Prime Imperative (The Prime Chronicles Book 3) (17 page)

“Leave them. We need
you
to negotiate a deal for us.” The leader’s gaze was back on her as he moved closer.

Bria resisted the urge to retreat—and scream. She did fully drop her shields.
Iolyn. Hurry.

Do. Not. Block. Me. Again.

Fine. Just hurry.

Iolyn’s response was a loud rumbling that reverberated in her head. A surge of masculine power once again boosted her own, and it was all she could do not to cry out at the intensity of the feeling.

Then Asshat charged her.

Bria brought her arm around. The surgical laser was on and set for cutting bone. She swiped it across her attacker’s arm as he grabbed for her.

For a second, maybe two, there was a stunned silence in the surgery and then Asshat screamed. A cuttingly sharp shriek that rattled the glass cabinet doors.

“You bloody bitch.” He jumped back. She followed and swept the active, sizzling laser back and forth in front of her, herding him toward the outer room.

Rat Bastard rushed to stand outside the surgery door at his friend’s shout of pain. He blocked her and Asshat’s exit.

Okay, that wasn’t good. She’d lost the element of surprise. She still had the advantage that Asshat wanted her alive and undamaged, as he’d put it.

Time to stall again.

“Stay back.” She waggled the laser in front of her, singeing Asshat’s sleeve when he got too close. “I’ll kill you.”

“You’re a fucking healer.” Asshat had the audacity to look outraged by her actions.

Bria felt a twinge of guilt for maybe a nanosecond, but just as quickly got over the feeling. “And you’re mercenaries threatening me. So the Hippocratic Oath went out the door as soon as you entered. Now, leave before I slice off your penises.” She aimed the surgical laser and let loose several short bursts.

“Fuck.” Asshat jumped back as the beam set fire to his pants, right above his pubic bone.

Rat Bastard cringed and covered his cock in response. “Man, she’s serious.”

Of course, Asshat and Rat Bastard didn’t need to know she’d have a really hard time following through on her threats.

“Ain’t no fucking merc. We’re free-traders,” snarled Asshat, who remained just out of her and the laser scalpel’s reach. “Heard on the docks. The Alliance values you. We need you to get what we want from them. Sort of like bartering.”

“You’re pirates?” Not men hired to kidnap or kill her. A crime of opportunity and greed, rather than planned. Relief engulfed her at the news that no one had followed her to the jump station. Nevertheless…

Bria snorted. “Mercs. Pirates. Same difference. You’re still bad guys.”

The men bristled. Their emotions grew darker and more heated. Their patience was running out. She needed a weapon with longer reach.

She blasted another laser stream to draw their attention and force them to move back. She used the distraction to palm a scalpel from the cart behind her. The steel instrument felt good in her hand.

Her
gemat’s
shock at her bloodthirsty plan wisped along the surface of her thoughts. He was with her, monitoring the situation—and getting closer with every passing second.

“Fuck, bitch.” A dark flush of anger turned Asshat’s face beet red. “Ain’t never hurt a bargaining chip before, but…” He looked her up and down. An evil gleam entered his dark eyes. “…for you I might make an exception.”

Rat Bastard then upped the ante in the game of standoff and aimed a laser pistol at her upper chest and shot.

Bria dove to the side as he’d raised his weapon. The low stun tagged her upper arm. Gasping for breath at the shock to her nervous system, she managed to hang onto the surgical laser as she scrambled to regain her equilibrium. Acting totally on instinct now, she threw the scalpel at Rat Bastard and then sent a laser stream toward Asshat to keep him off-balance.

Rat Bastard dropped his laser weapon with a wounded screech, his hands clasped around the scalpel buried in his throat, just centimeters from his carotid artery.

Dammit, her aim had been thrown off by trying not to fall. Blessed One, she hadn’t wanted to kill him, just stop him from shooting her again.

Asshat stared from Rat Bastard to her, shock on his face. Then he roared and charged.

Heart in her throat and her gut churning, Bria stepped forward and kicked Asshat in the balls. Hard. The pirate fell to the floor. Then she kicked him in the diaphragm. The only sounds coming from him were harsh, labored wheezes.

Dropping the surgical laser, Bria sidestepped Asshat and approached Rat Bastard, who was choking on his own blood. He’d pulled out the scalpel—bad move—but, at least, the blood didn’t spurt from the wound. She’d missed the artery. He’d live with proper treatment.

