work together, we have a chance. It’s slim, and I intend to take it. There might be technology here we can use to summon help or at the very least get the ship repaired.”

Her heart thumped wildly, from the situation or his proximity, she had no idea. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, her hands slid up his arms, and for one insane moment, she gripped his shoulders, anchoring herself to his solid form. Whatever else he’d done, he’d never ignored her. That was more than she could say for the men in her family. “Why did you knock me down?” Somehow, she doubted he’d been so overcome with passion he had to possess her where they stood.

His expression shuttered, and he assumed the blank mask she’d first glimpsed before they’d been paired at the start of the race, yet it was the fire deep in his eyes that drew her in and wouldn’t let go. “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll do my best to protect you.” His gaze darted to the Caringa crouching at the ready by the wing of the shuttle. She hoped that piece of the ship obstructed the being’s view.

“I don’t need your help.” The fact that she really did pissed her off. The one situation where being independent would make her shine, but she had to rely on
him
. The request hovered on the tip of her tongue, yet the habit of looking for her family’s attention all those years, of showing anyone who’d watch she was as good, as tough, as any man, were too deeply ingrained. She shoved at his chest again, more strongly now. He made no effort to move. “When we leave here, it’ll be because of me, got it?”

“And here come the spikes.” He arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather I said the only man who gets a peek in your pants is me for putting up with your attitude?”

“You’re the biggest ass I’ve ever met!”

“Yeah, and you’re a frigid bitch who’ll probably get frostbite from the ice in your heart. Can’t quite let a guy in, can you? If you did, you might have to trust one, and you either don’t know how or you’re out of practice, right?”

The comment cut too close, too deep, but she had no choice but to ignore him. “We’re getting out of here. Now.” With a mighty shove, she pushed Stratton off her body, immediately missing the warmth and comfort he’d provided. Mentally consigning him to the darkest reaches of the galaxy, she jumped to her feet just as three thieves exited the
Anomaly
. Three of them, not counting the Caringa, carried armfuls of loot—Stratton’s and her slick gear, the bag of jewels from the previous leg of the race, various containers of nonperishable food, as well as weapons from the cargo hold. The fourth drove the quad rover out and continued on toward a dust-covered domed structure.

Willa eyed them, sizing each one up, and lifted her chin a few notches. She set her jaw, felt Stratton stand close to her.
Now or never.
She caught the gaze of the leader. “I’d like to negotiate terms.”

The leader of the group barked a command, and the crew halted. He shoved his spoils into the hands of his right-hand man and leveled a glare at her. “There are no terms. I told you what we planned to do with you. That’s the end of it.”

“Unacceptable.” She planted her hands on her hips, ignoring Stratton’s warning growl. “I demand the right to negotiate.” Fear trickled down her spine as the yellow-skinned Caringa edged toward her, HEPPs in two of its six hands. How accurate would his aim be?

“You have no rights here.” One of the leader’s large hands rested on the dagger at his belt. His fingers closed around its jeweled hilt. “You remind me of someone I met years ago.” His straggly hair waved in the breeze. “A Lingorian pilot. The man fought like mad and took home a hot wound for his efforts. Nearly opened his backside with one strike of a crowbar, but he gave his fair share of scars too.”

Willa’s fear evaporated, replaced by blinding anger. “My father.” In her mind’s eye, she saw the long, jagged white scar traversing her father’s back. He’d always claimed he’d received the injury while working on one of his ships. He’d never let on he’d been in a skirmish with these ruffians.

“Ah, that would explain the resemblance.” He rubbed a dirty hand over his jaw. “How fortuitous I can exact my revenge on his daughter.” The thief snapped his fingers, and the Caringa nodded. “Take Sin around back and rough him up as a welcome-back gift. We’ll sell him when the slave ship passes here again. The girl now belongs to me.”

“Like hell!” Stratton roared his protest, immediately ducking his head. He ran at the Caringa, bashing the alien in its midsection. They both went down in a cloud of red dust.

Sweat formed on her upper lip, chilling her skin in the thin air. Willa stared down the leader of the thieves, her eyes narrowed, her hands clenched into fists. She should punch the smug grin right off his hated face, but what a great opportunity to avenge her father. Maybe this time he’d be forced to acknowledge her as more than simply an offspring percolator.

“Talk or fight,
bortwalla
,” she sneered, resisting the urge to giggle at her use of the Lingorian word for the parasites that fed on yak vomit. “Either way, I’m launching off this rock a free woman.”

Her adversary drew his dagger. “If you’re still alive once I’m done with you.”

Stratton choked back the bile in his throat as he fought with the Caringa. Despite his hands being bound, he’d managed to hold the alien at bay, as well as his fear of the six-armed hybrid. Maybe he’d simply gotten over it due to the danger of the moment. Didn’t matter, but it wasn’t enough. The longer he was detained by his adversary, the more danger Willa could potentially be in, although she was putting up one hell of a fight. He’d almost had a heart attack when she’d openly challenged the thief, looking like the end of the world in lace lingerie. The woman would be the death of him before long.