Losing the thin tone of camaraderie the conversation had taken, Nikol straightened. “You should leave now, Jutak.”
Torkel inclined his head in acquiescence. He turned to leave, but some grain of...curiosity for lack of a better word had him hesitating. Needing to see Nikol’s face as he asked, he spun back around. “This family...are they...well?”
Lothar was his birth father, but Torkel cared nothing for his evil self. He wanted to know if he had a maman who wondered what had happened to him. How or why did he end up on Enotia? Those were the questions he’d never thought about beyond his early childhood years. Now he had someone who knew about him. Who he was before Shaya and Marlin made him theirs.
Nikol leaned against the wall again and crossed his legs at the ankle. He tipped his head to the side and their gazes locked. “Stay away from Marenia, Torkel Alonson. There is no family you’d wish to call your own there.”
The rage pulsing through his harsh statement gave Torkel pause. He blurted out the next question before he could stop himself. “Not even the woman who birthed me?”
“Dead. At Lothar’s instigation.” Nikol’s lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “Your father wanted your mother killed and she was. That is the family you escaped.”
Heat rose around the collar at his neck. Sadness with what could have been? He should feel something more after hearing this, except his childhood memories were filled with lullabies sung in a sweet voice, soft hands holding his as he learned to walk. The strongest memory of all was of his maman screaming at medics while tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she demanded they save her baby during his horn eruption sickness.
Shaya. Shaya was his maman.
It was hard to feel anything more than remorse for this unknown woman who more than likely had suffered untold horrors under Lothar’s rule. “And you? What about you?”
Nikol’s mouth torqued up into a sneer. “Nothing. I am nothing to you.”
His anger returned on a surge. Torkel got up and close with the bars as he exploded. “You are a criminal. You are son to one of the worst crime lords running an empire on slavery and fear. Where is your shame?!”
The last came out in a near roar as Torkel remembered what his Chosen had suffered at the hands of the Marenians when she’d been taken and put in a sex slave auction.
“And yet you are a proud Jutak warrior,” Nikol returned in a mocking voice. “Beloved by your parents and those of Enotia. Be careful of your arrogance for the same blood you belittle flows through your veins as well.”
A muscle ticked in Torkel’s jaw. Why was he trying to reach through to someone who clearly wasn’t interested in changing his ways? Torkel let every bit of disgust he felt show on his face. “If I can be better then so can you. You choose to be this way.”
Nikol spun toward one of the solid walls and slammed his fist into it repeatedly. “You dare!” Thump. “You owe me!” Thump. “You have no idea what I did for you. No idea what I sacrificed! You wouldn’t have this good life if it wasn’t for me, brother.” Thump. Thump. Thump.
They both froze. Nikol was breathing hard, chest rising with the anger he’d vented.
“Wh—” Torkel blanched and started to question the unexpected show of temper.
Nikol cursed and stormed away to throw himself on the narrow mattress. “I’m done, Jutak. Interrogation over. Let me know when Lothar has sent for me to go home. And he will. Believe it. Lothar will do anything to have me back.”
Torkel tried to understand what had just happened. There was a truth revealed somewhere in that verbal explosion but he couldn’t fully parse through it.
But apparently Nikol was done. No matter what Torkel asked, the Marenian ignored him and stared at the ceiling above him as he lay on the bed.
Which also meant he didn’t get the chance to ask Nikol if he was nothing to him then why had he killed his own man and risked himself to save Torkel by leaping over the ramp.
Chapter 21
Patience tended to be Bane’s strong suit except this time his personal involvement wouldn’t let him rest as his Unit Leader had recommended. Two hours after his talk with Torkel, Bane headed to the comm center, hoping for an update from Jaron.
He couldn’t stand to wait any longer for details on Dharma’s past or any clue as to why she’d done what she did. He freely admitted he hoped Jaron discovered something to allow him to understand—perhaps forgive her. It was a stretch but it was all Bane had because his feelings were in a tangle over Mischka. Which was another thing he constantly struggled to correct in his head. Dharma or Mischka?
Bane opened the door to the comm center and came to a complete stop. Jaron sat in a chair in front of a messy desk. The glow of the multi-screen console highlighted his Chosen’s brown skin as she sat crossways on his lap. Jaron had one arm supporting her back while the other ran up and down her leather-clad thigh. For her part, Sasha had her arms looped about Jaron’s neck and the two were lip to lip in a passionate kiss.
Neither noticed his arrival. When Sasha twisted about to straddle Jaron’s lap, he released a guttural groan and clutched her close. Her low rolling purr stirred Bane to action and he cleared his throat before they could go any further.
Both jumped, Jaron’s hands clamping down on Sasha’s hips as she attempted to leap from his lap. Brows lowered, Jaron muttered, “Bad timing as always, Bane.”
He snort laughed and came further into the room. “It’s good to see you, Sasha.”
She smoothly slid off Jaron’s lap despite his efforts to keep her in place and adjusted the strap of her black synth-leather jumpsuit to cover her exposed breasts. Her smile was warm and her green eyes held a hint of lingering arousal. “Welcome back, Bane. Congratulations on your recovery.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“I can leave you two alone.” Sasha ran a hand over Jaron’s mussed hair, her reluctance evident.
“He won’t be long.” Jaron caught her hand and tugged until she fell sideways back onto his lap. He glared at Bane to emphasize the point.
Envy stabbed Bane. He wanted what Jaron and some of his fellow teammates had. The ease of being with a Chosen, confident in a love to see you through the dark days. Why couldn’t Mischka be who she was supposed to be?
“It’s about the Marenian named Targa, right?” Ignoring Jaron’s huff of protest, Sasha wiggled away and moved to sit on the edge of the desk.
Bane nodded and shut the door behind him. “Yes, but she was using the name Dharma when I met her. Apparently, her real name is Mischka.”
With a grunt, Jaron spun in his chair and moved his hands over the holo-screens before him. Lights flickered in a dazzling array from the speed he used. A summarized report in neat order appeared. “Well, she had more names than that. Lucky for you, I knew you wouldn’t wait long for details. I tracked nine aliases and several cases in which she was identified as a key player or responsible party.”
“Working for Lothar?” Bane wanted the clarification.
“Yes. She’s Marenian. Not sure about what happened to her horns. She definitely had them when I was held by The Collector. No record of an accident or anything to explain the change.”