Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (27 page)

Knowing his suit couldn’t take much more damage, he yelled and charged at the pirates. He bathed the corridor in flames, trying to catch the walls on fire, even if he couldn’t bake the men. A yell came from one of the helmets. Marat had no idea if the fire had hurt the man, or if one of his comrades had stepped on his foot, but he would take any victory.

An unexpected shudder wracked the ship, and he faltered.

“Now what?” Marat groaned, envisioning some damage that Striker’s grenade might have done to the exterior of the ship. Maybe the explosion had not only knocked out the airlock tube but had been powerful enough to impact the docking clamps too. He imagined the ship bumping into the side of the station before Wolf’s pilot woke up and realized they had been set adrift.

Striker didn’t answer. He was too busy backing up. “Incoming,” he barked.

Marat continued to spray flames at the men in the corridor, but he didn’t know what else to do. More armored pirates had gathered at the corner, and several rifles and pistols were pointed in his direction.

Striker threw a grenade toward them, something different this time. Blue smoke exploded from it, and Marat’s flames ignited. The air turned into an orange inferno around the pirates.

An alarm blared, the fire alarm. Marat would have laughed if there had been time. But an explosion roared behind him. The shockwave slammed into the back of his suit so hard that it knocked his forehead against the faceplate. He was hurled into the wall, and blackness encroached on his vision. He felt himself falling but could do nothing to catch himself. His last thought was to wish he had said goodbye to Ying. It was too late now.

As soon as the cuffs fell to the floor, Ying strode to the terrarium. She squinted at the spider, checking the markings on its back up close to make sure she had identified it correctly. The big arachnid reared back and hissed at her.

“I see you’re as friendly as your captain,” she muttered, rethinking what she had told Marat about spiders being lucky. “Hope you’re not attached to your master.”

She dug through the drawers, hunting for any useful implements she could use to extract the venom. Normally, she would have to sedate a spider and remove the part of the creature that contained the venom glands, but the web-slinger was so large, she thought she could milk it like a snake. Alas, she could not trust the creature to bite the right person if she simply laid it on the bed.

“Come on,” she muttered, abandoning the dresser and hunting in a closet. Running footsteps sounded in the corridor, and Ying worried that Wolf would return before she had time to do anything.

As she rooted through clothing and a pile of weapons so bizarre and exotic that she couldn’t name them, she worried she wouldn’t find anything useful. She did grab one of the small daggers. If nothing else, she might get a chance to jab it into him.

She paused as a new thought came to her. Since Wolf liked his sex rough, he might keep a medical kit in his lavatory, if only because he could receive wounds he would be embarrassed to show to his doctor. That might have a few useful tools.

More footsteps charged past in the corridor. Something was definitely going on. It occurred to her that she hadn’t checked to make sure the door was locked. Even if it was, maybe she could find a way to override it and escape. But she didn’t want to simply
escape
. More than ever, she wanted to kill that man.

She ducked into the lavatory to look for the medical kit. But when she poked through the drawers in there, she did not find one. Desperate, she grabbed a drinking glass by the sink. It was a clunky tool for the job, but she ran back to the terrarium. She almost snatched up the spider and started right away, but she didn’t need to paralyze
herself
. She pulled out a thin shirt and wrapped it around her hand, making as much of a protective barrier as she could without losing her ability to grab the creature. She pushed the lid off the terrarium and lowered the glass, so the spider would have something besides her hand to look at. She grabbed the hairy carapace from behind. It hissed at her again. She lowered it to the glass, trying to get it to bite the rim. It latched on with alarming vigor. She would
not
want this beast biting her.

“This would be easier if you were a snake,” she muttered, chagrined by how little venom appeared on the rim. “I don’t suppose you could ooze that stuff out more vigorously?”

Usually, spider eyes weren’t the most expressive things, but these beady black ones managed to seethe with loathing. Maybe Wolf kept it hungry so it would be irate with his slaves when he wanted it to be.

A clank came from the corridor, and the outer door opened. Cursing to herself, Ying dropped the spider. There was no time to put the lid back on the terrarium. All she could do was grab the glass and the dagger, then lunge for the pole she had been tied to. She just managed to kick the flex-cuffs under the drape of the bedspread and put her back to the pole before Wolf appeared in the doorway to the bedroom.

