MissionMenage (6 page)

Vegas paused. Beads of moisture formed on his forehead,
glistening on his tanned skin.

“Is there?” Panic welled up inside her. Why didn’t he
answer? “Is there?” she repeated, grabbing his arms.

His jaw jutted out and he pressed the nozzle against her
jugular. “A very low chance.” An excruciating pain shot over her skin.

“A very…” The pain spread and spread, paralyzing her body.
“Vegas?” She stared up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. What was
happening to her?

He tossed the injection tube away, and his face blurred. “I
have you, Raylee.” He gathered her into his arms, his body heat soothing her.
She wanted to hug him but she couldn’t move her hands. “I have you.”

“Hurts,” she whimpered, the ache causing her stomach to
roll.

“I know.” He brushed his cool, wet lips over her forehead.
“Be strong, Captain. If I could bear this hurt for you, I would.” Vegas rocked
her, the motion easing her agony.

Captain.
She closed her eyes, breathing in his musky
scent. “Remember…”

He chuckled, and his chest brushed against her breasts.
“Yes. I’ll remember your damn to-do list. I remember everything you’ve ever
said to me.” He gripped her tighter. “Don’t worry, love. Concentrate on getting
better.”

“Trust…”

Raylee fell into a swirling endless darkness. She reached
out with her arms and legs, trying to grab onto anything to stop her descent.
There was nothing. She was alone in a funnel of damp, stiflingly hot air.

Too hot. She pulled her flight suit off, and the fabric
caught around her wrists. She struggled. She couldn’t free herself. The heat
was unbearable. She was burning up. She writhed, frantic for relief.

A voice murmured unintelligible words, and rough skin
slid against hers, releasing her from her bindings. A cool breeze covered her
flesh. She spread her thighs, allowing the chill to access all of her, and she
shivered with delight as she continued to fall, the black starless night
smelling deliciously familiar. Safe. She smiled. Loved.

She rolled onto her back and landed with a thud on hard
ground. “Fuck.” She groaned, her ass, spine and shoulders aching. She sat up,
and a warm wall slid behind her, supporting her shoulders.

Moisture dripped onto her lips. She licked at it. Yuck.
It tasted like rotten rations. Another drop rolled over her chin. She sniffed
and wrinkled her nose at the metallic scent. She wiggled backward, and the wall
stopped her escape. She twisted to the side. A thick rope dug into her waist.
The liquid flooded her mouth, and she sputtered, choking.

She looked up toward the source, and she screamed. Vegas’
severed head hung from the beams, blood gushing from his neck. She screamed and
screamed and screamed. “Raylee.” His mouth moved.

Oh God. She thrashed her arms, clawing at her restraints.
“Vegas!” She screamed. She had allowed herself to love him, and he had died. Oh
God. “Vegas!”

“Raylee.” Cool hands held her face. “I’m here. I have you.”

Vegas? He was alive?
She blinked. Colors blurred
together. Shapes rippled.

“I have you.”

He rocked her in his arms and repeated that sentence over
and over until she believed him, and her terror slowly dissipated. He was
alive. She was safe. Vegas had her.

* * * * *

Raylee opened her eyes. Unfamiliar stars whizzed by the
bridge’s main viewscreen, the fast movement causing her head to spin. She
wiggled her arms. She couldn’t move them. A blanket was wound tightly around
her naked body.

“You’re awake.” Vegas’ voice rumbled into her right ear, his
breath warm and reassuring. “Thank God. Because for a moment there…” His chest
heaved against her back, his breath ragged. “You’re awake,” he repeated as
though reassuring himself.

Raylee turned her head, ignoring the pain shooting up her
neck, and she studied his face. Stubble covered his chin. Dark circles
accentuated his electric-blue eyes. The hair on his head stood straight up in
places and was matted down in others. “Hell,” she croaked, her throat dry and
raw. That was what he looked like.

He chuckled. “Yes. That would describe the past three days.”
He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her swaddled form. “I’d
rather battle a hundred Balazoids than go through that again.”

She tried to focus on his words but turning her head had
exhausted her. “Battle?”

“No battles. Don’t worry, Captain. Ship is safe. Sexy is
safe. I’m safe.” He tapped the end of her nose, and she blinked. “And soon
you’ll be well.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers, his calloused hands
framing her face, his fingers stroking her skin. He handled her with a touching
tenderness.

