Knight, Dee S. - Bride of the Pryde (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Outside the wall she’d be at the mercy of the citizens, which might be worse if it came out she worked for the government. Pheron filtered into the city from beyond the wall. Going out undercover was one thing—she’d come prepared for that. But slipping through the wall without her story established, without proper clothing and backup from the office staff, well, it would be suicide.

  Fortunately, she had her shoulder bag. Lord only knew how she’d managed to hold onto it as she ran and scrambled for cover. At least she had a change of clothes, her identification, and some Inter-exchange notes. She would use her skills as an undercover operative to get lost in another world.

  Every few feet, a Gov-man, obvious by his demeanor and attire, lounged against the wall, watching the passing crowd. She walked near one and stopped as though looking for something in her bag.

  He spoke into his COMM. “No sign of her. We’ve been here an hour. I think she hit the monorail instead. She could be outside the city and on her way to anywhere.” He listened for a moment. “Okay, yeah. We’ll wait as long as you want, but I’m telling you—” He rolled his eyes at another man standing a few feet away. “Yes, sir. I heard you, sir.” He shook his head at the other man. “Dumb ass. If she was coming, she’d be here already. We’ve looked at every bitch in the terminal.”

  “They’re pissed because one of the”—he crooked his fingers in the air—“super agents lost her.”

  “And we pay for it by wasting time here.”

  “Same old story.”

  “Yeah, things never change.”

  Susan walked on, breathing a sigh of relief. If these guys were any indication of whom they had looking for her, she might make it out of here yet. But where, and how? There was no one she could contact at the DAT. Someone there had betrayed her, and until she discovered who, the agency was off-limits. She had spent her life in the shadows, looking for those set to terrorize her world, through whatever means, on whatever planet. Lisle was one of the few friends she’d allowed herself.

  The image of Lisle’s foot sticking out of the vault, shoe half-off, brought quick tears to her eyes. She banished them. Later. Later you can cry. Now you have to think.

  She spied a ladies’ room and headed for it at a leisurely pace, trying not to draw any attention. Once inside, she hurried to a stall. For a few seconds she could be alone and not worry too much that someone would shoot her.

  Then someone came in. An enemy? Susan pulled out her Renthaur and held it steady, relaxing only when whoever was there began to hum and run water at the sink. Susan returned the weapon to her bag and finished her business.

  She had the kernel of a plan. The DAT would have alerted shuttle-port security about her, so she couldn’t go to them for help. She’d have to go undercover after all. The trick was to find someone about her size and build. She had enough cash to purchase a ticket to Olympus III, a neutral planet where she’d left a secret stash of money, clothing, and a little apartment. There she’d have time to figure out what was happening and plan an attack. For now she needed to get off this planet, and she would accept whatever cover presented itself and play the part for as long as it took.

  Stepping out of the stall, she looked at a mirrored reflection of the hummer and saw that fate had given her a break, finally. Her bathroom mate was a blonde close to her height and weight. The other woman’s breasts were smaller, and so was her waist, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Hi,” the blonde said with a hesitant smile.

  “Hey,” Susan replied. She looked for something to use as a rope and gag. She didn’t want to kill the woman if it wasn’t necessary, just borrow her identity for a while.

  She looked at Susan in the mirror. “You aren’t by chance on your way to M3859, are you?”

  M3859 was a scrap heap of a planet in the Hodge Galaxy. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought it would be nice to have another woman to talk to on the trip.” She giggled, an edgy, brittle sound in the cold, tiled bathroom. “I’m going to be married, and damned if I’m just as nervous as when I first went on stage.”

  Time seemed to speed up and fly by. Any moment someone could come in and her chance would be gone. Think, McAllister, think!

  “So, you’re an actress?”

  “Well, I was on the stage.” She shrugged. “It’s all the same,” she added. Leaning toward Susan’s mirrored reflection she lowered her voice and said, “Though not to my parents in small-town Illinois.”

