I turned to face her and she was right there.Clad in clean but worn coveralls.She smelled like the ship’s soap and that indefinable, almost lack of scent that the refresher left on clothes.“Who’s in the videos?”
She quickly took a step back.“My sister.”
There was that emotion again.
“Why were you watching videos of her?”I watched her closely.
She closed her eyes, hiding a brief flash of pain.“She sent them to me.”
“Is she—” I paused.There was no delicate way to say this.“Is she dead?”
Her fists clenched and she whirled away from me.“I don’t know!”Her shoulders radiated tension.
“Does this have something to do with why you stole my ship?”I kept my voice gentle.
“Borrowed.”
I rolled my eyes but let her get away with it this time.“Is this why you borrowed my ship?”
“No.Maybe.I don’t know.Not originally.”
“What does that mean?”When she didn’t answer, I gently turned her to face me.
Her eyes were wide and filled with pain.
“What does that mean?”I repeated.
“It means she’s missing and I think that...”she gestured toward the screen.“That has something to do with the men who broke into my apartment.”Whatever restraint had been holding her back broke.She threw her arms around me and pressed her face to my chest.
Ok-ay.
I slowly, carefully wrapped my arms around her.
Lacy cried quietly but fiercely.She held herself stiffly, shoulders tense, her arms squeezed tight around my waist.We were pressed so closely together that her shudders reverberated through me.
I rubbed her back in soothing circles.What else was I supposed to do while she soaked my shirt with her tears?
The top of her head came up right beneath my chin, the perfect height to tuck her against me.“I’m sure your sister is fine,” I murmured into her hair.They were the most comforting words I could think of.
Lacy Dupree was a mystery.A conundrum.A problem.One wrapped in attractive packaging no matter whether it took the form of ripped coveralls or an ethereal bedsheet.
The woman was a fucking puzzle and I didn’t know how the pieces all fit.
Hell, I wasn’t even sure Ihadall the pieces.
Her crying slowed and her grip on my waist lessened.When she pulled away, her movements were stiff.Her hands dragged along my sides, her left passing close—too close—to my weapon.
I sensed the moment her intentions changed.When her hand brushed the blaster, her breath caught and her head tilted to the side.And I knew—I knew—that she was going to try for my weapon.
In one smooth move, I pressed my hand against the blaster, securing it to my side and shifted my right leg back.The blaster now out of her reach, she froze against me, then stepped back.
“I’m sorry.That was...I mean, I didn’t...”
Was she going to say she was just borrowing it?
I would have railed at her for attempting to steal my weapon, but one look at the tear tracks on her cheeks made me temper my tone.Sure, maybe she’d faked it all and I was a sucker.But maybe she hadn’t.
“What did you think you were going to do?”I asked gently.“I’m a highly trained soldier with several inches in height on you and probably a hundred pounds.Did you really think you could win against me?”
