No Such Thing (36 page)

"Yet," Declan growled. "Ryelle says there was no one down there, Pete."

The man visibly wilted, sagging into his seat. "Thank God," he mouthed.

"Find Mick for me, Pete," Declan ordered in as calm a voice as he could manage. "Somebody else get me the crew rotation."

"On it," Asha chirped from the upper ring.

In a moment, Mick appeared before him, ghostly even for a hologram, his face haggard and eyes bright with veiled panic. "I don’t got enough
personnel for this, MC. We can’t—"

"Mick, take a breath. How close are you to finishing with the first site?"

Mick blinked at him, as if Declan had switched to a different language. "First site?"

"Yeah. How much more do you think you’ll get out of it?"

"Well…nothing. We can’t do a professional sweep—"

"If you haven’t found anything major, we’ll let it drop. Get everybody out of there, seal the bulkheads. The telenetic will let it go to
vacuum." He trusted Ryelle to be following along and comply when everyone was out. "I need your people to round up all the crew that does the
supply runs. Contain ‘em somewhere safe and isolated. Got that?"

"Yes, sir. But why?"

"Suspects, Mick. Use caution, but don’t get too enthusiastic. Most of ‘em are probably innocent."

"Got it. Ah, Chief, one thing we found at the second site…"

"Go ahead."

"Bomb itself was gone, but we found remains of what might’ve been a trigger. Suggests remote detonation, maybe a timer, but not for sure. We
got nobody who knows this kind of thing." Mick grimaced in apology for his team’s inadequacy.

Declan waved it away. "Shit, Mick, I’m amazed you guys could figure that much. I hired you to keep my drunken crew in line, not play detective
and hunt me a bomber."

Humor eased some of the stress lines from Mick’s long face. "Be nice to go back to bar bouncin’ and boring ass guard detail. I’ll
let you know when everybody’s rounded up."

"Thanks, Mick."

The security head disappeared and Ryelle murmured in his ear, "Remote detonation? They could have hidden those bombs days ago, or weeks ago, and just
set them off at leisure. There could be more."

An icy hand tightened on the back of his neck and he sent Pete a grim glance. "Any chance we could scan for explosive elements?"

Pete ran quick and destructive fingers through his hair, setting it wildly on end as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I don’t know. We
don’t have the proper tech, but we could try to rig something."

"I didn’t put together the brightest damned team in the company for nothing," Declan said with a hard grin. "Asha, you got that
rotation?"

"Right in front of you," she called as a holo appeared with a list of names and supply runs.

"Thanks. While you’re at it, crew, find me a remote signal that could detonate a bomb."

"Sure, boss. Want we should build a new galaxy for you while we’re at it?" Pete responded cheerfully, his voice steadier.

"That would be overkill, Pete. Minor miracles only, please. Anything else is just showin’ off."

"Noted, sir."

Declan frowned at the crew rotation, studying it and searching for a red flag. Anything out of place. "Ryelle, how are you doing? Any problems
keeping track of everything?"

"I would rather not have to split my attention between so many things at once, but I’m handling it."

"Just keep an eye on those kids," he ordered. "I’ll get the sites released as soon as I can."

She made a sound like muffled laughter. "I don’t think we have to worry about the children. You should see them. The pizza is in the convector
and they’re all lined up in front of it, watching the food spin and cook as though it’s the most fascinating thing they’ve ever seen. Ah,
Declan," she sighed, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Will you make a child with me?"

Alarm and lust thundered through him, scrambling his brain and sizzling his nerves. An image of her, round with his child, shook him down to his toes and
stole his breath. The idea was terrifying and he wanted it with an ache that went all the way through to his soul.

"MC? You okay?"

Declan dragged in a desperate breath, making a vague gesture at Pete. He wasn’t sure if he was waving off the man’s concern or requesting
urgent assistance.

"Declan? Sorry, did I just give you a heart attack?" Ryelle asked, casual humor not quite masking the note of anxiety in her tone.

"You’re…you want…we can’t talk about this right now," he wheezed, clutching the rail hard enough to make his hands
hurt. "Damn it, Ryelle, I have to…to…" He floundered, mind blanking. There was something very important he was supposed to be
doing. Besides burying himself so far inside his woman that he wouldn’t be able to find his way out again. He swallowed hard, eyes focusing on the
holo in front of him.
Oh, right.
The crew rotation.

