The Admiral and the Wildcat: Scifi Alien Romance (2 page)

A
dmiral Gabriel Buchanan
, Alliance Fleet Judge Advocate General and one of the most feared men in the galaxy, sighed with relief as they reached the docking corridor his transport was on. Thank heavens, he might actually kill for a decent cup of coffee right about now. His steps sped up, the sound eaten up by the thick carpet in the VIP docking area.

In line with his rank, the transport was sleek lines and luxury furnishings. He couldn’t have given a shit, really. All he needed was a place to park his ass while they transferred him from base to the ship transporting him to his next destination and whatever courtroom he’d end up in. But the fleet was particular about these things, as it was about the security detail around him.

There had apparently been a few death threats the Intel boys had decided were a little more credible than the usual loon that threatened to off him, so now he had six marines in formation around him. As of yet, not one of them had cracked a smile. He’d seriously considered farting in the lift just to see if one would snigger.

“The files for the Yarro’cliss case are downloaded to your data-flex, and I sent those reports to Major Kantz as requested. He says give him a couple of days and he should have something for you.” His assistant, Dan, kept up a running commentary as they walked, the younger man’s long stride easily keeping pace with Gabe’s. It was the real reason his assistants were usually male. Not, as many people thought, because he was a bitter divorcee, which he was, but because he’d quickly gotten sick of waiting for female assistants to catch up.

Not that the woman walking at the front of the group had any problems. Slender, with masses of blonde hair tucked up into a pleat at the back of her head, Gabe had to admit the fleet skirt variant uniform looked good on her. Very good indeed. The knee-high boots that looked clunky on some women hugged her calves nicely, and the glimpse of thigh between them and the hem of her skirt had all his male instincts sitting up and taking notice.

Wearing the skirt longer than most, the cut of her uniform jacket was fitted but not skin tight, which interested him. She had a cracking figure but her whole appearance was understated, as though she didn’t realise what a knockout she was, or didn’t care. Unusual.

She’d introduced herself as the base’s hospitality officer but damned if he could remember her name, or whether he’d seen her at the orientation meeting when he’d arrived. No, he decided, nodding when Dan paused and looked at him questioningly, he’d have remembered a face and figure like that.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

Dan beamed at the praise, but just as quickly went back to tapping the flex pad in his hand, his attention on that instead of their surroundings. They reached the short corridor to the transport shuttle and the door swished shut behind them.

The cute blonde in front of them turned. Gabe smiled, plans to swing back this way after his next case for a long weekend forming in his mind, but the hard look on her face stopped him in his tracks. Then he clocked the snub-nosed energy pistol in her hand and instinct took over. Throwing himself to the side, he shoved Dan out of the way. The gun spat three times, bolts sizzling in the air to drop half the guards in a heartbeat.

Gabe winced, instinctive concern for the woman rushing to the fore. He didn’t know what her deal was, or why she would attack an admiral, but he had to feel sorry for her. The guards, all marine trained, would make mincemeat of her. They yelled as they rushed her but she didn’t bat an eyelid. The fight was fast and furious, and within seconds it was obvious the marines didn’t stand a chance.

Four moves and she dropped two to the floor, both dead or out for the count. The third swung for her with an extendable baton. The rod broke over her forearm with a sickening crack but she didn’t flinch, instead wrapping the guy up and slamming a couple of solid knee strikes into his gut.

Gabe grabbed for the pistol in the belt loop of the guard on the floor in front of him. Despite his current be-suited state of dress, he’d spent the early part of his career in a marine uniform. A body didn’t forget service like that.

“Freeze right there, sweetheart.”

Hand steady, he took aim right between blondie’s eyes. He wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. Pity, she was hot as hell, even fighting like that. Especially fighting like that. Fuck, there was something wrong with him if the only woman that got his cock interested was trying to kill him.

“Now, you want to tell me who you’re working for?”

She arched her eyebrow, her gaze direct. She had blue-grey eyes. Mysterious and alluring.

She flicked a glance down to the pistol. “Try it if you like, handsome. Unless you have it on the highest setting, all you’ll do is piss me off. But my gut tells me you’re not going to shoot.”

