Stark Surrender (22 page)

“A quick session of regen soothed the tissues. I’m fine.”

He nodded, clearly relieved, but then tensed again. “As for the other … I don’t even know how to explain my behavior then, Kiri. I wish I could. I’m sorry. The way I behaved was wrong—completely wrong.”

His gaze held anguish, but Kiri looked away, her arms wrapped around her middle. Part of her was actually glad he was suffering—emotionally at least.

“I’m back now,” he said. “I swear it. This me again, entirely. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive the way I treated you.”

His words reminded her why she was here. She had a mission to complete—yeah, and that just sounded like a bad holovid line. Taking a breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“Right,” she said. “I … forgive you. So, you can … go on and do what you have to do.”

Logan sighed deeply. Kiri tensed, afraid he was about to collapse.

She watched, worry and resentment tangled in her middle as he sat on the edge of his bed, wincing as he lifted his arms to pull on the snug knit shirt, and swung his legs under the covers, which had been neatly turned back for him. By the time he leaned back against the mounded pillows, he looked drawn, exhausted.

He didn’t appear to her to be in any shape to manage galactic affairs. He just looked like he needed food and sleep. The first of which Natan had provided. She guided the tray to his bedside and lowered it so he could reach, avoiding his gaze. She wished he’d stop watching her, as if the sight of her was the nourishment he craved.

“You’d better eat,” she said, self-consciousness making her voice crack. “Or Natan will be disappointed.”

“Will you share a meal with me?” Logan asked.

She opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t here to eat, then closed it. He had to eat, and if the only way to get him to do so was to stay, she could grit her teeth and do that—for a short time.

“All right,” she agreed. “Coffee?”

He reached for a small sandwich, plump with fresh greens and one of Natan’s special blended fillings. “Yes, please.”

Kiri poured his with one shot of creamer the way he liked it and set it on his side of the tray before pouring her own. Then she sat in the comfortable chair pulled up beside the bed and crossed her legs, sipping her creamy decaf. How domestic they would look to someone who didn’t know them, she thought bitterly—the recovering warrior and his lady, making sure he was taken care of.

Logan ate the sandwich in only a few bites, as well as two baked rolls filled with meat, and some golden slices of ripe gremel fruit. Then he picked up his coffee and took a drink, a frown creasing his brow. “You’re not eating.”

“You’re the one who needs to eat,” she countered. “You’ve lost several kilos.”

“You’ve lost weight too,” he said stubbornly. “Your cheekbones are too pronounced.”

“Yours stand out like the Frontieran Mountains,” she snapped.

His face relaxed in the ghost of a smile, and for an instant Kiri nearly smiled back. That had sounded ridiculous. But just as swiftly, hot tears welled. There was too much raw pain between them to sit and chat. She’d done what she promised, now she needed to get out of here.

She rose, setting her coffee cup down on the tray so swiftly it tipped over, spilling the remains of the creamy liquid on the snowy tray cloth. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” he said, but the words morphed into a yawn.

The door opened smoothly before her. “We’re done here.”

“I’ll gain it back, kitten, he said, the words slurring with weariness. “The weight … and your trust. All of it …”

She looked back to see him sagging in the pillows, his eye already closed. But one hand twitched on the covers, as if he was still trying to reach for her.

Turning away, she let herself out and closed the door behind her. She had to stop and wipe away the tears before she could see her way to her own room. Endings were hard, that was all.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Logan had his holovid conference with Prince Azuran that evening. After one, private look at Logan, however, the prince announced that there would be no news cameras allowed. And although some of the reporters hovering with their holocams looked as if they might burst with rage and disappointment, not one of them said a word, merely following Azuran’s guards from the reception hall at LodeStar’s Frontieran offices.

When they were gone, Azuran gazed at Logan, a frown between his pale, arching brows. “Stark, you look as if you’ve been swallowed by one of our sea predators and then spit out again.”

“That’s approximately the way I feel,” Logan said. “But I’ll live.”

“I am all admiration that you were willing to present yourself to the galactic media,” Azuran said. “However, I think it best if you wait a bit more before revealing yourself, don’t you? We wouldn’t want LodeStar stock to tumble like so much space rubble, and take our foundation with it.”

“Thank you,” Logan said dryly, accepting the royal jab at his management style. Everyone knew he ran all aspects of LodeStar, and thus, the prince had a point. If the head of LodeStar Corporation was seen looking this way, many investors might lose confidence in his corporation’s future.

Logan was dressed for business, in one of his suits that had been hurriedly tailored so that he wasn’t lost in the folds, and he sat in his high-backed office chair, a vase of hothouse flowers at his elbow, a holovid behind him with the LodeStar emblem, a gleaming silver ship sailing toward a bright star, swirling endlessly.

Skillful cosmetics had been applied to the last of his facial bruises, and he’d been shaved. But he was under no illusions that he looked other than what he was—a man recovering from a nearly deadly episode.

“You were attacked in your native city?” Azuran demanded. “Why have you not crushed this rebellion?”

