Swearing loudly, Qaiyaan scrambled upright, elbows throbbing from the impact. What was the woman doing out of bed? And in his cargo bay? The thin sheet hugging her curves exposed far too much skin for a ship full of nothing but men. And Noatak has his hands all over her. “Dammit, Noatak, what are you doing?”

Noatak merely quirked an eyebrow. “You think I dragged her out of bed?”

“I was looking for a bathroom.” Lisa struggled against Noatak’s grasp.

The first mate rounded on her, and Qaiyaan was half-way to the ladder without thinking. Noatak wasn’t known for keeping his temper. But the big man only spoke with deadly calm. “She had the conduit panel open. And I’m pretty sure she overheard Tovik and me talking.”

Qaiyaan’s primary heart sank. Shit. Knowing Tovik, they’d been talking about Lisa—whether ransoming her or ravaging her, neither would be good. He pulled himself onto the catwalk, his gaze hard on his first mate. “No matter what she may have overheard, she now thinks the worst of us with you dragging her through the corridors in a bed sheet. Why don’t you go check our heading? I’ll take her from here.”

Noatak’s nostrils flared, one bronze cheek twitching. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Yell if you need me.”

“I think I can handle a girl in a bed sheet, thank you.” Qaiyaan shot Lisa a conciliatory smile. Perhaps he could play everything down. Get her back to bed…

Her face remained hard.

Qaiyaan took a deep breath and gestured down the corridor. “Why don’t we see about getting you some clothing?”

Gripping the sheet over the enticing swell of her breasts, she turned and shuffled ahead of him. His gaze was drawn to the two pert mounds of her ass cheeks. Damn flimsy sheet. Why was he so turned on by her? He'd had female passengers aboard before and never felt a twinge of temptation. Denaida men could never consummate with non-Denaida. The prostitutes he and his men engaged were nothing more than accouterments to masturbation; three-dimensional pornography to be viewed, smelled, perhaps lightly touched or kissed, but never used for climax. The very act would put a non-Denaidan into a coma.

Perhaps it’d been too long since he’d indulged in a release. Might she be willing to assist? His mouth nearly watered as he watched her move, imagining that sheet sliding from her curves in a sensual slither, his hands molding against the indentation of her waist. Those bare feet wrapped around his backside as he drove himself into her…

Shaking his head, he attempted to banish his rather obvious arousal. She’d suffered enough already under Noatak’s brutish accusations. Not to mention she was terminally ill. How could he be so damned insensitive? He needed to keep his nether regions tamed. He walked slowly behind her, breathing deeply to re-center his thoughts. She trailed the lingering chemical scent of the cryo-pod, but underneath it, he detected a faint floral aroma that reminded him of Denaidan lilacs. Anaq. I definitely need some shore leave.

At the end of the hall, Mekoryuk came bursting out of the med bay, his face dark with worry. He spotted them, and his shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thank Ellam Cua she’s all right. She shouldn’t be out of bed!”

Qaiyaan shook his head at the medic and nudged Lisa toward his cabin. His palm itched against her bare skin. “She’s fine. I’ll have her back to you in a little bit.” He guided her into his quarters, suddenly wondering at the wisdom of being alone with her in his bedroom.

Lisa entered the small space and moved immediately to the far end of the room, turning to glare at him with her arms crossed and her chin down. “You’re a pirate.”

The accusation pierced him, though he wasn’t sure why. All he’d wanted to do was drop her at the Saluqan facility with her none the wiser about her rescuers. Be a knight in shining armor. Save a woman from her insidious disease as he’d been helpless to do with his own people. Maybe it wasn’t too late. He had no idea what she actually knew versus what she merely suspected. Moving to his closet, he rifled through his few items of spare clothing. “How’d you come to a conclusion like that?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she said. “You didn’t just happen upon my ship floating derelict in space.”

He chose his softest black tunic and a belt. His trousers would be far too long in the legs, but perhaps the shirt could serve as a dress. Turning, he held the pirelux silk up by both shoulders, assessing the length. “You’re right. We intercepted a distress call.”

