Chapter Two
Ricka hated seeing the hunter leave. The man had been way more impressive up close, and her skin still tingled where he’d touched her.
Libby walked over to the recently vacated table, stacked the glasses on her tray, and wiped off the surface. “I thought for sure he was going to stick around.” She nudged Ricka’s shoulder. “Admit it. You liked him. You would so break your rule if he came back in here and asked you to leave with him.”
“What? No,” Ricka said.
“Liar.”
Oh yeah. She was definitely entertaining thoughts of what it would be like to spend what remained of the evening and the following day in the arms of the handsome Tarron. “It doesn’t matter. He’s probably already headed to his ship.”
The only reason visitors stopped on Rivean was for fuel, goods, or repairs. The out-of-the-way mining colony was a layover, not a place travelers wanted to call home—on purpose. The same reason she’d been determined to return to Earth. To leave sad and unpleasant memories behind, to start over and find a place she could call home.
Ricka knew she’d never see the hunter again and reined in her disappointment. Seriously, what had she expected? A date? A ride around the planet in his spaceship? She needed to push all thoughts of him out of her mind. Not so easy when his masculine scent still lingered in the air, and she could picture those gorgeous and intense catlike eyes.
“Good night, ladies,” one of the miners said as he held the door open for his friends. “You sure you’re going to be okay if we leave?” He gave them both a hopeful smile.
“We’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.” Ricka waited until they were outside, then hit the sensor to engage the security and prevent anyone from coming inside. “What do you say we lock up and head home?”
“Sounds good to me. I’ve had way too much excitement for one night and can’t wait to get some sleep,” Libby said.
Twenty minutes later, Libby entered from the back room and set her purse and coat on the counter. “You about ready to go?”
Ricka set the remainder of the glasses she’d finished washing on the rack under the sink. “Let me get my things.” She opened the cabinet behind the bar and pulled out a small travel pouch and jacket.
“Where’s Orum? I didn’t see him cowering in his office,” Libby said.
“He left about five minutes ago, grumbling about needing to be somewhere and said to lock up.” Leaving them to close the bar was nothing new. Lately, it was his usual ritual.
“Fine by me. The less I have to deal with him, the better,” Libby said as she tugged on her coat.
“I’m totally in agreement with you there.” Ricka was still irritated her boss had disappeared instead of sticking around to help when she’d been accosted by the Klorthon.
Ricka slipped on her jacket and followed her friend outside into the chilly evening air. After securing the door and keying in the lock sequence, she tugged her jacket's collar close to her neck. The planet had a dry atmosphere, comparable to the desert areas on Earth, only hotter. While some of the days could be extremely hot, the evenings tended to be cooler, sometimes frigid.
When they reached the narrow alleyway leading to the small lot behind the building where Ricka had parked her transport, Libby asked, a hint of worry in her voice, “Is it me, or is the walkway darker than normal?”
“Damn, the solars are out again. And not only the ones on our building—they’re out on the supply store next door too.” Even when the lights worked, Ricka dreaded having to use the walkway. It was the only way to reach the lot unless she wanted to walk two blocks down to the next street, then circle back behind the strip of other businesses .
The solars went out all the time. No matter how much she complained about the lack of lighting, her cheap boss wouldn’t invest in any decent solars for the outside of the building.
Dread skimmed across Ricka’s skin and the Tarron’s parting words ran through her thoughts. She snagged Libby’s sleeve, pulling her to a stop. “I don’t like it. Maybe we should go around.” There would be more light and possibly a colony patrol vehicle making rounds.
“It’s freezing, and I’m exhausted,” Libby whined.
Ricka was tired too, so she couldn’t dispute her friend’s reasoning. Going home and crawling into a warm bed sounded good. She just wished she could shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. “I still think we should...”
“Come on, it’s not far. There’s still enough light to see where we’re going. It won’t take long if we hurry.” Libby picked up her pace and headed for the lot.
“Wait for me,” Ricka hollered. She’d barely caught up to Libby when the sound of heavy footsteps echoed around them. Her pulse raced, and she wished she’d listened to her instincts and tried harder to get Libby to take the long way around.
Libby stopped and whispered, “Did you hear something?”
“Yeah.” Ricka glanced behind them but didn’t see anything. The noise stopped, and there was no way to tell where it had originated. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.” She reached for Libby’s hand and urged her forward.
The Klorthon who’d attacked her earlier appeared in front of them, his massive frame blocking their path. He took a menacing step forward. “Did you miss me, female?”
Ricka’s heart pounded even faster, and she drew her friend to a stop.
