Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Dr. Eos Rai gripped the edge of her seat and gritted her teeth. The pilot of her hired mini-shuttle executed a dizzying spiral descent toward the moon below.
The free fall was exactly what her life was like at the moment. Her fingers clenched on the seat. How much longer until she hit the bottom?
She focused on the irregular, pockmarked surface below. Her first look at Khan.
The moon was a captured asteroid that now orbited the market planet of Souk. If she craned her neck, she could just make out the large planet with its urban areas interspaced with farms and forests.
Here at the edge of the known galaxy, Souk was the stopping-off point for explorers, colonists, and daredevils heading off into unknown space to make their fortunes. And its small moon of Khan was home to the most notorious treasure hunters in the galaxy—the Phoenix brothers.
Another sharp turn had her almost head-butting the synth-glass windshield.
She shot a narrow look at the pilot, but the weathered old man peered straight ahead through his thick glasses—who still wore glasses when you could visit a medbooth and get your vision fixed for a few e-creds?
—and didn’t even glance at her. In fact, he looked bored.
As long as she landed in one piece…
She had to make the Phoenix brothers help her.
She pulled in a deep breath and rubbed the fingers of her left hand together. She felt the slight bump at the end of her index finger and thought of the precious cargo it carried.
It challenged all her beliefs to put this into the hands of treasure hunters, but she was out of options.
She’d worked with Niklas years ago at the Galactic Institute of Historical Preservation. He was steady and smart. She trusted him. His brothers, though, were wild cards.
Why the hell had Niklas thrown away a promising career in astro-archeology for this? She stared at the scratched and dented hulls of the various starships that littered the moon’s surface. A spaceship graveyard.
But she knew salvage wasn’t the brothers’ main business. No, they went after items far more lucrative than scrap metal.
Dathan Phoenix had a reputation for sniffing out the choicest ancient relics.
Right or wrong, it was a skill she needed. If she could convince him to chase a myth.
He was legendary across the Exodus quadrant.
Not to mention cursed in the halls of the Institute.
Heat seared under her rib cage. She hated that artifacts that should be in vaults or museums were taken by his grubby hands and then sold to the highest bidder.
Her mother had died trying to keep artifacts out of the hands of pirates.
Eos smoothed a finger over the floral markings that traced up the back of her hand and twined around her wrist. The familiar habit soothed her. No one had the right to steal someone’s history.
“There she is,” the pilot said.
Eos’ gaze shifted downward. A large huma-dome shimmered pink-purple on the horizon.
The energy field of the dome kept the atmosphere inside but also permitted solid objects to pass through.
Moments later, the bubble-shaped shuttle shot straight downward—along with Eos’ stomach.
The light lunch she’d had earlier at the spacedock on Souk threatened to come back up.
The shuttle descended through the dome and touched down on a small landing pad.
“Thank you.” She didn’t hide her eagerness to exit the shuttle.
She’d already transferred payment into the pilot’s account before the trip, leaving her e-cred account dangerously low.
Her stomach twisted into a knot. She’d already forked out a small fortune for the commercial fare to get to Souk.
What she had left was to convince the Phoenix brothers to help her.
As Eos slipped on her small backpack, the shuttle shot upward, bathing her in steam. Spinning, she faced the building.
No one appeared to greet her.
Hmm, security sucked. Her boots made a quiet tap on the smooth floor as she headed inside the monstrous warehouse.
The inside was packed with…junk. Mostly ships—or parts of them—of all types and sizes. She spied lights in one corner of the building and wended her way through the debris.
As she passed a small pile of rusted metal, she glimpsed paintwork on the…whatever it was. She stopped and crouched, smoothing a hand over the surface.
Shock hit her. “It can’t be,” she breathed.
NASA was written in faded white paint, with a small flag made up of stars and stripes. Remnants of a Terran satellite!
She shot to her feet. So little was known about the world that had seeded life on so many planets in the galaxy.
Most of the planet’s records had been lost after its nuclear devastation in the Great Terran War.
She imagined for a second what it must have been like with the world’s superpowers at war.
Even over the name of the planet itself.
Earth had been the English term used by the United Countries of the Americas, but the records showed that in the other powerful group of countries, the Northern Federation, they’d used Terra.
