Destroy?

She knew her father would be angry, but she never expected this kind of retaliation. What would the captain do? What of Abrams? She couldn’t read her new husband’s face, and his emotions were locked down tight. Helplessness suffused her. The blaring sirens didn’t help the situation.

Abrams stepped in front of her. Probably about to tell them what they could do with their threats.

“If she leaves with you now, will you promise to let the Gypsy Moth and its crew go?” Her new husband didn’t even have the courage to look at her before offering her as a sacrifice.

“That can be arranged.” Lord Kletuus, her father’s closest advisor, agreed.

“Guess we don’t have a choice then.” He didn’t even sound apologetic.

She stared at him in shock, and not because of what would happen to her. She’d been ready to volunteer to go with the delegates to save him, but to have him offer her? After he’d just married her?

He grabbed her by the upper arm and began marching her up the ramp.

She turned to hiss, “I can’t believe you’re giving me to them.”

He leaned close and whispered, “Like fuck I am.” The disdainful snort went well with his tone. “When I say move, hide.”

Hide where? What was he planning? Did it matter? He had some kind of trickery planned that didn’t involve handing her over. It was enough to keep her hope alive.

They reached the top of the ramp, the triumphant smile of Kletuus enough to clench her fists. How she wanted to wipe that smug expression. Instead, she tried to remain calm. Her husband asked for trust.

She gave it to him.

I trust you.

His fingers squeezed. “Now.” The only word of warning he gave before he shoved her back down the ramp. He didn’t follow. Rather, he uttered a bellow and dove inside the ship.

Was he insane? She paused mid-ramp as the captain bolted past her cursing, “Goddamn it, Crank. Why can’t you ever stick to the fucking plan?”

Plan? They had a plan? Why did no one inform her of this plan?

Crash. What happened onboard the tiny ship?

She eschewed hiding and stepped toward the ramp, only to lunge off as a body came soaring out.

A slight stumble and she got her feet under her in the landing bay. Rather than return to the ship, she listened. She heard more bellowing, a high-pitched scream, and then another body landed atop the first. Followed by a third and fourth. Crank eventually emerged holding Kletuus, the leader of the delegation. He dangled the man, whose florid face matched the scrap of fabric shoved in his mouth, from one hand.

“Hey, pixie, how does your father feel about hostages?” Abrams asked.

As if they were expendable. However, the rest of the fleet wasn’t as callous they soon discovered.

The armada of the Summer Planets and the Gypsy Moth entered a wary truce and began negotiating for the surrender of those being held captive.

There was anything but peace between her and Crank.

As he oversaw the removal of the prisoners to the brig, she harangued him. “Why didn’t I know about your plan?” Why let her think he’d hand her over?

“Because.”

“That’s it? Because. You faked a marriage to me.” She shook her arm at him, the tattoo on her skin a stark mockery.

“Actually, the ceremony was real. Had to be since we couldn’t be sure if they’d managed to hack us. In case they were, we put on a convincing show.”

All an act and he thought it amusing. She slapped his metal arm, which hurt her more than him.

He cast her a look. “Ow?”

“There is nothing entertaining about what you did. You’ve antagonized my father. Do you have any idea what he might do to you?”

“Kill me?” Crank offered.

A passing crewmember snorted. “If he wants to take a shot at the Chief, he’ll need to get in line. Lots of people want to kill him.”

“Bunch of whining pussies.” Crank stomped after the crew who’d taken the prisoners. She grabbed hold of his arm. As if she could stop a walking behemoth.

He took a few paces before sighing.

“What now?”

“We’re married.”

“Technically. Captain will annul it as soon as he’s sure we’re out of danger.”

“Or we could stay married,” she boldly suggested.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“I know.” She couldn’t give a proper answer as to why she wanted to stay married to this man.

This beautifully complex man.

Who’d gone through an elaborate hoax…for what? Why the impromptu wedding if his plan all along was to hold the delegates hostage?

He left, and she paced the room they shared as she mulled it over. Trying to understand. Sure, the marriage gave Jameson the option to refuse to hand her over; yet, at the same time, they had to realize her father would never respect it.

As if he’d condone a marriage to a human.

Jameson had to know that. Surely even Crank did, too.

Truly their easier path was to send her on her way. Yet Crank refused.

He put the entire ship at risk for her.

Why?

When he entered the room a long while later…she was pretty sure she knew the answer.

Which was why she lay naked on the bed and muttered a husky, “I’ve been waiting. Husband.”