The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (11 page)

“That’s awful,” she said, but her smirk encouraged him. She stood up. “I’ll go see if I can make that appointment, shall I?”

“Yes, but wait—” Sergei jumped to his feet.

She arched her brows.

“I want you to know how much I appreciate your help with this. It would have taken me all day to do the research you did in a half hour.” Or all week. “Is there anything I can do to return the favor? Aside from getting you out of secretarial duties, that is?”

Jamie chuckled, then tapped her lip thoughtfully, gazing out at the promenade. One of the mechanical elephants was ambling past, no less than four children dangling from its back. She didn’t seem to see it. She turned her gaze toward him and looked him up and down. For a mortified second, he remembered the earlier problem that had come up—alas, his intermittent sexual thoughts had done nothing to deflate it—and started to shift his hips away from her, then decided a silhouette might be worse. He stood absolutely still, hoping her perusal had been brief enough that she hadn’t noticed anything untoward. Maybe she had even noticed something she liked. He knew he was being delusional, but she was taking her time responding, and for a moment, he allowed himself to wonder if her answer might be a request for him to show her the ways of love that she had only read about in books.

“Could you teach me to fight?” Jamie asked.

His dreams of tender lovemaking shattered. “Er, what?”

“Not to be a mashatui practitioner or anything fancy, but I’d like to be able to defend myself from attacking downsiders. And—” her eyes and her voice lowered, as if from shame, “—from groping mercenaries too.”

“Someone on the ship has groped you?” Sergei whispered, his voice harsh, almost hoarse with the surge of anger that filled him.

She winced at his tone, and he struggled to calm himself. He knew all about the shame that came from being a victim, but if someone was bothering her, he wanted to do something about it. Mandrake should have done something about it already. This wasn’t the Fleet where he had no power over superior officers; it was his own company, damn it.

“Does Mandrake know?” Sergei asked.

Jamie looked up, her eyes widening. “No, no, it’s nothing to bother him with. It’s just the not-so-accidental brush-ups and the comments that I’m probably not supposed to hear. When I tried to take one of Sergeant Hazel’s judo classes, it was fine when I was working with the women, but a couple of the men… Look, it’s not a big deal, nothing to bother the captain with. It just makes me uncomfortable on the ship.” Her eyes had lowered again, such a contrast to the grinning woman who had plotted an infiltration on the fly.

Sergei wondered if he was getting this admission because he had shared an admission of his own. Maybe she knew he would understand. Did she know he would very much like to give her a hug? He clasped his hands behind his back instead.

“I thought if I knew a few defensive moves, I’d have a little more confidence,” she said, “and the courage to look them in the eye and tell them to back off. But knowing any one of those men could beat the tools out of my box—I’m afraid to rock the boat. Or the ship.” Jamie shrugged. “They never bother Ankari.”

“Of course not. She’s sleeping with Mandrake.”

“No, it’s more than that. She beat up Striker when we first came on board, when we were still prisoners. That got around, and nobody bugged her even before it was common knowledge that she was seeing the captain.”

“She beat up Striker?” Sergei probably shouldn’t have sounded delighted, when Jamie sounded miserable relaying her experiences, but the notion of a girl knocking Striker on his ass tickled him. Oh, Sergeant Hazel could handle him, but she was as muscular as a lot of the men on the ship and had been born with a gun in her hand, if one believed the stories.

“Yeah. And nobody bothers Sergeant Hazel, either. I assume they all know she can defend herself. And Lauren… Well, she hardly ever leaves the lab, and she’s always so absent-minded that she probably wouldn’t notice a horny merc rubbing up against her.”

Sergei had no trouble imagining that scenario. “They’re also not quite in your squadron.”

She frowned up at him. She hadn’t heard that expression? Or she actually didn’t know that she was, as the ancient fairy tale said, the fairest one of all? The sort of woman that reminded a man of the spring sun and grassy meadows and the innocent joys of youth? Granted, Sergei had never experienced any of those joys of youth, but he remembered a few of Mandrake’s stories about growing up in the near-wilds of Grenavine. Jamie was doubtlessly different from the jaded and hardened female mercenaries, soldiers, and pirates that the crew ran into on missions, not to mention the beleaguered prostitutes that most men had to settle for during shore leave. Even if she didn’t see it, he had no trouble figuring out why she might star in the fantasies of so many of the men on board.

