Marked for Surrender (7 page)
"I always hated that old bitch,” Dina said in her usual seductive tone. “But you didn't, did you, Ball Breaker?"
The laser pistol Mya and Dina had struggled over lay a short distance away. The last living act of the woman who'd protected Andia had been to knock it from Dina's fingers.
"She was worth a hundred of you,” Andia answered. She didn't want to shoot, but if Dina made a move toward the weapon, she would.
When Dina bent down and retrieved the pistol, Andia's heart sank. But the woman's next words made it easy. “Nobody wants Mistresses any more. You're finished. And after Pavlik finishes you, the rest of them will be easy targets.” She grinned. “Pavlik is the dominant. No females will challenge him."
"This one will."
Dina's smile dropped, and she fired the laser pistol at Andia, but the charge was spent, used to murder Mya.
Andia took careful aim and met Dina's furious expression as she blew the bitch's head off.
When Andia dropped from the window, Zevon caught her in his arms. The sound of laser fire had stopped his heart. What if she had been killed?
And why the fuck did it matter to him? Wasn't she all about punishing him for a crime he didn't commit?
He placed her on her feet immediately, though part of him wanted to explore those curves. Christophe had retrieved her bag and handed it to her. Both men looked to her for the next step.
"Move,” she said fiercely. Zevon noticed her cheeks were wet. Someone she cared about had died up there.
They slogged through the snow to a hanger off to the right. She reached the huge bay doors and pressed the code to open them.
ACCESS DENIED.
"Bastards,” she hissed under her breath. Without hesitation, she reached in her bag and pulled out her handheld. A minute later, she had it hooked into the door's controls and overrode the code.
When the doors opened, there was nothing inside. But Mistress Andia didn't hesitate. She strode into the hanger and stopped in the center. On the floor, Zevon noticed a panel concealed in the concrete. Clever.
A hidden metal opening revealed a small shuttle.
"Hurry,” she said and scrambled down the metal rungs. “They'll be here soon."
"Who?” Zevon demanded. “What the fuck is going on?"
She jumped into the hole, then glanced up at him. “Somebody wants both of you dead. And me along with you."
Zevon hopped down, his expression skeptical. “How do you know? Maybe somebody just wants to kill you."
Her eyebrows rose. “How do you know that somebody doesn't just want two traitors dead?"
She had a point. He shook his head. “There were better opportunities before we got here."
"One of my guards was in someone else's pay,” she admitted. “She could have killed me anytime.” Her dark eyes peered into the darkness. “No. Whoever planned this wants all of us dead. Get in.” She yanked down the shuttle door and waved toward the two men.
Christophe climbed in quickly. Of course he did. Now that he'd found his Mistress, he'd do anything she said. The jealousy stabbed him like a knife.
And he wasn't sure what pissed him off more. That his lover was besotted with Mistress Andia, or that Christophe was the perfect submissive while he was—well, he wasn't.
Hell of a time to worry about that shit.
"Move!” she ordered, and he snapped out of his thoughts and got his ass in the shuttle. What the hell was wrong with him?
He didn't want to think about any of it, about the layer she'd stripped off him in that room. Without realizing what he was doing, he sat in the pilot seat and started checking systems.
"Zevon,” Andia said softly. “Get out of my chair."
When he glanced up, surprised, her face softened. She held out a flight suit, and he yanked it on, zipping it up with jerky movements. He slipped into the copilot's seat. He shot a look at Christophe sitting in the back. He too was in a flight suit. The bastard was trying not to smile.
She didn't need his help, but Zevon knew it was nice to have someone in the next seat. He matched her movements, shortening their departure time.
It was the most relaxed he'd ever seen her. She was obviously an old hand behind the controls. The shuttle lifted off smoothly, and she shot the ship through the narrow bay doors with centimeters to spare.
They were immediately hit with a resonator blast.
It seemed their enemies assumed they were shielded. The damn shuttle shook like an earthquake, and Christophe was thrown forward. Zevon's arm shot out to keep his lover from smashing into the controls.
Andia had been tossed out of her seat, the straps of her belt torn out of the wall. Fucking resonators. Christophe, now steady as he could be, hauled her to her feet. The shuttle spun, but Zevon straightened it out
"Lose them,” Andia said breathlessly.
