Girl From Above Escape (The 1000 Revolution Book 2) Page 12

  “Are you?” I asked.

  She glared.

  I lifted my chin, crossed the tiny cabin in two strides, and backed her up against the door. “Your words mean nothing to me. They’re just words, Francisca. I can’t trust you. The truth is, I trust a fuckin’ pirate more than I trust you, and that’s never going to change.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re making a mistake.”

  She breathed hard through her nose.

  I braced my arm against the door beside her head. “Why did you get me out of Asgard?”

  Her lashes fluttered as she fought not to blink. This close to her, I could see her struggling to hold my stare and how tiny lines undermined her slight smile. She was a liar, and a dangerous one at that.

  “I …” Her voice failed. She licked her lips and left them slightly parted, sending my thoughts careening off course and toward old, well-trodden territory. Thoughts of tasting her muddied my aggression, twisting it toward lust. I almost pulled back and would have backed off had she not lifted her chin, brushing her lips against mine. It was a promise, not a kiss; the kind of wickedly gentle tease I wouldn’t have expected from her, which was why I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

  Her careful eyes searched mine, waiting for permission? A curl of anticipation licked low, shortening my breath. This was a game—a fucking game to win me over. I knew it and didn’t care.

  A crooked smile slanted across her lips. She leaned into me. Her warm, wet mouth touched mine. Her tongue teased inside and what little restraint I had fell away. I curled my arm around her back and pulled her in so close that she was all I knew and all I could think about.

  Fuck gentle.

  I sank my free hand into her hair, closed my fingers, held her still, and kissed her like I hated her. Fucked up need had my cock raging hard in seconds. This woman was fleet. She was everything I hated about the nine systems: the laws designed to stifle the people and the rules that shackled us all. I nipped at her neck and tugged her flight suit off her shoulders. She writhed against me and had her hands under my shirt before sinking them over my ass and yanking me against her. I pushed in close, briefly losing my mind as the friction of her body against mine pulsed heated pleasure all the way through me. I fought with her pants, managed to slip them over her hips, and hooked my fingers into her obscenely lacy panties.

  “Why did you get me out of Asgard?” I breathed the words against her mouth, mixing them with hot, broken kisses.

  “Because”—her fingers tugged at my fly—“you were right.”

  Pants open, she had her hand around my cock, with her thumb teasing the wet tip like her tongue might. I forgot the question, the answer, all of it. She kissed my mouth—hungry and rough—then worked her hand the way she knew I liked it. I lost myself in the numbing pleasure, in the taste of her, in the feel of her. I lost myself in her breaths in my ear and in the curve of her back as she arched into me. Fuck, if she didn’t stop, I would—

  I knocked her hand aside with a groan, tugged her panties down, slipped my hands under her ass, and lifted her at just the right angle to ease myself deep inside. I went in slow, but didn’t need to. She was slick and tight and so ready.

  “Fuck.”

  “You were right.…” she whispered again, her breath cool on my neck. She clutched at my back, hugging me close as I rocked my hips, building a rhythm. The feel of her holding me, the ripples of pleasure, her lavender smell—those were the only thoughts I wanted.

  Right about what? I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. With every thrust, the door rattled and her breathing sawed against my ear. My heart hammered, rapid and broken.

  “Faster,” she growled, nails digging in. “Harder, hijo de tu puta madre.”

  Oh, sweet fuck. I smiled against her neck. “Quit with the Spanish if you want this to last.”

  She clamped a hand on my ass and urged me into a pace that suited her. “Dios mío.”

  Building pleasure coiled like a spring about to break. Teeth gritted, I tried to hold back and failed. Sweet nothingness had hold of me now, and I let it swallow me down. Fran sank her nails in, arched back hard, and groaned through her teeth, staring at me through half-closed lashes, her plump lips parted.

  “Yo te odio,” she hissed, then stilled and let out a tight groan as her orgasm sent spasms through her.

