Stop (Cold Mark Book 3) (7 page)

Jax snorted at their backs as we walked sedately behind them. “Not even a ‘welcome back.’”

“Very rude, indeed.”

An agent glanced over his shoulder, studying us silently.

“He thinks we’re weird,” I grumbled, staring right back at the agent. He was the one who had snuck his knee in my back to hold me down.

“The barbarian race has afflicted us.”

“The dastardly devils.”

He paused as we stepped down a brightly lit stairwell. “Okay, let’s try to be serious.”

“Okay.” I lasted twenty seconds. “Do you think the President will give me his autograph?”

“Maybe. On your execution paperwork.”

“I’d already thought about that. I was talking about, like a statement from him saying I’ve beat you in score during our combat training.”

“We’re back to that?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t really left the topic yet.”

“I have. You see, my dear friend Braita, I will always…” He trailed off as Plata’s government building came into view. “Probably time to shut up now.”

“Yes. That might be wise.”

It was a stupid move. We were both thrown in a jail cell. Together. We weren’t even searched.

Our peaceful Human counterparts didn’t think the way the Mian did, a small blessing.

But we sat. And waited. For three damn days.

We were lucky they brought us food.

And, between Jax and me, we had enough medicine to keep him properly drugged.

We kept our conversation light, knowing the area was chronicled.

The President waited for us to slip. To indicate we had turned. Become the enemy.

We never gave him what he was looking for.

So, late on the third night, we were summoned. Sans laser-cuffs.

Bless Mother Joyal, because they chafed horribly.

Four agents—we were down one now—showed us to a conference room. I sat comfortably on a black chair while Jax investigated a halo-screen in the corner that was on a repeating loop of Plata news. Nothing much happening on our home planet from the looks of it. Just tons of sunshine and the reconstruction underway from the tsunami’s destruction.

“How long do you think he’ll make us wait?” I asked in a bored tone.

“Probably a good hour.” Jax sat next to me eventually. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when he finally arrives.”

It took three hours, and two trips to the bathroom, for him to grace us with his appearance. Though he entered the room with no fanfare, only three agents—down another—and two of his advisers. They sat across from us in the quiet.

I allowed my best friend to snore in their faces for a full minute since the President had made us wait days before I politely nudged Jax. He awoke with a start, but quickly shook off the sleep, seeing we had company. He wasn’t any more impressed than I was.

Jax sat forward, placing his hands on the table, allowing the President to see the red marks left from the laser-cuffs, and asked bluntly, “Did I steal the right hov-craft for you?”

The President’s smile was miniscule in the extreme. “You did.”

Jax’s brows rose. “And, still, I don’t hear even a ‘thank you.’ Instead, my accomplice and I were detained on Joyal land for three days. Would you care to elaborate why?”

Keen, intelligent eyes stared back at us. The President was no fool. “By all accounts, the surviving Humans became slaves on Triaz. How is it you two were able to escape slavery and steal the leaders of the easts personal hov-craft?”

“Plumas,” I corrected him. “Their title is Plumas.”

His attention hovered back and forth between us, ignoring my jibe. “I’m waiting.”

Jax responded in a bored tone, taking control. Which I was grateful for since I was a horrible liar. “After the ‘arrival ritual’ where most of us died, Braita and I were chosen to go to the east as slaves. We both bare ten marks on our wrists, which gained us certain privileges not all Humans were given. The Mian are a warring people, but they are not without their mercy.

“We were given the opportunity for freedom through combat inside an arena called the Crank Pit. If we won thirty matches, then we would be granted our freedom. Worthy in the eyes of the Mian.” He shrugged a shoulder, lying out his ass. “We won our battles and gained our freedom.”

I added, “We were able to do reconnaissance afterward during the daylight hours due to the Mians poor eyesight in the Sun. Most Mian were asleep during that time. We moved around the city of Vlymun easily and slept in the sewers at night to avoid detection.” All of which, I had actually done. No lying needed.

The President steepled his hands on the table and peered down at his fingers, appearing to study his cuticles. “When you say you won thirty matches against a race far superior to our in strength and speed, what do you mean exactly?”

My voice was cold, remembering the arrival ritual. “We killed them.” I sneered ever so slightly, flexing my fingers on a jerk reaction, as if I still gripped the blades in my hands slippery from so much blood. “We killed them all.”

Jax leaned back on his chair in a relaxed position when the room went silent.

The two of us said nothing else. We waited. Again.

The President eventually sighed, sounding weary. “There is still one piece to the puzzle I don’t understand. So tell me, Mr. Waterston, how did you manage to steal the hov-craft? It appears, in order to operate it a fingerprint was needed. A fingerprint approved by the...” he glanced at me, then back to Jax, “...
Plumas
of the east.”

I didn’t flinch at the question. I stayed perfectly calm. Though I had no clue how Jax would finagle a believable excuse.

Apparently, Jax didn’t either. He faltered for the barest moment, glancing off to the side, before his attention swung back to the President. “I’d rather not say.”

The President only stared.

“It’s of a personal nature.”

Stony silence was all he was met with.

Jax rubbed his lips together and peered down at the table. “I became a
pet
to the Plumas.” His voice was quiet, solemn. “They had watched me fight and became enamored with me.”