He didn't bother to answer. The terrain was unfamiliar, but he noted a canyon to his left. If he was lucky, there would be a fork or two that would confuse their pursuers. The console showed only one ship on their ass. Unregistered. Bastards.
The canyon narrowed and split as Zevon had hoped, and he jerked the shuttle to the left. Andia worked furiously at the controls. He couldn't tell what she was trying to do since he had his hands full.
The engine screamed as he took another fork and noted with satisfaction that their pursuers had taken the other direction.
"Okay,” Andia said. “We're cloaked."
Zevon shot her a sharp glance. Cloaked? How the hell had she gotten that installed?
She pressed several buttons on the navigation controls. “Programming location."
"Where are we going?” Christophe asked. So far, they'd been following her lead but still weren't sure what side she was really on.
He leveled out the shuttle so he was able to see her bleak expression. It wrenched his gut watching her grieve and keep it all bottled in. “Mya, my guard, my friend—” Her voice broke, but she took a deep breath and continued, “Mya had a cabin deep in the Kyiaga Mountains."
"How do you know whoever found us at Muan won't find us there?” Zevon was pretty sure he knew who was trying to kill them, but he didn't know what Mistress Andia knew.
"I don't,” she said bluntly. “But any of your properties or mine will be watched. I don't know if they believed Mya would betray the council."
The council. Shit. Zevon stared out the viewscreen, seeing nothing. He'd thought Pavlik was loaded with lots of
leder
coins to toss around to bribe people. But if the council was involved, there was very little they could do. The council controlled the vid streamers, law enforcement, everything. One of the reasons Nylar had always been so careful about who was on the council was because the power they wielded was immense. Only those who understood the dangers and responsibility of the job could have it. Until now, that system had always worked.
He gritted his teeth. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? If he'd just turned a blind eye... But that wasn't who he was. He might as well wonder why he had brown eyes.
"It just doesn't make sense,” Christophe muttered.
"That the council wants us dead? Not to me either,” he said.
"Well, that and a lot of other things.” Christophe's brow furrowed. Zevon loved that expression. Christophe looked like that whenever he had a particularly challenging project. He was brilliant at advertising because he had statistics and trends from thousands of sources in that amazing brain of his.
"What's bugging you?” he asked. It usually helped Christophe to talk it out.
"Either Pavlik isn't as smart as we thought or there's more going on.” Christophe focused on the ceiling. “He had enough control of the council to bypass our trial, and none of the evidence was scrutinized.” He focused on Zevon. “He could have killed us long before we reached Muan.” His gaze swiveled to Andia. “And he arranged it so we'd be under you. Why would he do that when you're known as someone who ferrets out truth?"
"Maybe he thought I'd be blinded by my prejudice.” Her face was blank, unreadable.
"He's not that arrogant, Mistress,” Christophe said absently, lost in thought.
Zevon noted her eyes narrowed, and she seemed irritated. He grinned. “He's in full geek mode."
She shot him a glare and then stared at Christophe. “Pavlik has taken three council members as his submissives. He's manipulated the system, and I think he's probably a traitor. That sounds arrogant to me."
"Don't misunderstand me. I didn't say he wasn't arrogant. He isn't arrogant enough to base an entire plan on your possible emotional response.” Christophe delivered this with no inflection, but Zevon knew how it would sound to Mistress Andia.
Was she offended? Yes. None of it showed on her face or in her tone. “Perhaps he was confident in the evidence used to convict you. By my research, you are both traitors to Nylar and deserve severe punishment. Why wouldn't Pavlik believe that I would deliver it wholeheartedly?"
Christophe focused on her. “I've offended you."
"You think?” Zevon said, amused.
Helplessly, Christophe turned a pleading look on Zevon. He sighed. “Andia—” He stopped when she narrowed her eyes at him and tried again. “Mistress, what Christophe is saying badly is that Pavlik takes every contingency into account. This is not just about getting rid of two nosy employees who stumbled onto his traitorous money-making scheme. This is about discrediting you as a Mistress."
