Ricochet (20 page)

Yet the nagging emptiness wouldn’t go away. As much as he hated to even give life to the thought, he knew there was a fine line between hate and something much stronger.

I might as well be a dead man.

The town of Dreanar gave off an air of working too hard to claim every tourist dollar coming through this section of the galaxy. Stratton ignored the overt charm in favor of searching for his kind of beings—the ones that lived life at face value with no hidden agenda.

As soon as he and Willa reached the outskirts of the town, she left for the business district, presumably to see about bartering for a ship. Never once did she look back or offer an apology. He didn’t either. Instead, his pride remained intact, which was a good thing, as it would be what held him together until he got on his feet. Throwing himself into ignoring her, he chose to test his luck in the tourist area, since that was where the hostels and restaurants were located. Folks would be more inclined toward benevolence if someone offered to sweep their floors or clean their dishes.

Styled with steep, wood-shingled roofs, the cottages and buildings resembled the chalets and cozy nooks in any snowbound areas of any galaxy. No wonder Willa had thought it magical as a child. If one visited as a tourist with a loved one, nothing would be more appealing. He lifted a lip in a sneer. Over-rated…romance.

Curls of smoke wafted from chimneys while the sharp aroma of burning wood and cooking meats perfumed the air. Stratton’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since he’d consumed the quick-sustenance packs while in space. Time to turn on the charm and score a free dinner. Maybe a brainless barmaid would let him have a room with a soft bed and warm blankets. Of course, huge amounts of the town’s best liquor wouldn’t hurt either.

Anything for relief from the constant ache in his heart and head.

Snowflakes kissed his face and scalp, melting on contact. He hunched his shoulders against the precipitation and wished the slick gear contained an automatic warming mechanism. No other living being traversed the streets, as it was most likely well past the midnight hour. His toes were numb, but he kept walking. Eventually, the path took him to the end of the street and a hostel/bar with a sign-board swinging in the slight breeze. Fluffy snow obscured the name. Tired to the point of exhaustion, he reached up and brushed the accumulation away to end his curiosity.

Red-painted words and a picture sprang from a black background. Stratton gaped at the unmistakable image of a whale-like creature with a spiraled horn, much like the mythical unicorn, on its forehead. The lettering proclaimed the establishment to be the Narr Whall Inne. He turned to call Willa, tell her it was the checkpoint, then remembered there was no more Willa.

He’d lost her all over again.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he pushed open the door and sighed as the warmth from the large common room enveloped him. A fire blazed from a stone hearth on the far side of the room. A few cloaked men lounged at stout wooden tables as they nursed tankards. Heavy, dark beams crisscrossed the ceiling, decorated with flashy racing banners and sponsor logos. Of course, the Nebulon Trike brought money into the local economy.

Damned Willa.
Don’t let the woman ruin the rest of your life. She made her choice.
He nodded. Time to move on. If he did nothing else on this stupid rally, he’d bring Chaf to justice. That prize purse would go a long toward making up for the miserable moments.

As he approached a dark wooden counter at one side of the room, he yanked the datapad from its resting place inside his slick gear.
Won’t need this any longer.
His hand hovered over a trash receptacle, yet he hesitated. Better not. He might be able to sell the small computer to fund his way off the planet.

Then he saw it. At the end of the counter that doubled as a bar, a slim yellow pole wrapped with a red stripe—on top rested the marker for the third leg. He ran to the device and synced the datapad with the marker’s computer. Later, he’d analyze his actions. Right now, it was enough he did this—for their team.

Please don’t let us be last.
It would be the ultimate slap in the face after the crash landing and the break-up of their partnership.
At least I can do this much for her if she does manage to locate a new ship and continue on.

The marker beeped. New information flashed onto the datapad’s display. Second-to-last by a minute. Stratton let out a loud whoop of joy.
Still in it!
Yet…there was no
they
. There was only him, and if Willa didn’t manage to locate a racing commission official and secure a new partner, she’d be out of the race she’d worked so hard to stay in.

He set his lips into a hard line.
Not my problem. She walked away like every other person I’ve known.

