Mercenaries - Mercenaries ( Ellora's Cave) Part 1

MERCENARIES.

ANGELA KNIGHT.

CHAPTER ONE.

A damp, pudgy hand clamped around Trinity Yeager's wrist, arresting her determined stride. "You're not going into that off-worlder den of depravity dressed like that! I forbid it!"

Trin shot a cold look at the man who'd grabbed her. She was wearing black shorts and a top that wouldn't incite a pa.s.sion-starved trillite miner, but she wasn't surprised at his reaction. Like everybody else on Rapture's Colony, Gordon Lordshepherd was a religious zealot. "You don't have the authority to forbid me anything, Gordon."

He glowered at her, his round face petulant. She wondered where he'd gotten the sunburn she could see glowing through his thinning hair, since he rarely stepped foot outside the church's offices. "We're getting married next week, Trinity. And I don't think it's appropriate for my wife to..."

"We are not getting married," Trin interrupted. She was royally sick of dealing with would-be suitors who thought they could tell her what to do.

"Yes, we are." He tilted both his chins. "I've been saving my money for months. I'm going to be the high bidder."

She gritted her teeth. The colony elders intended to auction her off on her twenty-fifth birthday; a single woman, they felt, was too great a source of strife. "Well, you haven't bought me yet, so get your clammy hands off before I deck you."

Gordon clenched his free hand into a thick fist, his cold, black-pebble eyes narrowing between folds of fat. "Once we're married, you're going to learn your place."

"My place," Trin growled, "is where I say it is." She twisted her wrist until she managed to jerk free of those plump fingers. It was harder than she'd expected. He might be pudgy, but Gordon was surprisingly strong. Her fury took on a desperate edge. "And right now, my place is in there." She whirled and strode through the door of the bar, knowing her tormenter would never set foot inside.

"You come out this minute, Trinity Yeager, or you'll be sorry!" he yelled after her, his voice spiraling into a squeal. "Trin! I'll tell the Sheriff, see if I don't!"

She turned and eyed the door, afraid he'd barrel through, wrapped in sanctimonious outrage. But she'd been right; he didn't have the guts to risk being seen going into the bar.

Shepherd's Crook, she had to get off this planet before her birthday. She could handle Gordon-though she'd probably end up sentenced to a month in jail for wifely insubordination afterward. The problem was Rapture's dozen other bachelors, several of whom were much stronger and even more mean-tempered than the colony's prissy treasurer.

But they all shared the same tone of gloating of antic.i.p.ation when they talked about the auction. Apparently, her repeated refusal of every marriage proposal she'd ever received had irritated the entire lot.

The mercs were the only chance she had of avoiding the retribution of her future husband, whoever he'd turn out to be. She had to get the off-worlders to take her with them.

One way or another.

Taking a deep breath, Trin turned and surveyed the bar's dark interior. She'd never been inside; it was strictly for off-worlder use only. The elders only allowed it to exist at all because they didn't want rowdy foreigners starting brawls in local restaurants. Trin was courting a week in a prayer cell just by stepping through the door.

Her gaze was instantly attracted to a huge ruddy shaft sliding slowing between a woman's glistening v.a.g.i.n.al lips. Trin gaped.

Oh, my Shepherd!

The three-dimensional trid globe filled with fornicating actors floated in one corner of the long room. They were showing a p.o.r.nographic trid. Right there in the bar. Did the elders know?

Trin stared at the trid in hypnotized fascination. She'd lost her virginity in a furtive encounter with another teenager five years before, but it had been so painful and they'd come so close to getting caught, she hadn't dared try again. The penalty for fornication was a public whipping and five years in a prayer cell; it hadn't seemed worth it, not for so little pleasure.

But Shepherd's Crook, she didn't remember Jimmy's c.o.c.k being that big...

Focus, Trin, she told herself sternly, dragging her eyes away from the globe. You're not here to look at depraved trids. You're here for the only chance at freedom you'll ever have.

"Ohhhh!" a female voice moaned from the image. "Deeeperrrr!"

Trin's cheeks flamed. Slinking to the bar, she edged her hip onto the nearest stool, trying to keep her eyes diverted from the amazing things the handsome, very naked man was doing to his partner.

"May I take your order?" the bar asked as a trid menu appeared before her eyes. She blinked at the selection, wondering what would look suitably tough to hardened mercenaries.

"I'll have a Star Mead, please," Trin decided finally, fighting for a matter-of-fact tone as she placed her palm on the bar's surface. A blue light flashed around her hand, signaling that the computer had recorded her palm print and would debit her bank.

An opening appeared in the bar's surface, and a curving bottle thrust upward, filled with something blue and faintly phosph.o.r.escent. She accepted it and took a wary sip. The cold, bitter liquid bit into her tongue and burned its way down her esophagus. Gamely, she forced herself to swallow another foaming mouthful, hoping she wouldn't get drunk on one bottle. She needed her wits about her.