Swearing under her breath, she stooped and picked up Rat Bastard’s laser, setting it to low stun, and slipped into her waistband. Then she kicked the bloody scalpel under a cabinet.

Grabbing some surgical gauze off a shelf, she knelt and applied pressure to the wound. The gauze was saturated in a mere second, so she tossed it to the side and applied another pad.

From his still-coiled position on the floor, Asshat shot at her. The laser stream flashed across her arm, the arm Rat Bastard had already tagged.

Bria hissed at the pain.

Brianna!
Iolyn’s mental voice held fear.

She rolled over Rat Bastard, whose body blocked the doorway, and out into the medica waiting area. She took shelter on the other side of the door, out of Asshat’s view, fairly sure the bastard had set her on fire, but too busy to worry about it right this second.

Brianna! Answer me.

I’m fine. Sort of busy here.

She rubbed her sleeve against the wall to snuff out the fire. She hissed at the pain and smelled the pungent aroma of singed flesh and cloth. She looked at her arm and let out a breath. She had a second-level laser burn. It hurt like a bitch, but could be easily treated—later.

Later is unacceptable. You’re in pain.
Warm, soothing energy came across their bond link and calmed the pain in her arm.

She’d find out how he’d done that later.
Are you close?

The elevators are out. Fires were set in the stairwells.

How in the name of all that’s holy was he coming, then? She got an image of closed-in, dark, dirty spaces. Maintenance tubes. He was crawling in them to get to her. Better him than her.

Okay, he was on his way. But she still had a situation that wasn’t going to wait on help to arrive. Her empathic ability told her that Rat Bastard was near death. He needed help ASAP.

“Your friend will die if you don’t let me help him,” she called to Asshat. “Throw your weapon through the doorway, then come out with your hands in the air.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” he gasped out the words, the kicks to his balls and abdomen still affecting his breathing. She wished she’d kicked him harder. Maybe in the head.

Bria listened carefully for Asshat’s next move, because she knew he was stupid enough to make one. Asshat’s muttered curse words, the sounds of him dragging himself across the floor, and the noises from the regen beds were the only sounds in the room for the next few seconds. No sound was coming from Rat Bastard, which was troubling. Was he dead? Had she killed him after all?

Then the squeak of the surgical array’s cart wheels startled her. The screech was followed by a groan of pain and swear words. She pictured Asshat using the cart to help himself stand.

With his position fixed in her mind, she dove across the doorway and fired Rat Bastard’s laser, set on low stun, through the opening at the approximate spot Asshat’s torso should be.

He bellowed his pain.

Her weapon readied, she peeked around the corner.

Asshat lay on his back, pale and laboring for each breath. Defanged, for now.

Rat Bastard became her focus. His bleeding was sluggish, an indication his heart had slowed immeasurably.

Bria came around the corner. She knelt, put the weapon in her waistband, and checked Rat Bastard’s pulse. It was fast, thready. Breathing, shallow. Color, white. She pulled the surgical laser over from where it had fallen to the floor and sealed the hole in the artery. Now, she needed to get him on a regen bed, pour blood in him, and do a little arterial repair work or he’d die.

Asshat moved. She turned. He aimed his laser pistol in a white-knuckled, shaking grip. The man would just not quit.

Pulling her laser as she rolled to the side, she sent a laser stream, this time on high, into his torso.

Asshat dropped his weapon as her shot knocked him flat on his back—again.

Even if he were still conscious, his nerve endings would be synapsing like crazy. He wouldn’t be able to hold a spoon to feed himself, let alone fire a laser, for hours after such a hit.

“Brianna!” Iolyn’s voice echoed down the hallway leading to the medica.

Now, she’d get the lecture that even now he rehearsed in his mind about placing herself in a position to be attacked by pirates. He needed to save his breath. She’d do everything she’d done again except the next time she’d remember to arm herself while doing surgery in a place where there was a threat potential. And to always use high stun.

There will be no next time.

Yeah, there would. She was a doctor, and she’d go wherever the patients were. It was her calling.

I’m your calling.

Arrogant ass.

Bria slammed her walls back up and muttered, “We’ll just see about that, mate.”

