The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (34 page)

Jamie passed the office, its door standing open, that single lamp still on, and she knew she was only a couple of rooms away from the one with Sergei. She halted next to a side table, realizing she was completely unarmed. What if she had to fight her way past Laframboise and who knew how many security guards to reach him?

She looked around for a weapon, rejected a statue of some naked fertility god, and backtracked to the office. There had been a hearth in there; maybe it had some nice ancient rifles mounted above it. Or—she peeked inside and raised her brows—a pair of even more ancient swords. Better than throwing statues around. She ran in, drew a sleek katana from its sheath, and trotted back into the hallway. With the sword raised over her shoulder—she had no idea how to wield the thing, other than a notion that the sharp side would be the most effective side—she crept closer.

She passed several rooms, then peeked into one and saw a familiar table, as well as a giant bed and a strange platform that had come out of the wall, the wall Sergei was chained to. He was still there and still naked, though he was sitting up, his wrists no longer bound. Jamie checked for guards, but all she saw was a woman’s body lying on the floor at the foot of the platform, her neck twisted at an impossible angle.

She stepped inside, and Sergei’s head whipped up. He had been using some laser to cut the last shackle, and Jamie lowered her sword, realizing that he hadn’t needed her, that he had already dealt with the situation.

“Jamie,” he blurted, alarm entering his eyes. Or maybe that was chagrin. He looked at his nude state and at the dead woman and grimaced. “What are you, uhm.”

Emotion thickened in her throat. Was he afraid she would judge him for being caught in such an awful situation? As if he’d had any choice. There was a haunted look to his eyes, and his wrists were macerated and bloody, as if he had tried with all of his strength to tear himself free.

“I came to rescue you,” Jamie said, waving the sword and striving for a light tone, afraid he had already endured some horrible torment. She noticed the metal baton on the floor near one of the woman’s outstretched hands.

Sergei swallowed visibly, some emotion tightening his throat, as well. “Good,” he said around the lump. “I… could use help with this last shackle.”

Jamie stepped over the woman and held out her hand for his laser scalpel—how had he managed to keep that?

Sergei drew up the leg that was already free and rested his arms on his knee, hiding his nakedness, or maybe hugging himself to fight off a feeling of vulnerability. The area stank of the woman’s musky scent. The jokes the smoking ladies had made suddenly made a lot more sense. Jamie didn’t know whether to hug Sergei or give him space.

“Were you the one who set off the alarm?” he asked quietly.

“I was.” Jamie didn’t mention that she had seen him naked and in shackles, or that half of the kitchen staff had.

“It was timely.”

“I’m glad.”

He watched her work on the shackle for a moment, then lifted his gaze to her face. “Jamie? You know back on the ship, when I, ah, blurted that I loved you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She had barely processed it then, and even since then, there hadn’t much time to think about it. Did she feel as strongly about him? Would she have come on this crazy mission with him if she didn’t?

“That probably alarmed you,” he said, “and maybe I shouldn’t have said it so soon, but…”

Jamie swallowed, the idea that he might now withdraw that proclamation distressing her. Her eyes blurred, and she barely saw the final cut of the scalpel.

The last shackle clanked to the floor. Sergei looked down at it, then back up at her again and smiled faintly. “I meant it.”

His smile and his words filled her with such relief that it surprised her with its intensity. Yeah, it dawned on her. She
did
love him.

She dropped the scalpel and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He returned the hug, burying his face against her neck, holding her as if she were a life preserver. Moisture brushed her skin, and she blinked, tears of her own threatening.

“I love you too,” she said, her voice rough.

The building shuddered, the lights flickering again, reminding them that they weren’t safe yet.

Sergei kissed her neck and pulled back. He used his palms to wipe his eyes, and she winced as she got another look at the abrasions on his wrists. He gathered himself and slid off the platform.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his tone back to normal and the usual stoic soldier’s expression back on his face.

“I poked around with my temporary spy earlier.” Jamie waved to the robot near the table.

“Ah.” The faint smile crossed his face again.

