“I’m not anywhere near your mental capabilities, but I’m usually not this dense. Fill me in?”
She smiled, glad to see a little of the T’arq she knew and… no, don’t go there. A little of the T’arq she knew. “Would the me of yesterday have been here like this?” She gestured at her casual pose.
“No.” T’arq frowned and shook his head.
“And why is that?”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Krystal. I’m still to blame. Zac specifically told me to keep you safe.”
Krystal’s smile fell, and she dropped the casual pose, sitting stiffly on the seat. “I knew it,” she said under her breath, sliding from the seat. “You’re just the same as everyone else. Why can’t you let me make my own decisions? I’m a grown adult!” She pointed a finger at him. “Or was it a game? I know you were bored. Hours and hours of flying in straight lines so the nerd can collect her data. Fun times, right? What’s a little game to amuse yourself when you’re used to much more… sophisticated entertainment?”
T’arq slid from his seat to stand next to her. “What are you talking about?”
“What do you really do, T’arq?”
He shot her a puzzled look. “What? I’m a pilot.”
“Sure. And pilots can afford trips to Irith’s Moons.”
He held out a hand, palm up. “I broke down and needed somewhere to stop.”
She wished he hadn’t said that. The thing is, Krystal had access to all the engineering logs and, being a stickler for safety, had checked all the maintenance logs on the stealth ship before she had set foot near it. There had been no repairs done on Irith’s Moons. When T’arq had returned, the ship had been checked over thoroughly. Krystal had read the reports herself. There had been no breakdown.
He was lying. And there was nothing she hated more than lies.
“You’re lying.” She leveled a gaze at him. “Who are you, really?” Her stomach flopped as she waited for his answer. A sense of heavy expectation hung between them, as if his next words were the most important he had ever said. As if they would decide something monumental.
He swallowed, his throat bobbing before he spoke. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
Krystal sniffed in disgust and turned on her heel, ready to leave the room, not able to look at him for one second longer.
“Krystal—” T’arq began, but his comm buzzed, Oren calling him to the cockpit. “Can we talk later?” he asked, his eyes pleading with her.
“We have nothing more to say to each other,” She replied, turning away to dump her coffee in what she hoped was a sink, unable to stomach the bitter brew.
He sighed and left without argument, which stung more than it should.
Alone, she slid back onto the bench and lay her head on the table on her pillowed arms. She bit back a sob. How had she become so invested in him in such a short amount of time? Laila had warned her about him, and she hadn’t listened. She had been so stupid and should have known better. She had seen the people he favored, women and men alike. They all fit the same mold—tall, sensual in a way Krystal could never hope to be, and sophisticated. The exact opposite of short, clumsy and girl next door Krystal.
Ugh.
She banged her head on the table.
“That good, huh?”
She lifted her head to see Amelia in the doorway. She dropped her head back into her hands.
“We’re about to dock with the Zataras.”
The two women made their way to the cockpit, where Oren and T’arq sat in front of the controls, guiding the ship toward the gaping maw of the shuttle bay. They sat in two jump seats that folded down in the cramped space behind the main seats and buckled in. Not that there was any need. Krystal watched as T’arq skillfully guided the shuttle in to land, the looming expanse of the Zataras reassuringly familiar as it enveloped them. The shuttle hovered above the indicated bay before rotating gently to set down, landing feet extended.
The entire process had taken less than a minute.
Krystal’s fingers bit into the edge of the seat and she forced them to flex as she breathed out a hard breath.
“Krystal?” T’arq’s voice was concerned as he turned in his seat to look at her. The other two had already unbuckled and had left the cockpit.
“I’m fine.” She fiddled with the clasp, shaking fingers unable to hit the latch. “Fuck!”
