Jaron's Promise Page 2
A huskier laugh joined Orland’s. Sasha bit off another curse. Who did he have working for him? She didn’t boast lightly when it came to her skills. No one ever got the drop on her. Combined with her Argoran shifter genetics she knew she wasn’t easy prey.
Wisps of sound saved her from another hit as Sasha changed positions, making her way to the far wall. This wasn’t random. Whatever he planned, Orland had come with a dangerous partner which made Sasha the fool. Again.
She really needed to learn—men couldn’t be trusted. Especially if they were former lovers.
“I think we can both agree that one of us needs to go. Two Bounty Retrievers working the same targets and same clients can get tricky.”
The taunt came from the right and behind her. This time Sasha eased her way to the side, left hand outstretched in hopes of using the wall to guide her as she searched for the door to get out. Despite her earlier thoughts of not running, prudency governed the need for retreat.
Orland snickered. “Now you want to be quiet. Usually you can’t stop talking.”
Sasha grinned and wished she could see his face. How often Orland used to get frustrated by her protracted silences during the debates he initiated. His snappish responses to those times supported her belief in his inability to work well with strong women who didn’t bow down to his loud opinion. Another mark against him. Her judgment in selecting lovers needed work.
Footsteps scuffled ahead of her, so she adjusted her trajectory. While her second assailant possessed a higher level of stealth than Orland, he couldn’t hide his scent and the distinctive odor carried a tangy bite of bitterness.
Inhaling silently, Sasha avoided the general direction of his smell. Orland on the other hand was a master tracker like her. He also wore something to disguise his scent. All Argorans possessed a stronger sense of smell yet gave off very little. Enhancements to eliminate it entirely were easily purchased on the illegal market. Trust Orland to use such against her. Sasha shook her head. She really did have the worst luck.
“There’s no way out, Sasha.”
There was always a way out. It’s how she managed to survive this long and attain her hard-won reputation as one of the best Bounty Retrievers around. She assumed the warning to be another effort to pin her position.
Catching a glimpse of moonlight through the crack of the door she’d used earlier, Sasha dug her heels into the floor and burst forward running. In a few feet, she’d be free and harder to track once out of this enclosed space. Then she’d think of a way to get back at Orland.
The solid bulk of a muscled arm caught her about the front of her throat. Pain ricocheted from the neck down. Sasha gagged as she jerked back and fell to all four on the ground choking. Another kick to the side of her head and Sasha tilted over, barely bracing a palm out to catch her weight.
“Orland! You’ll pay!” She called in a hoarse snarl. Her throat continued to burn.
Rough hands grappled at her as Orland snatched her arms and bent them behind her at an awkward angle. Her claws split through her fingers and she slashed out. Fabric ripped and tore filling her with satisfaction. She tried to push to her feet, but the shooting pain in her head stopped her.
“I think you’re the one who’ll pay,” Orland muttered in her ear before yanking her to her feet.
Strength and size won out. As much as Sasha struggled, he managed to get a pair of plasti-cuffs on her wrists and dragged her toward the door. Outside, the stars cast eerie shadows on Orland’s face. His partner joined him and she flinched. A Serpine.
Curses bubbled forth. She’d never met one before, but the pale green skin and the raised hood from his shoulder slits helped decipher his race. The serpent like people were clan based and followed the rule of matriarchs on their home world. Why was Orland dealing with one all of a sudden? He hated them based on the simple fact they made far better fighters than Argorans.
When the Serpine grinned, a row of jagged sharp teeth flashed. He folded his arms over his vest covered chest and bumped arms with Orland. “You sure you don’t want to have fun with her first?”
Venomous. Sex with him would be deadly due to the poison secreted from his bodily fluids. Sasha glanced Orland’s way expecting him to protest. His cold glare sent a shiver down her back. A glimmer of glee reflected from the dark eyes as if he might be considering it.
Sasha stiffened, shoulders back. Whatever he chose she wouldn’t beg for mercy because clearly he planned to show none. “What exactly do you think to do? Cuffing me for arrest when I have no charges is a waste.”
