Freeker (4 page)

Warrant rolled to the side and came to a crouch. “What is it?”

She brought her aching arms down and shoved her dress past her crotch. Warrant’s brow winged up and he watched with avid interest, but when she didn’t reply, he didn’t ask again.

“You’re not one of Johnson’s women. Are you the fugitive they’re after?”

“How would I know what fugitive they look for? Who is ‘they’?” With as much dignity as possible she climbed to her feet and straightened her dress. Addicting, he’s said. Addiction. That’s what her memories fed, an expensive addiction to the designer drug, freeker. That was as sick and twisted as any murders they took offense at her committing. She sniffed and brushed at a wrinkle in the fabric at her thigh.

“Coy is a delectable look on you. Even if I don’t believe a word out of your tasty mouth.” Warrant shook his head but his expression remained pleasant. The fellow sure was tall. She bent her head back even further as he loomed over her and continued.

“We cannot be boarded by the authorities. Our entire family depends on us. That family is large. Over thirty of all together, the Scoriah, a mother and father, and a somewhat sister and her mate. You are only one.”

“I am,” she started but stalled, trying to remember her own family.

His purple eyes flashed. “My brothers are quite right in their decision to give you up. Humans aboard this ship would endanger us. They’re fine with shoving you out an airlock, but I’m a bit more patient. I’m willing to pursue other options than spacing you. Besides, if we do that, they’re still likely to board our ship and question our motives.”

“Good.” She gave one regal nod.

“However,” he drawled. “If we propose restraining you.” In a quick move she couldn’t follow and was too animal to be human, he wrapped his arms around her—trapping her against his body. “Then we can allow them to dock just long enough to remove you. No search necessary.”

“You’re not giving me back to them.”

“Ah, so you are the fugitive.”

She slammed her mouth shut.

“I really have no choice.” He ran a claw down the side of her face. Instead of hurting her, it was a caress. “Now. Let me see your wounds.”

The reminder made her sides burn so badly she gasped. Then she stilled. A wisp of a plan calmed her and she managed a thick, pain-laden voice and conjured up some tears. “Yes. It hurts.”

“I shall tend to it.” Warrant dipped, swung his arm behind her knees then lifted her against him.

“Oomph,” she exhaled against his chest.

“Relax,” he coaxed and with his hand—claws retracted—he shoved her face against his hard pectoral. Then he stalked out of the room carrying her.

His scent was alluring. There was an underlying element to it that reminded her of cooled sheets decorated with a few droplets of still-warm blood. She smiled against his skin and nipped at him. He jerked then his chest rumbled with that fascinating purr.

Other men—no, they had that same deep voice of the Scoriah—spoke as they passed. She didn’t watch where they went. It was a simple ship and she’d seen as much as she needed when she’d come aboard. Closing her eyes, she let herself go back to the memory that Warrant’s scent tantalized her with.

Sheets smeared with blood.

Her eyes popped open and she curled her fingers into a fist at the back of Warrant’s neck. She couldn’t find the memory. Only that momentary scent and that vision of sheets. The violence that had preceded it was gone. So was the release that had come with that violence. A hint remained of it, but it was gone.

She slammed her eyes closed and searched for the others.

Killer, murderess, cold-hearted, psychopath. She’d been called all of those things and she remembered her sentencing, to be used, to have her memories plumbed and her crimes taken away. It was gone. All of it. All that remained was a sense of accomplishment, that she’d fed her rage and reveled in it.

Gone. Huge gaps in herself. Her home. She couldn’t remember it. Looking deeper, casting about, searching desperately in her mind, she couldn’t find her family. She had one, didn’t she? Like Warrant, hadn’t she been deeply tied to her family?

Aching bitterness flowed and a sense of utter loss swamped her. She took a deep breath and throwing her eyes open, she clutched at Warrant’s neck and laid on a thick wail. “They took it from me. They took it all from me.”

“What? Who took it from you?”

“My joy. All my sweet memories. They’re gone.”

Chapter Three

Warrant gently settled Chara onto the mess hall table and tried to extricate himself from the agitated woman. “Sit here.”

“Don’t leave,” she insisted and didn’t let go. Her nails dug into the back of his neck but he easily brushed aside her hold. She was vicious, and he liked that, but he could handle her easily. He liked that even better.

