In the Devil’s Nebula (Phoenix Adventures #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

One wrong touch of the controls and he’d be dead.

Zayn Phoenix handled the flight-pod’s controls with the lightest touch. It was experience—years of it—but also gut instinct and nerves. For him, flying had never been about pushing button A, or pulling lever B. It was a passion.

Watching the map on the tiny viewscreen, he saw a turn coming up. He didn’t tense, stayed relaxed, but his concentration was fierce. Maneuvering a pod barely big enough for his body through the tight twists and turns of a space station’s ventilation system wasn’t something he did every day.

He waited, watching the small red blip that showed his pod’s location on the screen, and when it reached the right spot, he tilted the tiny joystick.

The pod responded, turned hard to the left, and sped down another vent shaft.

His end goal, marked on the map with a giant blue cross, wasn’t far ahead.

“Hey, flyboy. You there yet?”

The voice came through his nano-earpiece loud and clear. Like his brother was seated right next to him. Except there wasn’t an inch of space in the pod for Dathan to squeeze his muscled body in.

“Remember I said I needed complete concentration while flying this thing?” Zayn muttered.

“Yeah. So, are you there yet?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Nearly.”

“I want that crown, Zayn.” The new voice was a shade deeper than Dathan’s and held its usual serious edge. “Darc’s been after it for months. I want it.”

“I’ll get your bloody crown. Now, shut up.

” Zayn frowned. His oldest brother Niklas’ obsession with their rival treasure hunter left him worried.

They’d all had their asses handed to them by the lethal woman numerous times.

Nera Darc was emotionless and deadly. Nik and Darc had a dangerous relationship of one-upping each other, which was going to get one of them killed before long.

Zayn just wanted to make sure it was Darc, and not Nik who got hurt.

He turned his focus back to the controls.

They’d been planning this hunt for weeks.

Vand Braxx had spent more than a few nights boasting about his purchase of the Crown of the Consorts.

The Old Earth treasure was coveted and valuable.

Braxx, on the other hand, was scum. His private space station was a haven for thieves, thugs, and anyone interested in shady activity of the less-than-legal variety.

The Phoenix brothers, therefore, didn’t feel an ounce of remorse of relieving him of his latest treasure.

Not that they’d sell it for full price. Since Dathan had up and married an upstanding astro-archeologist, they were suddenly donating a lot of the treasure they hunted to museums. Zayn grinned.

They still gladly accepted the finder’s fees, though.

And he quite liked having Eos around. She’d smoothed out some of Dathan’s ragged edges—he’d had quite a few—and her insane smarts and knowledge made planning their hunts a hell of a lot easier.

Zayn palmed the controls and the pod dipped, flying downward through yet another vent. He enjoyed the sensation of falling.

And going fast.

He’d always loved speed, but in the last few years, he’d developed an addiction for it.

Going fast meant the bad memories couldn’t catch you.

All too soon, he brought the pod to a gut-churning stop. “I’m at the location. Exiting pod. Radio silence ’til I’m back.”

“Good luck, Zayn. Be careful.” Eos’ softer, cultured voice whispered in his ear.

The door opened with a hiss. “Thanks, babe.” Zayn pulled himself out of the pod and stepped onto the metal grate of a maintenance platform.

He glanced upward. The hatch into the station was eight meters above his head.

His boots were made of synth-leather, silky soft and great for sneaking around.

The magnetic soles were also pretty damn useful.

He pushed one foot against the wall and felt the snap as the boot stuck to the metal. He walked up the wall and then went to work on the blinking control lock beside the hatch. A second later, the hatch opened without a sound.

Bingo. Zayn climbed through. He was in a bedroom. It was draped in metallic gold fabric—the walls, the ceiling, the posts at the corners of a bed large enough for an entire VelocityBall team.

And in the center of the bed was a woman with very dangerous curves. Very naked curves.

She sensed his presence because she slid sensuously against the silken sheets and looked over her slim shoulder. She pushed a tangled cloud of multi-colored hair back. Her gaze skimmed his tight flight suit, then she shot him a smile designed to turn a man’s cock hard as space rock.

Zayn loved women. Always had. But this lush woman left him uncomfortably cold. Instead, the image of a toned, athletic body and a cap of blonde hair wavered in his vision for the briefest second.

Mission, Zayn. He shot the woman a smile and pressed a finger to his lips. She nodded and gave him her best come-hither look. He mouthed later and crept out of the room.

