Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series (22 page)

Gruzinsky was, indeed, unconscious, but the repair kit indicated it was working and that he was stable. She laid a hand on his chest. “You’re doing well, Sergeant,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”

She hoped she wasn’t lying.

“...not sure what it is,” Makkon was saying. “I don’t recognize the scent, beyond that it’s some chemical formula.”

“Something one of them had all along? Or something that was brought to them?” Brax scowled. “I thought we’d found all of them.”

“Maybe something one of them stuck in a pocket—or a shoe. We didn’t do as good a job searching the prisoners as we should have.” Makkon glanced as Tamryn. She avoided his gaze, thinking of the knife she had managed to keep in her pocket and almost stab him with. “Likely, nobody thought the civilians would be any trouble,” Makkon continued.

Brax grunted. “All right. Stay here with those two.” He turned for the door.

Makkon’s back stiffened. “Stay? I’m the logical person to go on the search. I’m a hunt leader.”

“I know what you are.” Did Brax’s voice sound slightly of condemnation? “But until we can round up the others, they’re our only hostages. Look up her name while you’re lounging around in here. Find out why that pirate wanted her.”

Tamryn winced. She had hoped they would have forgotten about that. Didn’t they have other problems to be concerned about?

Makkon looked like he might object again, but he let Brax leave without another word. He walked toward Tamryn, irritation stamped on his face. She stood to face him, wondering if she should be more worried about being interrogated than Gruzinsky.

Makkon stopped in front of her and pointed at the first-aid kit. “Any bandages left in there?”

His gaze flicked toward her shoulder, her wound, she realized. The deep gouge had stopped bleeding, but the muscle and flesh should be knitted back together.

“Yes, and some Knit Gel.”

He bent to rummage through the supplies and glanced at the repair kit working on Gruzinsky’s abdomen. It was the only one. He wasn’t thinking of taking it to use on her, was he? Or maybe he was back to wondering if the man could be awakened and questioned.

“I’m fine,” Tamryn said. “I can wait until things settle down.”

Makkon grabbed bandages and some supplies. “Come.”

Glad he had stopped eyeing Gruzinsky, Tamryn followed him to the table in the center of the room. Several but not all of the rifles and tablets that had been dumped there the night before had been taken. For whatever good it would do, the scientists were armed. If Anise, Cox, and Powell were with them, they had some people trained to use those weapons, though she did not know how effective Powell would be with his right arm missing.

Makkon surprised her by grasping her hips and lifting her to sit on the edge of the table. He took some laser scissors from the kit and moved to cut open the collar of her shirt.

“Wait,” she said.

Though she wasn’t sure she wanted Makkon to see her topless, the blood stains had already faded, and she saw no reason to sacrifice her clothing. She almost changed her mind when she lifted her arms overhead, and fresh pain stabbed her. But she removed the shirt and laid it on the table beside her, avoiding Makkon’s eyes and staring down at the bandages. She was aware of how close he was; she could practically feel the heat from his body. Not that he would have sex on his mind now, not when dried blood spattered her chest.

He had grown very still as she removed the shirt, but he cleared his throat and selected an antibacterial cleaning solution.

“You fought well,” he said, dabbing on some cool goo.

Tamryn bit her lip to keep herself from thanking him. It would have been a reasonable thing to do, and after fighting side-by-side with him, she found it harder than ever to think of him as the enemy. But she couldn’t forget that he was exactly that. The enemy of her enemy might be an ally... but only temporarily.

He broke open a sani-cloth and reached toward her chest to clean the dried blood, but hesitated. “Maybe you want to do this?”

The idea of him touching her chest—her
breasts
—even if it was with a damp cloth instead of his fingers made her flush. “Yeah.”

She scrubbed herself thoroughly. She should have taken off her bra to make it easier, but that involved baring too much of herself. The shirt was bad enough. Still, she imagined he saw plenty as she pulled the material and straps away to swab herself clean. She glanced up to see if he was watching.

A gentleman would have looked away, but his gaze was fixed on her chest, his eyes intent.

“Did I get it all?” she asked.

