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RICKA HATED SEEING the hunter leave. The man had been way more impressive up close, and her skin still tingled where he’d touched her.
Libby walked over to the recently vacated table, stacked the glasses on her tray, and wiped off the surface. “I thought for sure he was going to stick around.” She nudged Ricka’s shoulder. “Admit it. You liked him. You would so break your rule if he came back in here and asked you to leave with him.”
“What? No.”
“Liar.”
Oh yeah. She was definitely entertaining thoughts of what it would be like to spend what remained of the evening and the following day in the arms of the sexy Tarron. “It doesn’t matter. He’s probably already headed to his ship.”
The only reason visitors stopped on Rivean was for fuel, goods, or repairs. The out-of-the-way mining colony was a layover, not a place travelers wanted to call home—on purpose. The same reason she’d been determined to return to Earth. To find a place she could call home.
She knew she’d never see him again and reined in her disappointment. Seriously, what had she expected? A date? A ride around the planet in his spaceship? She needed to push all thoughts of him out of her mind. Not so easy when his masculine scent still lingered in the air and she could picture those gorgeous and intense catlike eyes.
“Good night, ladies,” one of the miners said as he held the door open for his friends. “You sure you’re going to be okay if we leave?” He gave them both a hopeful smile.
“We’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.” Ricka waited until they were outside, then hit the sensor to secure the lock. “What do you say we lock up and head home?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve had way too much excitement for one night and can’t wait to get some sleep,” Libby said.
Twenty minutes later, Libby entered from the back room and set her purse and coat on the counter. “You about ready to go?”
Ricka set the remainder of the glasses she’d finished washing on the rack under the sink. “Let me get my things.” She opened the cabinet behind the bar and pulled out a small travel pouch and jacket.
“Where’s Orum? I didn’t see him cowering in his office,” Libby said.
“He left about five minutes ago, grumbling about needing to be somewhere and said to lock up.” Leaving them to close the bar was nothing new. Lately, it was his usual ritual.
“Fine by me. The less I have to deal with him, the better.” Libby tugged on her coat.
“Totally in agreement with you there.” She was still irritated her boss had disappeared instead of sticking around to help her when she’d been accosted by the Klorthon.
Ricka slipped on her jacket and followed her friend outside into the chilly eveningair. After securing the door and keying in the lock sequence, she tugged the collar of her jacket close to her neck. The planet had a dry atmosphere, comparable to the desert areas on Earth, only hotter. While some of the days could be real scorchers, the evenings tended to be cooler, sometimes frigid.
They reached the narrow alleyway leading to the small lot behind the building where she’d parked her transport.
“Is it me, or is the walkway darker than normal?” Libby asked, sounding worried.
“Damn, the solars are out again. And not only the ones on our building—they’re out on the supply store next door too.” Even when the lights worked, Ricka dreaded having to use the thin walkway. It was the only way to reach the lot unless she wanted to walk two blocks down to the next street, then circle back behind the strip of other businesses.
The solars went out all the time. No matter how much she complained about the lack of lighting, her cheap boss wouldn’t invest in any decent solars for the outside of the building.
The Tarron’s parting words immediately came to mind, and she snagged Libby’s sleeve, pulling her to a stop. “I don’t like it. Maybe we should go around.” There would be more light and possibly a colony patrol vehicle making rounds. It would be a lot safer if she heeded her nagging feeling of dread.
“It’s freezing, and I’m exhausted,” Libby whined.
She couldn’t dispute her friend’s reasoning. Home and a warm bed sounded really good. So why couldn’t she shake the feeling something bad was going to happen? “I still think we should...”
“Come on, it’s not far. There’s still enough light to see where we’re going. It won’t take long if we hurry.” Libby picked up her pace and headed for the lot.
“Wait for me,” Ricka hollered. She’d barely caught up to her when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed around them. Shit, I knew it. She jumped, her pulse racing.
Libby stopped and whispered, “Did you hear something?”
“Yeah.” Ricka glanced behind them but didn’t see anything. The noise stopped, and there was no way to tell from where it had originated. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.” She reached for Libby’s hand and urged her forward.
The Klorthon who’d attacked her earlier appeared in front of them, his massive frame blocking their path. He took a menacing step forward. “Did you miss me, female?”
Fuck. Not good. Ricka’s heart pounded as she drew her friend to a stop.
Libby gasped and tightened her grip. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.” She sounded near hysterics.
“What do you want?” Ricka said, trying not to show the fear spiraling through her system. She stepped in front of Libby and pushed her backward.
“You and I have unfinished business,” he said.
“I told you before, I’m not interested.”
He licked his lips. “I like your spirit and will take great pleasure in breaking it.”