  I pounded deep, closed my eyes, and let the blissful fucking ecstasy ride right over me. Pleasure funneled to a point, dragging me along with it until everything burst apart in those few precious seconds where nothing and nobody mattered. I tried to cling to those timeless moments, but all too soon reality flooded back in, bringing me back to the now, where I had Fran up against my cabin door, both of us slick with sweat and sex, both spent and breathing hard.

  Fuck, I’d needed that.

  I braced against the door and pulled back enough to see Fran’s flushed cheeks and hooded eyes.

  “This doesn’t change a damn thing,” I said, voice splintered.

  She clamped her lips together and frowned. “You think I fucked you to get my way?”

  I smiled. “I know you did.”

  I kissed her and tasted the frustration in her all over again. Her kiss wasn’t nearly as languid as those she’d used to try and persuade me she was still on my side. I’d take them though.

  “Any time you want to vent your frustration on me, I’ll happily oblige,” I said.

  “You think that’s what this was about?”

  I was still crowding her body against the door, which meant I felt exactly how she’d stiffened.

  “A pity fuck.” Given a little time, I’d be hard and ready all over again. “You needed it.”

  She went from domesticated to rabid so damn fast I didn’t see the slap coming. The burn of her open palm surged through my cheek, dumping my semi-languid sexed-up thoughts right out of my head. She punched her open palms into my chest and shoved me back hard enough for me to stagger into the wall.

  “You’re a real piece of work.” She tugged her clothes back into place with angry snatches. “The sort of lowlife bastard who thrives in the black. You’re beneath me, Caleb Shepperd.”

  I tucked my junk away and rubbed my flaming cheek. “And I’m perfectly happy beneath you, Fran. Any time you need it, honey.”

  “Take your fucking pirate on the job and don’t come squealing back to me when she tries to stab you in the back.” She stormed from my cabin and slammed the door shut behind her.

  If she thought she could use sex to manipulate me, she really hadn’t been paying attention during these last few years. It was a cheap move coming from her, but it told me exactly how unsettled she was, which was good. She needed to know who the captain of this ship was. As a bonus, I’d gotten one of the best fucks I’d had in months—exactly what I’d needed right before I pulled off an attack on a fleet freighter. And that slippery curl of guilt weaving a thread of unease through me? Fuck that.

  Chapter Ten: #1001

  “We’re just passing KP-Ninety-Two, Commander,” one of the freighter’s crew announced. “There is some uncharted minor debris, but we’re navigating around it without any issues. Approximate jump gate arrival time is zero-one-hundred.”

  Commander Shepperd thanked his crewman and went back to his control panel, while I drifted along the fringes of the spacious bridge. On the vast proximity sensor screen, I spotted the debris the ensign had reported, as well as the planet, its gravitational zone, and countless other observational readouts. The bridge crew consisted of six men and woman, while the remaining six were about the ship, checking cargo and running maintenance. During our trip, I’d watched them all from afar, absorbing their professionalism and fleet obedience. Commander Shepperd ran a tight ship and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. He had the respect of his crew, which was not an easy achievement for a young commander.

  He saw me watching him and straightened. “Ensign, notify me when we’re inside the jump gate zone.”

  “Yes, Commander
.”

  Bren caught my eye as he left the bridge. I followed him out and found him waiting for me. “Commander.”

  “Walk with me?” He posed it as a question, not an order. I fell into step beside him. “Your young Doctor Lloyd is a bright kid. We could use someone like him.”

  “James is the reason I’m here. The Chitec board members had me scheduled for decommissioning. He saved me, although he did have his own motives.”

  Bren listened as he strode beside me, his chin up, gaze ahead. “I wanted to speak with you about what happened on Mimir.”

  I stayed quiet, and in doing so drew Bren’s gaze to me.

  “When fleet destroyed the warehouses from orbit, I watched it happen,” he said. “They killed over five hundred people that day. The order was to destroy the weapons caches, but that wasn’t the real reason. Fleet was sending the Fenrir Nine a message.”

