Thief (6 page)

“Oh, you mean before you bought me as your cook-whore? Well, that’s a tall order. What part, exactly, did you want me to tell them? The part where you even the score or the part where I’m humbled?”

She moved to his side and stood at attention with a stony expression on her face. Jace wondered why she felt a need to antagonize him. He’d expected a lot more gratitude and far less attitude.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make
you
look bad in the telling.” Kraft tossed her bound hair over her shoulder and straightened her borrowed clothes. “I look bad enough to blind even the most jaded eye.”

Jace crossed his arms and let out a longsuffering sigh. “Would you please just tell them who you are.”

“Once upon a time I was captain of a ship called
Whisper
.”

“Captain?” Charissa asked, gazing at Kraft with disbelief.

“Yeah, a bad one.” Heller brayed laughter and chunks of food flew from his mouth to the table.

“Really, Heller?” Garrett asked from the other end of the table. “Did you have a lapse of memory about standing down?”

“That bitch—”

“Captain Kraft could have killed all three of us from the hallway,” Jace calmly pointed out. “She didn’t. Had she been so inclined, Heller, she could have killed us the moment we entered by shutting off the air and locking down the Basic until we suffocated. She didn’t. Because of her code, we’re alive right now. Captain Kraft treated us honorably, and she will be accorded the same.”

Surprise and confusion darted across Kraft’s face. Did she honestly think he would treat her in any other way?

“I have to call her Captain Kraft?” Heller squawked.

“You will address her as Kraft. She will address you as Heller, and she will address me as Captain Lawless.” He hoped that would define the lines of authority for everyone.

“Call me Garrett.” He tipped an imaginary hat Kraft’s way.

“I’m Charissa, I saw you when you first got—”

Payton cut her daughter off. “I prefer to be called Payton.”

“I’m the pilot, Bailey.”

Kraft nodded at each of them, then turned a speculative, stripping gaze on Jace. He couldn’t believe how much he wanted to lose himself in the depths of her obsidian eyes.

“Oh, I get it! You’re the woman from that derelict Basic ship!” Charissa’s youthful face lit up when she figured it out.

“Captain Kraft, at your—ah, right, just call me Kraft.” Her stare met his with sudden intensity. “Can’t have two captains on the same ship. Causes confusion. I’m just a cook.”

“And whore,” Heller reminded.

“We’ll see,” Kraft said, gaze pinned to Jace.

Did she think he intended to make her cook
and
whore for him? If she could read him so well, she should know that he would never… Maybe that’s why she pulled away from his touch. Perhaps she read something ugly in him, a bestial animal part of him that wanted her below his sweaty, thrusting body. What man wouldn’t? But he would never act on that feeling, and certainly, he would never
force
her.

“What happened after you left the Basic?” Jace asked partly out of curiosity, but more to distract himself from his wayward thoughts.

“How did I fall to the flesh trade?” She laughed. “Well, girls oft go wrong, bad parenting I suppose, and being of wayward youth—”

“Answer. My. Question.” Jace spaced the words out with a slow, deliberate tone. He began to suspect the real problem was Kraft didn’t know how
not
to be in charge of a situation. If she thought he would give up control to her, she was in for a big surprise. This was his ship and his crew and he was in charge.

Reluctantly, she lowered her face. “It’s not a good dinner time tale, Captain Lawless.” She flicked her gaze to Charissa, Bailey and Payton. “Not suitable for your crew.”

“Report.” His imperious captain tone made her stand at attention.

“
Whisper
didn’t get far. A Trifecta pinned us. We refused to stand down.” She swallowed hard. “I refused to order my crew to stand down. Only Bavin and I survived. Bavin didn’t last long with the crew. She killed herself. The Randoms decided I might be worth something on the black market. They were right.”

Charissa, Payton and Bailey exchanged horrified glances, and Jace now understood Kraft’s reluctance. He knew they were shocked by the tale itself, but also Kraft’s emotionless telling. They didn’t understand she had to do it this way. By reporting facts, terse and to the point, she blocked the emotional pain.

“Trickster’s leer damn near split his head in two when he saw me all trussed up. I figured he’d have a go at me, but, like the Randoms, he only kept me drugged. He saved me. For you.”

“Did he.” Not surprised, Jace kept his place at the head of the dinner table as he considered her over his shoulder.

