Taking Liberty (9 page)

The corners of her mouth tugged upward in a ghost of a smile. “There's my problem—I should have been born a Shiartan. Or maybe even an Aquatican.”

“What, and have to deal with all those tentacles? Not to mention the occasional disastrous date with an Aquatican packing only a three-inch pleasure valve.”

The laugh bubbling from Rini was full of life this time. A warm rush of pleasure washed over him at the sound.

Grinning, she wiped her cheeks. “Okay, you might have a point.”

“Damn straight I do.”

The humor lighting her eyes dimmed, seriousness taking its place. “Why do I get the feeling I don't know who you truly are?”

“Babe, with me, what you see is what you get.”

“I sincerely doubt it. Deep down, I think you've been wounded by something too, but you deflect it by cracking off-color jokes and playacting like you couldn't give a shit.” She stepped closer, her gaze probing, chiseling away at his layers, trying to ferret out God knows what.

“Would you rather I deflect with a pair of strap-on balls like you do?” The minute the sarcasm left his mouth he realized his tactical blunder.

“Then you admit it? You
have
been wounded.”

He spread his arms out. “Hell yeah. You should see some of the scars I'm sporting. And those are just from the past week.”

“I wasn't talking about physical scars and you know it.” Sad resignation settled on her face. “I thought we were sharing an intimate moment here. A mutual baring of souls. Guess I was mistaken. Just like you.”

He frowned. “What the hell's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're wrong. I am a lousy judge of character.” Hugging herself tight, she shuffled towards the ship.

Chapter Nine

The next two days passed in a slow haze. Despite spending endless hours scouring the desert, they'd yet to find anything to use as a signal beacon. Hope was growing slim.

Dunking the bandana Lucus had loaned her into the bucket of water stashed near the nose of the Liberty, Rini mopped her face and neck before ringing out the camouflage fabric. The desert's greedy soil soaked up the moisture within seconds. Pulling her hair back, she tied the bandana loosely around her scalp and lifted her hand, shading her eyes. In the distance, Lucus's form looked like a wavering mirage trekking across the furnace-blasted valley.

They hadn't talked much the last thirty-eight hours. Certainly nothing that came close to comparing with the confidences exchanged in the dark the other night. Correction—the confidences she'd given. He'd yet to fess up to anything.

She shook her arms, trying to lose the thin layer of dust that seemed permanently fused to her skin, and reached for the small canteen clipped to her belt. A quick jostle verified an adequate ration of water sloshing inside the metal. Squaring her jaw, she stalked towards the stand of cacti where she'd last spotted Lucus.

His steps slowed while she approached, the wariness she was growing weary of shifting across his face. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same.” She held out the canteen. “Take it—yours must be bone-dry. You've been gone all morning.”

Though she'd kept the accusation from her voice, a guilty flush crept up his neck. “Sorry. You looked so peaceful sleeping I didn't want to wake you.”

Sure
. She watched him unscrew the cap off the canteen and gulp down a healthy swallow. “So what possessed you to take a hike through the desert at the crack of dawn?”

He took another swig of water and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I wanted to see what sort of terrain is between us and Quarrel's compound.”

His answer caught her off guard. “Why?”

Scratching the accumulating stubble taking over his jawbone, he handed her the canteen. “We need a signal beacon. Quarrel's base might be our only option of finding one.”

The canteen slipped from her trembling fingers and smacked into the dirt. “You're not planning to go back there!”

“We don't have much choice.”

“If he catches you, you're dead.”

A wry grin curved his mouth. “Hence the reason I'll try like hell not to get caught.”

“Maybe we should think about this.” Ignoring the canteen rolling at her feet, she paced restlessly, earning the chastising trills from a lizard scurrying out of her warpath. “We haven't checked every square inch of this desert. There's got to be more wreckage from the Starflight Folly.”

“Rini, we stand a better chance of finding an ocean in the middle of this valley than a transmitter that might or might not even still be here. Or be functional.”

