Chapter One
Tersi, Twenty-Seven Standard Days Ago
Dyuvad ab Mhij sat up and popped his helmet off. His nerves tingled in the aftermath of a blaster shot delivered squarely to his armored chest. Thank Fryw he’d worn it on the raid instead of his street clothes. Otherwise, the blast would’ve knocked him out long enough for local law enforcement agents to discover his presence and arrest him for trespassing and vandalism, and probably kidnapping, too.
He slapped an armored hand onto the hardwood floor beneath him. He’d been this close to securing the red-headed beauty he’d spied on in the days leading up to the raid. His old friend Ryn abid Alna had gotten to her first, then shot Dyuvad, forestalling an on-the-spot challenge for rights to steal the woman.
Ryn always had been a sneaky, underhanded winyu runner.
Normally, Dyuvad admired his friend’s creative solutions to sticky situations. Not today. His father had made it clear that if Dyuvad didn’t return with a suitable candidate for the Choosing, even Wode wouldn’t be able to deter his wrath.
Which is what Dyuvad got for enjoying life a little too well.
“A man your age should be settled by now,” he said, mimicking his father’s gruff voice, “not out carousing into the wee hours of the morning. Don’t disappoint your mother again. Bring home a wife.”
Dyuvad pushed himself upright into a wobbly stand. His mother, the formidable Mhij Ak, would never express her disapproval outright. She didn’t have to. One glance from the former Q’Mhel’s cold eyes had always been enough to ensure her sons’ obedience, especially after their father shared one of her more daring adventures as the leader of an elite squadron of mercenary-soldiers.
Dyuvad snorted as he rebooted his armor’s internal systems. His mother loved him. He’d never doubted that. Had he been a disappointment to her? Maybe, but it wasn’t exactly fair to compare him to his older brothers. Styadun, the eldest of the three, was a serious, studious man and the heir to their father’s position as the kafh of Tyansk Province. Dyuvad’s next eldest brother, Benar, had opted to follow in his mother’s footsteps at the tender age of seven and had, for the next twenty-odd Galactic Standards, trained and lived as a mercenary-soldier on Q, their mother’s home world.
What could Dyuvad ever do to measure up to either one of his brothers’ accomplishments, let alone both?
His armor’s computer beeped from the helmet’s inset earpieces. Dyuvad retrieved his helmet from the floor and jammed it on his head. He ran a quick systems check, then pulled up the blinking Net connection in the lower right-hand corner of the digital display projected onto the interior of his helmet, overlapping his view of the red-headed woman’s home.
Immediately, the disembodied, androgenized head of a Net telepath flashed into view, startling Dyuvad. Personal contact with a ‘path was rare. They were an extremely insular bunch, very protective of their privacy, and only appeared in the most dire situations. For one to reach out now was bad, really bad. His gut tightened. Tyornin’s hammer. Had something happened to his family?
“You have been chosen for an urgent assignment,” the ‘path said, its voice flat. “Enter the Net for further details within one Standard hour or risk permanent disconnection from the Net.”
The dread zinging through Dyuvad faded into relief. Not his parents, then, but what ?
He shrugged and activated the preset coordinates input into his armor, then exhaled and lit the jump. Reality distorted around him and his head whirled. An instant later, he popped into his ship’s passenger bay and staggered sideways. Kraden jumps. They always left him a little shaky, no matter how hard he worked to overcome the side effects.
He shook his head hard, clearing it, and jogged toward the bridge. One Standard hour wasn’t a lot of time, but it didn’t need to be. Accessing the Net didn’t take intelligence, just a good connection. Still, he yanked off his helmet and instructed his ship’s AI to access the Net. No need to take chances. The Net was too valuable for communications and as an information source to risk disconnection.
As soon as he hit the bridge, he said, “Bring up recent messages.”
The viewscreen shimmered to life and a handful of windows opened, each one holding a message he’d received while he’d been planetside. Dyuvad plopped into one of the two chairs stationed in front of the ship’s main controls and pulled up a message marked urgent .
The Net ‘path’s head appeared on the viewscreen. “Identify yourself.”
