Thief (9 page)

Charissa sat at the table. “Did you cook on your ship?”

“I did, I did.” Kraft served up plates to the rest of the crew as Heller mumbled to himself. “Everybody took a turn, even me. There was a lot of gluttony on the nights the duty fell to me, and a lot of fasting on the nights it fell to Danna. That woman could fight an army, but couldn’t serve fresh fruit without disaster.”

Kraft shook her head and laughed as she handed a plate to Jace. For a brief moment, they both touched the plate, and she tried to read him through it, but found conflicting thoughts and feelings. Some of her own emotions charged back at her with a curious feedback she’d never encountered. Her inability to read him startled her, and she let go of the plate so abruptly it almost dropped.

His lightning-fast reflexes saved his plate from crashing to the floor. After settling it within his grasp, he narrowed his eyes and his frown deepened.

He didn’t go to sit at the table, but stood with her in the kitchen as she fixed her own plate. Jace seemed in no hurry to move away. She enjoyed looking at his front-side for a change, but felt confused by the look on his face—concerned, compassionate, yet oddly carnal and compelling. Unable to read him, Kraft turned away.

“I remember this one time when we pilfered a ship full of apples that rapidly went bad. Within a week, we had to unload them, eat the damn things, or eject them into the Void.”

Horror filled her when tears welled up in her eyes. Frozen with shock, she locked her gaze on Jace, and felt desperate to find a way to leave without drawing attention to herself.

Jace seemed to understand that she was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of her dead crew. “Kraft, before you eat, I want you to check that freeze-dried food in the lower storage area.” He took the serving spoon from her, blocked her from the view of his crew at the table, leaned close and whispered, “Go.”

After giving him a grateful nod, she left the kitchen and strode swiftly down the main hallway then the catwalks aft. She refused to let gathering tears blind her. She’d rather die than let anyone see her cry. Somehow, that Jace understood and spared her made her tears more thick and shameful when they erupted.

She crossed the floor of the hold and ran into her room. She slapped at the wall com, shut the door and tumbled to her bed. Hard and racking, her body shook as Danna, Jinj, Shar, Tan, Bavin, Path and Road all ran through her mind.

Danna, so fierce, a fighter through and through, yet so tender to Jinj, their doctor. Shar, able to fly
Whisper
like gossamer thread through a theoretical needle. Tan, small but deadly, able to make
Whisper’s
engine do the impossible. Path, a computer whiz, Road, her sister, just as brilliant. And Bavin, young and fiercely enamored of Danna. Bavin had been too new to learn much before her life ended. From all the women of
Whisper
could have taught her, Bavin showed the most promise as a cook.

“I refused to stand down.”

Burying her face in the pillow, Kraft tried to quell her hot tears of regret and shame. She blamed herself for all of their deaths, because she was the captain. If she’d been a better captain, all of them might still be alive.

Kraft and her crew danced their way through the Void for five years. There had been times of men—crew members, companions, lovers—but they never lasted long. Very few men could handle the women of
Whisper
. In the end, what drove them away was Captain Kraft. A woman in charge chafed.

Through it all, Kraft kept
Whisper
flying. She lived for her ship. The crew might flux, but the crew always held to the ship.
Whisper
defied the Void, over and over, until the odds got too long and the Void took a terrible vengeance.

Out of eight women, only Kraft survived.

She’d been drugged, bound, bought and sold, but still she drew breath, and she found herself beggar for that—Jace could toss her out an airlock at any moment if he were so inclined.

And they both knew it.

Even though she could best him in a fight, she wouldn’t, because she owed him her life.

Her gaze riveted on her bare feet. Through the prism of her tears, her feet seemed terribly far away and far too small to hold the weight of her body, let alone her conscience. She wiggled her toes and, like a fun-house mirror, her tears made them look huge then small.

“At least I’ve still got feet.”

If she had feet, she could stand, and if she could stand, she could fight. Even though, sometimes, she didn’t really know what she was fighting for.

Kraft shook her head and looked around the bedroom Jace allowed her to use. There were little Charissa touches everywhere—a fancy stitched pillow in a rainbow of colors, a vase of faded silk flowers on the battered table, a crazy quilt formed out of everything from supple leather to cotton grain sacks. All in all, a warm and inviting room.

