Jagger managed to put himself between the Ithians and Ket, alarmed by their sudden aggression. “What in Hades are ya doin’?” he cried, with a quick glance at their discarded drive helmets that had been kicked to the side of the corridor.
“Responding to your trickery,” Rinn replied coldly. “You’re pretending to call the animal while in truth commanding it to hide. In the LaGuardian tongue. Quite suspicious.” He leaned lower to get in Jagger’s face. “Since neither of you look LaGuardian and we’re on the hunt for a LaGuardian bio-product called a StarDog.”
“Berra’s the name the cat-thing came with. What’s this…” Jagger locked down any reaction and put on his best clueless face. “WhatDog?”
“StarDog,” Rinn answered.
“Look all ya want, ya bozers,” Jagger said through clenched teeth. “Ya’ll only find the cat-thing. But take the gigadam ’straints off us, now!”
“Of course. Pram, you can remove their restraints…”
One of his underlings scowled darkly.
“…once they’re locked in a detention cell on our vessel.”
“What? You’re not takin’ us off our ship, ya bleakers!” Jagger yelled, maneuvering to wrap his fingers around Ketsia’s wrist. This had disaster written all over it, and he wouldn’t allow these thugs to separate them.
Rinn loomed over him, sour-faced and hard-eyed. “You’d be best advised to cooperate fully.” His eyes cut to Ket for a quick, appreciative assessment. “For both of your sakes. Do you get my meaning?”
Jagger froze, understanding his threat only too well. “I get ya.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve reached this understanding.” Rinn turned to stride away with a quick jerk of his thumb. “Take them.”
Their cell was cramped and spartan, with just a bare mattress on the floor and a head with a wash basin and no privacy, save for a waist-high partition. This wasn’t going to be easy on Ketsia. Pretending to be married as a cover and having to act out the role before observers were two very different things.
Jagger turned to her and gathered her into his arms. She momentarily went rigid then eased against him when he whispered close to her ear, “You okay?”
“Terrific,” she answered with a cynical huff. Hearing her utter one of Jaeo Gant’s pet phrases almost made him smile. Almost.
Jagger tilted his head, pretending to nuzzle her hair. “You did great.”
His reaction to the brush of her lips against his cheek was all kinds of disturbing in their present predicament. As was his brief musing on just how far they’d have to take this marital farce.
“Thanks for that,” she answered.
He leaned her back so he could look into her eyes, before pulling her near to bury his mouth in the silky cascade of her hair. “Why do they want Luna?”
Ketsia slid her hand around his waist and up his back as she pressed closer. Damn! That move must’ve looked very convincing on their captor’s surv-cam. At least, his body seemed to think so, even when his head knew differently.
“She’s a courier,” Ketsia breathed.
Wait! Luna was some sort of messenger, and no one had thought to bring him up to speed on this before now?
Including Ketsia?
Jagger skimmed his lips along her cheek until he reached her mouth. Then he pressed forward, exacting a subtle revenge for her nondisclosure. Ketsia sucked in a silent, trembling breath when he took her lower lip gently between this teeth. “For who?”
“Jaeo.”
Luna was carrying a communiqué for Ambassador Gant? And using him to deliver it? Without his knowledge? This mission was sinking to a whole new level of sucker punch.
Haley’s Crest. What kind of a friend was Gant?
“Nice surprise.” Jagger exhaled, easing back until she could see the fury arcing behind his eyes.
“Sorry,” she mouthed.
He nodded, very slightly. Not an acceptance of the apology, only an acknowledgement of her duplicity.
He released her, slowly turning away to park his hands on his hips and study the details of their cell. It was a clear message to Ketsia that he wasn’t pleased, but it carried another purpose. His captors would expect this inspection. He meant to play his role well.
Solid bars held them, not a detainment beam. That might be a good thing. Bars could be breached, force beams not so much. They were in an end cell in a bank of four with an open viewing area surrounding the quad. And they were the only prisoners. Also useful.
