Beneath a Trojan Moon Page 6

  She was thinking of running again. He tightened his arms. “You will. Here and now.”

  Relda pressed up on one elbow. “I slept with you, Calder. That doesn’t give you the right to dictate my life—”

  “I will keep you safe. Even if you fight me every step of the way.” He rolled, tucking her beneath him. He slid inside her with one thrust.

  She moaned, her gaze locking with his.

  He pumped into her, this time slow and steady. He lowered his head closer to hers. “Because you may not have realized it, but you’re mine.”

  “Hunt—”

  He pulled out, slid back in and she made a strangled, little cry.

  “Mine. I’m not letting you go.”

  “Damn alpha male,” she grumbled. But she wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into the back of his thighs to urge him on.

  They never took their eyes off each other as he continued thrusting inside her. He watched her explode over the edge, would never get enough of seeing her come apart in his arms.

  Moments later he followed her, holding himself still inside her as his body shuddered through his orgasm.

  Once they could both function again, they showered together. Soaping each other slowly, caressing and tracing edges and curves.

  “I love this big, tough body of yours.” Relda pressed a kiss to his chest while her hand ventured farther south.

  Hunt grunted. “I much prefer your soft curves.”

  She traced a long faded scar across his stomach. “So many of these.”

  “I’ve been in a lot of fights. Thankfully, not so many now.”

  “Why did you come to Souk?”

  “It was time to retire. War was making me numb.” He’d been dying on the inside, wasn’t sure why he was fighting anymore. “I wanted peace.”

  “Peace sounds like such a nice concept.” The light faded from her eyes. “But trouble seems to follow wherever I go.”

  “Hey.” He tipped her chin up. “I’m going find whoever is after the Trojan Moon. I’ll stop him.”

  “Hunt, they know what I am now…or at least suspect. I can’t let them catch me or have the Moon. It isn’t just a pretty, valuable jewel. It amplifies psionic power.”

  He frowned. “How?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Remember I said there was a myth that it came from the forehead of the statue of a Terran goddess?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The forehead was also called the third eye. It represented powers beyond the ordinary. Psionic powers. Whatever the origins of the stone, it takes a user’s power and amplifies it.”

  “So in the hands of a low-level psionic—”

  “It could turn them as powerful as a Vega-Lyran.” She opened the shower door. “Skin’s turning wrinkly, I’d better dry off.”

  As Hunt rubbed a towel over himself, he thought about the Trojan Moon and what it could do. He had to find this bastard and end this…before Relda ran again.

  He watched her drying off. Gods, he could watch her and that naked, golden skin, all day long. She poked around in his bathroom cupboard before closing it with a huff.

  “Not a decent lotion anywhere.” She shot him an arch look over one smooth shoulder.

  “I’ll buy you any lotions you want.” He grinned. “I’ll even put it on for you.”

  She tucked the towel around her body and smiled back. “So considerate.”

  Hunt strode his to wardrobe and pulled on his trousers. “I need to get into the office. See if my team’s flagged any ships at the spaceport that might belong to whoever is behind this.” As he shrugged into his shirt, she came over to him and started doing up his buttons.

  He froze. It was such a…domestic thing to do. In a flash, he imagined having her do this for him every day. Waking up to her smoke and spice scent surrounding him, making love to her, showering and dressing together.

  This. He wanted this.

  “Thank you for helping me, Hunt.” Her voice was very quiet.

  He grabbed her hands. “It’s my job, but I’d do this for you no matter what.”

  She went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

  The kiss started out gentle but morphed to something wilder. Hunt groaned and swept her closer. Her hands clutched at his shoulders.

  They both pulled apart, panting.

  “I have to go.” But damn it, he wanted to throw her back on the bed and tear off the clothes they’d just put on.

  She straightened his collar. “I know.”

  “I want you to stay here. It’s safe. Only I know you’re here. The apartment’s owned by the Marshal’s Office, so the general public doesn’t know how to locate it.”