Mutiny
rocketed her through the Void as Captain Lawless held her life in his hands. In the blink of an eye, she tumbled from captain to cook-whore. She found herself compelled to cook but rejected as whore by a man with as much honor as she.

Kraft made her way up the catwalk then down the main hall to the kitchen to begin dinner. With the limited supply in the pantry, she would have to exercise the very depth of her cooking skills. Flexing her mental fingers, she relished the challenge. Good food made life bearable. Good food on
Mutiny
was akin to making it rain in the desert.

Jace strode down the hall from the bridge.

She found herself at the opposite end of the long hall that ran from the bridge in the fore of
Mutiny
, to the catwalk around the cargo bay aft.

When she looked up, she found her gaze riveted with his.

Lord on high, that man had beautiful eyes.

The moment spun out, and Kraft felt a giddy thrill run through her. Part sheer desire, part outright fear. She felt vulnerable around him. He held her life in his hands, and he had seen her cry. Not a soul in the Void had ever seen her cry.

Tension filled her as she walked toward him.

Jace went past her.

He didn’t stop her and demand an explanation for what had happened at lunch. He didn’t give her so much as a curious look, or even one brimming with pity. He simply nodded and walked on down the hall, intent on his business.

At the doorway to the kitchen, she turned and watched him walk away. For such a tall and heavy man, Jace walked with an unusual rolling grace. Her gaze dropped to his fanny, which was nicely outlined by his trousers and the low slung double-holster around his hips.

Damn it all, but that man had a nice backside.

Damn it all, but that man, coming or going, would make anything female sit up and take notice.

Damn it all, but Jace Lawless was so much more than pretty.

Getting emotionally entangled with him would be the stupidest thing she could do. Kraft vowed again to hold to her honor. By honor she would cook for him as a member of his crew, and if demanded it, she would be his whore, but she would keep her heart to herself.

“We should arrive at Dahank in a few hours, Captain Lawless.” Bailey sat at the table for breakfast. He smoothed his wayward blond locks as he looked at her.

“What city?” Kraft asked from her usual place in the kitchen. She studiously ignored Bailey. His crush grew like a weed. Maybe it would be better if Jace made her his whore. At least Bailey would get the hint and stop looking at her with winsome-puppy eyes.

“Jade.” Jace kept his back to her as he sat at the head of the table.

“Ever been?” Garrett asked from the other end of the table, flashing her a horse-toothed grin.

“I have, I have.” In between bites of breakfast, Kraft washed up the dishes. “How long will we be docked?”

“A few hours,” Jace said, over his shoulder. “Why? You need something?”

“Well, I’m running out of options in this pantry of yours.”

Day by day, the food Kraft served grew less spectacular, but only because the pantry pickings became sparse.

“I got no problem kicking in for more grub,” Garrett said, “provided you’ll be around to cook it.”

Bailey, Payton and Charissa agreed by nodding vigorously since all their mouths were stuffed with food.

“Who’s gonna pay her share?” Heller squawked. Food flew from his mouth to the table. He pointed a meaty hand at her. “Ain’t fair I gotta pay for freak-show.”

“I’ll—” Garrett offered.

“No, I’ll pay,” Jace cut Garrett off.

Garrett grinned. “That’s right, she’s
your
cook, isn’t she?”

Before Garrett could goad Jace further, Kraft said, “Actually, Captain Lawless, give me a thousand-”

“A thousand!” Heller shot from the table. “That makes my share…” His brows lowered when he tried to divide a thousand by seven.

“That seems a bit much,” Jace said.

Heller’s face cleared and he grinned at her like he’d won.

“You didn’t let me finish, Captain Lawless. Give me a thousand. I’ll get what we need and bring you back the thousand. I’m not asking to keep it, just to borrow it for a while.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to unpack that.” Jace left off his meal and turned on the little bench to face her. “Seems to me it’s not a good idea for you to be stealing.”

Jace might be a thief, but he was an honorable thief. He didn’t condone stealing just because it was the easiest way to make a living on the Fringe. Kraft saw a lot of Fairing in Jace.

