Chapter 6

It stung. More so even than she imagined flesh-eating slime worm with corrosive spit would sting.

From the moment she’d seen him stalking around the shuttered resort compound, she should’ve known he was up to no good. He’d basically told her he was no good: bragging that he had poor manners, saying he lied when necessary, walking away at the saloon when she told him she was looking for her sister. And yet somehow, she’d thought that appealing to his better nature in her mission would make a difference.

How many times could she make this same mistake? People—and apparently aliens—didn’t care about justice and integrity and doing the right thing. They cared about covering their asses and their assets, that was it.

But she’d thought he was different. Why? Because she’d kissed him?

Tell that to all the Guardswomen and girlfriends who’d found their private photos splattered across forums against their will, betrayed by their lovers and brothers-in-arms both in the most heinous way possible. Some of the women had laughed at her, cynically, not even surprised anymore, when she said she was going after the perpetrators. She had the might of the MPs—those who upheld the law for those who defended the country—behind her. Or so she’d thought. So mistakenly.

Dejo Jinn hadn’t even pretended to be sworn to honor and service. She’d just imposed that on him because that was what she wanted, someone to care as much as she did.

Idiot.

As she studied the map again, she told herself that while she might want a partner who cared, she needed one who could disable distressors, defensive plasma arrays, maybe slime worms, in pursuit of intel on what had happened to Rayna and the other missing women.

Her own desires… Well, shit, she didn’t need or want desires, even if that kiss had been absolutely out of this world.

She growled under her breath at the unfortunate phrase. She’d never use it again, starting now.

Dejo had tweaked the drone data a thousand different ways, showing off all the angles of the grounds, its defenses and offenses, the central core they needed to breach to obtain physical access to the unheeded and corrupted data that was his stock in trade.

To her it was Rayna’s last chance. To him it was just profit.

Maybe she should be grateful. At least he had more investment than she’d managed to find in her last duty. No one had wanted to hear about the damage revenge porn did to its victims and the community around them. She’d heard one too many versions of “well, if she hadn’t taken that picture…” and that had been the end of her hopeful criminal justice career.

She almost hadn’t cared. Why fight for a country that wouldn’t fight for her? Probably she’d still be slinking around the outskirts of the base, drinking more whisky than she should, if Rayna hadn’t gone missing.

But this time, she’d win. She would allow no other outcome, slime worms and Dejo Jinn be damned.

He must’ve sensed the be-damned part, because while he fed her (the nutrients from the so-called nutrient dispenser were actually quite tasty) he not only explained his plan and how she fit into it, but he told her what he knew about the circumstances of the “brides” disappearances.

“I came here after hearing how Blackworm had broken into the IDA’s data troves, robbing, altering, and destroying data from the Alien Mail Order Brides program. The IDA admins as well as the council security in charge of protecting this world were frantic to cover up the extent of the damage and exposure. They locked down what was left of the outpost, without even attempting a full investigation, so I knew there’d be something to…” he sidelonged a glance at her “…scavenge.”

She’d thought he was going to say recover. And then she’d have to sneer at him again. But his honesty about his dishonesty brought her up short. He didn’t bother covering his ass because he was always one step toward hightailing it outta there at the first sign of commitment to a cause.

After his painkiller-induced confession last night, she wasn’t sure she could entirely blame him. At least not for wanting to get away from his past, however that had to happen. Of course he couldn’t relate to her need to find her sister, not when his own family and people had treated him so poorly, with no hope of better anywhere on his world.

A wave of disillusionment tasted of stale coffee on the back of her tongue. Was there no one in the universe fighting the good fight?

She steeled herself as she looked over the maps again. She’d never been deployed to test her training, had torpedoed her own vocation with a general discharge, would be locked away in an asylum if she ever mentioned to anyone that she’d kissed an alien. Yet she and a disingenuous data scavenger were the only hope for the missing alien mail order brides.

She spun the 3D map projecting from the tablet in front of her while she drank a cup of something Dejo had called pixberry slush. It reminded her of some weird kombucha bubble tea. They’d decided to wait until nightfall for their assault on the compound. Dejo said the day/night-cycle didn’t matter to the defensive measures, which would be formidable and unrelenting regardless of their working hours, but night meant less chance of running into humans who might freak out to discover aliens were a thing now.