Eos’ research had indicated that Braxx’s harem girls weren’t particularly loyal to the man. He provided them with luxury, but he was cruel and demanding.

Just another good reason to give the man a huge fuck you. Anyone who hurt women was lower than low.

That include you, Phoenix?

The uncomfortable thought was a kick to his belly. He gritted his teeth and kept moving.

A few rooms later—all thankfully empty as planned—he found Braxx’s little throne room.

At one end of the space was a large, elaborate chair of twisted metal set on a small dais.

Behind it, a huge window offered a fantastic view of space and the distant asteroid field that provided the station with protection.

One of those asteroids was also hiding his ship, the Infinitas, and his brothers.

Zayn’s gaze moved back to the butt-ugly chair. Why did these bastards always have thrones? What was wrong with a good office? Or just a comfy couch? Then his gaze zeroed in on the slim stand spotlighted in the center of the room. He walked toward it.

Incredible. In the center of the pedestal sat the Crown of the Consorts, nestled on a bed of blue velvet.

It was made from platinum and set with a sprinkle of diamonds.

Four arms arched up to some sort of cross at the top.

But what stole the show was the huge diamond sitting right in the center at the front.

Eos had told him it was called the Koh-i-noor and was just over a hundred carats.

The crown was a symbol of power and wealth, but also a piece of history.

He always thought it was wrong to lock treasure away, even in a reputable museum. Life was supposed to be lived, experienced. This crown should be gracing a beautiful woman, not cold and lonely, locked away on a space station. And definitely not Vand Braxx’s space station.

He opened the secure bag he’d brought to carry the invaluable piece. He reached out to grab it and his fingers passed right through it.

What the fuck? He tried again. A fucking hologram!

He touched his ear. “Guys, we have a problem. The crown is a hologram.”

Dathan’s curses echoed through the line.

“Braxx could have the real thing in a safe.” Niklas was always the voice of reason on a Phoenix treasure hunt.

Zayn glanced across the room. Wild Delican art graced the walls, and other artifacts and treasures were dotted around.

“I don’t think so. The room is jam-packed with expensive stuff.

” He thought of the curvaceous woman lounging in her exotic room.

“The guy likes his toys on display for everyone to see.”

Looking back at the pedestal, he searched for the hologram projector. He found the tiny dot, far smaller than any he’d seen before, on the side of the stand. He pressed it and the hologram of the crown disappeared.

What was left nestled on the velvet was a small metal bird of prey with wicked-looking talons.

Anger stormed through him. “Dammit. Our pain-in-the-ass rival’s been here.”

“What?” Dathan demanded.

“There’s another one of those birds of prey. He was here. Stole our prize right out from under us. Again.” Zayn had no idea who their mysterious rival was, but this was the third hunt where the treasure hunter had bested them. “What the hell does he want?”

“Better yet, who the hell is he?” Nik asked.

“Get your ass back to the ship, Zayn.” Dathan’s voice was tight with barely leashed anger. “We can’t ignore this little upstart any longer.”

Zayn fingered the silver bird before he slipped it into his pocket. It reminded him of the hawk logo he’d once worn on his Strike Wing uniform. He pressed the button to turn the hologram back on.

Nothing happened.

He pressed the button again.

Still nothing.

Then an alarm started blaring.

Oh, fuck. The bastard had set a trap. Zayn spun and sprinted back toward the entrance to the vent network.

He’d made it out of the throne room when he heard shouts and the thunder of running guards. Great. He pushed harder for more speed. The door to the bedroom was ahead.

Suddenly, a large guard sprinted around the corner in front of him. He was a Taurean with a broad, stocky body covered in gray skin and small tusks on either side of his mouth. Taureans were known for being incredibly strong.

Zayn debated. The one weakness of Taureans was they were slow. He had speed. And plenty of it.

It didn’t matter, the guard made the decision for Zayn. The Taurean lowered his head and charged.

Zayn’s body flooded with adrenaline. He wanted to run, but he held his ground, waiting for the right moment.

The guard thundered closer. Zayn pivoted and ducked around the Taurean as he rushed past.

Then Zayn sprinted. The door was at the end of the hall, calling like a homing beacon.

Laser fire sprayed the wall beside him, sending him diving to the floor.

“Don’t move.” The words were deep and slow, like the guard wasn’t used to using them.