He thumbed the setting without taking his eyes off her. It was already set on high. “Mighty confident there for a woman who just killed five fleet marines.”

Her lips quirked. “Might want to check your little friends, handsome. They’ll have headaches and bruised pride but I didn’t damage them too badly.” Reaching up, she pressed the hollow under her ear in a gesture he recognised. Sub-dermal communications device.

His eyes narrowed. Sub-derms were more common for combat personnel than infiltration. His expression set, agile mind already working out the clues. This looked like a security test. A very violent one.

“Colonel? It’s Vann. Yeah, it’s done. Little to no resistance. These guys certainly weren’t up to the job.” She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s too happy at the moment… Sure, I’ll bring him in. Then he’s all yours.”

She cut the link and addressed him, confirming his suspicions. “Colonel Rhade sends her regards and asks that you accompany me to the
Renegade
where she’ll have a properly trained security detail waiting for you.”

The guard next to him chose that moment to groan, further proof that the woman was on the level.

Anger surged. Arita Rhade headed Section Three, a secretive special forces group, and was a total pain in his ass at times. Like now. That this gorgeous hottie was one of hers pissed him off even further. Fuck, he’d been planning to wine and dine her, seduce her into his bed—a place he never wanted one of Rhade’s group. Pillow talk with an admiral was just the kind of asset Rhade would like. An asset he never intended to give her.

Gabe slid a look toward Dan, who had just risen to his feet from where he’d been shoved.

“Organise some medics to deal with these guys, and make sure they’re well looked after,” he ordered, his voice crisp. “I’ll send a transport back to you when I’ve dealt with Rhade. You,” he looked at the woman in front of him, “name, rank and identification number.”

“Name’s Vann, but you’re on a hiding to nothing on the last two.” She laughed—actually laughed at him—and started to undo her jacket. Gabe’s fury hit fever pitch. He seriously considered taking the settings on the pistol down a touch and shooting her.

“I don’t think your
boss
,” he sneered the word, “gave you all the right info, sweetcheeks. I’m Admiral Gabriel Buchanan, Alliance Fleet Judge Advocate General.” He felt like a dick using his full rank but her impudence irritated him beyond measure, especially as she’d just made a fool of him. “Which makes me your superior officer, whichever way you cut it.”

Even so, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she opened her jacket, shrugging her shoulders and sliding it down her arms. Arms that were covered in distinctive loops and swirls inked into the skin.

“Holy crap, she’s a Saragosian,” Dan breathed, watching awe-struck as she used the uniform jacket to wipe the makeup off of her hands. Her lips were twisted in distaste, as though she didn’t like the tattoos there to be covered. Which made sense. Gabe had met a few Saragosians before, and he knew the tattoos were unique to each person. They told the life story of the warrior who wore them for anyone who could read Saragosian script. He couldn’t, but he sure as hell wished he could now.

Warrior. His protective instincts all rushed to the fore when he thought of the slender woman in front of him in battle. All the Saragosian warriors he knew were men, and as hard as nails…but he’d never thought of a woman doing what they did. With the way her arms and hands were decorated, she must have.

“Lead Warrior Vann, reporting for duty, sir.” She taunted him with the last word and the snappy salute. “Here on orders of my Warlord as a favour to your Colonel Rhade. Now, times a wasting, so shall we?” She stepped back and indicated the shuttle behind her. “Or do I have to knock you out and carry you aboard?”

K
elis hadn’t wanted
to take on a fleet job, but neither her father nor Colonel Rhade had mentioned just how hot her charge would be. She followed Admiral Buchanan into the elegant yacht and watched him stomp around the small rooms out of the corner of her eye.

Human, he was tall, broad-shouldered and way younger than she’d expected a man of his rank to be. With a lean build, he apparently worked out, his chiselled features were worthy of any holo-model or actor. Just the sort of look she’d seen women of other species swoon over. She’d never really understood that, not grasping the appeal of the primped and preened models. They wouldn’t last five minutes in any kind of combat. But the admiral was different. He had a hardness in his manner that caused all sorts of unusual reactions deep inside her.

“Rhade! I don’t care,” he snapped, his voice full of anger. “I will not walk into court with a full fucking bodyguard detail.”

