Thrill-Kinky (14 page)

Drax stopped in his tracks, wheeled around, fanned his wings. “Turn this thing around. I need to get back to San’bal.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“She’ll never survive on her own.” He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

He’d just admitted a weakness to his superior.

“Which
she
?”

“Any of the
Malcolm
’s crew. They’re competent in a dust-up, but they’re no match for two professional assassins.”

“They’re not. It’s a shame there’s not a lot we, as BIC agents, can do to help them.”

Drax took two steps closer to his superior, about as many as he could take without getting right into his face, which was tempting, but probably not productive. “Turn this thing around or I swear I…” Drax caught himself, realized he was about to propose trying to take control of the ship—which was much larger and more complex than anything he knew how to fly. Not to mention the likelihood of getting shot during the attempt. “I swear I’ll sit down and take a few deep breaths and try to come up with a reasonable plan.” He sat abruptly.

“She really got to you, whoever she is. Never would have taken you for a man who fancied cat-girls, just because it’s such a cliché.” Toor’s voice gentled. “If it’s the felinoid you’re worried about, though, she has the best chance of any of them. They’re hunters by nature, she survived Belesku once, and she’s more agile than any San’balese ever born, so I wouldn’t worry about the other assassin too much.”

“It’s Rita. I want to keep them all safe, especially since it’s my fault they’re in this mess, but Rita…she rescued me, patched me up, got me away from the Blemondians a second time by outmaneuvering a Fiero with an outmoded floater. She’s impressive. Intelligent. Brave. Compassionate.”

“And not bad-looking for a human, with the kind of mischievous smile I know you fancy. Hard to tell last night, but I saw holos when we ran the background check.” Toor nodded wearily. “She must be something special, though, beyond that. I know about you and women. You have your fun, you don’t pretend it’s more than fun, and you end it clean, especially if it’s related to a mission. You don’t let them get to you like this.”

“I feel responsible. She’s in danger because of me.” Oh, why not finish what he’d started? He wouldn’t sound any more foolish than he already did. “I’m not going to claim I’m in love with her. We were together less than a day, though it was an intense day even by my standards. But I think she’s someone I could love, and who could love me, given time. And I mean to have that time, not have one or both of us killed by Nitari Belesku or a mole within BIC before we even see each other again.”

Toor shook his head. “There’s nothing BIC or the Banjali government can do to protect her or her associates. I wish it wasn’t that way. Sentients shouldn’t be tools, but in our line of work, it happens. She and her friends are out of our jurisdiction.”

Drax knew what he had to do. “Fine. I resign. I’d say effective immediately, but I suppose I need to be debriefed first.”

Toor winced visibly. “You’re too good an agent to lose because your dick—or even your heart—is in an uproar about some alien woman you barely know.”

“I’m no use if someone within the agency is willing to betray an operation to see me dead.” He took a deep breath and said what he thought Toor needed to hear.

Which turned out to be what he needed to hear himself saying. “I’m loyal to Banjal, Toor. That hasn’t changed. That will never change. But sticking around now will only hurt Banjal, as well as increasing my chances of dying before I even learn why someone’s trying to kill me.”

“Not to mention that girl’s chances of dying because she tried to pull your wingtips out of the fire.” Toor sighed heavily. “Most people would just com for the medicos and get on with their day, if they even bothered to do that much. She’s a brave, good person, obviously, and she doesn’t deserve to be caught up in Banjal’s mess with Blemond. And you’ve been compromised. So you might as well get out. Help her and her friends.” He rose and, to Drax’s astonishment, gave him a quick, almost friendly pat on the uninjured shoulder. “Wind to your wings, Jalricki. When you find out who has it in for you, let me know. I owe someone a world of hurt. You may not be my favorite person, but you’re part of my team and I’ll be wing-clipped if I let anyone
else
kill you.”

Drax couldn’t help laughing.

Toor laughed with him. “The scary thing is I’ll actually miss you. The constant irritation kept me sharp.” He lowered his voice. “I should have told you before. I was away for so long because I started making arrangements to transfer the felinoid to someplace where there’s appropriate regen tech for her species. Which will officially be her home planet, but in reality will be…elsewhere. I’ll let you know at the last minute where you can find them.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Cheer up,” Mik insisted. “Xia’s out of the regen tank. Pretty soon her fur will even be back to normal. We’re going out for an outrageous dinner to celebrate, thanks to the generosity of the Banjali government. Sushi on New Tokyo, made with genuine fish, wild-caught in a clean ocean. What could be better?”

Rita couldn’t help smiling at Mik’s enthusiasm. Her captain adored eating in restaurants, a chance to indulge his passion for good food and wear his precious history-flash best. They’d never have been able to afford the place they were going tonight, though, without the Banjali government discreetly paying them for their help and giving them half of the longstanding reward for Nitari Belesku’s capture. (It wasn’t their fault she didn’t stay captured, but under the circumstances, half was more than they’d expected and they were grateful for that.)