“He knew you would buy a cook. Once the drugs wore off—”

“He figured you might kill me to get control of my ship,” Jace finished softly.

Kraft gave a terse nod. “I thought the man hated me, but it pales beside how he despises you.”

Jace found cold comfort in being right about Trickster’s ulterior motives for selling Kraft to him so cheaply. It seemed that Trickster would never forgive Jace for refusing to be one of his minions. Despite the lure of oodles of money, first-rate food and plenty of beautiful and willing women, Jace kept his ship and himself independent. Obviously, Trickster still hadn’t gotten over the perceived slight, and probably never would. Likely, Kraft had a similar combative relationship with Trickster.

“Is that something you’re likely to do?” Charissa bit her lower lip as she glanced up at Kraft, and then across the table to Jace.

“I don’t turn on those who do right by me.” Kraft looked long and hard at Jace. “I’ve got no reason to hurt Captain Lawless.”

“Yet,” Heller said.

The threat of it hung in the air. Once again Jace considered getting a muzzle for Heller’s big mouth. Then again, a cattle prod was looking mighty good too.

“Tell you what, I’ve got no reason to hurt you either, but that’s changing fast.” Kraft cut Heller a razor gaze.

Heller threw down his fork. “You wanna go?” He stood, kicked his chair away and puffed out his chest. The fool had a foot in height and a good two hundred pounds of muscle on her. Stupidly, he thought that was enough. If Jace actually let them fight, Heller would be picking his teeth out of the worn neospring floor.

“If you really want to dance with me, Heller, I’d be thrilled to accommodate you.” With practiced precision, Kraft dropped into a fighting stance. Bare handed, she could take over the whole ship. All she needed was a reason, and Heller seemed determined to give her one.

Jace stood. “Enough.” He wedged himself between them.

“You got used by a whole crew of men,” Heller grunted, sidestepping Jace. Lewdly, he yanked the front of his black enotex pants. “What makes you think I won’t—”

Jace punched Heller square in the face.

Heller timbered as his nose exploded crimson. The floor reverberated then went still. Blood oozed from between his fingers as he clutched his broken nose.

“I know you won’t.” Jace leaned close. “Because I’m telling you, you won’t.”

Heller spewed out swearwords like vomit. “Just because you’re a eunuch doesn’t mean I am!”

“Are. We. Clear?” Jace punctuated the question with lifted brows. He hadn’t mastered Kraft’s stare-down technique, and he didn’t have a cattle prod, but a classic knock to the nose followed up with clear intent often worked wonders.

“Yeah.” Heller cupped his nose as he stumbled to his feet. “Wouldn’t want her anyway.”

“It’s mutual.” Kraft relaxed her fighting stance.

Jace shot her a reproving glance, and she clamped her mouth shut even though it took her quite an effort. Clearly, she didn’t like the idea of anyone fighting her battles but her.

Holding his nose with one hand, Heller smashed his head into the short kitchen doorway on his way out. He swore up another streak, ducked, then clomped away swearing a profuse and uncreative stream of obscenity. Normally, Jace would remind Heller not to curse, but now wasn’t the time.

“Payton, tend to that, if you would.” He moved his gaze and chin from Payton to the doorway Heller exited. “Charissa, please find Kraft a place to bunk up on the lower deck. Everyone, let’s all try real hard to get along.”

Chapter Eight

Arranging things in the sparsely furnished room, humming
Lonesome Road
absently, Charissa showed Kraft around her new bunk on the lower deck. Charissa and her mother had the two rooms across the hall. All the men had bunks on the upper deck, near the bridge.

The room was about twelve by nine, with a small bathroom and an even smaller closet. Not that it mattered. Kraft didn’t have anything to put in the closet anyway.

“You wouldn’t hurt Captain Jace, right?” Charissa looked almost exactly like her mother Payton, but her hair was more of a brown-blond and her green eyes swam with innocence.

“You don’t know me, and I don’t know you.” Kraft plunked herself down on the narrow bunk—hard as freeze-dried bread. “If I tell you the truth, are you apt to hear it?”

Charissa bit her lower lip. “If it’s the truth.”

“I’ve got nothing.”

Charissa frowned in a pretty, puzzled way.

“Look at me.” Kraft waited until Charissa not only looked at her, but really saw her. “I lost my crew, lost my ship, and I’m wearing borrowed clothes.” Kraft looked down at her outfit and then back at Charissa. “No guns, no blades, no weapons but my hands.” She lifted them, shrugged. “Hell, I’ve got no shoes.” She shook her head and uttered a harsh laugh. “Whole of my life, I ain’t
ever
been this bad off.”

