Bargain With the Enemy (3 page)

Her lips trembled as she absorbed the import of his words. They rang through her mind like a bell's death knell in an abandoned churchyard.
I can't be locked in a cell again.

She stared at him over the baby's head.

He enjoyed baiting her, terrifying her by drawing a stark picture of her future, she thought with rising anger. In his dark eyes there was nothing but the glacial gloat of victory.

He might think he held all the cards at the moment, but she wasn't finished yet! But perhaps it might be best if he thought otherwise.

One long stride and he was at her side.

Again. It was as if he could not bear to be apart from his niece for too long now that he had found her.

But Steph knew that to be ridiculous.

No Traditionalist Darkon could ever entertain feelings or emotions for anything; certainly not a baby he'd termed a
mixed-breed.

He passed a hand over Mia's silky hair. It was a caressing motion and one Stephanie hardly credited such a rigid Traditionalist Darkon would ever make. The baby's head popped up from her resting place on Stephanie's shoulder. A queer pang pierced her heart at the look of wonder on Mia's face as she stared at the imposing Darkon.

He stood way too close for Stephanie's comfort. It took all her willpower not to move beyond his reach.
Don't show him how much his proximity bothers you. Keep cool.

‘In the interests of preserving my family's reputation, I will give you one aon before advising the authorities of your whereabouts.'

‘And in return?' Her mouth felt numb, making it hard to force words from her dry throat.

He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘You hand over the youngling now, with no fuss.'

Stephanie jerked her chin in the direction of his soldiers. ‘You could just take what you want now.'

‘This is true; however I have no taste for brawling with puny females.' Tossing the pouch in the air, he caught it, sending the creds jiggling like taunting music. ‘Five hundred creds. Yours. Simply step aside.'

He had rocks in his head if he thought she would ever agree to that!
Longing to thump her fist into his implacable face, erase that remote sneer forever, she reined in her anger.
Not yet, let's see exactly how impervious he is to human emotion.
She squeezed out a tear. Let it roll all the way down her cheek.

My one talent. The ability to cry at will.

From beneath lowered lashes, she watched him follow its progression.

His mouth compressed.

A muscle twitched one side of his lips.

Ahh hah!

She emitted a soft sigh. She gave it everything….pathos, anguish, defeat. She blinked in rapid succession giving the impression she was holding back an entire ocean of tears.

Behind her, his henchmen shuffled their feet, their cyno armour creaking. She swallowed, her voice when she spoke sounded husky and low. ‘Is there any way I can change your mind?'

‘Negative.' His hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around.

Damnit.

She stifled the urge to gnaw on her lower lip as his sharp eyes examined her face. Stephanie tried for wide eyed and innocent.

‘You will stay out of her life. And on the proviso you keep your word, a reasonable sum of creds will be forwarded to you on an on-going basis. Any attempt to contact her will result in your immediate imprisonment.'

His scathing tone implied he doubted she would bother to seek the baby out once money had exchanged hands.

‘Do you really believe that money can buy anything?'

His lower lip curled into a snarl. ‘In my experience, of course.' He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers, his chilling, dark eyes boring into the depths of her soul. ‘I know exactly what type of female you are — one who for the right price will perjure everything. Her body, her life, her child, anything for the power of wealth.'

Stephanie anchored the baby within her left arm.

Her right hand lashed out.

The smack jolted his face sideways. The sound reverberated through the cramped space and for several seconds no one moved.

The red imprint of her slap stood out stark against the dark tone of his cheek. Her lack of control horrified her. Now she had handed him another weapon to use against her.
Fool!

‘Dramatics do not impress me.' He spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes glittered with barely suppressed emotion through half closed lids.

‘Bullying tactics do not impress me!' Stephanie retaliated in another bold move.

Something flashed in his eyes and, flinching, she took a prudent step backwards.

He stared down his nose and said in an affronted voice, ‘I do not hit defenceless creatures.'

