Silver Bound (18 page)

After an eternity, the pod skimmed into the outer hull of
Station Geanus.
The specially created and still top-secret attachment device clamped onto a sealed, no-longer-used maintenance hatch.

“Right on target,” he spoke into the quiet.

Guy released the grapple. He’d have to buy Brice a case—or ten—of the finest Taphgan whiskey for the intellisense claw the mounties had devised to handle black-market shipments before they ever touched down on planet.

Based on plans of the station obtained from years of undercover work from Brice’s men, Guy had moored outside a maintenance shaft that should be deserted. If it wasn’t, this would be one short rescue mission. He had no illusions Kalon would let him live if the crime boss found him on his own station.

On the basis of their past friendship, and extending a tenuous and newfound trust, Brice had helped him with this crazy scheme, endangering years of his own work, with a promise from Guy he’d bring back Kalon to stand trial. Guy couldn’t gut Kalon but had to get solid evidence, when all he wanted to do was grab Jewel and her son and leave this station behind them in chunks of titanium decking and spacedust.

The remote device on his wrist checked as functional and connected to the pod.

He blew out a breath. “Time to get to work.”

Unbuckling, he floated weightless from the pilot seat. Using handholds along the rounded walls of the craft, he slowly made his way to the pack he’d prepared. As he passed a circular portal, Brice’s ship came into view. Dark, emergency beacon blinking, it looked dead, as was the plan. Still, plan or no, his heart gave a kick. His friend better be all right, or Kalon was a dead man.

Geanus Station
had played into their setup by delivering a stun-cannon warning shot across Brice’s bow. Brice had programmed the ship to react as if crippled. That better be the case rather than Kalon changing his tactics to live fire. In the confusion of Brice’s ship being spotted and sending stray signals, Guy’d launched the escape pod before he could verify Brice’s safety. During the two rotations floating in the pod, he’d left life support on bare minimum and let the gravitational pull of the station direct him where he needed to go.

After sitting for so long, he enjoyed the stretch of hefting himself, weightless, across the pod. He got to his bundle of equipment, donned his re-breather and wrestled into the backpack. At the hatch, he activated his spacewalk boots and settled the breaching torch across his shoulder.

The hatch spun to the side, and he set the suction clamps to attach to the station’s hull. Once he had a good seal, he used the wrist remote to kick on pressurization. His lasso slapped against his leg with the return of gravity. Without proper levels, once he cut into the station’s atmo, he’d set off alarms with the change in pressure, and this close to the station—actually attached to it—the kick of power from the pod would be undetectable.

More time to wait, to try and ignore the presence of Jewel in the back of his mind and her claim on half his soul.

Once the pressure leveled, he flipped on the laser torch and set to work, careful to keep the cut on the sealed hatch. The hatch had been used for access to antiquated power coils gone out of favor back when he was still cleaning up his father’s drunken messes every morning before grade school. The newer systems didn’t require this maintenance shaft, so it’d been reportedly put out of commission. The reports better be accurate or he’d never have a shot at getting Jewel out of this place.

“Jewel,” he whispered.

For two months he’d wallowed. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d waited for her. Waited for some clue that she wanted him to steal her away. Every day he hadn’t heard from her was one more step into hell. His life hadn’t been on hold, it’d been a veritable black hole, sucking the life from everything around him. Even Max had seemed to wilt a bit, his fur not as shiny, no longer begging to play their lasso game.

Then Quinn had shown up with that lousy plan. In working through how to improve it, how to be sure Jewel and her son escaped with not just their lives, but their future, he’d fallen back into rhythm. He was good at cleaning up messes, from drunks to bankrupt ranches. He was good at rescuing unwilling women from debauched Terraloft. And he was good at letting Jewel go. He’d done it twice. He wouldn’t do it a third time.

The cut completed, the hatch hung on the line he’d wrapped around the handle. He carefully hauled it into the pod and swung through the dark opening.

He landed on the metal floor with a clang and froze. Senses on alert, he listened to each little sound—the groan of the station and clicking of the cooling units housed a level below. No alarms blared. No guards clamored after him.

Making short work of removing his flight suit and space boots, he shoved them back through the hatch and into the pod. Using the wrist unit, he killed the lights in the pod and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit maintenance tunnel, all the while toying with the leather bracelet wrapped below the wrist unit.

