That snicker came again, but this time she ignored it. She wasn’t entirely sure she had full control of her temper.
“Commander Tellis, arrange teletransportation for myself and the security team to the cockpit of theMercury.”
Drayna was silent for a second before she nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
Nissa appreciated that Drayna didn’t question her need to go to theMercury. Her friend had given Nissa plenty of lectures on her obsession with locking up Justyn Phoenix.
Seconds later, a bright blue light enveloped Nissa, the teletransportation beam twisting and turning around her. Then she was staring at Justyn Phoenix in the flesh.
He was standing now and she hated that she had to look up at him. She was tall for a woman, and she wasn’t above using her height to her advantage on the job, but that wasn’t an option here.
He was wearing dark-brown trousers that molded over those long legs of his, a white shirt, and a navy vest, left open.
She caught the gaze of her head of security. “Commander Tryker, you and your team can start your search now.” The older man had been with Patrol a long time. He was experienced, capable, and dependable, she didn’t need to tell him not to miss anything.
“You got it, Captain.” His voice held a slight burr of his Tashian accent.
“Gus, give the commander a hand,” Phoenix said.
With a nod, the crusty old man headed off with Tryker and the security team.
Then it was just the two of them.
“I’m looking forward to slapping a set of electro-cuffs on you.”
Phoenix tilted his head and smiled. “Now, Captain, I always knew you had a little dominatrix under that starched uniform of yours.”
She felt a flood of heat race through her. She stepped forward until her polished, black boots hit his scarred, brown ones. “You are a criminal and I’ll enjoy seeing you in the brig.”
He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her neck, briefly touching the start of the scale pattern on her skin. “I bet when people see that sexy reptilian pattern, they think it might be rough. But it’s so smooth.”
She slapped his hand away. “Quit calling me that ridiculous name.”
“It suits you. That smooth, caramel-gold skin with those tantalizing patches of pattern. Your long, elegant neck and sexy, bare head. Your deep, oh-so-smoky voice.” He leaned down and she felt his warm breath against her face. “We both know your security team won’t find anything. Same as the last time you searched me. And the time before that.”
The scent of him ambushed her. Impossibly, he smelled like the snow-dusted trees on her homeworld of Thusia. Damn him for smelling so good.
“You also know I don’t hurt anyone, don’t steal from anyone. Why do you have such a burning need to lock me up, Captain?”
“It’s the law and it’s my job.”
“But out here on the edge, no one really cares much about laws and rules.” He waved a hand. “Things are more fluid.”
“The laws and rules are there to keep order. To keep people safe.” Goddess, Nissa could almost hear her father’s voice. Commodore Sander lived and breathed Patrol, even though he’d retired several years ago. “If we start bending or ignoring the rules, the edge will turn into a lawless, chaotic mess in less time than that speedy runnership of yours can cross the galactic border.” The thought of lawless chaos made her think of her brother. She felt a stab of pain and squelched it.
Justyn’s teeth were white against his tanned skin. “But Nissa, getting messy is so much fun.”
Her lips twitched. Goddess, he was the only person who could swing her from wanting to punch him to wanting to laugh in a matter of seconds. “Just stay out of the way while my team does their search.”
“Want to wager they won’t find anything?”
His confidence made her heart sink. She had the horrible feeling she’d be going away empty-handed and red-faced. Again. “No.”
“Come on. How about a case of that Gluk’sol wine you like to drink?”
She shook her head. Last time she’d been on Galaxy’s Edge—the closest and most popular space station on the edge—she’d let him buy her a drink. It was an unwritten rule on Galaxy’s Edge that you left your feuds and quarrels at the space dock.
In the space station’s bars and clubs, off-duty Patrol officers rubbed shoulders with smugglers, wealthy merchants drank with career thieves, and missionaries danced with pleasure workers. The damned smuggler had gotten her tipsy, made her laugh, and let his thigh brush against hers at the bar one too many times.
