Origin (17 page)

“I won’t hesitate to shoot anyone else who lays a hand on the captain,” I said, barely holding back a smile at the fierce tone I’d managed to pull out of my ass. I liked the sound of Anders’s term for backside better.

Looking at what was left of Lashin’s body, I realized I didn’t even have a regret, not one, for shooting him. He’d been scum of the galaxies.

Guess the other scum in the room believed me because everyone slowly moved away from Clay. My heart let up a little when I saw he was still standing, but he leaned heavily on the bar and held one hand to his ribs. His cheek was already swelling and there were more smears of blood on his face, neck and hands as well as all over his clothes.

“Anders?” I said.

“Yes, dear?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Would you please go get our man so we can go back to our room?” I wanted to go back to the ship and leave the planet altogether, but we still had to get Crichton from one of the mining camps. Staring at what remained of Para Lashin, I frowned, then looked around for the third handler I’d seen crouching in a corner. I slowly turned the gun his way.

“Wait,” he cried out. “I never did anything to you.” He scrambled to his feet, held up his hands.

“What happened to the other one? The one Lashin called Spaulding?”

He frowned and I had to keep myself from pulling the trigger because while he hadn’t touched me, he had others. But I didn’t want to see anyone else torched. I hated Lashin with everything in me, but I felt queasy over the way this gun fried people.

I wouldn’t be using that setting again.

But he didn’t know that.

“Spaulding?” I repeated. “Where is he?”

“You going to shoot me if you don’t like the answer?”

“Maybe.”

Anders returned to my side. Clay’s arm was tight around Anders’s neck, so his feet weren’t entirely on the floor anyway.

I sighed, getting annoyed enough to change the setting on the gun.

“Wait!” the handler cried out again. “Okay, okay. He’s dead. Spaulding tricked Lashin and took that other Gwinarian man off the ship. He came back to get you, but Lashin figured out what he’d done and killed him.”

My heart ached at the answer. I jumped when Anders’s pocket vidscreen went off. He pulled it out as Juniper and Namito joined us. The Replicant was back in his normal dark skin.

“Sweetheart, we have to go,” Anders said. “In fact, we have to go back to the ship.”

“What about—” I broke off, not sure what I should be sharing.

“Got him. Guess the enforcers here wanted him off the planet. Speero has him locked into a cell.”

“We have cells?” I handed him his gun.

Clay’s slow grin on his bloody, tired face made me realize what I’d said. “I heard you say ‘our’ man too,” he said, exhaustion giving him that gravelly tone I’d only heard him use in bed.

I shivered and he chuckled.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

Juniper and Namito watched the room as Anders looked outside. “Guess the folks here are used to bar fights. Not a curious soul about.” Anders tucked his gun inside his jacket and reached back for me.

I sighed and gave him my hand. “I just incinerated a man and you’re still going all protective on me.”

“Always,” was all he said as he hefted Clay tighter and half carried him down the stone pathway.

Namito and Juniper went after our bags for us as we headed toward the ship. Clay slept against Anders during the two hour ride, then they had a short, fierce argument when Clay insisted on calling Kithra before visiting their med scanner.

The captain slumped in front of a vidscreen on the bridge and hooked into Kithra’s main communications. He didn’t bother to pretend he was okay, not that he could have anyway. His blood-caked form showed complete exhaustion in his lowered shoulders and pale face.

A woman with long dark hair in a ponytail came on screen. “Captain Asshole!”

“Just how many people call him that?” I whispered to Anders.

“A lot.” He smiled and ran his hand over the captain’s hair.

The woman leaned closer, frowned. “You look like shit, but I see you’re letting the big guy touch you. Finally wised up, eh?”

Clay didn’t respond to the question and this worried me more than how bad he looked.

“Lia and Bucho brought Crichton on board,” he said tiredly. “We’re taking him home. You’ll have to prep your med unit.”

“Tell me you shot him,” she said, her lips thin with anger. “A lot.”

“No. Didn’t have to. The authorities on Burga One just handed him over. He has some kind of weird pneumonia.”

