Justin (5 page)

She looked Justin straight in his Shareem-blue eyes. “All right. Let’s go. Where to next?”

Justin looked briefly surprised, as though he hadn’t expected her to agree. Then his smile flashed again. “You have guts, Deanna. I’ll give you that.”

His tone was so admiring that Deanna found herself flushing with pleasure. She had no business flushing with pleasure, but she couldn’t help it. His smile was so warm, his gaze all for her.

He held out his hand. “Come on then.”

Deanna looked at his callused palm then back up at him in amazement. “I’m a patroller. I can’t go walking around holding hands with a Shareem.”

“Aw, poor thing.” Justin wriggled his fingers then he lowered his hand to his side. “You’ll just have to keep up then.”

He turned abruptly and strode away, his long legs taking him swiftly into the Pas City crowd.

Deanna jogged after him. The man moved
fast
.

Justin ducked into a shaded alley full of vendors selling all kinds of cloth and inexpensive jewelry. Silk and gauze of all shades spilled from boxes and carts, semiprecious stones and silver glimmered from others. The woman in Deanna wanted to slow down and browse. The patroller in her needed to keep her quarry in sight.

Justin stopped in front of a vendor selling veils similar to those that highborn women wore—fabric that could merely frame the face or be pulled across eyes, nose, and mouth to keep out dust.

Justin was lifting a crimson veil from the table when Deanna panted up to him. “Wait,” she said breathlessly.

“This would look nice on you,” Justin said.

Before Deanna could protest, he draped the silk over her head and crossed the ends over her chest.

The silk brushed Deanna’s face, the fabric touching her like a whisper. The vendor motioned to a mirror propped up on his table, and she couldn’t resist taking a look.

Deanna, used to the drab gray of her patroller’s uniform—which she wore with pride—was surprised at what she saw. The red of the veil brought color to her cheeks and made her eyes look darker. Her black hair, though drawn back tightly as usual, looked soft where it peeped out from under the veil. The silk complemented her hair rather than hid it, rendering it a brush of darkness beneath the cloth.

“This is lovely.” The words came out before she could stop them.

“How much?” Justin asked the vendor.

“Twenty.”

Deanne reluctantly slid off the veil and shook her head. “No, I can’t afford . . .”

She faltered as Justin took a credit strip from his pocket and handed it to the vendor. The vendor zipped it through his handheld and made the transaction before Deanna could complete her sentence.

“Justin, you can’t do that.”

“I just did.” Justin took his credit strip back, plucked the veil from Deanna’s hands, and set it back over her head, laying the crossed ends over her shoulders.

“I can’t accept this,” Deanna said. “You can’t
bribe
me.”

The vendor glanced at Justin and Deanna then turned quickly around to talk to a customer on the other side of his booth. He didn’t want to know.

“Not a bribe,” Justin said, perfectly serious. “A gift. What would I be bribing you for anyway? I already got out of jail.”

“For me to look the other way at whatever else you’re up to.”

Justin straightened the edge of the veil against Deanna’s cheek, his fingers warm on her skin. “I’m giving you the veil because it looks pretty on you.”

It did look nice. Too nice. Deanna shook off his touch and pulled the fabric from her head again, but she balled the silk in her hand and didn’t return it to the vendor.

Justin had already started to walk away. Deanna hastened after him, swearing under her breath. Anyone who believed Shareem weren’t masters of manipulation hadn’t met Justin.

He didn’t go far. She caught up to him when he stopped at a coffee vendor’s and ordered two cups of thick Bor Nargan coffee, which was grown in the northern mountains. People came from planets far, far away to get Bor Nargan coffee.

A rare open space beyond the coffee vendor’s stall provided tables. Justin deftly took one from three workers who were leaving and set down a coffee for Deanna. He waited for her to sit first at the high table, but she really shouldn’t sit down in public with him. She was the patroller, he the former prisoner.

But he’d stand there all day waiting, she realized, so she plopped into a seat.

She snatched up the coffee and drank, closing her eyes at the taste of the deep, rich brew. He’d bought the top of the line—at least, as top of the line as you could get in Pas City.