Charissa twirled a strand of honey hair around her fingertip as she gazed at Kraft with blinky confusion. Kraft figured at best, Charissa was eighteen. A sweet and sheltered eighteen. Surprising, considering Charissa and Payton had been living on the Fringe for three years, running from an abusive IWOG officer—Charissa’s father and Payton’s husband. Kraft had read wisps of their struggle from the clothing they’d offered her earlier.

Somehow, Jace protected Charissa from the brutalities of life on the Fringe. Kraft couldn’t see how. Jace wasn’t ruthless and vicious, but gentle and tenderhearted. She wondered how he survived a day, let alone a decade on the Fringe. But then again, when push came to shove, he’d hauled off and busted Heller in the face.

Kraft fought down a flush of female pride. Even though she could defend her own honor, she had to admit that having a man like Jace step up to do it still felt mighty good.

“Thing is, Charissa, as stripped as I am, I got two things none can take.”

“Oh?” Charissa twisted her tiny hands together.

“Honor is one. No power in the Void can rob me of it lest I allow it.” Kraft considered Charissa for a long time. “I give you my word, young lady, I’ll not betray a soul on this ship.” With a sigh, Kraft stood. “Even Heller.” Checking the twine of her hair, she flexed her body hard. A good meal helped tremendously with eliminating the lingering effects of the drugs. “Now, I’m going to have to hurt that boy, his fascination for fighting me and all, you understand. But I won’t betray him. It’s a fine distinction.”

“Heller is way bigger than you,” Charissa pointed out.

“He’s way bigger than Captain Lawless too.” Kraft smiled.

“But, well.” Charissa screwed up her face as she searched for an answer. “You’re a girl.”

Kraft chuckled. “You’ve not ever met a woman who can fight, have you?”

“Well, no. But Heller, he’s not a man, he’s a beast!” Charissa’s eyes went round as her mouth.

“Size matters little against skill.” Kraft shrugged. “Sex has nothing to do with it at all.”

“Does that mean you’re
not
going to hurt Captain Jace?” Pretty and puzzled, Charissa needed a clear answer.

Kraft considered her question for a moment. “Captain Lawless, stripped bare, has his honor.”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Charissa flushed and turned her attention to straightening the faded silk flowers on the battered table. Kraft could all but taste Charissa’s crush. She’d recently abandoned her crush on Jace. Her young heart now fell on Bailey. Not good. Bailey got boy-turning-to-man-gaze and he’d riveted it on Kraft.

“Captain Lawless went out of his way to help me, not hurt me, Charissa. And I’ll give him the same measure.”

“You won’t hurt him?”

“No.” Kraft thought about it. “Unless he hurts me first.”

Charissa nodded, wary, her delicately arched brows pulling together. “What if he does?”

Kraft gazed right into Charissa’s crystal green eyes. Innocence fairly oozed from the girl. Kraft had never looked into the face of a more unspoiled, unsullied young woman.

“Tell you what, I give as good as I get.”

“Mind some company?” Garrett asked as he ambled into the galley.

“Not at all.” Kraft stowed the last of the now sparkling pots and pans. She set to work on chipping the oven top clean. The Void humbled her back to cook, but she still shined. Fairly amazing, considering what she had to work with in the pantry.
Mutiny
hadn’t had a decent cook on it in years, if ever. Hell, if the kitchen were any indication, the ship hadn’t had a decent
cleaning
in years, if ever.

Garrett settled himself at the galley table with a worn blue notebook. He flipped through the pages. Ruffles and sighs drifted her way.

After a long while, Garrett asked, “What’re you doing?”

Kraft had been banging about in the galley for hours now. She had a feeling Jace, if not all of his crew, had been listening to her via the kitchen wall com.

“I’m attempting to organize this disaster area.” She wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. “How could any of you cook in this mess?”

Garrett looked up from his notebook. “I don’t think you could call what we did cooking.”

“No? What would you call it?”

“Mild poisoning.”

Kraft laughed as she continued to chip away at the congealed glop on the ancient stove top. “What are you doing?”

Garrett shrugged over his notebook. “Nothing much. Fancy myself a bit of a poet. I like to sit in here at night and let my muse have her way with me.”