Beneath a Trojan Moon (4 page)

Her eyes widened. “Yes.”

Hunt lifted his Sync off his belt and quickly called his deputies. “I’ve got a group of hostiles in the market. I need you to converge on my current location. And remember, I want them alive for interrogation. And check on Westin!”

Relda was running her hands up and down her arms.

Hunt pressed a hand to her shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t let them take you.

She didn’t look at him. “Thank you.”

“Something tells me you were holding your own.” She glanced at him now and again the swelling made his anger rise. “You need to get to a medbooth.”

She fingered her cheek. “I’m fine.”

A door banged open. Male voices filtered into the building.

“Come on.” Hunt grabbed her hand and headed in the opposite direction.

“There she is!”

“Don’t let her get away!”

Shit.
Hunt tugged Relda around a stack of boxes and found a back door. There was a gleaming bio-lock on it.

He didn’t have time to use his Marshal override to unlock it. Instead, he prayed his increased strength would be enough. He aimed his shoulder at the door and hit it at a run.

The lock broke, the door flung open, and they burst out into a quiet alley. There were no crowds to hide in here.

“There.” He pointed to a ladder leaning against the wall of one of the two-story buildings. He shoved Relda ahead of him and she raced up the ladder without hesitation. He quickly followed her up.

The men erupted into the alley, shouting.

“Faster, Relda.”

At the top, they raced along the rooftops. Hunt took a brief second to appreciate Relda’s mesmerizing grace. As they reached the end of the row of buildings, he paused to glance back.

Three men were racing toward them, weapons drawn.

With a grim frown, Hunt studied the gap. It was too far to jump, and there were no steps or ladders down. There was only a thin wire strung across alley that he guessed was used to hang laundry on.

“Marshal, I hope you have a plan,” Relda said.

He opened one of the pockets on his vest and pulled out a narrow coil of reinforced rope. “Trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“I’m not asking you to trust anyone. I’m asking you to trust
me
.” He opened his arms.

She studied him for a second before stepping in close and putting her arms around him.

Her feminine scent engulfed him—something smoky and spicy. “Hold on tight.”

As she wound a slim leg around him, threatening to destroy his concentration, Hunt slipped the rope over the wire running above the street.

Laser fire hit the roof three meters away from them and Relda let out a gasp.

Once he was certain she was holding tight, Hunt pushed off.

She let out a short yelp, her arms and legs tightening around him. Very soon, he planned to have her doing that…naked.

They zoomed across the alley, and people below called out and pointed. Relda pressed her face against his neck.

They reached the roof across the alley and Hunt ran a few steps on the tiles until he got his balance. “Made it.”

She lifted her head and gave a quick laugh. “You’re handy to have around, Marshal.”

His lips twitched. “And you haven’t seen my best skills yet.”

She smiled. “I bet.”

Across the alley, there were shouts. Hunt saw a group of his deputies on the roof, chasing Relda’s attackers. His hand curled into a fist. He wanted to chase the bastards down, but his first priority was to look after Relda.

“Come on. Time for that medbooth,” Hunt said.

“Really, I’m fine.” She released him and took a step back.

Then her knees gave out.

Hunt caught her before she fell and hauled her into his arms. She was a pleasant armful of curves. “You’re not fine. Medbooth. No argument.” He didn’t wait for a reply, he simply strode over to the set of steps leading down to the ground.

Darkness had fallen while the main hub of the market had restaurants and food stalls that stayed open late into the night, this part of the market was quiet.

He neared the closest medbooth. The box stood a little taller than he did and flashed with neon advertisements that contrasted sharply with the low-tech feel of Souk. He set Relda on her feet and pressed a palm to the booth. Its door swung open with a hiss.

Bright, white light glowed out. A simple bench was all that sat inside. “In you go.”

Relda sighed. “It won’t work on me.”

He frowned. He’d never heard of medbooths not working on anybody. “Explain.”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “It’s my secret to keep.”

Hunt stared at her lovely face. “Humor me. Get in the booth.”

She shrugged. “They’re your e-creds.” She stepped in, swept her skirts to the side and sat down.