“I think the more pertinent question here is—”

“Who’s attacking the building and how do we get out?” Sergei asked.

“Actually, I was wondering where your clothes are.”

Sergei looked down at his nude form, then at his fallen adversary. “She neglected to tell me.”

“Rude,” Jamie said.

“I thought so.”

“Perhaps you could use her robe.” Jamie didn’t want him to touch that perfume-drenched garment with anything except that laser tool, but she thought the image might amuse him. He looked like he could use amusement.

“I… think not,” was all he said, then strode around the room, poking into drawers and armoires.

“As to who’s attacking us, I’m not sure. I set off a false alarm, but that wouldn’t make the building shake. It definitely seems that there’s more—” Her pocket buzzed, and she jumped. Then, feeling silly, she pulled out her comm unit. “Hold on.” She thumbed it on. “Maybe Ankari has an idea as to what’s going on out there.”

“
We’re
going on here,” Ankari said. “We’ve knocked out the shields around the tower, but police aircraft are homing in on us, so we should leave soon. Any chance you’re ready and could come up to the roof?”

Sergei nodded to Jamie, though she was too surprised to answer right away. “I—how did you know we needed rescuing?”

“You need rescuing? We just came to pick you up. With explosives.” Ankari’s voice grew dry. “Apparently, this is how it’s done in Mandrake Company.”

“It’s either now or never,” the captain growled in the background. “We’re about to be unwelcome on this planet for more reasons than illegal food deliveries.”

“
About
to be?” Ankari asked. “You just knocked the water tower off the top of that building.”

“Not me. That was Frog. You ought to know his style by now.”

“Jamie,” Ankari said, “can you make it to the roof? Is Sergei with you?”

“He’s here. We’re technically not imprisoned at this point, and I believe that’s Finance Lady Laframboise dead on the floor over there, but a pickup would be nice, yes. But a bunch of security guards were running up to the roof with rifles a couple of minutes ago.”

“They’ll be gone by the time you get there,” the captain promised.

“We’re coming then.”

“Do you want Laframboise’s head to mount on your wall, Mandrake?” Sergei returned to Jamie’s side and gave her a quick hug, as if they were about to head out for an evening stroll together and weren’t talking about decapitating bodies.

“My interior decorator just made a horrified expression,” the captain said. “Leave it there. The word will get out fast enough about the death.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jamie turned off the comm and stuck it back in her pocket. She arched her brows at the nude form standing beside her.

“No clothes that will fit me anywhere,” Sergei said apologetically.

“Oh, your nudity doesn’t bother me.” The rest of the crew might have a snarky word or two for him, but she would stand in front of him if need be. “I was mostly wondering how long it would take for your wrists to heal and whether those injuries would preclude giving massages.”

“If you still want a massage from these hands—” he grimaced down at the blood on his palms and wrists, “—then I would be most happy to give one to you.”

“Good.” Jamie handed him the sword and waved toward the hallway. “The promise of that experience is one of the two reasons I came up here looking for you.”

“What was the other?”

She kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you.”

He hugged her again, then they strode into the hallway, which still lay oddly silent and serene. Jamie was surprised that none of the security men running to their duty stations had come to check on their boss. Or, given what she knew about the woman now, maybe she wasn’t all that surprised. Maybe Laframboise’s security men were all secretly hoping some assassin would do exactly what Sergei had done.

They rode up to the rooftop in the lift. Despite the captain’s promise to clear the way for them, Sergei insisted on striding out first, his sword up and ready to protect her.

“Cute,” came a familiar voice from a few feet ahead of him.

Jamie peeked around Sergei’s shoulder and spotted the captain, Sergeant Hazel, and Sergeant Striker. Other Mandrake Company mercenaries stood by the ramp of the pink shuttle, their rifles pointed in different directions around the rooftop. Not that any of the security guards, all down on the cement and unmoving, some of their bodies still smoking from laser fire, were in a position to threaten them. At first, Jamie was surprised that the shuttle and the small crew it had brought down had managed to destroy Laframboise’s shields and mow down all of her people, but then she spotted the
Albatross
hovering in the sky to the side of the tower, its gray predatory bird shape looking far larger and more intimidating than it did up in the vastness of space.

