“You keep that, but don’t shoot me.”
“Okay.”
He grabbed her hand, and they jogged down the corridor. She tsked when they stepped over the dead.
“I really wish you wouldn’t kill all these people.”
He shot her a look, hoping to keep her quiet. She frowned at him and said, “Why don’t you stun them all?”
Fed up, he grabbed her by the shoulders and met her at eye level. “Because if I let them live, they’ll be the ones to kill me in battle tomorrow. Understand?” He used the same firm teaching voice he used with his tyros.
When she shook her head, he knew he failed. He sighed. “Just keep quiet.”
She nodded.
They kept going, her hand in his until they reached the launch bay. Mace set Nia with her back against the bulkhead near the door.
“Watch in both directions. Shoot anyone you see. We have no friends here.”
He didn’t wait for her response but sprinted inside. The internal security of a Guardian was laughable. They were arrogant, assumed their warship wouldn’t be breached. No security protocols on the doors except for a PALM swipe, and he’d confiscated one off the first defender he’d killed in the brig.
The launch bay contained one security detail and a handful of maintenance workers. Mace made short work of the defenders and incapacitated the rest. No need to keep quiet now. They were almost out.
Once he was sure the bay was cleared of threats, he jogged to retrieve Nia. She stood staring down the corridor, her face beyond pale.
“I shot a doctor,” she said, her words faint.
A crumpled mass of black lay slumped at the end of the corridor. He took the gun from her. “And they’ll be fine when they wake. Let’s go.”
“Where are we?” she asked as they hurried toward a Condor.
“This is where they launch their fighters.”
“Truly? I should probably learn more about ships. I never found it a deficiency in my education until I met you. I had no idea there were—”
She stopped talking when he shot her another look. They stopped at the bottom of the Condor, its ladder already extended.
“Up you go.” He ripped the stolen PALM off his hand and dropped it on the deck. He had no use for it now.
Nia climbed ahead of him, then stopped abruptly at the top. “It’s a one-seater. We’re going to have to find another one.” She almost sat on his face in her haste.
“They’re all one-seaters. Get in,” he said, giving her bottom a push.
She yelped, then climbed over the edge, bracing her feet against the edges of the seat.
“Stay like that until I can slide in with you.” Mace climbed over the edge, stowing his guns behind the seat. He pressed his body against hers, his arm across her middle. They slid in the seat together, her floral scent wrapping around him. He almost groaned aloud.
Ignoring his body’s response to her proximity, he read the control panel over her head and powered up the fighter. The canopy closed above them, and he initiated the shielding and viewer.
“This isn’t going to work,” Nia said quietly, resting her hands on the tops of his thighs.
“Why?” Mace asked, distracted as he berated himself for not grabbing helmet clips from one of the dead to interface with Condor’s systems.
“I’m getting turned on sitting like this,” she replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
His arms gave her an involuntary squeeze. Another body part of his body sprang to attention at her words. “One thing at time,” he said, voice hoarse.
The entrance to the bay overflowed with defenders, their weapons fire bouncing off the Condor’s shielding. Mace put them in a hover, setting it in line with one of the launch tubes. The shots from the defenders rocked the ship.