Options for escape dashed through her mind. They could try to outrun him, but his legs were longer, and he’d catch them in no time. The pleasure house was a few blocks away and always open. It was a long shot, but if she could distract the Klorthon long enough, Libby might be able to get help.
Since becoming a bartender, she’d managed to befriend several of the women employed at the palace. At first it had been a little embarrassing to hear them openly discuss the differences between the various alien species and human male anatomy. Ricka had learned, in most cases, the male parts functioned the same with only slight differences in their appearance.
They’d assured her one thing remained the same—a direct hit to the groin took down any male, no matter what species or size. Ricka had never had the opportunity to test the theory, and right now, she hoped the information was accurate.
She spoke softly so only Libby could hear her. “No matter what happens, you run when I tell you.” She directed her attention to the warrior. “Like I said, still not interested.”
Irritation burned in his arrogant gaze. “I will have you. Make no mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was not slicing your throat when I had the chance.”
Libby tugged on her sleeve. “What are you doing? Are you nuts?”
Buying us some time, I hope. “Just be ready.”
Every instinct she possessed screamed for her to run when he stalked toward her. As soon as he seized her arm, she jerked her knee upward and nailed him hard in the groin. A roar ripped from his throat. He shot her a murderous look and gripped his crotch before dropping to the ground.
“Run!” Ricka shouted and shoved Libby back toward the front of the building.
They hadn’t made it ten feet before a transport appeared and another Klorthon jumped out, blocking their escape. He grabbed Libby around the waist and clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her scream. He hoisted her off the ground and tossed her easily into the back of the vehicle.
“No, no, no.” Ricka reached for her friend, but a sharp pain shooting across the back of her skull stopped her. The warrior had a handful of her hair and was yanking her backward. Apparently, incapacitating the male didn’t have a long-lasting effect.
She reached for her knife, but he was faster. He grasped her wrist and pinned it to her side as he slammed her against his chest. “You will pay for the pain you caused me.”
#
EVEN THOUGH SYNGE DIDN’T regret his interaction with Ricka, it had cost him valuable time. After leaving the bar, he’d been unable to track Molock. If his suspicions were correct, he was still lurking around somewhere, possibly observing from a distance. It was something he would do if their roles were reversed.
He walked toward the pleasure house, hoping to give anyone monitoring his actions the impression he was seeking female companionship and would be busy for several hours. Once inside, he bribed the man guarding the door to allow him to keep his weapon and let him leave via the back exit.
The darkness from the early morning hours and the overcast sky provided enough shadowed areas to hide his movements as he made his way to the rear of the bar. If his instincts were correct, this would be the perfect place for Molock to attempt Ricka’s abduction. If he was wrong, he’d lose only a little time and would rest easier knowing she was safe.
He found a place next to a building on the opposite side of the lot, where he could survey the situation without being noticed. It didn’t take long before the miners he’d seen earlier showed up and loaded into a small shuttle, leaving one other transport in the lot besides his.
Shortly after their departure, he heard the females’ voices and saw them approaching through the narrow passageway between the buildings. Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed when he spotted Molock creeping along the back of the structure. He doubted the warrior traveled alone, which meant his crew was somewhere nearby. As much as he wanted to protect the females, he needed to wait for the others to reveal their presence or risk being outnumbered.
Originally, he planned to let the Klorthons take the women, then follow them back to their ship in case they had taken other females. Afterward, he would contact the colony patrol, inform them of the situation, and hope they would provide adequate support.
What he hadn’t factored into his perfect plan was Ricka. He listened to her interaction with Molock and was once again impressed by her intelligence and bravery as she attempted to outsmart him and shield her friend. The knee to Molock’s groin was a good move but would probably get her killed.
After Molock grabbed her, Synge had expected him to drag her to his transport. Instead, he shouted to the other Klorthon, “Go back to the ship before we are discovered by the colony patrol. I will meet you there.” Molock kept Ricka’s arms pinned to her sides as he lifted her around the waist and carried her to the rear of the building. “Now, human female, I will teach you how to behave.” He lowered her feet to the ground, then spun her around and slammed her back against the wall. His mouth crushed down on hers, covering her screams as he roughly cupped her breast.
Synge could barely contain the rage ripping through him. “Sheraaat,” he cursed in his native tongue, then withdrew his repeater and fired. The shot pinged off the wall several feet above the Klorthon.
The warrior howled, deep and feral. He whirled, yanking Ricka in front of him, using her body as a shield. He clamped his fingers around her throat to keep her in place. “You have no business here, hunter.” His chest heaved, and his narrowed orbs blazed in a kaleidoscope of silver. “The female belongs to me.”