Libby gasped and tightened her grip. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.” Her voice cracked, her apology on the verge of hysterics.
“What do you want?” Ricka asked, trying not to show the fear surging through her system. She stepped in front of Libby and pushed her backward.
“You and I have unfinished business,” he said.
“I told you before, I’m not interested.”
The Klorthon licked his lips. “I like your spirit and will take great pleasure in breaking it.”
The only weapon Ricka had was her knife, which clearly was no match for the warrior. Fighting wasn’t an option, so she needed to find a way to escape. They could try to outrun him, but his legs were longer, and he’d catch them in no time. The pleasure house was a few blocks away and always open. It was a long shot, but if she could distract the Klorthon long enough for Libby to get away, her friend might be able to make it there and bring back help.
Since becoming a bartender, Ricka had managed to befriend several of the women employed at the place. At first, it had been a little embarrassing to hear them openly discuss the differences between the various alien species and the human male anatomy. Ricka had learned, in most cases, the male parts functioned the same with only slight differences in their appearance.
They’d assured her one thing remained the same—a direct hit to the groin took down any male, no matter what size or species. Ricka had never had the opportunity to test the theory, and right now, she hoped the information had been accurate.
Ricka lowered her voice so only Libby could hear her. “No matter what happens, you run when I tell you.” She spoke to the warrior. “Like I said, still not interested.”
Irritation flickered in his arrogant gaze; the silver looked as if it was glowing. “I will have you. Make no mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was not slicing your throat when I had the chance,” Ricka said.
Libby groaned and tugged on Ricka’s sleeve. “What are you doing? Are you nuts?”
Ricka didn’t have time to explain her plan or the time she hoped to gain Libby by provoking the Klorthon. “Just be ready.”
Every survival instinct Ricka possessed screamed for her to run when he stalked toward her. Even with Libby tugging on her jacket, she refused to move. As soon as he grabbed her arm, she jerked her knee upward and nailed him hard in the groin. A roar ripped from his throat. His shocked gaze turned into a murderous glare as he gripped his crotch and dropped to his knees.
Ricka had no idea how long it would take the warrior to recover, and she wasn’t about to stay around and find out. She shoved Libby back toward the front of the building and shouted, “Run!”
They hadn’t made it more than ten feet before a transport appeared, and another Klorthon jumped out, blocking their escape. He grabbed Libby around the waist and clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her scream, then hoisted her off the ground and tossed her into the back of the vehicle.
“No, no, no.” Ricka tried to reach her friend, but the Klorthon she’d left behind grabbed a handful of her hair to stop her. The warrior tightened his grip, causing pain to radiate across the back of her skull as he yanked her backward.
She reached for her knife, but he was faster. He grasped her wrist and pinned it to her side, slamming her against his chest. “I will enjoy making you pay for the pain you have caused me.”
***
Even though Synge hadn’t regretted his interaction with Ricka, lingering in the bar had cost him valuable time. After leaving the building, he’d been unable to find any trace of Molock. If he was correct, Molock was still lurking around somewhere, possibly observing from a distance. It was something Synge would do if their roles were reversed.
He walked toward the pleasure house, hoping to give anyone monitoring his actions the impression he was seeking female companionship and would be busy for several hours. Once inside, he bribed the man guarding the door to allow him to keep his weapon and let him leave via the back exit.
The darkness from the early morning hours and the overcast sky provided enough shadowed areas to hide his movements as he made his way to the rear of the bar. If his instincts were correct, this would be the perfect place for Molock to attempt Ricka’s abduction. If he was wrong, he’d lose only a little time and would rest easier knowing she was safe.
Synge found a place next to a building on the opposite side of the lot where he could survey the situation without being noticed. It didn’t take long before the lone male he’d seen sitting at the end of the bar, who he’d decided was probably the owner, to appear, then depart in a small shuttle, leaving one other transport in the lot.
Shortly after that, he heard female voices and saw Ricka and Libby approaching through the building’s narrow passageway. Moments later, his suspicions were confirmed when he spotted Molock creeping along the back of the structure. Klorthons rarely traveled alone, which meant his crew was somewhere nearby. As much as he wanted to protect the females, he needed to wait for the others to reveal their presence or risk being outnumbered.
Originally, he’d planned to let the Klorthons take the women, then follow them back to their ship in case they had already abducted other females. Afterward, he would contact the colony patrol, inform them of the situation, and hope they would provide adequate support. What he hadn’t factored into his plan was Ricka. He listened to her interaction with Molock and was once again impressed by her intelligence and bravery as she attempted to outsmart him and shield her friend. The knee to Molock’s groin was a good move but would probably get her killed.
