“Last warning. I’m gonna count to three. One. Two…”
* * *
A girl! Mason’s eyes widened in disbelief as she crawled out of the hiding space. She rose to her feet. No, not a child, a woman, but young and short in stature. Probably from one of the outlying system planets, given her black hair and bronze skin, someplace where the sun shone, unlike his icy home-world.
The emergency light behind him cast his shadow over her. She flinched when she saw the gun in his hands. He pointed it at her chest. It was a nonlethal weapon, but it packed a punch and the stun would knock her out for hours.
“Identify yourself,” he demanded. His weapon contained a retinal scanner and the beam had already struck the back of her eye. Her identity was about to be revealed, confirming his suspicion that the ship was a rogue vessel. In his earpiece, the link to his ship’s computer uploaded a list of offenses and the droning voice rattled them off. Not exactly a hardened criminal, but a criminal nonetheless. She wouldn’t add a fortune to his bonus, but every little bit helped.
“Get lost,” she croaked, then cleared her voice. “I should ask who the fuck you are and why have you commandeered my craft.”
He kicked the loose panel. “Watch your tongue, young lady. Disrespect won’t be tolerated and I think it would be best if I ask the questions.”
“Then you’ll get no answers.” She folded her arms across her chest.
Feisty creature, except it was a brave front—her legs were shaking and her lower lip trembled. She’d a pretty pair of lips to go with her bright, splendidly dark eyes, high cheekbones, and button-ended nose. Everything about her was finely tuned, a cut above many of the females he encountered through his line of work.
“You are Jade Kryst, absconded citizen of the planet Malimor. You left Malimor without permission of the migratory authorities. You are a known associate of a criminal gang—”
“I left to serve a cause. I’m not a member of a gang. I fly relief missions—”
He raised his gun in line with her throat. “These are the charges. You’re a smuggler of contraband and therefore a fugitive from justice. There is an arrest warrant out for you.”
Her sweet, kissable mouth opened and shut before she spoke in a squeak. “You’re a cop,” she exclaimed. “You don’t look like an enforcer.”
“I’m Federal Space Marshal Mason Hadley. Uniforms aren’t compulsory for federal marshals while on missions; I need to blend into the surroundings. Although, if it makes you more compliant, I’ll put one on especially for you.” He hated wearing the damn thing. Made him look like a toy soldier.
He preferred his leathers, the feel of natural fabric against his skin and definitely not synthetics, especially armored synths—he creaked walking in them, hardly the best for stealth operations.
She slouched her weight onto one hip and folded her arms across her curvaceous chest. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll just wait here,” she smirked, cocking her head to one side.
He liked her, but not in a way that he should because she’d a bad attitude toward authority and that wouldn’t last very long if she continued to sass him. Teaching her a lesson or two appealed, although she’d not take kindly to his techniques. Pity he had to lock her up. More than lock her up, he was required to search her.
“You’re a fugitive,” he repeated. “I have the authority to detain you and this vessel including its cargo.”
She gaped once again, showing a little of her dainty pink tongue. “Please. There’re medical supplies. Essentials. They’re needed.”
“They’re needed by rebels. Kalamar is designated a forbidden destination. Now, put your hands on your head and walk.”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m not a criminal.”
Petulant, too. She was young, way too young to be flying solo, but all the same, Mason shook his head in disappointment at her belligerent tone of voice. However, that disappointment didn’t extent to her appearance—she possessed the perfect package of physical attributes: attractive figure and clever eyes that watched his every move. She bounced on her toes, ready to take flight. Spending time with her, finding out why she was alone in space like him, would make dull days more interesting. Sadly for her, he’d had his orders and he didn’t have time to argue. There were bigger prizes to catch.
Focus, Mason, keep things moving. Jade wasn’t his intended target. She might end up being an extra sweetener to add to his pot, but she’d amount to little up against his real targets.
“Have you heard of the five ‘S’s?” he asked.
She frowned, clearly bemused by his sudden question. “No.”
“The five stages of apprehending a fugitive. Stun.” He tilted the gun, but kept it aimed on her. “Stupefy, strip, search, and stasis.”
She swallowed. “I don’t understand.”
She probably did, but like many he caught, she’d gone into denial.
“I’ve not taken a female into custody before now,” he admitted soberly, reflecting on the process in all of its intricate details and the ramifications of touching her without her explicit consent. One solution—ensure she cooperated. “So, I’m going to bend the rules a little so there is no question of my taking advantage of you and just so you appreciate what a nice guy I can be, when I want to be.”
She wrinkled her nostrils. “This is nice?”