She sighed, contented to be near Vegas and too tired to ask
him the questions she should. All that mattered to her was he was here. He was
safe.

Vegas unstuck curls from her face and pushed the hair behind
her ears. Raylee’s cheeks heated. “Mess.” She forced the word past her parched
lips.

“Beautiful.” He smoothed her eyebrows with his thumbs. “And
brave and strong. You’re everything a man could want.”

He smiled. A raw, ragged emotion she couldn’t identify swept
over Raylee, and a teardrop slid down her cheek. He captured it with the tip of
his finger.

“No crying.” He licked the liquid off his skin. “You know
what that does to me.”

She didn’t know what it did to him. Raylee stared at him.
She didn’t know anything. Why was she on the bridge? Why was she naked? Vegas
stared back at her, searching her face as if he was memorizing every detail.
Why would he do that? Was he leaving her? Panic raged through her.

“Stay.” She curled her fingers around the edge of the
blanket, wanting to clutch his shirt lapels, but lacking the energy.

“I’m not leaving you, Raylee.” Vegas covered her hand with
his. “Not ever again.” His brilliant blue eyes shone as his gaze held hers.
Bright slashes of red colored his cheekbones.

“We’re on course, making good time.” He gruffly changed the
subject as though he’d been embarrassed by his declaration. “See that planet?”
Vegas pointed at the viewscreen and she turned her head, wincing at the pain.
“I spent an interesting evening there with one of the locals. He was a small
three-legged humanoid and by small, I mean small. He was shorter than you are.
But he had a big thing for the ladies.”

Raylee rested her head against Vegas’ broad chest, her
fever-ravaged body secured by his strong arms, while he spun tales of
intergalactic espionage. He talked, she listened, and they gazed at the passing
stars, the blur of light calming her.

Chapter Five

“Captain Raylee reporting for duty, sir.” Three days later,
his mate snapped a jaunty salute, clicking her boot-covered heels together.

“You’re feeling better this morning.” Vegas looked up from
the gun he was installing, adding extra firepower to Ship’s exit ramps. She was
still too thin, but her eyes were clear and lucid, her color healthy and her
smile wide. “Thank God.” He exhaled in relief.

“What do you mean ‘Thank God’?” She narrowed her eyes. “You
told me the Balazoid blocker made you sick for a week. I was only out of it for
three days.”

“I didn’t look like a half-drowned kitten,” Vegas mumbled.
“With those big eyes and quivering lips and—”

“What?!”

He sounded like a fuckin’ poet, not a damn spy. His face
heated. “Hand me the number four.” He waved his hand at the toolbox. She passed
him the tightening tool, and their fingers brushed, a spark of awareness
shooting up Vegas’ arm. “Your hands are steady,” he noted, reassuring himself
that she was alive and healthy.

“Rock steady.” Raylee draped over the gun, her firm, round
ass sticking out, tempting him to touch her. “So I can hold your mysterious
canister today. I won’t drop it, I promise.” Her grin was impish and the
corners of Vegas’ mouth quirked upward in response.

“You won’t drop it,” he agreed. “Because you won’t be
touching it. One drop of that green liquid could blow us into the next
century.” Vegas bent over to tighten the nut, grunting with the effort.
“Transport of the canister is my role.”

“Decoy is Sexy’s role. Transport to Lokan is Ship’s
responsibility.” She peered through the gunsights. “You haven’t assigned me my
tasks yet.”

Vegas deliberately didn’t answer. Avoiding Raylee’s
expectant gaze, he frowned down at the base.

“Why is that, Vegas?” She swung the gun around and he ducked
to avoid the barrel. “Don’t you trust me? I said I’d help you, and I will. I do
what I say I’m going to do.”

“I know you do.” Vegas heard the hurt in her voice. He
straightened. “Come here.” He pulled her close to him, her hips snug against
his, her breasts flattened by his chest. “I trust you.” He kissed her forehead,
rubbing her back. “I wouldn’t have told you my plans otherwise. And you have a
job. You’re Ship’s captain, remember?”

“He doesn’t need a captain,” she mumbled into his shirt. “He
tells me that all the time.”

“Because it’s true,” Ship added. “A captain is not necessary
for operations. I am a class-A—”

“Ship,” Vegas cautioned. “This is private conversation and
you’re not to interfere. We’ve talked about this before.”

