Silver Tongued Devils (12 page)

“Got what we came for, gentlemen,”
Raesa chimed in quietly through his earpiece, giving him sharp
relief.

“Right now I’ve got two crews waiting
to ambush their operation. A smart man would take a cut,” he said,
putting his new plan into motion. Time to get off this godforsaken
rock and back to his woman.

Foreman Yates dropped the weapon away
from Na’varr. A split second later, all hell broke
loose.

Brom kept his breathing slow and
steady. He eyed the target trained on Na’varr and caressed the
trigger of his rifle. His captain was taking his bullshitting too
far.

The moment Yates, the double-crossing
bastard, dropped the barrel of the bone grinder, Brom took the
shot. The hybrid barely noticed the butt kick back into his
shoulder. The fine scent of gunpowder and hot metal laced his nose.
The bullet tore into the exposed tubes of the exoskeleton’s
shoulder. Fluid sprayed in an arc and the arm groaned and
dropped.

He ignored the ache from the recoil
and moved to the next target. Foreman Yates’s head.

Before he could shoot, Na’varr took
off running.

“Fuck,” Brom cursed softly and
struggled to keep Yate’s, who chased after the captain, moving form
in his sights. His sniping skills were growing rusty. They were
getting too lax all the way around.

The foreman’s shiny melon came into
view. “Give the word.”

“No killing if we can avoid it. We can
use Raesa’s information against him.” Authority snapped in the
Na’varr’s command. Brom growled but complied. He was the
captain.

The two men ran across the barren,
blood stained ring. Na’varr jumped head first over a pipe and
rolled into a crouch. Hot on his heels, Yates reached for him. The
cyborg missed and instead punched a hole through ten inches of
reinforced steel pipe. A painfully rare metal out in these
parts.

“Unbelievable. This guy is wrecking
his own shit.” Na’varr sounded rattled.

Brom fought back a smile and shook his
head. Na’varr was rarely ruffled, but when his captain got his
panties twisted in a bunch, it amused Brom to no end.

“He’s never been the sharpest tool in
the workshop, captain.” Brom focused on taking out Foreman’s range
of motion. “I can’t kill him. Can I maim?”

“Take out his mobility.”

Brom wondered where the ruthless
Na’varr had gone. If he didn’t kill this bastard now, it was likely
he’d show up later to fuck up their world—would endanger Raesa, the
woman they both had fallen in love with. Clenching his jaw, he
zeroed in on the hydropod connectors on the legs of the big ass
mining machine. That exoskeleton was a pain in the ass. If Brom
missed, the cyborg bastard would be out one knee. It was probably
all machine anyway. He smiled wider. Maiming didn’t apply to
machine parts. Taking out his knee might not be a bad
idea.

“Can you take out his hydraulics?”
Na’varr asked.

“Already on it. Make him turn to the
left.”

Yates ripped the pipe apart with the
machine’s pincers. Na’varr raced under the foreman’s body. The man
moved in a jerky response, turning and swinging, exposing the leg
connectors. Brom squeezed the trigger. By now he was used to the
recoil of the rifle. The first hydro line exploded. He adjusted his
sights for the other leg. The second shot nicked the line, spraying
viscous fluid out in a golden arc.

Shots ricocheted around Brom and he
crawled back from his position, dragging the rifle with
him.

The shouts rising from below told him
that he had limited time to get to a new cover zone. He moved
quickly, without thought, breaking down the different components of
his rifle: scope, butt, barrel, clip. He packed it away with
efficiency, and zipped up his case. He ran the strap across his
chest and settled the equipment against his spine.

“Time to fly, kids.” Brom raced along
the building’s roof and launched across the gap to the next
building. He hated leaving Na’varr and Raesa exposed.

“The bastard’s up here.” They were
still going after his original position.

