Whispers in the Dawn (10 page)

“Aren’t you supposed to find guys on your time off?” Brody watched Jason’s grin get impossibly wider. The twerp was having fun at his expense.

“How am I supposed to meet guys cooped up all day in this tiny shack? I like older men. They’re not fools, like the younger ones.”

Uncle Peter stuck out his hand. “Gimme that phone, son. Looks like the pretty lady don’t want to be bothered by the likes of you.”

Brody sighed. This just wasn’t his day. The old man puffed out his chest as he took the phone and even had the audacity to twang his suspenders.

“Now you’re a pretty little lady,” he said in his Sunday best voice. “Would you like to have dinner, on me, tomorrow night?”

He nodded as the woman spoke, although Brody couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. “Good. My nephews here would like to get on a starship travelling to the nearest space station. How long does it take to get there, and how much does it cost?”

He nodded several times. “Three months, eh?” To Brody, he said, “Does three months of your life travelling in a sardine can from which you can't just walk off to get fresh air sound like something you’d enjoy?”

“Three months?” Brody and Jason echoed in unison.

“I don’t think they’re interested any longer, Miss Sarah. But I’d love to take you to dinner at Old Crawford’s, just the same.” He listened again. “Tootle tootle to you too.” With a smug expression, he hung up.

“Now, son, you got to learn to get with the women, you see. They’re like artwork, and think like that too. If you give them something to bite into, they’ll be as happy as a worm in an old apple, just ploughing away and eating themselves full until they pretty well pop.”

After snapping the elastic of his suspenders again, he strode back into the living room. The old springs in the worn out armchair sagged as he sat to watch the remainder of
The Young and the Near Dead
.

Brody squinted. “How does he do that?”

Looking dejected, Jason sat down at the kitchen table. “I don’t know, but I’d sure like to know his secret. Funny—that woman wouldn’t give you the time of day, but she kissed uncle silly over the phone.”

“It’s my new eau de cologne,” Uncle Peter called out above the commercial on the TV.

As crestfallen as Jason, Brody shook his head. “Sure it is. Sure it is.”

“Do you think if we bump the old man off, we’ll get his women?”

“You can have Mrs Oglethorpe, but Joanna Petrocheeni is still mine,” Uncle Peter shouted again.

“I don’t get it.” Jason crumpled, resting his head against his bent elbows.

“You’re too young,” came the sharp reply.

Chapter Ten

Where had she gone? Harley began to panic. The public area was filled, as usual, with all kinds of peoples in colourful clothes and drab personalities. Several wore the helmet that was becoming more and more popular on the station. Harley shook his head in wonder. He’d seen all manner of fashions, from ankle bracelets with large jewels set in the bands to men wearing nylon mini-pants, but this one was too far-fetched. Could Odessa be wearing one to conceal her identity? The helmets didn’t give much of a hint as to who was underneath, since there was a leather strap that tucked under the chin, and if a person kept their head down there was little possibility of being recognised.

Was Odessa with that short man who looked like a snowman? Harley rushed forward, hoping to get an unobstructed view. But a tall human with a mohawk hairstyle blocked his path. By the time he’d got around him, silently cursing the annoying opportunity to see one of the few hairstyles that bothered him to no end, Odessa was gone.

Strangely, the snowman alien was still walking along at an easy pace and seemed to be conversing with someone, although Harley couldn’t see who. He could very well be talking to someone on another planet via a headset, for all he knew. Harley rubbed his eyes and bumped into a woman wearing a shimmering cloth that showed all her assets—and then some. Without delay, he averted his eyes and, making a small noise of apology, spun around and returned in the direction he had come from. He knew if he’d done anything else, the woman would have taken his actions as encouragement to seduce him.

His vision blurred. He hadn’t made love to a woman since Abby. He didn’t want anyone else. Until Odessa Grante had come along with her smart mouth, her hasty wit and her beauty. The mental image grew of kissing her lips until they were swollen. But he wouldn’t just stop there. No, he’d slowly undress her, caress her breasts and her thighs. She would be naked in front of his eyes, almost purring with delight.

