Thief (37 page)

“Maybe I should have let Heller let you die. By the way you’re acting, it would have made you happy.” Bailey shoved the cards away and stood.

“Bailey, wait—”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore! Go get yourself killed. Go live a long and miserable life since that seems to be what you want.” Bailey stomped out of the rec room.

Kraft sat on the ratty couch and sighed. This was not going well at all. Her last hours aboard
Prospect
were going to be nothing short of pure misery, and yet everyone seemed to think that was the way she wanted it. Given her druthers, she’d like to shadow right now and slip quietly off when they hit Corona.

Just a few more hours, she reminded herself, as she made her way to the kitchen. A few more hours and then it’d all be over and she could start again. The last hours were going to be the hardest, though, since she had to spend them in the kitchen right next to Jace.

“Lord on high, help me get through this.”

Jace waited for her in the kitchen, wearing that green shirt that drove her nuts. That green shirt that matched his exotic-sunset green eyes. That simple shirt that she wanted to rip off him with her teeth.

“You ready?” he asked.

Her vision of him under her gnashing mouth caused her to utter, “Yeah. Okay. First thing we’ll start with is the bread.”

That went simple enough. Jace learned fast, but he also took notes.

“Just in case,” he said with a grin. “I’m so pretty it might just slip my mind.”

Kraft wouldn’t bite. He gave her opportunity after opportunity to flirt, and even though the words came automatically to mind, she swallowed them down. Determined, she kept her voice and posture entirely professional. She showed him how to make Apple Brown Betty and also a simple potato and corn chowder the crew dubbed Wowder Chowder.

Jace asked her every question he could, and she knew he was deliberately dragging things out since Jace had a mind like a durosteel trap.

“You’ve got it all written down. You’ll be fine. Why don’t you call everyone up for dinner?”

Dinner did not go well. Bailey refused to even look at her and Jace kept rubbing his leg against hers. He did it as if he was utterly unaware, but she knew he wasn’t. It was the most horrible torture she’d ever suffered. Kraft couldn’t wait to get off the ship, yet wanted to stay.

“We’ll be docking in an hour,” Bailey said, standing. “Then you can get on with the whole killing yourself thing.” He stomped off to the bridge.

“You must have told him he couldn’t come with you,” Jace said, watching Bailey exit the galley. “I take it your chat with him didn’t go well.”

“Not very.” Kraft sighed. “But he’s got no illusions about me anymore. He knows exactly what kind of a bitch I really am.”

“Hell, girl, wish you’d reconsider,” Garrett said. “We could really use you here.”

“I appreciate it, Garrett, but—”

“She’s got that punishing herself thing to tend to and we’d only get in her way.” Jace stood.

Kraft gritted her teeth. Jace behaved as badly as Bailey. Perhaps worse, since Jace should have been capable of at least
acting
like an adult.

“I don’t think there is any call to get nasty here,” Payton offered. “Kraft has every right to leave the ship, Jace.”

“Right. Lord knows there’s nothing that could make her stay.” Jace tossed his napkin onto his now bare plastiware plate.

A small voice, somewhere very deep in her heart, called out that there was one thing she’d stay for. Kraft bit it off and stood. “I think I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Shouldn’t you give a big good-bye speech? You know, something about all the good times and all that?” Jace asked.

“And you say I bait everyone?” Heller grunted.

Everyone turned surprised eyes on him.

“You’ve done nothing but bait her for two days, Jace. Why don’t you two just shake hands and be done with it?”

“And lo, the voice of reason comes from—Heller?” Garrett shook his head.

Kraft offered her hand. It hung in the air for a long time while Jace just looked at it. In the end, she withdrew it. “Fine. I hope you all have many happy trails. I hope you all find what you’re looking for.”

“Well, I hope you don’t.”

His tone and his words stung.

“Hell, Jace, what is up your butt?” Garrett hissed.

“You want her to get what she wants? She wants to punish herself or die trying. I don’t want her to get that. I hope she finds the opposite. I hope every nice and wonderful thing that could ever happen to you does.” With that, Jace thrust out his hand.

Kraft took it. “I hope the same for you.” She made a point of not letting her voice sound like a curse.

