Checkmate (2 page)

“I told you I generally played it safe.”

“But not tonight.” He tapped the panel in front of him. “I’m
taking the liberty of ordering another gin for you.”

“What are you drinking?” she asked.

“Synthlan beer. I’m in a reckless groove tonight.”

“Uh-oh. Maybe I’d better get out of your way.”

“Why?” He took the beer and gin from the split tentacle that
stretched toward him holding the glasses, and passed the gin on to her. “Which
part did I fail? Tastes bad or makes you ill?”

“Neither. Yet. I just don’t know.”

“What happened to your adventurous side?”

Devonne’s head buzzed. The combination of a surprisingly
potent gin, the smoke in the place and the effect of an attractive man so close
put her off balance. Once again the answer slipped out without her consciously
framing it. “It’s considering exploring some exotic tastes.”

“Drat,” he said.

“What?”

“Let’s me out. I’m not an exotic taste at all.”

“I think I disagree with that.” Damn, she was coming on to
him. This wasn’t her. She didn’t do stuff like this…except after a long hard
month of trying to make it through a good run with a limping ship, living with
celibacy while two of her crew members were screwing each other almost daily,
followed by too much gin on top of too little food.

“I’m just another human male,” he answered.

“Not just another…”

“Better looking than most?” He made the question sound so
dry she could tell it wasn’t vanity but curiosity that sparked it.

Devonne shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s not what I meant. More
interesting. Sharper. Not many with your wit as well.”

His grin showed appealing grooves bracketing his mouth.
“Some people think that puts me in the ‘tastes bad’ category. Or maybe it’s the
‘bad taste’ category. Never quite sure which.”

“Not me. I like astringent.”

“So do I.”

“Got a name? I’m Devonne.”

“Raje. I’ve always thought—”

A Sangari male, warrior class judging by his size, squeezed
his huge, furry body between them, growling to get the barkeep’s attention. In
the process he jolted her arm, making the remnants of the gin in her glass
spray onto his fur.

Devonne’s pulse leapt. Sangari were notoriously vain about
their lush, gleaming pelts, grooming them constantly and meticulously. They also
had hair-trigger tempers.

The creature hissed its displeasure and raised an arm to
swipe at her.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Raje said, putting his hand on the
Sangari’s arm to stop the motion and draw his attention.

An angry roar preceded the warrior-male’s effort to swing
again, at Raje this time. Raje jumped down from his stool to avoid the blow and
the seat fell onto its side.

A chaos of cheers and jeers accompanied the clatter. Other
crashes resulted from people diving off chairs and under tables nearby.

“You don’t really want to start something,” Raje told him.

The Sangari disagreed vehemently with Raje’s assessment of
his state of mind. His growling speech made the words nearly incomprehensible
when he answered. “Pelt is damaged.”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Raje looked at the thick, matted fur on
the upraised arm, then yelled, “Barkeep! Got a wet rag back there?”

“That won’t fix the damage!” The creature’s roar rose
several levels in volume. “Pay for cleaning.”

“You’re joking right? This some kind of con you work on
cadets around the space academies? Or planning to work, so you’re practicing it
here? Not a good choice, pal.”

“How you want to pay?”

The barkeep handed Raje a damp cloth. Raje tried to swipe it
over the spots the gin had made on the Sangari’s thick, sleek pelt. The
warrior-male took exception to the effort with a growl that vibrated through
the room. He pushed Raje away from the bar.

Chapter Two

People raced for the exits or fell back toward the walls to
leave room for the fight they saw coming. A couple in a corner started taking
bets.

Shock rattled through Devonne’s system. The Sangari wouldn’t
be placated and Raje’s attitude wasn’t helping. “Shit,” she yelled and jumped
off her own stool. Before she could make any other move, though, a large human
woman stormed into the room from somewhere in the back. “Oh, no, you don’t,”
she shrieked. “Not in my taproom. This is a respectable establishment.” She
managed to make that pronouncement with a totally straight face, so she’d
either practiced it or managed to delude herself into believing it. “No
fighting in here.”

Neither the Sangari nor Raje paid much attention to her. The
Sangari swung one of its massive fists toward Raje, who ducked at the last
moment. His obvious hope, that the other creature would become unbalanced by
the effort, didn’t pan out. Devonne doubted he’d expected the maneuver to work,
but it was worth a try. Her pulse jumped and her throat tightened as she
watched Raje sidestep a series of bone-crushing punches.

Raje was a tall man, but also a lean one, with tough muscle
but not much bulk. He moved quickly and gracefully. Only his fast reflexes kept
him from being tromped and stomped by the Sangari, who stood almost a foot
taller and weighed probably twice as much.

The woman who was either owner or manager continued to yell
at them to stop and warned of charging for damages, but she made no attempt to
step between them or otherwise halt the fight.

Raje had a pistol holstered on his hip, but the Sangari had
a dart tube on his left arm. If Raje made any move for the gun, he’d have a
projectile in his chest or eye before his own weapon cleared the holster.

The Sangari had all the advantages in this fight, yet Raje’s
calm suggested he had some sort of ace in the hole. A weapon she couldn’t see?

