Silver Bound (15 page)

A man like Kalon wouldn’t give up his possessions, and he’d certainly consider a wife to be his possession. Kalon had made an error, or two. Silver-tipping took her out of the man’s legal purview, not that a Geanus considered the law as any hindrance.
Geanus Station
held to its own laws. What the hell had Mayor Quinn been thinking when he’d given his daughter to such a man? Guy remembered when the treaty had been signed. Quinn had worked to keep Terraloft from spreading their lawlessness from
Zuthuru
down to Grassland. He’d arranged his daughter’s marriage in the process. Had the treaty been worth it? Probably for the citizens of Rangetown, but not for Jewel.

Kalon’s second mistake was not pursuing and claiming Jewel immediately because now Guy had her, he’d never allow her back into that den of iniquity. Unless…

She couldn’t want to be claimed by her ex-husband. Bound to Kalon. Guy shuddered, but she still hadn’t answered. Tense, on edge for her answer, he reiterated, “Would you?”

Jewel spoke, nearly too low to understand. “No. I never wanted him. I always wanted you. Always.”

He lost track of when he’d thrown away the honorable course of action. When those words left her lips, all he wanted to do was make love to her. Spend the next two hours showing her how much he’d wanted to be her husband. Jewel licked her lips and her hand reached up to trace the bend of her neck, along the scar no longer there.

His cock stiffened, and even though he couldn’t hide it beneath the clinging clothes, he wouldn’t do so. Even without the collar, she seemed to read him like a U-panel. With the collar, there was no doubt. He’d make one last attempt at honorability, though she had to see his selfish nature by now.

“I’m sorry. Soon you won’t have to deal with my horny self.”

“Love me, Guy.”

“I do.”

She took his hand, flipped it over and licked his wrist on his pulse point, below the bracelet.

He stood between her legs, tilted her head for his kiss and knelt to undress her slowly, tenderly, placing burning kisses where his hungry mouth could reach. And he loved her.

***

Entry into Taphgan was uneventful. Buckled into the seat of the yacht, Guy held Jewel’s hand and vowed to behave like a sheriff as soon as the craft evened out into Taphgan airspace. As a Grassland lawman, he had limited jurisdiction on this sister planet and a full responsibility.

Sheriff Guy Trident could make arrests, could detain, but he could not call a proxy judgment and give sentencing on the spot. He’d have to wait for a mounty to take over after an arrest. He’d gotten a ping from Brice. He’d join this excursion.

Not that he planned on needing it, but he wore his star. And his boots. Finally.

Did he deserve to wear the star? Truth of the matter was that he was breaking the law taking Jewel on planet. Slavery was illegal. Repercussions were swift and automatic—freedom for the slave and steep fines for the owner. Silver-tipping carried an even stiffer penalty and mandatory deportation of the slave.

He glanced at Jewel, made sure her lipstick, scarf and gloves were in place, and gave her velvet-encased hand a squeeze.

Lady Wells hadn’t changed or covered the evidence of her status though the doctor had insisted she do so. Thomas na’ Wells hadn’t said a word or risen from his sulk throughout the smooth atmospheric entry process. Guy didn’t know what had happened in the time he’d been alone with Jewel, but the three didn’t seem any happier with each other.

“Lady Wells. I am a sheriff on Grassland and have partial jurisdiction on Taphgan. When we land, I’ll be donning my star. I think it would be best if you covered your silver-tipping.”

“Why, Sheriff? Are you going to arrest me?” She smiled sadly at him, though her question was flippant.

“She’ll do as she’s told.” Thomas grumbled for the first time but didn’t look up from the decanter of whiskey he’d been nursing.

Guy’s mouth watered, wanting a taste, but now wasn’t the time to give in to the penchant to dull his pain, and his stomach soured at the evidence of the convoluted triangle of the Wells family.

With a telltale flick of his wrist, Thomas made his wishes known. Lady Wells gasped with a grimace.

Without a word, the doctor pulled a scarf from his pocket, and the lady wrapped it around her neck with a scowl. By the time they landed with a quiet thump and the lights flickered off then on, both women had covered the signs of slavery. The small ship nosed into a small outdoor bay and a ladder was brought to the door instead of an entry tunnel attachment. The unseen pilot stayed aboard while the party of five descended to the ground.

Taphgan had much in common with Grassland. Both planets stayed within a certain technological age by governmental edict. The colonists of the sister planets wanted assurance of peace from the ravages of technology and protection for the environment. The air cleaners and filters worked non-stop to remove the exhaust and damaging heat and chemicals from the landing. Many modern conveniences still abounded, once they’d proven a benign presence on the living systems of the world. Thus, the myriad of technology mixed with a homesteading mentality made for incongruous sights like the set of six horses hitched to the waiting post on the tarmac outside the landing station where the space-faring yacht moored.

