“You’re right.” He pointed to the bot. “Turn your fucking orator function back on and watch my
hostage
.” He strode to the com panel. “Get in my way, and I’ll lock you in my quarters.”
Okay, so he wasn’t going to hurt her or toss her into outer space. Shon wasn’t a fool. She knew she’d been invited on board by the government to spin their propaganda. The ship was created to improve the Tri’Neith economy, to seek out diplomatic ties to other worlds, and increase trade and make life better for all.
She might still have the story she started with, but perhaps this man’s secrets were even more valuable.
“My name is Shon,” she said. And after several moments of silence, she hesitantly took a step closer.
The booty-bots hips swiveled as it positioned in front of her, ready to be of service. “Would you like a drink? I can get you something to eat.”
“No, thank you.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. What she wanted was information. Making her way around the command center, she inched closer to the man. His long, capable fingers glided over the control panel. “What is your name?”
He ignored her, intent on his work.
“If I’m stuck on the ship, and you’re not letting me go, then you should have nothing to fear by letting me know what in the hell is going on.”
“Tarik.”
“Huh?”
When he turned to her, she preferred the scowl he wore earlier than the devastating appeal of those lips smiling. “I’m called Tarik. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Shon, but we both know you’d rather be anywhere but here.”
“And you’d rather I be anywhere but here.”
“I can’t disagree with you.”
She cautiously approached and glanced over his shoulder at a control panel that made no sense to her. “So, what do you want with a diplomatic ship?” His silence made her continue. “I should think space pirates would want heavy armament? Weapons of war and mass destruction. Men like you are always looking for new ways to terrorize citizens.”
Tarik returned his hardened gaze to hers. “You know many men like me?”
Men like him? None. “Excuse me if I’ve insulted you. But people tend to assume men who steal government ships and keep hostages are also criminals that terrorize others.” Perhaps she shouldn’t antagonize him more. “Is there some other reason you do these things?”
“Yes.”
A single weighted word was spoken with conviction. Yes, he definitely had a story.
Shon hadn’t realized how tall and…thick he was. Muscles carved his upper body. His broad chest tapered to a trim stomach and lean hips. Black military-issued cargo pants encased his long legs, and he wore black boots.
“Are you military?”
“Are you sure you want to ask all these questions?” he asked in return, stepping around the console for a better angle on a display.
If she knew too much, maybe he’d never let her go, but a reporter’s instinct ignored those risks. “I’m your hos—
guest
for an indefinite amount of time. I think I have a right to know.”
He turned to lean against the control panel. “I think you’re a smart woman. My guess is you know exactly what kind of ship you’re on. My only concern is what the Tri’Neith planned to do with her?”
Maybe, with Tarik, she shouldn’t talk government. Changing the conversation, she said, “Why do men assign gender to their ships? A fem-bot. A female hos—guest. And a female ship. You took control of the vessel. Could it be that you don’t see females as a threat but only as property?”
“Are you a threat?”
“Is the ship?” If he wanted answers, he was going to have to give up some information, too.
“What do you think?”
His evasive barrage of counter questions frustrated her. “I think you’re nothing but a thief. Why steal a diplomatic vessel? It has no military value. Maybe you’ve taken the ship to sell to a collector on some remote planet.”
He pushed away from the console. “She is more valuable than you could possibly understand.”
Tarik didn’t sound like a common thief but rather, a driven man. She gripped his arm to stop him from leaving. “Make me understand.”
“Right now, I’d like to make you do a lot of things. But getting you to understand my purpose is not on the top of the list.”
She snapped her hand back.
“I don’t have time to explain anything, and it really doesn’t matter.” His voice became hard edged, cutting into her with a grave awareness. “You’ll be with me long enough to learn for yourself what this
diplomatic ship
is capable of.”
Shon realized men like Tarik didn’t deviate from their plan. Now she wouldn’t have to search for her story. She’d become part of it.
Chapter Two
How much time had passed? An hour? Two? She couldn’t be sure. Tarik had tuned her out, intent on his mission. Shon remained in the corner of the command center, watching him, trying to recount every move he made to memory. When opportunity presented itself she had to be ready.