Brom grinned and pulled two flash
bangs from his belt. He yanked out the pins and tossed them over
the side. Several bellows followed and he leapt to a rickety tower
ladder. He caught his balance and then dropped, landing silently on
the balls of his feet.

He took a split second to eye the
office Raesa had taken over. Shadows moved in the room and a slice
of fear cut through his heart. “Raesa, that sweet little ass of
yours had better be moving.”

“On my way.” Her quiet tone told him
she was skirting past security the same way she’d snuck in. “Get
the ship ready.”

It was his job to ready their way out,
and hers to release the dome security. Na’varr’s to keep the
foreman busy. This plan sucked more and more. Brom raced through
the compound while keeping to the shadows. What felt like eternity
was likely only a few minutes. He jumped on the back of a hover
bike and broke the lock.

“Still alive, boss?” Brom asked and
turned on the machine. The motor revved to life with a thunderous
roar, almost drowning out the sound of his captain’s
response.

“Get to the ship. We’ll need a quick
evac.”

Brom put on his goggles. In seconds he
connected his oxygen breather and covered the rest of his face with
his cloth mask to keep the dust at bay. With desperation riding his
ass, he raced across the barren landscape to their ship’s
location.

***

A piercing alarm blared through the
speakers and people scrambled for cover.

Attention. Attention. The
dome will open in less than five minutes. Seek shelter or don your
breathing apparatus.

The foreman’s face paled and then
flushed angry red. “You bastards. You wouldn’t dare kill off these
good folk just earning a living.”

Good folk, my ass.
They’d been screaming for Na’varr’s
blood.

The cyborg’s armored exoskeleton
shuddered and teetered forward. Yates bellowed his anger but the
thing toppled over, crashing against the tarmac and sending up
puffs of ice dust.

“I’m pirate scum, remember?” His skin
crawled with the bluff he’d thrown at Yates. The giant cyborg had
no idea they were in a limited crew. A crew he was desperately
missing the hell out of.

He had to trust Brom to get the ship
to them.

Na’varr jumped up on the exoskeleton
and tore open the face shield. His side screamed in agony, but his
anger pushed him through it. A quick inspection told him that Yates
was trapped in the wreckage.

“You’re dead meat, pirate
scum.”

“I hardly think an Andovian
sympathizer should call others scum. How much did they pay you to
turn the other way while they took ore out from under your
nose?”

“I don’t work for nobody but
myself.”

He leaned close to the bastard’s face.
Yates had one eye glaring at him while the other twitched and
dilated. “I’ve got everything on your operation, Foreman. We could
have played nice, but you had to go and do something stupid. What
were you going to do, deliver my dead body to the
Andovians?”

Foreman spat and glared at Na’varr.
“You’re dead now or later. Doesn’t matter to me. All that matters
is the payout.”

Ice-cold rage knotted in Na’varr’s
gut. In a heartbeat he had a laz blade to the cyborg’s mostly human
throat. “I told you when we first met. If you cross me, you won’t
survive it.” His voice held all the fury and bitterness at this
latest betrayal.

“What, are you going to do? Kill me?
You don’t have the stones, pirate.”

Na’varr let out a harsh laugh. “I
won’t have to. My cousin doesn’t tolerate failure. You’ll be dead
before the week is out.”

“I don’t work for your
cousin.”

Na’varr plunged his dagger forward and
Shawn Yates screamed. The blade pierced the emergency release
circuit, jamming the mechanical switch open. The foreman couldn’t
leave the suit until he received assistance.

Dust swirled around them in a rush of
heat and he didn’t need to look up to know the cavalry had
arrived.

The alarms grew louder.

Attention. Dome breach
imminent. Seek shelter or don breathing apparatus.

It took a moment for the cyborg to
realize he wasn’t dead. In that split second, his cheeks flamed
red.

Na’varr smiled. “Looks like you can
still blush, metal head.”

“You blow up my dome and there will be
no place you can hide, meat sack.”

