Taming the Wildcat (Sargosian Chronicles) (11 page)

He blinked, the small expression the only indication of surprise he gave. The Ninth Twelfth was the unit his son led. Why they were contacting him here, he didn't know. Roz had his personal codes, could contact him at any time. In fact, he’d meant to make that call himself. Find out if his blond-haired son knew anything about a young pilot named Summer King.

"I'll take it in my office. Route it through. Keep the comms open out here," he ordered, rising from his chair and resisting the urge to leap over the separating barrier, rather than walk around. Something was wrong, he felt it in his blood.

"Roz, this had better be good." His voice was gruff as he reached his desk and wrenched the console around. But the face on the screen wasn't that of his eldest son.

"Talk. Now," he ordered, knowing full well he outranked the warrior looking at him with an expression of “oh, crap” and “I do not want to be here” written on his face.

"Jei here. I'm Roz's second-in-command. We got trouble." The dark-haired warrior grimaced and rubbed a tattooed hand over his stubbled jaw. "Roz has gone loco, and…sorry, Lead, we don't know what to do with him."

"Loco?" Saarday shook his head. Roz was hot-headed, yes, but not seriously bat-shit. He shook his head, aware of what was going on outside on the bridge. "No, don't explain. I don't have time at the moment. Just get him here and I'll deal with him."

The look of relief on Jei's face was immediate. "Yes, Lead. ETA, three hours.”

Diplomats.

Summer was sick of ferrying them back and forth between planets. Why didn’t they just keep their fat asses on the planet where the trade conference was being held? It made more sense and didn’t waste valuable Fleet resources in personnel, fuel and wear and tear on the ships. But no…they insisted on returning to their own planet each day.

Heaving another bored sigh, she checked her squadron’s formation around the shuttle. Nice and tight, just the way she liked them. She had four fighters each side of the shuttle, front and back. Nothing would get past them. Summer flew shotgun to keep mobile and watch for any trouble. One fighter flew point and another brought up the rear. Massive overkill, but the diplomats were paranoid and insisted on a full detail of fighters.

Shaking her head, she smoothly changed positions so that she dropped back to fly off the rearguard’s port side. If they insisted on doing this same tedious routine each day, they could have at least followed her recommendation on method of transport. The shuttle was fine and dandy but the snail’s pace was killing her, or drive her nuts. They could get out and push faster.

“Spoiled, pansy-assed diplomats.” Over her headset, she heard snickers and laughter from the men and women she now commanded.

It still shocked her that Commander Vann had not only let her stay aboard, but that he had made her Air Group Commander of the fighter wing onboard. Especially after her horrifying, emotional outburst. Perhaps he judged her on how she had been before that, which would make more sense. No one wanted a crazy, emotionally compromised woman commanding anything, let alone a squadron of fighter pilots. Hell, they were crazy enough as it was. No need to add emotions into the mix.

“I heard that, King,” came a low, gravelly voice over her comms. Oops. She sometimes forgot “Big Brother” kept the lines open on the bridge for all of the fighters and shuttles.

“Stop eavesdropping. Then you won’t hear things you don’t like,” she quipped back.

The comm crackled again, and what sounded very much like, “Bloody smart-mouthed women pilots,” came back at her.

She was sorely tempted to ask him to repeat himself, but decided against it. She took too many liberties in the way she spoke to him, both on and off duty. For the most part she remained professional and respectful to him on duty, as she didn’t want others thinking of it as being acceptable to mouth off to the commander of the ship. However, it was just part of who she was. A smartass. Though, she didn’t bother teasing people she didn’t care about or didn’t like.

Beep-Beep-Beep…

Summer looked down at her onboard radar. The fighter’s scanners had picked up a good-sized vessel heading straight for the Pendragon. For a split second, fear hit deep in the pit of her stomach. Flashbacks of past events ran through her mind. Calling out to her squad, she peeled off to investigate.

“Knights, we’ve got an unknown vessel inbound and on a direct course that will intersect with the Pendragon. Tighten up and stay on task with the package. Proceed with escort, but keep your eyes and ears open. Knight One, leaving formation.”

