No Such Thing (26 page)

"That…sounds like the short version of the story."

She chuckled. "Very short. The Institute heads fought us tooth and nail, but Sam is still the best damned battle tactician you’ll ever meet and
I was…well, let’s just say I was in good standing with the public at the time."

"The Sunfire Angel." He was amused to see her blush.

"The media went overboard," she said with a dismissing wave, turning her face away. "Bunch of drama hounds."

"I was there, Ryelle. Anything they said was an understatement."

Her face tightened. "I was a murderer almost a million times over," she said in a flat voice. "They conveniently understated that."

His gut clenched, muscles twitching with the sudden, ridiculous need to hold her. He gripped the edge of the console hard, trying to remember that he
wasn’t going there again. Not
again,
goddamn it. "You protected us all, Telenetic Soliere. It’s not murder when you’re
defending your home and people."

"Philosophy, Master Chief?" she asked, looking up at him through her lashes with a flash of humor in her dark eyes. "Or semantics?"

It was a very bad sign that he was starting to enjoy her quicksilver changes in mood and direction. Very bad.
God, tell me I’m not this stupid.
"Time for bed," he muttered.

"Really?" She brightened with a teasing flutter of her lashes.

"To sleep."

"Ah, dang," she sighed, smirking at him with a devilish gleam in her eyes.

He was not going to smile. Smiling would only encourage her in this mysterious, dangerous game she was playing. "Goodnight, Ryelle."

"Sweet dreams," she murmured with a wink just as he cut the connection. He gritted his teeth and swore at length under his breath. If he slept
at all, it would be a miracle. Damn her.

Chapter 15

Ryelle bounced out of bed with unheard-of morning energy. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d slept so badly yet felt so incredibly good.
Part of it was due to the dream she’d had of stripping that sexy robe off Declan and tasting him all over.
Yum.
But most of her sense of
well-being was because he’d contacted her after saying he wanted nothing to do with her.

Even after that agonizing
once was enough
he still initiated a conversation with her. And what a conversation. When he wasn’t being hostile,
the man was devastating. He was a lot harder to read than he used to be, his handsome face hardened by time and experience, but she’d been able to
make him laugh, the masculine sound rubbing over her senses like rough velvet, a balm for her beleaguered heart and heated stimulation to her libido.
She’d hardly been able to restrain herself from crawling through the com onto his lap.

Progress had been made, though, and it had her dancing through her morning routine. She didn’t know why he was so hostile and wary of her, but she
meant to find out. After last night, she had a glimmer of hope that she could still reach him and she didn’t mean to leave until she did. Maybe he
couldn’t love her. Maybe he never had loved her. But she was just pathetic enough to take what she could get.

Even the memory of the GenTec and what she’d be attempting today didn’t dim her good humor, as she picked up the communicator and tucked it in
her ear. "Good morning, darling. Are you up yet?" she asked in a lilting voice, grinning when she imagined his response.

"What
did you call me?"

Back to hostility. She bit her lip, working to keep the laughter from her voice. "I call everyone darling in the morning. I also give out good
morning kisses. Where are you?"

He sputtered. She snickered behind a muffling hand as she left her rooms and headed for his office. "You’re in a hell of a mood this
morning," he finally grumbled.

"Mmm, very good dreams. Want me to tell you?"

"No!" He started swearing under his breath and she smiled in satisfaction.

"Main operations or your office, Master Chief?"

"Main operations," he said sourly. "We’re transferring."

"Ah, that was the strange vibration in the floor. Be there in a sec."

Declan was leaning on the rail, looking down into the holo-suite with arms folded when she stepped through the entrance. He glanced over his shoulder at
her, face hard and eyes cool. She chewed on the inside of her lip, thinking that maybe she’d pushed a little too hard this morning.

Before she could say anything, Pete bounded up the short ramp from his work station, his hazel eyes and square face alight with welcome. He looked like
he’d slept in his clothes and his fly-away hair seemed even wilder. "Good morning, Mem!"

Ryelle shot Declan a veiled glance of challenge before stepping toward Pete with a sweet smile. "Good morning, darling." He froze, jaw
dropping.

