Queen of Swords (8 page)

Chapter Nine

The ship barely shuddered as it slipped into Psrida’s atmosphere. Ophelia leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She should have been planning an escape, but all she could do was hope her stomach would hold the plain bread she’d eaten an hour ago. Whatever was in the pasta had kept her sick for the entire day it took them to get here. At this point, she would give half the credits she owned simply to shake the nasty nausea preventing her from eating.

She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Boone was gently shaking her awake. “We’re here.”

“Fan-freaking-tastic.” Hells, she couldn’t even work up the energy to verbally spar with him anymore. As soon as she recovered, she was going to kill that damn Evarven. “Get me off this boat.”

Ignoring his offered hand, she stumbled down the hall and to the hatch. Gee saw her coming and scrambled out of the way. Good thing, too, because she would have stabbed him if he got within reach…or maybe she would have just puked on his feet.

This was terrible, and not just because she could barely think straight. The nausea hadn’t stopped and it was everything she could do just to put one foot in front of the other. And now she had to climb down a freaking ladder like some kind of monkey because this ship was such a piece of crap it didn’t have a ramp.

The wind whipped straight through her clothes as Ophelia descended the ladder, making her wish for a coat. As if reading her mind, Boone slid down the ladder and tossed her one. “It’s cold on-planet this time of year.”

Ophelia resisted the urge to throw the damn thing on the ground and stomp on it. Instead, she slipped the jacket on, reveling in the new warmth spreading through her body, and tried not to let the gesture warm her insides as well. She was his captive. End of story. “So what now?”

Boone didn’t look up from buttoning his own coat. “What do you mean?”

Why did he bother to play stupid? Ophelia’s fingers itched for a weapon. “What are you going to do with me now? Ransom? Torture? Murder?”

Boone’s eyes flashed. “I already told you I won’t hurt you.”

“Talk is cheap. What’s the plan?” She didn’t know why she bothered. He wouldn’t tell her anything. Ever since he’d found her puking he hadn’t been around, and when he was, Boone was crankier than her.

He looked down at his wrist unit as if he expected it to do something. “We have to get a hotel for the night. Try not to kill anyone.”

Ophelia clenched her jaw.

His lips canted upward. “That’s not good for your teeth. Come on.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her out of the shipyard and into the main part of town. The buildings were wooden, probably made from the skeleton-like trees Ophelia could just see on the hill overlooking town, and most were painted cheery colors that made her think of home. Ophelia never thought she’d miss Keiluna as much as when she saw a house painted the same pale blue as her parents’ front door.

They passed restaurants with smells so strong she had to press her hand over her nose and breathe through her mouth to keep from being sick. What in the seven hells were they cooking in there?

She looked over in time to catch Boone watching her. “What are you looking at?”

“Are you okay?”

If he never asked her that again, it would be too soon. “I’m not going to die and make you miss out on a handsome payment.”

Boone picked up his pace until he was dragging her along. They nearly bowled over a young couple, but he jerked her out of the way in time. He turned left, causing Ophelia to trip over her feet in an effort to keep up. “Where’s the fire?”

A large building painted a deep burgundy was their destination. Boone pulled her inside, nodded at the old woman behind the front desk, and hauled her upstairs. By the time he shoved her through a door and followed her into the room, she had passed confused and was heading straight for royally pissed.

“Let me go.” She hissed and jerked her elbow free.

He turned and she scrambled backward to keep a decent distance between them. Boone stared at her a long moment before he spoke. “Have I done anything to make you fear for you safety?”

His sudden calm was almost as worrisome as the irritation he’d shown not two minutes before. Ophelia waited for him to elaborate but apparently he had no intention of being rational. With great effort, she reined in her annoyance. The answer to his question required no thought. He’d bullied her, locked her up, and made her head spin with a kiss, but throughout it all Ophelia had never once been afraid he’d actually hurt her. “No.”