She knew not to panic. If there were any sort of problem, they would have received word from the ‘Dragon already.

“Pendragon, this is Phoenix. I’ve got an inbound craft showing on my radar that no one made me aware of. It’s not a Fleet Ident code, and my computer isn’t pulling up the registry. Is this a friendly that is expected, or should I turn them away like an unwanted salesman? Over.” She waited for a response, but still moved at a fast clip to try to intercept the ship before it got to the Pendragon.

“Shit!” she cursed out loud. They had approached on her blind side from behind the bigger ship. By doing that, there was no way she’d be able to cut them off before they hit the ship she now called “home.”

The hanger doors to the shuttle bay opened, so that meant they had clearance, but no one had bothered to respond to her call for confirmation on the identification of the transport.

“Phoenix, inbound is a friendly. Resume escort,” finally came the answer. Not Vann, but a communications officer.

It was too late for her to rejoin the escort detail. Her gaze locked onto the side of the transport ship. She knew it by not only its sleek shape, but by the identification on the side. It couldn’t get any plainer. Boldly painted on the side were the words, “9th/12th Wildcats.”

She thought her heart would burst from her chest. Screw the escort detail. Hanson could manage the rest of it.

“Hanson, this is King. You’ve got command of the rest of the escort detail. I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be. King out.”

She hit the thrusters on her fighter and made a beeline for the shuttle bay. Light speed couldn’t get her there fast enough. She came in hot, sending flight deck mechanics and crew members diving for safety. Curses were shouted at her so loud she heard them over the roar of her bird’s engines.

Her gaze darted around until she saw the Wildcat’s sleek ship tucked neatly in the back of the hanger. Bypassing all the fighter bay slots, she flew directly to the back and touched down right next to the mercenary ship’s front end.

The roar of her engines and the commotion she caused in the shuttle bay had several of the Wildcats rushing out of the ship. They were ready for trouble, but restrained, as if unwilling to open fire in the bay on a Fleet ship.

Initiating a rapid shut down of the fighter’s engines and all systems, Summer dragged the helmet off her head and shoved the canopy open when it didn’t open fast enough. Vaulting out of the cockpit, she hit the deck plating at a run, heading toward the tall warriors who had come out to see what all the ruckus was about.

Elation at seeing “Her Boys” again put a huge smile on her face, but she looked for the one warrior she couldn’t see. Roz. Most looked at her as if they had seen a ghost, mouths hanging open, shock on their faces.

Dread clawed at her. They heard about the Tipton and they thought that she was dead.
Roz
thought she was dead. Hands extended out to touch her as she stopped to stand before Jei. She reached for him, and at the same time, he engulfed her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet as she returned his embrace.

“Where is he? Where’s Roz?” she managed to get out, even though she could barely breathe.

Jei finally set her down. Lifting one heavily-tattooed, muscled arm he pointed to the lift. “That way. He went to s—”

She didn’t wait for him to finish. She just ran like the wind, sending people scurrying out of her way. He was here. Roz was here! She hit the lift so fast she had to catch herself with her hands to prevent from splattering against the back wall. Jei called after her that Roz had gone to the bridge, so that’s where she headed.

“Roz. I’m coming, Angel.”

* * *

He had a hangover and a bad attitude. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. He’d only had the hangover since this morning. The bad attitude was a permanent fixture. Roz scowled as he leaned against the back of the lift as it took him up to the command deck of the Pendragon. He wouldn’t have it for long, though.

As soon as he got back to the ship, he planned on getting up close and personal with a few bottles of cheap Altasian whiskey he’d picked up. The stuff could double as engine degreaser, so it should tide him over. Keep him safely unconscious until they were ready to ship out again.

The doors opened in front of him and he pushed off the wall. Arms loose by his side, he swaggered onto the bridge and scowled around. Fleet officers. Most of them were poncy-assed idiots who couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.

A couple of them looked back and then quickly looked away again. Roz snorted in derision. They wouldn’t look back, not unless they were really brave. The Wildcats had a reputation within the Fleet, and the Ninth Twelfth were the worst of all. He had no doubt they were all aware that a ‘Cat ship had come in, but even without that knowledge, one look at him in black on black combats with the heavy non-Fleet pistol on his hip would be enough to tip them off.

