She sucked in a breath. “No one met my shuttle.”
Footsteps.
“Her name’s Dr. Eos Rai.”
She recognized Niklas’ voice. Relief flooded through her. She turned her head enough to see Niklas and a younger man with tawny hair in the doorway.
The younger man smiled. “Twice in one day you’ve gotten beaten up by a girl, Dath.”
“Screw you, Z,” the man above her said.
She guessed the one with Niklas was the former Galactic Strike Wing fighter pilot, Zayn. Which left the hard, dangerous man on top of her as none other than Dathan Phoenix.
His weight shifted off her, and she sat up.
Now she knew who he was, she let herself look.
Tanned skin stretched over hard muscles. Actually, he was a bit pink, like he had bad solarburn. Not that it detracted from his blatant masculinity. A washboard stomach and a deep V of muscle that disappeared…downward. Where she wasn’t going to look.
One strong arm and shoulder were covered in black ink. Her heart stuttered as her gaze traced the wild, masculine design. She pressed her hands together, touching her own designs. His markings were nothing like the elegant mehndi markings the men and women on her world were born with.
Dathan grabbed a towel off a nearby chair and wrapped it around his hips, then he crossed his arms over his chest. Her gaze met eyes the color of the bright blue-green mountain lakes on her homeworld. Hair the color of deepest space fell around a slightly battered face, and a small white scar cut through his left eyebrow.
“How are you, Eos?”
She forced her gaze away from Dathan. “Niklas. It’s nice to see you.”
“So you know each other?” Dathan asked with a frown.
Niklas nodded. “We worked together at the Galactic Institute of Historical Preservation.”
Dathan’s face tightened. “We’re not real fond of Institute snobs around here.”
She arched a brow. “I’m on a leave of absence.” A forced one, but they didn’t need to know that.
Dathan extended a hand, his intense eyes burning through her. “Well, regardless of your profession, I’m sorry about the gun in your face. Like I said, it’s been a rough day.”
She put her hand in his, and ignored the tingle where their palms met. “Spent in the sun?”
He rubbed a hand over his stubble-covered cheek, and she thought the color in his face deepened. “Something like that.”
“This is the last place I’d expected to see you, Eos,” Niklas said.
She lifted her chin, forcing her mind off the distracting treasure hunter beside her. “I need your help. I want to hire you.” She let her gaze move over them. “All of you.”
The brothers traded a quick glance. She marveled at the fact that with such a quick look, they all seemed to understand each other. Some sort of sibling shorthand.
“Let me get dressed.” Dathan strode to an adjoining room. “Why don’t you guys take the doctor to the living area?”
The living area was a section of the warehouse adjacent to the bedrooms. Lived-in furniture was clustered around a bank of large screens. A tiny kitchen was tucked against one wall.
Zayn called out a command and the screens flickered to life—showcasing the latest sporting craze, VelocityBall. Eos was not a fan of the new version of football with a powered ball. Niklas sat in a leather armchair, and she watched him extend a superthin palm-sized Sync communicator until it was tablet size. He flicked at information on the clear touchscreen.
The youngest Phoenix brother prowled to a nearby cold unit and plucked out a drink. He glanced her way. “Want one?”
Eos shook her head. “No, thank you.” She wandered to a window. Through the glass, she saw the shimmer of the huma-dome. “Pretty interesting setup you have here.”
“We do what we can,” Niklas said.
