Page 46 of The Interstellar Rake's Irresistible Kiss
Taking one deep breath, he plunged out from behind the baffle and sprinted for a piled pyramid of crates. It wouldn’t offer much protection—
A brilliant orange blast of lethal light obliterated the pyramid.
Apparently Blackworm’s squad had turned up their death-and-destructionsetting, realizinghewasn’t a Black Hole Bride.
He jagged sideways, aiming for a small hauler used for transporting deliveries within the station. It would be too slow to serve as an escape vehicle, but it would be sturdier than crates.
From across the hangar, his crew returned fire at full strength, giving him a chance to reach the hauler. He caught a glimpse of another ensign grabbing Otlokwith Amanu’s help.
Trixie was the one shooting.
She must’ve taken Otlok’s blaster. Her delicate features were set hard and sharp as cut crystal, and the light flashing from her weapon was straight and true.
For an instant, as sometimes happened in battle, the firing paused, and in that heartbeat, their eyes met across the mayhem. Both of them acknowledging the distance was too great and theenemy too close.
Nor spoke into the dat-pad comm. “Linn, grab Trixie and get out of here. Blackworm will have already figured out where the shuttle is docked, and if he brings theGrandyaround, you’ll all be larfed.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Azthronos security will be inbound. Rendezvous with them. And don’t let Blackworm anywhere near the Earthers.”
If there was another respectful reply, he didn’t hearit.
A concussion grenade bounced toward the hauler. He had a second to throw himself backward before the explosion picked him up and tossed him even farther.
The pressure on his fatigues was like a squeezing fist, but it was his head bouncing off the deck plates that left him down and nearly out.
His ears rang hollowly. Somehow, though seemingly far away, he heard Trixie’s cry.
His name.
He turned his head awkwardly—larf it, was his painfully pounding skull even still attached to his body?—to see Amanu grab for Trixie. And miss.
His little mishkeet was speedy, he granted her that. She darted across the hangar.
Toward him.
He wanted to bellow at her, but his lungs felt emptied, as if he’d never draw another breath.
A second concussion grenade detonated where she’d been standing,demolishing the corridor to the docked shuttle. If Amanu and the others had still been there…
Too late. Trixie was almost to him, her chin thrust out as if it gave her just a little more speed. Or as if she knew he was going to yell at her for such folly as coming after him.
He managed to flip himself over—apparently his headwasstill attached—as she skidded to his side. The wreckage of thehauler had formed a little barricade, and she grabbed him to wrench him deeper into its dubious protection.
He left a smear of slick blood across the deck.
So, his head was attached, butsomething had been nicked.
Her eyes glazed as she stared at the evidence of his failure. He’d failed plenty in his life, but this was perhaps the worst, to see her despair.
But he underestimated her. Afterthat instant of hopelessness, she fumbled in the pocket of her pants—hispants—and unrolled an emergency med kit. Which was a sweet and kind gesture, just as she was sweet and kind. And also clever to have noticed that his fatigues were well supplied. But no way would the intruders give them another chance to compare scars.
Which was too bad, because he would’ve happily taken another occasion—anychance, all opportunities, every time—to show her what was in his pants.
And maybe…what was in his heart.
She’d come back for him.
