Authors: Nina Croft
He was sure he could persuade her, after all, she was a woman, and she'd kissed him. A little sweet talk, a little seduction, she'd be eating out of his hands.
He felt much better once he had a plan. The feeling didn't last for long. Just long enough for him to realize what a load of crap his "plan" was, and that he was very likely a dead man.
Still, it was the only plan he had. The problem was, in order for it to be implemented, he needed her here, and so far, hers hadn't been one of the faces peering in through the window. But she'd come. She wouldn't be able to resist coming.
In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to get the crew on his side. The next time a face appeared at the window, he gave them his best boyish smile.
Bloody Zachary Knight. He'd only been on her ship for two days, and he was already causing havoc.
Mel glared around the table at her crew. "Where the hell are your hardcore mercenary sensibilities?" she asked. "You're supposed to be tough guys, well, tough girls. You're not supposed to be pushovers for the first man who comes along."
"But Mel," Angie said, "he only wants to talk to you."
"He wants to help you," Grace added.
"Help me? Help me how, for God's sake?"
"He says he has really important information. He says the Agency will get you a pardon if you give it to them."
"I don't want a pardon, I like being a pirate."
"And he can get us a new space ship."
"I like this one."
"He says he knows where Sanderson's money is hidden."
Mel raised her hands and clapped. "Enough, enough already. We're taking him to the rendezvous, we're collecting our money, and that's it."
"But Mel, he fixed the intercom in the cell," Darla said. "If we let him out, he says he can fix a lot of other things as well."
"I don't believe this," Mel muttered. He was subverting her crew. Her crew of confirmed man-haters. "Where has 'all men are bastards' gone?" She turned to Darla. "And have you forgotten he's dangerous and he eats babies?"
"Don't be silly, Mel. That's just propaganda. Besides, he told me I had beautiful eyes."
"And he told us we have beautiful hair," Angie added.
Mel looked at her in amazement. Angie and Grace were twins, both plant hybrids, born and bred in an experimental laboratory. Mel had discovered them five years ago while
The Revenge
was doing a routine delivery job. She'd freed them—how could she not after her own upbringing—but that had been one more job they hadn't been paid for.
Angie had olive skin, eyes like emeralds, and hair like polished jade. Striking maybe, but hardly conventionally beautiful.
"It's green," she said.
"So?"
Mel couldn't believe what she was hearing. She shook her head in disgust, took a mouthful of food, and scowled. "What is this shit?"
"Raspberry Jello."
"I hate Jello," she muttered.
"I bet it's Zachary's favourite, though," Leila murmured from beside her. Leila was the only one who hadn't been taken in by the charming act.
Mel slammed her plate down on the table. Everyone stopped eating and looked at her warily.
"Do any of you know what happens if we don't get paid for this job?"
Darla shifted in her seat. "I do."
"And would you like to explain it for the benefit of the rest of them that haven't quite managed to grasp it?"
Darla sighed. "If we don't get some spare parts soon,
The Revenge
will literally fall apart. She's held together with bits of string."
"Okay," Mel said, "so does that make things clear?"
"But..."
"No 'buts'. We are going to the rendezvous, we're handing him over, and we're getting paid. I don't have an option, which means neither do you. So from now on, you lot just stay out of his way."
"But Mel, he needs to eat."
"Does he?" she answered darkly. "If that's the case, Leila can take his meals."
"She'd probably poison him."
Mel grinned. "Yup." She put down her spoon and stood up. "Have you got the activator for his restraints?" she asked Darla.
Darla pulled the box out of her pocket and passed it to Mel. "Here, but I really don't think you'll need it. He's docile as a lamb."
Mel rolled her eyes. This was truly unbelievable. She snatched the activator from Darla's hand and stalked out of the room.
She slowed down as soon as she was alone.
She'd been half way to his cell so many times over the last couple of days it was embarrassing. Or would be, if anyone knew.
There was no need for her to see him. That's what had stopped her from completing the journey, so far. They were another two days out from the rendezvous point; she should shut him out of her mind, get there, hand him over, and forget he ever existed.
She'd told the truth, they did need the money, desperately. So she had to do this. She was responsible for all their lives; they had made her responsible when they made her captain.