“This is the fugitive? What’s she doing with her little claws in you?” Echtei stood off to the side of the mess and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at Chara.

Warrant’s cheekbones ridged in primal reaction. His chest puffed and his claws clanked on the metal box of the medical kit. The words growled out of him unbidden, “I had sex with her first.”

The entire mess went space-cold silent. Only after the utter stillness did he notice that everyone except for Tee stood there, staring at him, with their mouths open and eyes wide. Even Chara. Warrant shrugged and brought the kit back to the table. By the time he put it next to her, Chara had recovered and narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing?”

Warrant took the skin sealant out and stared at the blood stains on her dress. He’d done that. Should he be ashamed, or not? He wasn’t sure. After all, he didn’t hurt innocents but she’d attacked him. Puzzling out how to tend the cuts without removing her dress, he answered her question. “They’d know in minutes, anyway. Our scents are mingled. Plus, they knew I expected a visitor.”

“Why did you have sex with a fugitive? I thought you were hiring a woman.” Nick came forward.

“That part doesn’t matter,” Echtei interrupted. “We have a boarding party on its way.”

“They are not proper authorities.” Chara gave a haughty sounding sniff and raised her chin. “They are drug chemists. Thieves.”

“They have the proper station credentials,” Ursula interjected.

“Double check them,” Warrant urged her. His heart-sister nodded and, Grendel on her heels, went back to engineering and her preferred workstation.

“While you were busy,” Nick chuckled and gave a wink. If the moment weren’t so serious, Warrant would take the time to pounce on him and beat him until he mewled like a kitten. “The boarding party made headway on us. The boot has us in a quandary. It may not matter what you’d prefer happen because we can’t stop them from overtaking us and attaching.”

Echtei growled. “We can stop them from boarding, though. That ship couldn’t hold more than, what? Six men?”

“If we kill them,” Warrant shifted the knife in his hand. When had he palmed it? “Will they send something else after us?”

“Let’s kill them,” Chara urged. Her eyes gleamed as she watched his fingers twirling the blade.

“Bloodthirsty, isn’t she?” Echtei eyed Chara again and his appreciation of her brought another growl from Warrant. Echtei raised his hands, palms out. “Down, brother.”

He understood Echtei then and Echtei understood Warrant. His brother would stand by him no matter what came next. With a grunt, he nodded and carefully sheathed his knife. The others hadn’t said anything. They all seemed to be waiting. On edge.

Ursula came back and her frown didn’t ease Warrant’s tension. Grendel slid inside the door and with his arms across his chest, leaned against the wall.

“The credentials are bona fide but the search I’d started on the fugitive came back. We’re in a bind, here.” Ursula glanced at Chara. “She was sentenced to a special program that would put her in a coma for a medical re-programming rehabilitation trial. She’d agreed to it, herself, instead of being sent to the Pit.”

“That seems correct.” Chara canted her head and kept her attention on Ursula. She appeared curious about her own past.

“For murder,” Ursula added and raised a brow. His heart-sister wasn’t afraid of anyone, not even someone found guilty of murder. Neither was he. He smiled.

“Again, that seems correct.” Chara nodded.

“A year into her sentence, the family of another of the prisoners won an appeal that exposed the program as a farce. The prisoner was brought home but it was too late, he remains in a vegetative state. The rest of the sentences were commuted. The ones with families to claim them have returned home. All of them were permanently damaged. One is so calm that he forgets to eat. The violence had been bled away but everything about it was illegal. Chara was the last to enter the program and had stayed there the least amount of time. Probably why she doesn’t seem permanently harmed. Probably.”

Chara added tonelessly, “They harness the memories to create a drug that gives its users an adrenaline rush, a high. The users feel the build, the rage, the release.”

“That’s not possible,” Chaz said. He pushed away from the wall to the side of the room where he’d watched. His blond-tipped hair was still a shock to Warrant sometimes. But right now, his carefree nature wasn’t apparent. “Even if it were possible, why did they keep you there after the others were returned home?”

“It’s possible. But for your last question, I don’t know why they kept me.” Chara frowned and Warrant shifted toward her before he halted in place.

