Redemption Protocol (Contact) (33 page)

3. Medical has a
fabricated treatment procedure
prepared if required for a surface rendezvous.

4. Fabricated treatment procedure may provide other opportunities including
Eaton Mess
.

 53. 

Hwan looked up in terror at the man's silhouette looming over her.

>Hwan> Are you alright?

> Mr Darkwood?

> Lucius, please, Violette. Are you alright?

Thank heaven, Hwan thought, breathing again. Relief washed over her. She felt so much better with someone else here. She grasped Darkwood's hand and established point comms.

> I think Tyburn was communicating from the military shuttle. I have the readings. I think there are two of them.

> What?

> We need to get out of here. I was trying to get to the emergency transfer lock.

> Are you sure? Shouldn't we talk to them?

> It might not be safe. I think they're spies. Maybe. I don't know.

> Violette, it's my ship. I can communicate through the lock down.

It occurred to Hwan that Darkwood would be extremely capable. He could probably handle two adversaries alone and unaided. And he could communicate with the others.

> Can you alert the others?

> I’ve already done it. Havoc and Karch are on their way here now.

Hwan sighed. She was safe. She felt her breathing return to normal. Twice in one day, it was ridiculous. Cruel, even.

> Should we hide until they get here?

> You can, Violette. I want to see what these men have to say for themselves.

She admired him. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He was quite courageous, actually.

Darkwood stepped past her and out into the dim corner of the hangar.

“You there! Tyburn, is it? What the hell is going on here?”

 54. 

Havoc didn't know what Stephanie wanted, but for her to want to play tennis rather than her usual solitary running he was sure it was more than whacking a few balls around. He wouldn't let anything happen between them, of course, he wasn't interested in going down that road again.

Unlike the poor princes, who were completely smitten. Tomas and Charles were finishing a fencing session when he and Stephanie walked in. Tomas nearly took a rapier through the throat when Stephanie walked past in her little tennis outfit. Havoc remembered a similar effect on him as a younger man, before his defenses had matured.

They started the match. Stephanie tweaked her shoulder early in the first set. She strolled over and asked him to give it a quick massage, turning and lifting her hair out of the way. He braced himself as he kneaded her shoulder and neck, but she just walked away from him. She stood on her toes as she stretched her arms back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

She walked back round to the other sim. Havoc was left with the smell of her perfume and the feeling of her supple muscles in his hands. They resumed play, talking as they went.

Stephanie’s career was going well and she loved being a part of Abbott's team. He suspected she loved the status, but to his surprise she listed several trade agreements, healthcare initiatives and other activities that, as she'd said all those years ago, 'could make a real difference.'

After she took the first set, she came over and asked if he could re-loosen her shoulder. He went to work on her neck and shoulders as she knelt in front of him. She talked as she faced away from him in her short skirt, her long blonde hair swept over to one side, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. He worked the knots in the muscles of her shoulder blades, then moved his hands round to release the tightness in her shoulders. She gave little murmurs of appreciation and he felt a hint of temptation. Only natural really, he thought. Before he had time to think about it she jumped up and moved away.

She turned to face him and stretched her arms back. He couldn't help but drink in her figure, her breasts straining against her top. She stretched her long legs against the wall then toyed with her hair as she talked to him. He felt a rising physical curiosity, then she was gone again.

Set two.

After her pride was salvaged taking set two, she came back over. She sat on the floor, one knee raised and the other leg straight, leaning back on her hands with her skirt falling provocatively across her thighs. After chatting briefly, she jumped round behind him.

“I owe you a back massage.”

Her firm touch felt good on his neck and shoulders. He began talking about the work, the commercial operators, and then found himself drifting into the backstabbing, the criminals, the bounty hunters and the dark world he operated in. He was sharing things he hadn't shared with anyone. It was food for his soul, to be accepted for who he was without judgment.

She leaned into him, her hair falling down the side of his face as she worked across his back. Then she stood up and circled round to his front. She knelt down with her thighs straddling him, her eyes focused on his traps as she worked them with her hands. He watched her face. She bit her lip in concentration as she worked her fingers and thumbs deep into his muscles. He could feel his curiosity turning to temptation as he looked down at her toned body. Her thighs pressed warmly against him. She rocked forward and back as she straddled him, swaying as she pressed into his muscles. He looked down at her, then sideways, then back to her face. She moved out to his shoulders, then moved inward, working his neck muscles from the front. She stared at him as she did it, her hair falling across her face, her gaze locked on his as she rocked forward and backward, kneading him. He grew hard. She was straddling his lap and brushing against him with every movement. She couldn't not know.

She jumped up. He took a quick breath, trying to center himself and get back under control. She picked up her racket and jogged back through. They played a final set. He lost. Something about his concentration.

She walked ahead of him into the shower room after the game. She stopped and leaned back into him as they passed through the door.

“Rub my shoulders again, would you?”

Her top was open, revealing her cleavage, streaked with sweat. He took her shoulders in his hands. Her skin was hot and damp.

“Mmm, John, that’s good.”

She leaned into him, murmuring in appreciation as he rubbed her shoulders. He grew hard again. She kicked off her shoes as she moaned and arched her body back into him, her butt pressing into his groin. He felt his appetite spiral. He raised his hands to grab hold of her but she walked forward, pulling off her crop top and throwing it to one side. She uncinched her skirt and it dropped to the floor. She stood in front of him, facing away from him and wearing only a thong. She stepped out of the thong and flicked it away. She turned sideways and stretched her hands above her head, naked. He felt himself moving toward her, ready to feed. She grabbed a towel and stepped into the shower cubicle. A moment later, steam emerged. He stalled.