“Never mind,” Sergei said. “That shouldn’t matter. You’re right—they should behave themselves.” He didn’t feel at all hypocritical saying that when he had been fantasizing about her since they met, no, sir. And what exquisite difficulty he would have grappling with her on a gym mat without letting his touches linger inappropriately. He was
not
the right person for this task. Why had she asked him? Sergeant Hazel was down here without anything more to do than he. And what about her friend Ankari? She clearly knew a move or two. Though, she
was
busy. Even now, her voice drifted back to them as she discussed treatment options with one of those callers. “I will teach you, for as long as you feel you need it, but most men should back off if you tell them to. Trust me, nobody’s going to beat the, what did you say, tools out of your box? Instead, they’ll probably slink away, crushed by your rejection.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.”

“That’s because you don’t reject them firmly enough.” He wondered if he was setting himself up to receive one of those rejections. No, he wasn’t going to ever proposition her. Hadn’t he already decided that? Too bad his hormones hadn’t gotten the message. “You had flowers where you grew up, right?”

“Yes…” She gave him a strange look—like how could someone not have grown up with flowers?—but it switched to a sympathetic one.

Sergei rushed on before she could ask if
he’d
had flowers. “Your scientist friend can correct me if I’m wrong, but flowers always have some way to protect themselves from being eaten by animals, right? Like a bitter taste? Or a natural pesticide.” Where in the system had he come up with this analogy? He wasn’t even sure if he knew what he was talking about. “Or thorns,” he said, inspired.

“I suppose.” By now, Jamie must be wondering how her request for self-defense lessons had turned into a gardening chat.

“So, you’re like the rose. You’re vibrant and you taste good.” As soon as the words came out, he realized how idiotic—and perverted—they sounded. Jamie’s eyebrows flew up too. “I mean to animals. I think roses are edible to people, too, but what I’m saying is that you need to be like that rose. You need to grow a few thorns, so you can repel unsolicited advances when necessary. You don’t have to change your personality to become less appealing, but if you can scratch someone who comes on too strong, that’s all it’ll take.”

“It might take some time to figure out how to do that. That’s not my natural instinct. I’ve always avoided conflict and been shy around authority figures.”

“Well, we’ll work on it, all right? You’re probably right in that knowing you can defend yourself will give you more confidence to tell the Strikers on the ship to back off. And in the meantime…” Sergei looked her square in the eyes. “If anyone bothers you, let me know.
I’ll
be your thorns.”

She smiled up at him again, and his chest swelled with the realization that he would very much like to knock someone on his ass for her, to do anything necessary to protect her. Damn, he was obsessed. How had this happened so quickly?

“Thank you,” Jamie said. “It’s getting late, so I better go see if I can make that appointment.” She put a hand on his shoulder and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, her lips sending a jolt of desire through him as they brushed his skin.

He caught himself reaching for her and stopped. Still smiling, she jogged toward the front of the shuttle. That had been the kiss one gave to a friend or a relative. Nothing more. He knew that. Somehow that knowledge didn’t do anything to tamp down his desire. How was he going to survive wrestling on a mat with her? Limbs entangled for throws and escapes…

His head lolled back. It was going to be torture.

Chapter 6

Though Jamie felt safe with Sergei standing beside her on the moving sidewalk, she watched the lights and shadows of the city uneasily as they passed by. Twilight had come, and there were oodles of places downsiders could be hiding. Bounty hunters too. She didn’t
think
they would target her, but who knew for certain? She had been kidnapped once because of her association with the business. Sergei seemed edgy, too, squinting suspiciously at anyone who looked too long at them from the sidewalk running in the opposite direction.