Boone walked toward her until he was so close, it would have been more natural for them to touch. She could feel the heat coming off his body in waves and the exotic scent that was pure Boone wrapped around her until she felt woozy. Of course
this
scent would be the single one that didn’t make her sick. How could one man smell so damn tempting?

“Ophelia.”

Her gaze rose from his chest slowly, oh so slowly, until she was looking directly into those gray eyes. This time they were anything but icy—in fact, she was pretty sure they were going to burn her up. She licked her lips and his gaze tracked the movement. “What?”

“I would never hurt you.”

Ophelia blinked. What were they talking about? “I don’t— What?”

There was that flash of hurt again, the one she’d been sure she was hallucinating. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure. How was it that every time she turned around, she was saying something that apparently hurt him? He turned away, leaving her feeling curiously bereft, and strode over to the InstaChef. A few flicks of his fingers and the machine deposited a steaming cup. “My first mate says this helps calm the stomach.” Boone held it out, not meeting her eyes.

She took the offered cup and sniffed it. When the smell didn’t make her stomach lurch, she took a tentative sip. It tasted divine, an odd combination of mint and rosemary. She took a drink and closed her eyes as her stomach settled. “Thank you.”

“Ophelia.”

The moment stretched out and Ophelia felt as if she were balanced on the edge of a blade, teetering between two unknowns, not sure which way she was going to fall. Opening her eyes, she stared down at the mug in her hands. “Yes?”

“Do you trust me?”

Meeting his gaze was harder than it should have been. Looking into those oh-so-serious gray eyes nearly did her in. It would have been so easy to lie, to make this moment last, but she couldn’t do it. Would he hurt her? No, she didn’t think so. But could she trust that he’d look out for her best interests? Again, no. “No.”

Boone’s face darkened, the rage in his eyes making her flinch. And then he was gone, backing away before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. The door slammed and the lock clicked shut with a finality that set her teeth on edge. What in the seven hells just happened?

…

Godsdamned Diviners and their godsdamned trust issues.

Boone stormed out of the hotel. While he’d been inside, the dinner crowds had come out in force. There weren’t all that many people compared to the huge population on Keiluna, but the narrow streets and inward-tilting buildings gave the planet a claustrophobic feeling. It made sense for them to create windbreaks—not that it stopped the chill from burrowing its way inside his coat—but the inability to see farther than the next block made him edgy. Combined with the overlapping smells of fresh bread, stew, and human sweat, and it was nearly too much for him. Or perhaps it was only homesickness making him snarly.

Homesickness and a godsdamned woman who was too stubborn for her own good.

It didn’t matter if they wore the brilliant colors of a successful trader or the more serviceable clothing of people who used good, honest work to make a living—people got out of his way quickly enough once they saw him coming. There weren’t many aliens, just a group of Bolkerians farther down the street, but they were still a welcome relief after the unwavering humanity of Keiluna.

He almost went back to the ship, but the thought of dealing with Gee’s snide comments was too much. Boone turned right at the next intersection and headed into the tavern he frequented when he was on-planet. Inside was so cramped and smoky he couldn’t make out the far side of the room. He shouldered his way through the patrons and slid into a gap near the bar.

The tiny bartender caught his eye and grinned, revealing cracked and stained teeth. “Hallo, Cap’n.”

“Jacks.”

“What’ll you be having this lovely night?” Jacks slid two drinks down the bar and filled another two without a pause. “Keiluna brew?”

Boone shook his head. As if he needed more reminder of the hellcat. “The house special.”

Jacks grinned again. “Been one of those days, Cap’n?”

“Something like that.” Within seconds a gigantic mug filled to the brim with clear liquid was placed in front of him. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“You do that.” Boone turned around and leaned against the bar, taking in the room. The place was filled—mostly human men and a scattering of green and blue Nitriphese women, their tall, delicate forms drifting from table to table, looking for patrons willing to spend a handful of credits for a few hours of their time. While serviceable, their grasp of the bedroom arts was a far cry from the ones who made their home on the legendary Sisilean.

