Page 3 of Tempting Jupiter
One of the crew standing guard over him gave a nod and another crewman elbowed lavender-eyes in the ribs. He huffed out a pained breath, but he stayed upright. Bandages had been wound around his middle. Blood stained the white in several places. The patches of red expanded as more blood seeped through the cloth.
The readout in Feeona’s left eye flashed UPLOAD COMPLETE.
Finally.
She sent Bug a RETURN WITH STEALTH command and shut down the link. Bug’s programming for autonomous flight was very basic, but Fee trusted it to return undetected. Most of the ship was dealing with the aftermath of their recent battle and wouldn’t notice Bug zipping past over their heads.
She stood, put her palms against her lower back, and stretched. “Hey Fitz, did you forget about me or does this mean I’m getting upgraded accommodations?” When he stomped over to stand eye to eye with her, she fluttered her lashes and gave him her best you’re-an-idiot-and-I-hate-you smile. “Anything with a mattress will do.”
“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Mattie.” The muscles around his mouth jumped with annoyance as he called her by the alias she was currently using. “You’re staying right where you are, only now you’ll have company.”
Feeona flicked a look over Fitzhew’s shoulder. The prisoner might be unconscious but he was also big.
She let her voice climb to be heard above the commotion of the crew trying to manage the prisoners. “Uh, Fitz. This cell is a little small for two.”
“It’s the only cell I’ve got, and I’m not trusting either one of you on this side of the pulse field until we reach Karona Station.” His lips pulled tight, then gave way to a grin that crept from one side of his face to the other. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” He snorted at his rhyme.
Feeona snickered. “You’re real proud of that gem, aren’t you? You do know it’s an Old Earth saying? About as ancient as stardust and ten times as common.”
The mirth slid from his face. “Back off.”
Her barb had hit the mark with more force than she’d intended. He must have heard the rhyme recently and thought he could claim it. He was always trying to appear more clever than his perfectly average IQ could support. A tiny smidge of pity knocked at the door of her hardened heart. Luckily, that door had been reinforced and welded shut. She held her hands out in surrender. “Whatever you say, Fitz.”
His face and ears turned scarlet. “I meant back off, literally. Back away from the pulse field.”
Two more of his crew took up positions just on the other side of the barrier and aimed stinger-shooters at her. She edged back into the empty corner at the foot of the bunk.
Fitzhew punched in a code on the control panel and the pulse field flickered and disappeared. The two men carrying the unconscious prisoner dragged him into the cell and dropped him. He landed half in, half out and as motionless as the dead.
The prisoner still in the hall, snarled and slammed into one of his guards as he tried to break free.
Fitz’s hand hovered over the control panel. “Hey!” He shouted to be heard over the tussle. “Cut it out or I’ll cut this one in half.”
The prisoner stilled, swaying on his feet.
“I mean it,” said Fitz. “If I turn this on maximum now, he dies.”
Lavender-eyes propped a shoulder on the corridor wall, breathing hard. Pain etched deep furrows into his unusual but appealing face. “Don’t. Hurt. Him.” There was agony in the demand and it had nothing to do with his injuries.
Fitz lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “I’d rather have him alive, but that’s up to you.”
Feeona wanted to sock Fitz and tell the soulful prisoner he didn’t need to worry. Fitz had no intention of killing either of them. It was written in his body language. She was good at reading people and she saw frustration in the tense set of his body, not rage and not cold calculation. The urge to speak up spiked, but she couldn’t get involved any more than necessary. She had other priorities and a timeline that was being blown all to hell.
She dropped her arms to her sides and rolled the worry from her shoulders, then stepped forward. She squatted down by the unconscious man’s feet and dragged his legs across the danger zone. “If I have to share my microscopic cell, fine. But can you all go the hell away now and let me get back to napping on this oh-so-comfortable metal bed?”
Fitz frowned. “Don’t be such a bitch. That bastard is an Arena Dog. If he smells that bitchiness on you when he comes around, he might get confused about whether to eat you or fuck you.”
“You’re all charm, aren’t you, Walley?” She ignored Fitzhew’s bluster and focused on the prisoner swaying in the corridor, just outside the room’s entryway.
The man’s lavender eyes had darkened and gotten impossibly larger. She could barely see any white in his eyes at all. “Help him.” The demand was soft, slipping along the floor and into her ear like the stroke of velvet. “Don’t let him die.”
Throwing his voice was a neat trick, but it couldn’t change the fact that there wasn’t much she could do. She got to her feet and met Fitz’s glare, letting no sign of her frustration show on her face or in her body language. Sometimes the icy control she’d had transfused into her veins came in handy. “Can I at least have a blanket? He’s bleeding all over the floor and I have to sleep in here.”
“Brice, toss her a blanket and the med kit.” When the crewman grabbed the kit from a compartment in the wall, Fitz stayed his movements with a hand on his arm. “Take out anything she could turn into a weapon first.”
Brice nodded and complied, then tossed it to her. Then the blanket.
“Gee thanks,” she said. “I’m not a medic, you know.”