  She stiffened. “I’m not going to hide and be some useless damsel waiting for a rescue.”

  “Relda—”

  “I’ve been hunted all my life. I won’t hide, won’t be a victim, won’t let them win.”

  “So what, you’ll act as bait and then use your powers on them?”

  She stared at him. “Yes.”

  “And if you lose control, you’re happy to risk destroying the city, injuring your friends and your girls?”

  Her mouth snapped closed.

  He cupped her shoulders. “I know you want to fight and it isn’t in your nature to wait, but let me do my job, okay?”

  She watched him steadily for an entire minute. “Okay.” The word was dragged out of her.

  Hunt felt like he’d won the Galactic Lottery. She was placing her trust in him. He pressed a kiss to her nose. “Thank you. I won’t be gone long, I promise. Don’t answer the door to anyone but me. Stay inside—”

  “I got it, Hunt. Go, do whatever manly, marshal things you need to do.”

  For that, he gave her a light swat on the butt, then kissed her again. This time a quick brush on her forehead. He didn’t trust himself to kiss her carnal mouth and not end up back in bed.

  After she closed the door behind him, he waited until he heard the locks click into place and the beep of the security system engaging.

  “I know you’re still there,” Relda said through the door. “Go.”

  Hunt smiled at himself and started down the stairs. But his smile melted away as his thoughts turned to finding the bastard who kept attacking his woman.

  ***

  Relda hated doing nothing. Her skin itched with the need to be out there, doing something.

  To distract herself, she had no qualms about poking around Hunt’s apartment.

  Not that there was much of the man in the place. It was pretty stark, the shelves empty and the furniture standard. But he did have a nice collection of actual books. She carefully touched the covers, seeing that he favored historical military thrillers. No surprise there. She guessed his Sync would be chock full of the same and easily imagined him sprawled in the armchair at the end of the day sipping an ale and reading a book.

  She poked around in his closet and found a whole slew of black cargo pants, simple button down shirts and a few more of those tactical vests.

  But on the far wall in the bedroom she noticed a small holo-pic. A landscape. It was of a beautiful agrarian scene with a large, ringed planet hanging overhead. Predia. His homeworld. She pressed a finger to the frame and thought about the terrible circumstances that had forged such a strong, admirable man.

  Relda decided to raid the tiny kitchen for a snack when the front door chimed. Her heart leaped. Maybe Hunt had already found the attackers. She hurried to the door and activated the panel beside it.

  The camera showed a sandy-blond man in a deputy’s uniform.

  “Ma’am, I know you’re there,” Deputy Westin said. “The marshal just wanted me to check on you. Don’t open the door, just let me know you’re okay.”

  Relda frowned. Hunt had said to only open the door for him, but this was Deputy Westin, he’d been hurt protecting her. And besides, she wasn’t going to open the door. She touched a button. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  The deputy’s face lit up. “Excelle
nt. Thanks.” He turned and left.

  She wandered back into the living area. She could read one of Hunt’s books, turn on the holo-screen and find a movie. But an edginess was growing under her skin, energy sparking around her.

  She couldn’t see her own future, but her abilities always gave her hints. Something was coming and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  She worried the rings on her fingers. Maybe she should call Hunt? She shook her head. And tell him what? She was feeling nervous without him?

  Huffing out a breath, she paced the living room. She was fine here. Besides, she wasn’t exactly defenseless.

  Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Relda spun and saw the front door shudder under the impact of…something.

  Another huge thud. But the door held.

  She took a step backward, her heart hammering.

  A patch in the center of door began to glow. It changed from gold to orange to scarlet red.

  Another bang and this time, the heated portion of the door gave away.

  Relda took a deep breath. She felt the energy flow around her and she opened her hands and held her arms in front of her.

  Between her palms, electricity sparked.

  A small object flew through the hole in the door, bounced once, then rolled along the floor until it smacked against her bare feet.

