3013: Targeted (6 page)

He forgot about the throb of his jaw when a knife blade flashed in the red light of the bar’s sign, and he reacted quickly, throwing up his arm to block the incoming blow. The blade sliced across his forearm, the sharp pain only feeding his bloodlust. Hawke kept his injured arm up as a shield as he reached out and gripped his attacker’s wrist in a brutal hold. He didn’t hesitate before giving the joint a hard twist, continuing the pressure until there was a keen wail of pain and he felt the other man’s bones break beneath his fingers. The knife fell to the floor with a clang, lost in the melee before Hawke could retrieve it.

Not even a broken wrist stopped his opponent from going on the offensive again, though he was off-balance and swinging wildly when he came at Hawke this time. The D’Aire stepped in to help, slamming the edge of his hand into their attacker’s throat while Hawke took out the man’s knee with a vicious kick, and the other man went down hard, his eyes glazed over and his hands clasped to his neck. The Krytos finished the others off seconds later, and the four victors stood for a silent second, eyes on their fallen adversaries.

The cut Hawke had sustained in the fight began to burn, but before he could do more than cover it with a hand to slow the bleeding, one of the Krytos snarled in pain and dropped to his knees, both hands to his stomach.

“Fuck, that hurts!”

Hawke recognized the voice. T’karra’s brother, Danor. “How bad is it?” he asked the sanctuary’s head of security.

“Bad. Worse than it should be.” Danor’s golden skin was turning ashen, the color bleeding away faster than the traces of red still lingering in his eyes. The other Krytos crouched by Danor, guiding him down to the floor and helping to add pressure over the injury.

“I have found one of the blades they carried.” The words were spoken in the near hypnotic tones that could only belong to an
Angel
. The D’Aire appeared at Hawke’s side, holding the weapon out for them to see. The tip was broken off, and the blade looked strange. Hawke leaned in for a closer look and swore as he recognized the metal.

Why the fuck where these assholes carrying silver blades?

“That’s silver, and I think the rest of the blade is still inside the wound. Fuck, Danor, hang on. You’re not going to enjoy the next few hours.”

“Silver?”  Both Krytos growled the word with disgust.

“Your kind have an adverse reaction to this substance, do you not?” The D’Aire asked, his concern growing.

“They do,” Hawke ignored the sharp burn of his own wound and activated his wrist-unit’s comm link. He needed Brandt to send med-techs and security, and he needed them here two minutes ago. Before he could send a message, he got an incoming ping from Brandt.

“We got a call there was an attack. Help’s on the way. What the fuck happened?”

“Send med-techs, stat. Danor’s been stabbed, and the blade was fucking silver. We think there’s a piece of it lodged in his wound. I’m cut, too, and I have another Krytos and a D’Aire with minor injuries.”

Brandt’s voice boomed over the link loud enough everyone present reacted to the stream of curses coming from Hawke’s wrist-unit. “We’ve been in charge of this fucking place for a week, Hawke. How am I going to explain to Command what happened? And why the fuck are you anywhere near the sanctuary? T’karra will have your kidneys on a plate if she finds out you’re within spitting distance of her bar.”

“Explanations can wait. Just get over here.” Hawke ended the transmission and went back to pressing down on his wound. The silver blade wasn’t going to be a problem for him. At worst, it might make the cut heal slower. For Danor, though, it was a much bigger issue. Krytos had a severe allergy to silver, and Danor had a piece of it lodged inside him.

“You’re Hawke. Commander Summers. The bastard who lied to my sister.” Danor’s lips curled back into a snarl as he glowered up at Hawke.

“I was doing my job, Danor. Now, do us both a favor and shut up. You need to save your strength, and I don’t want to talk about T’karra right now. If anything happens to you, she’s going to kick my ass out the nearest airlock and watch as I expire.”

Danor laughed faintly. “That would be too quick. She’s more likely to carve you into pieces and toss you out the airlock a chunk at a time.”

“You’re right, so do me a favor and don’t die on me.”

“I am Krytos, it will take more than this to end my life.” Danor’s last words ended in a hiss of pain, and his complexion grew even paler. The rapidly approaching sound of boots hitting the deck plating brought a smile to Hawke’s lips, and he turned back toward the sound.

Med-techs and armed Alliance guards were closing in from all sides, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been worried any of the suspects still breathing would recover enough to start another fight before help arrived. At the moment, none of the ones still standing were in any shape to go another round.

* * * *

T’karra’s world was crumbling around her, but she was determined not to show it. If the bastards who had done this to her family were watching, she would not give them the satisfaction of showing the slightest sign of weakness.

Four Alliance security officers had been sent to escort her and Verak to medical, all of them armed and wearing full body armor. Normally, she’d have been furious to have that much weaponry in her bar, but not tonight. Tonight, she was grateful Carver had sent them. He’d called her himself, only minutes after her people had woken her up and told her what had happened. Carver had been grim-faced, but calm while he relayed what little information he had.

Danor was in surgery already, and everyone else involved was being treated for minor injuries. For the second time in recent history, her sanctuary had been marred by violence and bloodshed. This time, the target was someone in her own family, and she knew with a sick certainty it wasn’t a coincidence.

Verak stuck to her side for the brief walk across the station, his eyes flickering with traces of red as he fought to control his rage. She knew her eyes were the same, they had to be, because she could feel the beast within her surge and rage as it fought to be unleashed. It didn’t matter there was no enemy to fight, her dark side wanted control. It wanted to claw, bite, and fight until the pain and worry inside her was obliterated by anger. The dual nature of her people was both a gift and a curse, and tonight, the blind rage was a distraction she could do without. Someone was out to destroy everything she cared about, and to defeat them, she needed a clear head.