She frowned, leaned close to the screen. “We can treat all pneumonia these days. Why didn’t they give him an injection?”

“He refused it.”

“Really.” She leaned back. “Interesting. Got vid?”

He nodded and leaned over to reach the switch that would open the camera in Crichton’s room. It wasn’t really a cell, but a kind of supply room with nothing in it other than cabinets. They hadn’t even given him a pallet of some sort.

Clay swayed and I rushed forward to help him, ending up mostly in his lap to reach the switch. Clay’s tired smile was in complete opposition to the strong grip he got onto my hip to keep me there. He slid his palm over my waist, wrapped his arm around me.

The woman seemed more interested in me than in the video we streamed to her. I glanced at it to find that scary shell of a man mostly covered by a blanket on the floor. Stringy blond hair in a tangled mess spilled around his head. I looked away. It was hard to hate someone who looked that pathetic, even knowing everyone believed him responsible for blowing up Kithra. I looked back at the woman.

“The name’s Lux,” she said.

“I’m Siri.” I remembered hearing about her. Her stare unnerved me—it was so pointed and probing.

She smiled, suddenly looking a lot friendlier. “Vala told us about you. We’re looking forward to meeting you. Kithra has come a long way in the last couple of years. You’ll be so happy to see what we’ve been doing.” She looked at someone behind her and smiled.

Another Gwinarian came on the screen and I gasped because he reminded me so much of home. He kissed her temple and leaned over her shoulder to look at me. “We look forward to your arrival, Siri.”

I could only stare at him. Partly because he was really nice to look at.

Clay’s tired sigh behind me made me turn to him. “There are more like him on your planet, but I’m pretty sure Lux doesn’t want to share this one.”

“Yeah, I’ve embraced the Gwinarian lifestyle, but your captain is right. We’re happy just the way we are. This is Egan, by the way. He will be a good friend.” She winked.

I smiled, sudden excitement chasing away the horror of what I’d just done to a man. Seeing Vala and Bastian had been a wonderful thing, but this man made me able to fully realize that I would be going home. Really going home.

Clay’s hands tightened on me and I turned to him, only to frown at the brief look of pain that crossed his face. “We have to go,” I said to Lux. “Clay needs medical attention. Do you know how to contact Bastian?”

Lux nodded.

“Will you tell him that I killed Para Lashin?”

Lux covered her mouth, but nodded.

“Thank you.” I stood up and let Anders pull the captain from the seat. Clay let him maneuver him without fuss. Worried, I waved goodbye to Egan and Lux and asked Lia to disconnect for us. I followed as Anders half carried Clay to the med scanner. His ribs weren’t as bad as they looked—nothing cracked, just bruised. Clay gave Anders a look that said he’d told him so but agreed to a pain killer injection. He tried to walk on his own back to his cabin, but Anders ignored him and helped.
 

“He’ll perk up when that injection really kicks in,” Anders assured me.

When we walked Clay into his washroom,
 
my back hit the wall. I let myself slide to the floor as everything that had happened in the last hours settled into my chest.

Anders shot me a concerned glance and I waved him off. “Just help him.”

The captain leaned against the wall too, his black eyelashes stark on his too-pale cheeks. Blood streaked his chin, was flaking on his neck. He shifted, winced, and a clump of mud fell to the floor. He’d fallen once on the way back and unfortunately, it had been in a puddle.

Exhaustion looked unnatural on Clay—like the intense vitality he usually wielded had been painted with a layer of gray.

Shaking his head, Anders pushed the weapons jacket off him, letting it fall to the floor. Then he unfastened the clasps on Clay’s shirt, frowning when he had to peel it from the man. The material had become stiff and stuck to his skin as the mud dried. The sleeve caught on his fist and Anders stopped to gently uncurl Clay’s fingers so the shirt could hit the tile.