She wondered if the other male honored some obscure code
that barred use of weapons if the opponent didn’t reach for one first. More
likely he was just enjoying the prospect of beating up on the human. The two
danced around in slow circles on the cleared space near the barstools,
occasionally knocking over a chair or table that got in the way. They feinted
toward each other, the Sangari swinging freely and occasionally landing a
jolting blow, while Raje managed to connect only once or twice, with punches that
had no discernible effect on the warrior-male.

As she speculated on what he was trying to do, admiration
for him also roused. Raje looked cool, confident and collected, even while
facing a much larger, stronger opponent. His lean shape moved with power and
grace, though his blows didn’t have much impact. The way his gaze flicked
around as though he searched for something in the room suggested he had a plan.
She just couldn’t figure out what it might be.

What the hell was he up to?

The Sangari was almost directly between them when Raje’s
eyes met hers with just a bare flick of a glance. It hit her then and she felt
like kicking herself. If she hadn’t been so busy admiring him, she might have
picked up on it quicker. He had an ace in the hole.

Because of her slowness, she had to wait for them to make
another complete rotation. The Sangari landed a punch to Raje’s shoulder that
sent him reeling backward. He crashed into a few cheering bystanders who
eagerly steadied him and launched him back into the fray. When he was
three-quarters of the way around, having suffered another couple of blows, she
managed to catch his eye and nod.

He wasted no time in maneuvering his opponent so that she
was directly behind him, her body shielded from view of most of the crowd by
the Sangari’s bulk. Would it be considered poor sportsmanship, she wondered as
she reached carefully for her own weapon. It shouldn’t. The creature had
attempted to assault her first. He’d then chosen to pursue a more interesting
course, taking on what he considered a more worthy opponent. Too bad for him.
He’d have to eat his own stupidity in disregarding her.

She wrapped her fingers around the pistol and used a finger
to slide the lever down to the stun setting. When she had a clear shot, she
yanked the gun from her holster, leveled it at the broad back and fired.

A brief, focused bolt of blue-white light coughed from her
weapon, hitting the creature dead square in the middle of his back. The Sangari
went down hard, folding up like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. A
four hundred-pound puppet. The thud rattled the building, knocking a few
glasses off the shelf.

Raje studied his fallen adversary for a moment then shrugged
and looked up at her with a wry grin. “Nice work. But it took you long enough.”

“Didn’t want to cut the fun short too soon.”

“Gotcha.” He sauntered over to the bar and lifted his drink,
draining it one long swallow. His eyes glinted in a way she could see even
through the smoky haze in the room. He looked around briefly and grimaced
before he brought his gaze back to her. “You hungry?”

“Depends on what kind of hunger we’re talking about.”

His dark, angled brows rose. “Food.” He kept the straight
face for a moment before a wry grin crooked his lips. “First. Dessert later.”

“Food sounds good.”

“Come on.” He pressed his thumb against the panel to pay for
their drinks and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She appreciated the gesture as they threaded their way
through the crowd. A few people—human and otherwise—stepped forward to congratulate
him or nod acknowledgement, but most just cleared out of their way.

Outside, the cooler air hit her with a bracing blast.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” she asked. “It looked like he
landed a couple of good ones on you.”

“I’ll have some bruises. You got any medicine for them?”

“Maybe later.”

His fingers tightened around her shoulder in response.
“Thanks for taking care of him.”

“Thanks for giving me the opportunity. You didn’t have to. I
appreciate it.”

“Ulterior motives. Been to Mack’s Chops?” he asked. “It’s
not far.”

“Never been. I hear the food’s good. And expensive.”

He shrugged. “I had a good haul. I’m celebrating.”

“Honored to help you then. So, how’d you come by a name like
‘Raje’?” she asked as they swung around a corner, heading for the restaurant.

“Reginald Jameson Jernigan. When I was growing up, the kids
I hung out with pronounced it ‘Ray-zhi-nald’. Eventually it got shortened to
Raje.”

“Cute.”

“Not terribly.”

She waited for him to explain, but instead he pointed at the
front of the restaurant, a few doors down. “We may be in luck,” he said. “It
doesn’t look too crowded tonight.”

They discussed the traffic on the street and the contents of
display windows in the shops they passed, most of which had already closed for
the night, until they reached the place and were seated in a quiet, cozy
corner. She noticed Raje pass a credit chip to the man seating them and
wondered how much it cost him to get this prime location away from the busiest
part of the dining area.

Once they’d ordered their meals, he leaned forward and
studied her, so she felt free to do the same. Although the lighting was soft,
it wasn’t as dim as in the bar.

She had to restrain her galloping pulse and the urge to
sigh. The general outlines of his face had suggested he was attractive. The
reality was so much more. Only a couple of old scars—a light burn at the
temple, and a thin white line running from the side of his cheek down to his
jaw—kept him from being almost classically beautiful. Strong lines of cheekbone
and jaw, perfectly shaped and sized features and large, bright eyes combined
into a form that suggested he shouldn’t ever need to resort to piracy to make a
living. The eyes were an unusual light yellow-green color that leaned toward
the yellow.