Verak touched her hand as they approached the doors to the medical bay. “He will survive this. He’s as strong as he is stubborn. No doubt he’ll soon be sharing the story of tonight’s battle with anyone who will listen, trying to impress females with his new scar.”

“I will happily listen to him tell the story as many times as he wishes. It will be a small price to pay for his survival.”

Verak grinned, his eyes finally reverting back to true black as he calmed. “You say that now, but after a few years, you and I both know we’ll be sick of the tale.”

The banter helped her relax, and her anger finally faded. “Thank you.”

Her youngest brother shrugged, but his grin widened enough she saw the tips of his fangs. “I thought perhaps you might want to be calm before you saw the commanders again.”

“Not scaring the humans is far from being my top concern,” she snapped, and Verak chuckled.

“I’ve seen the way they look at you, sister mine. Those ’leets are interested, and so are you. Which is why I figured you wouldn’t want to be all fangs and fury when we went through that door.”

“Interested? In that pair of lying, devious, humans? Hardly. Besides, any male who was interested in me would have to be strong enough to deal with all my
fangs and fury
.” She shoved the door open with more force than she intended, sending it crashing into the wall.

“Of course you’re not interested. What the hell was I thinking?” Verak muttered, sounding entirely unconvinced.

“Shut up, ’Rak. Now’s not the time to even be discussing this.”

“Didn’t you just tell me there was nothing to discuss?
This
is why Danor and I have yet to find a mate. You females are impossible to understand.”

Her rebuttal died on her lips as she looked down the hallway and spotted Carver. He looked different out of uniform, less remote. His black t-shirt was rumpled, and he hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes before leaving his suite. He’d been leaning against the doorframe of a room at the end of the hall, but the noise of her arrival drew his attention. He straightened and said a few words to whoever was in the room before coming to meet them.

“I have good news. Your brother is still in surgery, but we got an update a few minutes ago. He’s expected to make a full recovery.”

T’karra finally let go of the breath she’d been holding since she’d seen Carver standing there. Danor was going to be okay. Now, she could stop worrying and start addressing the myriad of other problems demanding her attention.

“You said there were others who were hurt. Patrons of my bar, yes? I want to see them. I need to hear what happened, and I…”

Verak interrupted. “And
we
need to make this right. They were attacked in our sanctuary, by our enemies.”

Brandt hated seeing the vulnerability in T’karra’s eyes. There were shadows beneath her beautiful eyes, and her brow was creased in a perpetual frown. Her home and her family were under attack, and they had no idea why, or by who.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, wincing when he felt the stubble there. Well, it was the middle of the night. None of them were currently at their best. “I’m not sure the men who attacked you are your real enemies. They’re run-of-the-mill thugs for hire. I suspect they were hired by the ones targeting your family. It’s going to be hard to find out, though. Four of them are dead, and the survivor has a broken wrist and a fractured larynx. He’s still in surgery, and it will be a while before we can get any information from him.”

“And the ones who were attacked?” T’karra asked.

“Two of the D’Aire were able to get away without injury. The third is having his wounds attended to now, along with one other person. Your man, Batir, only has a few bumps and bruises. He’s being debriefed in the room over there.” Carver nodded toward a closed door, and Verak immediately headed in that direction.

“I want to hear what Batir has to say,” he said as he opened the door and announced his presence before disappearing inside.

“I would like to speak to the D’Aire who was hurt,” T’karra said.

Carver cleared his throat. “Two things you should know before you go in there, T’karra. First off, the D’Aire had been celebrating, and all of them are still intoxicated by the chocolate they consumed.”

She sighed. “How much chocolate did they have?”

“Enough they can’t remember much. Two of them were basically carrying the third between them when the attack happened. They were right at the threshold of the sanctuary. A few more steps and this would have been my problem, not yours.”

“I think we both know whatever is going on, it’s directed at the sanctuary. At us.”

“I agree. And we’re going to talk about what that means for you and your people in a bit. There’s something else I should tell you before you go in there, though.”

“What?” she asked, clearly impatient to get started.

Hawke appeared in the doorway, his arm freshly bandaged and sporting an impressive looking bruise on his jaw. “He’s trying to warn you that the other guy who got hurt in tonight’s little dust-up was me.”

Brandt groaned inwardly. One day, Hawke would learn what tact was. Today was clearly not that day.

Hawke was tired of walking on eggshells around T’karra. She’d refused to acknowledge his existence since she’d found out who he really was. He’d understood why, but things were different now. She, her family, and the sanctuary were being targeted, and she was going to need all the help she could get, whether she wanted it or not. He was prepared for her to yell at him for being near her precious bar. He’d even accept it if she belted him. They were already in a med-bay, they’d just patch him up again. After a week of the cold shoulder, he’d rather deal with her anger than have her ignore him any longer.

“You are injured?” T’karra asked, walking up to him before gingerly touching her fingers to the edge of the bandage covering his cut.

“I...uh…it’s not serious,” he answered, thrown off his game by her gentle response.

“I can see that. I am assuming you were fighting against the ones who attacked my patrons and my people. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. You have this habit of thinking you are the only one responsible for those inside the sanctuary. You’re not. Every living soul on this station is my responsibility. I don’t care what race they are, or what part of the fucking station they happen to be in. If someone needs help, then I’m going to see they get it.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me, Hawke.”

“I don’t need
your
permission to do
my
job,” he answered, trying to ignore the pleasure he derived from simply having her touch him and say his name.