Chase You To The Sun (14 page)

Bruce remained silent as he fell into step next to her. Lana wished he would say something – the unspoken words on his lips made her feel awkward and apprehensive. “How many oranges do you think we should pick?” she hazarded just to break the silence.

He looked sideways. “As many as we can fit into that basket,” he replied. “I’m making fresh juice.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll try my best.”

The heat was getting oppressive. It had to mean there was a thunderstorm coming – Lana remembered it from summer camp all those years ago. Tori and she had sat huddled together in their tree house, gaping at the flashes of lightning in the sky, marveling at the uncontrollable forces of nature all around them.

“We shouldn’t stay out for too long,” Bruce said at that moment. “It’s dangerous to be outside in a thunderstorm.”

Lana’s face fell. “Can’t we just stand in the rain for a few minutes?” she said disappointedly. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”

The tall pirate gave her an amused look. “You were?”

“Yeah. It’s so –
alien
.”

“Only a Ganymede-born girl would say such a thing,” he said, shaking his head.

“So where were you born?” Lana inquired. “Here on Earth?”

He frowned. “Don’t try to interrogate me.”

“How is this an interrogation? Am I shining a bright light into your eyes with you being tied to a chair?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “I may have said this before, but I think you’ve watched too many old movies.”

“So, you don’t want to tell me where you were born?” Lana concluded shrewdly.

They both slowed down as they reached the woods, finding the path between the trees that would take them to the clearing.

“Dublin,” Bruce finally said. “British Isles.”

Lana smiled. She didn’t ask him anything after that. Instead, she enjoyed this little victory in getting to know Bruce just a bit better.

When they reached the orange tree, Lana set down the basket and looked up at Bruce expectantly. “Who’s gonna climb up there?”

“You,” he replied calmly. “I’ll hold up the basket.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Never said I was gentle.”

Lana shrugged, wrapped both hands around the lowest branch and hauled herself up. Despite her lack of exercise in recent years, she was still good at climbing trees. With a little, smug smile of satisfaction, she registered the surprised look on Bruce’s face as she clambered up like a monkey. He hadn’t expected this little Ganymede princess to be able to pull it off so easily. “Ready?” she shouted, dropping the first few sour oranges into the basket he was holding up.

“Ready and steady,” he confirmed.

Lana worked her way around the entire tree, sticking to the lowest branches, until all the ripe fruit there was gone. When she risked venturing out a bit higher, she could feel the first few drops of rain on her head.

“You should come down,” Bruce said. “The rain is gonna make the branches slippery.”

“In a minute.” Lana tossed down a few more oranges, sucking in her breath when one of them hit Bruce on the head. “Uhm – sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to bite back a nervous giggle.

“Oh, you will be,” he said, rubbing his head as he shot her a dark smile.

“Maybe I won’t come down then.”

“I’m a patient man. Unless you want to live out the rest of your life in that tree, you’ll find me here.”

“It was an accident,” she said, getting a bit frightened. “I didn’t mean to hit you.” Lana searched his eyes for a trace of compassion when she suddenly caught a glint of mischief in them. Bruce was just trying to yank her chain, for crying out loud.

He set down the basket of fruit with a little smile. “Come down here. You don’t want to be caught in a downpour.”

Lana bit her lip. As she climbed back down, her one foot slipped on a branch she was using for support. Bruce was right – it
was
dangerous to climb trees in the rain. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled as she lost grip. With a scream, she skidded down, frantically seeking purchase with her hands.

A pair of strong hands gripped her hips. “Hey,” Bruce said. “I’ve got you.”

Lana exhaled. He slowly lowered her with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree, her face at eye level with his. And then he set her down, her feet back on solid ground, his body still inches from hers. She shivered as his hands slid up to her waist, her heart kicking up a beat when Bruce gazed into her eyes.

He dipped his head and lightly brushed the sore spot next to her nose with his lips. It was as though he was trying to undo the pain he’d inflicted on her. Lana resisted the urge to lift her face and meet his lips in a soft kiss. Bruce was so adamant he wasn’t a nice guy that she should probably heed his warning. “Thanks for catching me,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “You’re welcome. I’m still cross at you for throwing oranges at me, though.”