She figured anything that involved even a side discussion of slime worms was going to be fucking terrifying.

At midday, he plucked the tablet from her hand and spun her chair around.

“Hey.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I was reviewing the plan.”

“You know the plan. You should rest and clear your head before we go.” He peered at her. “Did you sleep at all last night after I passed out?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Was a little freaked out being in a spaceship.” Not to mention replaying that kiss obsessively in her head.

“Go lie down in the nest—the bed,” he said. “Sleep. Meditate. Whatever.”

She scowled. “I don’t need—”

“You are warrior class, yes? Then you know the importance of a strong, focused assault.”

Did he mean her assault on him when he’d asked about kissing? She got up from the chair, not so much to obey him as to put some distance between them. But she couldn’t hold back a little flush of satisfaction that he saw her a warrior.

Although the warriors on his planet sounded like bitches. The satisfaction withered, and she let out a soundless sigh. “Fine. You won’t go without me?”

“I can’t,” he said. “The plan won’t work without you.”

Just when she hated him for being a self-serving sneak and liar, he said something true that was exactly what she needed to hear.

She edged past him to head toward the bunkroom at the back of the ship. To her consternation, he stayed right behind her.

She stomped on the brakes, and he bumped into her back when she rocked to a halt. She twisted around and his hands rose to grasp her shoulders, his yellow-ringed eyes wide.

“Forget something?” That not-Scottish burr of his deep voice sent a shiver over her skin.

She angled her head to look up at him. The shiver sank deeper, and her heart skittered a little. He was so much larger than she was; she couldn’t even imagine how big the others on his planet were if he was considered the weak one. “Why are you following me? We aren’t—” Her face was so hot, she thought it might send off its own laser beam. “I’m not kissing you again.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Why not?”

She sputtered, then instantly wished she hadn’t moved her lips that much when his fingers tightened on her arms. “Because…” She knew she’d had a reason, but it was hard to remember it when his body was so close to hers. That dark, spiced scent of his wreathed her like exotic wood smoke. Very exotic. Otherworldly, even. “Because we’re trying to clear our heads, that’s what you said.” Had that been a lie on his part? Did he have ulterior motives for sending her to his bed?

Another flex of his fingers and he dropped his hands to his sides. She rotated her shoulders back, aware of the lingering dumpster bruise, but more aware of the fading heat of his touch.

“I’ve never had a partner,” he said softly. “Have you? Any advice?”

For dating or mating or…? She straightened, putting more distance between them. “Honesty. Loyalty. You have to work at it. Even then, it doesn’t always work out.” Was she talking about her last boyfriend or her last days in the Guard? “You might have the right idea with the ‘me, myself, and I’ thing.”

He studied her, his inhuman eyes half lidded. “I don’t know anymore.”

She shook her head. She didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with his questioning right now. “Don’t leave without me,” she warned him again and retreated to the nest.

***

She swore she had just closed her eyes for a second when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She knew instantly who it was—somehow it seemed the memory of his touch hadn’t completely faded—so she didn’t flinch or take a swing at him.

Just as well, because he was outfitted in some scary tactical black. The baddest of the special forces guys wished they had access to these toys.

He watched her somberly as she pulled herself out of the too damned luxurious bed. “I refitted a survey vest and ships fatigues for you to wear.” He held out the matte black clothes. “Everything you need is in the pockets. And the vest has dispersant fibers.”

She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “That’s what kept you from dying from the laser attack.”

“It also confuses any security RF or EF fields. It won’t make you invisible, but it’s as close as you can get.”

She nodded. “How does it do against slime worms?” When he looked worried, she rolled her eyes and forced a smile. “I could take a slime worm if it gets me closer to Rayna.”

Before he could decide that she was a bad risk as a partner—or whatever he wanted to call her—she took the clothes and padded to the head. She’d been surprised at how…normal the ship’s bathroom looked. Like a particularly efficient, well-designed, and human mobile home. For Dejo, big as he was, it was probably a little tight. But she had room enough to freshen up, change, and wish there was a mirror so she could stare at herself and ask how in the hell she’d gotten to this place.

And how she was going to get out.

Well, there was only one door, so she supposed it wasn’t that complicated. She straightened the vest one more time. She’d sort of hoped donning the gear would drape her in special forces mystique, but her heart was pounding. And they hadn’t even gotten to the vaporizing wall of plasma yet.