“The woman is a colony citizen.” Synge lowered his repeater so it was level with the warrior’s head. “Let her go, Molock.”
His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. “My people don’t abide by their rules. We take what we want.” He tightened his grip on Ricka’s throat. “Leave now, and I won’t kill you.”
“That is not going to happen. Release her, and I will let you leave unharmed.”
Molock grinned, slipped his other hand behind Ricka’s back, and slid out the hidden knife. He adjusted the grip on her neck to allow enough room to press the blade against her throat. “Drop the weapon, or I will spill her blood.”
Ricka clutched the Klorthon’s large arm. “Shoot,” she hissed.
Synge groaned. The odds of firing a shot and wounding Molock without hitting her weren’t in his favor. Even if he lowered his weapon and offered him freedom in exchange for letting her go, she’d never be out of danger. The Klorthon had staked his claim and wouldn’t freely give up his bounty. Not one as appealing as Ricka.
If Synge had any hope of saving her life, he would have to battle for the right of ownership. A battle to the death where the winnings went to the survivor.
According to the ancient warrior’s code, if he won—and he had every intention of doing so—she would belong to him. She’d be his responsibility and his to safeguard. “I invoke the rite of challenge.” He paused, then added, “To be done in the old ways, without weapons.”
Molock furrowed his brow. “What need do you have for one mere human female?”
“The reasons are my own. Do you accept the challenge or not?”
Molock’s gaze locked with his, and he slid his tongue along her cheek. “The woman is delicious. Too bad you will not live long enough to taste her for yourself.” He tossed the knife to the ground. “I accept.” He shoved her aside. “We will continue your lesson once he is dead.”
“Uh.” She roughly swiped her jacket sleeve across her wet face and moved away from him.
Synge was glad to see her anger and disgust. It reassured him she wasn’t in shock, nor had Molock damaged her sanity. He shoved the repeater back in the holster and removed his long jacket before tossing it aside. Next, he bent forward and released the fastener keeping the leather secured to his thigh. He barely had time to unbuckle the belt and set the weapon on the ground before Molock rammed his shoulder into his midsection, knocking him backward. Winded, he groaned and found his footing. With an uppercut motion, he drove his fist into the other man’s face.
Molock circled to the right as he wiped the blood trickling from his nose and licked it from his fingers. “You fight well, though it will do you no good. I still plan to kill you.” He growled and dove at him again.
Synge stepped to the side, raised his leg, and kneed him in the ribs. He heard bones crack and knew he’d hit his mark.
Molock clutched his side and roared, then leapt at him again. This time, Synge wasn’t fast enough. He took a hard hit to the shoulder, and pain radiated along his arm.
The fight grew vicious, and they ended up pounding each other with their fists. Finally, Synge was able to get the advantage and nailed Molock in the jaw hard enough to send him flying sideways. He tripped and landed face-first on the paved surface.
Synge leaned forward, chest heaving, and braced his hands on his thighs. Molock pushed up on his hands and knees, the movements slow and jerky, until he managed to stand again.
“Watch out,” Ricka shouted.
He turned in time to see Molock swiping at him with the knife. Fuck. So much for honor. The first swipe barely missed his chin. The second attempt, a strong backward swing, caught his side below the rib cage.
Synge clenched his teeth and smothered a pain-filled roar. He clutched his side and staggered backward.
“Now you will die.” Molock stepped forward, arm poised above his head, ready to deliver another blow.
“Hey, asshole,” Ricka shouted and hurled a rock at Molock’s head.
The action distracted the Klorthon long enough for Synge to dive to the ground and draw his repeater. He rolled on his side, wincing at the sharp pain, and aimed. “Drop the blade.”
Molock stared at the weapon, his expression contorted with rage. “This isn’t over.” He spun around, and took off running.
Synge figured Molock would head for his ship and issue commands to launch. If roles were reversed, it was what he would do. He needed to get to his own shuttle, and fast, if he wanted to track the warriors before they left the planet. His side throbbed and his body shook, weakened by the blood loss. He’d suffered knife wounds before. The injury wouldn’t kill him, but he risked blacking out if he didn’t seal it and stop the bleeding.
#
THE SON OF A BITCH escaped. Ricka had no idea what a “rite of challenge” was and she didn’t care. Any other time, she might have found Synge’s act heroic, but right now, she thought it was stupid. She’d been tempted to chase after the Klorthon and find Libby, but common sense intervened. She was no match for a handful of warriors. Besides, the man on the ground clutching his side could be dying. There was no way she’d walk away and leave him to fend for himself, especially after all he’d done to help her.
She raced across the lot, then quickly knelt beside him. “Why the hell didn’t you shoot him, or at least stun his ass?” Surely his weapon had some kind of hurt-but-don’t-kill setting.
