Page 7 of Naughty List Delivery
She’d gone still, but she hadn’t dropped the device in her hands. “Most people probably don’t need the credits as badly as I do.”
When she’d turned to face me, I’d felt something shift in my chest. Green eyes, bright with intelligence and utterly fearless despite the weapon pointed at her heart. She’d been young—maybe twenty-five—but there’d been an edge to her that spoke of hard experience.
“What’s your name, little thief?”
“Does it matter?” Her chin had lifted in that defiant gesture I’d come to love. “You’re going to kill me anyway.”
“That depends on how interesting you make the next few minutes.”
She’d smiled then, sharp and dangerous. “Your security system has seventeen vulnerabilities. I’ve already exploited twelve of them. Want to know about the other five?”
I should have killed her. Should have spaced her like I’d threatened. Instead, I’d found myself lowering my weapon, fascinated by the sheer audacity of the woman who’d not only broken into my ship but was now offering to improve my defenses.
“You’re either very brave or very stupid,” I’d told her.
“I prefer ‘strategically desperate.’” She’d held up the device she’d been using—a custom code-breaker that looked like it had been built from scavenged parts. “I can crack any system in the galaxy, fly anything with engines, and I know the location of three corporate treasure ships that are practically begging to be robbed.”
“And in exchange?”
“Partnership. Fifty-fifty split, equal say in targets, and enough credits to get me off this rock and into a ship of my own.”
I’d stared at her for a long moment, this slip of a woman who’d just proposed one of the most audacious business arrangements in pirate history. “Partners don’t try to rob each other.”
“Partners don’t leave each other defenseless either.” She’d gestured to the weapon lockers. “I was testing your security. You failed. Lucky for you, I know how to fix it.”
That had been the beginning. Three years of partnership that had evolved into something deeper, more dangerous than either of us had expected. She’d been my equal in every way that mattered—brilliant, fearless, and utterly ruthless when the situation called for it.
So where was that woman now?
I examine the beacon more closely—custom work, elegant and nearly undetectable. The kind of professional modification that takes skill, patience, and intimate knowledge of magnetic coupling systems. She’d built this herself, probably during one of those long, lonely nights when she was supposed to be going straight.
Part of her missed this life. Missed me.
The beacon’s frequency is encrypted, but I recognize the pattern. It’s the same code we used to use for our private communications during raids—a rhythm that mimicked a Felaxian heartbeat in sleep. She could have chosen any frequency, but she picked ours.
My claws trace the beacon’s surface with careful precision. I could disable the tracker. Should disable it, if I want operational security.
Instead, I modify it.
The adjustment takes three minutes of careful rewiring—long enough for me to imagine Nova hunched over her console, watching my location with those green eyes narrowed in concentration. Is her pulse racing? Does she remember what it felt like when we used to hunt as a pack, moving through space like twin shadows?
When I finish, the beacon transmits normally. Except now it’s broadcasting on two frequencies—hers, and mine. She can track me, but I can track her tracking me. Every time she checks my location, I’ll know exactly where she is.
“Two can play predator and prey, sweetheart,” I murmur to the empty air. “But you forgot the most important rule.”
In the end, there’s only one apex predator.
Six hours. I’d given her six hours to get power back and realize the futility of running from me. But as my sensors track her progress through the hyperspace lanes, something doesn’t feel right. Her ship’s moving too smoothly, too fast for something that should still be limping from my sabotage.
“Kex.” My voice cuts through the bridge’s ambient noise. “Pull up the Wandering Star’s engine specifications from our boarding scan.”
The data populates my screen, and I study the readouts with growing appreciation—and something that might be arousal.Not only had she repaired my sabotage—she’d improved it. Rerouted power flow, optimized the plasma conduits, even upgraded the jump capacitors. Her ship was now faster and more maneuverable than it had been before I’d touched it.
“Magnificent,” I breathe, my tail coiling with predatory satisfaction. The Nova I’d fallen in love with had always been brilliant with engines, but this was beyond her old skill level. Two years of legitimate work had honed her abilities into something extraordinary.
She wasn’t just running from me. She was getting creative.
The tracking data shows her current position—pushing hard toward Meridian Station, exactly where I’d predicted she’d need to refuel. But her improved engines gave her options I hadn’t accounted for. She could make the jump to any of three systems from there, and with her enhanced speed, I’d lose her if I chose wrong.