Bellying up to the counter, Stratton waited until a pretty attendant acknowledged him. Her sleek, silver hair swung at her shoulders while fine glitter sparkled on her cheeks and lips. He cocked an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh. This woman needed makeup to enhance her features. Surprisingly, he much preferred a natural beauty like Willa.

Too bad she rejected me.

He ignored his conscience and instead plastered on the grin that always landed him whatever he asked for, including a warm bedmate. “Excuse me, sexy. The name’s Stratton Sinnet. I’m one of the racers on the Nebulon Trike. I think you have a room for me?” No one had to know he wasn’t competing any longer. At least this way he wouldn’t need to pay for lodging or duck out of it later.

Interest lit her violet eyes. “Oh, I’ve heard of you.” Her gaze raked the length of his body before returning to his face. “They didn’t exaggerate.” She craned her neck as she tried to look behind him. “Where’s your partner?”

“Around somewhere.” He hoped his expression didn’t betray the truth. “What room?”

She touched a few spots on a display screen embedded in the countertop. “Number two, and, Mr. Sinnet, if you should need…anything else”—the woman drew the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip—“please let me know. I’ll be alone down here in an hour.”

A week ago, he would have taken her up on her blatant offer. Tonight, all he felt was old and tired. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning away, he glided his gaze around the common room, finally locating a staircase tucked away in a corner. Suddenly, warm and alive wasn’t his type anymore—unless the woman in question was Willa.

Even if he managed to fall asleep, how would he survive waking up tomorrow when faced with this new reality?

At the door, he offered his hand for the identification scan. As soon as the door swung open, he strode into the room, beyond caring if it closed behind him. When it did, he leaned against the smooth wood and closed his eyes. How the hell had he come to this moment? Had everything he’d accomplished in his life been a mistake or wrong? Was he paying the price?

Throwing the datapad onto a quilt-covered bed, he slid to the floor. Cold seeped into his slick gear from the tiles, but he didn’t care. Right now, he was as vulnerable as a newborn baby. With no money, no weapons, no clean clothing and no ship, he had absolutely no way to continue and even less reason. Somewhere in this building, Chaf probably laughed at him, the same way every person he’d ever known had done—the relatives, his shady mentors when he’d jacked up a job, and the list went on.

If he had to do it all over again, would he have intended to switch flight paths without telling Willa? Stratton rubbed a hand over his head. Probably. His job was to catch the bounty—period. He didn’t get paid to care and hadn’t minded doing it until he’d accidentally found someone worth caring about.

A week ago, he’d been confident about every aspect of himself. Now, he had no idea how to proceed or even where to go. Without Willa, it all seemed…pointless, hollow. He’d gotten used to her belittling his lifestyle or harping about his job. And damn it all, he’d enjoyed interacting with a woman who didn’t buy his crap and actually told him so.

Yet the choice to stay had been taken from him. Too many people had come and gone from his life, and he’d had no say in any of it. Well, no more.
I’m tired of being written off as unworthy.
The next time an opportunity presented itself, he intended to take full advantage. Next time, he’d either be the one to walk away, or he’d take the dare and forge a relationship, no matter the personal cost. Nothing could hurt like he did now, but Willa was gone, and he’d been the ass who’d driven her away. For the first time, he realized he’d been the problem.

Acceptance was a bitter pill to swallow.

Drawing his knees up close to his body, he buried his head in his folded arms.

Willa’s fingers and toes tingled from the cold. Not one person she’d encountered in the town would let her borrow a ship. While they nodded and smiled when she’d explained her situation and told them she was a member of the racing federation involved in the Nebulon Trike, they drew the line at actually helping her. Annoyed, she’d demanded the use of a ship due to her Lingorian skill and family name.

No one seemed impressed. The only person who cared about Lingoria was her, and it didn’t help her on this planet. Suddenly, she possessed no standing and no reputation. Here, on this ice planet, she was only Willa.

And right now, she didn’t want anything to do with that woman.

Her eyelids drooped from exhaustion and the temperature. As her steps slowed, she stared into the navy-blue sky, contemplating the star-strewn sky above. She’d come so far only to fall even farther. Ironically, the trials she’d been through hadn’t made her a better person. If anything, she’d become a bigger bitch.