With schematics committed to memory, he started up the tunnel and pulled the detection scanner from his pack. En route, he’d stopped off at
Zuthuru
and, wearing his boots and his silver star, he’d paid a visit to the silver-tip clinic nurse. The body of the clinic’s office manager had been found, and the nurse was grieving—and mad as hell. Didn’t take much convincing—along with a fair bribe—to get a scanner that could detect Jewel’s collar and the Broker.

He flipped on the scanner.

Nothing.

He knocked it on the side. Still nothing.

“She’s not here,” he croaked.

Tests on the device had assured him the damn thing worked. Every time a Terraloft and his silver-tip had passed him on
Zuthuru,
the device had lit up in all the right ways. Long-range scans had picked up dozens of silver-tips stationwide. Nothing showed here, on the entire station.

He thunked it against his leg. “Where are you, my Jewel?”

She wasn’t here. That bastard better not have done anything to her.

He blinked against the stinging in his eyes and fisted his hands around the scanner. The pod’s wrist unit weighed on him. With a tug, he removed it and flung it against the wall. Useless piece of tech. He couldn’t go back on the pod anyway until he’d checked on Quinn and Jared.

He ground his teeth to keep from yelling in frustration. With a perverse urge to get caught so he could beat on someone, he barely kept himself from banging on the walls and calling for them to come and get him. Damn everyone on this cesspit.

Throwing the scanner in the same direction as the wrist unit, he sank to the floor, hands fisting in his hair, elbows on his knees.

He shook his aching head and forced the blackness away. A shuttle needed stealing. He ran a hand over his vest, over the silver star. With a frown, he got back to his feet and made his way through the tunnel.

The maps from Brice put Jewel’s quarters two levels up, with Jared’s right next to hers. If she wasn’t here, the odds were that her quarters would be the safest place for him to hole up and break into the comp systems. He needed to find out where everyone was and how to get them to safety—if he didn’t get himself caught and strung up by his boot heels.

Maybe that’d be for the best. If Jewel wasn’t on this station, she wasn’t anywhere. Kalon wouldn’t have let her go.

At the end of the tunnel, he crept into the main maintenance area. The station ran on a minimal crew that Brice assured him wouldn’t care less about Guy’s presence. They were paid not to notice anything that happened here. He had to look like he knew what he was doing and avoid the guards, who should be occupied with the elder Quinn and his decoy ship.

Still, as he passed the few workers bent to their tasks, monitoring, gossiping and one napping, he held his breath.

No guards. The pitch of the workers’ conversations never changing, he punched the call button for the lift and kept his back to the clean room. Bright and airy with workstations set up along the middle way and banks of systems built into the walls, it didn’t look like the center of life for a crime boss’s station.

The lift doors closed behind him and his back tingled. He blew out his breath. So far so good.

After zinging upward, the car stopped with a small dip, and the doors slid open.

Right there, a hulking guard stood waiting to get on the lift. His head quirked to the side with a puzzled expression.

In that space of time, before the slow-witted man could react, Guy flew into motion. With a front kick to the solar plexus, the overpaid muscleman went down heavy. Curled into a ball, the guard protected his stomach as he tried to draw in air with a frantic sucking sound.

Reaching to his belt, beneath his lasso, Guy pulled out his cuffing cords and made short work of immobilizing and gagging the guard. He hefted the bulk of him across his shoulders and hoped like hell no one else would surprise him as he made his way to Jewel’s quarters, only a few short steps down.

Without qualms, he dropped the bound guard with a thud at Jewel’s door and pulled out a card key with stolen codes. Her door slid open and showed an empty room. His heart thumped as flutters spiked before calming. He’d hoped beyond hope she’d be here.

He pulled the guard into the room and locked the portal behind them.

Jewel’s room smelled of honeysuckle. His knees weakened until he locked them and swayed in his boots.

The spacious room had a soothing décor. An immense plush Taphgan rug covered the floor. The utilitarian consoles and furniture along one wall only accented the softness of the large bed right in the middle, the centerpiece of the room. Guy’s gut burned, taking away his breath, and he made himself not go there. Not imagine what had happened in that bed.