He threaded his fingers through Jewel’s with his free hand. “I wish we had your riding gear.”

“Not to worry,” Dr. Wells said from behind them. “I ordered sidesaddles for the women.”

Jewel snorted. “I haven’t ridden sidesaddle since I was a little girl.”

Guy put a hand to the small of her back. After touching her all he wanted for the past day, being near her, smelling her honeysuckle scent, he hadn’t shut off his emotional and physical responses. But today wasn’t a good day for his bracelet to send signals.

“Here.” He gave his faux leather jacket to Jewel. It’d cover more of that glowing flesh of hers where it wasn’t concealed by her wrap. Nobody else would look at her the way he did, and nobody would be getting ideas, including himself. If he viewed all that creamy flesh, he couldn’t trust himself any more than a scruffy stray dog.

He readjusted his gun belt and silver star.

Time to be the law again, even if he broke it with the bracelet he fiddled with on his wrist. What the hell, he’d always known he couldn’t be sheriff forever.

A dark-haired man in a crisp red uniform reined his mount next to theirs and quirked a smile.

Brice had shown up, still the same after all these years but for a few additional wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Maybe a few extra lines since he’d last been on Taphgan. He’d fill in his old friend on the way. No time for the reunion between Brice and Jewel. He pulled her behind him and out to the horses.

“Let’s go.”

Sweat dripping down his whisker-rough chin, lips dry from the arid, sandy air after twenty minutes in the saddle, Guy squinted against the harsh light. He was at ease for the first time in over a week—though his boots rested in the stirrups, his feet were grounded.

The horses clopped across the hard-packed ground while the sun blazed orange in the sky. The large blue moon hung behind their backs, but its shadow wouldn’t darken their path for a few hours. Plenty of time to get to their destination, according to Dr. Wells.

After a perfunctory hello between Brice and Jewel, he’d updated his friend, at ease as though they’d only yesterday run the cattle together and drunk whiskey by the campfire. Brice already knew most of it, between being in contact with Quinn and doing his own investigation. He assured Jewel—and Guy—that he’d verified Jared’s arrival and safety on his father’s station. Brice also understood that Jewel’s life would always hang in the balance simply because she could never be far from Guy. Without the Broker, she was tied to him on an invisible leash.

For the past several minutes, they’d ridden in companionable silence, putting off the time to swap their usual arrest stories for a better day. If that better day ever came.

Jewel adjusted herself in the sidesaddle again. Though she’d always ridden as well as he, he doubted she’d seen a horse, much less ridden one, in more than five years. Before he could fall into the fantasy of massaging her aching backside when she dismounted, he cut the direction of his thoughts. With a quick intake of breath and a heating of her cheeks, Jewel’s reaction told him he was a little late on squelching the desire. His hands slid along the reins and he gripped the pommel. Later. He had to believe there’d be a later.

He was delusional. The heat must be getting to him ’cause his gut told him there’d be nothing but trouble later.

They passed through a small village whose residents all had the dark skin of gypsy descendents. The coloring and height of this strain of humanity bred true. A quick glance at Thomas na’ Wells affirmed his earlier suspicions. Thomas was the son of a gypsy from Taphgan.

While Grassland had been terraformed into a planet rife with pastures, a steady, temperate climate and vast oceans and mountain ranges to complete it, Taphgan had long stretches of desert wasteland. The wealthiest residents lived in the mountains and valleys, where cooler air and lush plant life made for a virtual paradise. Farms bordered the mountains, taking advantage of not only the streams but the likelihood of semi-frequent rains. The bulk of Taphgan peoples were nomads who bartered in the lands between mountains and kept the trade alive between the ranges.

A strange mixture of technological cottage industries abounded in the small desert cities. The dry climate worked to advantage for some of the small tech chip-work. This brought in the foreigners and the black market, something most gypsies supported as a way of life. Only the law seemed to view the illegal market as a bad thing.

The largest city on the planet still seemed quaint compared to Rangetown, itself only a small hamlet in the populace of Grassland. They headed to the city after clearing the small village of bright tents and sunbaked clay houses.

In the distance, amid the waves of heat rising from the tanned earth, larger buildings seemed to soar to the sky. In reality, a collection of about a dozen buildings, of five stories or so, clustered in the main square.

Rayford. The one city on the planet, near the one spaceport for off-worlders, close to a range of mountains that housed the wealthiest families of Taphgan but far enough away to keep the riffraff from the pristine forests and wildlife of the mountain foothills.

