Space Wrangler (28 page)

Unless of course he had forfeited that right when he blithely walked away from her after a night of unforgettable sex.

“Are you ready, Captain?”

“Yeah, open the shield.” He watched as the barrier between him and the Titan lifted. Then with a deep breath, he raised his laser pistol and fired at the faint seam in the gray-blue leg.

Despite everything Zeke had promised in his message, Rick hadn't expected this to work. And so when a wide door swung open, he believed—just for an instant—that maybe, just maybe, Alexia was still alive. And to his exhausted, space-wrecked brain, that belief acted like a drug, propelling him into the cold dark cavity.

For a few seconds, he couldn't see anything. But the compartment existed, so Alexia had to be here too. Zeke had cautioned against any use of artificial lighting at night, but the sun was just beginning to set, and he couldn't see otherwise, so he activated the beam on his oxygen mask.

The first thing he saw was an air purifier, pumping rhythmically. Then a toilet, a bundle of clothing, crates of water and food. And in the center of the room, an empty bedroll.

Training the beam around, he winced to see a discarded pair of goggles and an oxygen mask. What was she thinking? Then he spied the decon suit, also discarded, alongside a slender form curled against the wall and only half-covered by a thermal blanket.

Rushing over, he tried to pull her into his arms, but she slithered away, her slick, naked body slipping through his hands. Then she curled back up against the Titan, as though the cold, hard bio-metal were her life's blood.

Why was she naked? Why so slimy? And did it really matter? She was alive. Slimy, grayish and weak, but still…

He activated his pulse band. “Sensie? She's a mess, but she's alive.”

“Bring her aboard. I will treat her in the ACT.”

“She's in a mood,” he explained. Then he slipped his hand behind Alexia's neck and murmured, “Hey, Lexie. It's me. Rick.”

“No, no, no.” She wriggled free again and re-plastered herself against the wall.

Now what?

Force her to come aboard? Hadn't she had enough of that from the Seatons? Not that he knew the whole story yet, but even Zeke's cryptic account made his blood boil.

So he leaned over and whispered, “Okay, honey. I'll get the rest of the stuff. Then I'm going to carry you aboard the
Drifter
. Remember my ship? Remember Sensie?” His voice caught for a moment before he asked softly, “Remember me? Rick Gage? The guy who abandoned you? But I'm here now, so try to wake up.”

He patted her cheek, and was alarmed by the clammy feel. She seemed so entrenched in this nest of hers, like she had hunkered down for good.

He tried a firmer tone. “Alexia Montoya, wake up. It's time to go.” Slipping his arm around her waist, he dislodged her from the wall, but to his dismay, she started whimpering, begging him to “please, please” leave her alone.

“Okay, Lexie. Five more minutes, then we've got to get moving.”

Grabbing the mask, he strapped it so tightly to her face she wouldn't have the strength to remove it. Then he left her in her nest and got to work, shuttling three crates of water to the
Drifter
, aghast at how few bottles she had consumed. Nor had she even touched the food bars.

What have you been doing in here
? he asked her mournfully.

There was a thick bundle of clothing that appeared unused as well, and of course the chem toilet that still had its factory seal. He didn't dare leave anything behind, but would dispose of most—if not all—of it in deep space by blasting it into dust.

When everything was lined up on his ship's deck, he told Sensie, “I'm gonna grab her now. Be ready. She's pretty upset.”

“She is dying,” Sensie corrected him. “You cannot indulge her, Captain. She wants to die where she feels safe.”

“Geezus, you're right. She wants to effing die in there.”

“The time will come for Alexia Montoya to die,” the computer murmured, her tone unusually sentimental. “But today is not that day.”

He nodded, inspired. “Not today. And definitely not on our watch.”

Chapter Twenty

As Rick burst back into the Titan leg, he reminded himself defeat was not an option. Alexia would survive because she
had
to survive. He would save her because he
had
to save her.

It was as simple as that.

Kneeling beside her, he unstrapped her mask and cradled her chin in his hand. “Hey, beautiful, it's me—Rick. Time to go.”