He spied the lens reflection of the overhead surv-cam parked in the ceiling above their cell, no doubt rigged for sound. There appeared to be just the one and not multiple devices, probably because their cell had served as a brig for wayward crewmen rather than actual prisoners. Fortunately, a single spy-eye was easier to deal with.
Across from their cell, a ventilation screen set into the lower wall of the open space looked like a promising option at first glance, but not for him. Ket might be able to squeeze through that space if she were athletic enough.
Jagger’s gaze cut her way, and he swallowed hard around that thought. He’d bet she was athletic as Hades with that trim, supple body. When their eyes connected, Jagger quickly looked away.
If the Ithians held them long, they’d soon be sharing that tiny bed to keep up appearances. If this was the live or die situation it was shaping up to be, they might be forced to act the part of a mated pair.
Certainly not the hardest thing he’d ever done for the sake of duty, but he was only half of the equation.
How would Ket feel about her role?
Cross that abyss when you reach it.
Right now, there were about forty million other details he needed to be focusing on.
Their cell—all of six footspans by eight footspans—had barely enough room to move around each other without becoming dance partners, and not nearly enough to hold a grudge. Especially when Ket kept watching him with those long-lashed dusky eyes of hers.
Eyes that conveyed she was clearly both worried and sorry for the nondisclosure regarding Luna.
And it certainly worked. After just one of her long, poignant looks, he was over being angry.
Jagger spent the next few haras pondering what information the StarDog could be carrying that was so gigadam important that the Ithians had learned of it and wanted to intercept it. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe the less informed, the better. Especially if the Ithians got desperate enough to resort to some of their more inventive tortures.
Hades.
He could take it. He had the training and techniques to overcome all but the worst of what these rogues could dish out. But he couldn’t let them zero in on Ketsia. Or use her body as a means to make him talk.
That was where the dread lay for him. Because there was no denying it: sometime in the last few days, Ketsia had become more than just his mission. And he wasn’t keen on exploring how much more she meant to him if the Ithians unleashed their diabolical imaginations on her.
He’d do everything in his power to prevent that. For starters, he didn’t intend to let Ketsia out of his sight, even for a moment.
His wandering gaze strayed to the narrow bed again, where she’d stretched out to rest. The worn gray jumpsuit followed every delectable hollow and rise of her lissome body like a cozy second skin. His hands twitched, and he curled his fingers tight until his fingernails dug into his palms.
He’d have thought being imprisoned by rogue Ithians who suspected him of harboring a bio-engineered spy would be enough to keep his mind centered on escape and survival. But one glance at his comely cellmate, and his concentration seemed to vanish like the dawn mists on Veros.
Some brands of torture were self-inflicted.
After losing the battle to keep his attention averted elsewhere, Jagger’s legs went on auto-pilot, moving him to stand over Ketsia before lowering him to sit on the edge of the mattress at her side. His gaze settled softly on her face.
“Tired?” he asked. Really? In the history of
the universe, had anyone ever asked a more stupid question?
“Yeah,” she replied. “You?”
He skirted a potential invitation to join her. So not appropriate. “Not yet.” He reached out to graze his thumb lightly across her cheek. Just playing the part, he told himself, to which himself answered, You’re an asshole.
Guilty as charged.
But he’d thought he’d cured himself of that brand of assholedom when he’d evolved into a military space monk. He’d successfully weaned himself of the need for women entirely. Relegated such inconsequential urges squarely to the realm of his past.
And then along came Ketsia...
And now this tiny little cell to share with her.
So much for self-discipline.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“Trying to figure our options,” he lied.
“Any luck?”
“Not so far.”
“Then why don’t you rest.” She scooted to the far side of the mattress, making as much room for him as possible. Even with the added inch or so, it meant they’d end up locked in a horizontal embrace. In bed.
Not happening.