  “The Fenrir Nine?”

  “There are forces working against fleet, undermining the laws that hold the nine systems together. Command likes to call them rebels, but they’re more than that. The Nine aren’t a band of troublemakers. They’re a highly organized group of influential people, and fleet isn’t sure who they are or from where they operate. When they strike, fleet is always caught unawares. They have sophisticated technology and consistently outmaneuver command.”

  “To what end?” I asked. It hadn’t escaped my attention that he had referred to fleet as them, excluding himself.

  “Fleet aren’t sure.” Bren stopped midstride and faced me. “My brother was connected to the Nine, and that’s why fleet went after Caleb with undue force.”

  I held his stare. “Chitec ordered fleet to apprehend him.”

  “Yes, he believed so, and so do I. It would appear Chitec has substantial influence over fleet. Caleb-Joe tried to warn me, but I couldn’t see it. And then Mimir happened and events spiraled out of control. Fleet picked me up, ran me through the meat grinder for associating with smugglers, and put me on suspension. I lost track of Caleb and his ship for a time. His second in command, Francisca Franco, reappeared a few cycles ago on KP-ninety-two.”

  He doesn’t know he’s dead. “The mining settlement we’re currently passing?”

  “Yes. She reached out to the Candelario family. I requested this freighter run knowing it would bring me into the Svartalfheim system and closer to Francisca. Fleet were happy to send me out here and wash their hands of me.” He sighed. “One Thousand And One, I have to tell you something of importance.” He swallowed. “You’re reading all manner of warnings coming off me right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. You’re either lying or about to.”

  “I’m not lying. I just need you to understand that some things are not what they appear to be, and I hope to have your support when the time comes.”

  “I don’t have allegiances, Commander. I analyze and act accordingly in any given scenario.”

  He frowned. “That’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear.”

  “You are an asset to me. I will support you for as long as that is the case.”

  His lips parted in a silent, exasperated expression. “Well, then, I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”

  A deafening groan shuddered through the freighter, rippling beneath our feet and through the walls.

  “Damn.” Bren immediately ran for the bridge.

  “What is it?”

  “Debris,” he called back, “or pirates.”

  I followed him back onto the bridge. Alarms sounded. The observation display blinked red, and the crew buzzed about their controls.

  “Report.”

  “A starboard impact, Commander.”

  “Any breach?”

  “No, just minor damage to external antennae. We’re attempting to get a lock on the source.”

  “Recall Jones and Cole, and send them to get eyes-on. We’re in Cande territory. I don’t want any surprises. Run a scan for any unusual comm activity in the immediate vicinity and flag anything remotely off the grid.”

  James entered the bridge and stopped beside me.

  “I felt the impact. What was it?” he asked quietly while the commander and his crew relayed commands and reports.

  “I’m not sure.” I examined the proximity screen and the dozen or so blinking red markers that pinpointed the debris, one of which had struck us. “Just debris, but the commander appears to be lying. Perhaps he isn’t as sure as he’s making himself out to be.”

  I met James’s eyes and smiled. “Pirates.”

  Chapter Eleven: Caleb

  I got doubts, like any other fucker in the nine systems. When I tapped in the fleet codes, unlocked the airlock hatch, and stepped into the dazzling white freighter corridor with a crazy pirate at my back and a pissed off second in my getaway ship, I had gut-clenching, knee-weakening doubts.

  The freighter alarms were bleating the way they should be when some unknown object hits them broadside. Said object had been one of several of Starscream’s distraction buoys. We used them to dazzle pursuing ships, or in this case, poke a freighter on one side so we could board on the other.

  Ade and me made for the bridge. I took out a single crewmember with a quick crack to his skull with the butt of my pulse rifle. We snuck up on another two. I disabled one with a few well-aimed low blows and a knee to the face, while Ade choked hers unconscious.

