She looked down at Ari, who had fallen asleep against her chest. The baby’s small face was peaceful and trusting.
“What about her?”
“That’s even worse. She doesn’t just have market value. The Grorn want her. If they even suspect she’s here...”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“So what do we do?” Her voice was small, the wonder of the stars replaced by cold dread. “Just stay on the ship?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “I have a contact on the station. Someone I trust. We’ll dock at a private bay, and I’ll go to meet him. You’ll stay on the ship with the door locked. I’ll be back within a few hours.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“Then you take this ship and run.” He keyed something into the console. “I’m programming an emergency escape route into the navigation system. If I’m not back in six hours, you initiate the sequence and don’t look back.”
“Doren—”
“This isn’t negotiable.” His voice softened slightly. “I know you want to help. But the best thing you can do right now is stay safe. Can you do that for me?”
She wanted to argue. Every instinct screamed at her to insist on accompanying him, refusing to be left behind like some damsel in distress. But she looked at the station growing larger in the viewport—at the ships and modules and the promise of dangers she couldn’t even imagine—and she knew he was right.
“Fine,” she said quietly. “But if you’re not back in six hours, I’m coming after you.”
He laughed, but there was warmth beneath the humor. “I’d expect nothing less.”“
She looked out at the station again, the dark underbelly of the universe suddenly much clearer. This wasn’t some grand adventure. This was a nightmare with beautiful scenery. He reached out, his hand covering hers where it rested on the armrest. His palm was warm and slightly rough against her skin.
“You’re not alone in this,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Or her.”
The conviction in his voice was so absolute that she wanted to believe him. She wanted to trust that this alien smuggler with his charm and his secrets could somehow protect them from the dangers ahead.
“I know,” she said, because what else was there to say?
He squeezed her hand once, then returned his attention to the controls. The flyer began its approach to the station, weaving easily through the chaotic traffic. She watched the station grow larger in the viewport, its mismatched sections becoming more distinct.
A new fear rose to join the others, a much more personal one.
What happens after we leave this station? What happens when we’re alone again, and there’s no external threat to distract us from... this?
She glanced at him, at the set of his jaw and the focused intensity of his eyes. At the hand that still rested over hers on the console. Whatever had started between them on that narrow bed couldn’t continue, not in the real world of space stations and black markets and ancient keys. It was a distraction they couldn’t afford.
But as their ship moved through the darkness towards the glittering chaos ahead, a small, treacherous part of her hoped that somehow, in this strange new life, there might be room for more than just survival.
CHAPTER NINE
Bragar’s Rest was a disgusting cesspool of the worst the galaxy had to offer, and Doren couldn’t wait to get his feet on solid ground. The docking clamp sealed with a hydraulic hiss, and he allowed himself exactly three seconds to check the corridor before stepping off the flyer. Clear. He adjusted the hood of his cloak, pulling it low enough to shadow his features while leaving his peripheral vision unobstructed.
He didn’t let himself look back at the flyer. Couldn’t. Even though he’d set the viewports to opaque, if he thought of Emma waiting behind them he’d never be able to tear himself away.
Bragar’s Rest smelled exactly as he remembered—recycled air thick with the scent of machine oil, unwashed bodies, and something vaguely organic that he’d never been able to identify. Home, in the loosest possible definition of the word.
He moved through the private docking bay with the ease of long familiarity, skirting the pools of uncertain light cast by flickering overheads. The bay was quiet at this hour, most of its usual occupants either sleeping off their previous night’s excesses or conducting business in the station’s shadier corners. A Vexiantrader glanced up from his cargo manifest, took one look at Doren’s face, and promptly found something fascinating on the far wall to study.
Good.His reputation still held currency here.
The main corridors were busier, a constant flow of species from across the sector going about their various mostly illegal enterprises. He kept his head down and his pace steady, neither hurrying nor dawdling. Just another smuggler with business to conduct. Nothing to see.
His mind kept drifting back to the ship. To Emma, alone with the baby, trusting him to return. To the kiss that still burned on his lips like a brand.