But the smile was about all Rita could manage, and it faded quickly.

“You’ve hardly seen anyplace here except the inside of the hospital, though even our Xia couldn’t be too entertaining stuck in a regen tank.”

“I was worried about her.”

“We all were, but now that she’s home safe I figured you’d get out together and see the sights before we leave.”

Normally she’d be all over that, but she hadn’t been able to muster her usual enthusiasm for exploration. Hadn’t been able to muster much enthusiasm for much of anything. Not since she realized Mik had received several official communications from Banjal, and a goodly sum of credits—but though it was clear Drax had passed on how to contact the
Malcolm
, he hadn’t even thanked her for saving his ass. “New Tokyo is a boring human planet. What’s there to see?”

The outside hatch opened while she was talking and Xia bounced in, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers Rita couldn’t identify. “Really polite boys who flirt and buy me pastries and give me flowers just because I’m a felinoid, for one. Crazy architecture, lots of things duplicated from Old Earth…
really
old Old Earth and then more modern stuff. Lots of people wearing clothes that look like costumes. Some of the best shops I’ve ever seen! And flowers. But these are for you, because you look sad.” She handed the flowers to Rita then gave her a big hug. Anyone but a felinoid would have crushed the flowers, but Xia was able to arch her spine in some seemingly impossible way that kept them safe. “You have to come see this boutique I found. Their stuff would look great on you. You need something special for tonight.”

Normally Xia’s enthusiasm would be contagious. Even in her current grumpy mood, Rita was letting herself catch a little of it. The smell of the flowers alone was enough to lift her spirits. They smelled like a warm, romantic night, like stars over a garden, earthy and spicy and soft, but also musky, almost masculine.

Like Drax, a little bit.

Mik sniffed at the air. “Miss Xia, your admirer had fancy tastes, giving Vicarian lilies to a stranger. They don’t grow in more than a few places, and I’m pretty sure New Tokyo isn’t one of them. Very history-flash doing something like that. They’re into that in a big way on New Tokyo, along with all the ancient arts and such from the area they came from on Old Earth.”

“Thought you’d never been on New Tokyo before, Dad.”

He looked a little sheepish. “Might have dated a man or six from here in my single days. Always had a thing for the small, lithe flash type until my big, totally unfashionable lug of a Furagi showed me the error of my ways. Now you two girls get going. I’ve got to get ready for a big night on the town myself, and that might just require a long visit to the public bathhouse with my man.”

Xia was right. The boutique was just Rita’s style, on the rare occasions when she dressed up. The clothes were sexy, with enough smoothstyle touches they didn’t look trashy and enough creativity they weren’t the same old smoothstyle knockoffs you saw everywhere. It wasn’t in her price range, though, even with the Banjali windfall. Unlike Xia, who always spent like there was no tomorrow and then wheedled credits out of Mik, Buck, Rita and sometimes complete strangers, Rita liked to hold money in reserve for the inevitable tough times.

Besides, what was the point of spending a ton on a new dress? She’d impress her friends enough by dressing up at all. They were used to the casual Rita, dressed for a mechanic’s work or for rock-climbing and planet-hopping. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood to impress someone else at the moment.

Oh, she’d get over it. She’d make herself get over it. Give it a month or so and she’d be back in the game. But while some of the local guys who’d been fawning over Xia had also flirted with her a bit, she hadn’t felt like flirting back.

Not yet.

None of those local men—and some of them had been easy enough on the eyes—could come within five light years of Drax.

“Nothing here,” Rita said, although she said it while petting a silky cocktail dress in her favorite crimson. The fabric flowed like water. The cut was deceptively ladylike until you looked at the back, which basically wasn’t there, or you moved in it and showed off the slit sides.

“What do you mean? That dress is perfect for you.” Xia’s fur was still matted from the regen tank, and she’d lost weight and muscle mass as her body worked furiously for two days. Rita and Mik agreed that her bounciness and enthusiasm seemed more habitual than from the heart. But there were moments when she showed her old fire, and this was one of them. “Sleeveless, almost backless…shows off your pretty-pretty muscles.”

Rita petted it once more. “And the draped neckline adds a little oomph to the cleavage without trying too hard to show off things that aren’t there.”

Xia peered at her friend’s cleavage, or where it would be if Rita were wearing something revealing instead of a simple, loose jumpsuit. “Don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m glad mine are small.”

“You have six of them, sweetie. If they weren’t small, you’d have back problems.”

“Not to mention an awful time shopping on most planets. It’s good only the top pair develop unless we’re pregnant. Enough about me, you have to try that one on. You have to, have to, have to!”

Rita glanced at the price tag. “It’s kind of expensive, and I don’t need to dress smoothstyle to impress you guys.”