  “Having fun yet?” Ade asked. The scarf and hood hid most of her face but couldn’t hide the glee curling through her muffled voice. Her crazy blue eyes were all I could see, and they were smiling.

  Great, my pirate is a violence junkie.

  “Let’s just get this done.”

  I adjusted my hood and scarf, shouldered my rifle, and moved on. We had to hit the crew hard and fast, using surprise as our main weapon. If they caught on to the fact that they’d been boarded, they’d seal the bridge, locking us out and creating a stalemate that we’d have no choice but to back away from. Most pirates never got within a few klicks of a freighter before their proximity alerts opened fire. We’d bypassed their main defense. The rest should be easy.

  “You trust Fran to be there when we’re done?”

  I narrowed my eyes at Ade. She grinned like a crazy bitch behind her scarf. This is the first and last time I work with a pirate.

  We rounded a right angle in the corridor and came face to face with three more crewmembers. One immediately tapped his wrist comms. Ade fired, shooting him between the eyes, then lunged for the fleet woman nearest her. The third came at me like a pro-wrestler. I twisted, managing to avoid the tackle. The kiss of a phase bullet buzzed by my head and, a fraction of a second later, the crack of suppressed fire followed.

  “Ade! What the fuck?!”

  “Sorry, Cap’n.” She had her gun propped under her opponent’s chin. “Finger slipped.”

  “Commander—” my wrestler began.

  “Oh no you don’t.” I lifted my rifle, aimed between the wrestler’s eyes, and locked glares, silencing his mayday. “Remove your comms.”

  He reluctantly obliged.

  “Kick it here.”

  He did.

  I crushed it under my boot while keeping my eyes well away from the fallen, twitching body. “My pirate friend here has an itchy trigger finger. I know you don’t wanna die over fleet cargo, so you’re going to sit next to your colleague and wait while the pirate ties you up. It’s that, or she kills you. You goin’ to behave so we can all go on about our business?”

  Wrestler sneered. “Pirate scum.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  Ade tied up her catch then did the same with mine, tugging the zip ties tight enough to hurt.

  We left them spitting insults and continued toward the bridge.

  “Don’t kill anyone unless you have to.”

  Ade grunted. “You’re a pirate now, Cale. They’ll kill you on sight. I ain’t waitin’ for that to happen.”

  I knew she was ruthless, but to see her execute a man without
so much as a blink? I may have released a monster in Ade.

  She would kill anyone in a fleet uniform, out of revenge if for no other reason. I could hear Fran’s sweet voice saying, You’re making a mistake.

  Fucking typical. My second-in-command wasn’t even here and she wouldn’t shut up.

  “The bridge.” Ade hurried ahead, rifle primed.

  I swallowed a breath, cleared my head, and followed. Maybe this would go easy. Maybe they wouldn’t fight back. Maybe it was my lucky fuckin’ day.

  Chapter Twelve: #1001

  I heard what sounded like suppressed gunfire and turned toward one of the two entry points into the bridge. James was idly chatting to my left. I blocked out his voice, blocked all input, and focused on searching out the two new voices approaching from the corridor.

  “Commander …” Something about the incoming pair triggered recognition through my systems, but I couldn’t filter the data enough to get a positive identification. I had to get closer, so I left James’s side to approach the door.

  They came through, faces hidden behind scarves, with their weapons raised. The woman’s intense gaze cut across the bridge and found her target in the commander. Her pupils dilated. Her finger twitched over the trigger. I knew that look: revenge. I lunged for the commander and shoved him down, sprawling us both across the controls. The phase bullet skimmed my shoulder and would have struck him dead in the chest.

  “Stay down,” I hissed in his ear.

  “Nobody fuckin’ move!” the male intruder announced.

  No, it’s not possible. It can’t be him. I whipped my head around. The man’s hardened gaze scanned the crew, and then settled on me and widened in alarm. Caleb.

  I knew the rhythm of his heartbeat and how his own brand of sly humor sharpened his shrewd eyes.