He took a deep breath, trying to find equilibrium. He felt light headed. He could see her silhouette curving in the jet of hot water like a cat stretching in morning sunlight. His primeval instincts threatened to consume him.

He raised his voice over the jet of water.

“Shall I head back up?”

“Just a minute.”

He resolved to leave.

“You want me to wait?”

She kicked open the stall. Her long leg wrapped around the door, water beading on her bare skin.

“Are you going to keep a girl waiting forever...?”

He fell on her like a lion on a gazelle.

 55. 

Hwan peered out from between the racks, watching Tyburn approach Darkwood. Tyburn circled sideways and stopped some distance from the industrialist. Ekker approached warily from the other side. Hwan thought they both looked a bit scared of Darkwood. Tyburn spread his hands out in front of him with his palms facing down.

“Now, now, Darkwood. Nothing to get concerned about.”

Darkwood gestured back toward Hwan.

“You seem to have Violette here quite concerned.”

Tyburn laughed disarmingly.

“She gave us a hell of a fright. We thought she might be the enemy agent.”

Hwan felt startled by this suggestion. She stepped forward, out of the racks.

“But that's what I thought about you.”

Darkwood frowned.

“The others are on their way here.”

Tyburn nodded.

“Good, good.”

Tyburn and Ekker’s body language relaxed. They both walked forward and stopped a more sociable distance from Darkwood. Tyburn looked over at Hwan and smiled.

“What were you doing in here?”

Hwan held up the scanner.

“I was searching for relay transmitters for Jafari.”

Tyburn nodded at the device.

“Ah. So that's what that is.”

Hwan nodded as she took a step forward. Tyburn chuckled ruefully.

“We thought it was a bomb.”

Darkwood gestured toward the main entrance.

“The others will be here in a minute.”

Tyburn smiled at Hwan.

“I guess you couldn't get in touch with anyone else?”

Hwan shook her head as she walked forward to join them.

“No, I just panicked.”

They were all stood together now, in a circle. Hwan looked quizzically at Tyburn.

“What were you doing?”

“We were testing some of the mil-kit. We'd just got into the comms and intercept suite when we saw our would-be terrorist approaching.”

Hwan smiled. It was a simple misunderstanding.

“We’re all so paranoid.”

Tyburn nodded as he patted her arm companionably.

“I think you took a year off my life.”

Hwan smiled at him, then frowned. What he'd said about testing the mil-kit didn't make any sense.

Ekker pinned her arms by her sides before she could react. Tyburn’s hand swept over her shoulder and onto her neck. His other hand joined it there. He caressed her larynx with his thumbs.

Hwan blinked, confused and terrified. She could barely muster a whisper.

“What are you doing?”

Tyburn’s expression turned regretful.

“Wrong place at the wrong time, I'm afraid, Violette.”

Hwan’s eyes widened as her heart went into overdrive. Darkwood took a step back.

“I can't watch this.”

Tyburn sneered, though his eyes didn’t leave Hwan’s.

“Businessmen.”

Hwan felt horrified as Darkwood backed away.

“Please don't go, Mr Darkwood.”

Darkwood looked apologetic as he turned on his heel and walked away. Ekker spat in the direction of Darkwood's retreating back.

“Pussy.”

Hwan couldn’t believe Darkwood would leave her. Tyburn’s hands shifted position on her neck. She cried after Darkwood as he faded in the shadows.

“Mr Darkwood, please!”

There was no answer. Darkwood was gone. Tyburn stared at her with big round eyes.

“Violette, I want you to listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

Hwan’s eyes were locked onto Tyburn’s. They were hypnotic.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Tyburn smiled pitilessly.

“I don't want to hurt you, Violette. I'm going to set you free.” Tyburn glanced past her. “If you wouldn’t mind, Ekker.”

Hwan cried out as Ekker stabbed her side. His incision was clinical, almost medical. The pain pierced through her abdomen as gas hissed out of her reservoir. She tried to break free but they held her firmly.

Tyburn watched her with a sympathetic expression.

“Don’t move now, Violette, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Hwan gave an involuntary squeal that was cut off as Tyburn squeezed her throat. She stared at him, her eyes wild with fear. Her throat was completely obstructed. The pressure was crushing. She couldn't breathe. Her body rebelled.

She twisted her shoulders but Ekker pulled her tightly against his body; she could feel his dick pressing against her. She tried to wrench out of Ekker’s grasp but she was caught in a vice. Her body spasmed as she fought for oxygen. She wanted to kick out but Tyburn’s boot pressed down on her feet. She was completely immobile. Her eyes darted around, the only part of her that could move. She desperately hoped for someone to come and save her.

Tyburn stared into her eyes. She tried to suck air into her throat. Her lungs burned. She writhed and twisted, unmoving. Her lungs screamed for oxygen. She sucked but nothing would come. Panic took her at a gallop. She could die here. She tried to twist her shoulders again. Nothing happened. Her lungs were on fire. Her gaze returned to Tyburn, her eyes pleading with him. Tyburn watched her, unblinking.