She didn't respond, but it didn't matter. It
was
time to go, so that's what they were going to do.

“Alexia? Listen to me. You want to find your brother, don't you? We can't do that here. We need my ship. We need Sensie.”

“Sensie?”

She opened her golden eyes for the first time since his arrival. Then she said in a soft voice, “Cowboy?”

His throat closed with emotion.
Cowboy
. It was so much better than “wrangler”, or even “captain”. Better than anything, really. “Yeah, it's me. Your cowboy.”

“I'm so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“For what?” he said, hoping for a teasing tone. “I thought you'd be glad to see me.”

“I've been waiting for you,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Dreaming about you.”

“Yeah, I've been dreaming about you too,” he whispered, hoisting her up in his arms. Then without speaking further, mostly because he couldn't find the words, he carried her out of the Titan leg, slammed the door behind them, and strode onto the deck of his ship.

She was already undressed, so Rick stripped away his own decon suit and gear with one hand while holding her with another. It felt good to be naked with her again, even if his body was upright and alert, while hers was virtually comatose. After scooping her up again, he took her to the shower and activated the steamy water, hoping it would fortify her. Or at least, get rid of the blue slime covering every inch of her beautiful, five-foot-six-and-a-quarter-inch body.

She didn't resist, but also didn't cooperate. Instead, she slumped against him as though she were boneless. It made it difficult to wash her hair, much less to lather himself up, but it didn't matter. He hadn't felt this good—this complete—in weeks.

Maybe even years.

“Sensie? Can you read her vitals?”

“She is unwell, Captain. Dehydrated and feverish.”

“Is she poisoned?”

“I do not believe so. Just bathe her quickly and put her in the ACT. I can nourish and hydrate her there, and bring down the fever with an antibiotic.”

“Sounds good.” He chuckled as Alexia's supple body slid down his own again. “Man, I can't get rid of this ooze. What do you think it is? Ointment?”

“It does not matter, Captain. You can cleanse her more thoroughly later.”

“Right.” He activated the full-body blower and allowed the air to dry them both for a few moments, then he carried her to his bed, laid her on top of the covers, found a set of lightweight thermal long johns, and dressed her quickly. She curled into a ball so instinctively, he wanted to leave her right there, but knew Sensie was correct. She belonged in an ACT, so he dressed himself in a flight suit and picked her up again, this time moving to the hatch covering the
Drifter
's supply hold.

In contrast to the cargo hold, which currently held the behemoth thug, this compartment was barely large enough to accommodate his extra ACT unit and miscellaneous supplies, so he had to lower Alexia's limp body down cautiously, then jump in beside her and transfer her into the capsule.

“No, no,” she pleaded unhappily. “Not again. Please?”

His heart ached, imagining what she'd been through. Abandoned again and again, fearing for her life, and so alone it was criminal. No way could he force her into this cage, so he set her on the floor and watched as she scurried to the nearest blue wall and snuggled against it.

Without pausing to second-guess the decision, he heaved himself back up to his quarters and found the buckskin coat. She had liked it, hadn't she? And he knew firsthand it was warm. So he joined her again and wrapped it around her.

“Just go to sleep, Lexie. You're safe now. I promise.”

“Captain,” Sensie began, her tone gently critical.

But he cut her off with a sharp, “I know what I'm doing. Just proceed with the plan. We'll drop off the behemoth, then head for Sector Two. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain,” his computer assured him. “I understand completely.”

Forty minutes later he was standing on the open-air deck of Destry's largest recycling facility, watching through goggled eyes as the huge thug was lifted from the
Drifter's
hold by a powerful tow beam.

Beside him stood the facility's foreman, his expression filled with awe. “You weren't lying, Gage. That's the biggest fucking thug I've seen. By at least four feet.”

“He's a beast,” Rick agreed proudly.

“I don't blame you for bringing him in early. He must've drained your fuel cells like crazy. Man…”

Rick grinned, refusing to think about Alexia in her buckskin cocoon. The best thing he could do for her right now was sell this stunt so Sea-Mont wouldn't question his return. “Before this, my biggest was fourteen feet. This one's just shy of eighteen.”

