Handsome Devil (5 page)

Nah. I've never been much for grand larceny or complicated plotting. I'll leave that to my sisters and concentrate on finding my own way.

Starting with revenge.

The ship locates a life form. I access the room's video monitor. Whoa, mama.

He's naked.

Okay, a quarter naked.

But man. That is...well, that's not shabby. He still has his shirt on (dammit) but apparently taking off his boot wasn't enough. He had to pull his pants down and off of one leg to get to the miniature stab wound I gave him.

He's sitting in some kind of mess hall type place, on a bench. There's a medkit on the table next to him. His head is bent while he butterfly bandages his leg, so for a solid minute he has no idea I'm ogling one shapely, hairy man-leg and just the barest hint of butt cheek.

Ferissians apparently go commando.

It's not fair, how hard even this small amount of skin hits me. In the grand scheme of things it's nothing. Swimsuit models wear less. It's just that it belongs to, you know,
this
guy. A hot bastard of a bounty hunter with pink highlights and sharp teeth.
 

Geez. I have got problems.

I must have made a noise, alerting him to my observation. His head snaps up, eyes immediately on me.

I hurry to tap a few more buttons. A shield slides into place over the door, sealing him in.

He shoots to his feet.

Holy cow. Look at that cock. Flaccid it's impressive without being all, “yikes, that wants to go where?”

He narrows his eyes at me, totally ignoring the fact I can drool over—see,
see
, I mean!—his junk. “Don't make this mistake, Agmoiria.”
 

That's like waving a red flag in front of a bull and snaps me right out of my stupor. “You're not even going to ask how I got out? Threaten me with death or dismemberment? I was kind of hoping we'd have that conversation. I'd get to brag about beating your sorry ass at your own game.”

Staring at him is bad. That much is clear. I have to get my mind on other things, like getting Betty on the horn and letting her know what's going on. I start initiating the sequence.

“
This is hardly a victory.”

“
I caught you with your pants down,” I point out. He doesn't have to know about my own panty-meet-floor party.

He doesn't even look down at himself.

Which, for some reason, I find arousing as hell, and that makes me mad. “You know what? You just sit tight. I've got a ship to run.” I cut the transmission and get right to steering mechanics.

Nothing happens. I can see where we're going, and how long it's going to take to get there, but no matter what I do, I continually get the “access denied” message. The steering wheel won't rise from the panel.

Encoded to M'anu's prints.

I slap the panel. Damn. That is smart. Is there anything else encoded to him?

I bring up the program and start to read as the call to Betty 'rings'.

Click. “Who the fuck is this?”

“
You really need to work on your phone manners,” I say as I continue to scan the information.

“
Babycakes! Where are you calling from?”

“
Ever heard of M'anu the Ferissian?”

“
Oh. Shit.”

“
Yep. Apparently the bounty is from his brother and this is all a big twisty plot to get you into Ferissian clutches. What the hell did you do to that guy?”

“
What can I say?” My sister is the queen of flip. “I'm popular.”

“
Whatever. I've got control of the bridge—don't ask me how—but I can't change coordinates.
He's got the—” My eyes widen. “
Motherfucker.
”
 

Betty is instantly on alert. “What?”

M'anu has voice control over shield mechanisms. He can open the door with just a word.

I get up and dash to the bridge's door, an old fashioned metal number, pulling the barrier shut with a clang and slamming the bar into place. There's a small window, and I have no doubt in my mind that it's going to be filled up with ticked off Ferissian face in less than a minute. “Listen Betty, can't talk. Lock onto this ship's grid and follow the trail. Bring the cavalry. Bring guns. I don't care. Just get here.”

I hear the banging of boots. He's not running, but he sure as hell isn't taking his time. “I'm out, okay?”

“
Got it.” Betty hangs up without another word. Just in time. M'anu's arrived.

Whether he heard my 'distress' call or not totally escapes my mind when I see him framed in the window. His eyes pierce me through the glass, his chin lowered, and it's clear he's picked up the gauntlet I laid down. He says something—I can't hear it, but it looks like a very enunciated, “Open. Up. Now.”

