After one day in the cell, she almost wished he’d frozen her. The tedium was appalling even with the image cube that showed pictures of her family, friends, and home planet. The projections covered the wall and she lay on the narrow cot wishing she had listened more to her family and less to her friends.
Life had a purpose when she left Malimor to join the Relief Corps. A few of her friends had gone with her. They’d all heard the terrible stories coming out of other worlds and wanted to help. Locating the covert aid group had been a challenge and she’d gone through various vetting procedures before they trusted her. Then, when a number of her team had been arrested, she’d volunteered to run a solo mission. She had the knowhow to operate a craft on her own, she’d argued, and her lack of experience was not a problem—she’d be quick, in and out, depositing her cargo at the coordinates in one rotation of the planet.
It hadn’t gone quite to plan.
She watched the stars from the port window. The constellations changed patterns and she started to recognize a few of them. Mason appeared to be zigzagging his way to some unknown destination. As the sparkling stars passed before the window, she noted the angles and worked out they were leaving Kalamar behind. A shame; she’d really wanted to complete her mission.
Mason wasn’t anything like what she expected of law enforcers, although her experience of them was somewhat limited to the local force back at home and their rather relaxed attitude to the regulations. They’d let her bribe her way off the planet without the necessary forms. Marshal Mason Hadley didn’t budge as easily.
She tucked her hands behind her head and stretched out on the bed. Quite why she found Mason alluring was annoying her. A man telling her what to do wasn’t an issue. She’d nothing against authority figures. However, reinforcing it with his palm was an unexpected novelty. She should hate him for spanking her and the way he examined her, forcing her to orgasm… he had, hadn’t he? But, bizarrely, she didn’t hate him, or couldn’t, she wasn’t sure which, and it was causing her no end of confusion trying to unravel her mixed-up emotions.
Groaning in frustration, she rotated onto her belly and bundled her hands underneath her, trapping them, preventin
g them from wandering between her legs. If she had an occupation, something to take her mind off Mason, she might not have the yearning to know him better. He had the advantage over her from the outset—he’d seen her naked. She wouldn’t mind if he returned the favor and uncovered himself. She reckoned there was a fine man lurking beneath his jacket and pants. She closed her eyes and squeezed the lids shut hard, as if she could erase the image from her mind. Damn it, it wasn’t working! She had particular feelings, familiar flutters in her stomach and a wetness that shouldn’t be where it was.
Eventually, sleep came, gifted to her by exhaustion and nothing else.
When she woke, there was food next to the cot. Dried stuff, the kind soldiers lived on when they had nothing else. Tasteless rubbish. She nibbled on it, dredging up an appetite from somewhere. Another day had passed, she guessed. He’d promised her some exercise.
The lights flickered, just as they had done several times since she’d been locked up in the cell. This time it was accompanied by a clunk. Next to the door was the access panel. It should be red, indicating it was locked, and now it had turned green. The lock had been released. She waited for Mason to walk in, but the door remained shut.
Tiptoeing toward it, she placed her hand on the door release and it moved, sliding open. Mason wasn’t there. Nobody was there to greet her.
She stuck her head around the corner and glanced up and down the corridor, listening. Nothing. Not a sound except the usual vibrating whirr of a distant engine. The ship was moving. Where was Mason?
Then she noticed the panels opposite were flashing. Dashing over, she touched the screen and quickly determined the security system had failed. It wasn’t just her cell door; all the doors had sprung open including the docking locks. Her little ship was accessible and she would be able to speed away. Maybe Mason was asleep or otherwise occupied and unaware of the breakdown. The only problem would be the tractor beam—would it be functioning? She had to chance it.
With her heart pounding in her chest, she hurried to the docking bay. The access airlock swung open when she activated the switch and she crossed the air space to the outer door, the one attached to the rear of her craft. This was easier than she anticipated. It would take a few moments for the computer to boot up all the necessary systems, especially if she circumvented a few protocols. It wasn’t until the navigation computer requested a destination that she realized she had forgotten two important things.
One—her picture cube was still in the cell and she’d no other copies of the images. She muttered a curse, but decided it was too risky to retrieve.
The second thing was the alarm. Would the security failure include all the warning systems? She was about to find out if an alarm would sound if an unauthorized launch occurred.
She punched a button and Stealth lurched forward, breaking free of the dock.
“Yes, yes,” she shouted joyfully.
It was for the best. If she stayed any longer on Mason’s ship, knowing how she felt about him, it would only go horribly wrong. How could a relationship between a marshal and fugitive be initiated, let alone thrive?
* * *
The tractor beam dragged the craft toward one of the interceptor’s external airlocks, one of three that the ship possessed. The powerful engine was too strong for the shuttle. Mason monitored the progress of the docking from the flight deck of his Titan interceptor, ensuring the beam maintained a steady speed. The last thing he wanted was the force of the beam ripping apart the shuttle. The apprehension of Callo was progressing according to plan.
Collecting his stun gun, he made his way to the docking bay. The tricky part was going on board and neutralizing the fugitive. Callo wasn’t supposed to be physically strong. Descriptions of the criminal presented him as small and due to his habitual drug use, gaunt and wasted. What he did have was brains and Mason would have to proceed with caution—there might be traps on the shuttle.
It was only when he entered the docking bay that he noticed the silent alarm going off for the other airlock, the one Jade’s ship should be attached to. He checked the computer display and growled with dismay. Why hadn’t he seen it? The security protocols for all the doors on board had been wiped and reset, effectively leaving them all open. Jade’s cell door was open and so was the airlock to her craft.
Mason was faced with a dilemma: locate the whereabouts of Jade or pursue his real target—Callo?
He tightened his grip on the butt of the gun. Jade wasn’t valuable, not like Callo. She wasn’t a most-wanted criminal; she was a lowly smuggler and a bad one at that.
If he let her go, she would think he wasn’t interested in her, which wasn’t true. He might not care about her value as a criminal, but he did care for her well-being. Her lack of experience as a dealer in contraband made her vulnerable to others, especially dishonorable people who’d not think twice about ripping her off or handing her over to worse officials than himself or men like Callo.
He would have to let Jade go because Callo was too dangerous to let loose—it was a decision he might regret, and it certainly was giving him an uncomfortable feeling in his belly. Having made up his mind, he stormed into the airlock attached to Callo’s shuttle and raised his weapon, but just as he did something struck the shuttle and the shockwaves rocked the airlock. Mason lost his balance and toppled over. The weapon clattered onto the floor out of his reach, then the airlock juddered again as he tried to raise himself to his feet.
The tractor beam was still active and it seemed like the beam had latched onto another object nearby and was pulling it toward the shuttle. The culprit dawned on him—Jade’s ship was crashing into Callo’s! The jolting continued in accompaniment to horrendous screeches as the two spaceships collided. If the tractor beam didn’t shut down soon, the two vessels were in danger of hull breaches, resulting in him both losing his prey and Jade as well.
Finally, the sound of two ships grinding against each other halted. Mason scrambled to his feet and swiveled to face a diminutive figure. Something cracked against the side of his head and he blinked before falling backward.