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A peculiar chill chased up Gizelle’s spine, making her shiver. She’d never really been the recipient of D.T.’s anger, but she had the distinct feeling it would be powerful and all-consuming. And she wouldn’t weather it well.
She found herself searching for her blouse. Not that it would provide an ample barrier from the frost D.T. seemed able to call forth at will, but she did feel a little more dignified and a lot less vulnerable with her clothes back on.
“Look, this isn’t espionage, D.T. I’m not doing anything scandalous or dangerous by reaching out to the General. I just…. Shit.” She shook her head. Whether he agreed with her was moot at this point, because her mind was made up.
She knew this would be one more thing that pushed them apart, yet she didn’t feel the need to keep it from him. They’d never be of like minds, but she did believe she could confide in him. Even so, she felt the wedge between them deepen as she said, “Tanner resigned from his post four years ago and then just disappeared. We need him back.”
It was as simple as that. This particular General had more victories under his belt than any other in Earth’s history. Rumor had it, he was cunning and daring, a strategic and tactical genius. And his fighter pilots had loved him, would follow him to the outer reaches of the Milky Way to destroy Gyllian fighters, no questions asked.
Though the High Leader of the galactic Protective Forces, Commander Heath, was a force to be reckoned with, he was much older than General Tanner and didn’t fight alongside his pilots. Tanner’s fearless leadership and camaraderie was legendry, and it was what the Protective Forces needed now to keep the fighter brigades motivated and determined to win this war.
“General Tanner no longer exists,” D.T. said in a surly tone as he stalked across the room and snatched up a decanter of Scotch.
Gizelle’s jaw fell slack for a moment. “He’s dead?” she asked, incredulous. There’d been no word of that. Granted, the intel she’d received on him wasn’t current. In fact, it was a bit sketchy. But there’d been nothing to indicate that the war hero was deceased.
What a shame. He’d been so young. And damn it! They really needed him!
“D.T.,” she prompted when he didn’t respond to her previous comment.
Nor did he respond now. Instead, he poured a healthy amount of amber liquid into his glass and then promptly drained it.
“D.T.,” she repeated, a bit more insistently.
After pouring another glass of Scotch, he turned to her and said, “No. The General is not dead.”
Gizelle perked up. “You know him, then?” She crossed to where he stood, still looking tense and on the verge of erupting. But there was something about his disposition that told her he was no longer angry with her. Something else weighed heavy on D.T.’s mind. What was it?
“He’s retired,” D.T. said in a curt tone. “Passed by here a while back, but believe me, sweetheart, he doesn’t want to hear your proposition for returning to the war. There isn’t enough gold or currency in all of space to get him back in a fighter craft.”
Gizelle’s brows knitted together. “That hardly sounds like the patriot everyone on Earth has waxed poetic about for the past four years. Supposedly, he was the most committed officer and pilot the Protective Forces has ever known. And the way he rallied the troops—to this day, the brigades still rave about him.”
D.T. shook his head. At her enthusiasm? “He hated the war,” D.T. said, his voice still tight. “Believe me. He has no desire to return to it.”
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Her head cocked to one side. “Everyone hates the war, D.T. Except the currency brokers who are making a fortune on their outrageous exchange rate. And then there’s everyone on this stupid planet, who reap the rewards of pilots on leave.” Her jaw clenched in disgust. Or maybe in jealousy, because surely D.T. was one of the many who blew his wad on the Pleasure Planet’s ladies of the evening. And damn it, with the four moons circling this rock, it was always evening.
She turned away and began to pace the platinum floor, just one more of D.T.’s endless extravagances. His entire dwelling screamed of opulence and glowing seductiveness, with the soft lighting and the ocean view and the open windows. The furnishings were the best on the market, and Gizelle knew the market well. They made her slightly angry, all over again, that D.T. was so wrapped up in his personal pleasure that he didn’t give a damn about what was happening in their home galaxy.
Then again….
Gizelle spun around and pinned him with a look as he took another drink of Scotch. Her eyes narrowed on him. Something ticked away at the back of her brain and she could swear there was something she was supposed to know about D.T. that she didn’t.
Casting as wide a net as possible, she said, “You know, you hardly seem like the type to toil away in hedonistic pleasure while your race is under siege.”
Was D.T. hiding something from her? Why the hell hadn’t she thought of this before? Was she so hell-bent on achieving her own mission that she couldn’t see past such an obvious façade? Couldn’t see the asteroid for the field?
Moving swiftly toward him, she reached for his half-full glass and drained the contents. Then she pinned him with another hard look. “There has to be a reason I don’t hate you, D.T. Something compelling that eats away at my subconscious mind, telling me not to loathe your decadent ways. Like there’s something more I’m supposed to know. See. Believe in.” Her eyes narrowed on his dangerously sexy features. Her throat tightened when she looked past the scoundrel she thought him to be and maybe, just maybe, saw something more.
“Tell me what it is,” she said, her voice compelling as it filled the quiet room. “Tell me who you are, D.T. Really.”
Chapter Five
He seriously wanted to end this conversation. She was digging too deep. Going too far. Making him think about a life he’d left behind, one he didn’t intend to remember, let alone rejuvenate.
Yet, as Gizelle stood before him, looking so amazingly beautiful and sensual following the multiple orgasms he’d given her, her green eyes glowing in the moonlight that filtered in through the open windows, he knew he couldn’t lie to her.
But damn it! To tell her the truth….
