Hunting Kat (3 page)

“Dev’s ship undocked and left the station the minute you cleared the air locks. They’re gone.”

“The man must think he’s hilarious,” Kaitlyn fumed, striding into the hotel lobby. Boggle played the message on the data stick for her once he broke the intel. Dysnomia Station had several establishments to choose from, but the communication from Skuld indicated a two-night reservation for her here. A higher level place, catering to those who could afford luxury.

The young man behind the counter didn’t look capable of handling an enraged customer barging into the foyer. His eyes widened, darting to the right and left without meeting her glare. His scent carried the acrid tang of fear. “M-may I help you, miss?”

His hand probably hovered over the security alarm.

She took a steadying breath. This aggression toward males in general had been part of the reason Dev and Skuld set her up. Social skills, she needed to remember those, even if she didn’t need to worry about them with Boggle. Besides, she had a heart. Taking her temper out on an innocent bystander held no appeal, not when she could shred the two culprits once the ship came back into port.

Forcing her brows to relax and her lips to smooth out of a snarl, Kaitlyn slid her wrist ident under the scanner. It beeped softly, likely inaudible to human ears.

“Ah yes.” The young man’s face cleared in relief. “Miss Darah.”

He tapped a few icons on his display. “Your wrist ident is programmed with the access code. Please proceed down the hall to the lifts. You’re on the nineteenth level, room thirty-six.”

She gave him points for recovering. Modulating her voice, she managed a moderately pleasant “thanks.”

Entering the room, a quick survey took in the sumptuous king-sized bed and full bathroom. Skuld had gone all-out. The message notification blinked from the console in the sitting area.

“Now, Kat, we know you’re mad.” Dev’s image materialized on the holo projector, his expression stone-cold blank except for the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t even trying to look repentant, the jerk. She wondered what the penalty would be for killing her captain. It might be worth it. “But consider this a deception for the greater good.”

“I’ll keep up the training sessions with Chester in your place so your communications experiment won’t fall behind schedule.” Skuld’s image popped up over Dev’s shoulder. “Find yourself some nice man-flesh in uniform and take him for a tumble!”

Dev made a shooing gesture, the holo flickering in response. He must have decided to wrap up the message before Kaitlyn got well and truly worked up into a rage. “Back in two days. Your message is delivered, so take some R and R. That’s an order.”

The holo projector darkened. The sneaky bastard.

What in hell was she supposed to do for two days? And no. She refused to follow Skuld’s directions.

And how was Skuld going to simulate the communications training Kaitlyn had wrestled into the tube rat’s tiny head? Visions of borked terminals and spontaneously combusting circuit boards flashed before her eyes. The ferret’s havoc would give Skuld repair work for weeks. Course, considering this bit of misguided scheming, she had it coming to her.

Kaitlyn turned to study the duffel bag sitting at the foot of the bed. Sighing, she unsealed the seam and peered inside.

Yup. Nothing but lingerie and one change of clothing, for two days. She cursed and sent the bag flying into the far wall.

Damn it. She needed a drink.

Put enough Terran military in a bar full of mercenaries and someone was going to have an issue. Rygard sat off to the side, nursing his latest drink while keeping an eye on the casual insults being traded around the room. With exception of a small herd of techno-geeks in a private corner, the entire establishment bustled with a sea of servicemen and mercs.

A few honest working girls and cybers wove through the tables, offering what wasn’t on tap. Several other women flitted from man to man like butterflies, offering equal distraction without the associated price tag. When Rygard brushed off yet another inviting hand, DeSarto shook his head.

“You’re like a magnet, man. Why dodge them?” He knocked back the last of his drink and signaled for another, craning his neck to eye up a passing girl. “Enjoy the good life.”

Beautiful women, those butterflies, floating around the bar in expensive silks and sparkling accents, every word they whispered as artfully intended to ensnare a man as their painted eyelids and crimson-stained lips. What those butterflies took from a man cut deeper than creds from his account and left behind scars on his soul, not just his skin.

Rygard shook his head. “Maybe I don’t see what I’m looking for yet.”

