The maths landed all at once. The torn sleeve. The blood. The smash-and-grab approach to “shopping.”
Cylinder is seated, Fred went on. Fuel flow is green. We have three minutes before they lock down this pad. Leave the alien, Cait. Get on the ship.
She locked eyes with the handsome alien. The engine was working, and the ramp was right there.
He stepped forward, so she planted her feet and slapped her palm flat to his sternum. Over his skin. The hot, damp skin over all that hard, carved muscle… He stopped dead and looked down at her hand on his chest, then lifted his gaze to her face. The running lights caught in his red eyes.
She lifted her chin.
“What did you do?”
5
Chapter 4
Draanth. No time.
Ducking his shoulder, he hooked an arm around her legs and scooped her up, ignoring the little squeak she made. A roar followed about half a second later, and he ignored that too, pivoting on a heel and bolting for the inner hatch.
“Put me down! You giant, lumbering—put me down!”
Professional athlete to fugitive cargo hauler. What a career.
She had a hell of a set of lungs on her. And a kick, she definitely had a hell of a kick on her. He winced as one of her boots connected with his thigh, hard.
“Stop kicking,” he grunted, taking the stairs to the side of the ramp two at a time. The metal grating rang under his feet.
“This is kidnapping!” Another kick, but this time, he locked her legs down against his torso with a hard arm. All that got him was a knee to the rib cage. “I will space you! I swear to God, I will?—”
The ramp groaned beneath them. He felt the vibration through his soles a second before he heard the hydraulics engage. The heavy metal tongue was retracting, lifting to seal the ship.
She’d triggered it.
She must have punched the launch sequence on her comp before he grabbed her. Screaming murder and kicking seven hells out of him, she’d already made the call.
Smart female. Too smart for her own good.
“Hold on,” he growled as he ducked through the inner airlock ring, practically diving them both through it into the corridor. And not a moment too soon, because the ramp slammed shut behind them, almost taking his heels off.
The klaxon died mid-blare. Just—gone. The garrison shouts with it. His own breathing was suddenly the loudest thing in the corridor, ragged and far too loud.
Then the deck tilted sharply to the left.
Gravity shifted, like a heavy hand pressing down on his shoulders as the thrusters fired. The floor vibrated, a low thrum that made his teeth ache, and his stomach lurched.
She stopped fighting and cursing, hanging over his shoulder, a dead weight as the lift-off pinned them. The ship’s corridor was about as charming as the inside of a shipping crate. Somewhere, a light flickered like it was having a crisis. A tin can in a vacuum.
For long moments, the ship rattled and roared around them. But then, finally, the heavy weight pressing down on every cell in his body lifted off.
They must be in orbit now.
He took back his sigh of relief and swung her down, his arm screaming. Blood had soaked right through the bandage, leaving a wet smear across the back of her thighs. He set her on her feet, putting her back against the corridor wall and stepping away to give her some room.
“We’re clear,” he said. The satisfaction was a warm buzz in his chest, overriding the pain in his arm. “Good call on the launch.”
She didn’t answer. She leaned against the bulkhead, her chest heaving, and her hair a red disaster that half-covered her face. Her hands shook… a fine tremor, fingers loose. He’d seen it before. The moment the adrenaline ran out, and the body stopped writing credit-slips the nerves couldn’t cash.
She’s done.