  Outside the secure area, then, where “on the stage” could mean anything from real theatre to stripping to performing a variety of lewd acts for private clients.

  There was nothing for it. Lacking something to bind the woman, Susan would have to knock her out. Unfortunately, that provided only a small window of opportunity. If she couldn’t find a shuttle scheduled to leave almost immediately, she’d be caught. Killing her outright would be safest, but murder was a last resort, and not for an innocent like this. On the other hand, if this had been Vault Man standing beside her? He’d already be bleeding out. Your chance will come. Stay focused.

  “Going on stage must be exciting.”

  Seeming to calm down by talking it all out, the blonde fluffed her shoulder-length hair, checked her teeth, and pulled up the top of her halter. The elastic material stretched over her breasts, down over her ribs, and ended in the curve of her waist. Low on her hips hung a pair of jeans covered with appliqués of different flowers and vines. Some of the vines twirled suggestively up and around her thighs. Sandals completed her outfit. Where in hell was the woman’s sense of fashion?

  “I really wasn’t very good at…you know, dancing and acting and stuff, so I decided to try something different. Really different.” She bit her bottom lip. “I signed up to be a Galactic Bride. I’m going to meet my new husband on M3859.”

  Any man who lived there would have to buy a bride. No woman in her right mind would go voluntarily.

  “I’ve never been farther than thirty centimes away from home before.” The woman glanced around the room conspiratorially. Lowering her voice, she said, “The agency told me the man was pretty well-to-do, but…but an old man. I bought something to make sure I could get his juices running. Something special, you know?”

  What was she trying to say? Libido-enhancing drugs had been legal since the twentieth century. Susan reached into her bag. Her laser pistol fit nicely in her hand.

  “But now I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. What if I get caught with the stuff? What if I hate it on M3859?” Nervousness returned in the crack of her voice and her shaking hand on the sink counter. “Am I doing the right thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Susan said, withdrawing her pistol and striking the woman on the side of the head. “But I know I am.”

  Working with unbelievable speed, Susan stripped the blonde and laid her in the stall beside the waste eliminator. With her arms twisted back and her hands tucked under her body, she’d be stiff and cramped when she came to and hopefully unable to move too rapidly.

  In the course of removing the woman’s clothing, Susan discovered she wasn’t really a blonde at all. But thanks to the woman’s wig, Susan became one before applying a quick sweep of makeup. She pulled out her box of colored contacts and found the ones that would complete her disguise. Before venturing out of the bathroom, Susan gave herself a quick appraisal. The elastic halter clung to her breasts, making them look larger than her normal thirty-six-C cup. As she suspected, the vines climbed the jeans’ legs to end in a large pink flower appliquéd at the crotch. The blonde wig looked good. She was ready to go wherever fate was sending her.

  She dug out a shuttle ticket from the woman’s pocketbook. Her name was Shanna Ziegler. Deeper in the purse she found a playbill titled The Dancing Talent of Danessa Vanessa, and sure enough, the hologram on the front displayed the woman now hunched in a pile in the stall. With a stage name like that, Shanna needn’t have worried her parents would track her down, that was certain.
r />   Susan jammed her shoulder bag into the suitcase. Carrying the pocketbook and pulling the woman’s rolling suitcase, she exited the bathroom, nearly bowling over a dark-suited Gov-man.

  Criminy.

  Chapter Two

  He reached out and put a huge paw of a hand on her shoulder. It took all of her willpower not to pull away and run. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” she said and mimicked a tinkling laugh like the woman in the bathroom had. “Just in a hurry to catch my flight.”

  “Well, be careful,” the G-man said, ogling her breasts. He smirked and finally let go of her arm.

  “Bastard,” she whispered under her breath and made off at a near run to reach Gate 54N, two concourses away, according to the posted shuttleport map.

  Three minutes brought her within sight of the gate.

