No Mercy (6 page)

H
ell had him by the short and curlies. Zan's heart pounded, lost in darkness so black he couldn't tell if his eyes were open or shut. Xander's laugh like a snake slithering through dead leaves, coming closer, ever closer. He had to get away, to get Gia away before they were found. Their pursuer wouldn't care that she was a woman, would use that to hurt him. Just like he'd used Isabella. . . .

 

Xander laughed as the man flung up her skirts, shoved inside of her while the pool of blood on the floor spread on and
on
. . .

 

A tortured scream woke him from his nightmare. A woman's desperate cry. Lunging to his feet he cursed himself for leaving her alone, as he half ran, half skidded through the tunnel to the hot spring where he'd left her sleeping. Glancing down, he checked the battery on his laser pistol. It'd been full when he'd left the ship, and he hadn't used it, but the weapon wasn't designed for the extreme cold. A misfire could kill him, but if Gia had been caught, he'd take the risk. Better to blow them both to the inferno than wait for Xander's torture.

The tunnel opened up into the cavern with the hot springs, the light from the bioluminescent critters in the pool so bright he had to give his eyes a moment to adjust. Gia cried out again and he saw her, swaddled in the thermal blanket on the flat rock, where he'd left her. No sign of a threat. What was she screaming about?

It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. His memories—Gia was battling the same demons that had held him in thrall. He thought it would have been easier if she'd been under attack from the outside, because the darkness he carried in the pit of his soul wasn't something everyone could handle.

Sometimes he wondered why he hadn't been crushed by the unbearable weight of it all.

Stowing his sidearm, he moved next to where she slept. Perspiration dotted her skin, her forehead wrinkled, her expression pained. “No, don't! Please!”

“Gia.” He reached for her shoulder, giving her a shake. “Gia, wake up. You're having a nightmare.”

The words were moronically trite but effective. Gia sat straight up, eyes wide, hands shaking, just as his had been in the dream. She looked like a frightened child. Zan shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her. “It's all right, just a bad dream. Can't hurt you none.”

“It felt so real,” she whispered, sounding lost.

“Just a dream,” he repeated. Ill at ease as something heavy seethed in his gut. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was guilt. Couldn't be though. Technology had fucked them over when her health guard failed. He hadn't forced this burden on her.

Yet an insidious inner voice whispered that if he hadn't sought her out in the first place, she would still be on the empath home world, enjoying the sunset, instead of huddled in an ice cave, waiting to die with him.

“Isabella,” Gia mumbled, and he flinched. Large green eyes peered up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Who is Isabella?”

“Damned if I know.” Zan lied easily, even though he felt as if someone had jettisoned all his innards into the abyss at the sound of her name. No way was he going to rip open that old wound, even if she had a right to know. To distract them both he took his arm away and started rooting around in her bag. “I'm hungry. You got any more of that purple goop?”

Gia blinked a few times, as though coming fully awake. “Nutri gel, and yes, it's in the front pouch.” Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself she reached for the bag.

He handed it over without a fuss and exhaled. Fuck, this was too complicated, keeping the truth from her. On some level she must sense that he wasn't being entirely honest with her; she was incredibly perceptive and deeply suspicious of him. As she should be.

Who the hell was he to keep unpleasant realities from her? They weren't friends or lovers. Sure they'd collided a few times, but that was just hormones, a fact she'd made clear when she'd turned her back on him last night. She didn't need his comfort or pretty little lies. No, Gia was using him to scratch an itch, the same way he'd used her. Protecting her wasn't his job, and from what he'd seen the woman could take care of herself.

“Isabella was my wife.” The words came out before he was fully aware of the decision to speak them.

Her head whipped around. “So that was
your
dream?”

“My memory,” he corrected. “Xander had her raped and tortured to death, made me watch the whole thing. We're in his system, on his planet. That's why I checked out on you yesterday.”

She started at him a moment, her expression unreadable. He silently begged any deity that might be eavesdropping to keep her from offering him sympathy. He didn't think he could take it without losing the tiny shred of control he still held.

A minute ticked by, their gazes locked. He saw the instant she came to a decision because Gia nodded crisply, then handed over one of the nutri supplements she had clutched in her fists. “So Hosta is his space?”

Zan took the vial but didn't drink it. She didn't need to know the extent of his relationship to Xander, and for some reason he didn't want to tell her. “Yeah. He's one of the big baddies I was warning you about, who would kill you because you have my memories.”