“It appears that the clinic was able to win an appeal to continue the program if a prisoner were unclaimed.” Ursula reached to Grendel and her mate gripped her hand. He was careful with his claws and didn’t hurt her. Otherwise he’d have six Scoriah piled on him and pounding him to dust.

Warrant glanced at Chara’s hand. His fingers tingled. Frowning, he glanced down at his own. It looked the same. His black claws were trimmed. Except for the abrasions he’d gotten when he’d punched the wall, his gray skin was remarkably unmarred at the moment. Gray, the same gray as the metal in the ship when they bought it. All that unrelenting gray had driven Ursula and Chaz to paint the mess hall and the nest area. Ursula’s room was painted too. If Chara stayed, would she want to paint Warrant’s room?

A strange husky sound came from his chest. It resembled a laugh but the utter surprise and panic inside him made it something new and unrecognizable. Nick slid to his side and knocked shoulders with him. “What’s all this about, brother?”

“Couldn’t say.” He really couldn’t. This unfamiliar emotion puzzled him. He didn’t know what it was but he didn’t like it.

“Not that this isn’t fascinating.” Tee entered the mess and strode to Chara. He stared down at her with hands on hips. Warrant growled, low and long. Tee quirked a brow but otherwise didn’t move other than to add, “But the boarding party has attached. They’ve demanded entry or they’ll start cutting the hatch open. If we’d had a little more warning, we could have shoved her out that hatch and avoided all this mess. Now we have to find a way to get them to detach.”

“Shoving her out of the hatch would have killed her,” Nick pointed out and Tee shrugged.

Warrant snapped his teeth and stepped between Tee and Chara. The mess erupted in a cacophony of snarls and grumbling threats.

“Crew, follow me.” Tee pointed at Chara. “Put her somewhere. Out of the way.”

Echtei, Nick, and Grendel followed Tee into the corridor and much as he’d rather knock Tee to his ass, he needed to protect the Scoriah interests. Grumbling, he turned to Chara. “Stay here. Take care of your injuries. I have to help secure the ship.”

Handing her the medicine wasn’t enough. He leaned into her and gave her a light kiss. It wasn’t usual for him to seek kisses but he still had to force himself to keep it quick. Blinking up at him, she seemed speechless. He grinned at that ability to confuse her. Turning on his heel, he jogged to catch up to Grendel. Grendel’s tail swished from beneath his kilt. His heart-brother was agitated.

In the first bay, Tee already had the false floor removed and had climbed down into the storage compartment. He hefted a box and handed it to a waiting Nick. Tee nodded at Warrant. “Hate to break into the gun shipment, but we may need these.”

Tee swung out of the smuggler’s hole and Nick pried open the box.

Warrant frowned and shook his head. “They are too old and have no safety tech. They could puncture the hull.”

“Doubtful.” Tee, hands on hips, watched as Grendel came forward.

Tail still swishing, Grendel glared at the guns. “Testing them now will kill us if you’re wrong.”

“What the hell? What’s she doing here?” Tee snarled then leapt past Warrant.

Warrant spun on his heel. He’d barely processed what had happened before rage poured through him.

Grendel grabbed his arm and growled, “Hold on.”

Warrant tugged free and crouched, eager to launch, eager to tear and rend.

Tee had Chara by the neck and lifted her off the ground. She hadn’t stayed put in the mess hall. Instead, she’d followed them. His brother snarled, “She has to die.”

“Like hell.” Warrant lunged.

*

Chara couldn’t breathe. Her vision went dark. Throat stinging, she clawed at the vice strangling her. Her body jerked and shook as if someone had picked her up and threw her about like a doll. Ringing sounded in her ears in a high pitch.

The vice around her neck suddenly let go and she fell to the floor.

A roar thundered through her head and drove out the ringing.

Her vision was blurry and her body ached but she made herself react, made herself find her bearing enough to pull into a crouch and blink the tears from her eyes. Two Scoriah struggled next to her. Their claws ripped at each other. They growled low and vicious.

A harsh clank shuddered through the floor. Coughing, Chara craned around to see what was going on. The woman, Ursula, re-sealed the floor. The creature next to her—one wearing some sort of red dress type thing—stomped on the floor, making sure the hole was securely covered.