No, that was far too fast. What he would do was caress her through her T-shirt until she cried out that she wanted more of his fingers, of his gentle yet demanding kisses. She would wiggle on the soft blanket under her and he would be so madly aroused that he could hardly handle himself…but he’d want to slow down, to take his time with her. When he edged his hand between her legs to her clit, it would be wet.

He chuckled. Her back would arch up against his digits, then she would cry out as an orgasm rippled through her. She wouldn’t need more than that. Oh, how his desire ramped up. She would squirm now, as she gave in to her desire. Then he would plunge into her wet sheath and they would rock together until they were blinded by ecstasy. Yet, she was the enemy, he reminded himself. A duplicitous woman with an agenda of her own, who wasn’t quite as innocent as she’d made herself out to be.

Odessa’s pixie-like face haunted him. Did she need his protection, or was she leading him into a trap? He couldn’t allow the Murrach’s men to find her. If he needed to free her from custody, he might compromise his real identity and place himself in grave danger.

He paced through the surging and ebbing crowd, paying close attention to the vendors against one side of the circular wall. Some called out to passers-by, while others held signs hand-painted in their own languages. The advertising effect tended to be the same. Some people lingered to examine the wares for sale, while others completely ignored them and went about their business. The smell of the different foods, spicy and sweet, mingled together into an indescribably strong scent that turned Harley’s stomach, a reminder he needed to eat soon. But first he had to find Odessa.

He kept searching, remembering her honeyed lips against his. Why had he so foolishly kissed her in the concourse instead of finding a way to safety? What imprudence had overtaken his better judgment, even to the point of disregarding his own life? Being endangered physically often prompted a man to act irrationally. He knew that. For a reason he couldn’t put his finger on, Odessa fascinated him. He hadn’t even kissed Abby on their first date.

Harley stepped in something soft. Grunting in alarm, he lifted his boot, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently attached himself to a time bomb that would go off in a moment or two. He lifted his foot and took a peek at what was underneath. Old-fashioned pink bubblegum, a rarity on this station, peeled away. The manufacturer had discovered the secret so that it could be easily stripped away from any article it stuck to—as long as it wasn’t ground into the object. A small group of grubby children with dirty faces stood nearby, pretending they hadn’t seen anything. Their leader, a young teenage boy in Earth years, defied the rest of his friends and gave him a bold, angry look.

Wishing Abby could have been around to handle the situation in her usual charitable manner, he whistled to the boy after digging in his pocket for a small Romaydian coin. The permanent child residents on the station were like the inner-city kids in LA—poverty-stricken and with no means out of the hellhole into which they’d been born. The boy watched his hand. Stark fear registered in his pale blue eyes before he hit one of his friends on the back in some prearranged signal, and fled. Harley pursed his lips. His forbidding expression must have chased off the young gang.

Someone called out in a high-pitched voice, begging for mercy, but a woman emerged from the crowd, holding the teenager by the ear. Reluctantly and with an ugly scowl, he tagged along beside the woman, who wore a light purple gown. Surprisingly, her eyes matched the fabric of her dress, bringing to mind Odessa’s pink T-shirt and the swell of her small breasts. Why couldn’t he get Odessa out of his head?

“Tell the gentleman you’re sorry, Zorm. You shouldn’t do things like that,” the woman ordered the boy.

Zorm bent his head, apparently unwilling to repeat the words of apology. Once, Harley had been like that boy—bluffing that he was the smartest boy in the whole world. Time and experience had jaded him.

The woman bent over and said something into the boy’s ear. His head snapped up. Fear and mistrust lit his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant, sir,” he managed before he jerked himself free of the woman’s hold.

“I’m sorry too, sir. He won’t do it again,” the woman said, puffing her chest out before she made a little curtsey.

“What’s your name?” he asked, slipping into his practised role as Pardua’s most valued man. That was, until the Murrach got a yen to have him assassinated and replaced if he outlived his usefulness.

“Violette, sir,” she said, giving her little curtsey again.