“Brianna, stop shutting me out!” Iolyn’s roar vibrated over her skin and made her knees shake. He was the epitome of a frustrated, pissed-off male.

Well, she’d had a lot of those in her life. One more would be a no-brainer—but she dropped her shields because there’d been some hurt mixed up in all the alpha-male frustration.

“Bria, goddammit. Talk to us!”

And that was her brother. Guess he’d gotten past the frank “talk” they’d had earlier. She’d forgiven the family and him for keeping her Prime heritage a secret after his very rational explanation. And she couldn’t be mad that he loved her, but she was sad he was hurting.

Right now, he was just as pissed-off as her
gemat
. They really were quite a lot alike.

He wouldn’t appreciate the comparison,
gemate lubha.

Bria couldn’t help but grin at Iolyn’s wry tone.

“I’m in the surgery,” she called out. “Situation is under control…” then Bria muttered, “…as you,
my gemat
, well know.”

She stood and on shaky legs walked over to prep the only remaining regen bed for Rat Bastard’s surgery. The pounding of heavy feet announced the arrival of her backup.

“I need a little help here.” Bria turned. Dirty and disheveled from their journey through the maintenance tunnels, Iolyn and Damon stalked into the medica, with Wulf, Huw, and Nadia, all equally grubby, following on their heels. She smiled at the look of shock on their faces as they took in the bodies. Even Iolyn looked shocked, and he’d been in her mind for most of it.

She turned back to her preparations. “Someone needs to lift Rat Bastard,” she gestured toward the prone pirate, “onto this regen bed. He needs surgical repair and lots of blood. Someone else needs to call the paramedic back, because I’ll need assistance.”

“Don’t bother, princess,” Damon snarled. “The bastard’s a dead man anyway. Both of them will be sentenced to death for this day’s work.”

“Damon…” She looked at her brother, but was caught by the deadly look Iolyn aimed at both the pirates. Her
gemat
agreed with her brother. She wouldn’t waste her breath to argue with them. She’d do what she had to do.

She shrugged. “I’m still stabilizing the bleeding man’s condition. What you do to him when I’m gone is on your conscience, big brother—not mine.”

“What about this one?” Iolyn growled as he nudged Asshat with his booted foot. “Does he need surgery…before your brother passes judgment?”

“No. I only had to kick and stun him a few times. He’ll recover in a few hours. Might have some residual twitching and numbness—and sore testicles.”

Nadia choked back what sounded like laughter. Wulf and Huw didn’t bother masking their chuckles. Damon and Iolyn had the exact same expression of disbelief on their faces.

Bria smiled at Huw as he laid the limp body of Rat Bastard onto the bed. “Thank you, Huw.”

“You’re welcome, sister-kin.” Huw fingered the hole in her sleeve. “Nasty-looking burn. You okay?”

Bria smiled at her new relation. “Iolyn did something right after it happened”—she looked at her arm and poked gingerly around the blister—“it looks worse than it feels. In fact, it seems as if it’s healing super-fast.”

Huw grinned and nodded. But it was Nadia who enlightened her. “Yes, Bria, it is. Remember what I said about not fighting the bond? This is one of the reasons why. Warrior-
gemats
can soothe your pain, heal your injuries during battle. If you don’t let them, they get anxious and grouchy.”

Huw frowned, but didn’t contradict his mate. He did add, “It’s a Prime imperative to protect one’s battle-mate from hurt and fatigue.”

Nadia moved to Bria’s side. “Go to Iolyn,” Nadia muttered, “before he explodes. I can set the regen bed up for surgery. I’ve had paramedical training.”

Bria smiled her thanks and took a step toward Iolyn, who stood and watched her with an unreadable look on his face. She touched his mind—she
had
hurt him by shutting him out.

Iolyn opened his arms. She walked to him and let him enfold her within his embrace.

“Brianna…Bria…you prefer I call you that?” Iolyn pulled her close, took her chin in his hand, and gently tipped her face up until her gaze met his fiery amber one.

“Yes-s-s.” She swallowed hard.

One touch, his first touch—and she wanted him to touch her all over with those calloused, but gentle, fingers. She’d never responded this way to any male—ever.

“Please, Bria…
gemate lubha
…keep your shields down. I didn’t intrude when you were fighting the pirates, did I?” Iolyn whispered.