What was his end game? Had he truly set her up to come here only to taunt her? Surely the idea of competition wouldn’t result in this unnecessary attack. Sasha wasn’t the only Bounty Retriever around.
“As soon as I’m free, I’ll report you to the Retrievers Association.” As far as threats went, it wasn’t her best.
Orland’s chuckle conveyed the same opinion. Sasha straightened as much as she could and met his gloating stare.
They all worked as freelancers. Easy credits for the return of stolen or missing items and sometimes a hunt for a fugitive. To her dismay, she and Orland tended to work the same zones which was how they’d met. Within days of knowing him, it was clear she was the better Bounty Retriever, thus receiving more client requests than him. Another sign their brief attempt at a relationship was doomed for failure.
Although she tended to get the first point of contact from clients in this zone, others received an equal amount of calls. She didn’t handle every available case offered. Her work spoke for itself. As did Orland’s.
Lazy defined Orland’s work ethic. He went for the easy jobs and cheated on the harder ones. Like now. A prime example of cheating by removing an opponent. At least the Retrievers Association took matters like this seriously. They didn’t want their bounties fighting one another.
“I’m not worried about the RA. Once you disappear things will be a lot smoother for me around here. No more Sasha to contend with.”
Her stomach tightened. More than their bitter bantering, more than his envy of her success, the words had a tone of finality to it. Standing face to face, arms behind her, Sasha glared. “If you go through with this, my life goal will be to seek revenge. I won’t rest until I pay you back. I’ll destroy your reputation. No one will ever work with you again.”
Orland merely laughed in her face and held her stunner aloft in a taunting manner. “Where you’re going, you’ll have more important things on your mind to worry about.”
Glancing from the Serpine and back to Orland, Sasha knew she had one chance. Her claws sawed frantically at the plasti-cuffs. In this instance, Orland’s reputation for using cheap quality products worked in her favor. Otherwise nothing would break through the bonds.
Sasha let a small smile tease her lips and thrust her breasts forward. “Maybe we can work things out.”
His eyes predictably dropped. Only a little longer. Just enough time to keep him talking and her hands would be free.
“I don’t have an interest in working anything out.”
The sudden release of tension from her wrists registered and Sasha growled as she leaped across the short distance prepared to rip his face to shreds. Her fellow Argoran stunned her mid-step.
Sasha yelped and hit the ground, feeling the jolt to her bones. With what little mobility she had, her head tipped to the side. Another smug grin crossed Orland’s face as he came to kneel beside her. His features grew wavy. “Looks like it’s time for us to say goodbye, dear Sasha.”
Maniacal laughter followed as darkness encroached.
“Bye, Sasha,” the serpine echoed.
When she awakened in the cage later, Sasha knew she was in deep trouble. Dangerous high voltage electro-bars insured she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Orland set his trap perfect. Sasha often traveled for work without communication and no one would find her silence and disappearance unusual.
A few acquaintances might become concerned, but they’d brush it off
to her over zealous focus on her work as a retriever. There may have also been a few times in her past when she went off without notice because of tricky assignments. Maybe more than a few. Except in this instance, it would be as a result of Orland’s duplicity.
Dread rolled through her. In spite of her efforts to remain calm, a low snarl broke past her lips. “You’ll pay for this, Orland.”
Muttering the threat gave her strength. She tried to convince herself she’d been through worst. The small reminder bolstered her courage. As long as she believed she’d get out of this, nothing else mattered. Another deep breath and Sasha turned around to take stock of her situation.
Around her a row of cages lined one wall. Each contained a single occupant. Some slumped in their cage perhaps still stunned, others curled in corners, bodies huddled into a small ball. Alarm trickled along her senses. Not typical. What exactly did Orland have planned to get rid of her? The variety of life forms raised another flag.