‘And I don't hit men! But then you're not a man, are you? You're like some kind of robotic alien, imperious to any kind of emotion, determined to trample any helpless woman in your path.' Her voice wobbled. She sucked in a breath.

‘Hardly helpless,' he murmured and rubbed his cheek. ‘Like the kick of a draptile.'

Her face burned. Why did she suddenly feel the one in the wrong?

And why did he stare at her so, as if she was an interesting phenomenon? Or was he digging for her weaknesses?

As far as Stephanie was concerned she only had one weakness and she was holding her. Her weakness and her strength. She placed a loving kiss onto Mia's satiny skin as the baby blew more bubbles.

Ivo's rough voice interrupted her musing. ‘Hand her over without any further arguments. I have no desire to continue to converse with you.'

Still she persisted. ‘It's late, almost her feeding time. Who will look after her? How do I know I can trust you to keep to your word? And with the curfew in place, how can you leave this sector?'

‘Not that you need to know, but I have a female well versed in caring for younglings.' He held up a hand. ‘The curfew does not apply to my ship. As soon as we have completed off-loading our cargo, we will depart.'

Then I still have time!

‘I will take her now.' He dropped the pouch of creds onto the floor where it landed with a loud thunk. Face shuttered, his hands slid around the baby and brushed against her breast. Then Mia was lifted from her grasp.

Flustered at the queasy sensation in the lower pit of her belly engendered by his touch she stood mute and shaking.

This is it. I can't fight all of them. I have to risk it.

Feeling as if he had ripped her soul from her body, Stephanie turned to face him. He stood feet braced arrogantly apart, face chiselled from a slab of ice, baby Mia cradled in his arms.

For a second she thought she saw a brief flash of disappointment glitter in those cold eyes, but that had to be a product of her crazy imagination.

Her hands curled into fists, her fingers drew blood from her palms.

The expression she blasted him with would have done Medusa proud.

‘I want to say goodbye to her,' she said. She held out her arms.

‘You have now sold your offspring to me. There is no need for you to pretend an attachment you obviously are incapable of feeling.'

She read nothing but cynical disgust on his face. The words boiling on her lips shrivelled and died.

Her head lifted with stubborn pride.
Let him think what he liked!
His opinion meant nothing to her.

She barely registered his henchmen as they filed past and followed their commander out the door.

The hatch clattered shut.

And Stephanie, alone in the silent compartment, lowered her empty arms.

The balmy computer-generated breeze flowed through Ivo El Boeka's private quarters on Level 1, giving the occupier the impression of a warm night he'd often experienced in the mountains of Cerciron.

A massive holograph depicting the jagged and treacherous landscape of his home planet covered the smooth wall on one side. Gradually the scene changed to night with the shadows lengthening and a band of glittering stars appearing in the sky above. On the horizon a moon banded by rings hovered above the tallest mountain. Thin ribbons of pale light glowed like pointing fingers of accusation towards where he paced the length of the starkly furnished room.

With an impatient snap of his head against his shoulder, he attempted to ease the itch on the tip of his nose. A complete waste of time.

He did not dare release his grasp of the baby in his arms.

Despite having faced and conquered dire situations in the past, situations that would have made most warriors turn weak kneed and run, not one of those desperate times compared to this…this situation that revolved around one determined, stubborn, screaming infant.

The dark-haired Darkon female he'd hired, trotted to and fro at his side. Her serene face puckered into lines of anxiety and her lamentations added to the growing crescendo of noise that could have toppled the strongest building.

Ivo raised his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to his goddess of old for patience. Some silence would be good.

Any silence.

A brief respite from this all consuming noise which pierced through his skull and threatened to rattle loose all the teeth in his head. How could so much noise emanate from something so small? He rubbed the little back with a gentle hand which failed to soothe the distraught baby.

They had both tried everything.