Dark of night saturated the port of Borealis. Kraft shadowed her way off
Prospect
and a good distance into the streets. She ducked into an alley and made sure no one followed her. There was a touch of disappointment when she realized there was no way they could have.

Finding her way to Robber’s Roost was easy. She just followed the main street to the biggest, most out of place building. Sure enough, amid the rubble and new buildings, she found one that looked like an oversized saloon from Earth.

She’d never pondered why, but the IWOG liked their hells to look like something out of the books they banned, as if they thumbed their noses at themselves.

“Waste of time trying to figure out the mind of the IWOG,” Kraft said to herself as she pushed open the door. A familiar smell of high-dollar hooch and cologne couldn’t mask the smell of desperate sweat. A piquant stench that no amount of after-shave or even the best air exchanger could ever rid the hells of. She hated the reading of failure, stung pride, and decimated lives that emanated from the very buildings. If she could, she’d wear gloves to protect herself from the onslaught, but then she wouldn’t be able to read the tables either. She never hankered for a bath as much as she did after working one of the hells.

Kraft strode to the bar, ordered the best whiskey straight up and knocked it back like a pro. No one questioned whether or not she belonged because she looked, walked and acted like she owned the damn place. Eyeing the various tables, she saw one, in the back, that would suit her. Four IWOG officers, dressed in strange civilian clothes, played a lively game of poker. They bet fortunes. Those who lost did so with laughter and gruff back-slapping. It would take some finagling, but she knew how to get into the game.

“Men are men, no matter where they’re from,” she whispered to herself. She sauntered over to the empty chair. “Mind if I join?”

They eyed her and she could tell they were all well into their cups. Perfect. Reading drunks was like reading a comic book.

“I wouldn’t mind a pretty lady joining us, but I don’t think you’ve got the scratch to play with the big boys.”

Kraft wanted to groan at his horrible western affect. He’d probably read a banned book or two and thought himself an expert. She tailored her face to look a bit more wide-eyed and simple.

“I only have a hundred, but couldn’t you play one lesser hand for me?” She batted her eyelashes and pouted. “None of the other tables will let me play.”

They sucked up her sugar-sweet act like thirsty sponges.

She won the first hand and the next. Carefully, she lost half of it in the third hand, but won it right back in the fourth. Dancing, twirling them along, buying them drinks, she worked her paltry script up. When they drank, or slapped each other, she would hide part of her winnings in her boot. They had no idea how much she’d already won from them.

“You seem to be doing right well for a lady,” the big man said. His funny shirt with the strange buttons drew tight across his huge belly.

“Must be beginner’s luck.” She smiled and blushed. “If you want, I can give it back—” she offered, knowing they’d never take it but offering always shamed them into letting her walk away unscathed.

“No, of course I don’t want it back! That ain’t nothing but petty cash, little girl. You take it an’ buy yourself something right pretty.”

It took all her will not to roll her eyes. “Well, thank you all so much.” She tucked the money to her pocket and made her way through the crowded tables. A sudden rush of regret washed through her and she grabbed the back of a chair. Her eyes closed, she gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. Determined, she strode to the bar.

“I need a room for the night.”

Giving her a dubious once over, the barman drawled, “3K, lady.”

“Fine.” She plucked a wad of script from her boot and shelled the money out. “And a bottle of your best sipping whiskey.”

“Three flat.”

“Fine.” She shelled out more. Looking up, she added, “A hundred for you if you give me the quietest room you’ve got.”

He smiled and handed her a key. “Four eleven. All the way on the top in the back. You won’t hear a peep.”

Kraft took the key, the bottle, and made her way up the stairs.

Jace, slumped down at a corner table, watched her go. For a lady who was on her way back to her preferred lifestyle, she sure didn’t look happy. He gave her ten minutes then followed her up.

A heavy carpet lined the hallway and muted his steps. He found her room and stood there with his hand raised to knock.

“What in the Void am I going to say?”

His argument with Heller filled his head. Heller, of all people, telling him he was a clunk-head if he let Kraft go.

Jace touched the door and to his amazement it opened. He couldn’t hear anything, so he pushed it then peered around the edge.