“Dyuvad ab Mhij, Fevl, Tyansk Province, Abyw, Fluma System.”
“Identification accepted.”
The ‘path icon faded and was replaced by the image of a small girl no more than two Standard years in age. The likeness diminished and zoomed to the left side of the viewscreen. Adjacent rows of information scrolled down the screen’s right-hand side.
“Travel beyond the frontier to Origin Space and find this child,” the ‘path said. “She must be protected.”
“Why?”
“Travel beyond the frontier,” the uninflected voice repeated.
Dyuvad glanced at the bridge’s ceiling. Why had he bothered asking? He would’ve had better luck getting answers out of an inert wall. “Fine, I’ll travel beyond the frontier. Where exactly am I going?”
The girl’s image shrank. A planet appeared below it, a blue world shrouded in wispy clouds. Water covered large sections of the surface, interrupted by massive continents clustered into two groups of major landmasses and numerous minor ones.
Dyuvad studied the data scrolling along the viewscreen and frowned. “There are billions of people living on that planet. It’ll take years to find one little girl, and that’s assuming I can make it there at all. The frontier’s not exactly a friendly place. Origin Space is a virtual wilderness. No sane man goes there expecting to make it out in one piece.”
The ‘path reappeared. “Travel beyond the frontier, Dyuvad ab Mhij. Protect the girl.”
The message light blinked. The ‘path faded off the viewscreen and dozens of messages popped open one after another, so rapidly, Dyuvad couldn’t process them all. “Wait, slow down.”
The streaming messages flickered to a halt. He tapped into one containing sparse details of the girl’s life and pinned it into the upper left-hand corner of the viewscreen. Another message was from his bank on Abyw, alerting him to an unexpected deposit. He checked it and whistled his astonishment into the ship’s recycled air. Apparently, protecting the little girl was worth a couple hundred thousand credits, judging by the jump in his net worth. It was enough to bribe his way into another raid and then some. Maybe that would appease his parents.
He continued reading messages, pinned the important ones below the girl’s data, and finally hit on one from Benar flagged “Security Clearance Q.” After scanning it, Dyuvad sat back in his chair. He was to meet his brother in three Standard days, where he’d pick up new identification documents, enough currency to allow him to live independently on the girl’s planet, and clothing and other items he’d need while there. Benar’s six-man dal would escort Dyuvad and his ship to the outer reaches of the frontier. From there, he’d travel on his own into Origin Space to the girl’s planet, where he would jump planetside and go about protecting her from dangers unspecified.
He brought the planet’s image up again and studied it, eyes narrowed. Earth, also known as Terra. He arched an eyebrow. At least one among the Pruxn? had visited the remote planet in the unknown past and returned to Abyw with enough bovi to start a breeding herd. Other than that, Dyuvad knew nothing, not surprising considering how far the planet was from civilized space. If he was lucky, the inhabitants would be relatively peaceful and would have some kind of rudimentary technology. If he wasn’t? Chaos, anarchy, primitive conditions.
After losing the red-headed beauty to Ryn, Dyuvad wasn’t feeling particularly lucky.
The last message was from an unknown sender and held a single line repeated over and over again. She is important to us .
Dyuvad grunted. Well, that wasn’t obvious at all, was it?
He input coordinates for the initial meeting spot into his ship’s nav systems and readied himself for an unplanned mission into one of the galaxy’s most uncivilized regions.
Earth, the Present
It was the crash that woke Rachel Hunter, not her children’s excited screams or their frantic scramble out of their respective beds or her brother’s dogs barking up a storm next door. A goat bleated outside, way too close to her bedroom window, and she sighed. If those dadgum dogs had gotten out and pulled the fence down again, Fate was going to pay for it, favorite little brother or not.
And he’d do the work repairing the fence, too, by golly.
Maybe it was just the metal goat falling off the roof of her van. Jazz had sworn it was permanent when he’d welded it up there. Then again, he was first and foremost an artist, not exactly the most stable or reliable calling in the world. And he did like his ‘shrooms an awful lot .