She sat down facing him, rolling her own unopened vial between her palms. Her thermal blanket gaped and he saw her bare legs, pale as the moonlight on fresh snow. Despite the discussion his cock stirred with renewed interest. He downed his own vial and glanced away, sure of the guilt this time. Here he sat talking about his wife who'd been tortured to death and still his body wanted Gia's. The way they fit together was nothing short of miraculous, and coming inside her gave him precious moments of reprieve when he didn't have to plot or scheme. Free from worry for the first time in a century.

No wonder he craved Gia. It wasn't really her he wanted, only the relief she offered, the first he'd known since the death of his wife. He closed his eyes, apologizing to Isabella for his weakness. He'd loved her, had suffered without her, and was looking down the barrel of only more misery to come.

“What do we do now?” Gia's soft question broke him from his inner turmoil.

Zan appreciated the fact that she didn't dwell on his lies or probe at his wounds but focused on saving their hides. “I'm open to suggestions.”

“We need transportation. On the ground we're seriously outnumbered, but in space we'd stand a fighting chance.”

“Do you think there's any hope in retrieving the stinger?”

Gia popped open her own vial, knocked it back, and dipped her foot in the water. She stared out over the distance at some point unseen. The swirl of her toes was incredibly erotic. He wanted to suck them dry and work his way up.

She shook her head, her expression tinged with sadness. “I don't see how.”

The small starship had been her home. “I'm sorry you lost it.”

She nodded, accepting his words. The corner of her mouth kicked up. “But not sorry you kidnapped me?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Seems as though I'm addicted to you, and I reckon you are getting mighty used to me too. How I make you feel. What do you say, Gia? Ready for your next fix?”

 

Gia stared into Zan's golden eyes, totally mesmerized. How could he change gears so fast? She'd felt how much he'd loved Isabella, had experienced his fear for her and the blinding rage at her death firsthand. No matter how nuclear hot the sex was between them, how could he possibly want her when he'd just relived loss like that?

And part of her, a small, petty part that she didn't want to fully acknowledge, didn't like playing at his consolation prize. First Gen and now the memory of a beloved wife competing for his attention. Gia didn't play games she stood no chance of winning, and the thought of Zan picturing her as someone else while he fucked her shredded something tender inside her. Though he might be an awesome lay, so were plenty of other men in the galaxy. In order to find them, she needed a ship to get off this planet, out of this system.

Decided, she reached for her uniform and started yanking it on beneath the thermal blanket. No need to tease him with goods no longer in his price bracket. “We should head out.”

Zan gripped the blanket and tugged it off before she had her arms in the sleeves of her flight suit. “I don't believe you comprehend the full ramifications of our situation. We ain't got no place to head to.”

Dear God, if Xander didn't get him the grammar police would. She didn't even fight him for the blanket, just zipped herself up and sat down to pull on her socks. “If we stay here we'll eventually run out of food. I'd rather take my chances trying to steal a ship than waiting for either Xander to locate us or our food to run out while we starve to death.”

“There ain't no ships to steal, at least not in walking distance.” Zan stared at her as though she said she wanted to run naked through the wilderness.

“How long since you've been here?” she asked, lacing up her boots. Thankfully they had mostly dried out from yesterday's trek.

“About five decades,” he admitted.

“That's a long time. Things might have changed since the last time you were here. You don't have to come with me.”

“Don't be stupid.” Zan glared at her.

“Don't call me stupid. Unlike you, I haven't given up yet.”

His eyes narrowed. “You calling me a quitter?”

“I'm sure you've been called worse. Now give me my blanket back, because I'm pulling up stakes. Lead, follow, or get the hell out of my way. Do not obstruct.”

“You don't understand what Xander will do to us. Alien women are sold at auction to the highest bidder. That's if he doesn't kill you on sight.”

“Why are you so sure he will catch us? How could he even know you are here? Does he have some kind of tracking ability? Some psychic connection to you? If so, do me a favor and lead him off in another direction.”

“Why you got to be so damn uppity? We're safe here for the time being. Once we take down that parachute and head out into the wild, the game turns deadly.”

She didn't tell him that she knew all about deadly games. “You can't win if you don't roll the dice.”

His brows drew together. “Dice?”

She kept forgetting he wasn't from Earth. Everything about him appeared human, with maybe a dash of something a little exotic thrown in. “Little cubes with numbers on them. Used for games of chance.”

He shook his head. “Your dice won't save you from Xander.”