“Well, you keep looking, my man. I’m going to go get some. I’ll let you know if there’s a crime scene to clean up. Ha!” DeSarto shoved away from the bar with a stumble. He took a second to right himself, and then staggered after the girl who had snagged his attention.

Hard to cut a man if he anesthetized his heart with copious amounts of alcohol.

The girl would trigger an issue. Rygard knew it right away. That particular butterfly had flitted from a pack of mercs, having been leaning against the shoulder of the largest mutt, and now stood at the bar to order a drink. Yet the smile she gave DeSarto as he came sniffing around definitely communicated a come-hither.

Butterflies and dogs. Women and men did the damndest things to each other.

Rygard signaled for another drink when the fight broke out. The bulldog merc from the table had finally noticed his missing butterfly. DeSarto moved in, fondling the goods with irreverent hands. A couple of words, some grunts and an angry bellow sparked the conflict. When several mercs from the table joined in, a couple of servicemen came to DeSarto’s aid on principle. His friend held his own without issue, even seemed to dive in with enthusiasm, so Rygard continued to enjoy his drink.

“This gets much bigger and I’m calling security.” The bartender kept a practiced eye on the brawl as it escalated. More servicemen and mercs jumped into the fray. The bar had been built sturdy, the furniture fused into the floor. Firearms were locked away in storage at the entryway, limiting fights to hand-to-hand combat.

“Give it another minute, Syn.” Rygard lifted a chin toward DeSarto. “He’s about to take down the main opposition.”

A new commotion started at the entryway. Even the techno-geeks in the corner stirred from their holo-game to peek over the booth and get a good look.

Mercs and servicemen alike fell like downed logs. It took a minute for Rygard to see what cleared a path through the minefield of fighting men, and when he did, he wondered if he’d had one drink too many.

Lightning quick, a little package of curves dodged a drunken punch, grabbed the merc’s arm and used his momentum to send him over a table. She brushed dark waves of hair out of her eyes before planting a hand in a serviceman’s back, helping him into a pile of his friends. Two other servicemen focused enough to rush her, but crouching low she delivered a powerful leg sweep. A sharp elbow to the sternum rendered each of them out of commission. Straightening, she continued her course, heading directly for Syn and the bar. By the time she made it, unconscious and groaning men lay in her wake. Her left hook was a thing of beauty, and she had a wicked right slanted kick.

The heat of her feral glare seared through Rygard as she passed, moving on when he didn’t offer any threat. Had he ever seen such a deep blue before? She chose the very last stool, sitting with her back to the wall. When she ordered a scotch, he thought he’d died and found the perfect angel.

Syn placed a glass of amber in front of her. “On the house. You saved me the trouble of calling security.”

Rygard chuckled. Men picked themselves up off the floor and it seemed they’d forgotten the whirlwind who had passed through them. A wonderfully mind-numbing thing, alcohol. They probably wouldn’t want to remember they’d gotten their asses handed to them by a pint-sized explosion of sexy anyway.

Well, maybe they would.

He watched her swirl her scotch, inhaling slowly before taking a long sip. When she set the glass down, it became obvious she would need a refill in short order.

Without lifting her face, she glanced up, her fierce gaze locking on him through a dark veil of thick, long lashes. He realized he’d better say something or she might take offense at his regard.

Lifting his drink, he nodded. “Mind if I buy you another?”

Kaitlyn studied the man for a beat before the question popped out. “Why?”

Not what he’d been expecting, probably, because he blinked, caught without a response. The light from the bar top caught gold highlights in the man’s hazel eyes. Not a pretty boy, which won him points in her book, his features too strong for the beautiful boy toy look and his build too massive. Terran military, by uniform. Skuld would call him ruggedly handsome, with the stubble across his jaw and barely regulation haircut.

He shrugged. “You look like you could use one, or more.”

True. Before she could answer, he left his stool and walked toward her. A fighter, and a fast one, despite the bulk suggested by his expansive chest and shoulders. She didn’t mistake the potential in the way he moved. Unlike the rest of the males in the room, he wasn’t inebriated to the point of slowed reaction time.

