The Dracons' Woman (17 page)

“They had me for three days.  I only know because that’s what I was told later.  Honestly, if I could have given them what they wanted, I would have.  But I couldn’t.  Nor could I tell them that I was not Ellicia.  I knew if I did they would simply kill me and then go after her.  They were going to kill me eventually anyway because I couldn’t give them what they wanted, so I saw no reason to give Ellicia to them.”  Lariah shrugged again, that small lift of her shoulders that seemed to indicate that it didn’t really matter.  “I figured if they killed me, while still thinking I was Ellicia, then they would have no reason to go after her because they’d think she was dead.  And I would win.  In spite of everything they did to me, I would beat them.”  Another tiny shrug.  “I needed something to hang onto.  That was it.”

Garen was horrified by the story Lariah was telling them, but even so, he felt pride blossom in his chest.  This small, delicate, utterly feminine woman had as much, or more, courage than any warrior he had known.  He did not know exactly what she had endured, but it was obvious she had been tortured.  Yet she had not only withstood her captors, she had found a way to beat them.

“It was Ellicia who discovered where I was, though I don’t remember very much about it,” she continued.  “I heard yelling, weapons fire, fighting.  I remember when they…well…released me.  That was…difficult.  After that, I don’t remember much.  I was in a healing tank for a couple of weeks.  I needed to be in longer, but the Director had me pulled early.  The man who had me wanted me, or rather, Ellicia, back.  He almost succeeded twice.

“The Director, Ellicia’s boss, had already sent Ellicia off-planet, and was sending me away as well.  He had some clothing for me, all of it too big because he’d gotten it from someone he knew personally, not from the agency.  He said it would help disguise me.  He wanted me to cut my hair and dye it, but I refused.”  Lariah looked up and met Garen’s eyes with a wry smile.  “I suppose my temper got the better of me.  But I wasn’t going to be allowed to return to my home, so I lost everything I had except for my handbag and what was in it.  I had to leave Earth, so obviously I lost my job, I didn’t know where my sister was and still don’t.  I couldn’t even be allowed to heal first.”  Lariah shook her head.  “When he told me I had to cut my hair and dye it, I dug in my heels and decided I’d lost enough.  I wasn’t letting go of anything else, even if it was just my hair.  The Director got a little angry with me, but I just didn’t care by then.  Eventually he got a wig and a little canvas bag for the clothes he’d found for me.  I got dressed, got a few orders from the physician and some pain meds, and almost before I knew it, I was on the next shuttle.” 

Lariah blew out a long breath and fell silent.  It took a few moments for Garen to realize that she had finished telling them all she planned to tell them.  He didn’t want to press her, but there were a few things he needed to know.

“What is the man’s name,
sharali
?” he asked, making an effort to keep his tone as gentle as possible.

“Stefan Loggia,” Lariah replied without hesitation.  “He’s head of the biggest organized crime syndicate in that part of the galaxy.  He’s very powerful, very wealthy, and a complete sadist.  He also likes pretty things.”

“Pretty things?” Val asked, a dangerous note in his voice that caught Lariah’s attention.  She shook her head.  “No, not
pretty things
as in me.  His tastes in women seem to fall more in the tall, dark, skinny dominatrix category.”  Lariah’s tone was wry, but the tightening of her fists, the tremor that ran through her body, told them that the woman she had just described had been a part of what was done to her.

 “When I said ‘pretty things’,” Lariah continued, unaware of the silent signals the men had picked up on, “I really meant
things
, like ancient artifacts, rare gems, antique jewelry, art, the types of things you would see in a museum.  He likes to keep a lot of the items he steals.  Unfortunately, he never keeps them on Earth or any other IALEC Member Worlds, so Ellicia has never been able to catch him.” 

“So, this director, he just put you on a shuttle to the other end of the known galaxy with nothing but a few borrowed items of clothing?”  Garen asked.

Lariah looked up at him, noting that his eyes were beginning to glow.

