3013: MENDED (2 page)

Sighing, Cami pulled her hair forward around her face to hide the scroll mark near her eye and exited the craft into a large, hollow tube that led inside the bay. At least she’d made it to her destination before she’d gone and broken something. As she stood in the middle of the docking bays, surrounded by more rusted machinery than she’d seen in her combined twenty-four years, she had to wonder what her brother had been thinking.

“Excuse me.” Dropping the data chips into the pocket of her pink halter dress, she approached the nearest dock worker to ask for directions. “I’m trying to find—oh.”

My stars, he’s huge.

The tip of her nose aligned with his sternum, and she had to tilt her head back to look up into his golden, cat-like eyes. A section of his thick locks hung in his face, having worked itself loose of the leather band he’d used to secure his long, honey-colored hair at the base of his neck.

“What?” he barked.

Cami tensed at his deep, booming voice, but she didn’t move away. “You’re a Helios.”

Muscles upon muscles rippled and bulged when he moved, seriously testing the elasticity of the plain black jacket he wore. “Really? I wasn’t aware.”

He started to turn away, but Cami grabbed his arm with both hands. “Wait, please. My name is Camille Brighton.”

Angling just his shoulders toward her, he followed the length of his arm to where her fingers coiled around his wrist, and then finally up to meet her gaze. “Tariq,” he answered after a long, uncomfortable silence. “What do you want, Camille Brighton?”

“Please, call me Cami.” She’d never much cared for the name Camille. It sounded too…stuffy, and it didn’t fit her personality. “Can you tell me where I might find Commander Garrett Quinn?”

“Sure, on Alpha Station: X4.”

Maybe he was being dense on purpose. “I understand that. Where can I find him here?”

His brows drew together, forming a shallow
V
above the bridge of his nose. “You can’t. He’s on X4.”

Swallowing down her growing frustration, Cami pasted a bright smile on her face and spoke slowly. Perhaps his language converter was malfunctioning. “I need to find Commander Quinn. He’s on this space station, and it’s imperative that I locate him.”

Tariq quirked one of his honey-colored eyebrows, and when he answered, he spoke just as slowly, only more mockingly. “Look all you want, but there is no Commander Quinn here. He’s on X4.”

“But this
is
X4,” Cami blurted, losing the battle with her emotions.

“No.” The tips of his fangs protruded from under his top lip when he laughed at her. “Well, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you? This is Beta Station 4.”

Panic threatened to creep in, but Cami took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, and she could fix this. “My ship’s navigation controls need repairs.”

“Not my job.” Tariq shrugged. “You’ll want Dennison.”

He turned away from her, but Cami hurried around his big frame to stop him. “Okay, where can I find him?”

“He’s out to lunch. You’re welcome to wait, Your Highness.”

Fisting her hands at her sides, Cami gritted her teeth together and fought to leash her temper. The more her emotions got away from her, the harder she found it to keep her mental guards in place. Though the space station had clearly seen better days, it was of decent size, and with that many people, their inner thoughts would quickly overwhelm her if she didn’t calm herself.

“I’ll wait.” Cami jabbed her finger toward the far side of the bay. “Over there.”

“Suit yourself.”

Ugh!
She’d never had the misfortune to meet someone so completely infuriating. Hopefully, this Dennison fellow would return soon, and she could be on her away, with Station 4 far in her rearview.

Wandering past the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, Cami studied the ships on the landing platforms while she struggled to block out the voices prodding her mental shields. Sadly, she was out of practice, and unspoken thoughts began to creep into her mind from the various residents and visitors on the station.

A waitress in a bar seethed about some Krytos grabbing her backside. A merchant contemplated how many credits he could weasel out of his current trade. A restaurant owner wondered if her shipment had arrived in the cargo bay yet. One voice bled into the other, creating a cacophony of noise in her head as they all combined into a dull ache behind her eyes.

“Don’t kill me. I don’t want to die.”

Jerking to a stop, Cami scanned the area, searching for the source of the frantic thoughts. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pinpoint its location, but the voice came to her louder, clearer, and it had to have originated from somewhere nearby. She guessed one of the docked ships, likely a cargo hold, but she couldn’t know for sure.