He jerked to the side wall and the nearest comp. They’d lifted her thumbprint off an old ceramic vase found in Jewel’s room at Quinn’s house. With a special film—also top-secret—he stuck it on the thumb swipe. On the wall covered with images, a photo of Jared brought him to a halt. Probably taken several months ago, the scene showed Jared laughing as he played ball in the middle of a large playroom. Her son looked so much like her. In one second, he knew he’d love this boy with all his heart.

The urge to go to the side door that led to the boy’s room nearly brought him out of the room, but he jerked to the nearest comp. He had to know what had gone on here. Where everyone was.

When he found the order to blow up his little craft, he ground his teeth again. He’d miss his little hot rod. Quinn had departed with Dr. Wells. Guess the doctor hadn’t gotten Quinn’s message to keep his ass on the
Jeffreys.
No matter, both men were away and safe. He also found the records of Jewel and Jared arriving, but not of their leaving.

She wasn’t here, but he didn’t know about Jared. He thumped his fist on the console. No clue about what had happened to her. If she wasn’t on the station and hadn’t left…

She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t allow it.

He lunged from the chair. It screeched and fell over behind him. Ignoring the plush bed, he walked around it and to the side portal that led to Jared’s chambers.

Rage burning in his gut, he entered the little boy’s room.

Honeysuckle washed over him, and the grief nearly blinded him, but what he saw in that room fused his boots to the floor.

Jewel shot up in bed. Jared squirmed in his sleep but settled back into the covers.

She blinked, sure she’d gone over the deep end. “Guy?”

He swooped her up and into his arms before she could clear the sleep from her fuzzy consciousness. This was no dream. He felt too good, too real, too virile.

Kisses covered her hair, her cheeks, her neck, and stayed there. His hot mouth opened, his tongue tasting her as he explored the area, still tingling from the removal of her collar.

“Jewel.” Guy’s voice was rough, low and shaky.

“Shhh.” She forced herself to remain calm, ignore the slight remnants of tingling in her silver-tipped areas, and ran her fingers into his hair. “We shouldn’t wake up Jared. You’re a stranger to him. Behind you, into his changing room.”

In long strides, he carried her into the side room, quietly closed and locked the door, and settled them both onto the soft mat that covered the floor.

She straddled his lap, and the hardness beneath her left her in no doubt. Heat flooded through her middle. Sensitive, on fire, she needed to be filled.

Hands met and tangled as they worked to open her robe. His mouth latched onto her nipple and his tongue teased until he drew her in and sucked. The pull started in her chest and yanked through her, leaving her throbbing all over, aching.

He pulled his sinful mouth away and whispered against her wet skin, “I thought you were gone.”

“I’m here.” She smoothed his thick hair away from his face. Though the dark circles under his eyes matched her own, the worry lines around his soft, delicious mouth melted as he stared at her with a deep hunger that reached into her. She kissed him softly then whispered against his lips, “I’m here.”

Reaching between her legs, he struggled with his dungarees for a moment then, with one hand, pushed down on her shoulder.

He filled her completely.

They both sighed. Their breaths mingled as they stared into each other’s eyes. The tension and grief hovered above her for only moments before she let it go. Eager for him to take her into the bliss only he could give her, she wiggled her hips.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” she confessed but refused to think about how inexperienced she really was.

“I’ll take care of you. I’ll show you everything, give you all.” He ground up against her, but instead of setting the rhythm she so desperately needed, he hugged her tight, kissing her neck again, tonguing around where her collar used to be. “Where is it?”

The cold of his silver star pressed against her breast. The smoothness of his vest and the roughness of his dungarees beneath her bared bottom excited her. She tightened around his erection and he groaned but didn’t move. “Make love to me, please.”

“Oh, I will. But I need to know.” He slid one hand from around her and tucked it between their bodies. With unerring skill, his thumb found that most aching spot and circled.

“There,” she gasped.

“Tell me.” He panted against her neck as he held her tight with one arm. The only spot moving was that thumb driving her mindless.

She managed to talk, though she wanted to sink into the sensual bliss calling to her. “Dr. Wells had a program. It worked on his wife. He only needed your DNA. They got blood from you when you were drunk and got into a fight.”

