Page 51 of Havik: Warlord Brides
Thalia shrugged.
Naston stirred into consciousness just as the medics arrived. Thalia stepped back, briefly describing what happened and what she did. They administered another injection and made Naston drink damn near a gallon of water.
Sue handed Thalia a cold beer as they watched the medics work. “What were you doing with the big red guy?”
Thalia bristled, glancing to the empty table where Havik had been. She didn’t want Sue’s attention on Havik. Not just because Sue might recognize him, but because he washers. She didn’t share.
“Working,” Thalia answered. Disappointment flashed on Sue’s face, and Thalia knew what type of work Sue thought she did. Thalia held up two credit tokens. “Not that kind of working.”
“Why do you wear those glasses? You can get your eyes fixed, you know.”
The question felt like a job interview. Did she want this to be a job interview? “I don’t need to get my eyes fixed. Since we’re getting personal, what happened to your face?” Thalia raked two fingers down her cheek to demonstrate her meaning.
“I had a disagreement with the previous captain. I thought I’d be a better one. He didn’t. I got one cut for each failed mutiny attempt. The third time’s the charm. Do you know what I learned from that?”
“If the crew mutinies, they better do it right the first time?” It seemed obvious to Thalia.
The calculating grin returned. “I think I have a spot for you on my crew.”
Thalia took a long swig from the bottle. Leaving with Sue wasn’t Havik’s plan, but it was a damn good opportunity. He already ID’d the crew as smugglers. Surely, he’d know that if she left with Sue, it was just part of the job and not running away. Who would run away from a kiss like that? She wanted to snuggle up with him and discover where those kisses could take them.
Good places, she bet. The best places.
Fuck. She wanted to stay with her Danger B, but Sue presented the ideal opportunity to get in with the crew. They were inclined to trust her. Her gut told her she couldn’t say no, so she said yes.
“Sign me up, captain.”
Havik
This was not the plan.
Havik watched Thalia leave of her own volition with the smugglers. Had they coerced her? Tricked her? He hated to imagine Thalia in peril. Then, a quiet and vicious thought wiggled its way into his head: had the smugglers made a more generous offer?
No. For her many numerous faults, she was loyal to her word. She often applied a very generous interpretation to her word, but he felt confident that she would not betray him. She assessed the battlefield and adjusted the plan of attack, as any warrior would do.
Havik paced back and forth in front of the ship, waiting for Ren to return so they could leave this miserable station and retrieve his mate. Even if they left that instant, they would need to follow at a distance outside of long-range scanners, which meant burning fuel for nothing.
They had time. He had to be patient.
Fuck patience.
Waiting grated against him like sand in the wind. He needed to be doing something. Anything.
“Don’t you have a female to scowl at and silently judge? Where is Thalia?” Ren balanced a medium-sized box on one shoulder and carried a bag.
Havik hated the way his friend said his mate’s name, like it was humorous. What he shared with Thalia was sacred and just for them. He did not need Ren’s laughter.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he shook his head to clear away the possessive thoughts and updated Ren on the situation.
“Lost another female?” Ren grinned at his perceived cleverness.
Havik landed a swift blow to the smiling fool’s abdomen. Ren doubled over, dropping the box and bag. A bell jingled. A colorful plastic ball rolled down the pavement.
Stabs—Havik would not acknowledge a fictitious rank—bolted down the ramp. Tail rattling, the kumakre pounced and tumbled with the ball, the bell jingling merrily.
Ren kneeled and opened the box. “This part was specially made. If you damaged it, we will be here another day.”
“Unacceptable.”