"Oh, G.o.d, your c.u.n.t is so tight and wet!"

Trin shot a glance at the trid. Jimmy definitely hadn't been that big. Or flexible. Or imaginative.

As she swallowed and looked away, she saw the mercenaries. Two of them, both male, sat at a small table rimmed in glowtubes that cast the only illumination in the room. A small forest of bottles stood between them; they must be well and truly launched.

Launched or not, though, they were built. Even the matte-black half-armor they wore couldn't conceal the hard slabs of brawn that lay along chest and thighs and powerful arms. Trin felt a wickedly sensual interest steal through her.

Stop that! she told her stirring libido. The last thing she could afford was to mix s.e.x into this.

As she watched, the blond threw back his head and boomed out a laugh. To Trin's shock, she realized he wore his hair as long as a woman's. It flowed halfway down his back in a stream of molten gold that matched the short goatee framing his mouth. Yet as she gazed at him in scandalized fascination, she realized the thick mane actually enhanced his masculinity rather than detracted from it. Otherwise, his broad, angular face and square jaw would have seemed too hard, too aggressive. As it was, he reminded her somehow of an archangel, one of the martial kind who carried swords.

Then his full mouth curled into a smile so wicked and knowing, Trin revised that conclusion. If the man looked like an angel, it was one G.o.d had kicked out of heaven. And that carnal grin made it clear why He'd had to do it.

The other mercenary sat back in his chair, drawing her attention with the way he settled into a long-legged, arrogantly male sprawl. He was as dark as his partner was blond, and his hair was cropped so ruthlessly short it stood up in a black pelt. He wasn't anywhere near as pretty as his friend, either. His face was narrow, the bone structure a little rougher and less refined, with a long nose and thick brows that drew low over deep-set blue eyes. And his mouth made her feel downright uneasy. The upper lip was narrow and curving, while the lower was full, sensual. He looked cruel, Trin decided warily. Yet there was an air about him, an indefinable something that made her acutely aware of being female.

"Oh, G.o.d," the trid actress breathed, "you're so hard, so thiiiick..."

Trin blinked and licked her lips. According to what Chast.i.ty had said, one of the men was the mercenary captain. She was going to have to approach them and somehow convince him to give her a chance. And she was scared to death.

Because somehow she just knew the captain wasn't the handsome, laughing blond. It was the dark one. The cruel one.

Trin wasn't sure what scared her more: the idea that he'd turn her down-or the thought that he just might take her on. She wasn't at all sure she could handle him.

But he looked like he was more than capable of handling her.

CHAPTER TWO.

Captain Nathan August took another sip of his Star Mead as he sprawled at his table listening to his internal com unit.

"We won't have any trouble filling the order for the 10,000 crates of rations," said the Rapture Colony broker over his computer implant. "I've scheduled a cargo transport to make the delivery at 0800 tomorrow."

"Sounds good," Nathan commed back, the implant transmitting his mental reply to the other man. "We'll be looking for it."

"G.o.d's blessings on you, Captain. And may He guide you away from the path of sin and death you now follow."

Nathan gritted his teeth and reminded himself again just how low the Starrunner's rations were. "August out." His comp disconnected. Nathan looked over at his executive officer and glowered. "Why is the only source of rations in six pa.r.s.ecs a planet inhabited by religious lunatics?"

Sebastian Cole grinned lazily. "Maybe G.o.d's trying to tell you something."

"Kiss my a.s.s."

"Sorry, you're not my type." He angled his blond head toward the bar and raised a brow. "Now, she, on the other hand..."

Nathan followed his gaze to the little redhead colonist who perched on a barstool across the room. She was staring at them as if afraid they'd eat her.

Which wasn't a bad idea.

The black shorts and singlet she wore displayed a long, lean, lightly muscled body with the shimmering tan of someone who spent most of her time outdoors. By contrast, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s mounded under that tight shirt in deliciously ample handfuls. Nathan found himself wondering whether her nipples were the pretty pink of other redheads he'd enjoyed. He wouldn't mind finding out.

Normally that thought would be his cue to go seduce her, but there was something about the little colonist that kept him in his seat. Not that she wasn't pretty. Those eyes were positively striking-big and green, set off by arching brows and long lashes. The rest of her gently rounded face was just as attractive, with its pointed chin and slim, straight nose.

But what really got his attention was her deliciously erotic mouth. He'd love to watch his c.o.c.k ease between those blushing lips as she slowly suckled him.

Then there was the hair-shimmering copper shot with gold highlights, all neatly coiled in an intricate arrangement on top of her head. An image flashed through Nathan's mind: the pretty colonist, lush, tanned and naked, spread out on top of that fiery mane as it spilled across his bed.

If only she didn't look so d.a.m.ned innocent. She had to be in her twenties, but something about her shouted Keep off the virgin! On any other world, he'd a.s.sume the impression was an illusion created by those big, soft eyes. However, given the zealotry of Rapture Colony, it was entirely possible Red was as untouched as she looked.

Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling heat spin into his groin as that thought aroused a certain predatory protectiveness, a yen to guard her from every other man while simultaneously corrupting the h.e.l.l out of her himself. Down boy, he told himself sternly. You don't play your kind of games with a virgin.

Now, an experienced redheaded submissive with innocent green eyes and a taste for bondage... G.o.d, there was an arousing thought.

"Mmm," Sebastian commed, eying her with lecherous interest. "Captain, mind if we invade this tight-a.s.sed colony? I see somebody I want to take prisoner."

Nathan grinned, not even remotely surprised his friend was thinking the same thing he was. "She'd probably just lie there and pray the entire time you were trying to seduce her."

"Not if I gagged her first." Sebastian dipped one lid in a lascivious wink. "Preferably with my d.i.c.k."

"a.s.shole."

"Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't imagining her hogtied, naked and begging for more."

"It's a thought," Nathan admitted. "But she's not exactly in our weight cla.s.s."

Just then, she slid off her stool and started toward them, head up and shoulders back.

"Maybe not, boss," Sebastian commed, "but does she know that?"

Nathan blinked. That stiff-legged march would have made anybody else look awkward as h.e.l.l, but there was a delicious little feminine sway and jiggle in every movement of the little colonist's tempting body.

d.a.m.n, she was giving him a hard-on.

Even through the fog of alcohol and l.u.s.t that surrounded him, he felt a flicker of wariness. What the h.e.l.l did she want, anyway?

Unless... His imagination instantly went into overdrive. Maybe she wasn't a virgin. Maybe she really was one of those women who had a thing for mercs, who craved rough, dominant s.e.x.

And there was nothing Nathan loved more than obliging females with that particular kink. If Red turned out to be a closet submissive, he was going to have her stripped, tied up and stuffed full of c.o.c.k before she had time to get the come-on out of her mouth.

It had been way, way too long since he'd played "rape the captive" with a pretty sub.

Red stopped beside the table and looked down at them, her green eyes wide and wary. She licked those lush lips, obviously trying to work up the guts for whatever kinky request she had in mind. Nathan felt his p.r.i.c.k going hard and hot as a cheap blazer pistol.

"G.o.d's blessings on you," she said nervously. "I'm Trinity Yeager."

He nodded, trying to paste a polite, professional expression on his face-at least until he knew what she wanted. "Captain Nathan August of the Starrunner." He gestured at his friend, ignoring the blond's knowing grin. "My executive officer, Sebastian Cole. What can we do for you?" And would it, please G.o.d, happen to involve cable restraints and a fantasy about vicious, well-hung mercenaries?

He probably shouldn't have had that last mead.

"Happy to meet you. I, uh ... I was wondering ..." Breaking off, Red swallowed and tried again. "Are you...? I want..."

"Yes?" Nathan prompted, and was faintly embarra.s.sed at the hot purr of antic.i.p.ation in his own voice. He ordinarily had more subtlety.

Encouraged, she blurted, "I want to be a mercenary. I'm interested in joining your crew."

He stared at her, stunned, his alcohol-fuzzed brain struggling to follow the abrupt conversational detour.

Sebastian roared with laughter. The hopeful smile faded from her face as she looked over at him, hurt growing in her green eyes.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry," the blond gasped. "I'm not laughing at you."

Nathan, knowing exactly whom his friend was laughing at, kicked him viciously under the table. Sebastian only hooted louder.

When his executive officer's howls finally subsided into wheezes, Nathan said coolly, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's out of the question."

He expected her to instantly back down from his chill, forbidding tone. Instead she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders even more. She probably had no idea of how that movement drew male attention to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And Nathan was already far too aware of those pretty t.i.ts as it was. "I'm in good physical shape, Captain. I really am stronger than I look."

"Oh, yeah," Sebastian commed to Nathan. "I'll bet she has a real tight grip."

"If she does, you won't be finding out." The captain shot his second a withering glare that made him sit back in his seat, fighting to school his face into something other than a smirk.

Sebastian quelled, Nathan turned his attention to Red's hopeful face. "Whatever your physical abilities, you're not a cyborg, Ms. Yeager," he said. "The rest of the crew have nanotech enhancements that make them far stronger than a human could ever hope to be. " He hoped she hadn't noticed the slight slur in "nanotech." That last mead really had been a bad idea.

She leaned forward to rest her palms on the table. He struggled to keep his gaze from drifting to the hint of cleavage displayed by the singlet's neckline. "I realize that. I plan to get nanotech implants myself as soon as I can save the funds."

d.a.m.n, he was not in the mood for this. "Why-so you can kill people? That's what mercenaries do, Ms. Yeager. We're killers. We hire out our ships and our bodies to the highest bidder. Is that what you want?"

"And if so, can I make a bid?" Sebastian commed.

"I," Nathan told him, thoroughly out of patience, "am going to kick your a.s.s the minute we get back to the ship."