“I did drink a bit for a few days. Or a lot. It’s a blur. I thought I’d lost you.” Then, as if he couldn’t keep still, his hips started to rock beneath her, grinding slowly, quickly driving her toward her zenith. “Not so fast, sweetheart. We have more to do here.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Never.” Flushed high on his cheekbones, he leaned back away from her neck. “Kiss me.”

He continued his slow assault with his thumb, and she leaned down and nibbled on his lower lip before dipping inside. Reflecting the increased pace of his hips, the kiss turned carnal, desperate, long and deep. His clothes rubbed against her exposed skin and made her feel wicked.

He pulled back and cradled the side of her face. “You want me. Without the collar.”

“I’ve always wanted you.”

Face contorting into lines of effort, he thrust up, hard. Over and over again he pressed ruthlessly against her clit. All points zeroed in on the heat radiating from between her legs, how full she was. The slide of him inside her was delicious. She never wanted it to stop, but she couldn’t hold back. The lure too much to resist, she clenched all around him, tight. A delicious climax rolled through her and sent her legs trembling.

She collapsed against him. His arms came around her again in a fierce hug. With a grunt, he rolled them over, still deeply seated inside her. Poised above her, he drew his arms beneath her legs and pressed her to the floor.

His mouth covered hers and he pumped into her, hard, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Clutching at him, she moved with the force of him, hungry for more. He pinned her down and thrust harder, faster, faster.

Breaths coming in gusts, face turning red, he broke their kiss and stared into her eyes. The connection between them so intense, she nearly had to close her eyes in self-defense, as if her soul were bared completely. Nothing between them at all. Not his clothes, not her quiet silver-tipping.

The strain of exertion lined his face but he never let up, never broke his stare or his pace as he moaned, deep and guttural, grinding his hips against hers, and he came, his eyes defocusing for a long moment. She shuddered and went over with him.

His brown eyes ensnared her, more so than any programming could ever do. Then the rigidity left him and he collapsed on her chest. Nothing had ever felt so good as his weight covering her languid, well-pleased body.

“I love you,” she said, when she could speak again.

“Sweetheart, you are my life. Love doesn’t even begin to cover how much you mean to me.”

Tears stung and she opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak.

He kissed the tip of her breast then pulled away. “When I get you home, I’m going to finally make love to you like you deserve. In a bed, all our clothes off, all night long. But we have to get away from here, and we have to find home.”

She struggled up off the floor and adjusted her robe as he tucked himself back into his pants. Her voice cracked. “What do you mean, find home?”

“We can’t go back to Rangetown.” He glanced at her silver lips and quickly ducked his head to adjust his gun belt and lasso.

“No, I can’t take you away from your ranch. Not after all the work you’ve done to make it successful.” She could never do that.

“Why do you think I did it? Why do you think I made that ranch the best spread on Grassland?” He stared at her, lips turned down at the corners, and ran a hand through his hair. She lost herself in the depths of brown, dark and endless. “I did it for you. To prove I could be good enough for you. After I had you and then lost you, I was drinking myself into a grave like my old man. Then Brice made me see how I was following in that good-for-nothing man’s footsteps, but it took seeing your father, seeing the possibility of getting you back, that made me see the full truth. I might not have been born to aristocracy, and I might have cheated a little to get started—well, maybe cheated a lot—but I’d never step on anyone to get to the top. I’ve righted all my wrongs. I’d never swindle the innocent. I’d never murder or silver-tip anyone. I’m a better man than Kalon and his like.”

He bent forward to kiss her gently on the forehead and spoke against her hot skin. “I’m the man for you.”

“Always,” she croaked.

He stepped back and nodded, as if he expected her acquiescence. And why not? She loved him because he was a good man and the perfect man for her. It was about time he saw that truth. It was about time she lived that truth. But she’d live it on his ranch. She’d make him see that.

Door open, he’d already stepped through before she knew what he was doing. Waving to her, he motioned to Jared still sleeping in his mammoth bed. “Introduce me to your son.”

Guy stopped at the side of the bed and stared down with a quirk to his lips. His face soft, he appeared so much more at ease than he had since this all started. She sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled back the covers. “Jared, sweetie, time to wake up.”