Both terms were now commonly used throughout the galaxy.
Eos’ mouth firmed. This satellite should be in a museum being studied, not rotting here on a desolate moon. She marched toward the back of the warehouse. The light she’d spotted was spilling from a half-open door. She pushed it open.
Living quarters. Not tidy ones. She noted the clothes strewn across the floor. A large bed with rumpled covers was pushed against one wall. A battered metal desk was closest to her.
What sat on it had the breath rushing out of her lungs.
She circled the desk. “By Suva’s grace.” A Renaissance bronze in mint condition. She’d only ever seen pictures of them in records. She reached out a trembling hand.
Then she was yanked backward.
A strong arm wrapped around her chest like a steel band. A hard male body pressed against her back. She stiffened and shoved her elbow into a firm abdomen. A wet, naked abdomen. The cool metal of a weapon pressed against her temple and she froze.
“I’ve had a bad day.” The male voice was low, raspy. “I’ve already had one woman sneak up on me today. I don’t plan to make it two.”
“I don’t care what kind of day you’re having.” She wasn’t violent by nature, but she’d been trained to defend herself on isolated digs. Acting on instinct, she dropped low and swiped out at his ankles with her foot.
She’d obviously surprised him, because he toppled. Pulling her over with him.
For a second, she glimpsed the lean, tough body of a runner—all firm, sinewy muscle. She had a quick impression of dark ink covering one of his arms. She didn’t let her gaze go lower.
She landed on top of him with an oof. He was strong, and she realized that she’d never beat him in a fair fight.
He was cursing in a language her lingual implant didn’t recognize. She scrambled off him, reaching for the laser pistol that was now lying on the floor.
Her fingers brushed metal. Then she was tackled from behind.
She hit the floor face-first and all the air was forced out of her lungs in a rush. The man’s heavy weight settled over her, and her cheek pressed against the smooth concrete.
Warm breath tickled her ear. “Now what, darlin’?”
“Now nothing. Get off me.” Eos bucked her body. But all that did was grind her butt into a hard stomach.
“Not until you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing in my place.”
She sucked in a breath. “No one met my shuttle.”
Footsteps.
“Her name’s Dr. Eos Rai.”
She recognized Niklas’ voice. Relief flooded through her. She turned her head enough to see Niklas and a younger man with tawny hair in the doorway.
The younger man smiled. “Twice in one day you’ve gotten beaten up by a girl, Dath.”
“Screw you, Z,” the man above her said.
She guessed the one with Niklas was the former Galactic Strike Wing fighter pilot, Zayn. Which left the hard, dangerous man on top of her as none other than Dathan Phoenix.
His weight shifted off her, and she sat up.
Now she knew who he was, she let herself look.
Tanned skin stretched over hard muscles. Actually, he was a bit pink, like he had bad solarburn. Not that it detracted from his blatant masculinity. A washboard stomach and a deep V of muscle that disappeared…downward. Where she wasn’t going to look.
One strong arm and shoulder were covered in black ink. Her heart stuttered as her gaze traced the wild, masculine design. She pressed her hands together, touching her own designs. His markings were nothing like the elegant mehndi markings the men and women on her world were born with.
Dathan grabbed a towel off a nearby chair and wrapped it around his hips, then he crossed his arms over his chest. Her gaze met eyes the color of the bright blue-green mountain lakes on her homeworld.
Hair the color of deepest space fell around a slightly battered face, and a small white scar cut through his left eyebrow.
“How are you, Eos?”
She forced her gaze away from Dathan. “Niklas. It’s nice to see you.”
“So you know each other?” Dathan asked with a frown.
Niklas nodded. “We worked together at the Galactic Institute of Historical Preservation.”
Dathan’s face tightened. “We’re not real fond of Institute snobs around here.”
She arched a brow. “I’m on a leave of absence.” A forced one, but they didn’t need to know that.
Dathan extended a hand, his intense eyes burning through her. “Well, regardless of your profession, I’m sorry about the gun in your face. Like I said, it’s been a rough day.”
She put her hand in his, and ignored the tingle where their palms met. “Spent in the sun?”
He rubbed a hand over his stubble-covered cheek, and she thought the color in his face deepened. “Something like that.”
“This is the last place I’d expected to see you, Eos,” Niklas said.