Logan smiled. “Very amusing, Your Highness, but as you are aware, I am not involved in government here. However, my people are cooperating with the police to rid the city of this particular gang.”

“Hmm. I suppose that is reason enough for you to miss our rendezvous. And Princess Dragolin has entertained me most amusingly in your absence.”

By which Logan assumed Azuran was flirting with the renowned seductress, and her husband was looming in the background, glowering at the prince like the Dragolin he was.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Logan said. “I hope that your tour of the expedition sites also goes well. I hope to be back on Frontiera in a week or so.”

“I look forward to the tour of this planet. If I am still here when you return, you will of course visit me then.”

“Of course,” Logan said.

They spent a little time discussing the particulars of the expedition, and then the prince advised Logan to go and lie down before he fell from his chair. With an imperious wave of his hand, their audience was over.

Logan lay back in his chair with a groan of relief and exhaustion. Thank God that was over.

“Okay, back to bed with you,” Creed said. He and Joran had been watching quietly from the divan on one side of Logan’s office.

Logan did not argue. However, once his brothers had helped him back into his bed, he held a hand up.

“I’m having surgery in the morning,” he said. “The cybernetic eye implant.”

“Logan,” Joran said. “You have plenty of time for that. You need to get strong first.”

Logan shook his head. “You saw the way Azuran looked at me. A missing eye is a constant marker that I’ve been badly injured. To inspire confidence, I need to appear whole.”

“And your doctors are okay with this?” Creed asked.

“You can question them yourselves,” Logan invited, and closed his good eye.

“Don’t worry, we will,” Joran assured him, scowling. “Sleep well, brother.”

* * *

Liss was sick and tired of hanging around, waiting on Lode, or Logan Stark, as she now knew him. She was still doing so, just in this big, weird place.

She’d seen him only briefly, and while he’d been sweet to her and displayed gratitude that made her a little giddy with triumph, he wasn’t around now. He was having some further surgery on his battered face, which did not interest her. She wanted him whole for reasons of her own, but she had no interest in how that happened.

And with him occupied, she wasn’t hanging around here tiddling her fingers. She renewed her lip-gloss, rewrapped her scarf to her satisfaction and then sauntered out into the passageway.

Hatchet-face Opal was standing and talking to a man by the elevators. They watched her enter it, and she sneered to cover her nerves. They were a pair—could be twins, with their gray hair and buttoned-up uniforms.

“I’m going shopping,” she informed them. “Be back in a few hours.”

“Mr. Stark is in surgery,” Hatchet Face hissed.

“Yeah, and I’ll be back by the time he’s out,” Liss shot back.

“I’ll call you a hover taxi,” said the man.

She gave him her special cock-hardening smile. “Thanks, handsome. Ask them to pick me up on the roof.”

He nodded, and Liss rode the elevator up with a smile. She’d have time to buy some pretty things and have a drink ... or two with the guy she’d met at Raly’s Bar.

This gig was easy.

* * *

At breakfast, Joran announced that Logan had gone into surgery.

“Surgery? Is he relapsing?” Kiri demanded, her fork suspended in midair. A bite of eggs fell from it with a soft plop.

“No, honey,” Joran soothed instantly. “Sorry to scare you. He’s recovering well. No, this is—he’s having a cybernetic eye implanted, to replace the one that was damaged in the attack.”

She let out a breath of relief, and then frowned. “Now? Shouldn’t he wait till he’s well?”

“That’s what we said,” Joran said. “But his good eye is strained. The drug gave him migraines on top of everything else, so he says he never wants to have another headache. And you know eyestrain leads to headaches.”

There was a short silence. Kiri stared at her plate, remembering an angry Logan in that tiny apartment, telling her that with her, maybe he could rest without pain for once. He’d been having migraines? She guessed that might make her ready to wreak mayhem as well.

The room was silent, and she looked up to find her friends watching her carefully.

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned. “Well … good.” She forked up a bite and chewed. Natan’s delicious eggs may as well have been vegprotein from a tube.

“How is the surgery going to work?” asked Kai.

“They’ll attach the eye to his brain,” Joran said. “So he’ll be able to ‘see’ through the tiny holocam mounted inside the implanted eye. It’s amazing, really. Heat sensors, far sight, and even night vision capabilities. Far better than a normal human eye.”

“Will it look normal?” Taara asked. “Not that Logan would care.”

Kiri nearly smiled at this, because it was true. Logan knew his power over other beings, and while his looks were part of that, it was more his absolute confidence and his urbane charm that convinced others to do precisely what he wanted.

“The docs showed us some holovid of other humans who have them,” Creed said. “You can’t really tell unless you get close enough to see the details of the iris. Most beings will never notice. It’s not like the old models, grafted onto the outside of the face in a goggle.”

“That’s good news,” Zaë said. “How long will the surgery take?”

“About four hours, give or take,” Joran said. “Then several hours in recovery, while they test at intervals to see how the body is accepting the implant.”

He looked at Kiri. “Any time you want news of his progress, let me or Creed know. We’ll check in.”