Charred and blood-drenched, the fabric of Tarik’s shirt clung to his skin.
“You’re bleeding.”
Tarik glanced to his arm. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
She stepped closer. “It doesn’t look like just a flesh wound.” Now that she was close to him, the acrid smell of singed flesh and hair burned her nostrils. “This is serious.” How had she not noticed? Probably because he hadn’t favored his arm as he was pressing her against the ship. “It must hurt.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I’m not a medic, but even I can see you need a doctor.”
“And yet, we’re the only two on board.” He glanced to the corner. “And the booty-bot.”
Shon’s pulse sped up, partly from fear but mostly out of concern. He needed more medical attention than she could give, but she was his only option. “I’m sure you’ll survive, but seeing as I’m dependent on you to get us to our next port, I’d prefer you not bleed out.”
He chuckled.
“You think it’s funny now. If the wound becomes infected, I promise I won’t be as generous with my offer.” Blood she could handle. Gangrenous infection was another matter altogether.
“Good that I know your motivations are still self-serving.”
“I can’t imagine you expected me to care.”
“No, but I’m glad you don’t wish me dead…yet.” He twisted in the chair. “If you insist.”
Shon crinkled her nose as she knelt on the floor next to him. Up close, the wound looked worse. “I’m going to need supplies.”
“Tell the booty-bot.”
She puffed a breath. “At least she’ll be good for something productive. Does she have a name?”
“I suspect she’ll answer to anything you want to call her.”
“32D?”
Tarik laughed, a robust sound that caused a tickle to flutter in her belly. Shon spoke to the bot. “Take me to the infirmary.” She stood.
Tarik gripped her arm. “I don’t want you wandering about the ship.”
“Too bad. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you. But as you said yourself, I’m your guest not a hostage. You need medical attention, and I don’t know what supplies you have on board. 32D, let’s go.”
The booty-bot swiveled away from the corner. Shon cast a last glance at Tarik. “Don’t bleed out before I return.”
Shon hadn’t had much time to explore the ship before Tarik boarded and she’d had to hide. She wasn’t sure this was the right time either. 32D served the captain. And right now, the captain needed medical care more than she needed to discover the secrets of BioOne.
32D led her to the infirmary. Shon had been aboard many ships, but she’d never seen a triage area to rival the state of the art facility. “32D, I’ll need your help. I can clean a flesh wound and stitch him up.” But not if the flesh was beyond saving. “I need clean linen bandages, scissors, antibiotics, and a suture gun. I don’t know how bad the burns are.” She threw open drawers. “I need something to treat them. H2O regeneration gel can repair burned flesh.”
Shon’s fingers brushed a small metallic packet. She glanced over her shoulder at the fem-bot. “See if there are any neuron blockers for pain in those cabinets?” Because she had a different purpose for these little packets. She clutched two in her fist.
With the supplies, she hoped she could patch Tarik together enough until he could get real medical attention. That is if she could get him to see reason and take them to the nearest spaceport. If he couldn’t be reasoned with—she glanced to the packets—she’d found a way to take matters into her own hands. She could somehow get word to the authorities. What would she tell them? She could contact Darcolm. He’d know what to do. If she played along with Tarik, to get the story, at least Darcolm would know where she was.
Something in Tarik’s determination and the fact that he hadn’t hurt her, hadn’t made demands and appeared not to have diminished capacity for reasoning, gave her an uncertain quiver in her stomach. Yet, the hairs on the back of her neck tingled. She had interviewed captives in desolate prisons in the farthest reaches of space. Warped ideas made crazed men do crazed acts. Tarik didn’t fit that profile. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t in trouble.
Minutes later, she approached the command center, and the auto door slid open. Tarik’s fingers furiously rolled over the control panel as he talked to himself. “Watch for signatures. No, we won’t encounter patrols. Attack will come from Tri’Neith. They will pursue. You’re too valuable to them. Not to worry. I won’t let you fall into their hands again. You’re more valuable to me.”
Or maybe he was talking to someone. How could he be more valuable to himself? “Who are you talking to?”