“What?” Makkon asked, his voice hoarse. He jerked his gaze up and looked away, his face flushed. Well, at least she had embarrassed him. “Yes.” He cleared his throat again. “Yes, they’re fine. I mean, it’s fine. Clean.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “As I was saying, you fought well. It wasn’t your first battle, I assume?”

Tamryn hesitated, not sure if she should tell the truth. Still, that was what came out. “Actually, it was. My first real one. Though I had practice shooting at some asshole stalking me yesterday.” She felt bad calling him an asshole after he’d gone out of his way to protect her, but she couldn’t start thinking of him as anything else. That was too dangerous.

He smiled, a sad smile. It did not seem as if she should have the power to hurt him with her insults, but maybe she did. Instead of making her feel triumphant, that made
her
feel like an asshole. She almost apologized, but she bit her lip again to keep from doing so and looked away from him.

“It’s fortunate for me that your aim is better when pirates are involved.” Makkon finished cleaning her wound and pulled out the Knit Gel.

“My aim is fine. You’re just a crappy target.”

He snorted. “Thank you.”

She almost smiled but stopped herself. He was more dangerous when he was being quiet and nice than when he was in full-on warrior mode. Even though it stung when he applied the gel to her bare skin, she found herself aware of the brush of his fingers, the gentleness of his touch. A tingle of sensation ran through her, more powerful than the pain.

He leaned against the side of her thigh as he reached for the bandages, and her body hummed contentedly at this contact. The memory of kissing his bare chest came to mind, creating heat in her groin. She looked toward the ceiling, the very plain and boring ceiling, trying to forget those memories and the fact that she had enjoyed her attempted seduction far too much.

“Many people are too scared to act or think properly during their first battle,” Makkon said, looking at her with a smile, his expression proud.

She found herself staring back at the smile—at him. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter one iota, but for some reason, her inclination was to bask in the praise. And to enjoy that smile, too, one directed at her and no one else, one that seemed honest, genuine.

“I’m sure I would have been scared,” she whispered, aware that his mouth wasn’t that far from hers, “but I was too pissed. They killed
everyone
.” Emotion flooded her voice as the images of the dead officers washed over her again. “And they just left the bodies, pushing them out of the way like—” She broke off when she remembered who she was talking to. Had his people done anything with the bodies of those who had fallen in engineering? Or just left them where they had died? Probably the latter. Why would terrorists and invaders worry about dignity or respect for the fallen?

For a moment, neither of them spoke. He must have known exactly what she was thinking. He lowered his gaze to his hands and tore off a piece of bandage, the sticky side embedded with a numbing agent.

“Fury isn’t the ideal emotion to carry into battle,” Makkon said. “If it keeps you alive, it can be useful, but it leaves you as tense as fear. That makes your muscles slower to react than if you’re able to stay relaxed. We teach a mind-breathing technique that helps keep you calm even when chaos is all around you, and you’re being shot at or attacked by a huge predator. I could show you sometime if you like.” He was looking at her wound, but he glanced at her face through his lashes, wary again, probably not certain if she would snap at him.

Once again, she felt like a jerk for making him feel that way around her.

“Will it make me as fast as you?” Tamryn asked.

“Who knows? I’m a very good teacher.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

She swallowed, again struggling to think of him as an enemy when he smiled at her and spoke playfully. She didn’t want him to finish tending to her wound. Even if it hurt, she liked having him close. She shouldn’t like it, but she did.

Tamryn sighed and dropped her head. She hadn’t intended for it to rest on his shoulder, but his shoulder was close enough that it happened. He grew still, not moving for a moment. Then he finished applying the bandage and set the first-aid supplies aside.

Before she could do more than think about sliding off the table and getting some rest, he brought his hand up to the back of her neck. She tensed slightly, remembering the times he had steered her around that way, but his touch was light, his fingers caring rather than cruel as they massaged her. They probed gently, finding balls of tightness in her muscles, and working them until they loosened.