One of those tall edifices housed the Taphgan world government. A few corporations resided in others. Condos for the wealthy Terralofts who had business here surrounded the outskirts of town, where a simulated river gave a peacefulness to the oasis.

In his line of work, he’d been here before, mostly returning gypsies who’d gotten into trouble with an off-worlder and ended up in Rangetown. Gypsies, for all their small-world appeal, were nomadic and managed to traverse the galaxy and back. He never minded the trip, usually taking a few hours to share a whiskey with Brice before returning.

“My man lives on this side of Rayford.” Dr. Wells broke the silence that would have reigned supreme if not for the trudging of their horses and the clink of the saddles.

Guy nudged his horse around Jewel’s. Closer to the doctor, he stayed within reaching distance of Jewel. No matter what went down here, she was his sole priority and concern.

“Your man?” Brice spoke up, his voice so changed from the unsure youth Guy had known, now full of deep authority.

The doctor dropped back to speak with Brice. “Yes, I hired a nanobot wizard to break the silver programming. He’s made real progress and sent word last week he was ready for a field trial. As you’d expect, a field trial would be difficult, if not impossible.”

“Huh.” Sarcasm dripped from Guy’s interjection. “No, I don’t know a Terraloft willing to give up his pleasures to see if his money could be made null and void, much less lose control over his slave.”

“And you don’t count yourself in that assessment?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t intend to tell the doctor the circumstances that had brought them together, and the man hadn’t asked. The doctor hadn’t elucidated his own circumstances either. Perhaps Wells didn’t want to explain to a lawman how his wife had become slave to his brother. Though, of all people, Guy understood how life twisted like a snake in hand. Slippery and determined to go its own path. And at times sneaky and full of venom.

At the edge of town, they stopped at a hitching post where Brice knew and trusted the stable master. After the appropriate exchange of cred, they left their horses behind and walked the busy streets. The bustle of hawkers, shoppers and tourists made him claustrophobic despite the gaily dressed, lighthearted nature of most they encountered.

Advanced technology wasn’t visible here. As if man had never invented the internal combustible engine, this town could’ve jumped off the pages of a history vid-lesson. Besides Brice, who carried two pistollas, each on leg holsters on the outside of his desert uniform pants, Guy carried the only visible weapon, allowed by his silver star. There was no doubt, though, that plenty of six-shots were tucked under the plethora of leather vests and laser knives stashed in the ever-present dusty snakeskin boots.

His hand at the small of her back, he stayed at Jewel’s side and, with her status disguised, she got no more than the usual once-overs from randy cowboys.

They stopped at a large condo in the wealthy section of town. The white stucco covered in sprawling vines appeared well maintained. The cool, shaded entry area, adorned with a stone archway, echoed beneath his boots. The relief was immediate. Without the direct sun, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. During the temporary blindness, he gripped his holstered six-shot and thumbed off the safety.

“You won’t need that in this neighborhood,” Brice muttered from behind him.

“Tazio.” Dr. Wells spoke into the low-tech intercom beside the door. Through a glass pane, the living area remained empty of life. Wells repeated the call several times and received no answer.

“Where is your Tazio?” The hair on the back of Guy’s neck tingled. They shouldn’t stand here, exposed. Eyes adjusted to the dimness, he studied his companions. Jewel glanced about, taking in her surroundings with a serious expression. Lady Wells stood next to Thomas, not touching, but not at a distance he’d expect for in-laws. Neither showed outward concern, but Lady Wells had a tight grip on herself as she crossed her arms. Legs spread in an easy stance, Brice showed no concern, though his hands hovered over his holsters.

“This is my house. We can go in.” Dr. Wells removed an old-fashioned card key and inserted it into the lock. The comp security codes meshed, and the door clicked open.

The still, cold air that washed out told him all he needed to know. The house was empty and had been for some time. His hackles quivered, and he paid attention. His gut had never steered him wrong.

With a smooth motion, he unholstered his gun and held it to the side, Jewel out of his line of fire. They entered the house, dark and quiet, and searched room to room. The sparse decor displayed sleek new contemporary furniture of beige velvet plastion fabrics.

For a comp expert, the man was unusually clean and neat.

Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the sitting room. He stepped into the office.

“Ah. It makes sense now.” He toed aside a crumpled piece of paper. The office was a disaster. Dirty clothes on the floor. Used takeout cartons from the gypsy stalls in town. “Tazio lived in this one room, didn’t he?”

“Looks that way.” Brice agreed, peering over Guy’s shoulder into the room.

“It’s filthy in here,” Lady Wells said from the door as she retreated, Thomas at her bare heels.

