Taking Liberty (12 page)

“Fucking son of a—” Biting off the remainder of the curse, he raced from the ship, tearing the ground up at a mad clip to reach his pac-sack. He flew back to the Liberty like a pack of rabid dogs were snarling at his heels. Skidding to a stop next to the lounger, he ripped open the sack and tossed its contents onto the floor. He scrounged through the pile until he came to the medi-kit Rini had put together. Ripping the ties free, he unrolled the bag and searched for the venom blocker. He located the small hypodermic syringe and uncapped it. Fisting Rini's wrist, he inserted the needle just above her biceps and released the plunger, watching the clear liquid disappear from its chamber.

Minutes passed like long, agonizing hours before Rini stopped her thrashing. He drew her close, wrapping her tight inside the cage of his arms. Who knew if the blocker would continue to work its magic? In the meantime he'd pray for a miracle.

Chapter Twelve

Lucus gave the soup-filled pan suspended over the fire ring a final stir before ladling the broth into a bowl. He ducked inside the Liberty and settled on the carton he'd dragged next to the lounger. Rini remained locked in unconsciousness. The hair plastered against her perspiring cheek stirred with her soft breaths. He flicked a strand away from her forehead, and she mumbled something low and unintelligible.

His fingers brushed the smooth arch of her brow. “Sweetheart, are you awake?”

“No.”

A hot rush of relief flooded him and he smiled. “Faker.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Probably not long enough. But while you're awake, I want you to eat this.” He held up the bowl.

“What is it?”

“Soup. I brought it back with me from the guard station.”

“You carried a bowl of soup across the desert? How'd you keep from spilling it?”

“It was damn hard, believe me.” Emotion roughened his voice. Half an hour ago, he hadn't been certain she would pull through and now they were joking. The moment felt bittersweet and surreal.

“What do you mean by guard station? I thought you were going to the general's base.”

“So did I. There ended up being a change of plans.”

Curiosity momentarily banished the deep exhaustion lining Rini's face. “What happened?”

“I'll tell you—after you eat this.” He waggled the soup bowl in reminder, sloshing its contents.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Yes you are.”

Her expression turned mulish. “What, you have a direct link to my stomach?”

“Yep. And it let me know you need nourishment in order to get better.” He adjusted the lounger, raising her into a semi-reclining position.

“Fine.” Looking extremely put out, she reached for the bowl and gasped. “Hey, I can move.”

Thank you, Jesus
. “Better let me feed you anyway. Otherwise you'll end up slopping all over yourself.”

Surprisingly she didn't outright balk when he nudged the spoon against her lips, but he detected her slight hesitation as she inspected the utensil.

“For God's sake, woman, I washed it.”

“With soap? Because if you only did a quick dunk and rinse…”

Growling, he slipped the spoon inside her mouth. He got four scoopfuls down her before she insisted on talking again.

“This stuff is pretty good. Where'd you say you got it again?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “That was about as transparent as cling wrap.”

“You promised.”

“Yeah, I did. But you owe me at least four more bites.”

“How about two?” She returned his stern look with a long, petulant exhale. “Three. It's my final offer.”

“Deal.” He fed her the agreed-upon spoonfuls, brimming the last one to nearly overflowing—a sneaky trick Rini caught on to, if her irate glare was any indication. Since she'd—mostly—behaved with minimal fuss, he filled her in on the exciting events of the past forty hours.

“I can't believe you boot-balled Sammer the Hammer's cousin.” Rini's eyes doubled in size. “Or that he wears leopard-print thongs. What do you think that's all about?”

“Babe, I really didn't want to ask.”

Her scrutiny moved to his hip. “Can I see the transmitter?”

He dug inside his pocket and removed the tiny device. Rini plucked the object from his upturned palm, wistfulness softening her face. She cradled it with great care, almost as if she feared it'd disintegrate. “Do you think the signal will be strong enough for someone to find us?”

No way would he be the dark cloud on her hopeful horizon. “Without a doubt.”

Her smile dazzled to the point it almost hurt to stare directly at it. “That's the best news I've heard in five days, eleven hours and twenty-two minutes.”

