Likely, no one would even notice. After all, she’d made it clear that she planned to leave them behind once the sale had gone through. With Meja under arrest, the rest of the crew wouldn’t be any wiser as to why she hadn’t returned.
The idea made his stomach clench. It was the sort of decision his family would make. Driven by profit without consideration of the costs. Shame burned in his mouth for having entertained the thought in abstract.
The roar of engines on the street sent his heart racing. He yanked her into an alcove and tried to think of a better place to hide if it was the bounty hunters drawing closer.
“See what relaxing gets you?” he whispered. The street had few options that would help them hide. Locked doors and a shallow fountain tucked in another alcove across the street. There was barely cover, let alone a place they could avoid being seen.
“I’m pretty sure they’d have been chasing us whether we relaxed or not.” Her tone was light, and when he looked, her eyes crinkled at the corners. In spite of everything, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
“You know we’re going to die, right? Or at best we’re going to get trussed up and dragged in as a bounty.”
Her crooked half-smile vanished so quickly that he felt its absence like a physical pain. “We’ll think of something. I trust you.”
The words made him too aware of her presence in the tiny alcove; she stood close enough that he could feel the warmth of her, though she had been careful not to brush up against him accidentally. Trust. And he’d thought about betraying her. Sour brushed the back of his throat. “You don’t know me well enough to trust me.”
Her smile returned, but this time it felt…sad. He wasn’t certain why that was the emotion he associated with it, but as soon as he connected the thought, it seemed to fit. Her hand came up, stopping an inch from his cheek. “I know you better than you think.”
Behind them, the engines turned off in a new direction. Their pursuers, if that’s who it had been, had moved on. He noticed it, filed it away with the small part of his brain that wasn’t hyperaware of her palm, the folds in her pale skin, the slight pinks and golds glowing beneath the almost translucent white. Against his better judgment, he leaned into her palm until it molded to his cheek.
His eyes closed, the heat of her skin a comfort against his face. He could smell the faint acrid aroma of the Sentinel’s disinfectant soap and a hint of something floral. Lavender maybe? He couldn’t put a finger on it.
Her thumb brushed over his lip, tracing from the corner to the cupid’s bow. He froze, trying to remember the last time he’d allowed someone to get so close to him, to actually relax in the presence of another person. He pressed a kiss to her thumb-tip, relishing the contact of another person for something other than clinical necessity. It would pass, everything did, but for a few heartbeats he could afford to be lost in the touch.
“Tranq darts are cheating, you know.” The voice echoed down the street, followed by the ominous click of a rifle being cocked. “Turn over the asset, and we’ll give you an hour head start.”
Meja’s hand dropped to his shoulder at the sound of the female hunter’s voice. He felt it close on the strap of Collins’s bag and squeezed her wrist. “Don’t be a fool. Right now he’s the only thing keeping us alive.”
She nodded and released the bag. “I’m out of darts. Again.”
“We’ll think of something, right?” He sounded even less optimistic than he felt.
She smiled and nodded. “Of course we will.”
The male hunter sounded exasperated. “Look, you’ve got a ten count. Hand over the asset, or we’re taking you and it.”
“Oh for the love of—” Meja shouted, her voice echoing in the tight space. “It’s a cat. Can you say cat? It’s not a damn asset.”
The urge to laugh bubbled up from his gut. Trust her to take offense at the wrong part of the offer. His smile cracked, and a chuckle leaked out. He called from the alcove. “I don’t suppose you’d believe if we said we stole it from a person in a club, would you?”
There was a supersonic crack of small arms fire, and the brickwork above their heads shattered in an explosion of dust and rock shards. The man called back down the street to them. “That’s a no.”
“Can’t blame me for trying,” he muttered.
Another loud crack cut through the air, and Layth tucked Meja between himself and the wall as the façade erupted into rubble. The stink of ozone seared his nostrils. Stunners, he realized. They had stunners. Of course they would. It was the best way to take a target alive.
He slipped the bag with Collins in it from his shoulder to hers. “I’ll distract them, you run.”
“No,” she replied, her voice tight. “Together or not at all…”
“Then it looks like it’s going to be together,” Barr’s words rumbled into the small alcove. Layth turned to see the burly boatswain all but blocking out the light from the street behind him. “Your two friends are taking a little nap.” He leaned back out toward the street. “Sheri, he’s unconscious, you can stop.”
“Son of a bitch hit me in the tit!” Another meaty slap as she meted out whatever justice she’d deemed appropriate.
Barr turned back to them, apparently amused by their silence. “We haven’t got all day though. Someone probably called the cops on our little scuffle, so if you want to get back to the ship, now would be a good time.”
Meja leaned heavily against him, and his arm tightened around her reflexively before he could think to push her away. Her voice was strained. “There’s a little complication…” She slumped farther forward.
Layth adjusted his grip and felt something warm and sticky on his palm as a fresh rush of fear overwhelmed any adrenaline he had left.
9
Layth had Barr lay Meja across the passenger benches in the cargo hold. It was too low, but it would be more comfortable than anyplace else he could work. For her, at least. He’d have to have his knees tucked up under the seat to be close enough. Still, he’d done more serious surgeries in worse conditions. He leaned forward, touching her jaw until her eyes focused on him. “I need to move your clothes. The easiest, least painful way will be to cut them. Are you okay with that, or should Sheri do it?”
A shake of her head, almost imperceptible. “Trust.”
The word made his heart hurt. He needed to focus.
With Barr’s help he turned Meja onto her side so he could cut away the blood-soaked cloth. The emergency kit on the shuttle was crap, and he’d raided it too many times to keep the supplies up in the med bay, but it would do until he could get her stabilized for the return to the Sentinel. “Crack that blanket open. Try to cover the rest of her, will you? I don’t want her to get cold.”
Barr moved to obey, his usual surliness gone. It made Layth appreciate the man’s professionalism. Beneath the cloth, the wound was ragged but not as deep as he’d feared. Military plasmafire was bad, but it tended to cauterize wounds as it created them. Slug throwers like the bounty hunters used were more brutal, tumbling through muscle and organs and leaving a trail of damage in their wake. In this case, the plaster and brick had taken the majority of the bullet’s force.