Apparently he recognized her reaction to his looks. “Don’t
say anything about it, please. I can’t help it. I was born with it.”

“What?”

“The face. I know what it looks like, and most people think
I bought it. I didn’t.”

“I’ll bet you fool most people.”

He shrugged. “It has its uses. I can be seriously charming
when I need to be and that comes in handy.”

“With women like me?”

He stared hard at her. “How much did you pay for yours?”

“You think I’d pay someone for this?”

“Why not? It’s very appealing.”

She laughed harshly. “I look in the mirror occasionally.
It’s far from perfect. And it looks a bit…lived-in.”

“Perfection is boring.” He reached across the table and ran
a finger down her cheek and jaw to her chin. “This is much more interesting.”
Tingling erupted where he touched, bursting into a trail of fireworks along the
side of her face.

Heat from it rushed all through her body. Her cunt swelled,
wanting him. It had been way too long and he was the sexiest man she’d seen in
years. She made an effort to collect herself and tamp down the reaction. At
this rate she’d be bursting into flame or dragging him under the table for a
quick hump before their dinner arrived.

“So what are you doing here?” She hoped it didn’t sound
rude, but she had to change the subject, and quickly. Besides, if he couldn’t
deal with her bluntness, they had no future.

Future? Where had that come from
? She’d known the man
for all of two hours and had no clue to what he might want other than a night’s
entertainment.

He gave no indication her forthright question bothered him.
“My ship’s getting some repairs.”

A servoid appeared with their food, and they waited while it
set the various dishes before them.

She questioned him about the circumstances of the damage,
but he managed to sidestep any specific answers. He hadn’t really answered her
original query either.

While she was framing her next question, he forestalled it
by asking, “I know it’s not polite, but I can’t help but wonder. What’s an
attractive intelligent woman like yourself doing in this business?”

It was practically the same question she’d tried to ask him.
She considered her answer carefully, wondering how much she could safely tell
him. For a moment she watched his hands as he maneuvered the food from dish to
his mouth. Strong, capable hands with long, graceful fingers. His skin was
several shades darker than hers, a warm coffee-with-cream brown, and she
envisioned those fingers touching her… Damn! She had to make an effort to
concentrate on the conversation.

“There weren’t too many choices. Subsistence farming in a
place that barely supports life or…redistribution of goods.”

The grin showed a pair of attractive grooves bracketing his
mouth. “Redistribution of goods. I’ll have to remember that.”

Oh Flames and Stars, but this wasn’t good. She wanted to see
that grin again and again. She wanted to kiss that sensual-looking mouth. She
wanted to strip off his clothes and…n
o
!

He questioned her carefully while they ate, learning about
where her people were, though not in terribly specific detail or why they were
there. They discussed their families and upbringing, again wording everything
cautiously so that neither offered enough information to endanger anyone else.

Raje ordered a fine Zegobrian wine to accompany the meal and
they drank it with the respect due an expensive vintage.

She was sure the food was good, but she had no idea what she
ate. Somehow most of it disappeared. The smooth, light burn of the wine and the
distant hum of conversation in the room made a backdrop to her awareness of
Raje and her desire for him.

They sat at the table talking for some time after they
finished the meal. She declined dessert or further drinks once the servoid had
cleared away their dishes. He paid the tab and they left.

“Walk a bit?” he asked. “I need to tamp down some of that food.
There’s a river through the old part of the city that I understand is very
pretty at night. They light it up with all kinds of stuff.”

She nodded. The evening brought a cool, bracing breeze as
they made their way along a street that sloped downward toward the riverfront.

“There’s a transport a block or so over, if you prefer,” he
offered. “But it’s not that far to walk to the river.”

“No.”

They discussed some of their more interesting business
dealings and exciting runs while they went. Devonne couldn’t help but be more
aware of the hand that held hers than the words they exchanged, though she
found the mere sound of his voice touched her somewhere deep inside.

The riverfront was every bit as intriguing and lovely as he
suggested. Where it cut through the city, the banks had been built up to
contain the water’s flow, and paved walkways lined a section of it.

She’d been on this world and in this city several times
before to get repairs done on her ship, but she’d never come down to this part
of town.

Restaurants and small shops crowded beyond the walkways on
either side of the river. To attract attention, most had arranged colorful
arrays of light on their shops. Strings of small bulbs defined rooflines,
doorways and windows, while other establishments sported huge embellishments
made of light tubes, in the shapes of flowers, amulets, historical monuments of
dozens of worlds, knotwork and every other decorative element a sentient mind
could conceive. The lights reflected in the dark running water of the river,
doubling the show.

But the bridges overshadowed even the light display on the
buildings.

There were dozens of them. It appeared that each shop and
restaurant insisted on building its own span to ensure customers on either side
of the river could reach them. And they vied with each other in making each
bridge more elaborate, fanciful or beautifully decorated than the rest. High
arches with elaborate stone or brick-work sat next to sleek polychromate carbon
spans with built-in sparkling lights or deep, radiant kaleidoscopes.