I should be terrified.

Maybe I am.

But if I'm going down, I'm going down with style.

So I give him my biggest grin and point at my chest, then his floor. “I've. Got. Your. Ship.” I snap my fingers and then I'm off, doing a victory dance right there on his bridge.

I shimmy. I shake. I basically bust out every move I learned dancing in clubs in Europe. I close my eyes and purse my lips into an excessive pout, swishing my hips from side to side before I turn and wiggle my booty. I hum my favorite club tune. And just because I haven't dug myself in deep enough, I do the Running Man for good measure.

I wish I could take a picture of the look on M'anu's face right now. It's priceless, like he's witnessing the most bizarre thing he's ever encountered and doesn't know how to feel about it. I just...it defies description.

I've still got the upper hand though, and I dance/skip my way back to the chair. I disco turn on my heel and plop down. Let's see how he likes having someone's back turned on him. I'm going to see what other goodies I can get this baby to give up.

I interlace my fingers and pop them high above my head. “Let's see here...”

I retrace M'anu's digital signature and come back to the last call he made. My lips twist. Well, well, big brother's phone number. What the hell is his name, anyway?

I use the number to dig through a few pertinent records, ignoring the way space is zipping by my viewscreen. Without manual control it doesn't interest me much; the ship knows when there's dangerous proximity to another object. It'll avoid it automatically and if it's a real emergency, I can always let M'anu back in.

I'm not
looking
forward
to that option, but it's still a choice.
 

There's a beep and an image of the brother fills the screen. Feruz of the House of Tipprov. Looks must run in this family. Of course this guy isn't
as
pretty as M'anu. He's a little rougher, heavier set, with a shaved head and truly amazing eyebrows. I mean, they're like thick slashes of black paint across his face. Very decisive. I think I see a hint of a tattoo on his scalp, but I can't be certain. He's a beast, that's for sure.

I cock my head. Betty's type?

Maybe. Guy amounts to a space warlord. She likes the confident ones.

I feel like I should hit this dude where it hurts. You know, for instigating this kidnapping thing and giving my sister guff. I drum my fingers on the display.

Ting-ting
.
 

I accept the intership communication. “I've got a question,” I say as I start establishing contact with the Tipprov tub. “Are you guys meat eaters?”

“
Open the door, female,” M'anu utters in a low, raspy voice.

“
I'm about as amendable to that as you giving me the scoop on Feruz and Betty. So—meat eaters? Vegetarians? Omnivores?”

A pause. “Why?”

“
Well, I'm a little pissed off about this whole whacked out plot, but Betty would kill me if I steal away her chance for payback. I figure some sabotage is in order.”

He growls in warning. He does that a lot. I think about the way he paced the perimeter of my cage earlier, inspecting me with that hard stare, and I get a little flushed under my tank. Not good. I've been on this ship less than two hours and I'm developing a...well, I don't know what to call it, but this BS is not acceptable.

“
Leave my brother alone, Agmoiria, or you will not like my reaction.”

That
ticks me off. “You know what, family solidarity isn't a concept reserved only for Ferissians. Your brother messed with my sister first, and then you were all 'it's an honor to tangle with your mother'.” Seriously, the nerve. “Heads up about the Jenners; we don't take that kind of shit lightly. The gloves are off.”
 

I click the food replicator and get to work. “I am going to take an educated guess about the diet
and go with carnivore. So from now on your brother is going to get a steady supply of tofu and vegetable based products. Congratulations, Feruz is a vegan.” I hit
enter
and
lock,
then hold my hand high above my head so he can see the middle finger I'm flipping him. It probably doesn't mean anything to M'anu, but he's smart enough to figure out this isn't saying hello.
 

What I did to Feruz isn't satisfying by a long shot, but it's all I can do without blatantly announcing that I've taken over the ship. These Ferissians aren't stupid. He would know right away that I'd warn Betty first thing. Instead of chasing her, he's now going to be sitting in Earth's orbit waiting for nothing and thinking his food processor is on the fritz. It's a teeny tiny vengeance, but it's better than none at all. I'll leave the rest to Betty.

