No Quarter (Bounty, Book One) (3 page)

“Rule number two.” Gar’s voice shook him out of his mental musings. “While you’re on my ship, I’m in charge. No games, no deceit. I expect the total truth the entire time or else I turn around and deliver your ass to Jason.”

Faolan snorted. “I won’t promise you that.”

“Then this trip is over now.”

Gar marched in the direction of his overcoat and Faolan
knew
he was going for the electro-cuffs. Reaching out, Faolan gripped the bounty hunter’s arm, stopping him where he stood before pulling him close. “Hey, settle down.”

“Don’t push your luck,
Captain
.”

“I’m not. I can promise you the truth, but
no one
is in charge of me. Understand?”

He kept his eyes locked on Gar’s, but suddenly found it hard to concentrate. Heat radiated from the younger man in waves, enticing him, inviting him to lean in. Dammit, he needed to keep a clear head if he was going to pull this off and get his crew out of their current mess. Jason and his money was the answer to so many problems—all he had to do was keep his cock under control and win the confidence of the man in front of him.

Gar’s blue gaze roamed over his face. Faolan barely managed to suppress a shiver. He wet his bottom lip with his tongue, doing it again when Gar’s attention slipped down to watch.

“Any other rules I need to be aware of?” Faolan flexed his fingers on Gar’s biceps, testing the firmness of the muscle beneath the man’s shirt.

Faolan had never found strong men to be overly attractive. He liked to be the one on top—especially if the other man was younger. Gar was an interesting mix of old-galaxy manners and youthful vibrancy, even if he hid it beneath a mask of ice. What fun he could have chipping away at the layers. Who would he find hiding under the surface?

Gar jerked his arm free and took a step back. The distance, while not great, gave them both room to breathe. Faolan watched as the hunter pulled the hem of his jacket down, as if to straighten invisible wrinkles. Nervous tic? Didn’t seem likely, but he stored it away for further observation.

“Rule number three,” Gar continued, clearing his throat. “Do what you want in this room, but the rest of the ship is off-limits.”

“Have some cargo you’re scared I might want to sneak a peek at?”

“This is my home. Respect it.” Gar turned his face away, gaze drifting in the direction of a door off to the side.

Faolan found himself nodding. “Respect is earned, not granted on a demand.”

The words hit home with Gar. Faolan could see by the tightening of his mouth and the briefly squinting eyes. Whatever the young man was feeling, the fleeting emotion was crushed, Gar’s impassive mask fell quickly back into place. Quite possibly, Faolan had finally met someone more fucked up than himself.

Gar crossed his arms across his chest and huffed. “Enough of this. What are the coordinates to your ship? I’d like to get there as quickly as possible.
If
your crew can be trusted to do what you told them, I want to be ready early.”

Anger flashed through him, along with the urge to punch the other man. “My crew is loyal to me. You’d do well to remember that.”

Faolan had fought long and hard to earn the respect of every man and woman on his ship. They worked, fought and loved like a family. He’d happily die for each and every one of them if called upon to do so—and he knew the feeling was mutual. What right did this loner have to even
pretend
to criticize them?

Before he could stop himself, Faolan closed the distance between them and pressed into Gar’s personal space. “We go nowhere until I’m confident they won’t be harmed. I don’t trust you not to betray me.”

“And I don’t trust you not to shoot me in the back. So we’re on mutual ground.”

Seconds ticked off in Faolan’s head as he memorized the expression on the other man’s face. He’d dealt with men like this hunter before, knew if there was some deeper emotion, it would be ugly. Like the men who’d chased him down, taken his wife from him and left him in his current state. A snort escaped him before he could stop it.

Gar lifted his eyebrow. “What?”

“You think you’re something special. Don’t you?”

He didn’t respond, which only served to piss Faolan off more. No, he couldn’t lose control of the situation now, not with so much at stake. Twisting his anger into cocky bravado, he grinned wide enough to show all his teeth, in an attempt to turn the tables from confrontation into something else.

“Hunter, you think because you live in Jason’s back pocket that you have control of everything and everyone in this sector. If you were to snap your fingers you could have whatever you wanted laid out before you. But do you know what? You’re wrong. My crew will be at the coordinates. We have three days to kill in the meantime. It’s your call on how we do it.”

Gar didn’t look away—his pale blue irises were unrelenting in their appraisal. It would have been unnerving if it wasn’t for the thinly veiled lust showing through the man’s mask.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Gar took a step back, visibly swallowed and shifted his gaze to the cockpit door.

“I need to maneuver the ship into the queue for planetary takeoff. Stay here.”

Faolan bowed deep at the waist, holding his arms out wide. “Of course.”

“Fucker,” Gar muttered as he walked into the cockpit, the door automatically sliding closed behind him.

The air in the room felt thin as Faolan took several breaths to calm his racing heart.
Gods-damned erotigen.
He’d have to play this one fast and loose, try to keep Gar off balance until he could get back to his ship. Mace would be able to pull something up on the bastard at that point. She had a way of digging out the dirt of a person’s life, no matter how deeply they thought it was buried. And if she couldn’t…well, Mace could always make something up.

Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, Faolan sauntered around the room. There had to be something on this ship he could use against Gar to ensure things went the way he wanted.

Faolan wasn’t surprised to find the door to the cockpit locked when he tried it. It proved that despite being dosed with drugs, Gar could still think straight. Good to know. Faolan wanted a challenge, not some pushover.

The only other door in the room was also locked, this time with a bio scanner and voiceprint identifier. Gar apparently took no chances when it came to his ship’s security. Not that it would stop Faolan from cracking it when he needed to, but it would take longer than usual. Curiosity gnawed at his insides. Gar was proving to be more of a mystery and a challenge than he’d anticipated. A grin slipped onto his face as he continued to inspect the room.