Kelis moved past him, nodding to the pilot to get them underway and generally making sure the yacht was locked down tight. Since she’d gotten rid of his protection detail, she was it until they reached the
Renegade
and he picked up Colonel Rhade’s team.

She’d met them briefly. Hard-faced soldiers who looked like they could eat bulkhead and piss plasma fire. Mostly human, she’d dismissed them in a heartbeat. She could take any of them, even on a bad day. By the way they’d avoided her as soon as they’d gotten a look at her ink, they knew it as well.

“No. No. Of course, I don’t want to put others in danger.”

The admiral paced when he was pissed off, long strides taking him through the three central rooms of the yacht and back again. The dividers were pulled back at the moment, but when in place they could create a bedroom, a meeting room and a lounge area. The head was tucked away halfway down the yacht, to one side. Since he’d paused in the doorway, a look of annoyance on his face, Kelis didn’t try and get past him.

Instead, she pulled her pack from where she’d hidden it earlier. Breaking onto the admiral’s yacht had been ridiculously easy, another thing that would be in her report for the colonel. It shouldn’t be as easy to get to a flag officer, particularly one as influential as Buchanan, as she’d found it.

Dumping the pack on the nearby bench seat, she pulled out her combats and a vest top. Now that her disguise was shot, she didn’t need to wear the uniform. Besides—she cast a glance to where Buchanan was still arguing with Rhade over the comm—she didn’t trust Admiral Legal-beagle over there not to slap her with a charge of impersonating a fleet officer. Not that she gave a shit. If she were arrested and thrown in a cell, her father and the other Saragosian Warlords would just lean on the fleet until they gave her up. As mighty as the Alliance Fleet was, it couldn’t field an army big enough to take on a Saragosian war-group. They weren’t just mean, after centuries of war hardening them, they were lethal. And the fleet knew it. It’s why they brought in Wildcats to do their dirty work most of the time.

Pulling the shirt over her head, she dropped it and grabbed her vest. She hated to cover her arms, to cover her ink totally. Yeah, she wore the bracer to stop idiots like Deln trying to get into her pants based on her bloodline, but even with the straps for it over her wrist and arm, the rest of her ink was still visible. It was more than just decoration. It was her identity. As she pulled a vest over her head, the slogan on the front caught her eye and her lips quirked. Yeah, she’d proved “Wildcats do it better.”

Unzipping the boots, she wriggled her toes in relief before reaching for the zip on the skirt. She didn’t clock the silence behind her until the skirt hit the floor. Feeling attention on her, she turned to look over her shoulder. The admiral stood behind her, looking like a Hasang that had been lamped. Stifling a grin, she winked and reached for her combats.

He had to be what, mid-thirties… If he hadn’t seen a woman half naked before, then he seriously needed to get laid. Perhaps she should take him back to Deep Space Sixteen. There was a significant Saragosian presence there. Surely one of the Wildcat women would be happy to put him through his paces. Jealousy and anger surged out of nowhere, blindsiding her more effectively than any Satagosian patrol she’d ever encountered. A wave strong enough to steal her breath and make her hands shake as she pulled on her combats.

If any saragosian woman so much as looked at him sideways, Kelis would drag her into a challenge ring and give her the beating of her life. Sure, she’d lost to her father in the ring. Her Father. A veteran of the war. A warlord. The only saragosian female with that sort of training was the Regas Clan Warlord, Dal. If she wanted him… Kelis shoved her feet into her combat boots. Yeah, she’d have a crack at Dal Regas as well. Probably get her ass kicked for her troubles, but sometimes a woman had to do what a woman had to do.

“Do you often strip in public?” Buchanan’s voice was deep with a controlled note that sent a shiver down her spine. He was pissed. She knew that from his conversation with Rhade, but this was something new.

“Live in a trench long enough, the concept of privacy disappears. Why? I wouldn’t have tagged you for a prude.” She shrugged, turning around.

“No, no…I didn’t mean you, Rhade.” His attention was on her, but he was still talking to the colonel, she realised. She hid her amusement that he’d blurted out the question when he obviously hadn’t meant to. So Admiral Cool wasn’t as collected as he appeared. Interesting.