She knew he was only being pragmatic. But it didn't mean she had to like it. Or agree. “What does it hurt to keep looking?”

“We'd only be postponing the inevitable.”

Fisting her hands, she stopped directly in front of him. “I don't want you to go.”

“I know.”

“Then I'm going with you.”

He leaned down and grabbed the canteen. “I'd get it done quicker if you didn't. Plus, I'd only worry about you the whole time.”

The same excited belly flutters that kicked up the last time he said he worried about her returned.
God, I'm pathetic
. “How do you think I would feel stuck here while you're sneaking around the general's compound?”

“You'll probably throw a party.”

“Who am I going to invite? The lizards?”

Grinning, he tapped his thigh with the canteen. “Only if they bring their own booze.”

 

After talking it over, they decided it made the most sense to wait until nightfall for him to set out across the desert. Well, pretty much Lucus thought it made sense. She thought it was nuts. Grumbling beneath her breath, she rifled through the galley's cupboards, pulling out items that could easily be transported in Lucus's pac-sack. The rest of the dried beef. A container of hubarra nuts. Some wheat wafers packaged in a collapsible tin. The remainder of limited space inside the pac she reserved for canisters of water, enough to hopefully last him three days. Three and a half if he paced himself.

Lucus strode into the galley and tossed an expandable huddle tent onto the metal tabletop. She gave the device a dubious glance. “Have you ever slept in one of these?”

“No. You?”

“They were standard issue in most of our training ops at the academy.” She fingered the tissue-thin, metallic fabric. “Be careful where you pitch this. The tiniest breeze can knock it over.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

His glib, cheery responses were like needles pricking at her skin. “This isn't going to be some grand adventure you're reliving from the glory days spent at camp Wig-A-Wam.”

A slow grin crept across his face. “Camp Wig-A-Wam? Is that where you went?”

“No, I made it up. My parents never let me attend camp.”

“Mine did. And as you can see, I survived.”

Biting the corner of her lip, she reached for the mini medi-kit she'd put together. “I'm still stashing this in your pac, to be on the safe side.” She released the closures on the Mylar and rolled the bag out, displaying its contents. “There's antiseptic pads, bandages, venom blocker, sting balm, my little can of stun spray in case you encounter a hungry bear—”

“In the desert?”

“Okay, a hungry buzzard,” she countered, rolling her eyes. “I also included a tiny pair of scissors, tweezers, and a tube of insta-patch in case something needs stitches.”

“Good thinking. I've got a pair of pants I've been meaning to hem.”

She shot him a dirty look and he chuckled. “I'm glad you find me so hilarious.”

“Babe, I find you adorable.” Without warning, he squeezed her in a tight hug.

It was the first body-to-body contact they'd shared since their hot kiss in the desert on the day they crashed. Though the touch was in no way sexual, it still felt mighty good. Unable to resist, she snuggled against him with a soft sigh. “No one's ever called me adorable before.”

“I'm not surprised.”

Tilting her head, she slid him a narrow-eyed look. “You know, if you stayed mute for a second, I just might be able to keep up this illusion of liking you.”

“Don't think you'll have much problem there. I can be unbearably charming.” His eyes twinkling devilishly, he leaned his face close.
Very
close. Their breath mingled. If she inched up a fraction, her lips would meet his. It'd be that easy.

He dropped his arms and stepped back. Disappointment settled over her like a musty old coat—smothering and uncomfortable. She should be happy he hadn't tried to kiss her. What good would falling for him do when they were as different as two people could be? If they somehow did manage to get off the planet, she'd go back to her job at the agency and he'd probably return to illegal trading with creepy dictators.

She scrunched her forehead at the reminder of Lucus's business dealings with the general. Or more precisely, the cryptic comment he'd made about being forced into it. During all the recent excitement, she hadn't pursued further explanation from him. Well, that was going to change, and fast. Why should she be the only one spilling her guts around here? “How did General Quarrel convince you to set up trade with him?”

Lucus blinked, the last traces of his grin vanishing. “Do we need to talk about that now? There's still a shitload of last-minute stuff to finish.”