“And by coincidence, the biggest one we ever got before this was fourteen feet,” the foreman joked. “You sure know how to entertain us. We'll put this guy on display for a few weeks, just like the last one. But we'll pay you right away, as always.”

“Sounds good.” Rick moved toward the
Drifter
. “I want to get back out there as soon as possible.”

“Are you kidding? We need to celebrate. I have a bottle of Scotch that's been itching for good news. And I want to hear the story. The other guys will too. So spend the night. We'll barbeque steaks and make a party of it.” Lowering his voice, he added solemnly, “It's been hell around here lately. The old man's on the platform, and we lost a bio-girl in the sinkhole. The guys could use the distraction.”

Rick winced. He didn't dare leave Alexia alone for too long in her condition. And they needed to get to Sector Two, where the Sea-Mont patrols were unlikely to board them for random inspection.

Or in this case, for non-random inspection. Because the rest of the place might be buying this, but TJ would be suspicious when he heard Alexia's cowboy had returned.

“I knew you guys would be curious, so I made you a holovid of the whole adventure,” he said, digging a token drive from the pocket of his jump suit. “No sound, since I swear like a smuggler when I'm wrangling. But the vid is sharp, I promise.”

The foreman accepted the video, but wasn't ready to let things go. “We want to
hear
about it, not just see it.”

Rick was ready with another excuse, but a workman saved him the trouble by stepping onto the deck and murmuring, “Hey, boss? Sorry to interrupt, but…”

Rick watched as the newcomer visibly choked up. The foreman noticed it too and demanded, “What the hell?”

Still miserable, the workman shoved a light pad into his boss's hand. The foreman winced, then scanned the screen. “Fuck.”

Rick maintained his cool, asking casually, “Trouble?”

“It's bad. See for yourself.” He thrust the pad at Rick. “It's fucking bad, Gage. How much more can we fucking take?”

Alarmed, Rick turned his full attention to the news bulletin from Sea-Mont D-side.

We regret to inform you that Alexia Montoya-Seaton, daughter of Roberto Montoya, sister of Trent, bride of TJ Seaton, was lost today in the sinkhole. It is believed she wanted to surprise her new husband with the wedding band of her deceased father. For that reason, she hired smugglers to facilitate her transit back to Earth. Arrests have been made, and more details will be provided as they become available. Alexia was dear to us all, yet we can find comfort in the knowledge she is reunited with her brother.

Rick's blood ran cold for a moment, even though he knew the message was untrue. He could only imagine how this foreman felt. How this worker felt. How everyone would feel when they heard this fucking lie. If he needed another reason to despise the Seatons, they had just supplied it, and he swore now on the lives of his parents he would make them pay.

Handing the pad back to his host, he murmured, “I'm just gonna take off if you don't mind.”

“Right.” The stunned foreman cleared a lump from his throat. “She didn't deserve to die that way. Fuck them for saying it's a comfort. Fuck them for everything. They never treated her right.”

Rick nodded.

“I was supposed to meet her next week on R&R. Most of the other guys talked to her already. Some went to the bio-girl's funeral, and they said—” He stopped himself, engulfed by sobs. “Fuck.”

Rick wanted to egg him on. To enlist his support in the battle that would soon rage between Montoya and Seaton. But the poor guy was a wreck, and the battle—while surely on the horizon—had not yet taken shape.

And if we don't get Alexia healthy again, it never will
, he reminded himself harshly. And so with one final nod to the foreman, he hurried back to his ship.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he instructed Sensie to fly them toward Sector Two using pulse engines only. “And don't nag me about putting her in an ACT. She needs human contact. That's the best medicine.”

“Are you sure it is Alexia who needs human contact, Captain? Not yourself?”

“Unbelievable,” he growled. “Just fly the ship, will you?”

“Yes, Captain. Right away.”

He jumped into the supply hold and spied Alexia, looking cozy under the buckskin jacket and nestling against the wall as she'd done in the Titan.