  A small black canister. With a quiet hiss, a green gas released from the ends of it.

  What the hell? Relda stepped backward. Sync, she needed to get to her Sync. She scrambled away but the gas was spraying up, filling the room. She wrinkled her nose, but found it didn’t smell bad at all. The electricity between her hands died away and her vision blurred.

  Her abilities…were gone.

  And she felt dizzy.

  She stumbled, aiming for the bedroom. But someone grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet.

  She caught a glimpse of Deputy Westin’s face before something was pulled over her eyes.

  “You’re worth a lot of e-creds, Ms. Dela-Cruz,” the man said. “A real life Vega-Lyran…that’s a lot of e-creds.”

  She tried to kick and twist, but her limbs felt so incredibly heavy. And her head felt like it was plugged with glue.

  The man stepped through the broken door and tossed something back into the apartment. She heard the clink as it hit the floor.

  As they exited the building, Relda heard the boom of an explosion followed by breaking glass.

  Hunt. She tried to scream, but Hunt’s name was just an echo in her head.

  Chapter Seven

  Hunt sat in his office, staring at his computer console. He was looking through the short list of starships sitting in port. Nothing was jumping out.

  A freightership owned by a trader who frequented Souk regularly. A retrofitted runnership owned by Miro Enterprises. They did pleasure tours around the star system. Hunt rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe his hunch to check out the ships was a bust.

  The next image made him pause. A high-end, luxury cruiser called the Oracle. Registered to a Timothy Li. Hunt ran a prelim search. Li was part of a minor telepathic race from the Ming system. Tapping his fingers against his desk, Hunt executed a more detailed search on Timothy Li.

  The man was a collector of ancient artifacts. Hunt’s instincts sprang to life and they’d saved his ass too many times for him to ignore it. Time to pay Timothy Li a visit for a random ship inspection.

  Suddenly, an alarm blared from his Sync. Every muscle in his body tensed. The security alarm at his apartment!

  “Marshal! Marshal!”

  Hasan appeared in the doorway. The young deputy was panting from his sprint.

  Hunt leaped to his feet. “What is it, Hasan?”

  “Your apartment, sir—”

  “Spit it out!” Dread curdled in Hunt’s veins.

  “There was an explosion…”

  Hunt ran. “Hasan, you’re with me. Get Suleman and Westin as well.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Outside, Hunt jumped on one of the Department’s tracers. The tracer was a low-slung, water-powered motorcycle that could easily maneuver through Medina’s narrow streets. He started the engine, leaned forward and gripped the controls, and took off. Fast.

  He zipped through the alleyways and around any people in his way. The smoke rising above the buildings made his jaw clench. Be okay, beautiful.

  Ahead his apartment came into view. Smoke still poured from the top of the building, but the firefighters’ fire suppression ship hovered overhead and had doused the flames with retardant foam.

  Gods. Hunt’s throat was so dry he couldn’t swallow. He slid to a stop and leaped off the tracer. He should never have left her alone.

  He stared at the charred remains, the smell of smoke sharp in his nose. It reminded him of another awful day. His home burning. His parents dead. And of all the battlefields where he’d lost brave men and women.

  He charged at the building. He had to find Relda.

  Suddenly two of his deputies and three firefighters were there, holding him back.

  “Let me go,” he roared.

  “There building’s not safe,” one of the firefighters yelled.

  “She’s up there. I have to get to her.” He’d told her he’d protect her.

  The firefighter sighed, his voice softening. “If there was anyone up there, there’s nothing you can do for them now. A military-grade explosive was used. I’m sorry.”

  The fight bled out of Hunt and a cold desolation stole through him. His head slumped his chest and he fought for air.

  “Sir?” Hasan’s voice was hesitant. “Ms. Dela-Cruz…she was in your apartment?”

  He managed a nod, unable to get the words out of his closed throat.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  He glanced at his men, frowned. “Where’s Westin?”

