In her role as his bodyguard, Hadiiye rode in the back of car with him, while another crew member drove. Sitting, he was always a little shocked that she was just barely taller than him. So much of her length was in those powerful legs.
He turned to his right as scenery passed outside, trees, and then suburbs.
It was a bizarre ride. Djamila was right there beside him quietly, actually touching his shoulder with hers.
A year ago, one of them would have recoiled from such contact with a violent curse and a lot of muttering. Possibly both, depending on the timing. Here, he might have stolen a kiss before she would have reacted.
Of course, it might still get him punched, but he considered it, just imagining the raw shock on her face he would see before the anger lit.
“What?” she inquired. The tone was still hard and cold, but that was reflexive. There was no intent behind it.
Not yet, anyway. A kiss would change that. Not the worst practical joke he had ever played on her, but he didn’t feel like coming back to the shuttle with a fresh concussion and a black eye to explain.
Again.
“What did you two talk about?” he asked. “Before I got free from that used car salesman upstairs.”
“How the world had changed,” Djamila replied airily.
“There are days I wonder if you’ve been kidnapped and replaced with a clone, or something,” Javier griped.
“Zakhar and Farouz have made similar observations,” she grinned softly. “We all grow up eventually, Science Officer.”
Javier shrugged, unwilling to go down that path with this woman. Not today. Maybe not ever.
He was planning on going to other dangerous places. Partly to hide from the vengeance of wronged dipshits who couldn’t ever let something go. Partly to try to get rich. And famous.
Partly because Behnam, the Khatum of Altai, understood him. Understood his need to wander strange spacelanes, secure in him coming home to her.
It was an odd way to be a kept man, but they both knew it would be the only way that worked. At least for now.
Who knew what a year might bring? Or five?
Technically, he was supposed to meet Wilhelmina Teague, in a certain bar, on a certain day, in about seventeen months. Javier had no idea if he would be able to make it.
Much of him wanted to, just to see how things had turned out for a refugee from a previous century. But, at the same time, he didn’t think Behnam would be all that enamored with the idea of sharing him with someone like ’Mina.
How Djamila managed two men still baffled him, but he had to admit that she had turned into something closer to human, somewhere along the way.
“Are we doing the right thing, with Dr. St. Kitts?” he asked.
“And that’s the nature of growing up, Javier,” Djamila nodded. “The scout pilot I met five years ago would have never stopped to ask that question, secure that his opinion was the only correct one.”
“And you, crazed samurai warrior?” Javier fired back at her. His heart wasn’t in bickering today, so it was more reflexive than anything. Old lovers meeting on the street.
Odd.
“I cannot change who I am,” Djamila admitted. “Or what. But I can alter how I deal with others as I go down my path. I can choose to be less antagonistic, to keep my competitive streak quieter. Farouz understands stillness. Relishes it, in fact. I have learned much from him.”
Javier turned his head farther, to stare outright at this woman.
She smiled back at him, but it was a calm smile.
“And Rainier?” he asked.
“She will make the decision that is best for her,” Djamila replied. “If she joins us, all is well. If not, we will accommodate that, too.”
Javier shook his head in shock. Then, just because, he leaned close and kissed this woman on the cheek.
“Thank you,” he said honestly.
“For?”
She hadn’t recoiled. Hadn’t punched him. Those bright, green eyes that always reminded him of Holly, his first ex-wife, got a little bigger, a little more cunning, but that was it.
“For not killing me,” he said. “For helping me get to this place. I won’t say for understanding, because I’m not sure you are equipped for that, psychologically, but for being you, all those times I really needed someone like you as an anchor point in my life.”
She thought about it for a moment, eyes glazed over ever-so-slightly with some internal conversation.
“And now?” she breathed the words more than spoke them.
“Zakhar always treated us like it was a bad, sibling rivalry,” Javier laughed. “Two moody teenagers. Perhaps now we can be adults. I was raised an only child by my grandparents, while both my parents served. I never had a sister to bicker with, until you.”
She moved away from him now, but it was so she could turn her shoulders, her whole torso, more square. She studied his face for several seconds, seeking something.
“You’re serious,” she noted.
Javier nodded, silent.
“I only ever had rivals,” Djamila admitted. “Like you, an only child, but surrounded by many cousins, boys my size and bigger. Or other students, when there was only one spot at the top of the hierarchy. Later, the only challenge I had was being better than yesterday. Beating all previous high scores.”
“And?” he prompted.
“It will be an interesting challenge, Javier,” she said, grinning suddenly. “But I accept.”
“What’s so funny?” he challenged her.
“The thought of introducing you to Zakhar and Farouz as their new brother-in-law,” she laughed musically. “Of creating something new: a family.”
“You and me, against the world,” Javier nodded.
“Indeed,” she replied.
Javier stuck out a hand, awkward in the confined space. She shook it, just as constricted, but just as honest.
They were all a family, once he thought about it.
Of course, that made Zakhar Zeus, but it would also turn Djamila into Pallas Athena, and that fit.
After a moment, he grinned to himself.
That would make him Hermes, the Trickster.
Appropriate, since all of this could be seen as the galaxy’s biggest con job ever.