Declan made a rough sound in his throat with a threatening step in her direction. "No kissing," he growled.

"Party pooper," she said with a pout, flashing Pete a conspiratorial wink. Stepping to the railing with hands at the small of her back, she
glanced down and asked blandly, "How goes the worm-holing this morning?"

Pete snickered, then muttered, "Sorry, MC, she just made it sound so dirty," before he scampered back down the ramp. When he reached his work
station, he snuck a look at Ryelle and returned her grin with cheerful interest.

Declan sighed. "Don’t do that."

"Do what?" She glanced over at him, but he was glowering down into the holo-suite.

"Charm and seduce my staff. Too distracting."

"Fine. I’ll just charm and seduce you." When his head shot up, she gave him a brilliant smile. "Have you noticed how well I’m
keeping my talent in check today?"

"Go away, Ryelle. We have work to do."

She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin against his dark stare. "I want to know what you do. It might be pertinent to why the GenTec
are here."

Eyes narrowing, he was turning to face her when somebody yelled, "Heads up!" just as a ball flew at them. Declan caught it without looking, or
even changing expression. "That excuse is flimsy as hell," he growled, tossing the ball back over the rail, eyes still fixed on her.

Ryelle tracked the path of the ball, trying to stifle a startled laugh. A young man with the light of battle on his face launched off a console, flying
through the air in a swoop to catch the ball. Tucking it to his chest with a cry of triumph, he crashed between two work stations, jarring a middle-aged
woman with a fruitstick waggling from the corner of her mouth. "Foul!" she snarled without taking her eyes from her viewer.

The young man bounced to his feet, holding the ball over his head like a trophy and looking up at Ryelle with a triumphant grin. Then he caught sight of
his boss and wilted. "Sorry, MC."

"Give over, Jerra. That was a foul," Declan said in a severe tone.

"Aw, man." The young man’s shoulders slumped as he tossed the ball to a gloating coworker. "Toldja," the woman with the
fruitstick called without looking up.

By this time, Ryelle had to put a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Declan glowered at her again. "See? He was showing off for you and look what happened."

"Is—is the ball game…" Ryelle had to pause to catch her breath. "Part of the wormhole process?"

"Yes, but don’t ask me to explain the rules. They’re complicated."

She blinked at him then caught the subtle curve of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. She snickered, pressing knuckles to her lips.

"Hey, boss," a young woman called from one of the rings, "losing one of the units. It busted, making a hell of a mess out of the event
horizon."

Declan made a disgusted sound, turning to look up at the woman with his hands on the rail. "Clean up crew?"

"Mess is too close to the hole. We’ll have to shut down."

"I got it," Ryelle said, stepping away from Declan and unraveling a narrow arm of her talent.

"But Mem—Dec, does she know what she’s doing?"

Ryelle narrowed her eyes, turning her head to stare up at the young woman. Her tone had suggested an alarming familiarity with Declan and veiled disrespect
for Ryelle. Hints of jealousy.
Hmm.
Maybe this young thing was why Declan was resistant. "I’ve worked mines before," she said
coolly before Declan could answer. "I think I can handle it. And you are?"

The perky little blond stiffened a little but met Ryelle’s gaze directly, veiled challenge and hostility edging her features. "I’m
Engineering Assistant Asha Feverryl, Mem Soliere. I don’t mean insult, but that’s very fine work out there. We can’t have the least bit
of debris near the horizon generators." Her nearest coworker whispered something in urgent tones to the blond, but she ignored him.

Ryelle smiled gently. "Very fine work and I’m just a big ol’ bludgeon of a telenetic, is that it?"

"That’s not what she meant," Declan interceded in a quelling tone, pissing her off to no end. "She’s just never seen you work
before. Telenetic Soliere is more than capable, Asha."

Asha.
Ryelle ground her teeth together in a fit of furious jealousy. She knew she shouldn’t. She was above petty shows of force and should just get the job
done. But the green-eyed monster nibbled at her until she gave in.

Asha shrieked.

"Hold still, dear," Ryelle called, not watching her jump around. "It’s very fine work."