He scowled at her as he strode for the closet. Ying turned so he wouldn’t see that she was no longer bound. At the same time, she slid the edge of the dagger along the top of the glass. Without being able to see what she was doing, it would be sheer luck if she managed to smear the venom on the blade without cutting herself.

“No time for fun.” Wolf pulled out a case of combat armor along with two heavy assault rifles. “Your mercenary boyfriend is here. I don’t know how much you promised to get Mandrake Company involved with your little scheme, but their pathetic grunts won’t live to see their payday.” He snarled at her, lashing out with his free hand as he headed back for the door.

It was a half-hearted attack, and Ying ducked it. He would have kept going, but she threw the glass at the floor in front of his feet. Unfortunately, it was glastica and didn’t shatter as the real thing would have. It
did
cause him to glance down, and that was all Ying needed.

She had no idea if she had managed to smear any of the venom on the dagger, but the weapon could kill him by itself. She pushed off the top of the bed and sprang. He dropped his case and started to turn toward her, but she landed on his back first, locking her legs around him and wrapping one arm around his neck. She jabbed the dagger downward, aiming for his jugular.

He whipped his arm up. Her blade jammed into flesh, as she’d hoped, but his forearm instead of his throat. Before she had the satisfaction of seeing blood, his powerful hand tore her away from him. She lost her grip with her legs and fell, slamming against his case of armor.

When she hit the floor, she rolled away, trying to put space between them. A good thing because he stomped down hard enough that he would have crushed ribs if she had been there. Ying jumped to her feet, holding the dagger in front of her, as if it would be enough to shield her from his wrath. He grabbed one of his rifles, and she froze. Would he simply shoot her? After all of his plans to torment her?

He paused, the weapon pointed at her chest. Maybe he was wondering the same question.

Ying thought about hurling the knife at him, but he could shoot her in an instant, much more quickly than she could raise the blade to throw.

An indistinguishable shout came from the corridor outside. The floor shuddered. No, the entire
ship
shuddered.

“Now what?” Wolf growled. His voice slurred.

Hope rose in Ying’s breast. The venom. Had enough slipped into his blood to affect him?

He snarled again, his finger flexing on the trigger. He fired and turned toward the door, or at least that was what it looked like he meant to do. His finger moved slowly, and Ying had time to drop to the floor before the laser beam scorched the air where she had been. Wolf grew tangled in his own feet and toppled, smashing against the corner of his armor case before landing in an ungainly pile.

When her opportunity came, Ying did not hesitate. She leaped onto him and drove the dagger into the back of his neck.

• • • • •

When awareness returned, Marat realized two things. First, that he was flat on his back with the fire alarm still blaring. Second, that he couldn’t move, because a very heavy combat boot stood on his chest.

The owner could have crushed him, but he was merely standing there, as if he were claiming Marat as he gazed across some newly discovered terrain, a massive wide-barreled rifle in his arms. The armored figure wore a helmet, so Marat couldn’t have identified the occupant even if the figure had been looking down. Was it one of Wolf’s men? That gray armor looked similar to what Mandrake Company used in space battles. But how could the mercenaries have gotten in with the airlock tube blown? They would have had to send over one of the combat shuttles with the capability to cut a hole in the hull for boarding. A new jolt of alarm went through Marat as he realized that alarm might be wailing about more than fire, if the ship had been breached and was losing its atmosphere.

From his back, Marat couldn’t see much of the corridor, but in his peripheral vision, he
could
see that several bodies lay on the ground all around him. There were more than the two that he had taken down at the beginning. The rest were armored, their suits blasted open by some heavy anti-armor weapons.

Aside from the alarm, the corridor wasn’t nearly as chaotic and noisy as it had been earlier. In fact, if he focused, Marat could hear voices.

“...wasn’t my idea, Captain,” Striker said from somewhere nearby.

Marat’s first thought was that he was talking to Captain Wolf, but the figure atop him looked down.

“Oh, I am fully aware that Azarov is the mastermind here,” Captain Mandrake said, his voice cold.