She turned, intending to find someone to report what she’d heard to, but another voice slithered into her mind. Icy menace dripped from every syllable, rendering her immobile as fear held her in its grip.

“Stupid whores just couldn’t keep their goddamn mouths shut, and now this asshole knows. Fuck Jahara’s orders, he’s a liability.”

Breaking into a run, Cami fled back toward her ship, hoping to find Tariq or anyone else who could help her. She didn’t make it far before searing pain lanced through her head. The force of it, even felt secondhand, dropped her to her knees where she held her temples and fought through the disorientation.

Her vision dimmed and the next breath caught in her chest, but the episode didn’t last long. By the time it had passed, there was nothing she could do.

Now, only dead silence existed where she’d first heard the panicked thoughts of a man begging for his life.

Buried up to his elbows in the mechanical schematics of a ZR1 cargo freighter, Tariq didn’t turn to acknowledge the footsteps approaching from behind. “What is it now?”

He didn’t have to look to know who wanted his attention. The intoxicating scent of fresh rain and lavender saturated the air, forcing him to grit his teeth to stave off a wave of lust. The slip of a girl who’d stepped off the private cruiser had trouble written all over her, and he didn’t have the time for complications.

“There’s been a murder,” she blurted, her voice wavering as she fumbled her fingers and shuffled her feet.

Placing his tablet on the workstation to his left, Tariq turned slowly and folded his arms over his chest. “Do you want to repeat that?”

“I was walking, and I heard this voice. He was begging for someone not to kill him.”

Her steel-gray eyes stared up at him, wide and beseeching, as she fumbled her fingers together. Whether she’d witnessed a murder or not, he didn’t know, but something had clearly terrified her.

“Which ship?”

“I, uh, well…” Trailing off, she shuffled her feet nervously and hung her head. “I don’t exactly know which one.”

“Then how did you see this supposed murder?”

“I didn’t
see
it.” The female lowered her eyes, staring at her clasped hands as she spoke. “I heard it.”

Sliding two fingers beneath her chin, he urged her face up so he could see her eyes again. He liked it when she looked at him. “I didn’t hear anything, and I’m certain my senses are more heightened than yours. Explain.”

“I didn’t hear with my ears.” Lifting her right index finger, she tapped it to her temple and winced. “I heard it here.”

He couldn’t explain why, but he believed her. With her scent surrounding him, she might have told him his home planet of Helix had seven moons and he wouldn’t have questioned it. Still, he could sense the turmoil raging inside her, had seen the way she’d flinched away from him when she’d revealed her gift. He might not have all the details yet, but this wasn’t just a female seeking attention.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” The storm-gray of her irises brightened, and a charming smile curved her lips. “You believe me?”

“For now.” His opinion counted for very little aboard the space station, though. “Follow me.” Halfway across Docking Bay E, Tariq tensed when the central alarm system blared from the overhead speakers. “Fuck,” he snarled.

Grabbing the girl around the waist, he hauled her over his shoulder and sprinted for the exit. Around him, the walls groaned, the floors vibrated, and the alarm system audibly counted the time remaining until lockdown. Dock workers scrambled toward the other exits, while waiting visitors hurried to board their vessels. All the while, the alarm’s robotic voice continued its backward count to zero.

“
Alert. Airlock breech in Docking Bay E. Emergency lockdown in ten seconds. Nine…eight…seven…
”

The chaotic scene lasted almost an entire minute, though it felt like no more than a heartbeat had passed by the time Tariq slipped through the sliding doors. Lowering Cami to her feet, he brushed her dark, silky hair away from her face as the override locks grinded into place behind him.

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes looked too big for her face, and her cheeks were stained with pink, highlighting the freckles on her nose, but she bobbed her head. “What in the fudge brownies was that?”

“Fudge brownies?” Tariq snorted. “Well, aren’t you just a little angel?”

Leaning away, he opened his mouth to say something else sarcastic when a dark swirl near Cami’s right eye caught his attention. Holding her chin, he forced her face to the side and pushed her hair back from her temple.

“Don’t.” Stumbling away from him, Cami hurried to cover the scroll tattoo again while she searched the corridor for prying eyes. “Please, you can’t tell anyone.”