Jagger lurched to his feet. “You rest,” he croaked. “I’m going to keep working ideas.” Which were exactly nil—but the thought of sleeping beside Ketsia was more than his short-circuiting self-discipline could handle right now.
Pride goeth before a fall?
Shut up, Jagger.
Eight
The sharp clank of metal on metal brought Jagger to full alert.
A giant stood just outside their cell—the one who went by the name of Pram—holding a square tray in each hand.
“Lovers’ spat?” the Ithian asked, his gaze moving from the spot where Jagger had propped himself against the cold cell bars to linger on Ketsia where she lay curled up on the bed.
“No, ya bleeker.” Jagger pushed off the floor and went to Ketsia’s side, extending his hand to help her up. “The rack’s so small, we need to take turns durin’ the night.”
The man ogled Ketsia as she brushed the wrinkles from her flightsuit. “Who wouldn’t want a turn?”
Ketsia’s head snapped up.
“Want to lose your tongue?” Jagger spat, his rage far from staged…and unfortunately, his accent far from freighter-esque.
The Ithian didn’t notice. “Mind yourself, Spacerat. You’re already living on borrowed time.”
“What’s your meaning?”
“We find that SpaceDog on your ship, and you won’t be leaving this plane alive, you cocky little Cardi,” the Ithian barked.
So they hadn’t found Luna yet. Thank Hades.
“But then again, we don’t find a SpaceDog, and you still may not be leaving alive. You nor your mate, though I’m guessing she’d outlive you...” His lips parted in a grotesque smile. “…by a couple of days, at least.”
Jagger made a threatening move toward the man. “You can park those eyes elsewhere, ya palie…or risk having them join your tongue.”
The Ithian tsked. “Better not push your luck with idle threats, little Studman.”
“We ain’t the ones doin’ the pushin’, now are we?” Jagger fired back. He didn’t like the leer the man laid on Ketsia. There was no question what the Ithian had on his mind.
“I brought food. If you want to eat, step to the back of your cell.”
They did as instructed, Ketsia reaching out to snag and clutch Jagger’s hand in her own. She was shaking—though whether from anger or fear, he wasn’t sure.
The Ithian flipped up the access at the bottom of the bars and slid the trays across the floor into their cell. “It’s nothing fancy.” His gaze lingered on Ketsia again. “I can imagine much tastier fare.”
She gave Pram a defiant glower. “Don’t care much for your manners. Wonderin’ if a short chat with your superior would cure that?”
The man physically recoiled as if Ket had sunk a poisoned dart in his heel.
At least the Ithian leader, Rinn, had an air of respectability, and it seemed this Pram feared him. That could work to their advantage later.
If they had a later.
“I’ll be back,” Pram said in a gravelly voice that sounded more threatening than informative. “Mind yourselves.” He left the containment area. Jagger sensed the tension leave Ket’s body as soon as the bastard had stepped out of sight and closed the seal behind him.
They settled side-by-side on the mattress with legs crossed and the trays in their laps. Jagger ate the few mouthfuls of tasteless gruel that had been slopped onto the trays. Nothing fancy had been a gross understatement. If they were detained for any length of time, they were likely to starve to death.
Once they’d finished, Jagger gathered up the empties and tried to push them back out the access, but it only opened one way—inward. No way Ket would be wriggling through there if an opportunity for escape arose. He angled the trays through the cell bars and let them drop to the floor outside with a clatter.
Ketsia took one of his hands in both of hers. “Lie with me, Dallan.”
His head and his thoughts swiveled back to her. “What?”
“You need rest. Trying to sleep with a row of bars at your back isn’t going to keep you sharp.”
He gave her a slow, half-hearted smile. “Lying with you isn’t likely to do that either.”
She ducked her head then met his eyes again. “Was that a compliment?”
Jagger went still, wiping all expression from his face. “Maybe a warning.”