The relief was so intense that she almost groaned. She did melt as he stroked her, slumping against him, all of the tension bleeding out of her. In her mind, she knew this was wrong—she
should
be tense around her enemies, not melting into a puddle of goo in their arms—but after everything she had endured, she was too weary too resist. And she didn’t
want
to resist. She was tired of fighting him, and this felt so good.

His hands moved down to her back, finding more knots in her trapezius muscles. “It starts with the breathing,” he said, his voice close to her ear. “Even breaths, in and out through your nose, and you focus on your heart, as if the air is going in and out of it.”

“You’re doing this while people are shooting at you?” Tamryn murmured, barely able to think with her muscles loosening under his hands. Concentrating on breathing sounded like it would take too much effort. Anything would. Much easier to simply lay her head on his shoulder and let him massage her.

“Ideally, you’ll have a few quiet minutes to think about it before the shooting starts. It helps to practice when you’re in less stressful situations, so you can more easily find your way into the calm, measured breathing when there’s time. In addition to focusing on your heart and breathing, you want to think of things that engage your positive emotions, like love, compassion, pleasure.”

“Like you feel when getting a massage?”

He chuckled softly. Tamryn’s eyes had been closed, but she opened them, almost startled by the sound. She’d never heard him laugh before. Of course, when she’d been busy running from, shooting at, and cursing at him, he wouldn’t have had much reason. She probably shouldn’t be giving him a reason to chuckle now, but she liked the sound and didn’t want him to stop. She especially didn’t want him to stop massaging her—he had reached her lower back, and she had to resist the urge to wriggle off the table and into his arms.

“More like thinking of pleasant times with people you care for, or places you’ve been where you were completely at peace. Content. The monks who taught us this as boys had me think of hunting with my dog. You have your family, so you could think of them. My brother was my only family, and we were usually at war with each other, so the dog got my compassionate thoughts.”

The mention of her family reminded her that Brax had asked Makkon to look hers up. She was glad he was here rubbing her back instead. Maybe it wouldn’t be entirely selfish to encourage him to stay rather than remembering that task.

“Did you give your dog massages then?” she asked, wanting to avoid the talk of families, though she found herself thinking of his. Only a brother? No parents? For the first time, she wondered if he had a wife back home. Or children. He was older than she was, in his thirties, she was sure, so that seemed a likely possibility.

“No, we weren’t quite
that
close.” His voice held a smile. “Besides, dogs rarely need it. They’re better at handling stress than we are.”

“We had hounds when I was growing up. I think the secret to their stress-free existence is that they sleep twenty hours a day.”

“Could be.” He chuckled again, and his jaw brushed the side of her face as he adjusted his hands to work a stubborn muscle in her lower back.

His beard stubble had started to grow again, and the rough sensation sent a shiver through her. She wouldn’t have to turn her head far to kiss him. She would have to move even less to kiss his neck. If she shifted her head an inch, she could run her tongue down the strong tendons of his throat, taste him, breathe in his masculine scent. Of course, she wouldn’t, not even to keep him from looking up her family.

Someone’s voice—it didn’t seem like it could be hers—asked, “Are you married, Makk?”

His hands stilled for a moment, and intense disappointment filled her at the certainty that the answer would be yes.

Her disappointment was foolish—why should she care? They weren’t going to have a relationship. Once Fleet arrived, Makkon and his men would be killed. Even if they weren’t, if they somehow got away, she would go back to her normal job, her normal life, and he would be elsewhere, some criminal who had attacked a GalCon station and would be hunted for the rest of his life. Somehow, these thoughts did not make her feeling of disappointment wane.

“No,” Makkon said. “There was someone a few years ago. Make that a hundred and fifty and a few years ago.” He snorted, though there was little humor in the noise. “She went off with the insurgents. I’m sure this will surprise you, but I had no interest in starting a war. I stayed on Glaciem.
Most
of us stayed on Glaciem. It was only a few who... whose actions resulted in the obliteration of our moon.”

“You’re talking about the people who went out and took over stations? Planets?” Tamryn had gotten the history lesson from Anise, but they had only been able to speculate as to what had happened to result in this group surviving.