“Been keeping track, have ya?”

“I worried if I didn't, time would become meaningless. Just a quaint concept from life…before.”

He blinked. “Damn, that's one heavy thought. Kind of makes my hidden fear about being separated from my visioncaster remote for the rest of my life seem pansy ass.”

“Not necessarily. I hear you men are inordinately attached to your remotes.”

Leaning close, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between you and me, I've been known to sleep with mine. If I could train it to spoon, we'd be a match made in heaven.”

A drowsy chuckle escaped Rini, and he frowned at the fatigue starting to show renewed signs. “Speaking of sleep, I think we need to get you undressed and into my bed.” Realizing how awkward that sounded, he averted his gaze.

“You're blushing.”

“Men don't blush. It's a sunburn. I've been roaming the desert for a day and half, for Christ's sake. Things are bound to get fried.”

“No, you're definitely redder than you were a minute ago.”

“Rini, zip it.” With that fierce warning issued, he picked her up and stalked down the corridor.

 

 

 

During the middle of the night, anguished moans awakened Lucus from a light doze. Hurtling from the lounger, he ran to check on Rini. She writhed restlessly on the bed, the twisted sheet a mangled disaster around her waist.

“Baby, what's wrong?” When she didn't answer, he stooped and touched her cheek. Her skin was roasting.
Fuck
. Panicked, he rushed to the galley and fetched the drinking jug and a couple clean rags. Returning to his sleeping port, he grabbed the glass resting on the overhead shelf and filled it partway. He tried to give Rini a sip but she thrashed wildly, making the water splash all over the place. Frustrated, he returned the glass to the shelf and soaked one of the rags. Prying her mouth open, he squeezed the cloth, wringing its moisture onto her tongue. She sputtered, forcing most of the water to dribble out.

“Rini, you have to drink. You're dehydrated and feverish.” He didn't know why he felt compelled to state the obvious. Odds were good she was delirious and unaware of his presence. He re-soaked the rag and fought to get more water past her lips. By the time he finished, her face and hair—not to mention the pillow—were drenched.

Weariness welled inside him. Recalling their earlier conversation regarding his fear of never holding his stupid remote again, he dropped his head. Rini was right. His whole life he avoided his real fears by making jokes instead. Well he had one big fucking fear staring him in the eye and no wisecrack would make it go away.

He picked up the rag and mopped it across her brow. Murmuring gibberish, she groped for the trailing cloth.

“Does that feel good? You want more?”

She didn't answer, of course, but he dipped the jug over the rag anyway, wetting it. He soothed her overheated skin with the cloth. When he reached the neckline of her tank top he pushed the fabric above her breasts and continued his ministrations. He pretended to ignore the way her nipples tightened when he swirled over their rosy-pink tips. Swallowing hard, he coasted towards her softly rounded belly. He dipped into her navel and tried not to think about the black lace bikini he'd gotten a brief glimpse of when he'd yanked her cargo pants off and helped her climb under the sheets.

A raging fever racked the poor woman and he couldn't get his mind off her panties.
Talk about a sick fucker
. Disgusted with himself, he lifted the rag. Rini clamped onto the cloth, her fingers twisting. Water oozed, splattering her abdomen. She pulled his hand against her, tugged it lower. Lower. Way lower. When they reached the crotch of her bikini he had every intention of doing the right thing—mostly.

Maybe he hesitated a second too long. Regardless, Rini decided to take the decision from him by rolling onto her side and trapping his hand between her thighs. Through the lace, he felt dampness that had nothing to do with the rag clutched in his grip.

“Rini, I know you can't hear me, but I need you to let go of my hand.”

Rather than oblige, she rocked her hips in a sinuous glide that made sweat crawl down his spine. “Please. Need…”

Oh hell
. Praying she wouldn't later despise him for what he was about to do, he shifted her onto her back and eased beneath the elastic of her panties. “Okay, baby. Let me help you.” His fingers encountered wet, hot flesh and he decided he should be nominated for sainthood for having the willpower not to climb between her legs and bury his cock to the hilt. He caressed her, the slick sound of her arousal making his blood pump straight towards his groin. With a little maneuvering, he found her clitoris. Having no idea how much speed or direct stimulation she preferred, he circled the nub with a light yet firm pressure. Her torso bowing off the bed, she dug a hand into the tangled sheet and howled in climax.