Having lived among the humans on the station for the past nine years, Tariq had become well-versed in their customs and traditions. He still didn’t understand why they insisted on branding their females, or why those women capable of bearing offspring possessed more value.

  Guarded and well-protected, scrolls didn’t venture to places like Station 4, and therefore, he knew little about them. The infertile females, however, those marked with only a simple star, he’d encountered on several occasions. Beautiful, strong, and capable, any male would be blessed to call one of those women his own, but from what he gathered, that wasn’t usually the case.

With greedy elites, corrupt mercenaries, and immoral smugglers roaming about the station, Cami’s secret wouldn’t stay hidden for long. Once Tariq escorted her to the general’s office, though, she’d cease to be his problem.

“I’ll keep your secret, but you can’t hide that mark forever.”

“Navarra!”

Closing his eyes momentarily, Tariq choked back the growl building in his chest and turned to face the approaching lieutenants. “Parsons. Becks.”

“General Whitmore wants to see you in his office.” Lieutenant Thomas Becks shifted to the side to peer around him. “What do we have here?” A wicked smirk tilted one side of his mouth as he moved toward Cami.

Sidestepping to block the lieutenant’s advance, Tariq reached behind him and pulled Cami closer. “Back off ’leet. The girl’s with me.” If he had any sense, he’d turn her over and be done with it. Good thing no one had ever accused him of good sense. “We’ll follow you.”

Becks exuded cockiness from the top of his blond, regulation-short hair to the soles of his standard-issue black boots. “She’s human, and if she’s a scroll, we have every right to claim her.” Scraping his fingernails down the off-centered zipper of his gray uniform jacket, he arched one pale eyebrow in challenge. “Step aside, Navarra.”

While Becks distracted him, Parsons crept to the left in an attempt to get closer to Cami. Tariq heard the muffled swish of his boots over the carpeted floor before he saw the movement from the corner of his eye. Reacting on instinct, he palmed the elite’s face and slammed him against the wall. Tariq found a special kind of pleasure in the way the asshole’s head bounced off the metallic paneling with a dull thud.

Before Becks could react, Tariq grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against the opposite wall so that his toes barely brushed the floor. “Do you need me to fucking spell it out for you? I said the girl…is…with…me.” Baring his fangs, he pulled the lieutenant closer until their noses almost touched and then slammed him against the wall again to emphasize his point. “Are we fucking clear?”

“Tariq, look out!” Cami warned.

Without releasing Becks, Tariq looked over his shoulder to find Parsons on his feet with a blaster trained at his head. The weapon only served to piss him off more, and the growl he’d been holding back rumbled through his lips.

“I don’t like being threatened, ’leet.”

Bold as anything, Cami stepped between them and linked her fingers together at her waist as she looked up at Parsons. “I suggest you put that blaster away unless you want to see what your insides look like.” She nodded sideways at Tariq. “He’s considering it right now, and I have to say, it’s not pretty.”

Becks kicked and sputtered as he tried to free himself, and he’d begun to turn an interesting shade of purple to match his amethyst-colored eyes. Tariq barely noticed, not until Cami spoke again.

“Tariq, there’s going to be an awful lot of paperwork if you kill that poor man.” Moving to his side, she pressed her slender fingers to his forearm and smiled. “Let him go.”

“In my thirty-four years, I’ve learned one thing to be irrefutable.” General Holden Whitmore stopped just beyond the fray and folded his hands together behind his back. “I fucking loathe paperwork. Now, listen to the girl.” He nodded at Tariq. “Release him.” Then he shifted his focus to Parsons. “Please, we’re all friends here. No need to salute.”

Tariq wouldn’t call the general a friend, but he did respect the man. With a final squeeze to Becks’ throat, he released the lieutenant, smirking as the idiot stumbled to find his footing. Lieutenant Geoffrey Parsons holstered his blaster as both elites snapped to attention, thumping their right fists over their chests.

“Dismissed.” General Whitmore waved them away.

“Sir, we came to escort Navarra to your office as requested when he attacked without—”

The general halted Becks’ protest with his steely glare. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. I trust I don’t need to repeat myself a third time.” Moving just his head, he returned his attention to Tariq and sighed. “Follow me.”