When Anders knelt to take off Clay’s boots, I caught a slit of crystal blue as the captain’s eyes opened slightly. He watched quietly as Anders slid his fingers inside the waistband of Clay’s pants to open the fasteners. He halted briefly, gaze locked with Clay’s as he waited for the okay to continue. All Clay did was give him a slight smile, close his eyes and lean his head back onto the wall. He did nearly lose his balance when he lifted a leg to help Anders take off his pants, but a big hand pushed against his abdomen, held him to the wall.

Anders straightened and wrapped one arm around Clay’s waist to tug him close. He reached into the shower cubicle to place the palm of his other hand on the preference panel. “One hundred five degrees.”

“Maybe you should start it cooler until he acclimates to the room,” I said, my weariness slurring my words a little. “It’s cold in here.”

“It won’t be for long.” He aimed a soft smile in my direction. “Trust me, our captain likes the water scalding. This is as low as I dared go.”

I was surprised when Clay didn’t speak up even when Anders maneuvered him into the cubicle. Multiple spigots like the ones in the rent room we hadn’t been able to use aimed water at the captain, who did nothing but sway in place. When he started to fall, Anders quickly stepped in next to him. He held one hand wrapped around Clay’s biceps as he tried to unfasten his own clothes one-handed.

Pulling on all my energy reserves, I stood and walked over to help Anders get out of his clothes. He smiled his thanks. “I’d ask you to join, but it looks like I’d be holding you up too.”

“I need to sit a little longer. I’ll join in a moment.”

One blond eyebrow lifted, obvious interest filling his expression as he raked his gaze over me. “You’re going to get into the shower? With us? Clothes or not?”

I just smirked at him and shook my head before pushing his pants down so he could step out of them. “I’m glad you took your boots off out there.”

“Couldn’t see them under that mud.”

I looked down at my own formerly tan borrowed boots and grimaced. We’d both jumped into the deep puddle after Clay. Now, I backed up, spotted a folding wall seat and pushed the button to lower it. I collapsed onto the seat and then couldn’t stop the grin that took over my mouth. “Now that is the nicest view I’ve had all day.”

Anders had gently pushed the captain against one wall until he seemed able to stand on his own. Clay’s eyes were now open and locked on to Anders’s face as the taller man held his hand under the dispenser for soap. The captain had the good kind that lathered up fast and before long, Anders had covered Clay’s torso in white suds. He slowly ran his hands over Clay’s shoulders and turned him slightly so he could reach his back. He kept his touch impersonal, didn’t linger.

But he wasn’t as successful with his gaze. Those green eyes devoured the captain’s body with a long-burning hunger I could feel across the room. I didn’t blame him. Clay’s body didn’t have an ounce of superfluous flesh. Taut muscles wrapped his slim form, silky-looking hair spattered the surprisingly ripped chest. Lean, ropy muscles lined his thighs and calves, both of which were lightly covered in dark hair too. His tattoos drew the eyes. And the fingers.

Clay’s hair was plastered to his face. His sharp blue eyes stayed glued on Anders as the bigger man gently rubbed soap on his cheeks, jaw and neck.

I’d never seen the captain look so vulnerable, never imagined I’d see him let Anders attend to him like this…see him stare up at his friend with something that looked very much like love mixed with a desperate need for comfort. Someone needed a hug.

Anders slicked back Clay’s hair, got more soap and began to gently scrub the captain’s scalp. Clay still didn’t take his eyes off Anders’s face, not even when soap threatened to sting them. I held my breath, touched by what neither man was saying out loud. Anders rinsed his hair, making sure to tilt his head back so the soap didn’t get into his eyes. The whole time, he ran his fingers through the captain’s hair and stared back into his eyes.

Clay cracked a smile, starting to look more alert. He shook his head and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Anders’s chest. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I have lots of ideas,” Anders murmured against the top of his head.

His gaze met mine and the hope shining there tore into me. Claybourne’s armor had cracked all the way through. I put my palm on my stomach, tried to settle the crazy churning, then it was like something inside me clicked. Anders looked at me with hope too. Before I could lose my nerve, I pulled off the boots, stood up and pulled the thick shirt over my head. I’d set the tranque gun down when we’d come into the room, surprised to find all three of our bags on the bed in this room instead of spread into our own rooms.