Page 41 of Alien Mercenary's Wife
"Two. They're a throuple. Multiple marriage isn't uncommon in the galaxy—sometimes more than three, depending on species and culture." He shrugged at her surprised expression. "Love's complicated out here."
"Prison, royalty, mercenaries." She shook her head with what might have been amusement. "That's quite a combination."
"Everyone's got a past. What matters is what they do with their future." He met her eyes directly. "Besides, half my crew's wanted by someone. Glass houses and all that."
The easy acceptance in his voice seemed to catch her off-guard.
"What about you?" he asked. "Any family out there?"
"Parents who had children out of obligation, not love. Military was the first place I ever felt like I belonged." She paused, vulnerability flickering across her features. "Until my body decided to betray me."
"Your body didn't betray you. Defective equipment did." The words came out harder than intended. If he could get hold of the assholes who had done this to her, he'd rip them limb from limb. "You're not broken, Reese. You're injured. There's a difference."
The way she looked at him then—surprise and something deeper, warmer—made the air between them shift. Tension built like static before a storm, electric and dangerous and impossible to ignore.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For saying that. For meaning it."
She looked away, not embarrassed but almost uncomfortable, like she wasn't used to someone defending her. He got the feeling that no one had protected her before, and that realization made all his protective instincts flare. Badly.
"Of course I mean it. You're strong as hell, beautiful, and even hurt, you handled yourself well under fire. What's not to?—"
His comm unit erupted with the sharp trill of an emergency signal, and he reached for the device instantly.
"T'Raal."
"Boss, we've got a problem." Red's tone made him straighten. "Long-range sensors picked up Blood Core signatures. Two ships, heavy configuration, running intercept courses."
"ETA?"
"An hour to weapons range. Maybe less if they're pushing their engines."
T'Raal was already standing. The Blood Core were another mercenary group vying with the Warborne and the Reapers for top billing, but they were way more ruthless and bloodthirsty than either. Which shouldn't have been possible, but the Core had no morals or standards that anyone could work out.
"Wake everyone. Full alert." He caught Reese's eyes across the table, noting how quickly she'd shifted from vulnerable woman to alert soldier. "We're about to have company."
"Copy that, boss. Red out."
The comm fell silent.
"Blood Core?" Reese asked, already moving toward the corridor.
"Mercenary unit. Different league entirely." T'Raal gathered his gear with practiced efficiency. "They don't operate by the same rules we do."
"Hostile?"
"Unknown. Could be coincidence, could be trouble. Either way, we prepare for the worst and hope for something better."
11
"Alpha Section, adjust bearing two degrees starboard," she ordered, cutting through the tactical comm chatter with practiced authority. The neural implants hummed smoothly against her skull, translating thought into action with the fluid precision that made Scorperio units the most feared combat force in human space.
Through her Scorperio's visual display, she watched her three sections spread across the urban combat zone in perfect formation. Bravo and Charlie sections disappeared behind building clusters, their heat signatures glowing on her tactical overlay like scattered stars. Alpha remained in direct line of sight, six massive war machines picking their way through rubble-strewn streets with mechanical grace.
"Captain Payne," Rodriguez's voice crackled through the comm. "Reading elevated electromagnetic signatures two klicks northwest. Recommend investigation."
The intel had been perfect. Too perfect, she realized now. The facility had minimal security, and the enemy had been caught off guard. Her neural implants should have beenscreaming warnings, but the data streams flowing through her enhanced consciousness painted a picture of tactical opportunity rather than a trap.
"Copy that, Rodriguez. Maintain current heading." She turned her Scorperio's massive frame toward the anomaly, servos whining as tons of armored metal responded to her thought commands. "Ryans, Nilsson, hold position and provide overwatch."