And just like in the Titan, she had stripped away the rest of her clothing.

“She's as stubborn as you are, Sensie.”

“I am aware.”

Frustrated but also amused, he sandwiched his passenger's face between his hands. “Alexia? Are you with me?”

“Cowboy?”

“In the flesh. Come on, let's go to bed.”

Sensie had been right about one thing: Rick needed sleep as much as Alexia did. And so they slept together, naked and entwined in his bunk, for ten full hours. When he awoke, he barely stirred, but rather just stared at her with renewed amazement.

She was alive. Better still, she was here. With him. Sure, her skin was a little green and her right cheek had some residual gunk on it. But her dark, copper-streaked hair was as thick and wavy as ever, spilling over her shoulders, her breasts…

Cut it out
, he warned himself. Aloud he said, “Hey, Sensie? How are her vitals?”

“She is still weak. And dangerously dehydrated. If you can't make her drink something, she will perish and you will be distraught. Of course, I could easily hydrate her in an ACT, but I understand why that is impossible.”

“You're hilarious.” He fetched a glass of water and returned to the bunk. “Hey, sleepyhead. Let's drink some water, okay?”

She took a few sips then cuddled against him. “I'm so tired.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I'm so sorry, cowboy.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about,” he murmured.

“I dreamed of you. You had a blue horse.”

“That's because you had blue ooze in your eye,” he said, trying to sound upbeat. “Have another sip now, honey.”

But she just turned away toward the bio-metal wall, snuggling against it as ardently as she had against Rick, her breathing shallow but with a passably steady rhythm.

“Okay, we'll play it your way,” he muttered, kissing the back of her head. “I've got work to do. But I'll be back soon.”

He hadn't expected an answer, but still felt bad leaving her without saying more.

“You need to eat,” Sensie scolded him.

“Can you make me something while I get dressed? Then I'm gonna coat that stupid toilet with plasticel and launch it.”

“And blow it up? I approve, Captain. It will surely be therapeutic.”

Over the next twenty-four hours, Rick stood guard as Alexia slept. And slept and slept and slept. She wasn't getting better, but wasn't worse either. She also wasn't getting any cleaner, but he didn't have the heart to drag her into the shower again. She accepted an occasional sip of water, at least, and whenever Rick got into the bunk with her, she wrapped herself around him, making him believe she now preferred him to a cold bio-metal wall.

As her fever receded, he knew the next step was food, but she seemed too weak for that, so Sensie whipped up a concoction of water, electrolytes and vitamins, adding enough sugar to make it enticing. When Alexia gulped it down, they tried a protein shake, and she surprised them by taking three hearty gulps and murmuring, “Mmmmm,” even though most of it dripped down her chin and onto her breasts.

It reminded Rick of that first night, when she'd appeared in the fluffy white top, driving him crazy with the need to lick something off her. If Sensie hadn't been hovering nearby, he might actually have tasted these drips in playful tribute to their once and future sex life. But he wasn't about to explain that to a computer, so he used a soft cloth to wipe Alexia clean, then joined her for another segment of her endless nap.

She had said she dreamed about him. And he had thought about her too, probably way too much. So now they would both dream and hopefully meet in the middle.

And then what?
he asked himself, remembering the mess they'd left behind on the platform. But it was too soon to worry about that. Or maybe it was too late. Too late for Gabby. Too late for Zeke. Too late for everyone.

No wonder she wanted to sleep.

Alexia couldn't get enough of Rick. Her cowboy, her hero, her lover, but most of all, her refuge. Sometimes he loomed above her, his voice low, seductive, sincere. Sometimes he was sound asleep, his breathing strong and reassuring. But he was always there, and she could have him any time she wanted. That was the miracle of him. He had dedicated himself to protecting her, and if she dared call his name, he would oblige her, and she would greedily enjoy the feel of his lean muscles, knowing they weren't just for show. Nor were they just for sex or sport. His body was a weapon, and even in her delirium, she knew she needed one of those.