With a sharp breath, she pushed out of the head. She found Dejo with his hip propped against the galley counter, scanning one more scan of his scans. She wondered if he still got the shakes. When she’d heard “data recovery specialist” and pictured him—unfairly perhaps—hunched over a keyboard in his grandmother’s basement, she’d never added cat burglar spy to the mix. But now she’d never be able to unthink the vision of him all in black, his big, lean body lounging but his edged features taut with concentration, bathed in the glow of the 3D display.

When he lifted his gaze to her, the yellow rings expanded around his irises as he looked her up and down, scanning her like she was another of his programs. But there was a husky timbre to his voice when he said, “I’m glad the fatigues fit.” He stalked toward her.

She canted her head to look up at him as he stopped before her. “I’m willing to do anything for Rayna,” she told him. “And I know the plan. But I think I should tell you, I don’t know if I can do this.” She bit her lip. “No, that’s not right. I will do this, but I don’t know if I will do it right.”

He raised his hands to her vest and methodically tugged at the straps that shortened the panels to her frame, checking the fit. “You’re clever and determined,” he said. “I’ve found that’ll go a long way toward getting you what you want in most galaxies.”

She gazed up at him. “And in the others?”

“Bribery and stolen key codes.” His lips quirked. “That’s why you have me.”

She couldn’t help but answer his smile. “What a team.”

“Partners,” he agreed. “Let’s go find where your sister has gone.”

“Find the data,” she confirmed.

They took her car. He’d explained how moving the Onoffon would risk drawing attention to themselves, not just by the compound’s protective measures but by everyone else in town. The IDA had maintained strict requirements for ships and alien crews coming and going, and had kept its secrets with an elaborate network of radar and cellular suppressors, interference boosters, and strategically crafted, good old-fashioned conspiracy theories that everyone knew were too wild to be true—but actually were.

Not saying it was aliens, but…

Following the drones’ scans, Dejo directed her to a nearly impassible Forest Service road and her crappy little two-door struggled mightily along the narrow, rutted path. But they made it. She gave the steering wheel an approving pat as they exited; instead of saying crappy, from now on she’d have to say scrappy.

Even though they’d pushed the seat back as far as possible, Dejo unfolded himself from the passenger side with a groan.

“Just as well we have to walk a little way,” she said. “You can loosen up.”

He stalked around the car toward her, still looking at his tablet screen. But when he was almost toe-to-toe with her, he reached out and unreeled one arm behind the small of her back. He pulled her in and brought his mouth crashing down on hers.

What it lacked in finesse, it made up for in urgency.

His lips parted on a deep inhalation, almost sucking the breath from her lungs. The velvety rasp on his tongue across the rim of her teeth made her knees wobble, and only his hands gripping the straps of her vest kept her upright.

Tasting the desperation along with the coffee and dark spice flavor of him, she tilted her head, opening wider to him, and in reply he stepped one knee between her thighs. She braced her hands on his chest. Somewhere, under the tactical gear and the leather coat, was the winged symbol in his skin and the healing hole where his heart should’ve been. If he’d been a man, a human.

When he finally lifted his head, she dragged in a shaky breath. The rasping draw brought a cool draught of air over her damp, swollen lips, adding the taste of a Big Sky night to the kiss. “What was that for?”

“For luck.”

“I thought you said it was the moments after a skirmish or disaster where kisses were most statistically likely.”

When he smirked, his lips looked softened and reddened. “Well, the moments before seem to have an even higher incident.”

“Let’s hope to avoid both,” she said fervently.

“Kisses?”

“Skirmishes and disasters.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never bet credits on hope.”

She scowled. “You’re the one who just kissed me for luck.”

After a thoughtful moment, he nodded. “My translator indicates that getting lucky means more than kisses in Earther speak.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push it, buddy, or we’ll have a skirmish right here.”

“Save it for the task ahead,” he warned, but a smile played on his lips. “Still nervous?”

To her surprise, when she shook her head, she was telling the truth. “You made me forget.” She peered at him. “Was that your intent?”

“No. I just wanted to kiss you again.” He turned toward the dark trees. “I won’t forget.”

His nerves or the kiss? As she followed him into the forest toward the compound, she had a new fear: that she’d never find another such kiss with the power to make her forget.