  “We can’t find him, sir. He’s been missing since this morning.”

  Something wasn’t right.

  Hunt glanced at the smoldering remains of his apartment. Finally his brain kicked in, working through the despair. There were too many old memories mixed up with his feelings for Relda and it was affecting his thinking.

  Hunt breathed deep, pulling in everything and trying to sort through the scents. He moved closer to the door, fighting past the heavy smell of smoke. He scented the aroma of the Soukan stew his downstairs neighbor always cooked. He picked up the sharp scent of lastite explosive. And there…just the faintest trace of smoky spice.

  Relda wasn’t there, he knew it. Whoever was after the Trojan Moon had taken her.

  “Spaceport. Now.” Hunt ran for the tracer. “Hasan, get on the comm and send a no take-off order for all starships.”

  Gods, don’t let me be too late. I’m coming, beautiful.

  ***

  Relda woke. Woozy, aching and confused.

  She moved and heard chains clank. Her eyes opened and she realized her arms were stretched above her head and chained to the ceiling…of a starship. Panic snuck in, making it hard to breathe. She was naked and her feet were chained as well.

  Infinite energy, her shoulders hurt.

  “Excellent. You’re awake.”

  The crisp, male voice made her raise her head.

  He leaned against the far wall, beside a floor-to-ceiling window that showed a view of the many ships at the Souk spaceport. He was average height, lean, wearing a tailored suit made of some expensive fabric with a sheen. His face was long and narrow with a tiny goatee and eyes of a liquid black. He was older—and it wasn’t just the silver threading his space-black hair at the temples that gave it away—he had an air of a man who knew what he wanted and got it.

  But his aura dominated. Lots of ugly shades of jealous green mixed with soulless black.

  “Who—” her voice cracked, her throat dry. She swallowed and tried again. “Who are you?”

  “Timothy Li.” He sketched a small bow.

  She recognized the name. She made a habit of keeping a discreet ear to the groun
d on anyone who was overly interested in Vega-Lyrans. Timothy Li wasn’t just interested, he was obsessed.

  Li came closer, studying her with an acute interest that made her skin crawl. When he reached up, she flinched. She tried to use her abilities, but her system was still sluggish, her abilities nothing but a flicker.

  “The chemical we used to subdue you also nullifies your…skills.” He reached up, his fingers brushing her breast as he gripped the Trojan Moon. He held it for a second, eyes glittering. Then he reached up, his breath on her face as he undid the chain.

  He held it up, the light catching the swirls in the blue-gray jewel.

  “Incredible. I couldn’t believe when an associate described it to me. And that he’d seen it hanging around the neck of a beautiful fortune teller in the middle of nowhere.”

  Just a random, chance encounter. The unfairness of it burned her. “How did you know it was the Moon?”

  “He joked about the fact that he thought it had glowed red, just for a second, while you told him his fortune. And I just knew it had to be the Trojan Moon. I knew the red glow was unique to the Moon.” He grinned like an excited child. “I have some Vega-Lyran blood, you know.”

  Yeah, right. Relda rolled her eyes, made sure he saw her do it.

  His teeth ground together and his nearly black eyes settled on her. She felt her skin crawl.

  “I never in a million years thought I’d find a real, live, full-blood Vega-Lyran.” Timothy Li leaned closer, his aura sparking with bright orange and colorless black. He traced a finger down the side of her neck and she shuddered. His eyes flashed with a sickening mix of awe, fear and arousal. “They say fucking one of your kind can make a man immortal.”

  Bile was an acid taste in her mouth. Where did they come up with these stupid ideas?

  “And if eaten, your heart can transfer your powers.”

  “If you believe that drivel, then you’re dumber than I thought,” she snapped.

  He drew back. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough. And even without you, I have the Moon to amplify my powers.” He strode to a comm panel on the wall. “Darrah, begin preparations for takeoff. I’d like to get off this backwater world and back to civilized space.”