Running a hand through his scruffy, blond hair, he strolled across the bridge and knocked on the door to the Ship Commander’s office.

“Come in,” a deep male voice announced, so, Roz pushed the door open. He nodded to the tall man just rising from behind the desk.

“Hello, Dad. You hollered?”

* * *

Summer didn’t sit about eating bon-bons in her down time. She also worked out, sparred with others in the ship’s practice ring and she ran. She didn’t jog, she was a runner. She pounded the decks, or the treadmill, with a vengeance, and as a result, she was lean and sleekly muscled. Right now, all those muscles burned as she ran as fast as she could through the corridors to get to the bridge.

Where the hell had all these people come from? Shouldn’t they be on duty somewhere?
Irritation filled her as she dodged and wove her way through the uncooperative crew. Some heard her coming and stepped out of the way, pressing up against the walls to give her plenty of room.

Reaching back as she ran, she pulled the elastic out of the end of her long braid. She groaned as she looked ahead and spotted the bottleneck outside the mess hall. Taking the few moments she was forced to squeeze her way through the press of bodies, she pulled the plaited sections loose. Her hair had still been damp when she had braided it, so it smelled fresh, clean and of floral scented shampoo and conditioner.

Finally, she broke clear to the other side and started her mad dash again. Coming to another lift, she almost screamed in frustration at the gaggle of gossiping women who blocked her path. When the doors slid open, she crammed herself into the small space. She wasn’t going to wait around for another lift. Riding up in it with them chattering would be a small price to pay to finally see him again.

The topic that was being discussed by the gaggle of geese? Saarday Vann and his hot body. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. If he heard about this, he’d puff up and get even cockier about his looks. Then again, if his fiancée heard about it, she’d probably make a few rounds, and the loose talk about the commander’s tight ass would stop.

She snickered—that was something she’d pay to see. With a hiss, the doors slid open again and she lunged out into the command center. The hub of all decisions made on the Pendragon.

“
Roz! Angelis! Taren!
You get your sorry ass back in here!”

The bellow rang across the bridge as Summer emerged onto it. The fact her commanding officer, a man she’d rarely seen angry let alone mad enough to lose it, paled into insignificance against the figure stalking toward her.

Roz. Her angel.

He hadn’t seen her yet, turning over his shoulder to shout. “You know what, Dad? Screw you!”

Part of her brain heard him call Saarday “Dad,” the same part that heard him yell right back at her CO. She heard it, but it didn’t register. She only saw Roz. She went from a shocked, frozen standstill to hurtling rocket in the blink of an eye. He never saw her coming.

She didn’t see the same thing she knew everyone else on the bridge saw when they looked at him. They saw the dangerous mercenary. All she saw was the man she loved.

Colliding into him with a thud, her body hit his, hard enough to knock him backward. She hadn’t given a single thought to her safety, or possibly what state of mind he might be in. Throwing her arms around his waist, she wrapped him up the way her brothers had shown her all those years ago. She had learned well. Locking her arms around him, she held on for dear life, not caring if they ended up in a heap on the deck plating in front of everyone.

Knocking him off his feet, they went down hard in a tangle of limbs and her loose hair. In a replay of that first kiss in the alley back on the base, he twisted like a cat, taking the brunt of the fall as she sprawled over him.

Instantly, his hands were in her hair, pushing the tumbling mass back so he could get a look at her face. His expression was a cross between elation and shock, his skin white, as if he’d seen a ghost. His next words bore that suspicion out.

“Summer? How? You’re dead. You were dead. The Tipton—I saw it.” He paused as though he’d run out of words. With a groan, he dragged her lips to his and kissed her as if he weren’t lying on the deck plating of a Fleet warship in front of everyone.

Kissing him with everything she had kept locked inside her, she didn’t hold anything back. With a whimper, she angled her head so she could deepen their kiss. The wet slide of his tongue against hers made her shudder. His stubble scraped the soft skin on her face, but she didn’t care. He was finally back in her arms where he belonged.