When Molock grabbed her, Synge had expected him to drag her to his transport. Instead, he shouted to the other Klorthon, “Return to the ship and make sure you avoid the colony patrol.”
“And you?” the other warrior asked.
“I will meet you there after I give this female a lesson in behavior.”
The other male sneered. “Understood,” he said before climbing back into the transport.
Molock kept Ricka’s arms pinned to her sides as he lifted her around the waist and carried her to the rear of the building. “Now, human female, I will teach you how to behave.” He lowered her feet to the ground, then spun her around and slammed her back against the wall. He covered her mouth with his to stifle her screams, then slid his hand inside her jacket and roughly cupped her breast.
Synge could barely contain the rage ripping through him. “Sheraaat,” he cursed in his native tongue, then withdrew his repeater and fired. The shot pinged off the wall several feet above the Klorthon’s head.
Molock growled, deep and feral. He whirled, yanking Ricka in front of him, using her body as a shield. He clamped his fingers around her throat to keep her in place. “You have no business here, hunter.” His chest heaved, and his narrowed eyes blazed in a kaleidoscope of silver. “I have claimed the female. She belongs to me now.”
“The woman is a colony citizen.” Synge lowered his repeater so it was level with the warrior’s head. “You need to let her go. ”
Molock’s nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth. “My people don’t abide by colony rules. We take what we want.” When Ricka clawed at Molock’s arm, trying to dislodge his hand, he tightened his grip. “Leave now, and I will let you live.”
“You know that is not possible,” Synge said. “If you release the female, I will let you leave unharmed.” Synge would keep his word and let Molock go if he complied, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t track him down later and make him pay for hurting Ricka.
“I have a much better idea,” Molock smirked as he slipped his other hand behind Ricka’s back and slid out the hidden knife. He adjusted the grip on her neck to allow enough room to press the blade near her throat. “If you drop your weapon, I will not spill her blood.”
Synge was a good shot, but he’d already determined that the odds of wounding Molock without hitting Ricka weren’t in his favor. Even if he lowered his weapon and offered him freedom in exchange for letting her go, she’d never be out of danger. The Klorthon had staked his claim, believed Ricka was now his property and would continue to come after her.
During his training to become a hunter, Synge had been required to learn the histories and cultural protocols of all the inhabitants living on planets within the quadrant. Since the Klorthons were dangerous, had no respect for the laws of others, and presented the highest threat, he’d spent additional time learning everything he could about them. He’d discovered that an ancient warrior’s code was the one thing the Klorthons respected and would abide by no matter the cost.
The only way Synge could save Ricka’s life and free her from Molock permanently was to use the code and battle him for the right of ownership. A battle to the death where the winnings went to the survivor. It meant if he won—and he had every intention of doing so—she would belong to him. She’d be his responsibility and his to safeguard for as long as he lived. Without considering the ramifications of his decision, and before he could change his mind, Synge said, “I invoke the rite of challenge.” He paused, then added, “To be done in the old ways, without weapons.”
Molock furrowed his brow. “What need do you have for one mere human female?”
“The reasons are my own,” Synge said.
Molock kept his gaze locked with Synge as he slid his tongue along Ricka’s cheek. “The female tastes delicious.”
The action was a form of branding, meant to taunt Synge, to get a reaction. And it was working. It took all his strength not to snarl and let the warrior know Ricka had somehow become important to him. “Do you accept the challenge or not?” He strained to keep all emotion out of his voice.
Molock studied Synge for a few more seconds, then tossed the knife to the ground. “I accept.” He shoved Ricka aside. “I look forward to continuing your lesson once he is dead.”
“Uh.” She roughly swiped her jacket sleeve along the side of her face and quickly backed away from him.
Synge shoved the repeater back in the holster and removed his long jacket before tossing it aside. Next, he bent forward and released the fastener keeping the leather secured to his thigh. He barely had time to unbuckle the belt and set the weapon on the ground before Molock rammed his shoulder into his midsection, knocking him backward. Winded, he groaned and fought to stay on his feet.
Synge cursed himself for letting down his guard. He’d known before invoking the rite that Molock wouldn’t fight fair. The male was ruthless and would kill him when the first opportunity presented itself. He drove his fist into Molock’s face, forcing his head to the side and enabling him to break free.
Molock circled to the right as he wiped the blood trickling from his nose and licked it from his fingers. “You fight well, though it will do you no good. I still plan to end your life.” He paced a little further, then dove at Synge again.
