“Maybe you can patch things up.” It bothered her to see him so agitated and to discover he was just as alone in the universe as she was.
“Enough. I will not speak of this further.” He held up a hand to forestall any further commentary on her part.
“Incoming message from the galactic council.” The computer’s voice interrupted them.
Tren’s brows drew together. “What in frukx do they want? They know I am retired.”
“Who’s the galactic council?” Megan asked. “And what did you retire from?”
“None of your affair. You’ll have to leave so I can hear the message. I’ve left the package with your new garments in our quarters.”
Megan knew a brushoff when she heard it. It still annoyed her. She began to walk toward the elevator when he caught her and spun her around. Drawing her up on tiptoe, he kissed her; a hard bruising embrace that stole her breath.
She didn’t say anything when he let her down, just stared at his eyes which glowed with intensity. “I will be along shortly. I expect to see you wearing something new. Or else,” he warned with a wink.
Megan blew him a raspberry in reply which made him chuckle. Smiling herself, she left him, entering the elevator that would take her back to his quarters. As she exited into the corridor, a tremor rocked the ship, and Megan braced her hand against the wall.
What the fuck was that?
An alarm sounded which didn’t reassure her, but not as badly as the frisson of fear that struck her when the lights went out.
Megan froze, surrounded by pitch black. Somehow she doubted this boded well, a belief that tripled when she heard a scuffling sound echoing somewhere in the corridor with her.
“Tren?” She hated the quaver in her voice. However, she forgave herself in this instance. Seriously, the situation warranted it.
Nobody replied, but the skin on her nape prickled, announcing the fact she shared the dark hall with someone-or something else. She reached at her waist for her needle only to curse silently as her hand didn’t locate it. She’d left it in the bridge during her wait for Tren.
A whisper of sound from behind made her whirl, not that she could see anything. She punched forward with her fists and was rewarded with contact and a grunt, but her feeble blow didn’t stop the fabric from getting pulled over her head, or the prick in her arm.
“Tren’s going to fucking kill you for touching his merchandise,” she slurred to her unseen attacker before slumping to the floor unconscious.
Chapter Ten
Tren stood for a moment watching the elevator door, wishing he could follow Megan instead of wasting time listening to a message he had no interest in.
But I will not chase after a female. Brave words that made him sigh and his cock sulk. “Play the message from the council,” he ordered aloud to the computer.
He’d no sooner settled into his chair than the screen lit up with the galactic council crest, but the face that appeared immediately after had him jumping from his seat and growling.
“Z’nistakn, what the frukx do you want?”
The green scaled humanoid flicked a forked tongue and chuckled, a gravelly, wet sound. “I want what I always have, your head on a platter, and your entrails on my plate.”
Tren smiled coldly. “Threats? Are you really so stupid? I could use a new pair of boots.”
The councilor hissed and his slitted yellow eyes narrowed. “First, you’d have to find me, filthy mercenary.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he replied not letting on that he already knew the location of the corrupt councilor’s supposed safe base. Tren wondered what Z’nistakn was truly after. Idle chitchat didn’t seem like his usual style.
“I have a job for you.”
And now they got to the true point of the call. “I’m retired.”
“Surely you could make an exception. I would make it worth your while.” The reptile drummed his clawed fingers on his armrest.
Tren wanted to reach through the view screen and throttle the creature. He’d disliked the dishonest galactic councilor for quite some time, a feeling reciprocated, and yet Z’nistakn still called upon his services even though Tren kept declining. “I’m busy.”
“So I’ve heard. Cavorting with a human female. I thought you enjoyed better taste.”
Tren restrained himself from growling. What did he care if the slimy councilor insulted Megan? She simply satisfied a need. “Find another mercenary to do your dirty work. I’m not interested.”
The councilor’s forked tongue flicked out again, and he sighed with exaggeration. “Well, I am glad to hear it isn’t the barbarian female making you soft. In that case, you won’t miss her then.”
Before Tren could retort, an explosion jarred his ship and Z’nistakn chortled. Tren cut the communication and moved even as his computer warned him.
“Rear hatch blown. Unauthorized life forms boarding. Sealing-”
An invisible pulse made the air around him waver and sent a shiver through his body. The voice of the machine abruptly cut off as the power supply to his vessel died and pitched him into darkness. Very little could incapacitate his vessel, but the well-aimed electromagnetic pulse would temporarily throw everything offline. His whole system would reboot with an astral quarter unit.
“Frukx!” Tren cursed aloud, but didn’t remain still. He needed to get to Megan. The dark didn’t bother him. He’d long ago gotten the visual enhancements that allowed him to see better than most nocturnal creatures. He also wouldn’t let a paltry thing, such as a lack of power, keep him from Megan. Not when she needs me.
As he pried up the hatch in the elevator floor, he called himself all kinds of names for stopping at this way station and not remaining more on guard. Usually nobody or anything could get close enough to his ship to do damage, but he’d allowed the repair crew to do so and without supervision. Under normal circumstances, he oversaw all adjustments; however, this time, he’d found himself preoccupied with one feisty female. A lesson learned that he wouldn’t repeat.
In the meantime, he needed to rectify his error, and quickly. Megan faced danger, alone.
Unacceptable.
Tren moved quickly down the laddered rungs in the elevator shaft, mentally counting until he reached the correct floor. He pried the doors open and dove into the corridor, ducking into a roll as he drew his guns. He ended up on one knee with both his arms extended, his guns primed to fire.
However, of Megan, he saw nothing. Going on instinct, he bypassed his quarters and ran for the other end of the corridor where the lesser used secondary elevator shaft resided. The gaping maw of its opening made him run faster, and he flew down the ladder. He navigated the warren of tunnels and utility shafts on the lowest level, easily locating the blown hatch the attackers used to force their way in. He ducked through the ragged opening and emerged into the work bubble erected around the lower thruster section as the garage performed repairs.
Peering around, Tren’s jaw tightened at the realization Megan was gone. Anger battled with sinking dread.
A smart acquisitions specialist would have let her go, chalked her up as a loss, one barbarian female’s worth not equal to the damage or fuel expense of a chase and recapture. An intelligent male would have looked upon the situation as the easiest method in which to rid himself of a copulation partner without fear of reprisal.
But Megan belonged to him. And no one takes what is mine.
Megan woke to a thick tongue and a pounding head. She blinked her eyes open and didn’t like what she saw, so she closed them. She took a deep breath, then another. All in all, she took about ten shuddering breaths before she opened them again.
Nope, still a bad situation. Damn.