“No,” she said, placing one hand over his on the seat between them.  “It wasn’t like that really,” she said quickly.  “He did not allow me to return to my own home because he knew the hospital was being watched.  He promised that he would hire a service to pack up all of my belongings and have them stored indefinitely.  He asked me where I wanted to go and I told him.  He purchased all of my tickets, pushed through all the identification documents, and gave me cash for the journey.  A lot of cash.  He also set up a bank account for me here on Jasan.  I don’t know how much money he put in it, but he said it would be enough for any needs I might have.” 

Lariah rubbed her thumb back and forth across the back of Garen’s hand, soothing them both with the gentle gesture.  “I made him sound worse than he was because I was angry,” she admitted.  “The truth is that when I say ‘he’ did these things, I meant that he, personally, did them.  He did not want anyone else in the agency to be aware of my travel plans, when I left or even what I looked like when I left the hospital.  He believed that there was a mole in the agency and I agree with him.”

“I do not understand why a rodent infestation is an issue here,” Garen interrupted testily. 

Lariah stared at him blankly for a long moment as she struggled to understand what he was talking about.  She began to shake her head when it finally hit her.  She grinned, a real honest grin that eased some of the tension in the ground-car. 

“A
mole
is a term used to indicate a spy, or infiltrator,” Lariah explained.

“I see,” Garen replied, not really understanding the term, but glad that the misunderstanding had made her smile.  He wished he could drop the subject, but he still needed more information.

“So the Director suspected a traitor?”

“Yes.  Loggia knew too much about Ellicia…her talent, where she lived, and who she worked for.  The one oddity is that he didn’t seem to really know what she looked like.”

Garen lifted a brow in silent question and Lariah shrugged.  “Like I said, we do look alike, in some ways.  We’re both the same size, have the same build, and our facial features are similar.  But there are also big differences.  My hair is long and red, hers is short and light blonde.  Also, my eyes are green, Ell’s are blue, and she doesn’t have a single freckle to her name.”  Lariah frowned.  “I suppose that whoever gave Loggia the information about Ell had never seen her.”

“Did the Director ever tell you where Ellicia went?” Trey asked.

“No, and I didn’t want him to,” she replied.  “I was afraid that if Loggia got hold of me again I might not be able to hold out a second time.  I didn’t want to have any information that could hurt Ellicia.”

“Your courage is humbling,” Garen said softly.  “I have never heard of its like.”

Lariah shrugged and refused to meet his eyes.  He glanced at Val, then met Trey’s eyes in the mirror.  They both nodded.  Lariah had told them an incredible story of courage, strength of will and character.  But she had not told them what was actually done to her during her captivity.  She had skipped right over that part.  Unfortunately, that was the part she needed to tell them, to open it up and let it go before it could grow and poison her mind. 

Garen was considering the best way to go about pressing the issue when he suddenly realized they had almost reached their destination.  Later then, he promised himself.

Lariah was relieved to note that the ground-car was slowing down in front of a long, rambling building set between two low hills and surrounded with trees.  She knew they were on the ranch property because she had been looking out the window when the ground-car passed beneath the tall, arching main gate.  Rather than head east toward the house, Trey had turned west and driven for quite a time.  She wasn’t exactly sure where she was, but that they had arrived at their destination meant that she did not have to continue her story.  Not that she had any intention of doing so anyway.  It just meant she didn’t have to argue about it.

As soon as Trey stopped the vehicle, Lariah leapt out and hurried around to the back, waiting impatiently for one of the guys to open it.  The handle was far too high for her to reach, though she was considering trying to climb up the back of the vehicle during the few seconds it took for Trey to appear.  Trey noted her anxiety, but made no comment.  He simply opened the back gate so that Lariah could check on the sleeping dog. 

The moment the gate was opened Lariah leaned into the ground-car, placing her hands on the dog’s head for a long moment as she closed her eyes and focused.  Satisfied that the animal was resting peacefully she stroked his ears as she whispered softly to it. 

She felt Garen and Val join Trey behind her without conscious thought, so it took her a moment to realize she was hearing an extra set of footsteps just before a rough, craggy voice began swearing angrily.  At least, she thought it was swearing.  The language was unfamiliar.  The tone was not.