“I’m not aiming to steal anything, but if you have a problem with gambling…”

“Shit howdy!” Heller snarfed. “This gets better and better—your cook-whore has a gambling problem.”

Jace caught her gaze. “Does she.”

Giving him a slow smile, she shrugged and said, “Isn’t much of a problem if I win.”

“A thousand is an awful lot to risk,” Garrett said, darting a suspicious glance between her and Jace.

“Unless there is no risk.” Jace flashed her a knowing grin.

She could see it in his eyes. Jace grasped instantly what she planned to do. “Only other thing I need is a pair of shoes.” Her gaze bounced to her bare feet then up. “Some of Jade’s gambling hells are pretty ratty, but shoes would be a real plus for getting in the door.”

Jace nodded. He pulled a blackened leather wallet from his hip pocket and counted out battered script. When he came up short, Garrett, Payton, Bailey and Charissa helped him out.

Heller kept his arms crossed and refused to pitch in so much as a five-flat note. “What’s to stop freak-show from taking your script and running?”

“Her honor, Heller, and I’d appreciate it if you’d shut your big mouth.”

Tsking and rolling his eyes, Heller made it clear he thought they were suckers for trusting her with any money, let alone a bundle like that.

Jace stood and handed her the stack of multi-hued script. When the worn notes hit her hand, she felt fleeting emotions of what money meant to them—security, freedom, a future. They had so little, but had no problem sharing what they did have, and they trusted her because Jace did. She’d never touched such emotionally pure script in her life.

“I have an old pair of boots that might fit you.” Bailey leapt up from the table and ran from the room.

Charissa watched him with a sullen frown.

In Jade, Heller followed Kraft into a hell called the Double Whammy. It didn’t take long for her to walk away with over two thousand in script. When she left, Heller had to run to keep up with her. She ducked around the corner of a shabby two-bit hotel and restaurant.

Heller clomped his way round the corner to find her standing there with her hands on her hips.

“Instead of following me, Heller, why don’t you walk with me? You’re acting awful suspicious, and we don’t want the IWOG to start sniffing around.”

Kraft darted a gaze to the crowded streets of Jade. IWOG officers, with their swath of maroon-red against their royal-blue uniforms, stood out amongst the teeming masses.

Turning on her heel, her feet tight in Bailey’s boots, she walked away, crunching down the side street.

Heller fell into step beside her. “How’d you do that?”

“Know you were following me?” Kraft pointed at his thick-soled black boots. “You got some mighty big feet, and you don’t walk so much as you stomp from place to place.”

Heller took the subtle reprimand under consideration, then blurted, “No, how’d you win like that at the Double Whammy?”

“Just got a knack, that’s all.” She shrugged. If Heller didn’t know about her reader ability, she wasn’t about to enlighten him. “Do you gamble?”

“Not no more.” Heller spat on the ground.

Not since Jace took you from the grunt and groan of street fighting in Kali, Kraft thought. Curious as to why Jace kept Heller around, she’d found the answers when she read the crazy quilt in her room.

After the IWOG killed Heller’s parents, he joined one of the street gangs in Kali. He was ten. At nineteen, he started fighting in caged death matches. Jace took him away from all that, and Heller looked upon Jace as a combination of father, brother and captain.

Softly, Kraft said, “You sure know how to make a mighty fine crazy quilt.”

Heller stopped dead in the street. “Don’t know—”

“Keep walking.”

He kept pace with her only by sheer determination and outright indignant curiosity.

“None of them know, do they?” Kraft asked.

“If you tell—”

“I’m not going to tell anyone.” If she were so inclined, she could probably blackmail Heller with the information he enjoyed quilting. “I won’t blow your manly cover.”

“How’d
you
know?” Over the fading purple bruises on his face, Heller gazed at her with eyes that vacillated between fury and fear.

Kraft shrugged and sighed. “Just got a knack, that’s all. But thank you for letting me use the crazy quilt. It’s a true masterpiece.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” He snorted deeply and hawked a loogie to the street. “Charissa took it out of the rec room.”

“Do you want it back?” Kraft turned down another street.

“Didja mess it up?”

“No.” Kraft walked with great strides. Even with his long legs, Heller had to shove hard-forward to keep up. Under the weight of his weapon-riddled body, he gasped at her pace.