When Sergei and Jamie had explained their plan to locate the person who had placed the bounty on the captain’s head, Ankari had responded enthusiastically. She had also agreed to Sergei’s suggestion—it had been more of a politely phrased demand—to keep the shuttle locked up tight for the night, with her and Lauren inside, so nobody could get at them. Jamie had noted with some amusement that Sergei’s demands hadn’t extended to Sergeant Hazel. He either figured she could take care of herself or didn’t particularly care if something befell her. Jamie liked Hazel, but could see where Sergei would be less of a fan, especially if he had heard that unflattering warning Hazel had given Jamie. She apparently hadn’t ever been privy to his side of the story. Or maybe it was all in his record, but she didn’t believe Sergei could be a decent person after what he had endured. He had been nothing but kind to Jamie, and she struggled to see him as a threat, even knowing what he did for a living. Most of the mercenaries killed people. She didn’t see much of a difference between them and an assassin, but perhaps she was being naive. Hazel had certainly glowered and objected to the idea of Jamie going off alone with Sergei.

“What time is the appointment?” he asked quietly.

“Seven p.m. We should make it in time.” Jamie held up her tablet with the map on it, the square building that represented the spa glowing blue. “I’m surprised we were able to get in, given that the secretary said Fergusson is leaving tomorrow for some trip.”

“He was male. Your sexy attire obviously worked.”

“Ha ha, right.” After rummaging in her duffel bag, Jamie had realized she had neglected to pack anything that would be suitable for a night on the town. She had three changes of shirts and coveralls, and that was it. She had ended up unzipping her jacket, thrusting out her chest, and leaning close to the camera. The white T-shirt fitted her well enough, but that was about all that could be said about it in regard to sex appeal. “I’m more concerned that he may have figured out who we are and invited us for other reasons.”

When she had grandiosely told Sergei that they should get an appointment to see the real estate and spa mogul, Jamie hadn’t been thinking about how important such a person would be considered here in his home city and how many people doubtlessly wanted to see him each day. Now that she’d had time to dwell on it, she worried that the whole thing had been too easy and that they might be walking into some kind of trap. Still, if this Fergusson captured Jamie instead of Ankari, he wouldn’t get anywhere with the captain.

“If it’s a trap, we’ll learn something,” Sergei said. “That he’s most likely the one who set the bounty.”

“And will it be useful to know that when we’re standing in front of a firing squad?”

“With my brawn and your brains, we’ll think our way out of such a situation.”

She snorted, waving away the words, though they secretly pleased her. She wasn’t sure what she might have done to make him think she had a brain, but it was a lot better than the “compliments” she usually got from the mercenaries, most concerning the grabbability of her breasts.

“But if I sense a trap, I’ll definitely try to get us out of there before it’s sprung,” Sergei added. “I’d offer to let you stay behind, but somehow, I doubt they would let
me
in on short notice. I don’t look nearly as attractive in a T-shirt.”

Oh, she imagined he filled out a T-shirt quite nicely. “You would just have to call up a female secretary.”

Sergei pointed to a stop in front of a glass-walled building lit up from within, some of the windows opaque with steam and others blocked by trees and vines growing up the inside of the structure. Twilight wasn’t keeping the locals from visiting, and numerous people stepped off the sidewalk ahead of them. Flying cars and sleek private shuttles pulled up to a door halfway up the side of the building, where a sign offered valet parking services.

Jamie hopped onto the platform and pointed toward an alley. “There’s supposed to be a back door that’s for service and appointments.”

Sergei gestured for her to lead. He walked behind her, guarding her back and watching everything to the side and ahead of them. It had been strange having a bodyguard when she had been with Ankari, and it was even stranger having one all to herself. She remembered his offer to be a thorn for her, the passion—almost relish—in his eyes when he had made it. He had probably been fantasizing about having an excuse to thump on Striker, but it had made her shiver a little. So had his agreement to teach her to defend herself. She had been nervous about asking him and never would have if he hadn’t proclaimed that he owed her a favor.

“Must be that door,” Sergei said.

The back of the building held several doors on several levels, some only for those who could fly up to them, but the one he nodded to had just emitted a man in a green business suit and a flaming yellow cummerbund. He looked like someone who had been there to talk about real estate or finances, rather than to be pampered by a masseuse.