Engines rumbled to life and the grated floor of the cage she’d been loaded in vibrated beneath her feet. Sasha turned toward the exit of the cargo ship at the sound of raised voices. Uniformed guards leaped through the opening under the closing bay doors. With a metal clang, it slid shut, the sound one of permanence.
The guards sauntered toward her, their faces shielded by matte helmets with tinted visors. Sasha flexed her unbound hands and released her claws on a loud snick. At least she no longer wore the cuffs.
“What am I doing here? What’s going on?”
They walked toward each of the cages one by one and made notations on their data pads. Once finished, they left, never saying a word to her or any of the captives.
Feraki! This didn’t look good at all.
Chapter 2
“I don’t like this,” Arak announced.
Jaron strapped on his protective vest over his black uniform shirt. He glanced up at his team mate. “What’s not to like? We went over this several times and everyone was in agreement. I’m going to lay in wait on the hill overlooking the empty airstrip where Lothar is due to arrive shortly.”
Geile and Gregir sat next to one another on the shuttle, weapons gripped tightly in their hands. Geile snorted. “Torkel didn’t say for us to leave the designated drop zone.”
Jaron sighed and stood, stomping his feet to rid them of nervous energy. “Yes, but we didn’t know it was further than the strip. I’ll scout ahead and comm as soon as Lothar arrives. If he arrives.”
Because more and more Jaron believed odds were in favor of this being a complete waste of time and energy.
“I’m the better shot. I should go.” Gregir hunched over in his seat, fondling his sniper laser.
“I’m faster and have an A rating in stealth. We’re not deviating from the plan.” For as long as he’d been Team Leader, Jaron never heard the others complain this much about the parameters of an assignment before anything happened.
Glancing around, he sensed their discontent. He sought to reassure. “Listen, nothing’s going to go wrong. We take Lothar in for questioning and hopefully knock his growing empire back.”
If The Collector showed, all the better.
Davar who had remained silent up until now shifted in his seat. His blond hair and blue eyes were the typical look of Enotians. “Jaron’s right. Keep comms open.”
“Done.” Jaron tapped the small bud inserted in his ear then fingered the almost unnoticed button on his collar. “Check my tracker.”
“Tracker is live and active,” Arak said.
With all the details confirmed, no one else voiced an argument and Jaron departed. Backtracking a bit, he half-ran, half-jogged to the appropriate site they’d mapped out to wait. Laying against the grass, dampness soaked through the front of his shirt. Jaron ignored the discomfort. “I’m in position.”
Arak clicked in, voice low in his comm. “Any signs of activity?”
Jaron pressed his eye to his scope. He had visuals on four moving bodies. The sun began its slow descent, but thanks to a few adjustments from Bane, he could switch from different grades of resolution to infrared imaging. He assumed the males patrolling the perimeter to be guards. Not that any of them wore a uniform, their clothing showing a bit of age. The weapons on the other hand were of high quality.
“Guards only.”
Suddenly the four men jumped into a flurry of activity.
“Incoming.” Davar’s low murmur came through the comm next.
Jaron angled his gaze upward and a sleek silver shuttle with trimmed wings and silent engines swooped in. “Visual confirmed.”
Landing gear whined as it prepared its descent. After hovering for a few moments, it gently thudded to the ground dispersing a cloud of dirt. The side door slid open and a ramp lowered with a thump.
Pulse skipping, Jaron held his breath and released it slowly. Lothar. It had to be. Movement from the left pulled his gaze away. A vehicle sped into the clearing and skidded to a rough stop. The business partner. Now they’d find out if The Collector was involved. “We have an unknown party heading this way.”
A slender man exited the lone hover-car pulling onto the air strip. Jaron studied the confident walk, the arrogant tilt to the dark head. “I need an identity on the new arrival. Now.”
“Sensors picking up two life forms still in the hover-car. As for the shuttle, some sort of shielding is preventing us from getting a confirmed reading. Not sure how many it’s carrying, but specs reveal its capable of holding seven passengers.”