The color drained from her face, and Zevon wished he'd been less blunt. “Discrediting me?"
"Can you think of someone who would want you gone?” Christophe leaned forward, and Zevon shook his head. His lover was like a dog with a bone when he was like this.
"No,” Andia said stiffly. “No one. I'm good at my job."
"Maybe you're
too
good,” Zevon suggested.
"No, that's not it,” Christophe muttered. He glanced up and met Andia's glare. “I mean, you've been a Mistress for twenty years, right? Why now? That's the question. Why does Pavlik want you out of the picture now?"
"Shut up,” she suddenly snapped, and Zevon widened his eyes. “I don't want to hear any more. It's all been a mistake. Think whatever you want, but I don't want to hear it.” She turned to the controls and ignored the two men.
Zevon and Christophe exchanged a glance. Zevon understood. Her whole life had been spent as a Mistress. She'd built a fearsome reputation based on integrity and toughness. All that was being swept away because of them.
Fly the fucking shuttle. That's all he could do. Zevon bent to his task and tried not to let the silence in the cockpit bother him.
Maybe it was because of the time he'd spent with Christophe. Zevon had always been accused of being insensitive and self-absorbed. A year ago, he wouldn't have speculated about Mistress Andia at all. He certainly wouldn't have given a shit that her entire life had been turned upside down by two men who were accused of treason.
Christophe was the sensitive one, always tapping into other people's emotional baggage. Zevon had been clueless about Pavlik. It was his lover's insight that had given Zevon a heads up about the man. It hadn't saved them, though. But perhaps it had made the shock of the betrayal and the lies a little easier to deal with.
What other shit was he going to roll around in his head so he could avoid thoughts about what had happened when she fucked him at the conclave? He gritted his teeth and forced himself to look at it, think about it, tear it apart.
He'd always believed he was a dominant. Not so much. He'd thought if anyone else touched Christophe, he'd go berserk. Wrong again. He had been convinced he'd never go down on his knees for anyone. Definitely not true.
Masochist? Yes, he loved the pain. But the facts were clear. He'd gotten his rocks off being at Mistress Ball Breaker's mercy. He'd loved it, relished it, and wanted to do it again.
What were the chances of that?
"Deep in thought?” Mistress Andia snapped him back to reality.
"There's a lot to consider.” He checked the console and wouldn't meet her stare.
"Zevon,” she said in a hard tone. “I'm not blind."
Finally he lifted his gaze and injected all the defiance he could into his look. “Did I say you were?"
Christophe made a sound of protest, and Andia held up her hand imperiously. He abruptly closed his mouth. Zevon raised his eyebrows.
"You can walk around it. You can lie about it. You can pretend it isn't there.” She reached over and stroked his knee. “But that feeling isn't going to go away.” She tightened her lips and turned back to the console. “No matter how much you'd like to deny what you are, the facade will wear thin. Trust me."
"Speaking from experience?” he sneered. “Oh wait. You were tested a Mistress at fourteen."
"Zevon, don't,” Christophe said softly. Yes, his lover knew Zevon only sneered when he was cornered or frustrated.
She didn't glance at him at all. “Just because someone tells you what your nature is doesn't mean it's what you want to be.” Her voice was emotionless, but he sensed the powder keg underneath. “Once I accepted my nature, my female dominance, my life made sense."
"Sure. It makes total sense now, doesn't it?” Frustration, helplessness, and rage at their situation boiled over and aimed right at the woman beside him. It wasn't her fault, but he heaped it on her anyway.
She kept her attention on the console. “What happens in my external world doesn't disrupt the core of me, Zevon.” Finally she turned her head to meet his furious gaze. “Can you say the same?"
No, he couldn't. And she knew it. Damn her. Damn them all. He shoved away the controls and snapped open his straps. “I don't need this shit."
"Sit down,” she ordered.
Before his brain kicked in, before he understood what she'd said, he sat.
Holy shit.
Something inside him broke. Before she opened her mouth to say another word, he shot back to his feet and scrambled for the back of the shuttle.
He shut the door to the cockpit with a resounding slam, then slid to the floor. Everything he knew about himself had been destroyed. He put his head in his hands and tried not to shake.