And Dad. And Mom.

By the time this is all done, Feruz and M'anu are going to wish they'd never heard of the Jenners.

There's radio silence. “Still there, you gigantic jerk?”

Nothing.

Frowning, I lean over the chair's arm and peer back at the door. The window is empty.

I slowly spin in the seat and get up. I don't trust it, but I've got to check, so I approach gingerly. Part of me thinks he's going to do something immature like jump out and scare me. The other part scoffs in a sort of,
Bitch, please, he's a badass alien. You're lucky he hasn't shot you yet.
 

Too true.

I don't think M'anu is all that interested in killing me, but that doesn't mean he hasn't fantasized about blasting a toe off. I did stab him. And nut him. And headbutt him.

To be fair, he had it coming, but I doubt he sees it that way.

I lift myself up on my tippy toes and cautiously look through the thick glass. I see metal parts and a catwalk, but no M'anu.

Curiouser and curiouser.

I pick up the duffel he threw down earlier as I walk back, dragging it along to the console. I access the system and locate M'anu within seconds.

He's back in the mess.

I'll be damned. He's eating. Scarfing it down like it's going out of style. What, power of suggestion or something?

I disconnect the video feed before he notices me, my stomach growling. I glance at my watch. I have to ditch phones a lot, so unlike others of my generation, I actually rely on an actual timepiece to tell me the time. It's about four in the morning. I'm overdue to eat. Now that all the excitement is on
pause, I'm also suddenly
wrecked.
It hits me like a ton of bricks.
 

There's a small bank of folding seats diagonal from the main console, and I schlep over to it with sagging shoulders. It's not going to be the most comfortable bed, but there's no way I'm sleeping on the floor. I fold one seat down and start digging through my duffel. I've got protein bars in here somewhere.

I try to work up some enthusiasm when I find a couple. It's better than nothing and I really am hungry. If it's not steak and mashed potatoes, fine. I'll live.

I unwrap the bar and get to eating. Now that I've got downtime, the events of the night rush through my mind in a tumble. I should call Dad and let him know I'm alive. I wonder what's going to happen to the pub. It will be a few days before I get back. By then the kidnapping will have been reported. There were a ton of witnesses. With some decent investigating the police will find the tunnel under the pub. That will be hard to explain away. I'll bet people are going to think I'm a mob daughter or something. They wouldn't exactly be wrong. It's hard to admit, but I think it's pretty clear I can't just reappear out of the blue and claim it was all a mistake.

That part of my life is over apparently.

My head sags back against the wall. Dammit. I really liked that pub. I really liked my friends and the life I've built for myself the last little while. Now it's all gone and I've got to start over because someone's got a hard on for my psycho sister.

I wish I can say I'm surprised. Not really. I'm kind of used to it, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about the way it turned out. I worked hard. Owning a pub is about more than giving drinks out to people. It's making deals, taking deliveries, getting drunks the hell out before they break something or get themselves arrested, calling cabs, cleaning up vomit, and sometimes cooking. It's long hours and trying to find reliable help. It's having your life center around something that can't love you back, but you throw yourself in anyway.

Tears prick my eyes. I'm not a crier, but I think I've earned a second or two of self-pity tonight.

I sniff and take another bite of my bar. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, sniffing again. I swallow hard. Okay, life isn't fair. Time to move on. Get some sleep while I can. I don't think M'anu is going to spend the rest of the trip eating his guts out.

I pull a bottle of water from the bag and uncap it to suck down a few gulps. It makes me feel a little bit better, as cliché as that sounds. I go ahead and also retrieve the ibuprofen I put in there ages ago and take two. I have a feeling I'm going to need it in the morning. Might as well wash my face too. Get some of the blood off. It stings a bit, but there don't seem to be any leftover splinters. Good. That would have been unpleasant.