He reached in and yanked out the
foreman’s oxygen breather. “What are you going to do about
it?”

Yates’s muscles bulged against the
restraints of his suit he was trapped in and Na’varr made a
clicking sound with his tongue. “I can’t have you following me, can
I?” He slapped the exoskeleton’s face screen up and backed away.
When the dome opened, Yates would survive—not that he deserved
it.

Brom growled through the earpiece.
“You should let him die.”

Na’varr ignored the commentary and
jumped down from the machine. The impact sent a sharp pain through
his side. He put on the foreman’s oxygen breather, desperate to
hear the voice of his little information thief. “Raesa.”

“I’m on the way. My breather is on.”
Her voice was strained, but the fact she was talking meant she was
alive. And at this moment, he’d take it.

He nodded to himself and ran toward
Brom’s rough landing zone. The ship hovered, rushing ice dust and
heat around his bare skin. Every cut and scrape on his arms and
chest burned. He jumped for the ramp and climbed up.

“Dome released.” He barely made out
Raesa’s words before the murky sky turned stark black. Ice dust
blocked the view and he dropped his gaze back to the mining
compound.

“Raesa what’s your position?” he
asked.

Brom answered first. “She’s in a dead
run, coming right at us. Looks like she’s injured.”

“I’m fine.” Her words were
breathless.

Fear struck him deep inside. Fifteen
years ago, he’d lost everything in a bloody coup d'etat, including
the woman currently hidden within dust. He’d thought she was dead
once. Finding her alive had been a miracle, and his idiotic plan
had put her in danger.

“Where the hell are you?” he muttered.
With relief, he made out a feminine body racing toward the
ship.

“Move your ass, hellcat.” Brom’s voice
hit the earpiece. The ship stuttered and trembled. Na’varr snapped
a cargo line around his waist and ran down the ramp, gripping the
rails for dear life. She ran at a speed that filled him with
pride.

Shots ricocheted off the ramp and
Na’varr ducked in reflex.

“Shit they’re shooting at
us.”

“Hurry up, dammit,” Brom
demanded.

The ship tipped forward, knocking
Na’varr the distance he needed. When this was all over, he was
either going to kiss Brom or kick his ever-loving ass.

Raesa jumped and he gripped her
forearm. Agony tore up his side, but he tightened his hold,
dragging her onto the ramp. She ran on, hauling him with
her.

They made it inside and she slapped
the cargo door shut. Metal groaned. He hauled her around the corner
as more shots hit the cargo doors. Breath came in painful
gasps.

He touched his tender ribs and
wondered if something had broken in the fight.

“Ramp’s closing. Get us the hell out
of here.” Raesa yell ended in a cough. It sealed with a
groan.

“Get strapped in,” Brom said. A loud
explosion rocked the side of the ship.

Na’varr instinctively steadied Raesa.
“Report,” he ordered.

“We were hit with an anti-raid
blaster. Get to a damn seat and strap yourselves in.”

Na’varr wrapped his arm around her
shoulders and hauled her forward. She stumbled but caught her pace.
They raced across the cargo bay to the closest seats they could
find.

He took in her disheveled appearance,
the too-wide eyes, the way she favored her leg. They wouldn’t make
it up to the helm where Brom had control of the ship. He would have
to wait until they were in space before he could get her to MEDbay
and figure out the extent of her injuries. His scan would wait
until he could head up to the bridge and tear Brom a new asshole
for going against his direct orders.

“We’re in.” Raesa winced and pulled
the safety harness away from the side she’d favored in her
run.

Terror chilled his blood. How
extensive were her injuries? What had happened to make everything
go so fucking wrong?

“Brace for launch,” Brom said. “This
is going to suck.”

“I smell blood.” Brom glanced up from
his position at the helm. It was unusual for the hybrid to be
manually flying the ship, so the damage must have been greater than
she imagined.

Beside her, Na’varr waved a hand.
“It’s just some scrapes.”