Chapter 3 #2
She let out a short yelp, her arms and legs tightening around him. Very soon, he planned to have her doing that…naked.
They zoomed across the alley, and people below called out and pointed. Relda pressed her face against his neck.
They reached the roof across the alley, and Hunt ran a few steps on the tiles until he got his balance. He kept a tight grip on her. “Made it.”
She lifted her head and gave a quick laugh. “You’re handy to have around, Marshal.”
His lips twitched. “And you haven’t seen my best skills yet.”
She smiled. “I bet.”
Across the alley, there were shouts. Hunt saw a group of his deputies on the roof, chasing Relda’s attackers. His hand curled into a fist. He wanted to chase the bastards down, but his first priority was to look after Relda.
“Come on,” he said. “Time for that medbooth,”
“Really, I’m fine.” She released him and took a step back.
Then her knees gave out.
He caught her before she fell and hauled her into his arms. She was a pleasant armful of curves. “You’re not fine. Medbooth. No argument.” He didn’t wait for a reply, he simply strode over to the set of steps leading down to the ground.
Darkness had fallen, and while the main hub of the market had restaurants and food stalls that stayed open late into the night, this part of the market was quiet.
He neared the closest medbooth. The box stood a little taller than he did and flashed with neon advertisements that contrasted sharply with the low-tech feel of Souk. He set Relda on her feet and pressed a palm to the booth. Its door swung open with a hiss.
Bright, white light glowed out. A simple bench was all that sat inside. “In you go.”
Relda sighed. “It won’t work on me.”
He frowned. He’d never heard of medbooths not working on anybody. “Explain.”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “It’s my secret to keep.”
He stared at her lovely face. “Humor me. Get in the booth.”
She shrugged. “They’re your e-creds.” She stepped in, swept her skirts to the side, and sat down.
The door closed and the machine hummed quietly. Hunt crossed his arms and waited impatiently. He sent a quick message to check in with his deputies. Received a message back that the attackers were still at large and Westin was woozy but okay.
Three minutes later, the medbooth beeped, and Relda stepped out.
Her face was still red, swollen, and threatening to bruise. He brushed his fingers over the injury.
“Told you.” There was a smugness in her voice.
“So you did.” He swung her back into his arms.
“Marshal Calder—”
“Hunt.”
“Marshal—”
“Hunt.” Stubborn woman was going to have to learn he was just as tenacious as she was.
She huffed out a breath. “Fine. Hunt. I can walk.”
“Maybe, but I like carrying you.”
That shut her up. He turned into the alley where her house was located and then stopped at the two-story, cream-colored house with windows accented by black wrought iron and boxes filled with colorful flowers. As they neared, the front door flew open.
“Relda!”
Four girls of differing ages—ten through late teens—hurried out. Concern and worry was stamped on their faces.
“I’m fine.” Relda waved them back inside.
Hunt stepped into the tiled entry.
“Yes. I see you’re doing very fine.” The oldest girl was staring at Hunt and smiling. She shifted her gaze to Relda. “Those men who attacked Alia came back, didn’t they?”
“They did.” Hunt made eye contact with each girl. “Everyone needs to be careful. Don’t go out alone and stick to crowded parts of the market. These men are dangerous.”
The girls all nodded, and the older one cleared her throat. “Relda, I’ve already taken a tray of food to your room.”
“Thank you, Pria.” Relda’s tone was filled with warmth. “All of you get to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“She needs some ice,” Hunt said.
Pria bobbed her head. “I’ll get some.”
“Where’s your room?” he asked Relda.
She looked like she was gearing up to argue.
“If you think I’ll just leave, think again. I have questions.”
Her nose wrinkled. It was probably wrong that he found that attractive. There didn’t seem to be anything about this woman he didn’t find appealing.
“Besides, I want to get some ice on your cheek.”
She let out a gusty sigh. “You are incredibly stubborn.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“The upstairs is my own private apartment.”
He took her up the stairs. It didn’t take him long to find her bedroom. The spacious room had her stamp all over it. The bed was large and covered in a spread the color of emeralds and piled high with pillows.
Low, backless sofas were clustered around a round table and through a door he saw a bathroom covered in creamy tiles and dominated by a deep tub.
He set her down on one of the sofas and strode into the bathroom. He came back with a wet cloth and sat beside her. He set to work cleaning her cheek. Moments later, a knock sounded and Pria came in. She left a small bowl of ice on the table, and left with a smile.
Hunt wrapped some ice in a second cloth and held it to Relda’s cheek. “This will help with the swelling.”
“How do you know old-fashioned first aid?”
“When you and your team are stuck in the middle of nowhere with no medbooths and no functioning medscopes, you soon learn simple, old first aid is better than bleeding to death.”
Green eyes watched him steadily. “Were you injured a lot?”
“Enough.” He had plenty of scars. And he’d lost many good soldiers over the years. Too many.
He didn’t plan to lose anyone else. “Who are you, Relda?”
She stiffened. “Relda Dela-Cruz.”
“Where are you from?” Don’t lie to me, beautiful.
He was gratified that she hesitated this time. “I’m from Brielle Station.”
“Bullshit. There’s no record of a Relda Dela-Cruz before you turned up on Souk.”
She kept his gaze and lifted her chin. “I’m Relda Dela-Cruz from Brielle.”
Hunt swallowed his frustration. “What species are you?” He couldn’t see any sign that she was anything but human.
She leaned over to snag a grape from the tray of food on the table. “That’s an odd question, Marshal.”
He tangled a hand in her hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers. Tight enough that she had to feel it. “I can’t help you if you don’t give me something…anything.”
Those jewel-green eyes seemed to glow in the low light. “I don’t need your help.”