The chill and the disappointment in that voice made Marat wish he had woken up chained in some pirate torture chamber. Mastermind. More like master idiot. And Mandrake knew that fully well.

Heavy footsteps came from somewhere behind Marat’s head. “Corridor’s secure, sir. We’re still looking for Wolf.”

“Understood, Hazel. Take alpha squad and secure the bridge. Bravo squad, secure engineering.” Mandrake removed his boot from Marat’s chest. Before Marat could feel any relief, Mandrake reached down and grabbed him by the front of his suit. He hauled Marat up, not bothered by his weight or the extra hundred-odd pounds the suit gave him. “I’ll take my fire-flinging heroes to the crew quarters,” Mandrake finished, spinning Marat around none-to-gently.

“Yes, sir,” several figures in combat armor said, then disappeared around the corner, weapons at the ready.

Now that Marat was standing and had a view of the corridor, the carnage amazed him. The deck was a tangle of charred armor and warped paneling that had been blown off the walls and ceiling. Pockmarks dotted the walls and deck underneath the dead men. For his sake and Striker’s, Marat hoped the company hadn’t lost anyone. Mandrake was rightfully pissed, but if he had gained a ship and killed a nemesis, might he be more lenient with his punishment?

Of course, they hadn’t killed Wolf yet, had they? He could still be somewhere, tormenting Ying.

With these grim thoughts in mind, Marat needed no urging to march off in the direction the captain pushed him.

Another shudder coursed through the ship.

“The cavalry is a bit overeager, isn’t it?” Striker asked, ambling along beside Marat, still toting his flamethrower. Judging by the broken and blackened walls, it had seen much use.

“Frog is at the weapons,” Mandrake said, then tapped his comm-patch. “Frog, we’ve got the ship. Cool your blasters.”

“Yes, Cap’n.” Frog sounded disappointed.

“Frog blasting things around a space station,” Striker said. “That’s reckless, isn’t it?”

“Says the man toting fifty million grenades and a flamethrower around,” came another voice from behind the captain. Marat recognized Sergeant Tick’s backwoods drawl. He wondered how much of the company Mandrake had committed to this... this rescue. He couldn’t call it anything else. He and Striker had nearly gotten themselves killed.

“Anyone know where crew quarters are?” Mandrake asked when they came to an intersection.

“This way, sir,” Marat said. “I served on one of these ships before.”

Mandrake did not answer him. Marat hoped it was only in his imagination that the captain’s hard green eyes were boring into the back of his head like asteroid mining drills.

As they approached the officers’ cabins, Marat realized he had lost his pistol in the chaos. Oh, well. If he found Ying chained to the bed or worse, he could break Wolf’s neck with his bare hands.

When he reached the captain’s cabin, he expected it to be locked, but the door slid open for him. He strode into an outer room and immediately turned toward the bedroom. As he entered, he almost stepped on a man’s head. Wolf. There was a dagger sticking out of the back of his neck.

He tore his gaze from the dead man and jumped at the sight of a huge spider squatting in a terrarium without a lid, but before he could grow too upset by that, he spotted Ying standing against the far wall with her arms folded across her chest, a pistol in her grip. She was naked, blood smearing her chest and bruises on her arms and shoulders. Her eye was bruised, too, her lip cut and swollen, and he worried about internal injuries, as well.

With a lump swelling in his throat, he stepped around Wolf, lifting an arm toward her, imagining her tumbling into his embrace.

“Took you long enough,” Ying snapped, tapping one bare foot and eyeing his arm like it was a viper.

Belatedly, it occurred to him that after she had endured Wolf’s mauling, she might not be in the mood to be hugged by a man. Or anyone.

“Sorry,” he said. “My plan didn’t go as I had imagined it.”

Ying sighed and lowered her arms. “Mine, either.” Some of the edge faded from her voice.

“Oh? I thought this was what you had envisioned.”

“Not exactly, but it will do,” she said firmly, no hint of regret for sticking a dagger in someone’s neck. Not that Marat would have regretted ending Wolf’s life, either.

“This the cook?” Mandrake asked from the doorway, and Marat remembered that they weren’t alone. In addition to the captain, Striker, Tick, and several other armored men crowded the outer room.