“Don’t make me have to kill you,” she said softly into his ear. “We have a truce, remember? Let’s focus on the business at hand…”
She ran her arms down his back, and then gripped his butt firmly, squeezing him and pulling him close.
Then she kissed him and he felt himself melting. He knew the more he let himself go, the more likely it was she’d turn on him and kill him.
Somehow that didn’t bother him, though. That little bit of danger, that touch of excitement, only added to her appeal.
He grinned when her legs came up around his waist. So much for restraining her . Her entire body was nothing but smooth, sleek muscle. She took good care of herself, far better care than most dancers. He should have known there was something different about her from the start… Of course, he had known, he thought wryly. He just hadn’t known how different she was.
His door pinged, and he gritted his teeth. He’d told them to leave him alone except for emergencies.
“Go away,” he said gruffly, but the door pinged again. It must be important.
She cocked an eyebrow at him as he stood. He strode over the door impatiently, slapping at the control to open it. His second, Everand, stood outside, face tense.
“We need you in the aft cargo hold,” he said without bothering to apologize. “It’s serious.”
Damian nodded tightly, and turned back toward his assassin. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to tie me up again?” she asked languidly, eyes flickering past him to take in Everand’s tight face.
“Would they hold you?” he asked, his mouth quirking.
“No,” she replied shortly. “It’s more for form than anything.”
“Sir,” Everand said softly, but Damian raised a hand, cutting him off.
“Let’s go,” he said, moving through the door. “What’s the problem?”
“It seems that the we have some unstable materials mixed in with the textiles,” Everand started to explain. “Karoli found them on a routine inspection. We’re damned lucky the whole thing hasn’t blown before now…”
* * * * *
Cybele watched Damian leave, noting the red light that flickered to life above the door as he sealed it.
He was lucky such a seal couldn’t hold her prisoner, she thought. He might be tough enough to out-fight her, but clearly his nature was too trusting. She had no idea how he’d survived so long.
She rose to her feet, looking about the cabin for something she could use as a weapon. She didn’t bother worrying about her tattered clothing. Damian had no female crewmembers; she’d stand out no matter what she wore. She’d have to make her escape without anyone seeing her or she’d have to kill them. No need to complicate things.
Her mouth twisted in amusement as she looked through his drawers, noting how untidy they were. In some ways, men were all the same. She found a small, antique mirror there, the kind made from glass.
Why he had such a silly thing she couldn’t imagine, but it would serve her purpose. She broke it neatly against the corner of a drawer, then wrapped a scrap of fabric securely around one end. Not pretty, but it made a serviceable enough knife, and the heft would work for throwing.
She had the door open within seconds, slipping down the corridor silently. She was familiar with the ship’s design, had studied it extensively before planning her attack on him. The aft cargo hold would be easy enough to find. Everand had been a fool to let their destination slip out in front of her.
Neutralizing the target would be simple.
She crept down the hallways, always listening for others, but still moving quickly. No time for hesitation, no time for doubt. She had work to do.
The aft cargo hold door was locked, but opening it was as easy as opening the seal on Damian’s cabin had been. Too trusting, she thought once more. Didn’t the man have any sense? How could he expect to survive with such lax security?
He couldn’t,she thought in dark disgust.
The door slid open, revealing Damian and Everand just a few meters away, hunched over a diagnostic handset. Everand turned and stepped away from Damian in surprise. Then his eyes caught hers. He gasped.
Damian spun around, seeing her, and she raised the primitive knife. Everand reached down to his belt, reaching for a blaster a blaster. Instinct took over.
Raising the knife high, she gave a powerful cry and leaped toward the men. Her body hit Damian’s with enough force to knock him back into the piles of textiles. His eyes held betrayal and sadness, but she ignored his pain. Nothing mattered at that moment but the target.
She threw the awkward knife, wishing desperately that she had a weapon with better balance, but it was good enough. It caught Everand in the throat and he dropped, the blaster firing up at the ceiling as he went down. She turned to Damian.
He seemed stunned, his face filled with betrayal, and without thinking she slapped him right across the face. His instincts didn’t extend to protecting himself from his own crewmen, she realized.
“Get over it,” she said tightly. “He was going to kill you, you dolt. I had to stop him.”
He blinked his eyes, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Everand, your trusty second,” she said. “He was my client. He hired me to kill you, although I have no idea why.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked softly.
“Because I didn’t know he was on the ship with us until I saw him,” she replied. “The idiot hired me in person. I knew as soon as I saw him that he’d have to kill you himself, before you found out he was my client.”
“You saved my life,” he said quietly, and she shook her head. For such an intelligent man, he didn’t seem to be grasping the situation very quickly.
“Of course I did,” she said, eyes narrowing. “I’m not done with you yet. You’ve got no idea how to take care of yourself, your security is pathetic. It’ll probably take me weeks just to go through your logs and make sure Everand didn’t have any help on board. After all, he’s not the one who led you to the club. We have to learn if the other men were in on the plot.”
He looked at her, utterly confused, and she rolled her eyes.
“I’ve made a decision, Damian,” she said. “I’m keeping you. You’ve got a lot to learn, but you’re still more of a man than anyone I’ve ever met. We belong together.”
He burst out laughing, and reached one hand up toward her. She pulled him up lightly, grinned at him and leaned forward to kiss him. Lust hit her again, and for a second she considered the pile of cloth, wondering what kind of bed it would make.