The door closed and the machine hummed quietly. Hunt crossed his arms and waited impatiently. He sent a quick message to check in with his deputies. Received a message back that the attackers were still at large and Westin was okay.

Three minutes later, the medbooth beeped and Relda stepped out.

Her face still red, swollen and threatening to bruise. He brushed his fingers over the injury.

“Told you.” There are a smugness in her voice.

“So you did.” He swung her back into his arms.

“Marshal Calder—”

“Hunt.”

“Marshal—”

“
Hunt
.” Stubborn woman was going to have to learn he was just as tenacious as she was.

She huffed out a breath. “Fine. Hunt. I can walk.”

“Maybe. But I like carrying you.”

That shut her up. He turned into the alley where her house was located and then stopped at the two-story, cream-colored house with windows accented by black wrought iron and boxes filled with colorful flowers. As they neared, the front door was flung open.

“Relda!”

Four girls of differing ages—ten through late teens—hurried out. Concern and worry was stamped on their faces.

“I’m fine.” Relda waved them back inside.

Hunt stepped into the tiled entry.

“Yes. I see you’re doing very fine.” The oldest girl was staring at Hunt and smiling. She shifted her gaze to Relda. “Those men who attacked Alia came back, didn’t they?”

“They did.” Hunt made eye contact with each girl. “Everyone needs to be careful. Don’t go out alone and stick to crowded parts of the market. These men are dangerous.”

The girls all nodded and the older one cleared her throat. “Relda, I’ve already taken a tray of food to your room.”

“Thank you, Pria.” Relda’s tone was filled with warmth. “All of you get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Where’s your room?” Hunt said.

She looked like she was gearing up to argue.

“If you think I’ll just leave, think again. I have questions.”

Her nose wrinkled. It was probably wrong that he found that attractive. But there didn’t seem to be anything about her he didn’t find appealing.

“Besides, I want to get some ice on your cheek.”

She let out a gusty sigh. “You are incredibly stubborn.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“The upstairs is my own separate apartment.”

He took her up the stairs. It didn’t take him long to find her bedroom. The spacious room had her stamp all over it. The bed was large and covered in a spread the color of emeralds and piled high with pillows.

Low, backless sofas were clustered around a round table and through a door he saw a bathroom covered in creamy tiles and dominated by a deep tub.

He set her down on one of the sofas and strode into the bathroom. He came back with a wet cloth and sat beside her. He set to work cleaning her cheek. Moments later, a knock sounded and Pria came in. She left a small bowl of ice on the table, and left with a smile.

Hunt wrapped some ice in a second cloth and held it to Relda’s cheek. “This will help with the swelling.”

“How do you know old-fashioned first aid?”

“When you and your team are stuck in the middle of nowhere with no medbooths and no functioning medscopes, you soon learn simple, old first aid is better than bleeding to death.”

Green eyes watched him steadily. “Were you injured a lot?”

“Enough.” He had plenty of scars. And he’d lost many good soldiers over the years. Too many.

He didn’t plan to lose anyone else. “Who are you, Relda?”

She stiffened. “Relda Dela-Cruz.”

“Where are you from?”
Don’t lie to me, beautiful.

He was gratified that she hesitated this time. “I’m from Brielle Station.”

“Bullshit. There’s no record of a Relda Dela-Cruz before you turned up on Souk.”

She kept his gaze and lifted her chin. “I’m Relda Dela-Cruz from Brielle.”

Hunt swallowed his frustration. “What species are you?” He couldn’t see any sign that she was anything but human.

She leaned over to snag a grape from the tray of food on the table. “That’s an odd question, Marshal.”

He snagged a hand in her hair, wrapping the strands around his hand. Tight enough that she had to feel it. “I can’t help you if you don’t give me something…anything.”

Those jewel-green eyes seemed to glow in the low light. “I don’t need your help.”

Chapter Four

Relda felt a deep disquiet all the way to her bones.

She didn’t like it. She was used to being in complete control of her life.

Hunt made her feel things she hadn’t felt in so long. And didn’t want to feel.