Synge was ready for Molock this time. He stepped to the side, raised his leg at the same time he grabbed the warrior’s shoulders, then kneed him in the ribs. With the amount of force he’d exerted, he wasn’t surprised to hear bones crack.
Molock staggered backward, clutching his side. It didn’t take him long to recover and lunge at Synge again. Only this time, the Klorthon twisted at the last second and caught Synge hard on his right side, the pain radiating along his shoulder and arm. After that, the fight grew more vicious, with both men relying heavily on their fists. Synge managed to deflect most of Molock’s blows but hadn’t been able to prevent a cut to his lower lip. The bruising he’d have the next day would be the least of his worries if he didn’t find a way to end things soon.
The battle might be to the death, but Synge had no intention of taking Molock’s life unless it was absolutely necessary. He would need the warrior alive to find Libby and any other females who may have been taken.
They were both growing tired, the pauses between each onslaught becoming more frequent. Instead of moving back the next time Molock pulled away, Synge stepped forward and punched him in the jaw hard enough to send him flying sideways. Caught off balance, Molock tripped and landed on the ground face-first.
Thinking Molock was down for good, Synge headed back to belongings to get the binding cuffs out of his jacket. He’d only taken a few steps when Ricka shouted, “Look out!”
Synge turned in time to see Molock swiping at him with the knife he’d tossed aside earlier. Apparently, when faced with losing, the Klorthon disregarded honor and the rules dictated by the challenge.
The first swipe barely missed Synge’s chest. Molock’s second attempt, a strong backward swing, caught his side below the rib cage.
Synge clenched his teeth and released a pain-filled snarl. He clutched his side, taking several steps backward.
“With your death, I will take what is mine.” Molock stepped forward, arm poised above his head, ready to deliver another blow.
“Hey, asshole,” Ricka yelled before hurling a rock at Molock’s head.
She missed her target by inches, but the distraction gave Synge the time he needed to dive on the ground and grab his repeater. He rolled on his side, wincing at the sharp pain it caused, then aimed the weapon at Molock. “Drop the blade.”
Molock glared at Synge, rage contorting his expression. From this distance, the Klorthon had to know Synge wouldn’t miss, yet it didn’t stop him from growling, “This isn’t over,” before turning and ducking down the passageway.
Rather than fire, Synge lowered the repeater. He figured Molock would head for his ship and launch as soon as possible. If Synge didn’t waste any time getting to his own shuttle, he might be able to track the warriors before they got very far from the planet.
His side continued to throb, his body growing weak from blood loss. He’d suffered knife wounds before and knew that the injury wouldn’t kill him because of his accelerated healing abilities. He did, however, risk losing consciousness if he didn’t seal the cut and stop the bleeding. The public transit he’d used to reach this part of the settlement was no longer running, and now that he was injured, he’d need to find an alternative way back to the launch area.
***
Ricka couldn’t believe the hunter had allowed the Klorthon to escape. She had no idea what a “rite of challenge” was, and she didn’t care. Any other time, she might have found Synge’s act heroic, but right now, she thought it was stupid. She’d been tempted to chase after the Klorthon herself if it meant finding Libby, but common sense intervened. She was no match for a handful of warriors. Besides, the man on the ground clutching his side could be dying. There was no way she’d walk away and leave him to fend for himself, especially after he’d risked his life to save her.
She raced across the lot, then quickly knelt beside him. “Why didn’t you shoot him, or at least stun him so he couldn’t get away?” Surely his weapon had some kind of hurt-but-don’t-kill setting.
“I was afraid of injuring you,” he said.
“A lot of good it did you. Now you’re the one who’s hurt.” Concerned he might bleed to death, she tapped his arm. “Let me see.”
He studied her for a moment, then moved his hand away from his injury. “I need to get to my ship.”
She lifted the edge of his shirt and pushed it off his abdomen so she could exam the wound. “This looks deep. You’re not going anywhere if we don’t slow down the blood flow.”
“I can make it but will require some assistance.”
She glanced around for something to use to apply pressure. The few things she owned were kept safely locked in the place she shared with Libby, so she knew there was nothing useful in her vehicle. There was no way she was leaving him alone to go back to the bar. Other than his jacket, which was too bulky, she couldn’t find anything. She glanced down at her shirt, got an idea, and mumbled, “Desperate times...”
“What does that mean?” Confusion flickered in his eyes.
“Nothing. It’s a human saying.” She slipped out of her jacket, wishing she hadn’t the minute the cold air hit her bare arms. She’d thought about asking him to close his eyes but didn’t have time to be modest. Besides, she was wearing a bra underneath, so it wasn’t like she’d be totally naked. When she started to pull her shirt over her head, he placed his hand on her arm and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to save you,” she said, then tugged her shirt over her head, only to find him gazing at her breasts.