But nothing gave Mia any consolation. Not the one hundred percent free-roaming berbers' milk, not the freshly squeezed niska juice, not the fabled water from the Flaviani Springs, not the expensive plush soft toys, not the lively youngling tunes playing with nauseating repetitiveness from his compu intercom.

Nothing gave her solace.

‘She cries for her parent,' Ursa El Florentt said, wringing her hands over another excruciatingly shrill wail. ‘Perhaps…'

The rest of her words died away as Ivo glared at her.

He compressed his lips and stalked back and forth.

Nothing!
Nothing would induce him to go begging for assistance from that inferior honourless female!

The memory of their recent encounter still left him with a bitter twist to his mouth. Bitter, because deep down inside in a place he rarely visited he had nurtured a hope that perhaps she would prove to be otherwise. For one long moment, he had been so sure she truly cared for her offspring. Only to have this impression blown away by the alacrity of her acceptance of his offered creds.

Worse had been his body's unbridled response to her proximity. Dormant for so long, it had required all of his formidable self control to refrain from seeking release in her lusciously curved body.

Where had that ferocious hunger come from? Could it be caused by the cycles of celibacy he'd endured? Up until now, he'd scoffed at any of his fellow warriors who had bragged about the potency of their Earth mates' ability to fire their senses. Even awakening the “pull”, that fabled almost mystical bonding of mate to mate.

He was a Traditionalist.

A warrior who followed the old teachings and scorned all need for any physical connection to anyone.

And yet her warm, faintly floral scent still filled his senses. The memory of her plump breasts and rounded bottom made his hands itch to hold and shape. Worse, his sex still throbbed painfully in a rigid arousal he had no hope of easing any time soon.

A vivid vision of her heart-shaped face, the contours of her lips and the velvety softness of her brown eyes floated in front of his eyes.

This is madness.
Ivo set his jaw.
I must be mistaken. This is the same female my brother bedded and who bore his seed. Unthinkable for me to take what had been his!

A snort of self-derision exploded from him. The baby in his arms lifted her head, her clear blue eyes wide with surprise, her bow of a mouth pursed closed.

Relief flooded him.

Mia scrunched up her face and returned to her blood curdling screams.

At least the youngling's yelling managed to reduce his body's craving to a more bearable ache.

Ivo marched closer to his compu and checked the time. A bare ten sectons had passed since the last moment he'd looked.

It was going to be a long wait until his shuttle was readied for departure. He shuddered at the horrifying prospect of the long journey to Darkos and having to listen to this terrible sound for rones without end. What if they were unable to get her to drink? How will the little one survive?

Mouth compressed, he stalked to the other end of the room, resisting the craven urge to thrust the crying baby into the Darkon female's arms and head in an uncharacteristic move towards a tankard of strong liquor. Mia was his responsibility now. Never would he turn his back on her like he had his sibling.

He about-turned and paced the length of the room again, but the memory of his last conversation with Neo snapped at his heels.

For he still recalled almost word perfect Neo's pleas for his understanding…for his support. But he had remained obdurate against his brother's questioning of their family's continued involvement in the Traditionalist movement.

Their last argument had been bitter and contained many words Ivo wished unspoken. If he had listened, been more willing to understand Neo's concerns then perhaps his brother would still be alive.

And he certainly would never then have crossed the path of that female from some far-flung, previously unknown planet.

Mia's shrieks reached a level of sound he had never heard before and Ivo ceased his restless pacing while he stared anxiously at the plexi-glass porthole.
Thank the stars! It remains intact.

Sweat trickled behind his neck as he realised his grip had tightened. He swiftly loosened his clasp and placed an awkward kiss to the top of the youngling's silky hair.

Then he froze.

Why on Cercis had he done such a thing?

Shaken, he swung away and patted her back with awkward strokes. Her heartrending sobs sliced into his hardened heart. Those two tear-drenched blue eyes gazed into his face with reproach. Shock punched him squarely in the gut as he recognised in their depths the bereft loneliness of an abandoned child.