None of them spoke as General Whitmore led them through the winding corridors. Tense and alert, Tariq kept a hand on the small of Cami’s back as they walked, prepared to defend her against anyone or anything he deemed a threat. He told himself his protective behavior was a side effect of the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Only a small part of him believed the lie.

“Take a seat.” General Whitmore pressed the button to close the door to his small, cluttered office and rounded his desk to claim his own chair. “Tariq,” he said, jumping straight to the issue, “do you want to tell me what the hell just happened?”

“One of the ships in Docking Bay E attempted to leave the landing platform before disengaging from the terminal’s airlock.”

“I’m aware. I’ve already dispatched repair crews to assess the damage.” Resting his elbows on the desk, he leaned forward, piercing Tariq with his icy blue gaze. “But you know damn well that’s not what I meant. What happened with Parsons and Becks?”

Tariq stretched his legs out, crossing one ankle over the other and slouched back in his seat. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please, sir.” Resting on the edge of her chair with her hands fisted together in her lap, Cami waited for the general to acknowledge her. “The matter with the lieutenants is the least of your concerns. I’m afraid there’s been a murder on your station.”

General Whitmore’s lips pressed together in a harsh line, and his eyes narrowed as he studied her. “That’s quite the allegation. What is your name, miss?”

“Camille, sir, Camille Brighton.”

“And did you witness this murder?”

“In a way.” She chewed her bottom lip, and her gaze slid sideways to Tariq. “I, uh, heard it.”

Her wonderfully alluring scent of rain and lavender permeated the air in the small room, making it hard for Tariq to concentrate. As a result, he’d missed the entire exchange between Cami and the general, but the distress in her tone piqued his protective instincts once more. Straightening in his seat, he gripped the armrest of Cami’s chair and slid her closer to his side.

General Whitmore arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on Tariq’s behavior. Good thing, too, because Tariq didn’t know what the hell had come over him. He’d been wrong in his initial assessment of the dark-haired beauty with stormy gray eyes. She wasn’t just trouble. She was downright dangerous.

“Okay, Camille,” the general said after a long, awkward pause. “Elaborate.”

With a huff that made her nostrils flare, Cami straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “I’m a Class-A Telepath. That’s how I heard it.”

“Impossible.”

“I assure you, it’s not.” Her eyes tightened at the corners and a muscle in her jaw ticked. “And I’d appreciate it if you could stop thinking about my breasts while we’re discussing a man’s death.”

Part of Tariq wanted to laugh at the blush that climbed the general’s neck and clashed horribly with his auburn hair. A bigger, more violent part of him, however, wanted to crawl over the desk and punch the bastard right in his mouth. In the end, he settled on a flash of fangs and a menacing snarl as he pulled his black, light-weight jacket off and wrapped it around Cami’s shoulders.

“Apologize,” he demanded.

“Please accept my apologies.” The general paused to clear his throat, but his sincerity bled through with every word. “That was inappropriate and disrespectful.”

“Thank you,” Cami whispered to Tariq as she finished covering herself with the jacket. Placing her hand on his arm near the crook of his elbow, she squeezed gently before addressing the general again. “If you’re ready to take me seriously, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

General Whitmore nodded and motioned for her to continue. As Cami told her story, Tariq watched the elite, studying his expressions and gauging his reactions. A heavy dose of skepticism showed in the hard set of his mouth, and his pale-green eyes glazed in disinterest. Either he didn’t believe her, or he didn’t care. Tariq was betting the former.

“The killer said that this guy had seen too much.” A pink hue washed over Cami’s face, and she looked down at her knees. “He said the ‘whores’ couldn’t keep their mouths shut.”

With a loud sigh, the general shook his head and rocked back in his chair. “It sounds to me like what you heard was nothing more than a disagreement over a couple of bay bunnies.”

“I’m sorry, a couple of what?”

“Prostitutes,” Tariq explained. “They hang around the docking bays and cater mostly to traders and smugglers.” They also provided their services to the dock workers, but he decided to keep that bit of information to himself.

The blush in Cami’s cheeks darkened to a deep crimson. When she spoke, instead of the embarrassment Tariq had expected, her voice trembled with barely contained rage. “So, you think a man was murdered over
sex?
”