The couch took up a large part of the area and there were very few personal effects decorating the walls. A computer terminal along the side wall was also locked down with bio access. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the cockpit door, Faolan slipped into the terminal chair and began running through several of his tried and tested hacking techniques. The screen flashed red with each failed attempt, escalating his annoyance. Bastard bounty hunter was good—pissed him off more. There had to be something else.

Spinning the seat around, he looked at the room again, this time with an eye for anything out of the ordinary. Gar was a loner, apparently had no addictions and lived a minimalistic life if the rest of the ship was anything like this room. The boy needed to have some fun! Faolan couldn’t have lived like this—he’d die from the monotony of it all. Fucking, fighting and flying his ship was what ruled his current life. Mix in raids on Loyalist ships and colonies and he had everything a man with no future could ever want.

As the minutes passed, Faolan was almost resolved to not finding out Gar’s secret—because everyone had at least one—before the hunter came back. When his gaze landed on the silver panel alongside the computer terminal, he knew he’d found what he was looking for.

Something unusual.

Faolan dropped to his knees as he pulled out a black-bladed knife from his boot. The panel fell away surprisingly easy given the nature of Gar’s security protocols. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the old-fashioned safe embedded in the wall. No bio scanner, just an old spin dial combination. Honestly, the idea was brilliant. Most criminals wouldn’t have a clue how the combination lock worked, let alone how to get past it.

Thankfully, Faolan wasn’t the average criminal.

Cracking his fingers, he leaned in until his ear rested just above the dial. He knew the basic principle of the thing—turn the dial until you hit the correct number, then go in the opposite direction. Simple. However, the sheer number of numeric combinations would drive away most people.

Setting the dial to start at zero, he closed his eyes and listened for the steady clicking of the locking mechanism. He, like many of his race, had exceptional hearing, so he was able to recognize the louder snap of the barrel when he hit the right number. Grinning, it took only a few minutes more to find the other numbers. Leaning back, Faolan took a deep breath before cracking the rusty metal door open.

His smile quickly morphed into a scowl as he peered inside, not quite sure what he was looking at. Devoid of anything precious, like credits, drugs or weapons, the only thing Faolan could see was an old personal picture display unit and a small metal object. Ignoring the sentimental trinkets, he snatched the other item and rose to his feet.

A watch?

The metal was pitted and discolored along the back and strap. The glass of the face was worn, giving it a fogged appearance. The second hand wasn’t moving, instead it stood at attention pointing straight up. Wait…no, it wasn’t a second hand. No other hand existed, confusing the hell out of Faolan. What good was a watch you couldn’t tell time with? For that matter, what good was a watch based on planetary solar cycle when you lived on a spaceship?

Faolan flipped it over and around in his hand, wondering about the history of the thing. What the hell was a bounty hunter doing with something as antiquated as this anyway?

Shifting his weight to so it rested on his back leg, he didn’t notice the blade of Gar’s knife until it was pressed firmly against his throat, the edge digging deep enough to draw blood.

“What the…
fuck
are you doing?” Gar’s voice was little more than a hiss against Faolan’s ear.

“I got bored.”

“Give it to me.” Gar held his free hand out, waiting to collect the object.

“What the hell is it?” Faolan moved slowly, knowing he’d really pushed his luck this time. “Looks like a watch.”

“
Now.
”

Gar’s fingers wrapped around the rounded metal the moment Faolan released it. Only then did Gar ease the pressure of the blade from against his neck, allowing Faolan to breathe easier.

“Touchy.” Faolan pressed his fingers against the wound to check how deep he’d been cut. He’d live.

Gar ignored him. Dropping to his knees, he carefully set the object back inside the safe. Before closing the door, he pressed several buttons on the inside.

“It won’t work, you know.” Faolan knew exactly what Gar had just done. “It will only take me another few minutes to crack the new code and I’ll be right back inside.”

The short bark of laughter that escaped him died when Gar spun Faolan around and slammed his body against the wall. The air fled his lungs, making his head spin. When he was once again able to focus his vision, the young man was panting just as hard, both lust and rage contorting his boyish looks.

“I told you the rules. No touching my stuff. Show me respect and I’ll show you the same.”

“And I told you respect has to be earned. What the hell was that thing?”

Gar didn’t respond right away. Instead of goading him, Faolan’s attention shifted to the bulge in the hunter’s pants. Faolan’s cock, still half hard from earlier, leapt to full attention at the realization Gar was still fiercely aroused. Gar’s gaze hardened with an intensity that made Faolan writhe in place.

“It’s a…stopwatch. Tells you how long a task takes you. It was my father’s.”

The remorse with which he said the last told Faolan there was more to the story. Still, he considered himself a smart man and knew now was not the time to push for answers.

Now was most certainly the time for fucking.

Shifting his thigh against Gar’s cock, Faolan leaned in close. “So now your precious stopwatch is put away and you have me at your mercy, what are you going to do?”

“Kill you.”

A cold and in control Gar was sexy, but having him angry and aroused, poised on the edge of that same control, was fucking
hot
.

Faolan leaned forward and licked the shell of Gar’s ear. “I don’t think so. Despite me having pissed you off, you’re intrigued by the trinket I have on my ship.” Another swirl of his tongue against the hot skin. “Plus I don’t think you’d want to disappoint Jason.”

“I’ll just kill you and hunt your ship down. Save me the headache.”

Faolan knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help it. “You’ll never track them down without the coordinates.” Tugging his hand free, he dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a small gold disk. “Which are safely on here.”