Heat burned a path along her throat and cheeks. “Would you mind not staring?”
“If you did not want me to look, then you should not have removed your shirt,” he said, turning his head to focus on the ground. “And in case you were wondering, I think you have a beautiful body.”
“I wasn’t, but thanks.” Ricka released an exasperated sigh when she noticed his grin and realized he was teasing her. “This is going to hurt.” She folded the fabric in half and pressed it against his wound. “Sorry,” she said when he winced.
After rolling his shirt over hers, she took his hand and placed it on top of the makeshift bandage. “You need to apply pressure until we can get that looked at.”
She slipped on her jacket, then helped him to his feet.
“Thank you, Ricka,” he said.
She loved the unusual way he pronounced her name. Maybe it was how the implant translated his language, because when he spoke, it sounded like he’d purposely rolled the “R” across his tongue. “How did you know my name?” It wasn’t as if she and Libby wore name tags in the bar or had mentioned it during their earlier conversation.
“I overheard your female friend,” he said.
He was handsome and observant. So she hadn’t imagined him watching her earlier. At the rate her insides were warming, she’d be wearing a flush on her entire body, not just her face.
“Is that your shuttle?” he asked, tipping his head toward her outdated vehicle. “Does it function?”
“Yes. Why?” Ricka huffed. She refused to be embarrassed by the transport’s rusted and badly worn exterior. Thanks to her father, she had enough mechanical experience to easily maintain it and keep it operational.
“Then I need you to take me to my ship,” he said.
Ricka wondered if all hunters were so demanding. “Look, whatever your name is, I’m taking you to a med unit first.”
“Synge.”
“Synge?” she asked.
“It is my name.”
Yeah, the name suited the outlaw image she’d fantasized for him.
“I can address my needs myself if you take me to the launch bays.”
“The medical building is closer, and so is the colony patrol,” Ricka said, determined to change his mind. “In case you’ve forgotten, the Klorthons took Libby, and I need to report it so they can search for her.”
“If I agree to help you find your friend, then would you take me to my ship?” Synge asked.
He might be an enforcement officer, but did that mean she could trust him to keep his word? Ricka was usually good at reading people and scrutinized him, looking for any signs of insincerity. When she didn’t see any, she asked, “Really, you’ll help me find Libby?”
“Yes. It is now my duty to protect you...as well as your friend,” he said.
From what she’d heard, the hunters were supposed to be the good guys, part of a policing force for the quadrant. When he said it was his duty to protect her, was he referring to an oath he’d taken to help those in need? “Okay, let’s go.”
After retrieving his coat and holster, Ricka leaned against his side so he could drape his arm across her shoulder. Bracing her hand against his back, she helped him to the transport, then had him lean against the metal frame so she could open the door. When he slid into the passenger seat, he groaned, concerning her even more.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yes,” he hissed, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes.
He looked paler than he had a few minutes ago, and Ricka didn’t think he was anywhere near okay. She quickly tossed his belongings in the small compartment behind the seat and got in next to him. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell if he was breathing. As soon as she maneuvered the vehicle out of the lot, she poked him in the arm. “Hey, you need to stay awake.”
Synge opened one eye to glare at her. “Female, are you always this annoying?”
“Only with stubborn patients,” she said .
His snort made her grin but didn’t alleviate her anxiety. She tightened her grip on the control handles and concentrated on the deserted road, then pushed the transport speed past the posted limit.
“Please avoid drawing the patrol’s attention,” Synge said. “They will ask too many questions and cause us unnecessary delays.”
He sounded as if he’d had prior experience with the planet’s law enforcement who worked for the mining corporation. They might not have any jurisdiction to do anything to Synge, but she lived here and hadn’t reported the incident with the Klorthons yet. She’d experienced the patrol’s loyalties firsthand the day they’d escorted her from her home. They could, and would, make her life more difficult than it already was if they had a problem with hunters. They might even prevent her and Libby from returning to Earth; that was of course, after she found her friend, something Ricka was determined to do.
“I know a shortcut. One that should get us there without drawing any attention.” She eased off the accelerator, then turned down a street that ran along the outskirts of the outpost.
After a few minutes of driving in silence, curiosity got the better of Ricka. “You knew the Klorthon, didn’t you? Personally, I mean.”
“Yes, his name is Molock.” He continued to keep his eyes closed as he spoke.
When Synge didn’t offer an additional explanation, Ricka asked, “Was he the reason you were in the Nexus?”