“You do need my help,” he growled. “You’re in danger.”

He should have looked wrong or at least uncomfortable in her feminine space. It was filled with the little things she loved—candles, small crystal collectibles that caught the light, and vibrant, silk fabrics. Instead, her room just underscored how…male he was.

“Look Marshal, I’ve been getting along just fine without you in my life.” She set the ice down.

“But you don’t have anyone to protect you.”

No, not for so long
. “I can protect myself.”

He cocked his head. “You don’t let anyone close, do you, Relda?”

Damned perceptive, pushy man. She gave a scoffing laugh. “I have a houseful of girls…”

“And yet you’re lonely.”

She pushed to her feet. “I’m going to change. You can see yourself out.”

In the bathroom, Relda forced her breathing to slow and once her hands were steady, she took off her clothes and placed them in the hamper. She fingered the rip in her shirt. Damn, it wouldn’t be salvageable and it was her favorite.

She forced herself to set it aside. She was going to have to give up a lot of her favorite things when she moved on. She’d let herself care about too many things this time around. It was a valuable lesson.

With brisk strokes, she washed the remnants of blood and makeup off her face. Then she took her time and smoothed lotions onto her skin.

She tugged on her robe, a soft, dove-gray silk that looked like moonlight and then moved to one of the tiles on the wall. Touching the hidden pressure sensor, the tile swung open to reveal a state-of-the-art Rendarian safe coded to her biometrics. She’d paid a small fortune for it.

She touched the biopad and waited while it checked her DNA, then it opened. She pulled out what she was looking for and slipped the long silver chain over her neck.

The blue-gray diamond dangling from the bottom was a perfect orb about the size of one of the over-large marbles she’d seen Bindi and her friends play with in the street.

As the diamond sat against the skin between Relda’s breasts, absorbing her energies, the blue-gray color deepened at the edges, swirling like a storm, no doubt picking up on her mood. Tugging her robe closed so it covered the jewel, she left the bathroom.

Hunt was sitting on one of the low couches popping olives in his mouth.

“That’s my dinner,” she snapped.

“Figured there was enough to share.”

She ignored the way his gaze traced over her, from her bare feet to her even barer face. Without her makeup and clothes she felt…exposed. The thought made her spine stiffen. She headed to the couch opposite his and snatched a juicy, red berry from the platter.

“Is the Moon here?”

He just didn’t give up. And damned if she didn’t find that trait attractive. She didn’t respond.

“I did some research. After excluding the many references to objects orbiting bodies in Lagranian points—” he shot her a look “—I found a few obscure references to an artifact called the Trojan Moon.”

Her heart beat hard in her chest. She took a bite of the berry and watched Hunt’s gaze move to her lips.

“It’s said to be a Vega-Lyran artifact.”

She took another bite. Just hearing that name made her chest constrict.

“You know who the Vega-Lyrans were?” he asked.

She lifted a shoulder, this time deliberately letting her robe slip, baring her skin. She saw hunger ignite in those ice-blue eyes. “Some mythical psionic race.”

“I have access to some recently declassified military records.” He was watching her intently. “They weren’t mythical. They were an advanced psionic race who were incredibly powerful.”

“Really?” She kept her tone bland but almost choked on the berry.

“It was said they’d started out as a minor telepaths but used advanced genetic engineering to enhance their abilities. And over the centuries they succeeded. It’s said they could control the minds of thousands of people at once. They could move objects and create fire. And I mean large scale—they could move starships in space and burn down entire cities in an instant.”

“Sounds like a fairytale.”

“They were hunted down and exterminated. People were afraid of them.”

Relda looked toward the window and the moonlight filtering in. Sadness was a weeping wound in her belly. “That’s usually what people do when they’re afraid.”

“Why do you have a Vega-Lyran artifact?”

She looked at him now. “I never said I had it.”

“You also haven’t said you don’t. These people targeted you for a reason.”

“I don’t know why.” She dropped her gaze, feeling so tired. When had she gotten so sick of lying? Or was it that she just hated lying to him?

“They’ll keep coming whether you have it or not. Those girls downstairs aren’t safe here.”