Deanna opened her eyes to find Justin sitting across the table from her. He kept his gaze on her while he took a sip from his own cup.

He didn’t do anything radical with that sip—he simply drank the coffee. But the way he drank it . . . He took it lovingly into his mouth, closing his eyes while he savored the taste. His throat moved in a slow swallow, then he slid his tongue over his lips to catch any lingering drop.

Deanna’s knees went weak, something hot stabbing the space between her legs. The man couldn’t do anything without being over-the-top sensual.

He opened his eyes and carefully set down his cup. “Wear the veil.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. Not while I’m in uniform.”

Justin moved his gaze to her coverall where it hugged her bosom. “Patrollers live in those uniforms. You should have said,
not while I’m on duty.
Are you?”

Deanna rolled her cup between her palms. “No.”

“Why not?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Being a patroller was Deanna’s life. She’d been a patroller since she’d graduated from the academy, had moved up the chain with ease. She stood to be promoted soon.

Until Justin.

She clutched the cup while humiliation crawled through her. “This morning, I was told to take a leave of absence.”

She waited for Justin’s laugh, his satisfied glee, but he watched her without changing expression. “I thought they were only holding up your promotion.”

“Today they decided I should take a few days off while they look into my performance and decide what to do.”

“Fucking patrollers,” Justin growled.

Deanna shrugged, shoulders shaking a little. “It’s procedure. I screwed up.”

“Don’t justify it. The arrest was legit, and we both know it.”

“They’re embarrassed and looking for someone to blame. I guess Brianne d’Aroth’s word carries a lot of weight.”

To her surprise, Justin grinned in true mirth. “I believe it. I haven’t known Bree long, but I can see that she gets her own way. She’d have to have that kind of moxie, to put up with Aiden and Ky.”

“Moxie? What does that mean?”

“Word I picked up on Sirius. Means she has balls, guts, lots of determination.” Justin leaned forward. “You do too, I’m thinking. Wear the veil. To hell with them.”

She shouldn’t. Deanna had learned from day one,
Respect the uniform.

Patrollers never went off duty, not really. They kept their eye out for crime every minute they were awake. Deanna had an alarm next to her bed wired straight from the stationhouse so they could wake her whenever she was needed.

Patrollers kept the streets safe for citizens of Bor Narga. Off-worlders came here by the ton, beings from all over the galaxy, and not all of them respected Bor Nargan laws. Deanna had stood between off-world rioters and the homes of Bor Nargans more than once, fought a slaver hand-to-hand when he was getting ready to abscond with two children. She’d hauled his sorry ass to her cells and got him transported to a maximum security station to await trial. Which he’d lost. Served him right. Scumbag.

Deanna
was
her uniform. She’d given her life to the patrollers, believed in what they stood for.

And they’d cold-shouldered her the minute she’d made a mistake. Which hadn’t been a mistake. Her prisoner was admitting his guilt.

But it didn’t count, because all the ruling family had to do was say a word, and it was Deanna who paid.

Deanna shook out the veil with an angry jerk, laid it over her head and wrapped the ends around her throat.

Justin smiled. “Mmm. Beautiful.”

“The silk is nice.” Nicer than anything she owned.

“I meant
you
are beautiful. Take the compliment, Deanna.”

When he said it in that velvet voice, Deanna wanted to believe it.

“Tell me what you were researching at the library,” she said.

He shook his head. “Damn, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

“I always get my prisoner.”

“I bet you do. How about, instead of talking about me, we talk about you. Who are you Deanna Surrell? Why are you a patroller?”

Easy to answer, if he wanted to play this game. “It’s what I always wanted to do.”

“What, your mother gave you a pistol and a badge when you were five, and you went around the house arresting your dolls?”

She flushed. “Yes, actually. Something like that. But I’d wanted to be a patroller before that. My mother was just humoring me.” Deanna had wanted her mother to be so proud. And her mother was, the rare times she could communicate.

Justin took another sip of coffee, another lesson in sensuality. “So you went to the academy,” he said. “Were you top of the class?”

“No.” But pretty damn good. “I won a marksmanship medal.”

“Shit, no wonder you got me. If you’d been shooting with a regular gun, I’d be dead.”