  Shit! I missed the damn thing? No throng of passengers waited at the gate, no attendant stood to accept tickets, and the door to the shuttleway was closed. Instead, a lone man lounged against the wall, hands in pocket, reading a holographic magazine.

  Without seeming to, she cast a glance over her shoulder to see if she’d been followed. A chunky man in a black suit stalked the end of the hall where most people mingled. He stopped and turned her way. There was a bulge under his jacket where a laser pistol would be holstered. In a moment he would see her looking.

  She forced herself to stroll up to the man standing alone. He looked up, a question showing in the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. “Excuse me, but I have a ticket on the ship that is supposed to leave from this gate. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Maybe,” he said, and the hologram disappeared. He pushed off the wall and took his hands from his pockets. “You must be Shanna Ziegler.”

  “I prefer to be called Danessa Vanessa,” Susan said, trying to sound like the character she was trying to be. She turned enough to look behind her. Mr. Chunky was staring in their direction. She had to make this good. She cocked her hip and leaned toward the young man with the emerald eyes. “It’s my stage name, don’t you know. From when I was on the stage. Now I’m going to be married.”

  “Congratulations. But first you’re liable to be chastised.” He tapped a silver chronographer on his wrist. “We’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Nerves. I’ve been camped out in the bathroom trying to convince myself I’m doing the right thing.” The man at the end of the hall began a hesitant walk in their direction. “But I’m here now,” she said cheerfully. She fought to keep her voice and actions normal when her brain was screaming that she should grab the kid and run.

  “Then we’ll get on board.” He reached for Danessa’s carry-on and the handle of her rolling bag.

  She stopped him with a firm grip that had him look up in surprise. “Sorry, but I’ll keep this with me, if that’s okay.”

  “Fine.” He opened the door to the shuttleway and waited for her to go through. “The rest of your bags have already been stowed. Watch your step.”

  “Yeah, sure. I will.” As if she’d never boarded a shuttle before.

  One last time, Susan took a chance look behind. Mr. Chunky had stopped midway down the concourse. Legs braced, he pushed back his jacket. With one hand on his hip, he tipped his hat back on his head with the other. His gaze wasn’t disinterested.

  With a slight shudder, she accepted her new cover and stepped through the doorway—almost landing flat on her face when she missed the step down.

  * * * *

  Only Charlie’s quick reflexes saved her from falling flat on her face. And what a pretty face it is, too.

  In fact, all of her was pretty—more than pretty. She was hot, which might be enough to mitigate the captain’s anger at the delay. Still, in the shipping business, time is money, and this beauty’s case of premarital nerves had already cost a bundle.

  Holding her case in one hand and her elbow with the other, he ushered her down a short, covered walkway to another flight of steps. “I told you to watch your step,” he chided, “but you were busy watching that guy who was coming down the concourse. Is he the reason you were nervous about leaving?”

  “Um…yeah. He–he thinks he has a claim on me.”

  “But he doesn’t?” Charlie might as well get all the dirt right now. The captain was pissed enough without finding out later that trouble followed their passenger.

  “He absolutely doesn’t,” she said. She sounded pretty damn sure.

  They exited the shuttleway at the bottom of the stairs and walked to a small hover craft. She squirmed a little, as though uncomfortable.

  “I maybe should mention, I have a weapon with me. Did I need to do something with it?”

  A nervous woman and a gun. Bad combination. Damn. This’ll be one interesting flight. “The captain will want to secure it during the flight.”

  She seemed to consider that fact. “All right,” she said after a hesitation.

  Charlie stowed her bags and helped her aboard the craft. “I’m Charlie Sheridan, by the way.”

  She didn’t acknowledge the introduction. “I’m the last passenger to board, right? I mean, once the doors close that’s it, we’re ready to go?”

  That was an interesting question. Whether because of nerves or whatever, Danessa Vanessa was acting strangely.

  He got them underway before saying, “Danessa, you’re the only passenger.”

  “What?”

