Page 45 of Ren: Warlord Brides
Something ridiculous. Something akin tohold my beer. Something rash and short-sighted, but Gemma never waited around for other people to do the rescuing. She’d rescue her own damn self.
Emry sprang to her feet with a half-formed plan. Rash? Absolutely. Maybe Ren had a perfectly reasonable explanation?
Nope. She wasn’t interested in hanging around and letting the red guy spin more lies.
She opened cabinets and ran her hands along the shelves, groping in the dark. This was a civilian-class ship and should have emergency kits in every room. Pashaal’s ship had emergency packs under every chair and squirreled away in easy-to-reach locations, in case space highwaymen boarded the ship. Given the shady nature of Pashaal’s dealings, Emry was honestly surprised they hadn’t been raided yet.
There.
In a recessed panel under the cabinet, she pulled on a velcro strap and released an emergency kit. The contents left a lot to be desired, focusing on first aid. Defense items were laughable.
Emry turned a stunner over in her hands before putting it back. No way a civilian model taster would be strong enough to stun a Mahdfel. The utility knife hummed to life when she pressed a button embedded in the handle. Plasma danced along the edge of a blade. Better, but not ideal. She’d have to get real close to Ren for the utility knife to be a serious threat. Still, she tucked it into the waistband of her pants.
What she needed was a tool to intimidate a genetically engineered super-soldier, and nothing in the kit screamed “pick me!” Anything she threw at him, including the stunner, would most likely tickle because he was a big red super soldier designed to resist damage and heal like a damn Terminator.
Emry grabbed the plasma flare. The weight felt solid in her hand.
This was a bad idea, but she was committed.
“What is that?”
Emry looked up from the flare gun. Ren stood a few paces away, watching her warily. “I know you didn’t come here for me,” she said.
“False. I—”
“Don’t lie to me!” She raised the flare gun, pointing it at him.
“I do not lie.”
“You just can’t stop, can you? I saw the file on Pashaal. I don’t know what you were doing there, but it wasn’t because you had regrets that we ended before we started.” Her voice twisted as she parroted his words back to him. Anger, her steady, constant companion, settled around her.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Tell me what you are thinking.”
“I’m thinking this is my ship now.” She waved the gun toward the escape pods. “Go in the escape pod,” she said. He did not move. “Now!”
“The plasma flare will not incapacitate me, and it is not turned on.”
Dammit.She flicked the safety switch and the plasma flare hummed with energy. “Maybe, maybe not. I imagine it’d hurt like hell.”
“Pain is momentary.”
Of all the stubborn—
“Is now the time for your stoic Zen badass routine? Get in the pod!”
“If you intend to intimidate me, you should know how to use the weapon correctly.”
Acting before she could second guess the wisdom of waving around a plasma flare gun inside a spaceship, she pointed the flare gun at the nearest control panel. Light and smoke burst from the panel. Sparks rained down. The ship’s power surged and flickered as it rerouted itself around the damage.
“Do not,” Ren said. He stretched out a hand, like he could take the flare gun from her.
“I don’t need to incapacitate you. I just need to damage your ship.”
“That is illogical.”
She shrugged. “Momma always said I was stubborn enough to cut off my nose to spite my face. How many more shots before I damage something vital?”
“The plasma flare has a limited energy pack.”