“But not mad enough to let me break my leg?”

Bruce sighed, a sudden look of exasperation crossing his face. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Lana swallowed, staring intently at the V-neck of his sweater. “I know.”

“We have to get back inside,” his voice rumbled above her as the rain started to come down more heavily, rustling the leaves above their heads in a sound so sweet it transported her back to the summers of her youth.

“Not yet,” she replied almost pleadingly. “I just want to – listen.”

“The youth lies awake and harks to the musical rain,” Bruce said cryptically. It took her a few seconds to realize he was quoting Walt Whitman.

“Yeah, something like that,” Lana agreed. “Walt knew what he was talking about.”

They stood there, raindrops trickling through the canopy of leaves, slowly soaking their clothes until the air between them thickened, tingling with expectation. Bruce leaned into her, his hand softly stroking her hip before traveling up to cup her breast. When she didn’t protest, his mouth brushed her lips, teasing her with sweet temptation as his warm breath mingled with hers. Lana exhaled shakily as Bruce slid his hand into her neck. “You still want this?” he said hoarsely, looking at her from up close.

“Yes,” she sighed.

He closed his eyes for a second. “You silly girl.” And then he crushed her lips with his mouth, making her whimper in desire and agony at the same time as pain shot through the sore corner of her mouth where his hand had struck her. Despite the sting in her lip, Lana slipped her arms around his waist and drew him in, kissing him back with such fervor that she made him moan softly. Her skin turned warm and slick in the summer rain as she ran her hands up and down his back. He felt strong and dangerous and much too alluring.

Bruce was the first one to pull away from their kiss. He stared down at her, his lips slightly parted and his breathing shallow. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he wanted to know, a tone of quiet wondering in his voice.

“I am,” she acknowledged with a tremble.

“So you do realize I’ll hurt you more if your father doesn’t stick to his promise?”

Lana bit her lip. “Yes.”

“Then why...” He didn’t finish his sentence, just looked at her in puzzlement.

“Because I can feel you don’t enjoy it.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued: “And because I know you don’t want to.”

Bruce’s eyes hardened. “Are you gonna tell
him
that?”

The silence stretched between them. “I might,” she finally admitted. “I’m sorry.”

Abruptly, he took a step back, pointing at the basket of oranges. “Let’s just get this back to the house,” he said, slipping his hand around one of the handles. “I’m getting cold.”

“Have – have I said something wrong?” she stammered. “I was just being honest.”

He shot her a sideward glance, his gray eyes burning into hers. “Everything about this situation is wrong,” he replied, tilting his head at the basket. “Grab the other handle, will you?”

She silently obliged. As they marched back to the house, Bruce’s words were still singing around in her head. He was absolutely right – everything was wrong. And yet, she didn’t seem to be able to step away from it. And neither could he.

S
vetlana decided to hang around with Hikaru and Shou for the rest of the afternoon. Bruce had gone upstairs to change and then steered clear of her by disappearing into his study. John and Chester had left – undoubtedly on their way to whatever it was they’d been looking at on those star charts. The Japanese brothers had chosen the coffee table to dismantle some kind of electronic device on which Shou called a scrambler. 

“We salvaged it from the wreck of an old Desidan patrol vessel,” Hikaru explained. “Blew the ship to bits, but apparently they build those gadgets out of titanium.”

“What do they do?” Lana asked curiously.

“They scramble tracking on other ships,” Shou explained.

“Why would Desidan patrols want to fly under the radar?”

The Japanese man looked up at her wearily. “The Elite always have things to hide.”

“But the Alliance is neutral. They’re supposed to police the other states.”

“They’re just trying to get a grip on everyone and everything,” Hikaru grumbled. “You think they give a shit if they encounter injustice? As long as they benefit, they turn a blind eye.”

“I’ve met some really decent Desidans,” Lana protested. “Commander Aataaq of Desida One is a very nice guy.”

“Well, the world isn’t such a black-and-white place,” Shou commented. “You of all people should know that.”