Blowing a hard breath, he held onto his sanity with grim determination and read the list. Several times. About the fourth time through, his brain finally
began to function again and he remembered his strategy. No red flags. Normal looking rotations, except three of the crew seemed to be on more than the
others. Declan looked up which supply runs had been hit then compared those runs to the crew rotation. All his muscles tightened with fury at what he saw.

Hissing in a breath, he snarled, "Pete, check the logs. When the second bomb blew, see if you can find a signal coming from medical."

"What did you find?" Ryelle asked in a sharp voice.

"Hang on," he told her, watching Pete while his body thrummed with violence. He knew before Pete spoke, just by the startled look on his face.

"Yeah, how’d you know?"

"Goddamned bastard practically gift-wrapped it for me. Surprised he didn’t try to tell me the one-armed man did it. Pete, get me Mick
again."

"You’re making less sense than usual, dear," Ryelle said mildly in his ear.

He ignored her. When Mick’s face appeared before him, he growled, "Tell me you have every supply crew member with you."

"Like you ordered, sir. Holding ‘em in one of the secure areas on level—"

"You got Ventura?"

Mick frowned. "Well, no. He wasn’t feeling so good. Clutchin’ at his stomach and sweatin’ something awful. I sent him back to
medical to—"

"God
damn
it!" Declan interrupted him. "Did you send anybody with him?"

"Sure, to help him, make sure he got there okay. You can’t be thinkin’… MC, he was caught in the first blast. Bomber wouldn’t
risk it, would he?"

In a guttural voice, Declan swore hard enough to make the man blanch. "Check medical, see if he’s there. If he’s not, check the route
they took for your guard and hope to hell he or she isn’t dead."

Pete’s strained voice caught his attention. "Ventura’s not in medical, boss."

Mick must have heard, because he let out a sound like a sick moan, looking green and drawn.

"Station search, Mick. Put somebody on the rest of the supply crew, just in case Ventura had a buddy or buddies. Then gather up everybody else and go
hunting."

"Yes, sir," Mick rasped, eyes dull with sickly lines bracketing his mouth.

"Don’t beat yourself up, man. At least we know who it is. Makes your job easier. Now all you gotta do is hunt him down."

The older man’s face hardened. "Yes, sir."

The holo blinked out and Declan rubbed a rough hand over his face.

Pete appeared at his side, hazel eyes shadowed with anxiety. "Ventura’s the bomber? How do you know?"

"We found out the GenTec have been talking to somebody, connecting with one of the crew to help them with the attacks. Nobody was ever killed and the
GenTec seemed to know exactly when and where to strike. Crew rotation puts Ventura on each and every one of the supply runs that were attacked. And now
he’s gone missing, right when I ordered all the supply crew to be rounded up. Jackass fed me a line when I saw him in medical. He had the balls to
tell me it was some mysterious stranger wrapped all in black. Goddamn it. And I bought that shit."

"But wasn’t he hurt? From the first blast?"

"He had a cut on his leg. No other injuries. But the security guard was burned all to hell."

"He was caught in the back draft," Ryelle interjected. "I felt him when I plugged the hole. He really was being pulled into space. An
error?"

"Must have been," Declan muttered, rubbing a hand around his neck as he paced restlessly across the deck. "It was the first
blow—maybe he didn’t know what the hell he was doing or maybe the guard caught him at it and he had to blow it early." He spun to face
Pete. "Check on her. See how she’s doing, if she can talk. Ventura looked pretty worried about her when I saw him in medical. Maybe he was
worried she’d rat on him."

"Put a guard on her, Declan. If she knows something, she could be in danger."

The word made him shudder for some reason. There was something in the back of his mind, something he’d forgotten or hadn’t really focused on,
something important…but it didn’t come clear to him and he had to move on. "Ryelle, I’d feel better if you were up here," he
heard himself say and blinked in surprise. Then he shrugged. He really would feel better with her close by and she might be able to help in the search.

"I can’t come without the children."