She was much more courageous than many of the women on Romaydia. Harley threw her the coin he’d intended for the boy. “See Zorm gets this.” He wanted to add ‘please’, but that word didn’t fit the image of Pardua’s right-hand man.

The woman’s eyes, expressive in their innocence, widened. “Thank you for caring, sir.” She disappeared, leaving Harley standing in the crowd, solitary yet not alone, remembering the bittersweet taste of a kiss with a woman who was the one being who could threaten his life.

When he straightened, he was surprised to see Violette facing him. She closed the distance between their bodies and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Pretend you want me,” she whispered into his ear.

“The only problem is, I don’t,” he muttered. His hard-earned reputation as the Murrach’s right-hand man wouldn’t suffer in the slightest if he indulged in some pleasure. “Get back or I’ll have you arrested for interfering with Lord Pardua’s officer,” he said harshly.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” she said, her voice muffled against his jacket. She tucked her cheek against his shoulder, apparently attempting to kiss him and lure him into her temptress’ lair. “Don’t you want to know where the lady you’re searching for is?”

Taken aback that she knew what he was doing, Harley would have stepped away, but she held on with a relentless, long-nailed grip. “Don’t you want to know? The information wouldn’t cost you anything.”

“Not even protection for you and yours?”

“Nay. The Murrach’s safeguard is only for those he considers important. He thinks nothing of women like me.” She paused, as if carefully choosing her next words. “And I have no one here.”

Her statement cut through his heart like a knife through ice, but he refused to feel compassion. It wasn’t his responsibility to take care of her. Pretending indifference, he shrugged. “What is it you know of this woman?” he growled.

Violette’s jasmine perfume floated around him, light and feminine. “She is with the Ashtari negotiator, under his protection.”

Harley stopped himself from grinding his teeth. So he’d been right. The Ashtari had probably been shielding Odessa as they strolled along the public area. Had Odessa sought the tiny man’s protection? Why?

“I mean, she is now under his shield of invisibility. I saw her go under.”

He’d figured as much. “Why are you telling me this?”

“She is of the opinion her boyfriend will come back for her, but I know better. He will not return. I don’t want her to be stuck here. Like I am. Or like the others. Despite what you think, the Murrach toys with his women before he consigns them to a life of prostitution or kills them. The women here spend years hoping their knight in shining armour will come along and save them, but that rarely happens. If some alien takes one of us off-station, no good comes of it. When he becomes bored with her, it’s easy enough to place her in an airlock and let the air out. Would you want that to happen to your woman?”

Harley heard no self-pity or regret in her tone. What he did hear was the concern she demonstrated for the others who were barred from leaving. Yet what had made her state she believed Odessa was his woman? “How did you arrive here?” he asked out of curiosity. He could do nothing for her without compromising himself.

“That is of no consequence to you,” she said, maintaining the ruse of trying to seduce him. She stroked his cheek with a whisper-gentle hand and traced a feather-light path down his thigh. He felt nothing sexual as a result of the act.

“If I helped you get off the station?” he offered, fully intending to keep his promise. He disliked the station and its dark, hostile atmosphere.

“I am here for my lifetime. I accept that, but there are those who cannot or will not accept this type of living as their fate. I try to help them because they can’t help themselves. They are the ones who need your help. Like your woman.”

“How do you know I am searching for her?”

“I speak of the woman whose eyes, as blue as a jewel of great value, you would willingly trade for something. Her hair is cut unfashionably short but is golden yellow. Without a doubt, she is the one you search for.”

He dipped his head in the affirmative. He clearly saw Odessa’s heart-shaped, coral lips and her spirited stance as she confronted him. Why had Abby’s features been replaced by Odessa’s, those of a woman he hardly knew?

“She is momentarily safe in the Ashtari’s quarters. Momentarily.” Violette moved her hands up his chest and angled her head back, as if to see his face better. “If no one else on this forsaken station does, she needs your assistance.”

“Why?”

“You can find her a way home. If you have it in your heart to do so. If the Murrach finds her first, he will break not only her body but also her spirit. She is innocent. She needs your help.” Abruptly, the woman turned her back on him and, without casting a glance over her shoulder, slipped away into the crowd.