Kiri nodded. Thanks to Kai and her friends, all her own questions had been answered. Except for whether Logan would be all right in the end, and no one could yet answer that.

“More coffee, Ms Kiri?” Natan asked at her side. She nodded, and he refilled her cup and set the small carafe down by her plate. There were two larger carafes on the table as well.

“When did you switch to decaf?” Taara teased, taking a drink of her own coffee. “Being a barista, didn’t you have to swear an oath to consume only the real thing?”

“Oh, you know … I haven’t been sleeping well,” Kiri said, her cheeks heating. “Thought I’d switch for a while.” She’d tell Taara, but not in front of everyone.

Her friend’s arching brows flew up. “Haven’t been sleeping? Sweetie, every time I want you to talk, I have to wake you up.”

“Switching planets and thus zones can really screw up the circadian rhythms,” Kai said firmly. “I’ve been struggling with that myself here.”

“I see,” Taara murmured, not looking convinced.

“There was a Quasiball match yesterday that should’ve been pretty close,” Joran told Creed. “Flamers and the Suns. We could catch that while we’re waiting.”

“Sure,” his brother agreed. “The Flamers have been on a winning streak lately.”

Joran snorted. “The Suns will show them hot, you watch.”

“I know the score,” Taara said in a sing-song voice. “Saw it on the news link.”

Both Creed and Joran held up a hand. “Don’t say another word, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right.”

By unspoken consent, the family stayed close while Logan was in surgery, mostly in the big sitting room of the penthouse. Natan made sure food and drinks were available. Joran talked them all into playing a few games of holodice, then brought up the replay of a Quasiball match from the day before, the Blue Flamers vs. the Golden Suns.

Kiri listened as Chaz Jaguari sang the galactic anthem in his hyper-sexy growl, then her interest waned. Taara and Zaë curled up with their men to watch, but Kiri couldn’t sit still. Kai watched her pace the back of the sitting room.

“Want to walk?” he asked. “I can take Quasiball or leave it.”

She nodded and walked with him out into the passageway. They traversed the building twice before they met Bronc striding toward them.

“You’re not watching the match, huh,” Kai noted.

Bronc gave him a glinting look. “I’ve seen it. Good match. You’re not watching?”

“Haven’t seen it, and don’t care.”

“Have you heard anything about how the surgery is going?” Kiri asked Bronc.

“No. I think you’ll hear before I do,” Bronc said.

He turned and walked beside them along the wide passageway. “Waiting’s hard, I know. If you two are restless, we could always go put a couple spiders through their paces.”

Kai gave Kiri a look. She was learning to read him, and while his face was stoic as usual, there was a hopeful lift to his eyes.

“You two go ahead,” Kiri said. “I’m not in the mood. I’ll just walk for a while.”

“You’re sure?” Kai asked. “I can stay with you.”

She shook her head at him. “You’ve been cooped up here long enough, brother. Go on.”

“All right. Link me if you hear anything—or if you need me.”

Kiri smiled. “I will.”

After the two men were gone, the wide hallways echoed with silence. On impulse, Kiri rode the elevator up to the medcenter level. She’d just check in, see if there was any word yet.

When she walked into the reception area, a neatly uniformed medtech greeted her with a smile. “Hello, Ms. te Nawa. May I assist you?”

Kiri was startled the man knew her name, but she smiled back. “I just wondered if there’s any word on Mr. Stark yet.”

“The doctors issued a progress report a few moments ago,” he told her in hushed tones. “I was just about to notify the family. The procedure is going very well, and Mr. Stark should be out of surgery in an hour or two.”

“Thank you,” Kiri said, relief swamping her. “That’s good to know.”

“Wait, what?” called a female voice behind Kiri.

The receptionist’s smile congealed, his gaze focusing over Kiri’s shoulder.

Kiri recognized that voice—and not in a good way. She whirled to see Logan’s blonde crossing the reception area. Or strutting, since that was the only way Kiri could describe her walk. Clad in red leather and a low-cut red top that had more spangle than cloth, she wore a silk scarf around her throat, knee-high stiletto boots on her feet, and her long blonde hair was caught high a glittery band, to fall in a tail over one side of her head. Her face was enhanced with cosmetics that shimmered on her pouting lips and eyes.

She was a complete contrast to Kiri in her high-necked, fitted topaz wool top with a coordinating silk scarf, dark cocoa pants and soft boots.

“Oh, it’s you,” Liss said. She looked Kiri up and down and preened, a hand to her deep cleavage. “How is he? I just got back from shopping, and this guy won’t tell me nothin’.”

Kiri wanted nothing more than to walk straight past the woman and out of the door. But under the heavy cosmetic and impossibly long lashes, her eyes were anxious.

“He’s doing well,” she gritted. “He should be out of surgery in a few hours.”

The blonde let out a gusty sigh, laden with fruity. “Oh, that’s great,” she gushed. “He’s a tough one, ain’t he? I’ll be so happy when he’s up again, if you know what I mean.”