Tarik lifted his gaze to hers. “Do you think you’ll need all that?” he asked, referencing her arms laden with supplies. “It’s only a flesh wound.”
She dropped the supplies next to the captain’s chair. “You’re a…” She thought for the right word. Traitor would be the correct term, but she doubted he’d appreciate the comparison. “I wanted to be prepared. Sit down.” She indicated the chair.
Tarik stiffened, refusing to sit.
“What? Are you not used to taking orders?”
“No, not anymore.”
She rolled her eyes. “So we both understand, I’m not used to having to ask for cooperation. Since we’re both out of our usual roles, would you please sit down so I can strip you out of your clothes?” With her words, heat raced into her cheeks.
“When you put it like that,” he said, crossing the room, “how could I resist?”
Tarik sat in the captain’s chair, and Shon knelt on the floor beside him. The metallic stench of blood burned her nostrils. Thick, blood-soaked fabric clung to his formed muscles. She wrinkled her nose and gingerly picked at the edge of the stiffening fabric. “It’s going to hurt.” She grabbed the sharp medical shears.
Tarik grasped her wrist. “What are you doing with those?”
Light glinted off the long blades with a piercing tip.
“I’m going to stab you to death, take the ship, and wander through space until I’m either rescued or die.” She smiled. “I’m going to cut your shirt. I need to get to the wound.”
He slowly released her wrist. “Don’t try anything. I can break your arm with one snap.”
“We should have treated you as soon as we were out of spaceport.” She motioned to the booty-bot. “I found neuron blockers.”
“No. No blockers.”
Shon arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those types who enjoys pain.”
“Pain keeps me alert.”
“Let me know when you need a pick-me-up.” She grinned as she carefully slipped the blade of the shears beneath the fabric. “Maybe you
should
worry I’ll use the scissors as a weapon,” she said with a teasing tone. Anything to keep his attention off his injury, the pain that had to be ripping through his arm as she gently tugged the singed and bloody fabric away from the burns.
Shon couldn’t help but notice the scars covering Tarik’s torso. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “What happened?”
Tarik didn’t speak. His posture stiffened. At least he wasn’t pretending not to understand her question.
She sighed and poured H2O gel over his wound. “If you don’t want to talk about you, then tell me about our mission.”
“
Our
mission. You’re my hostage.”
“Guest.” She smiled and carefully dabbed at the burned flesh. The damage wasn’t deep. She could do this. “We’re the only two people on board, so I should know our mission. Although—” Picking up the suture gun, she placed it against the flesh, pinching the singed edges together. She closed her eyes and set the first suture into place. “I think you’re going to live.” After setting several stitches, she was finished and wrapped a gauze bandage around the wound.
He glanced at his arm. “Looks good. You make a good field medic.”
“Shows how much you know about me. I almost threw up.” She sat back on her haunches. “You should rest.”
“Not yet. Not until we’re safe.” He stood and strode to the com panel. Muscles flexed in his broad shoulders and tapered torso, but blood still smeared his flesh.
“Safe from whom? The Tri’Neith? I don’t think they’ll give up that easily.”
“You’re right. But BioOne will keep us safe enough until we make our rendezvous.”
“And when will that be?”
“A couple weeks?”
Weeks?
Weeks with a pirate who scared her as much as he intrigued her. She folded her hands in her lap. “Is that when you’ll let me go?”
“I haven’t decided
if
I’ll let you go.”
****
Fuck. He needed sleep, and he needed to eat. Hours had passed while Tarik ran through checks on BioOne. Through it all, his thoughts continued to revolve around Shon. Scenarios played through his mind, contingencies and repercussions should he risk involving her. None ended well. She was too appealing, too inquisitive and too dangerous to the long-term viability of BioOne. The outcome wouldn’t be good for him either.
Shon sat in the captain’s chair, the damn body suit hugging every one of her seductive curves. She had drifted off to sleep a few times. Now, she watched him. Nipples prodded against the tight fabric. She’d lowered the zipper, revealing a teasing amount of cleavage. He didn’t think it intentional, but she was distracting the hell out of him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, turning in her direction. “I’m starving.”