Her dark eyes shone with a quiet, black fire, and she answered in her Adey voice, “You don’t scare me, Spacer.” She leaned closer so the Ithians couldn’t eavesdrop on her addendum, speaking low and slow directly into his ear. “We need to talk.” She motioned toward the bed.
Jagger stiffly acquiesced, easing onto the stale mattress and wrapping his arms around Ketsia when she cozied up to him. She made it look convincing for the Ithians—trailing her fingertips over his parted lips, drawing her hand down his chest, brushing the tip of her nose against his cheek. Maybe a bit too convincing. “I need to explain.”
“Listening.” Hades, it wasn’t just the Ithians who were being persuaded. His heart kicked hard in his chest, and his blood made a frantic detour south. When she pressed her lips to his, he pressed back.
She responded, moving into him, accepting the demands of his mouth. He lost himself in the heat of the moment. Couldn’t break free of the spell, couldn’t stop himself from angling his head and taking the warmth and sweetness she offered him.
Desire flared, breaking free of containment, peppering his blood with primal want and hot-blooded need. He ensnared her in his arms, drawing her tight to his chest, moving his hands to mold and possess her. Wanting to own every part of her.
Gigadam, this wasn’t the time or place to consider breaking his vow of celibacy. Not here. Not now. And certainly not with her. What the Hades was he thinking? He eased away from her on the mattress, disentangling his arms.
She closed her fist on his flightsuit collar, drawing him back. She leaned forward to press her mouth into the space between his cheek and the mattress and whispered, “What Luna’s carrying…”
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on her words, not her actions. “Yeah?”
She kissed his cheek. “Intercepted comms.” Her lips brushed his right eyelid. “…the rogues…” She shifted to his left lid. “…are organizing.”
Jagger ran his hand languidly down her side, held her gaze, and nodded. If her cryptic words meant what he thought they did, Luna was smuggling information that could indict these Alliance holdouts as dangerous cells. It would give Carduwa and a host of House of Planets allies the legal grounds to enter the Rift to pursue and capture these Ithian rogues so they could be brought to trial for their plotting.
And if Rinn and his crew had gotten intel that a StarDog would be their undoing…
That explained why the Ithians had doubled back. They must
’ve detected Luna’s presence during their first encounter, begged off as an innocent cargo ship, then returned with their mothership to seize the Sheeban and determine if she was, in fact, carrying the StarDog they were looking for.
And if they found Luna aboard…
There could be only one outcome for the two of them. For the three of them. Execution.
The assault on Ketsia’s hired yacht wasn’t at all what he’d been led to believe. It wasn’t Ketsia who’d drawn their fire. It was the information Luna carried. This was clearly a politically-backed operation, and Jaeo was no doubt in it up to his elbows. But how could the man have put Ketsia in harm’s way?
He was trusting you to make sure that didn’t happen.
Ketsia met his eyes, her mouth forming a question when a loud clank sounded in the quiet.
They both jumped and scrambled to their feet when the seal opened, and Pram stepped through into the observation area.
“Shower time for the prisoners,” he announced, his face breaking into a hideous sneer. “Choice is yours. Take them together…” He ogled Ketsia. “Or separately.”
Before Jagger found the wits to respond, Ketsia stepped forward. “Together,” she answered boldly. “I’m not lettin’ him out of my sight for a secta with you miscreants about.”
She interwove her fingers with his and gave him a cocky tip of her head.
The girl had brass.
Beautiful, entrancing…and gutsier than he’d given her credit for. Definitely his kind of girl.
And that was when Jagger realized just how lost he truly was.
Because, Hades help him, he might just be falling for her.
Nine
Jagger moved his hands to the neck of Ketsia’s jumpsuit and undid the catches, peeling the fabric down to expose her bare shoulders and the deep V of cleavage between her breasts. There he stopped. He couldn’t finish. He’d be damned if he’d strip her naked in front of this salivating bastard, Pram.