A few tears leaked from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. She kept her gaze on the twin moons sitting as mere slivers in the heavens. When she’d signed up for the Nebulon Trike, she’d had one purpose—to force her father and brothers to acknowledge her as an equal—yet from the moment Stratton had come aboard, she’d been thrown into chaos.

He’d also handed her a huge reality check, one she couldn’t ignore. She’d been bullied into seeing her life as it was, at the risk of questioning everything she’d thought she knew.

With the meeting of one man, her world had turned upside down.

Snowflakes landed on her cheeks, cooling her overheated skin. Thoughts of Stratton warmed her body, then left her cold as her hopes were once more dashed. She had no idea where he’d gone or even if he still remained on the planet. Hell, with his skills, he could have slunk anywhere in the galaxy by now. Willa stumbled and fell to her knees in the quiet street. The accumulated snow pillowed her joints but provided small relief. Because of her pride and stupidity, she’d lost everything. She’d put her faith into things that didn’t matter, and now, without them, she felt empty inside.

Finally, she understood one truth about herself. She didn’t want a man’s approval or respect. Those things were easily given and easily taken away, depending on the whim of the person. They didn’t define her worth. What she wanted now—no, needed—was the love of a good man, the one man who had enough balls to take the crap she dished out, give it back to her just as hard, yet stand beside her in support when she required it and allow her to give in when she wanted to.

That man was Stratton. But he was gone.

It was her fault.

Willa didn’t know how long she cried for herself, for the wasted years and all she’d lost. Minutes or hours, time existed only for suffering. Once she had no more tears, she stood, wiped her eyes and walked through the streets of Dreanar, exhausted but full of resolve.

She may not have finished the rally this year. It didn’t mean she couldn’t try again or even regain her standings in another race on the same circuit. What she needed now was sleep, preferably in a warm, dry bed. It wasn’t until she reached a tavern at the end of the street that she felt anything but sadness. The sign swaying in the gentle breeze proclaimed the establishment the Narr Whall Inne. A thrill of excitement shot down her spine. The checkpoint! Disappointment fell hard on its heels as she realized she didn’t have the datapad. Without that piece of equipment, she couldn’t operate the marker or even look at her placement in the rankings.

On the end of a sigh, she pushed open the door and nearly fell to her knees a second time as warmth hit her in the face. A soft thud indicated the door had closed behind her. Tired, she crossed the common room, glad there were no patrons occupying the tables this late at night. If the owner wouldn’t give her a room, she’d sleep on one of the benches—that was how low she’d sunk.

In the morning, she’d beg and plead with someone to send a message to her father, then wait for her family to pick her up, broken and a failure in their eyes. In hers, she’d only been sidetracked. Once she got back on her feet, she’d try again—for her, this time, and as a tribute to Stratton. She could almost imagine his annoyance if she named a ship after him. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile.

“Can I help you?” The bored female voice yanked Willa from her thoughts.

Sweeping her gaze over the racing federation banners and flags decorating the room, she nodded. “Is this where the Nebulon Trike teams are staying for the rest period?”

“Yes.” One of the girl’s silver eyebrows arched in question.

Willa mentally cursed herself for a loser. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry, but if there was a chance she could work the situation to her advantage, she would. “Has Stratton Sinnet checked in? I am—was—his partner.” Her stomach clenched at the finality of those words.

The girl behind the counter frowned. “He has. About an hour ago.”

“Oh.” Flutters invaded her stomach as she realized Stratton hadn’t left the planet after all, and was, even now, upstairs and alone.

“A pity you two parted ways.” The attendant adjusted the already low-cut neckline of her loose blouse. “I was about to pay him a visit, to see if he needed something else.”

Like hell she would. Willa straightened her spine, the exhaustion forgotten. “Let me tell you how this will go. You’ll give me his room number, and your ass will stay put. Got it?” When the girl pouted, Willa pulled out her HEPP, pointing it at the girl’s head. “I’m cold, I’m hungry and I have nothing else to lose. Spill it,
teriti
.” She thrust out her chin when the other woman’s eyes widened from the use of the Lingorian word for
whore
.