“I was afraid of injuring you.”
“A lot of good it did you. Now you’re hurt.” Concerned he might bleed to death, she tapped his arm. “Let me see.”
He studied her for a moment, then moved his hand away from his side. “I need to get to my ship.”
She lifted the edge of his shirt and pushed it off his abdomen so she could exam the wound. “This looks deep. You aren’t going anywhere if we don’t slow down the blood flow.”
“I can make it. I require a little assistance.”
She glanced around for something to use to apply pressure. She knew there was nothing useful in her vehicle. Other than his jacket, which was too bulky, she couldn’t find anything. She glanced down at her shirt, got an idea, and mumbled, “Desperate times...”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. It’s a human saying.” She undid the buttons and slipped out of her jacket, wishing she hadn’t the minute the cold air hit her bare arms. “Would you mind closing your eyes?”
“Why, what are you doing?”
“Trying to save your ass. Now shut them.” As soon as he complied, she tugged her shirt over her head, only to find him staring at her breasts.
Heat burned a path along her throat and cheeks. “What part of...” She shook her head in exasperation. “Never mind.” After folding the fabric in half, she pressed it against his wound. “Sorry,” she said when he winced.
She quickly put on her jacket, then rolled his shirt back into place. “You need to apply pressure.” He placed his hand on top of the shirts. “Thank you, Ricka.”
She loved the unusual way he pronounced her name. Maybe it was the way the implant translated his language, or when he spoke, it sounded like he’d purposely rolled the “R” across his tongue. Either way, it gave her shivers. “How did you know what to call me?” It wasn’t as if they wore name tags in the bar or had mentioned it during their earlier conversation.
“I overheard the waitress.”
Observant and sexy. So she hadn’t imagined him watching her earlier. Her insides warmed.
“Is that your transport? Synge asked.
“Yes. Why?” She glanced at the outdated vehicle. The exterior was rusted and badly worn, but her father had taught her enough about the mechanical workings for her to easily maintain it and keep it operational.
“Take me to my ship.”
Are all hunters so demanding? “Look, whatever your name is, you need to get to a med unit.”
“Synge.”
“Synge?”
“It’s my name.”
Yeah, the name suited the fantasy outlaw image she’d had for him.
“I can address all my medical needs if you take me to the space bays.”
She hesitated. “If I take you to your ship, I want something in return.”
He gazed along the rest of her body, seeming amused. “What do you desire?”
“Not what you’re thinking.” She hated how easily he could make her blush. “I want you to help me find my friend.”
He scrutinized her for several seconds, then nodded. “Agreed.”
He’d answered a little too quickly, setting her nerves on edge. He might be an enforcement officer, but did that mean she could trust him? “Really? You don’t know anything about me and you’re going to help, just like that?”
“Yes. It is now my duty. I am bound to protect you.”
From what she’d heard, the hunters were supposed to be the good guys, part of a policing force for this quadrant. Did part of his duty mean he’d taken an oath to help those in need? “Okay, let’s go.” After retrieving his coat and holster, she leaned against his side so he could drape his arm across her shoulder. Bracing her hand against his back, she helped him to his feet. She paused to appreciate the way his firm muscles rippled underneath her touch. Wow, he must work out a lot.
When they reached the transport, he leaned against the metal frame so she could open the door. He slid into the passenger seat and groaned.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he hissed, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes.
Ricka tossed his belongings in the small compartment behind the seat and got in next to him. If she wanted to save Libby, she needed to keep him alive. Once they were moving, she poked him in the arm. “Hey, you need to stay awake.”
He lifted his head and glared at her. “Female, are you always this pushy?”
“Only when I’m trying to keep someone alive.” She grinned and concentrated on the deserted road. Tightening her grip on the control handles, she pushed the transport speed past the posted limit.
“Please avoid drawing the patrol’s attention. They will ask too many questions and cause us a delay.”
He was probably right. The planet’s law enforcement worked for the mining corporation. They might not do anything to the hunter, but she lived here and hadn’t reported the incident with the Klorthon. She’d experienced their loyalties firsthand the day they’d escorted her from her home. They could, and would, make her life more of a hell than it already was. “Hang on. I know a shortcut.” She eased off the accelerator, turned down a side street, and concentrated on the deserted road. “You knew the Klorthon, didn’t you? That’s why you called him Molock. It’s his name, isn’t it?”
“You are correct.”
“Was he the reason you were in the Nexus?” He didn’t answer, and she thought he might have passed out. She cast him a quick glance and caught him studying her intently. “I get it. You aren’t allowed to discuss your missions, right? Can you at least tell me why he took Libby?” She paused, hating the way her voice cracked. “Please, I need to know.”