"Stop it, Ryelle," Declan said in a low voice at her side, his fingers slipping around her wrist. "You’ve made your point."

She forgot the miniscule braids she’d been creating in Asha’s hair, forgot the cleaning she’d been doing, and damn near forgot to
breathe. His touch sent heat spiraling up her arm and released an explosion of longing deep inside her. It had been so damned
long
since
she’d felt his warm strength, felt the masculine grace of those clever fingers on her skin. As it had so many years ago, it woke a desperate need in
her that went beyond physical, a soul-deep need to connect, to re-forge the bond between them that had been as necessary to her as breathing.

Unfortunately, his touch also made her lose focus and her talent fluctuated around her. He flinched and stepped back in a hurry with a muttered curse,
indigo eyes flaring with angry heat.

Taking a deep breath, she whispered, "I’m not going to apologize for that one. You touched me first, McCrae." Then she resolutely turned
her face away and finished her cleaning task. Tracing the cargo units back to the mining facility at the edge of the ‘roid field, she absconded an
empty unit and packed the loose ore into it. Then she returned the broken, empty unit to the facility, studying the remaining units in line for the
wormhole.

"Many of these cargo units have questionable propulsion systems. You’ll have more blow up by the end of the day."

"We usually have at least two or three," Declan responded in a level tone. "The miners tell us they can’t afford
replacements."

"Yet they make you do the clean up," she said with a rude noise in her throat. "Figures. Fine, I’ll do them a deal. While I’m
here, I’ll run the cargo. The credit they save with that should allow them to buy decent propulsion for their units. Approved?"

"That’s not why you came here."

She turned her head to look at him. He was watching her with a complicated expression on his face, blue eyes intense. "I came here to help. I’m
watching the other situation—nothing yet. When is the supply due?"

"A few more hours."

She swept a quick scan in the supply ship’s direction. "They’ll be a little early. The three attacking ships have left the main
contingent and entered the asteroids, but aren’t close yet. Can I make the deal or not? No extra charge, Master Chief."

"Goddamn, you’re scary," he muttered with the faintest quirk of his lips. "Approved, if you can get ‘em to agree."

Ryelle grinned and leaned over the rail. "Can somebody connect me with the mining group, please?" A hologram appeared not a foot from her face
and she squeaked a surprised, "thank you!" as she shifted back.

The woman on the hologram looked confused and annoyed. "Yes?"

"This is Telenetic Ryelle Soliere, currently aboard the Mobulus 3 station. I just assisted in a retrieval of lost ore from a unit of yours that
exploded. I notice that you have several faulty propulsion systems on your cargo units."

The woman’s face reddened as she blinked rapidly. "Y-yes, we seem to—thank you for your assistance, Telenetic Soliere. We have—we
have budget issues with these units—"

"How inconvenient, for you as well as the Mobulus station. Might I suggest a solution? I would be happy to run your cargo through the wormhole free
of any telenetic charges while I’m at the station. This would save you a substantial amount in manpower, propulsion, and clean up costs." She
added the last with an ironic glance at Declan, who ducked his head to hide a smirk. "Certainly enough to purchase more satisfactory propulsion
systems, wouldn’t you agree?"

"We don’t—that is…" The woman’s red face was now shiny with sweat. "You make a very tempting offer,
but—free of charge, you say? But there is a lot of ore, Mem. It would still be faster if—"

"That won’t be a problem. Pete, are you recording this?"

"Affirmative," Pete chirped.

"Log it under telenetic services for Mobulus 3 and make certain that the mining group signs off on it. Especially the part about requisitioning new
propulsion systems. If that’s acceptable to you?" she asked the miner with a gracious smile. "I hope you don’t mind my impatience.
You’re actually doing me a favor by keeping me busy."

"We’re flattered, Telenetic—"

"Lovely. You have a nice day now." Someone knew a cue when they heard it—the hologram flickered out of existence. "Okay,
crew," she said to the room while she disengaged all the propulsion systems on the units, "how fast can I move these things in?"

Pete said, "Wormhole can take it fast as you want, but—"

Fruitstick Lady interrupted, "Crew at the other end has to catch ‘em. Steady as she goes, please."