"What the hell, bring ‘em. Things can’t get much more squirrelly."

"Such an optimist. We’ll be there shortly."

Pete informed him that the security guard still hadn’t regained consciousness, though her condition was improving. Declan told him to get hold of
Mick and set a guard on the injured woman. Then he paced, waiting with barely muffled anxiety for Ryelle to appear. He reminded himself that she was the
most powerful telenetic alive and if Ventura came anywhere near her, she could break him down to his molecules.

It didn’t help.

Chapter 20

When the door opened and Ryelle stepped through with the children in a line behind her like strange little dark ducklings, Declan lurched toward her as if
magnetized. The need to touch her was so sharp it cut, but when he reached for her, he plunged into the river of her power and staggered back with a gasp.

"That’s right, back off," she said coolly, holding up a flat, aromatic object in her hands. It took him a second to recover enough to
name it pizza. "This is for the kiddies. If you’re very good and beg nicely, we might deign to give you a slice."

Declan retreated with a frustrated growl, leaning his hips on the rail and watching her with painful, snarling hunger.

"Whatcha got there?" Pete asked brightly, eyes avid on her hands as he strolled up his ramp.

Ryelle sighed. "We should have made more."

"Will we have to share with them all?" Jake asked, his forehead crinkling in dismay as he peeked around Ryelle at the people scattered through
the large space.

Pete did a double take on the children, eyebrows lifting almost to his hairline. "Well, hello there," he said mildly. "Aren’t you a
sight. Is that your pizza?"

"We made it," Jake said then grunted when Rose elbowed him in the side. "Well, we did," he muttered, dropping his chin and rubbing
his ribs.

"Normally," Ryelle said to the children in a confidential tone, "we would be polite and invite this man to join us. However, since you
are growing children and he’s obnoxiously drooling on it, you can eat first. We’ll share any leftovers."

"I’m not drooling," Pete denied then took a furtive swipe at his chin.

"I believe there are enough pieces for him to have one. May we share now?" Rose asked in her sweet, clear voice.

"You are a better woman than I am," Ryelle whispered with a wink and a quick grin. Then she pinned a stern look on Pete. "You will take
one slice. No more."

"Yes, Mem," he said meekly with an ingratiating smile.

"Ryelle," Declan growled, his patience evaporating under the weight of his impossible need to touch her.

She glanced at him with a quizzical smile then studied him with eyes gone soft and luminous. "Daniel, you’re on pizza distribution duty. Pete,
we could use wipes." She let go of the food, not watching when it floated away from her. Her attention was on Declan. She moved closer, lips curving
in sultry invitation. "Something I can do for you, Master Chief?"

She said it low enough that only the communicator picked it up and whispered it in his ear. His muscles tightened in heated response, his hands gripping
the rail in a useless attempt at restraint. He waited until she was arm’s length away before he responded just as low, "Can you tuck your
talent away so I can put my hands on you?"

She made a face. "How badly do you want evidence from the blast sites?"

"I doubt we’ll find much more. We don’t have any forensic experts here and we’re sure as hell not gonna make you hold the sites
until we can ship a team here. You can drop ‘em."

She sighed and stepped closer, hands reaching out for his. He could feel by the tingle on his skin that she was still working on something, but she was
keeping the main rush of her power from him. He twined her fingers in his with a low sound of relief, wondering when touching her had become so necessary.
She leaned forward to rest her forehead on his chest and he nuzzled his face in her silky hair, breathing her in with a strange sense of contentment. This
was right; this was what he needed, to feel whole, to feel balanced. The realization that he was in love with her came over him with a quiet
matter-of-factness, minus the dismay and despair that he’d expected.
Oh, hell.
He let out a resigned sigh, giving himself up to his fate.
Truth was he’d never stopped loving her. If he was destined for pain, at least he had moments like this to be a balm.

"I missed you," she whispered and he hid his answering smile in her hair.

"You made me nervous. Not being where I could see you. We need to catch this guy so I can get you naked again."

Her throaty laugh sent a fierce coil of heat straight to his groin. Mindful of their audience, he raised his head and drew in a slow, steadying breath. She
looked up at him with the kind of smile that drove strong men to their knees. Good thing he was leaning on the rail.