The casual display of gambling and prostitution would have set someone from the more prudish worlds over the edge, but Boone liked it here. There were no pretensions—what you saw was what you got. It was relief for someone used to the political machinations of Hansarda.

“So, handsome, you come here often?”

He was already grinning when he looked over, some of his bad mood melting away. “What are you doing so far from trouble?”

Sadie was as beautiful as he remembered, her pale coloring completely at odds with dark eyes that could haunt a man’s dreams for years. “Just drifting through. Had a run with some colonists.” She shrugged her frail-looking shoulders. “You know, doing the Good Samaritan bit.”

“Is that so?” As one of the fabled Abura-Sumashi, Sadie was far more dangerous than her fragile looks indicated. Over the last few years, they’d met up from time to time for transport missions that required extra guns. She might not look terrifying when standing next to one of the males of her species, but Boone had seen her take hit after hit and keep on coming when a human would have passed out cold from the same blood loss. She was the kind of mercenary Ophelia’s father accused him of being.

And, just like that, Boone’s nasty mood was back. “You’re not really the giving type.”

“Yeah, well, I might have been looking for you too.”

Which meant trouble. “Looking for a good time?” Boone forced himself to keep grinning, his eyes scanning the room again, picking out men who might be a problem. His hand drifted to where his jacket hid the laser tucked into its belt holster.

Sadie’s gaze flicked down, not missing a beat. Her smile widened, never reaching those fathomless eyes. “Something like that. You want to take this somewhere more…private?”

Despite mutual interest, they’d never taken their relationship beyond flirting. Tonight wouldn’t be the night that boundary was crossed. Sadie never came on so strong, which meant there really was something wrong. Or she had a proposition for him she didn’t want anyone else to witness. “You’re not even going to buy me a drink first?”

Without missing a beat, she leaned over the counter, signaled Jacks, and dropped several credits on the bar.

Jacks raised his brows. “Have a nice night, Cap’n.”

Sadie sidled closer and slipped her arms around Boone’s waist. “Come on, handsome. Let’s make waves.” Since she didn’t like to be touched, this only served to raise more red flags. Something was seriously amiss.

They strolled down the street, arm in arm. By the time they stumbled into the hotel, Sadie was leaning close and whispering space-travel equations in a husky, bedroom voice. Boone let his hand drift south until he had a good grip on her ass. It was too small, too bony, too damn fragile, just like the rest of Sadie. Unlike a certain hellcat’s…

They got an odd look from the elderly receptionist, probably because only an hour ago he’d come in dragging a different woman behind him. It was only once they were safely behind the closed door of his room that Sadie gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and backed up.

But apparently not fast enough.

…

That jackass had brought a woman back to the room. Ophelia listened to them laugh, her vision bleeding red. She would kill him—she would kill both of them. The small part of her mind that was still rational whispered that since she had no intention of screwing him, there should be no problem with him dipping somewhere else.

The rest of her told it to shut the hells up.

Ophelia smoothed her hair back, knowing she looked just as sick as she felt, the soup she ate after Boone left not sitting well. Taking a sip of her new tea, she sauntered into the adjoining room. Boone and a little albino were sitting on opposite couches—which was good because she might have gone straight for the bitch’s throat if she had those bony hands down his pants. Boone startled when he saw her. “Ophelia.”

“Down, lover.” Oh hells. She hadn’t meant to say that. Ophelia skirted the table and sat next to the woman. She wasn’t a true albino, her eyes black instead of pink, but the rest of her coloring could have passed. Making an effort to not show the depth of her anger, Ophelia said, “And who the fuck are you?”

Crap. So much for that.

The woman’s smile took on a catty edge, and Ophelia wanted to smack the shit out of her right then and there. But doing so would mean she really cared that Boone brought this whore back. And she didn’t. Or she did, but not because she was interested in him—she cared because it was a Ladydamned insult.

The albino turned to Boone, her voice high and girlish. “Oh, Boone, you didn’t tell me you’d picked up a pet. Can we play with her?”