Rachel flipped the covers off her legs and groped for her flip flops. The digital clock on her nightstand read 4:58 in obnoxious, bright red numerals. She flicked off the alarm. No more sleep for her. At least the sun was close to rising, unlike the last time Fate’s dogs had gotten out.
She shrugged on a ratty robe over the equally ratty Great Smoky Mountains t-shirt she’d worn to bed. Tiny’s shrieking laughter rang through the early morning air into the house. Ten to one, the girls were already out there tangled up in whatever ruckus had caused the crash. They’d need another bath before breakfast could be cooked and eaten. God forbid either one of them avoid the chance to get dirty.
Kelly’s excited chatter filtered to Rachel. She yawned and forced her tired body to move. Raising two daughters without their father’s help on top of managing a thriving business plum wore her out sometimes, but it was worth it. Every day, she thanked God for the blessings He’d given her, two healthy little girls, a knack for working with plants and animals, and a sound head for business. Sometimes, she and the girls struggled to make ends meet, but it was better than the way they’d lived while her ex-husband Juan had flitted in and out of their lives.
Rachel shuffled down the narrow hallway of her home, bought and paid for through the sweat of her own brow, thank you very much, and bounced against the doorframe leading into the kitchen.
Sleep. Just one more hour of sleep would’ve been fine and dandy.
Kelly burst through the backdoor, her shiny, black-brown hair a rumpled tangle around her sun-kissed face. “Mama, you have got to come see this! There’s a man on the fence and the goats are everywhere . Billy’s eating the guy’s backpack and Nanny’s chewing on his clothes and…”
Rachel held her hand up, forestalling her nine-year-old’s detailed explanation of what each and every one of their goats was up to. “Is the man hurt?”
Some of the excitement bled out of Kelly’s expression. She shifted from one dirty, bare foot to the other and focused her chocolate eyes on the floor. “Well, I don’t think so. He’s not really moving or nothing, but he groaned and stuff. That means he’s ok, right?”
“Not necessarily. Go grab his backpack before Billy eats all of it.” Kelly spun and smacked the backdoor open on her way outside. Rachel raised her voice and added, “Get your sister inside, too.”
Heaven forbid the goats got tired of chewing on strangers and snacked on Tiny instead.
“Yes’m,” Kelly hollered over the slap of her feet against the porch.
Rachel backtracked to her bedroom and tugged on shorts, a bra, and her work boots, then trudged back through the house into the pre-dawn morning. The air was cool and humid and delicious. Honeysuckle bloomed along the wild edges of her yard. Its sweet fragrance competed with the subtle scent of tea roses and jasmine planted around the house.
Speaking of.
She clomped around the side of her house, and sure enough, there was Georgette gnawing on the tough brambles of Rachel’s great-grandmother’s beloved First Love tea rose. If Granny could see that, she’d have a fit. As it was, she’d probably turn over in her grave, and wouldn’t that be a sight.
Rachel snagged Georgette’s collar and heaved, dragging the reluctant goat away from an activity that’d raise hairs on a haint. In spite of the shadows surrounding her home, it wasn’t hard to spot the other goats as they hopped the downed fence, or the gap in the fence itself, or the man lying crosswise over slack barbed wire.
He was a big’un, he was, an easy enough judgment to make from where she was standing, even with only the light of the half moon illuminating him. Looked like he’d staggered into one of the posts and broken it under his weight, taking down the two posts on either side. Thank goodness the wire had slackened instead of breaking. Otherwise, he could’ve been seriously injured, and she’d be spending the day at the hospital instead of replacing posts.
Kelly was standing next to him shooing the goats away with one hand. A backpack was slung over one, thin shoulder and her hip was cocked, the perfect perch for her two-year-old sister. “I don’t know, Mama,” she said. “He looks kinda funny to me, like he might really be hurt.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, honey. Here. Round up the loose goats and pen them in the corral.” Rachel handed her hold on Georgette’s collar over to Kelly as she knelt beside the man. “Go on, now. We’ll have to patch this section before we can eat. If we get it done in time, I’ll make waffles.”
Tiny clapped her chubby hands together. “Melex.”