She huffed out a breath. “You're not listening to me. I'm not the kind of girl who sits around waiting for a miracle to happen. I make my own luck. Now, either get dressed and come with me or sit here and rot. Either way, I am leaving this cave in five minutes.”

He stared at her for a minute, his expression totally unreadable. Her stomach churned and she silently prayed that he'd stick with her. She'd gotten used to him being nearby, sparring with him. Having sex with him was an excellent distraction from their dire circumstances.

Zan was a pirate, and she was sure on occasion he'd been a killer. But more than that he was a survivor. She'd pegged him for a man who valued his own life above all else. Surely he would come with her.

“You go on then,” he said, either unwilling or unable to meet her gaze.

Hiding her disappointment, she picked up her bag. “I'll divide up the remaining supplies.”

He didn't argue, and the vague notion that he was making some sort of noble sacrifice vanished. By rights they were
her
supplies; he'd kidnapped her, and he really wasn't entitled to anything. But she couldn't walk away and let him die.

Making quick work of the job, she repacked her own bag, strapped it to her shoulders. “I'll leave the parachute up, blocking the entrance. Though if the snow starts to melt, it'll probably draw attention to you.

“Snow tends to stick around here,” he said.

Quit stalling! He's not going to change his mind.
No matter how much she might want it. “Well then, I guess this is good-bye.”

That dark, roguish stubble on his chin had grown scruffier. He scratched it idly, as though he didn't have a care in the cosmos. “Looks like it.”

She turned away, then half turned back. Over her shoulder she called, “I'm sorry about what happened to your wife.”

Not waiting for an answer, she set off through the tunnel to the mouth of the cave. Batting aside the parachute and some loose snow that fell on it, she ducked her head against the wind and set off.

She never had gotten the hang of a graceful exit.

W
ithout Gia there offering him a distraction, Zan started to pace. He'd done the right thing by both of them. If she was found, his father would have no way of knowing she was with him unless she brought it up, and she was too smart to do that. Being sold as an alien slave wasn't a pleasant fate by any means, but it was better than what his father would do to her if he discovered her connection with Zan or the Infinity Pool. And if Xander discovered him, Zan wouldn't mention the stinger pilot and hope she remained hidden.

The most disturbing thought circling through his head was that he was even concerned with the “right thing.” It wasn't his style to worry about anyone's skin but his own. But since he'd first come inside her he'd felt
responsible
for whatever happened to her. He hadn't experienced anything like it since . . .

He stopped in his tracks, shook his head. No. Not like Isabella. Gia was nothing like his wife in either appearance or temperament. She was a whirlwind to Izzy's sweet oasis. His wife had been completely dependent on him, which had led to her ultimate downfall. His enemies had been hers, because she was his. Gia belonged to no one and could look out for herself. He'd wager she'd pissed off plenty of people just by running that mouth of hers, and yet she was still alive. Whatever feelings he was experiencing had more to do with his guilt than any kind of true connection.

Forget the fact that his body came alive when he touched hers, truly alive. Scents were stronger, colors brighter, sounds richer when they had sex. She'd dug up the passions he'd buried long ago, made him crave more than a biological release. He'd been willing to spend whatever time he had left exploring their mutual pleasure. Why hadn't she?

Even though she'd seen the memories, she didn't get it. Didn't see how unstoppable his father was, how powerful or how far his reach extended.

He hoped she never did.

Stooping over the pool he stared at his reflection. The man looking back at him was a familiar stranger, an echo of the one he'd once been. Being in the Hosta System stripped away all his swagger, reduced him to the sniveling wimp from fifty years ago. His one act of defiance, a final fuck you to his father, would be the death of him, just as he'd always known it would.

A century was a good, long life. Better than most humans attained, and he didn't have to worry about aging organs and frail health. He'd be fit and hearty with a raging libido to the end. Maybe it wasn't quite the destiny his father had promised him on the banks of the Infinity Pool, but he'd done things, seen things, experienced plenty. Surviving didn't mean what it once had. It wasn't everything.

Did he really just want to sit here and starve? Slowly wait for the end to steal over him with nothing but horrific memories for company?

Fuck that.

Collecting what was left of Gia's second supply pack, he took one last look at his reflection. If he had to die, he was going to do it not as the cowering son of the most powerful man in the universe, but as the bastard he'd fought hard to become.