  Charlie took a moment to study her. Her face was small and delicate, highlighted by large, liquid-brown eyes. Under a blonde wig, which had pulled up in back when she stumbled, she’d stuffed shiny, dark-brown hair. Her luscious mouth had full, soft-looking lips that begged to be kissed.

  He would fantasize about that—and probably more, considering those tits, practically spilling out of that tight top, narrow waist, and legs that kept going and going. One kiss would set him on fire. He wouldn’t want to stop at a fantasy. And with flaring hips just made to hold onto when she rode his cock, who’d blame him?

  She’s on her way to get married, you slug.

  He concentrated on business, forcing his thoughts along other paths. “Intergalactic Brides did tell you that our ship is a freighter, right? It’s just you and our crew.”

  “Criminy,” she whispered.

  “I assure you, we’ll respect your privacy,” he said quickly. He pressed a button on his COMM unit.

  “Erik here.” The captain said only two words, but any member of his crew recognized the tightly controlled tension in his voice. The half-hour delay had been hell for a man to whom punctuality was sacred.

  “We’re on our way out now,” Charlie said.

  “About damn time,” Erik replied.

  “Captain, she’s carrying a weapon, a pistol I believe. I haven’t seen it.”

  “When you come aboard stow it in the weapons locker. Stow the rest of her bags in her cabin and show her to the bridge.”

  “Right. Out,” Charlie said.

  “Who was that?”

  “The captain, John Erik. He prefers to be called Erik,” Charlie said playfully, echoing her words.

  “People shouldn’t be allowed to have interchangeable names.”

  “As opposed to rhyming names, huh?” He added a smile to show he was teasing. The woman still had her weapon, after all.

  “He sounded a bit testy.”

  Charlie didn’t answer. He’d worked with John Erik for the past eight years, ever since gaining his pilot’s pin, and the man never stopped at testy. He was either a hundred percent with you or a hundred twenty percent pissed.

  “Well, I’ve had a bitch of a day, so I hope he knows his manners. I want to get on board and stay in my cabin. By the way, how long before we get under way?”

  “Once we get clearance we’ll be at mach in no time.”

  “Good.”

  She sounded calm, but one glance at her stiff posture and how her hands gripped the passenger-seat arms showed she was anything but. Charlie didn�
�t know if marriage nerves still plagued her or the thought of months of flight alone with the crew bothered her.

  “We have a long trip ahead of us, so try to relax and enjoy the ride. It will be several months before you meet your husband, and you don’t want to spend all that time stressed out, do you? I promise we’ll take good care of you.”

  “When do you expect to arrive in M3859?”

  “About three Earth months.”

  Her jaw clenched. Slowly, she nodded her head. Charlie could almost see the wheels turn in her head. The woman was calculating something, but what? The days she had to wait until her wedding night, when she revealed what was to all accounts a luscious, ripe body to her new husband?

  Lucky bastard.

  “I don’t suppose the captain would consider a slight detour, would he?”

  That was strange. Guess she hadn’t been wishing the time away until she was in hubby’s arms, after all. “You can ask, but I’d wait awhile. As you mentioned, he’s a bit pissed right now.”

  She considered this and then nodded again, this time as though she’d made a decision. “Tell me about the crew.”

  “There are three of us, all pilots. I’m the newest, and I’ve been on board for eight years. Adam Phelps, he’s the XO—that’s executive officer—has been with Erik for almost fifteen years, since Erik first bought Erik’s Pryde.”

  “The Pride?”

  Didn’t she know the name of the ship where she was about to spend the next few months of her life? “Erik’s Pryde. P-R-Y-D-E. He’s from some place in the Euro grid, and it’s their old-world spelling of pride, the emotion. The ship has a little age on her, but she moves right along.” He checked to see how she was absorbing all this. In actuality, she seemed almost disinterested.

  “Anyway, there’s me, Adam, and the captain.”

  “Who wants to be called Erik instead of John.”

  “Right. He says John’s too ordinary a name.”