For the first time since he’d met Ghwenn, she had nothing to say. She remained silent while Crank arranged for the bodies—because a second assassin was recovered by the crew—to be taken to the morgue for processing. Both of them had killed themselves rather than be questioned.

Completely fucking psycho.

And elf girl had nothing to say about it.

She sat on his bed. Hands on her legs. Calm as could be.

“Captain wants me to report.” Crank usually would have told him to fuck off, but truth was, he wanted a word with Jameson, too.

“Do not let me prevent you from doing your duty.” She kept her words monotone.

“There will be guards stationed outside.” The assassins were dead, and yet the fact that they’d made it on board at all, and as far as they did, left him leery.

She didn’t seem to care. She didn’t reply.

He left, eyeballing the two ensigns. Both veterans. The circlets they’d taken from the bodies around their brows. “Don’t open her door for nothing. No one goes in but me or the captain.”

A crisply saluted, “Yes, sir,” was the reply. The double gesture of respect brought a scowl that he wore all the way to the war room. At least that was what Crank called it. Large space off the command center where the captain held court. It was where they held meetings or got their dressing down. Usually Jameson, hands tucked behind his back, listing things he couldn’t do; No more telling the port commander he’s a noodle-sucking vegetarian. No making the ensigns cry. No, you may not punch people if they take the last pudding when Ivan makes a batch.

Crank didn’t bother announcing himself and walked in. Already a crowd had gathered. The captain, arms crossed, glared at the wall screen of the morgue where the bodies were being robotically dissected. Einstein had parked her hover chair close to the table and leaned over it, gnarled hands flying. Damon was also there, hologram in front of him, sound bubble around him, as he relayed orders. Given he was present, that meant Lazarine was off shift, probably sleeping before she had to work. Rounding out the group was Natalya, who had her hands busy at a console.

Jameson turned his gaze to Crank and barked, “How the fuck did those hired killers end up on my ship?”

It took but a nudge from Crank’s wireless transmitter to get the computer screen to switch views. Images of the hull of the vessel appeared. “We found their craft affixed to the underside. It’s equipped with a very high-tech cloaking device. Kept us from spotting it.”

“And what about once they boarded? How is it not a single one of our detection systems noticed a pair of cloaked assassins wandering around? They’re pretty fucking distinctive.” Jameson didn’t hide his anger. As captain, he took an infiltration personally.

“While the others were digging into their bodies looking for answers, I’ve got a team sifting their clothes.” Crank had his best looking for any more toys like the circlets.

“What of our guest?”

“The stowaway did not sustain injury.” He kept his words formal. Professional. Crank resisted the urge to check on her again. She was fine when he looked only moments ago. It didn’t ease the knot in his stomach.

“Was she the target?”

“Probably.” Why else wear something on their heads that emitted a dampening field that rendered even Crank’s nanobots blind.

“Has she said who might be sending assassins after her?” Jameson asked.

“She hasn’t said a fucking thing.” Not even thank you.

“What the hell possessed you to be wandering around with her like that?” Jameson paced.

“Didn’t realize it was a problem. It shouldn’t have been.”

No one expected an attack.

“Who is she really, and what kind of reward is being offered that they’re willing to risk boarding the Moth?” Jameson mused aloud.

It was Einstein, their resident techy person, who answered. “There are no posted rewards currently on the Obsidian Exchange.”

Jameson shook his head. “You wouldn’t find Driadalys assassins on the exchange. They only work for their kind.”

“I’ll question Ghwenn.” Ask her why someone would want to kill her.

Tell me who and I’ll kill them first.

“Find out what she knows. Someone had the balls to invade my ship. I want names. Locations.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we’d dumped the woman. It’s not too late to do so still.” Not too late for him. He’d not forgotten his vows to Sky.

Yet.

All eyes turned to Crank.

For some reason he shifted, as if uncomfortable. “Why are you all staring at me? It makes the most sense.”