“Fine.” Ship blew air through his pipes. “Then I’ll simply
ignore the Balazoid warship heading in our direction, allow them to board us
and spend another decade sanitizing blood off my decks.”

“What?” Vegas’ question was echoed by Raylee. Balazoids
.
A chill of fear rolled through him.

“Fuck. I have to get to the bridge.” Raylee ran through the
corridors and Vegas followed, doors closing behind them. “Ship, how long will
it take them to reach us?”

“At their current rate of speed, ten minutes. Their life
sensors are activated but we are presently beyond their range,” Ship advised.
“They are scanning for human life.”

They reached the bridge, a visual of the approaching warship
on the main viewscreen. Ship hadn’t been mistaken. It was Balazoid.

“They’re looking for you,” Raylee accused Vegas, her cheeks
flushed with anger. “And now that those Balazoid bastards have found you,
they’ll capture and torture and execute the man I care for while I watch,
helpless to do anything.” She turned and stared at the viewscreen. “I knew I
should have done this alone.”

“You care for me?” Vegas’ heart lightened.
She cares for
me.

Raylee looked over her shoulder and skewered him with her
eyes. “Ship, how many operational guns do we—”

“No guns.” Vegas shook his head, unable to wipe the silly
grin off his face.
She cares for me. My mate cares for me.
“Ship, is
there a planet a light-year past Lokan using the same path with humanoid
inhabitants?”

There was a pause as Ship searched. “Symra II, two thousand
inhabitants, Earth origin.”

“Great.” He nodded. “Reroute to Symra II, erasing the
previous route from your database,” Vegas instructed, focusing on keeping
Raylee safe.

“We can’t outrun them.” She frowned.

“And we’re not going to try.” He kissed her, savoring her
taste, her touch, her scent, and dreading what he had to do. “You’re delivering
the shipment to that planet. You don’t know what is in the crate.” They stood
as one, her breasts caressing his chest with each breath. “It is only you and
Ship and Sexy onboard.”

“And you?” Raylee curled her fingers around his. Her hand
was small and fragile, arousing all of his protective instincts. “Where will
you be? They’ll spot an escape pod.”

“I’ll be dead.” Vegas forced a smile, relaying confidence he
didn’t feel.

“What!” Raylee drew away from him.

Vegas pulled her back, unwilling to let her go. “Only
temporarily.”
I hope.
“I’ll hide my body in the closet and take a pill
to stop my life signs. It’s supposedly safe.”

She stared at him, suspicion written over her pretty face.
“If it is so supposedly safe, I’ll take the pill and you can be the captain.”

“I wish we could do that.” He hated putting her in danger.
Vegas brushed his lips over hers, finding comfort in the contact. “But you’re
the best person to pull this off. The Balazoid warriors won’t suspect a female
captain.”

Her brown eyes flashed with anger. “Because they’re a bunch
of female-hating—”

“They are, so play to their beliefs, Raylee. Keep your
answers short and simple.” Vegas kissed her once more before striding toward
the door, entrusting his life to the woman he loved. “You’re the captain. I’m
counting on you.”

He’s counting on me. I can do this.
Raylee rehearsed
the scenario over and over in her mind.
I’m making a standard delivery. Act
normal.
She sat in the captain’s chair, her hand on the controls, waiting
until the ship entered her airspace. “Open hailing frequencies, Ship.”

“Video and audio link established.” Ship was his most
formal.

“Captain Raylee of Class-A Federation Freighter USS
Fitzgerald
speaking, requesting if we can be of assistance. In a show of our good faith,
we are not powering up weapons and our shields are down.” Not that they’d be
effective. The warship would pulverize Ship into tiny particles.

“Greetings, Captain Raylee.” The viewscreen displayed a
wrinkled Balazoid warrior surrounded by five others. “Captain Grok of Balazoid
Warship
Onerick
speaking, requesting communications with your
highest-ranking male officer.”

Raylee gritted her teeth, irritation nullifying her fear.
“Request respectfully denied, Captain. This is a solo freighter with one human,
one companion android and one guidance system onboard.”

The mouths of the Balazoid warriors moved with no audio.
Damn
it. I’m on mute.
Their hand signals communicated aggravation. More faces
filled the viewscreen, looking her over.