Lana arched an eyebrow. “Me of all people? How so?”

He snorted. “You with your enormous, purple hickey. I guess Bruce isn’t quite as appalling as you thought, is he?”

“How would you...” Her face turned red. “Maybe he forced me.”

“Nah.” Shou shook his head firmly. “You didn’t look too raped to me when you skipped down the stairs this morning. I mean, if it helps you sleep to think you were coerced, be my guest. But you don’t fool me.”

Lana’s next retort died on her lips. Of course, he was absolutely right. “No, he isn’t that appalling,” she mumbled. “I can actually see why you like working for him. Despite his violent tendencies.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s a reasonable man. And he seems – honest.”

“And yet you still think he’s lying to you about your father’s business,” Hikaru muttered under his breath, prodding the partly dismantled scrambler with a sharp utensil.

“I don’t know,” Lana replied miserably. “Maybe he just got his facts wrong. My dad said it was complicated.”

“Life ain’t easy,” Shou deadpanned.

“Well, I haven’t gotten the chance to really talk to him yet,” Lana objected. “Bruce keeps our video calls short. This morning, he hit me so hard that I couldn’t get two words in before he shut off the monitor again.”

“Well.” Shou looked down at his hands with a shrug. “Bruce doesn’t need you to believe him, honey.”

With a shock, Lana realized that Shou wasn’t entirely correct. Of course Bruce didn’t
need
her to believe him – but he wanted her to, anyway. He felt the need to share things with her.

And that was what had drawn her in. Bruce was tough as nails, but he was also very human. He might be a killer, but he was certainly not ruthless or sadistic like John. No man quoting Walt Whitman from the top of his head was a heartless monster. The man who’d had sex with her last night had no longer been a cold-blooded criminal in her presence. He’d been gentle – more or less.

“I’m going to squeeze out the oranges,” she announced, getting up from the couch. “Bruce wanted to use them for juice.”

Quickly, she retreated to the kitchen to be alone for a while and think things over. Shou was right – nothing was as black-and-white as she’d been made to believe. She was dying to talk to her dad again, or at the very least, find out more about the situation on Prometheus. What did she actually know about the mines? Had she ever been invited to have a look around in the family business? She didn’t think so – which was odd, given the fact she was an Ivanov as well as a student of business economics. Moreover, the Promethean gemstone trade was a very important element of the Elite monetary system. The more she thought it over, she more she couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something not quite right about the whole situation. But
slavery
? How could she even consider the possibility her father would go along with something sordid like that?

Lana switched on the juicer and popped in the orange parts from the fruits she’d peeled so far, the whirring sound of the appliance drowning out her confused thoughts.

When the kitchen door swung open and Bruce stepped over the threshold, she looked up with a start. “I hope you don’t mind I’m making the juice,” she said, her voice artificially bright. “You were busy, so...”

A faint smile crossed his face. “No, I don’t mind. Gotta go anyway. John and Chester just called in to confirm delivery.”

“Of what?” Lana blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Recent recordings of the insides of the Ivanov Mines,” Bruce replied, his face expressionless.

Her mouth fell open. “What are you talking about?
Nobody
is allowed to film in there. It’s a Russian government facility.”

“That’s why I bribed someone to do it. I’ve been very generous.”

“What do you need those recordings for?” she asked nervously.

Bruce fixed her with his gaze. “I need them in case things don’t work out.”

“In what way?”

“If your daddy doesn’t listen to me, I might need something else to convince the Desidan authorities that our society is rotten at the core.”

So he was already contemplating a plan B. If her father didn’t obey Bruce’s orders, this criminal would have to dispose of her – there was no doubt about it. “Oh,” she whispered, a sudden feeling of sickness flooding her entire body.

The tall, blond pirate avoided her anxious gaze, looking suddenly a bit unsure of himself. “Add some sugar to it,” he said, gesturing at the squeezed juice. “Might be too sour otherwise.”

Lana took a deep breath. He wasn’t about to discuss the events that would lead to plan B. “Can I see them?” she whispered. “The recordings.”