“If you think getting rid of the elf is smartest, then why didn’t you let the assassins have her?”

Because he’d seen red. Because danger appeared, and it was the incident with Sky all over again.

He couldn’t let her die. But he could damned well get rid of her. “If we leave her ass on the next inhabited moon, we won’t have to worry about more hired mercenaries.”

“Only if they get the message in time. Were you planning to advertise the fact she was available for kidnapping?” Natalya’s sarcasm matched her expression. The petite woman in charge of communication had slightly tanned skin and an exotic appearance, the bright mauve of her wide eyes offset by the gleaming blue buzz of her hair. She was also tough as the rivets on the hull.

“We are not ditching her somewhere she’ll be trapped. It was our fault for being too complacent with our security. With the upcoming nuptial trip for our client, it’s best we found out now. Wouldn’t want the bride to be stolen.”

Einstein snorted from her spot. “Steal her how? She’s rather hard to hide if carting her around the halls.” The Farras were a rather large mammalian creature said to resemble the extinct hippopotamus of Earth. Just as vicious when ill-tempered, too. Most people avoided irritating them, because it helped to stay alive.

Jameson didn’t laugh. “The client believes a rival is going to try and stop the marriage from happening.”

“A Farra can’t exactly crawl around the maintenance tunnels on the ship. We’d notice them.”

“A smart intruder will claim they’re with the wedding party. Provide adequate identification and we’ll never know the truth until too late.” Einstein provided a plausible scenario. The darkest version of course.

“We will ensure that the entire wedding party is identified upon boarding,” Damon claimed.

“They won’t allow us to tag them or examine them too closely,” the captain noted. “We will have to be subtle.”

At least they were thinking. Crank tapped his wrist and took a peek at the screen that holographed onto his skin.

Ghwenn sat the same as before. Knees together, hands atop her thighs. Sitting straight, looking at a point left of the camera.

Hadn’t moved at all.

As his finger moved to turn the screen off, there was motion. Ghwenn turned her head and stared right at him.

At least that was how it seemed. Yet she couldn’t know where the camera hid. It was but a pinprick in size. Wicked nanotechnology. Expensive as shit. But the fact that he could run it without wires…

“…don’t you think?”

The silence drew Crank’s attention, and he switched off the camera to find everyone staring at him.

He’d missed something. Probably wouldn’t have cared if he’d heard. So he put on his usual glare and grumped a, “Don’t look at me. Whatever it is you want, I ain’t doing it.”

“You are to question our guest and report what she says.”

“Rather not.” He’d rather stay far, far away from her. The captain had no idea what he asked.

“Didn’t ask if you wanted to.” Jameson played captain in that moment, his gaze flinty and brooking no excuse. “You will speak to her and get some answers.”

Speak? His tongue definitely wanted to get involved. It just might not be forming words.

Striding through the ship, his expression enough to scatter all in his way, Crank found himself twisting the ring on his finger. It had felt loose earlier. Now, he could barely turn it. It tightened like a noose.

A reminder.

You’re married.

Technically a widower.

Who never stopped loving his wife.

Never would.

But Sky was gone and not coming back.

However, Crank was still here. He knew she wouldn’t want him mourning her forever. Yet how to stop the conflict in his heart?

The ensigns outside his door started to salute.

His finger shot out. “Go,” he snapped.

“But—”

“Was I not clear the first time?” Deceptively calm words.

“The captain said—”

Crank grabbed one by the shirt and slammed him on the door. “Dismissed.” He dropped him.

The ensigns scattered.

He paused a moment in front of the door and said, “Open up.” The voice recognition unlocked the portal to his room.

A step over the threshold and he noticed Ghwenn had moved from her place on the bed.

Something hit him hard, and then she tried to run past him.

Seriously? He arm-barred her passage. She bounced off his arm and he let her hit the floor. Then glared at her. “And where do you think you’re going, pixie?”