“You would be,” Deanna said. “But I’m not a killer. I subdue the target but keep him alive.”

“And drag him to the cells to interrogate him.”

“And make sure he’s well cared for in my custody. Wounds healed, nutrition taken care of, no abuse. Some of the patrollers can be . . .”

Deanna closed her mouth over the criticism. Fine to complain within the division, bad to spill about it to a civilian, especially a Shareem.

“Yeah, I know how the patrollers can be,” Justin said. “What makes you such a sweetie?”

“I’m not. I do my job.”

He grinned. “So all Bor Nargans can rest easy in their beds?”

“Patrollers swear to protect and defend the ordinary citizens of Bor Narga. That’s what I do.”

“From the big, bad Shareem?”

“If necessary. What were you doing up on the Vistara, Justin?”

Justin raised his hands, still grinning, but his gaze became wary. “I told you, love. What Shareem do.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“The usual. Look it up.”

“I’m asking
you
. No evasions and half-truths. I want to know, in every detail, why you decided to go to the Vistara two mornings ago and what you intended to do there.”

His smile vanished. “If I tell you, then what? You arrest me again?”

“I don’t have the power to arrest you at the moment.” Deanna’s fingers curled on the table. “But if you were breaking the law, or intending to, you don’t get to go free.”

“What if I promise you no laws would have been broken?”

“In that case, you can tell me what you what you were going to do.”

Justin turned his head to study the nearby stalls overflowing with spices and exotic fruits. Deanna saw in his eyes, in the moment before he turned away, a flash of deep pain.

“I’ll think about it,” he said.

“I’m a patroller. I’m questioning you. You have to answer me.”

When Justin turned back, the pain she’d glimpsed had vanished, and she wondered whether she’d imagined it.

“You were given a leave of absence,” he said. “So you’re a civvy right now, same as me.”

“Justin,” she said in exasperation.

He leaned forward, his gaze all for her. “I like it when you say my name like that. Your face gets all soft, and you lose the stick up your ass. It’s like you want to talk to
me
.”

“I do want to talk to you. Why won’t you
tell
me?”

“Because you want to know so bad.” He smiled again, a hot, melting smile. “I’m level two, sweetie. I tease, I drive you crazy, you beg for me, and I give you what I know you want.”

When he said
beg for me,
Deanna had a sudden vision of herself on her knees, her hands bound together by her new silk veil, she asking Justin to do whatever he liked with her.

She also remembered her dream of him tied up on the chair, ropes snaking around his aroused cock while he instructed her to get undressed. She squirmed in her seat.

“Like that,” Justin said in a low, warm voice.

Deanna hopped down from her stool. “Cease.”

“I’m not doing anything. I’m drinking coffee.”

“Yes, you are. You’re
Shareem
-ing me.”

Justin burst out laughing, a true laugh, not a teasing one. Passing women glanced over and smiled.

“Shareem-ing you. I have to remember that one.”

Deanna’s face went hot. “You know what I mean. What you do with your smiles, and your sips of coffee, and touching me with your pheromones.”

“I swear to you, baby, I’m keeping my pheromones to myself. You, on the other hand, are sending out signals like crazy.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re thinking about something that involves me, and it’s making you want me.”

“You are an arrogant, son of a . . .
vat
. I do not want you.”

“Yes, you do. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He was, and she’d never admit it.

“Go home, and stay there,” Deanna said swiftly. “If I catch you going to the Vistara again, I swear to the gods I’ll shoot you in the ass, and I won’t use a stun gun this time.” The veil brushed her cheek as she gesticulated, and she started to slide it off. “And take this back. I don’t want it.”

Justin’s hands stilled hers. “Yes, you do.” He smoothed the veil back into place, and Deanna stood, frozen, while his fingers brushed her cheek. “You deserve it for putting up with me.”

His touch was warm. Deanna found it hard to breath, while at the same time her heart pounded sickeningly hard. She wanted to turn her head and lick the side of his thumb, maybe take his fingertip into her mouth.

Justin brushed her cheek again, his gaze holding hers. Deanna’s body was warm, pliant, the secret wanting she tried to banish twining her in an impossible grip.