Her full lips pursed in a scowl. “Right after you disabled my ship. Stop trying to double talk me. I’ve dealt with your kind before. I’ll tell you right now, there’s no one to pay a ransom for me, so you may as well drop me at the next space station.”

There was a hardness lying just beneath her surface, a solidness he could sense in the beating of her heart, and he knew he was talking to a woman who’d been through some anaq. Something deeper was at stake here, something she wasn’t telling him. Taking two steps forward, he offered her the shirt. “Wouldn’t a pirate have jettisoned your cryo-pod the moment the Syndicorp trooper ship appeared, hoping they’d stop the chase to pick you up?”

A black scowl settled over her features, and she snatched the shirt from his hands. “Why didn’t you?”

“They’d just blown your passenger ship to smithereens.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and laid the belt on the desktop nearby. “I had a feeling they might do the same to you.”

Her shiny dark hair had just poked through the neckline of the shirt. The scowl on her face slackened, and her creamy skin blanched bone-white. “Why would they do that?”

“That’s what I was hoping you could tell me. Any reason Syndicorp might want you dead?” He sat on the edge of his bunk. While his eyes watched her body language, his ionic sense reached out to feel the nuances of her heartbeat, breathing, and skin temperature. He had nothing close to the empathic power of a female of his species, but he could still sense physical changes that might give a clue about another’s hidden thoughts.

Lisa turned away from him, shoving her hands into the shirtsleeves. Her body was trembling, but her voice remained strong. “You’re lying. ”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“To get me to talk. To tell you my secrets, if I had any secrets.” Her heartbeat spiked, telling him she likely did have secrets. The shirt hem fell almost to her knees over the top of the wrapped sheet. Still facing away from him, she picked up the belt he’d laid on the desk next to her and allowed the sheet to fall in a puddle around her ankles while she cinched her waist. Those long, sculpted legs poking from beneath the shirt’s hem made him harden again.

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees to hide his bulging crotch. “So Syndicorp is after you.”

"I never said that. You attacked my ship and took me captive. But I'm telling you, no one will claim me." She began to roll up the too-long shirt sleeves as if she wore a man's clothing all the time.

Jealousy created a silent growl in the back of his throat as he thought of situations where she might wear another man’s shirt. He took a deep breath to shove the feeling down. “And I’m telling you, we didn’t attack your ship. We answered a distress call from the pirate who did. Then the Syndicorp troopers showed up and forced us to run. They destroyed everything we left behind.”

Turning to him, she narrowed her eyes. “If you’re not pirates, and you merely stopped to aid a ship in distress, how did my cryo-pod end up on your ship?”

“I never actually said we weren’t pirates,” he growled, tired of word games. He just wanted the truth out of her. He wanted her to understand that if Syndicorp was after her, he was on her side. Something she’d said in the med bay came back to him. “Why did you trust yourself to cryo if your chemistry interferes with electronics?”

A flush rose to her cheeks. “It… I’m… that’s probably why it failed.”

He rose and paced forward to stand over her. Even without his ionic sense, he knew she was lying. “What kind of cancer did you say you had?”

She licked her lips, her gaze sliding away, body breaking into a sweat.

"You don't have cancer." He didn't need her to corroborate his words. Beneath his palms, he felt the adrenaline flooding her system—the trembling muscles, the elevated heart rate, the shallow breathing. Even her nerve endings seemed to rise to the surface, to reach for him, telling him she was as aware of the closeness of their bodies as he was. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. He'd allowed himself to be manipulated by this woman. He'd made choices that endangered his ship and his crew because of her. Well, not anymore.

He clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him, her dark brown eyes wide and fearful. Good. Let her fear him. Whatever it took to get the truth out of her. "That passenger ship you were on had been gutted and filled with cargo. Even the med bay's equipment was removed. Seems to me whoever put you on board didn't care if you lived or died. Considering Syndicorp destroyed its own ship, I'm thinking they may have even wanted you dead. If you want my help, it’s time to tell me the truth.”