Gia's tracks were half filled in when he emerged from the shelter. She was heading west, probably the best direction to find shelter. A few military bases littered the western edge of the frozen waste, and she had a good chance of being picked up by a patrol. With her lusty appetites and sweet feminine body, she'd probably seduce half the garrison before stealing a ship. Maybe she would make it. He hoped so, even if the thought of other men touching her flawless skin gave him the urge to kill something.

Zan turned back and looked at the jagged mountains looming to the north. That was where the stinger had gone down, where the searchers would focus their efforts to identify the alien vessel. That was where he headed now.

If his luck held he might just take a few of them with him on his way to hell.

 

Gia had never been so cold in her life. Every muscle burned as she continued her slow trek toward God alone knew what. Her thighs ached from goose-stepping through snowdrifts and her flight suit was soaked through. More than once she considered turning around, heading back to the cave, to Zan—the chickenshit coward—who might not be good for much but would definitely be able to warm her up.

The reality of freezing to death, of dropping from exhaustion and dying of exposure, was much different than she'd imagined. Her philosophy had always been it was better to try to do something than to sit around doing nothing and hope for a beneficial outcome. But she was usually prepared, just like she'd been with the parachute. Now, though, with limited supplies, no way to contact another human being, and dwindling light, she wondered if her luck had run out.

She didn't want to die here, so far from Earth and filled to the brim with regrets. Gen came to mind first. Her friend would be so frantic when she found out what had happened. Of course, who was to say she would ever find out? Only she and Zan knew where they were, so for all Gen knew Gia had just succumbed to her wanderlust and beat feet for the next star system over. Yeah, it was probably better that way. Gen had Rhys, and she had her grandparents. She would live to a ripe old age and tell her grandkids about her slutty friend who'd set her on the course to finding true love, helped save an entire race of people before gallivanting off into the sky.

Her mother, that was a different story. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought she'd have time to set things right there. There was so much left unsaid, so many feelings unshared, so many thoughts unspoken. For a long time Gia had harbored that resentment, used it to fuel her fire, to drive her onward. Now she wished she had more time to try and forgive the unforgivable.

Her stomach growled, the Nutri gel completely used up. She stopped behind a large rock, crouched down out of the gusting wind that blew snow at her. Though the temperature was still slightly above freezing, the blanket wouldn't do her much good once night came. She'd hoped to find shelter sooner, even another cave, as long as she had a dry place to stretch out.

With frozen fingers she fumbled for the zipper on her bag, then dropped it. It slid down the crusted over snow a few feet and her head fell forward in defeat.

She should have stayed with Zan. Right now she could be beneath him, absorbing all that magnificent male heat surrounding her, invading her, working toward their mutual release. His dark hair would fall over his shoulders and those golden eyes would lock on hers even as his hips pumped furiously, dragging his cock in and out of her greedy sex over and over.

More time. She wanted more time, needed it. Her life had been a series of temporary situations, filled with temporary people. She hadn't made her mark on the universe yet, hadn't experienced enough, hadn't set things right.

Taking slow, shallow breaths, she looked up, firmed her resolve. That backpack was her only link to life. If she had to roll down the hill to get to it, by God that's what she'd do.

She rose, staggered, and almost lost her footing. The snow had stopped but the temperatures were falling, were already below freezing. No time to dawdle. No time to do anything but get that bag and keep going.

Her next step crunched through the snow but landed on something spongy. Puzzled, she leaned more of her weight on it but was yanked off her feet and hung upside down, caught in some sort of invisible snare. Struggling, she tried to free herself, but the bindings squeezed like a python. The rock she'd been leaning against flipped its top and a man emerged.

He wore more climate-appropriate clothing, including a white hat that covered his ears and sheer goggles to protect his eyes. And he carried what looked like an assault rifle, one she'd never seen before though, chunky in design with a barrel bigger than her thigh. She tried to swallow when he swung it in her direction.

“State your name and intentions!”

He must be part of the military Zan had mentioned. What she thought was a rock was really the entrance to some sort of underground bunker. She would have gone right past it totally unaware if she hadn't tripped the booby trap. “My name is Gia. My ship crashed here yesterday and I need help.”

He tilted his head. “Are you the only survivor?”

Zan had been so terrified of being discovered, so sure that even mentioning his name would get her killed. Or worse. But could she just leave him out there in that cave to starve to death?

“I'm alone and unarmed,” she answered honestly. “Please, let me down.”

The man scanned the horizon on all sides and then nodded once. “I'll need to bring you in for interrogation.”

