Do not go back. That phrase kept repeating itself in his mind as he took long strides away from the brig.

What possessed him to kiss her? The second she plastered her mouth to his he’d known he should shove her away. How dare she use seduction? How dare she exploit his weakness?

His body betrayed him. Damn it for craving her touch. Her kiss.

He’d come close to taking her against the wall. Thrusting into her body, indulging after abstaining for so long. And he would have fucking loved it. Despite the time apart, he all too clearly remembered how it felt to be deep inside her. The pleasure…

Good thing he’d come to his senses.

Barely. Even now, he fought an urge to turn around, to release her from her prison, to free her from her clothes. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Requiring distraction, he spent the next few hours overseeing repairs, strategizing with his officers who had varying ideas of how to move ahead now that the citadel appeared to have ceased chasing them. The question remained: For how long.

Had the Rhomanii given up, or did they bide their time? His ship needed to recover. Not to mention they’d been lucky so far with no fatalities. However, he knew their luck wouldn’t last, not if they had to face the citadel again.

Abrams had a simple plan. “Toss her ass out an airlock.”

“We can’t kill her.” The very idea clutched his heart in a vise. Funny, because a few days ago he’d have agreed with his chief of engineering.

His first mate had a different suggestion. “I’ll bet we could get a decent bounty if we turned her in.”

Not usually into biological entity trading, most of his crew would make an exception for the woman they knew had betrayed their captain.

“We’re not selling her either.” Not until he got more answers.

“Then how do you plan to deal with the next citadel we encounter?” asked Einstein. She sat in her hover seat, her withered legs tucked under a blanket. A youth spent on an asteroid with little gravity and fewer nutrients had left her with certain physical disabilities, but it didn’t impair her sharp mind. “The ship can’t handle another series of streaks. One, two, yes, but if we need three or more, there’s a chance we’ll suck the power core dry, and then where will we be?”

Adrift in space… Kobrah tucked his hands behind his back rather than scrub his face in fatigue. It pulled at his limbs and, combined with the turmoil in his head—and heart—made it hard for him to come to a decision that was best for everyone.

Who was he kidding? He knew what had to be done. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Meanwhile his crew fired questions at him.

“How long does the captain plan to keep her aboard?”

“Where are you taking her and the child?”

“Have you decided to make another go of your marriage?”

He replied to the last. “Of course not.”

“Then what is your plan?”

That was the question with no clear answer. What did he want to do with Dara? Throttle her? Kiss her?

His crew had a point, though. He needed to make some kind of decision. One that wouldn’t put his entire crew and his reputation at further risk.

“Let’s grab a few hours of sleep and reconvene. I’ll give my orders then. Alert me at the first sign of anything happening.” While they appeared to have lost the chasing gypsies, it could be they just waited for the crew of the Moth to lower its guard.

Despite his mind being tuned to the woman in the brig, he headed toward his room instead. Even he knew what a bad idea it would be to confront her again until he’d gotten some rest and managed to regain control of himself.

Entering his quarters, he halted. Not because Michonne, Damon’s wife, was inside. He wouldn’t have entered at all if Michonne was there alone. But she had a companion. A few feet tall. Arms crossed. Expression stubborn.

Familiar…

“I want my mother,” the child stated.

Before Michonne—with an exasperated look—could answer for what he feared might not be the first time, he did. “Your mother is unavailable at the moment.”

That drew a flashing blue-eyed gaze. For a moment he expected the harangue to turn his way. For her to launch into a temper tantrum. Apparently, he knew nothing of children.

A smile stretched Karolyne’s lips as her arms stretched wide and she ran at him. “Daddy!”

Er, daddy? He didn’t have time to process the word before he was being hugged. “Eep.” An odd sound emerged.

From him.

Worse, he didn’t know how to react to the pint-sized person latched onto his legs. Did there exist a special word or tool to detach them?

“About time you got here. Your daughter is as stubborn as you,” Michonne exclaimed, making her way past him to the door.

He almost retorted, “Not my daughter,” but held back. Even he knew better than to bark that claim with said child still latched on. “Where are you going?” he asked, surely not panicked at all at the thought of being left alone.

“To see my husband. I’ve been minding the child most of the day, which is more exhausting than you’d think.”

He happened to glance down and caught Karolyne sticking her tongue out at Michonne. “You can’t leave,” he couldn’t help but bark.

A command spoken to a retreating backside. Michonne waved. “Best of luck and don’t worry. If she kills you with questions, my husband will mourn your loss as he takes command.”

Not exactly the most reassuring endorsement. The door sealed shut.

He glanced down at the child still wrapped around his legs. How long would this last? Should he perhaps peel her off? And if yes, where should he start?

A gap-tooth grin met his puzzled one. “I was waiting for you, Daddy.”

“Um.” What to say? Even he had enough common sense to not reiterate his belief they were not related. Impossible.

Yet, Dara stated it with certainty. Let’s say he entertained the idea, why not tell him? They’d talked of having children. Several, as a matter of fact. Why hide Karolyne?

“When’s Mommy coming?” Asked with a soft cuteness that squeezed his heart.

“I’m afraid your mother is—”

“In jail. I know. Because you think she did something bad.”

“She did.” She cost people their lives.

“She did it for me.”

Looking at the child, he had no doubt she spoke the truth as she knew it. “Do you know why the Rhomanii are after you?”

He’d found the words to peel her from his leg. Karolyne wandered away from him, running her fingers over the old books from Earth he collected, kept on a shelf. “Mama says it’s ’cause I’m special. They want her, too. They just can’t see ’cause of her necklace.”

“What necklace?”

“She calls it an…” Her nose scrunched. “Art. If. Act.”

“An artifact?” That hid her from drones? He’d never heard of such a thing. Then again, he’d never encountered knives that could slice those alien machines like soft cheese.

“How long have they been after you?” he asked.

“Since I was born.” Spoken matter-of-factly.

“And how old are you?”

“Almost five years old.” She beamed. “Mama says I’m tall for my age. One day I’ll be as tall as you.” Karolyne didn’t doubt for a moment he was her father.

Which reminded him. “Ivan, have the results come in yet?”

The computer linked them immediately, and Ivan replied, “Ah, Captain, I was just about to contact you. We do have results. We ran them three times to be sure.”

“And?”

“Meet us later for a congratulatory cigar.”

Punch. The news socked him in the gut. The genetics didn’t lie.

She is my daughter.

He looked at the girl.

Those eyes. Her mother’s. But everything else about her…

My flesh and blood.

He swept her into his arms and headed out of his room.

Rather than protest, his child giggled and looped her arms around his neck.

“Where are we going, Daddy?”

“To visit your mother.” Because, suddenly, he wasn’t tired anymore. And he needed answers.