Fancy room, he thought. Lots of thick fabric, all in browns and blacks, very western, lot of hide and leather deco crap strewn about. Sitting in the middle of the room was the biggest bed he’d ever seen. It had to be fifteen by fifteen feet. It was bigger than the bed at Michael “Overlord” Parker’s place. No doubt it was made for IWOG officers who had more than one bed partner.

Water splashed and he realized she was in the tub. He slipped into the room, carefully closed and locked the door. Chucking his boots off, he made his way to the partially open bathroom door.

Peering around the edge, he found Kraft up to her ears in water, her twined hair dangled off the back of the massive, red claw-foot tub. A whiskey bottle sat untouched on a marble side-table.

Kraft sighed. Not one of contentment, but one of resigned acceptance. More and more Jace became convinced she was as miserable as he was. If not more so. He leaned casually against the doorframe and toed the door open.

“That was quite an act.”

Kraft shot out of the tub. Water splashed all over the white marble floor as she groped frantically for a towel. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! This isn’t your ship. You have no right to bust in here, invading my privacy and—”

“I didn’t bust in. I walked in. The door was open.” He tossed her a cherry red towel.

“I’ll make sure to lock it after you leave.” Kraft wrapped the towel around her.

Jace relaxed against the doorframe.

She took a deep breath and blew it out through pursed lips. “Well?”

“What?”

“Leave.”

He considered. “No.”

“Tell you what, you better be on your way. You’re not captain here, and I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

“Oh, I think you do at that.” Jace unbuttoned his shirt.

“What the hell do you think—”

He pulled her money belt off. “You owe me an explanation.”

She looked at it as if he held a gun on her. “You need it more than I do.”

He tossed it on the table by the whiskey bottle. “You know, for a lady who doesn’t love me, you sure seem to go out of your way to make sure I’m well taken care of.”

“Maybe I just forgot it.”

“Maybe you really are in love with me.”

“Maybe this conversation is over.” Kraft stepped from the tub and grimaced at the sopping floor. She threw a few towels on the mess then strode past him. Her trembling hand yanked at the door and she started swearing when she discovered he’d locked it. Furiously, she scrabbled at the lock.

Jace took her hand and she flinched back.

“Get out of my room.”

“Not until we sort this out.”

“I could easily pitch you right out of here.”

“You won’t.”

“And just what is stopping me?”

“For one, you don’t want to attract a lot of unwanted attention to yourself. I’m sure they’ve got a Breaker Squad on reserve here.” Jace stepped forward and caressed her face. “For another, I really don’t think you could hurt me.”

“Are you doubting my skills as a fighter?” Kraft put her hands on her hips.

“I’m doubting your ability to hurt the man you love.”

“I told you I lied!” Exasperated, Kraft threw up her hands. Her towel pooled around her feet. Her face turned almost as red as the towel as she yanked it back up. In her frustration, she wasn’t able to cover herself. “Just, just,” she stammered, her lip quivering. “Just leave me alone.”

“So you can make your way all alone and lonely?” Jace noticed but deliberately ignored her nakedness.

“I’m not lonely.”

“Yes, you are.” Jace caught her gaze, focused on her eyes despite everything else he could see. “You know, I finally unpacked it, Kraft. Why your eyes have haunted me since the day I first laid eyes on you. You have hungry eyes, Kraft. You have the hungriest eyes I’ve ever seen. And I finally figured out what it is you’re so damn hungry for.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She struggled, briefly, then gave herself up to his embrace.

“If all you want is one more night in my bed—”

“Nice try.” Jace laughed softly into her ear as he held her tight. “But it isn’t sex, it isn’t scratching an itch, for me or you. You want love, Kraft. You want to be loved so desperately that when you found it, it scared the hell out of you because you seem to think you don’t deserve it. You tried to destroy it. When you realized you couldn’t, you ran.”

“I told you I lied.” Her voice was so soft even she didn’t buy what she was saying.

“Well, I don’t believe you,” Jace said. “And that’s not what you’re running from. You know I love you. You’ve known it for quite a while and that’s what you’re running from. Because it’s exactly what you’ve been looking for your whole life. You think now that you’ve found it, somehow, your life is over.”