“Waffles, Tiny,” Kelly said, “not melex. C’mon. I know you can say it.”
“Melex,” Tiny insisted.
Kelly clucked her tongue. “She ain’t never gonna learn to talk right.”
“And you have?”
“I’m better’n she is,” Kelly retorted, then huffed. “Oh, fine. I know that look, Mama. I’ll get the goats penned up so we can have melex for breakfast.”
Rachel pressed her lips into a hard line, containing her laughter, and turned back to the man. She’d been right. He was a big man, easily over six feet tall and heavily muscled underneath a brand spanking new black t-shirt and stiff jeans. She ignored the attraction fluttering low in her gut and pressed her fingers against his throat, searching for a pulse. It beat hard and steady under her fingertips, so she gently probed his scalp through the short strands of his soft, silky hair. No knots or cuts, thank goodness, but why else would he be unconscious?
She eased away from him and rubbed her hands over her bare thighs, scrubbing off the tingling warmth left behind after touching him. Last thing she needed was another man around. Hadn’t she learned her lesson the first time, and the hard way to boot?
But still, he was so big and firm, and his features looked like they’d been carefully sculpted under the loving hand of a skilled artist. He had high cheekbones and hollow cheeks, a sturdy jaw, but not a domineering one, and a little dimple in his square chin. His skin gleamed under the moon’s silvery light and had been like velvet under her fingers, it was so smooth and rich. If he had an imperfection, it was his nose. It was a little too flat and wide for his features, but not so much it detracted from his striking looks.
She cocked her head and considered him. He wasn’t local, that was for sure. A man who looked like that was gossiped and tittered over, and not one word had reached her ear about him. So he was a stranger and he might be dangerous, though his size aside, he didn’t really look like he’d harm a fly. His clothes were too crisp, his skin too soft, like he hadn’t had much of a chance to wear either them or himself in good.
Rachel eyed the fancy watch strapped to his right wrist. It was a good three inches wide and had some kind of blacked-out flexible screen on the top. The rest of it was made out of flat black metal. Everything about it sat up and hollered expensive .
Kelly bounced to a stop beside her, Tiny in tow. “Is he dead?”
“Alive and kicking,” Rachel said. “You get the goats rounded up?”
“Yes’m.”
“Get your sister inside, then, and get cleaned up, the both of you. I’ll be in as soon as our fence crasher wakes up.”
Kelly’s delicate mouth pursed into a bow, but she went inside. Tiny hopped along behind her, one finger in her mouth, her head twisted around as far as it would go toward the man lying in their pasture.
When Rachel turned around, the man’s eyes were open. They were darkly beautiful, framed by thickly curled lashes, and fixed on her. She rested a hand over her fluttering heart. Lordy, he was fine. “Are you ok, sir?”
He blinked, glanced at the sky, then rested that intense gaze on her again. “Rachel Athena Hunter Olvera.”
His baritone voice was like his skin, rich and smooth under a guttural accent. Her stomach clenched tight on another wave of attraction, and she dutifully swallowed it down. It wouldn’t do to let a stranger get the better of her, especially when that stranger might be hurt. “I’m Rachel Hunter.”
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Rachel.” He sat up with no effort at all and gripped her wrist in one, strong hand. “I am Dyuvad ab Mhij. I have come to inquire about your room for rent.”
“My room.”
“Yes, Lady Rachel. You will show it to me now.”
She nodded slowly. Oh, lordy. This man, with his silky hair and fabulously toned body and a watch that cost more than her house, wanted to rent the shabby mother-in-law room attached to her kitchen? “Um, I need references and the first and last month’s rent and…”
Oh, who was she kidding? She’d had that thing up for rent for a good year and the only folks that had inquired were a couple of jobless kids fresh out of high school.
Rachel stood, brushed the wet grass off her knees, and inched away from him. If this guy could explain how he’d landed on her fence and was willing to hand over cash, the room was his.
And if he couldn’t? So be it. She and the girls had plodded along well enough before Dyuvad had landed on their fence, and they’d plod along just as well when he was gone.