Okay, apparently he got it right.

Rini's entire body went slack and she sagged onto the mattress. He wished he suffered the same problem with limpness. Exact opposite for him at the moment. Extracting his hand, he bent to kiss her cheek before exiting the port. Once outside, he dunked his head in the water bucket and prayed for sanity.

Chapter Thirteen

Rini didn't show much improvement when morning came. Afternoon crept up on him fast and he abandoned her briefly to fill more of the drinking jugs. Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled out the transmitter. The green light remained on. So where the hell was the search and rescue ship? For all Lucus knew, Quarrel had a signal blocker orbiting the planet. Wouldn't that be just their fucking luck?

Pushing his black thoughts aside, he returned to Rini. One look at the sodden sheet as he walked back into the port convinced him a bedding change was long overdue. Not so easily executed however when an unconscious woman stretched across half the mattress.

He yanked the covers off one end before re-shifting Rini and freeing the other side. Then began the patience-zapping chore of dressing the bed with fresh sheets while Rini continually flip-flopped around. By the time he'd tucked everything in securely—including Rini—he'd sweated excessively, to the point he needed a changing too. Stripping down to his briefs, he slicked off his perspiration with one of the rags. The lack of clothing felt so damn good, he decided to forgo pants and shirt for the time being. Hell with it. Rini was oblivious to the world and wouldn't give a space rat's ass about him sitting around in his skivvies.

Sinking on the corner of the bed, he stroked her neck, reassured by the soft, steady thrum of the pulse beating beneath his thumb. Strange, this connection he'd forged with Rini. Maybe it was being forced into close confinement together. Or struggling for the same goal—survival and rescue. Whatever the cause, he'd never felt this kind of bond with a woman before. Not even with his ex.

His fingers ruffled through Rini's snarled hair. “I was a fool to compare you to Sandra. She would never have lasted through all this. Doesn't have the fortitude.” He smiled. “Or the balls.”

Now that he'd opened the gates, all the painful memories he'd kept misered away the past fifteen years insisted on bullying their way from his mouth. “She never liked being out of her element—which was usually the nearest department store. But hell, I knew that going into the marriage. I have no one to blame but myself. I was young and stupid and thought love always won out. It didn't. No way could I compete with her daddy's overflowing pocketbook.”

He stared down at Rini, for once grateful she remained unconscious. It might be cowardly, but it made it easier admitting to his failures knowing she'd never remember their one-sided conversation. Gripping the edge of the sheet, he tugged it over her shoulders. His attention shifted to the pile of laundry on the floor and he gave an exaggerated sigh. “A man's work is never done.”

 

Rini listened to Lucus's footsteps padding away. Her head hurt like a royal mother, which was why she'd decided to keep her eyes closed. At the time it seemed like a brilliant idea. Now she wondered if she shouldn't have given him some indication she was awake.

If he'd known, he wouldn't have confided those things to me.

There it was. The ugly truth. She'd played at being asleep so he'd keep talking. Some way to treat the guy who'd apparently taken such great care of her when she was dead to the world. Groaning, she rolled over and blinked at the ceiling. Huramhi tribal drummers were throwing a party behind her skull—probably karmic payback for her being deceitful. She massaged her temples and fought off a wave of queasiness. Lying in bed was doing nothing but providing her head a steady place to throb. She scooted the covers aside and inched her legs towards the edge of the mattress. God, it felt wonderful to achieve even that basic movement. Never again would she take her mobility for granted.

Lurching into a sitting position, she rocked to her feet. And almost fell backwards. She gripped the steel frame bolting the bed to the wall. Once she felt reasonably steady, she shuffled clumsily into the corridor. Halfway to the galley it occurred to her perhaps she shouldn't be wandering around in only a tank top and bikini. Not that Lucus hadn't already seen her skimpy ensemble. She snuck a glance behind her and her shaky legs protested any notion of making a return trip.