“I’ll check his bedroom,” called Dr. Wells, who hadn’t entered the office beyond a cursory look.

When Jewel pulled to the far wall of the office, he followed. She couldn’t be out of reach, not until he got her settled, safe with her father, before Guy went to retrieve her son. Right after he found this Tazio and got Jewel’s collar removed.

He had a backup plan. If Tazio was such a hacker, then he’d check if the man could replace the Broker with more reliability than removing the collar. The possibility of keeping Jewel safe warred with the guilt of owning her, but he’d give her the choice if the odds of her living were higher. Whatever it took, he’d see to it.

Moving vids covered the wall in electronic frames. The flickering images displayed a young man, grinning, kissing a young woman, hugging her atop a mountain to the north of town. Jewel cocked her head and touched an immobile image of the man, his arms slung around two others, gypsy men from the look of them, and a robo-shepherd at their feet.

“That’s him.” She frowned at the image.

At that moment, his gut twisted, the hair on his arms and neck raised, and a crash rang through the house. Rounding toward the door, he pushed Jewel behind him and drew his pistol. He spoke low, for her ears alone. “Him, who?”

She took his cue and whispered hurriedly. “The one Kalon’s man killed.”

“Hell.” Really, there was nothing else to say to that.

Brice stood, pistollas at the ready, back against the wall next to the door. He peered out, face still emotionless.

With a firm and determined authority, Guy called out. “Dr. Wells. Where are you? My gun is trained on the door, and I
will
shoot anything that passes.”

“All of us are in the bedroom,” the doctor answered.

“Stay put.”

“Sheriff, how nice to run into you again,” called a third voice from the front of the condo.

“Shit.” This came from Jewel before he could process who was here and what kind of danger this third party would be.

“Jewel?” He walked backward, pushing her behind him until he’d pressed her against the wall of moving pics, his back to her front. All the while, his steady hand aimed the pistol at the door.

“That’s my husband.”

He tensed, body tight and aching.

“I mean, my ex,” Jewel amended.

“If Tazio is dead, we won’t be removing that collar,” he murmured.

“I guess not.” Jewel breathed in his ear, lowering her voice further as the thump of boots moved down the hall.

Slammed with elation, relief and despair all at once, he shook his head. The room spun around him, but he blinked away his confusion as a form filled the doorway.

The click of Brice’s pistollas sounded loud before the low hum signaled they’d been activated with live stun.

Guy’s pistol remained trained toward the door.

“Jewel,” the shadow said.

“How’s Jared?” she asked.

Guy’s thumb caressed the trigger. “Jewel, stay back and let me handle this.”

“Your husband?” Brice took aim on the man in the entry.

“My ex.” Jewel’s reply came steady, strong.

Brice lowered his weapon even as his face finally showed a reaction in a slight frown. He shook his head. “I can’t interfere in a slave custody battle.”

Well, hell. Some friend. He just needed Jewel to stay behind him, out of harm’s way, and he’d find a way out of this mess. She had to be safe.

Appalled at his momentary urge, he caught himself before he added compulsion to an order to stay put. He breathed out and rolled his shoulders. Jewel remained behind him and peeked over his shoulder. Her heat slid along his back.

“Jared is fine, though he’s asking for you.” Kalon hadn’t looked at him or Brice, as if they didn’t exist.

Jewel blew out a frustrated puff of air, low, but he heard. It took all he had to keep the gun steady instead of whipping around to pull her into his arms.

The beefy Terraloft in expensive garb who’d beat him, killed the clinic office manager and destroyed Jewel’s Broker walked into the room with his thugs in his wake. The thought of him siring Jewel’s son churned low in Guy’s gut, a wasted, useless regret he couldn’t squelch. Jewel’s hand touched the small of his back in a reassuring pat. Because they were near, and his emotions were running rampant, she must be getting his signals loud and clear through her collar.

“Come.” Kalon, looking harried, a bit disheveled, motioned Jewel to join him. “I’ve had quite the time following you here. Wasted time and money bribing shuttle pilots, cruise liner employees, hospital records clerics.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you. Didn’t you notice? Not only is she no longer your wife, but she’s been linked to another, and you destroyed her Broker in your fit of anger.” The burning in his gut intensified, churning and hot, nearly causing his arm to flicker, but he stayed firm.

“Sheriff, you’re wrong. In so many ways.” Kalon flicked his hands behind him. One of his men stepped forward. Kalon produced a shiny, unharmed Broker, a device that looked so innocent, just a fat cylindrical stand with a round indention in the top to hold a bracelet. “I didn’t destroy it. I took it into my safekeeping. Though I had different plans, this will suffice to keep my son’s mother where she belongs.”