Lariah straightened and turned around to see a man who looked as rough as his voice sounded.  He was only a few inches taller than she was, and very thin.  He had bushy white hair, a bushy white mustache, a day or two’s growth of white stubble on his cheeks, and dark blue eyes.  Lariah guessed he was human, perhaps 50 years old.  He looked fiercely angry as he got his first good look at the condition of the dog in the back of the ground-car. 

“Whoever did this ought to be horse-whipped,” he said in English.  Lariah frowned, narrowing her eyes at the older man.  She didn’t know what “horse whipped” meant, but she didn’t like the sound of it. 

“I believe one abused animal is more than enough,” she said archly.  She wasn’t entirely certain she should let this man touch the dog, no matter how great a vet he might be.

The man looked at her, his blue eyes widening with surprise.  He stared at Lariah for a long, silent moment before smiling gently at her.  It was an expression that Garen, Val and Trey were positive they had never seen on Doc’s face before.

“I promise you honey, I would never hurt an animal,” Doc said, his rough voice as gentle as he could possibly make it.  “Horse-whipped does not mean what it sounds like.”  Doc looked back at the dog. 

“This here your dog?” he asked Lariah suddenly.  Lariah’s eyebrows rose.  She was sure that Garen and Val had already told Doc where the dog had come from.  Therefore, he knew the dog did not belong to her.  She studied the man’s profile as she considered his question.  Then she got it.

“Yes,” she replied firmly.  “This is my dog.”

Doc nodded once.  “Then lets us get him fixed up properly,” he said, his eyes never leaving the dog.  Even so, Lariah felt his approval and, in spite of the rough manner and looks of the man, it warmed her.  Once again, she had that feeling of acceptance. 

That evening Garen, Val and Trey sat on the patio watching Lariah with her new companion.  It had been an interesting day all the way around, but by far the most entertaining part of it for the three men had been the afternoon.  After Doc met Lariah.

Doc was a grouchy old human male who had worked for the Dracons for 50 years.  Although the man looked 50, he was much, much older.  There were many things about Doc that few knew, but that was Doc’s business.  His position on the ranch was physician, plain and simple.  He’d treated humans, humanoids, animals of every description, and a few things that were difficult to classify.  He’d been well known and highly respected at one time.  But tragedy had struck the man’s life, and it had very nearly destroyed him. 

Eventually the Dracon brothers had found him and offered him a post on their ranch.  They promised him privacy, anonymity, and a place to heal both animals and people if that was what he wished.  They weren’t sure he would take their offer, but after a time, he’d shown up on their doorstep.  He’d introduced himself to them as “Doc” and they’d taken their cue from him.  Doc he had been ever since.

One thing everyone knew about Doc was that he never liked anyone.  He was unfailingly tender and gentle with women, children, and animals while treating them, but he never responded to overtures of friendship.  He wanted to heal, and be left alone. 

Until he fell head over heels for Lariah at first sight. 

As Lariah had guessed, Garen and Val had filled Doc in on the condition of the dog and what Lariah had done to save it before Doc had reached the ground-car.  How much that story influenced him in her favor Garen didn’t know.  But he was fairly certain it was her adamant refusal to leave the animal’s side, even when he had to do a bit of surgery on some of the older wounds that hadn’t healed correctly, that really cemented the budding friendship.  Lariah had swallowed hard and stuck to her post at the dog’s head, petting and soothing him even though he remained in the deep sleep Garen and Trey had put him in.  Doc was concerned that anesthesia would be too dangerous given the animal’s poor health, so they kept him in a deep, painless sleep.

Once the broken bones had been annealed and all of the wounds treated, Lariah had insisted on cleaning the animal before he was awakened.  Garen was frankly surprised to discover that the dog had a gorgeous coat of short, incredibly soft fur colored a deep, rich gold with distinctive black stripes giving him the appearance of an Earth tiger.  His face was black, as were his large floppy ears and one rear paw.  Garen had to admit that, once clean, he was a handsome animal.