“Acknowledged, Arak.” Jaron lowered his head to the ground, his chin brushing the dewy ground. His gaze locked onto the entrance of the shuttle.
Come on. Come on. He needed it to be Lothar.
Black boots appeared first in the entry way then the bulky frame of a Marenian with burnished skin of red gold and curved black horns jutting from the sides of his head.
“Confirmation of target. Lothar disembarking.” Jaron’s heart sped up at finally confronting the head of the slave trade spreading throughout their part of the world. They’d been chasing Lothar for a while now.
“Get me a close up image of the new arrival, Jaron. We need to confirm who Lothar is meeting.”
Arak’s suggestion prompted him. Jaron shifted his weight the slightest, not wanting to give away his position. Reaching carefully into his front pocket, he pulled out a mini-recorder and sent several rapid fire vids of the man clasping Lothar’s forearms in greeting.
Perspiration beaded Jaron’s forehead as he waited for his team to identify the newcomer. Seconds ticked by, but he maintained his position while every nerve vibrated with the need to act. The guards appeared more relaxed as they clustered together in a group. They stood slightly apart from Lothar and the other man. Laughter burst out occasionally from them along with broad smiles and a congenial atmosphere which had Jaron tensing.
Arak’s curse hit his comm right before Jaron was about to ask for an update. “You won’t believe this, Jaron.”
“Problem?” Last minute surprises never boded well. Jaron leaned his eye back into the scope, taking in the dark hair, tailored pants and shirt in muddy brown that blended with the landscape.
“You are looking at Dr. Salem Kirkem. Otherwise known as The Collector.”
Jaron’s pulse jumped and he echoed Arak’s curse. Their intel was accurate. Dr. Kirkem was wanted by every legal entity and yet he seemed constantly to evade capture. Not as high a priority as Lothar, but the Jutaks had their own reasons for wanting him destroyed.
“It’s good Kyele isn’t here.”
Dr. Kirkem was on Kyele’s automatic kill list for buying Joni through the slave trade and abusing her with his experiments.
“I’m updating Torkel now. He wants to comm in.”
“Go.”
Several clicks in his ear comm and then his Unit Leader’s clear voice rang out. “Jaron, I’m approving Geile and Gregir to join you. Do not move forward until they reach you. Mission status is upgraded to critical.”
“The commander wants him brought in alive if possible.”
Government officials always wanted the result which caused the teams the most difficulty.
“I have Lothar in my sight.” Jaron breathed out slowly as he murmured the words in his comm. He wanted nothing more than to kill Dr. Kirkem for what he’d done to Joni, but would settle for the Marenian who’d helped plot Faye’s kidnapping. “We can end this here.”
“Wait for back up, Jaron.” Torkel barked the order.
“Understood.” Although he didn’t agree, Jaron would wait for the rest of his team before making a move.
“Something about this set up feels wrong.”
Jaron stiffened as Arak echoed his earlier thoughts. The half-shifter was not to be ignored if his senses picked up something awry. Meanwhile the target they planned to capture bent his head and whispered furiously. Dr Kirkem’s body language screamed offended by whatever Lothar said and the guards gathering closer didn’t look pleased either.
From behind the arguing pair, another Marenian descended the shuttle. Twisted black horn amidst the shoulder length black hair confirmed his identity without much effort.
“We now have Arlo joining the fray.” Jaron adjusted his laser a little to the right. Maybe Torkel would allow him to shoot this one who caused more than his share of trouble.
The back door to the hover-car opened and a man exited, leading a woman wearing a leash. When he stopped and snapped out a command, she crouched on the ground. Her face was battered and blood stained, but the glare in her eyes could have taken any of the males down if given the chance.
“The remaining passengers have left the hover-car. Male, tall, race indiscernible along with a woman.” Jaron studied her slender form. “Female prisoner. Red hair, tanned skin. Can’t tell more with her head ducked down. Appears humanoid.”
Torkel murmured something he missed. Tension flowed through him, but Jaron took a deep breath striving for his calm on a mission. Below, the men concluded their business.