“You did say there’s no dress code on your ship,” Sergei said.

The captain grunted. “I may need to rethink that regulation.” He pointed them toward the ramp.

Jamie didn’t need any urging, but she smiled when Sergei rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the shuttle. Sergeant Hazel’s eyebrows twitched upward. Remembering that Hazel had given Sergei a rough time about his
interest
in her, Jamie wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked. Even though the mercenaries were presumably paying strict attention to their duties and making sure nobody snuck up on them, more than a few men stared, and a couple of jaws dangled open. Hazel’s mouth twisted, and she shook her head, but she didn’t seem shocked.

Despite all he had gone through, Sergei smiled and looked quite pleased with himself. Jamie let him have his moment. She was expecting big things from the massage.

Epilogue

“Will this do?” The hotel clerk stood aside, allowing Sergei and Jamie to see through the open door.

Potted bird of paradise plants and bougainvillea bushes lined the walls, with their wide fronds and vines stretching across the ceiling, red flowers adding a soothing fragrance to the air—even Sergei found it so, and he had never been one to stop and smell the flowers in the spaceport shops. Expansive windows overlooked a desert setting, with a sparkling blue oasis, complete with palm trees and flowering cacti. The view was fake, of course, but he could pretend they were on some exotic planet, rather than at a space dock where the
Albatross
was receiving minor repairs, courtesy of the police fighters chasing it away from Dekaron VI. Either way, it was a
nice
room for a space dock hotel, and he was fairly certain the plants were real.

Jamie wandered in with her overnight bag, sniffed a flower, and nodded at Sergei.

“It’ll do fine,” Sergei told the clerk, then stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.

In addition to the “view,” the room offered a massage table and a large bed with much nicer linens and blankets than his cabin on the
Albatross
featured. A fountain gurgled softly in one corner, with a few lilies floating atop the water. Birds and crickets seemed to chirp in the distance, their voices punctuated by the occasional croak of a frog. To the side, a large bathroom with a stone grotto theme had all the amenities one needed, including a spacious shower with benches inside. No need to take a soap dispenser up the butt when bathing as a pair in there.

“The vines have thorns.” Jamie smiled shyly at Sergei.

“Naturally. What do you think of the massage table? Will it do?”

Jamie strolled over to it, the first dress he had ever seen her wear swishing around her calves with each step. She had gone shopping with Ankari earlier, and he suspected the garment was a new addition to her wardrobe of grease-stained T-shirts and coveralls. It pleased him that she had wanted to buy something nice for their evening together. Though he didn’t plan for either of them to be clothed for long, he did admire the way it hugged her hips. Other body parts too.

“Is it sturdy enough?” she asked, distracting him from his admiration of the view.

She bent down to prod one of the articulating legs, then did something that elicited a squeak. The unit presumably folded so it could be moved from room-to-room. He’d had to request it specifically when he booked their lodgings.

“It only has to hold your weight,” Sergei said dryly.

“Oh, is that all? I was imagining… something else.” Her smile grew even shier.

“Were you?” Sergei strolled over to join her, his soul brightened by her smile, and the fact that she didn’t seem to see him as tainted, after his recent experience. “With me, right? Not Fergusson’s thug?”

“Spartak.”

He gave her a mock scowl. “I’m going to give you such a thoroughly amazing massage that it’ll wipe all memory of
Spartak
and his limp-wristed attention from your mind.”

“Promises, promises.”

Sergei was about to rest his hands on her hips and kiss her, but she held up a finger.

“One moment, please.” Jamie dug into her bag and pulled out her multitool. She turned the table on its side and tinkered with the loose joint.

“You brought a tool on our first overnight trip?” Sergei scratched his three days’ worth of beard growth, which, like his hair, was freshly trimmed for this occasion. With no further need for a disguise, he was back to his usual brown, as well. “I’ve heard of people packing toys, but not tools. Not exactly.”