The restraints loosened and she fell on her ass in the snow. A few more bruises for the collection she sported wouldn't make a difference if she could get warm and dry.

“Go ahead of me down the tunnel.” The man didn't lower his weapon and she didn't want to see what it was capable of. Casting one last, longing look at her bag of supplies, she decided they probably wouldn't let her keep it anyway.

The guard jabbed her in the back a few times, but she figured his small stature was to blame for the overload of aggression. “Do you know what a Napoleon complex is?” She kept her tone mild as she trundled down the dark corridor. Being a smart-ass beat being a terrified victim any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

Another jab to her sore side. “Is that some sort of weapon?”

“Not exactly,” she murmured. If she hadn't been half frozen and totally exhausted she might have gone for his weapon. The idiot obviously didn't understand that the point of firearms was to kill from a distance. Seeing the look on his face when she snagged his weapon and turned it on him might have been worth it, but she was at a distinct disadvantage with these people and needed to do whatever it took to keep on their good side, to ensure she lived through the night.

The tunnel went on for an eon, winding and dimly lit with soft, glowing tracks built into the floor. It reminded her of the dim glow of Zan's spaceship, and she wondered if the base was alive like the pirate vessel. It couldn't be though; the frozen tundra was a much different environment than outer space. She didn't totally dismiss the possibility though. Stinger pilot training 101: when encountering alien life, don't ignore any option, no matter how implausible. The realm of human understanding had grown by leaps and bounds over the last century. As her stepfather the scientist always said, the more they discovered about the cosmos, the more they realized exactly how little humanity really understood.

The tunnel ended abruptly, opening into a vast room with cathedral ceilings seeming to reach almost back up to the surface. What looked to be two dozen armed men dressed in similar uniforms sat at comm stations and talked into headsets. The technology was old by Earth standards, almost as old as Gen's grandmother Cora, who was over a century in age. All eyes focused on her as she strode through the room, more than one expression hungry as they scrutinized her.

“Sir!” Her angry little captor lowered his weapon, squared his shoulders, and pounded his fist against his chest twice, in something akin to a salute of respect. “I found the pilot of the crashed alien vessel. She tripped the perimeter alarm in sector two.”

A man who'd been staring at a computerized grid map looked up. Gia gasped when she saw his icy blue eyes and the jagged scar that ran from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. His expression was one of total disbelief. “She? You're telling me a woman flew that ship?”

Napoleon 2.0 backed down. “Well . . . That is . . . Sir . . .”

Those laser beam eyes focused on Gia, scanned her from the top of her head to her ripped flight suit and all the way down to her scuffed boot heels and she shivered in the arctic chill. “You fly?”

“Not without a ship, handsome.” She turned her thousand-watt smile to full blast, hoping to melt his frosty exterior.

His eyes narrowed. “What planet do you call home?”

Finding the confidence to work her feminine wiles when she felt like a half million miles of worn-out space lane and she feared she might pass out from exhaustion was no easy task. But Gia meant to survive by whatever means necessary. Charming men came naturally to her, and this rough-and-tumble bunch looked hungry for a woman's presence. Perhaps she could turn that to her advantage. “Originally, Earth. How about you buy me a drink and I can tell you all about it.”

The way he studied her gave her pause. Figured the guy in charge would be the one man in the room that didn't look at her with heat, at least none that she could see. His eyes didn't linger on her lips or breasts. Gia wondered if he preferred the company of men. Not for the first time, she wished Zan had come with her. It was his home planet; he would have more insight into how these men thought.

The man at the nearest console rose to his feet and shoved Napoleon out of the way. His dark hair was shaggy and unkempt, and his eyes were bloodshot as though he had a massive hangover. One huge paw gripped a lock of her hair and he brought it to his nose, his lips turning up cruelly. “Sir, if you don't want her I am the next in line.”

Gia frowned and stared up at him. “In line for what?”

The letch assessed her curves, and an unpleasant smirk twisted his lips. “For claiming you.”

“Claiming me? Get the hell out. I'm no man's lost baggage.” She shoved him away and turned back to the man in charge, but something hit her on the back of the head. Pain exploded and she fell to her knees, vision spotted and fighting the urge to vomit.

“Learn your place, female,” the shaggy beast snarled. “Here you belong to the highest ranked officer. That is Commander Fenton. If he passes you by, you are mine to do with as I please.” The leer on his face left no doubt she wouldn't enjoy his attentions.