He also seemed aware of her assessment, holding his hands out to his sides in a sign of no threat as he sat on the stool next to her. His gaze never left hers. The challenge he offered had nothing to do with a fight and everything to do with her.

“Maybe.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He smiled, the flash of white almost predatory. “Maybe usually means yes.”

“Maybe means maybe,” she snapped. She didn’t like word games.

Dark eyebrows shot up and those hands opened wide again. “Okay, maybe.” He shifted to lean on the bar, not closer to her but not farther away either. “Let me know when maybe turns into a yes or a no.”

Despite her ire, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The soldier exuded a familiar charisma, an attitude she hadn’t encountered in a long time. Not since Katzer.

And wasn’t that a funny kind of ironic?

She drew in a long breath.

Anger, fear, joy, arousal, all of the strong emotions carried on the air. The scents gave her hints the panther aspect could read. They told a story. He carried them all, faint and faded with passage of time, but enough to catch her attention. And over it all, a pleasantly masculine musk blended with the smooth aroma of scotch.

Well, Dev and Skuld
had
effectively marooned her on the station for two freaking days. No use chewing on useless thoughts and wasted experiments. She could spare the time for a second drink. Besides, a long-forgotten part of her wanted to see what the soldier would do next, curious about him.

In the days before the attack on Triton, she’d never made time to flirt. Only Katzer had caught her up, made her curious enough to pay attention. And their time together had been a stolen kiss and a promise, ended with his death.

She finished her drink in a smooth pull. Too many ghosts haunting her lately. Carefully setting the glass down, she looked over to see the soldier watching with appreciation and approval.

“I guess…” What the hell did normal girls say? “Yes?”

“Sorry, can you repeat that?” He turned completely toward her, leaving himself open as he leaned in closer. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

For the first time in years, a male’s proximity didn’t set off her temper or cause a spike of fear. Instead, her pulse quickened in a few uneven skips and heat rushed to her face. Kaitlyn turned to look at her empty glass. Damn it. Girls did this all the time. She could speak, really she could. “Yes, you can buy me another.”

Silence. She peeked up. He grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Without taking his gaze off her, he jerked his head at the bartender and tapped her glass. “The lady will have another, on me, and I’ll have the same.”

She took the reprieve to focus on the bartender as she thanked him for the drink. The bartender looked from her to the soldier and then back at her. A slow smile pulled on one side of his face and he simply said, “You let me know if you need anything else.”

Great. Even the bartender found her amusing. Skuld and Dev would probably have paid to see what transpired. In fact—Kaitlyn shot a careful glance around the bar area—she wouldn’t put it past them to pay for the surveillance feed.
Fantastic.

“You going to drink it, or warm it up in your hands?”

Heat rushed across her cheeks again. His voice sounded pleasingly smooth too, a touch light, considering his heavy build. He must be younger than most soldiers she’d encountered on the edge of the solar system. Like the scotch, his voice hadn’t yet taken on the smokier tone that came with age. Lifting her glass, Kaitlyn took another sip, letting the mellow hint of toffee spread across her tongue. She liked the flavor better without the extra years.

His smile flashed readily and the spark in his eyes turned from amused to wicked in a picosec. “Mind if I have a sip while I’m waiting for mine?”

He caught Kaitlyn without words again. He’d bought her the drink, after all. She started to slide it over. He met her halfway. Warm and strong, his hand closed over hers, lifting the rim to his lips as her skin tingled under his light grip. She could have snatched her hand back, but she would’ve dropped the glass.

She turned her head away again, sure he’d laugh at her awkwardness.

Instead, he leaned a touch closer after he’d had his sip. His proximity burned all along her side, the heat of him seeping right through her uniform. One arm on the bar and the other along the back of her chair, he effectively bracketed her and every nerve vibrated with anticipation, not fear or aggression. What was he doing to her?

“Normally, men suffer bodily damage getting this close to me.” The words popped out before she could filter them. She cringed inwardly. Definitely not something a normal girl would say, especially if she wanted him to hang around.

He choked out a laugh. “I can believe that.”

She looked up, surprised when he didn’t move away. The intensity of his gaze met hers with enough force to steal her breath.