On top of that, she was being haunted by that goddamn kiss. She could still feel him, taste him on her lips. And she needed to prove to herself that it didn't matter. That's why she was going to see him. To prove he meant absolutely nothing to her. Nothing at all.
She paused outside the cell door, slipped the activator into her pants pocket, and pressed her palm to the lock. The door slid open.
He lounged on the cot, a reader in his hands. Someone had cut his hair; it was as short now as when she'd first seen him ten years ago, and he wore black pants but was naked from the waist up.
She scowled. Hadn't she told Darla to get him some clothes?
Instead, he was sitting around half-naked, flaunting his bare chest in front of her crew. He looked up, wariness entering his cat's eyes as he saw her loitering in the doorway. She stepped into the cell, and the door shut behind her.
He put the reader down. "We need to talk," he said.
"We do? Well, talk then."
He thought for a moment. "Sanderson is evil."
Mel shrugged and put on her best cold-eyed killer expression. "So am I."
"Of course you are, sweetheart."
His words really pissed her off. It didn't help that they were accompanied by a smile, a sort of lopsided, boyish grin. The smile she knew was turning the rest of her crew to mush. But not her.
She was tougher than that.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and pressed the green button.
He went instantly still, his eyes glaring murder. "You bitch."
She grinned. "See, evil." She pressed the red button. He glowered at her and slowly uncoiled his body from the cot. He was so big, nearly a head taller than she was, and she had to force herself to stand her ground.
"Actually," she said, "I dropped in to tell you that from now on, Leila will be bringing your food."
He scowled. "Don't let that bloodthirsty little bitch near me."
Mel grinned again. "She likes you as well."
"So what's this for? Your crew giving you trouble? Don't they like the idea of handing an innocent man over to a psychopathic maniac?"
"Purely a safety precaution. The poor things haven't seen a man in a long time, and desperate women stop being choosey after a while."
"Not you though?"
"No, so don't bother trying any of that charming shit on me. It won't work."
"Charming shit?" he asked in a voice like warm honey. It was a beautiful voice, it made her ears tingle, and it pissed her off all over again.
She fingered the activator in her pocket. "Yeah, charming shit. You know the sort of thing I mean. 'Oh Darla, you have got beautiful eyes,'" she mimicked.
Zach grinned. "She has."
"Well, I haven't," Mel snarled. "So don't waste your breath."
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her thoughtfully. "No, they're not beautiful," he said after a minute of uncomfortable silence. "The first time I saw you, I thought they were hawk's eyes—fierce, predatory."
"Yeah, well, that's me, fierce and predatory, so don't forget it."
"But you do have a beautiful mouth."
"What?" The word was out before she could stop it, and satisfaction glinted in his eyes.
"It's full and soft and tastes of raspberries."
"Okay, stop right there."
He ignored her warning. "And..."
She pressed the green button. His body went rigid. Shock and anger flashed across his face, but it definitely shut him up. She pressed the red button.
"Sorry," she murmured, "my finger slipped."
He glared at her but recovered quickly. "So why are you really here?" he asked. "I don't believe you came just to tell me Leila was bringing my food from now on."
She shrugged. "I decided that it was only fair to let you know that this whole thing isn't personal." At his look of complete disbelief, she continued. "It occurred to me that you might be laboring under the misapprehension that it was. Personal, I mean. You know, because of the unfair way you persecuted me..."
"Unfair! You stole my ship."
"...in the past." She ignored his comment. "But I want to assure you that it isn't. It's purely business. You're simply a commodity that someone is willing to pay for."
He was looking at her in amazement. "Are you totally without morals?"
She nodded. "Yup."
"I don't believe you. You're feeling guilty, that's why you're here. You don't really want to hand me over to Sanderson."
"Oh, yes, I do. Besides," she continued, "it really doesn't matter. As I've just been explaining to the rest of the crew. I have no choice. I need the money." She didn't know why she told him that, but maybe it would prove she was serious, and he would stop bugging her.
"I told you, I can get money."
"But I need the money, now."
"Mercenary bitch."
She stared up at him. He loomed over her, arms folded across his bare chest, legs apart, peering down at her from his considerable height.
Superior bastard. Yeah, she was mercenary, but she had to be, she had responsibilities. He was starting to piss her off. Again. It was amazing, but some people never learned. She gave in to the urge and pressed the green button.