Stacking her arms over her chest, she stared him down.

“Jesus, you could give pointers to a pit bull.” He leaned against the tabletop with an expression that was best labeled bone-dead weary. “Three months ago, my brother decided to treat some friends to a night of fun on Shiarta.”

She'd never been to Shiarta but she knew darn well the type of fun typically dished up on the pleasure planet. “That was awfully generous of him.”

Lucus gave a wry twist of his lips. “Money has a habit of flying out of Chase's wallet.”

Whatever caused the animosity existing between Lucus and his brother, she was willing to bet there was more to it than just Chase's lackadaisical attitude regarding finances. Rather than waste the next hour trying to pry the truth from Lucus, she decided to keep him focused on the current story. “What does the general have to do with Chase's adventure on Shiarta?”

“Unfortunately, my stupid-ass brother decided to hit on Quarrel's favorite concubine.”

Rini stifled the urge to gag. “Ugh, all the money in the universe wouldn't convince me to have sex with the general.”

“Glad to hear you have lofty standards.”

She caught the amusement sparkling in Lucus's eyes. “If I had to choose between a five-second quickie with General Quarrel or having a thousand slugs dumped on my naked body, I'd pick the slugs. Come to think of it, the two would probably feel similar.” Shuddering at the disturbing picture floating in her head, she waved a hand at Lucus. “Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt.”

“No problem.” Reaching out, he snagged the tiny jar of sting balm from the medi-kit and rolled it between his palms repeatedly.

She noted the nervous gesture but didn't comment. Lucus remained quiet for several moments. Just when she was about to give up on him, he flipped the balm onto the mylar bag and pushed away from the table.

“I got a desperate call from one of Chase's friends that night. Quarrel had every intention of dragging my brother back to Aquatica with him. Probably would have dumped Chase inside the cell you and I became acquainted with three days ago.”

“But you showed up and somehow bailed your brother out.” The puzzle pieces started clicking together. “That's where the bargain came in, isn't it? You agreed to smuggle for Quarrel in order to save your brother's life.”

“Yep.”

Lucus pivoted and she stared at the back of his head. “Why did you let me think the worst of you all this time?”

He gave a disinterested shrug. “Would it have made any difference?”

“How can you even ask?”

“Because with you everything is pretty much black and white.”

“No it's not!” Trying to disguise the spiral of hurt unfurling inside her, she stepped around Lucus and shot him an incensed glare. He returned it calmly.

“Rini, you live your life according to a set of clearly defined rules.” He held his palms facing out. “Over here are the people who'd never dream of breaking the law. They're the ones you understand—the ones you feel obligated to protect and serve. But over here is everyone else.”

“You make me sound…rigid. I don't compartmentalize to that degree.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Amazing how such lack of faith could be conveyed with one annoying facial quirk. She tossed up her hands. “Fine, believe whatever you want. Even if it's dead wrong.”

A heavy exhale escaped him. “Do you think we can save the bickering for when I get back? Right now, I'd just like to enjoy a peaceful dinner under the stars.”

Since there was no way she could do anything but agree without looking like a total bitch, she nodded. “What do you feel like eating? There's a tin of processed ham or dehydrated meatloaf.”

“Hell with it, let's splurge and go with the ham.”

Beneath his over-the-top enthusiasm, she heard the unspoken truth. This might be the last meal they shared. Better make the most of it.

“Why don't you go stoke the fire? I'll get things prepped and meet you outside in five.” She waited until Lucus's whistle departed down the corridor before slumping against the metal table. It made no sense. Part of her wanted to clobber him for painting her as a controlling stick-in-the-mud. The other part worried that after tonight, she'd never have the opportunity to argue with him again. “Could I be more warped?”

She pried open the tin of ham, scraped off the mysterious gelatinous coating, and plopped the meat onto an available platter. After slicing the ham into slightly more appetizing wedges, she sprinkled two handfuls of Galaxy Gus's potato chips around the perimeter of the plastic dish and carried her culinary masterpiece outside.