Like the boundlessly energetic boy he was, he sprang up in bed, awake immediately. “Who’s this?”

“This is Sheriff Trident. He’s from my hometown, and he’s come to take us home.”

“A real sheriff?” Jared’s eyes widened. “Can I see your gun?”

Guy laughed, that full, rich sound she remembered well from her youth. Something inside her loosened. “I’ll show you, but you can’t touch. One day I’ll teach you how to use it.”

Any hesitation either of her males might have shown dissipated in their immediate bond. Guy sat next to her and showed Jared his six-shot, careful to keep the little boy from touching and explaining the danger of the weapon. Before she knew it, Guy’d put away the weapon and had Jared on his lap, telling him about Max, his dog.

“I can’t wait to meet Max.” Jared bounced to the floor to scramble out of his pajamas.

“He can’t wait to meet you.” Guy’s smile faded and he whispered to her. “I hope we can get Max before we head to wherever it is we land.”

“Guy, we’re going home, to your ranch. Nowhere else.” She patted this thigh and left her hand there, comforted by his warmth.

“Let’s get out of here. Do you need to take anything with you?” Guy stood and looked around the room.

“I don’t want anything from here except Jared.” She’d never meant anything more. Except she did want Guy’s jacket, which she’d hid among her pillows.

A chill snaked over her. She turned her head to the opening slider.

A dark form filled the door. “You’re not taking anything from here, and you’re not taking my son.”

Jared pounced on her, nearly toppling her from the bed, and threw his arms around her. She held him tight.

Guy spread his legs, hands hovering over his gun. “Kalon. Just step aside and let us pass. You don’t want to interfere here.”

“You have no authority at all on my station, Sheriff. You shouldn’t have come. I would’ve let you live.”

Jared whimpered and dug his nose into her chest, as if to get away.

“Don’t. You’re scaring Jared,” she hissed to both men.

They didn’t listen. They circled each other in the middle of the room, sizing up one another. Kalon was tall, broad, beefy. Guy, as tall, moved smoothly. His muscular build came from hard work and sweat. His lithe form prowled with a grace that was deceptive. Years ago, she’d seen him grapple with Brice and win, but could he overpower Kalon?

Kalon seemed to think he couldn’t because he stepped forward and swung his fist at Guy’s face. Guy stepped back and avoided the hit, kicking out and smashing his boot into Kalon’s knee.

Her ex went down, but lunged onto Guy and took him to the floor with him.

She held her breath, unable to move, frozen in place until Jared’s whimper brought her up. She couldn’t help either man, not with Jared clinging to her.

Kalon punched Guy’s stomach. Guy kicked, threw his elbows, and a wild thrashing of limbs, fists and knees flew. She had no idea who would win the fight, but she had no intention of staying with Kalon or leaving Guy behind. She whispered to Jared, “Don’t look. Just get dressed fast as you can.”

With unerring instinct, Jared obeyed, getting his clothes and throwing them on in record time. Once he was safe, she’d help Guy, somehow.

Kalon used his superior weight to hold a struggling Guy to the floor beneath him. He pounded him mercilessly. Guy couldn’t win. He’d never make it out of here alive.

She had to
do
something. Tears running down her face, she lunged at Kalon and threw all her weight against him. He grunted and fell to the side.

Nose bleeding, Guy scrambled up, but didn’t pounce on Kalon. He mumbled through swollen lips, “Run. Trust me. Just run to the shuttle bay and board the nearest ship.”

“No.” Her answer came, determined.

Kalon roared and flung Guy around to meet his fist. Guy fought back with a punch to Kalon’s kidneys, but he continued to yell at her. “Run.”

“You won’t get far.” Kalon halted his pummeling fists and held Guy by the arm.

They both paused, lungs heaving, red marks growing livid on their faces.

Jared pulled on her. “Let’s go, Momma.”

“Go.” Guy pulled away from Kalon and stood, hand over his gun. “Get on a shuttle.”

“Don’t move.” Face reddening, Kalon turned his back on Guy and faced her fully. His stare promised retribution if she disobeyed. At that moment, Kalon seemed invincible, terrible, but she trusted Guy. He’d told her to leave.

Jared’s hand in hers, she turned on weak knees, moved toward the door and ignored the scuffling behind her.