Xia plucked the dress from the rack and forced it into Rita’s arms. “I promised you I’d help you get in good trouble at least once a quarter. Squeezing your credit chit dry for a dress like that is a good start. And you have to at least try it on because it would make me happy. I almost died so you have to cater to me.”

She was grinning while she said it, her tail curved as it did when she was enjoying herself. She clearly felt great at the moment, but Rita flashed to Xia’s blood on her hands, Xia’s surprised face as her legs buckled under her.

If trying on the dress would make Xia happy, she’d do it. Stars, she’d buy the dress, even though she had no real excuse for it. “Blatant emotional blackmail,” she grumped.

“Worked, though,” the cat-girl chirped.

Xia herded Rita to the dressing room. “I’ll wait for you out here,” she said, bouncing up and down, all but purring. “I’m picking up a few things for myself.”

“Don’t forget to pay for them. This is too nice a planet to get kicked off, and the medicos want to see you one last time.”

Rita retreated into the dressing room and wriggled into the dress.

In front of the mirror, she spun around, loving how the fabric caressed her body, how the skirt flared as she moved. Despite occasional grumbles about her small breasts, Rita liked the way she looked, and she knew other people did too. But this dress took her from attractive enough to stunning, even with her favorite, slightly battered flat boots—comfortable and practical, but not meant to wear with a party dress. She could only imagine how good it would look with the right shoes. (Not that she had the right shoes. Xia did, though, and would let her borrow a pair. Which was pretty funny since Xia hardly ever wore shoes.) Oh stars, face it, she was going to buy the dress. She’d turn heads if she went out looking like this, and turning heads always soothed bruised feelings.

And sadly, her feelings were bruised. Unreasonably so. The man was a covert operative, who probably had to go all covert on her
.
That was just his version of reality. No reason for hurt feelings. She’d done it herself a couple of times, leaving a guy hanging when the
Malcolm
had a sudden change of plans. Unlike Drax, she’d had no excuse not to at least com the poor bastard who’d thought they might hook again. But logic only helped so much.

She turned around again, surveying herself from every possible angle. Yeah, this dress was made for her. “Eat your heart out, Drax Jalricki,” she muttered under her breath and flounced out to strut her stuff for Xia.

Only Xia wasn’t there when she left the dressing room.

Drax Jalricki was, holding a bouquet of red and white Vicarian lilies that filled the whole store with their scent of summer and romance. He wore slim silver-gray trousers and some kind of complicated silver-gray wrap shirt that accommodated his wings. With his golden skin and bronze hair highlighted by the silver, he looked like a fantastical sculpture made of precious metals.

Rita’s heart caught in her throat. She’d thought she’d remembered his beauty, the sheer impact of it on her senses. But she’d underestimated just how deranged the sight of him made her. Her lower belly filled with fire, and her nipples crinkled instantly, pushing out against the soft fabric of the dress. She’d dispensed with her bra, which didn’t work with a backless dress, so the nipple-salute was as obvious as a supernova in the next solar system. Her pussy softened and moistened in anticipation. Stars, it had done that when she hadn’t even spoken a word to him yet and he’d been bruised and battered and tortured, bound and gagged on top of a heap of recycling. It was worse now with him all cleaned up, healthy and dressed smoothstyle. Good thing she’d already decided to buy the dress, because in about a second she’d stain it.

There was only one thing to do.

Rita stomped over to Drax, glad at the moment for her sensible, clompy boots.

She reached up to his too-handsome face. His skin was slightly stubbled, hot against her own, more tempting than anything had a right to be. He leaned into her hand as if he needed to feel even more of her touch.

As if he hadn’t disappeared without saying a word.

For the time it took for her agitated heart to pound twice they stayed that way, his cheek cupped against her palm. It felt too much like he belonged there. Too much like he meant to stay when she knew he didn’t. He couldn’t. That wasn’t his life, and really, it wasn’t hers either. He happened to be on New Tokyo because Banjal needed him there, and she happened to be there because it was the closest planet to San’bal where Xia could get regen treatment. They’d both be moving on within a day or two. Probably one of them would have to leave so abruptly there’d be no time for goodbyes.

Again.

It was the way it had to be when one of you was a spacer. When the other was an operative, not always able to disclose the whys and wherefores of his movements, it was worse. She’d been a spacer her entire adult life, so she was used to this kind of non-relationship, there one day and gone the next.

So why did Drax, of all the men she’d been with, make her feel like a teenager with her first crush, possessive and irrational? Why did she suspect that his cheek would be burned into her palm just as long as their frantic alleyway sex would be burned into her fantasies? That the scent of Vicarian lilies and a few seconds’ tenderness might haunt her even longer than his body?

Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the feel of him, of his seeming affection after the silence. Or maybe she couldn’t bear how both her body and her heart wanted to believe this was something more than another chance for a hook-up, that somehow the universe could rearrange itself so they could have more than another wild fling.

She pulled her hand away as if the heat of his skin was searing her palm to the bone. Then she wound up and slapped him with all her strength.