The President blinked. “A pet?”

Jax cleared his throat and yanked his gaze to the opposite wall. He stared there for all he was worth as his cheeks flamed red, his voice choked. “I had sexual intercourse with them on many occasions. I gained their trust in that manner, and in return, they gave me special treatment. One of which included allowing me to fly their hov-craft on a weekend we spent together.”

My eyes flew straight to my lap, holding my breath. Mother Joyal, this excuse might just work. And it had cost Jax to say it, his flaming cheeks proof positive. The way the President, or
any
Human on Joyal would view him, would never be the same as soon as word was released he’d had
sexual
relations with another person, had prostituted himself out. It was the lowest of the low for any Human, an inexcusable act—and
illegal
act on Joyal.

In the quiet, the President hummed softly. “I don’t believe you.”

My attention snapped straight on him. “
What
?” I waved a hand at Jax. “He just bared his soul to you, and you say that? What kind of shit—”

He held up a stopping hand, cutting me off. “Let me rephrase that.” He cleared his throat and stood from his chair, his advisers and agents following suit. “Even if I did believe Mr. Waterston’s recount, my decision wouldn’t be any different. The Plumas of the east will want restitution for their stolen hov-craft. I plan to give it to them in the form of you two.” He tipped his head to us, a respectful bow, his tone cautious but resolute. “Your corpses will arrive on Triaz within the week.”

My words were quiet, having prepared for this. “You want to get the outcome you wish by handing over the thieves.”

“But it is something, Ms. Valorn.” He shook his head. “Mr. Waterston didn’t jam the frequency when he left Triaz, as he should have. They know the hov-craft is here.”

Even worse. “Trust me, Mr. President. Let us go back now. Alive. We can work this issue out with them.”

His brows rose. “They trust you so much?”

Oops. “They trust Jax.”

His head tilted back and forth in deep thought. “That much I do believe.” He crossed his arms, peering between us. We sat silent for three minutes. The President ran a hand over his face, and then peered directly at Jax. “Do you truly believe you can right your folly and stop the Mian from retaliation with us? Is your bond with them so strong?”

Jax didn’t bullshit this time. “I could try. But I can’t do it if I’m dead.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I was never instructed to jam any frequencies. I wouldn’t know how to do that even if I had been told. I barely managed to get the damned hov-craft here
with
its easy flying mode. All I received was a week’s worth of training after the tsunami before I was shipped out. The folly, as you say, was the government’s fault. Not mine. And if you want me to stop a war from happening, I would suggest you quit threatening to kill me.”

The President’s brows rose and he smiled. A real one. “Those are the first true words I’ve heard you state thus far.” He nodded then glanced at his advisors. “Allow Mr. Waterston to return alive and unharmed, to Triaz with Ms. Valorn’s corpse. It will show we do take citizens of Triaz trespassing on Joyal seriously.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re going to use me as a pawn?”

The President didn’t back away from my question. “Yes. In this situation, we need to show strength. Eliminating one to save many shouldn’t be a new concept for you. You were trained with this and know our rules.”

“Um…I think that’s a really bad choice.” I chewed on my lower lip. I wasn’t sure what I should say or what I shouldn’t now. Death was beating down my door no matter which way I strategized. All I could say was the truth. “Yeah, I think it’s a bad idea. You won’t get the results you want with my death.” War would come if they killed me, and in return, killed my Vaq.

His brows snapped together. “That is the second time you’ve said that. Why do you believe that, Ms. Valorn?”

If I said I was the Soul to the Plumas of the west, I would be locked in a jail cell for the rest of my life while this greedy son of a bitch squeezed the Plumas for all they were worth. “I actually don’t think I like you very much, Mr. President.”

Jax choked next to me his wide gaze meeting mine. “Just wait.” His words held a different meaning. We did have weapons. I could escape, maybe even back to Triaz. “Maybe the President will see reason by the time I leave.”

I sighed, glaring at the President. “Think. Hard.”

Boom.

I grabbed the table as the ground shook. My eyes were wide as screams were heard.

Too late. A red blaring light erupted inside the room. It was the warning of an attack.

The President’s gaze slammed in our direction, altering between us. He barked, “Grab
both
of them. They need to come with us to the bunker.” Smart. A definite asshole. But he was intelligent.

I jumped from my chair when another explosion rocked the floor, the red flickering glow of the alarm doing nothing to calm my nerves. As the room suddenly filled with agents leading the President away, Jax and I didn’t argue when we were also ushered from the room. We quickly ran with the government officials, to the safe location the President was mandated to hunker down in if an attack on Joyal ever occurred.

Our group came to a screaming halt as we exited the building. All attention was to the sky.

Hundreds of Mian space crafts dotted the dark sky, appearing like death clouds.

The protection of Plata was mediocre at best after the tsunami, the waves having taken down many of the missile ranges. Any being fired made no real impact on their ships, the blasts exploding and lighting the sky in brilliant reds and yellows, but it was all it was against the attack—a pretty show.

“Mother Joyal,” an agent whispered in fear next to me.

“Keep praying,” I muttered. “If they get
really
pissed, we’re fucking screwed.”

Her attention slammed to me. “How do you know they’re not already pissed?”

Stupid question. “Because we’re not dead.”