Gark turned to Vox and Jarden, who were turned in their seats facing him. “As soon as you feel those engines starting, get us out of here.”
He turned to A’Kar. “Is there anything wrong with the weapons?”
A’Kar frowned. “No, there’s nothing?—”
“Then this time,” Gark growled, cutting him off and leaning menacingly toward him, “use the damned things if we’re being fired upon.”
A’Kar swallowed and flushed, his cheeks turning a darker bronze as he looked away without replying. Gark narrowed his eyes at the young Taurean’s back. He was beginning to suspect that A’Kar was more than just a little trigger-happy. He’d need to talk to Vox about him. Pushing the thought aside to deal withlater—adding A’Kar’s insubordination and laziness to a long list of tasks that fell to the captain of a contracted ship—he unmuted the still cursing Taurean on the viewscreen.
“This has been delightful, but I feel we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
The Taurean stopped speaking and frowned. “Give us the package, and then you can go.”
Gark paused, watching as Vox and Jarden readied their stations, hands on the controls. When the main power flicked back on, Gark smiled.
“I think not.” He ended the call.
“Get us out of here!”
The satisfaction of seeing the other ship left behind as they shot toward Earth’s moon made Gark’s lips twitch before he forced himself to focus. They weren’t out of the sands yet. It would be days before they could hand over the package he’d safely stowed in the safe in the tiny space that served as his office off the bridge.
Vox and Jarden were all business, the two working as a well-oiled machine, guiding The Lady toward Taurean space. It wasn’t a short trip, but the ship had a few tricks up her sleeve, including an enhanced FTL drive and some other tweaks Arik had recently completed.
As seconds turned to minutes and they weren’t pursued, Gark drummed his fingers on the arm of the captain’s chair. Why weren’t they following? Unless they had been bluffing, which made no sense. Or… Gark sat up straighter, eyes darting to A’Kar sitting with his back to Gark at the security station.
Why hadn’t A’Kar fired when they’d been attacked? It was, quite literally, his one job in a situation like that. And Lady knew he was trigger-happy more than most. Gark’s lips twisted.
Was his security officer a security risk?
He snorted at the irony.
When he was sure they weren’t being followed, Gark stood from his seat, stretching his arms overhead to ease the kinks in his back. It had been a long day, and he wanted nothing more than to eat something hot, shower, and sleep—in that order.
Well, that was a lie. He wanted nothing more than to be in the presence of his mate.
For once, he took advantage of having a second-in-command, ordering Vox to sort the crew rotations. He was almost at the door to the bridge when he pulled up short. Going back to his cabin was not an option. No matter how much he wanted to be in her presence, he had work to do.
He turned with a sigh, heading toward his office instead. No time like the present to call his contact and confirm the rendezvous, he supposed. Normally, he would have done it already, but being shot at by a bunch of pirates tends to shift one’s routine a little.
He swiped his wrist over the door, watching it slide open with a quiet chime. He was about to step through, leaving Vox in charge on the bridge, when A’Kar called his name.
Gark schooled his expression into neutrality before turning. “Yes?”
“Your…guest is loose.” The security officer pointed at a video feed on one of the corridors near engineering.
Gark frowned, striding the few short steps to the security station, the call to the buyer forgotten. The woman was limping down the corridor, swiping her wrist over every door panel and muttering to herself.
Gark shook his head. She was going to be the death of him.
He watched as a door opened for her, and she stepped through and into?—
“Why the fuck is there a woman in my engine room?” The comm channel flared to life with Arik’s angry voice.
Gark closed his eyes. She really would be the death of him.
She really was a tiny thing, even if she did wriggle a lot. Gark held one arm around her middle, holding his breath and clutching her to his chest like an errant child. She kicked her legs and pushed down at his arm as if her puny muscles could budge him. He snorted, amused at her antics.
Unfortunately, that meant he drew a breath, and her scent punched him in the sternum. He forced himself to relax and breathe out, fighting against his body’s reaction.
