Even Amiriska wore them.
He stared at the arms he’d never seen the Lasaran princess bare before. She looked positively tiny beside the men, yet utterly fierce.
Daggers, swords, and other weaponry littered every table, as if those present had just disarmed after returning from a mission.
Or a hunt.
All eyes fixed upon the center of the room, where Ami’s daughter Adira—her orange hair standing out like a beacon against so much black—grinned as she played with a dark-haired boy about the same age.
Janwar studied the gathering. Those warriors looked as if they would rip apart anyone who threatened the little ones in their midst. “Who are they?” he asked, curious to know more of Simone’s home and what her life had been like before they’d met.
“My brethren,” she answered, a catch in her voice.
When he glanced at her, his chest tightened.
Tears welled in her eyes as she pointed at the screen. “That one there, the one holding a wooden block out to Adira, is Marcus, Ami’s lifemate. Those two there, the imposing ones seated close to Ami, are Seth and David.”
Recognizing the names, he returned his attention to the screen. The man she identified as Seth was noticeably taller than the others, with tanned skin and black hair that fell to his shoulders. Though his posture was relaxed as he reclined on a sofa, he nevertheless emanated power and an air of command. The one she identified as David was just as big, with skin as dark as deep space and long thick locks that were drawn back at the nape and flowed over his shoulder to pool on the cushion beside him. He, too, emanated power and authority.
These were the men Simone considered father figures.
“No one,” she said, “can get past them. I don’t care what technology they use. Seth and David are so powerful that the rest of us look like toddlers by comparison. And everyone you see in this picture would die before they let someone kidnap Adira. Or Ami.”
She cycled through similar images. Every warrior seemed to adore the children. “Teddy bears,” she whispered as she stopped at another picture.
In this one, Simone stood in the center, smiling, with ten or twelve men clustered around her. Seth and David stood at her back, towering over her.
Janwar smiled. All of the men towered over her and looked like they were twice or thrice her weight with muscle. They also wore the black soldier garb she favored and sported multiple weapons.
A sniffle yanked his attention back to Simone.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she flipped through more images, a tremulous smile on her lips. “Damn, I miss them.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he drew her closer and pressed a kiss to her hair. “You’ll see them again.”
“Only on video comms,” she replied sadly.
Janwar shook his head. “You’re forgetting how fast the Tangata is. If you want to see your brethren again after we’ve rescued your friends, I’ll take you to Earth.”
Her face lit with hope as her glowing amber gaze shot to his. “Really?”
“As often as you wish.” At least he would if she remained on the Tangata and didn’t continue to Lasara to guard her friends as she’d initially intended. If that happened, he might never see her again.
He didn’t even want to think about that possibility.
Reaching up, she cupped his jaw in her free hand and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”
His pulse sped up. Did that mean she intended to stay with him?
“The Gathendien ship just appeared on long-range radar,” Elchan announced suddenly.
Janwar stiffened. “Heading toward the base or away from it?”
“Toward it.”
“How far from the moon is it?”
Elchan tapped his console. “Looks like they’re four days out at their current speed.”
Simone rested a hand on Janwar’s arm. “How far is that for us?”
“We’ll reach the ship tomorrow and the base a day after.”
She tucked her phone away. “Then I guess it’s time we choose a plan.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Two hours later, Janwar stood in Bay 3, feet planted a shoulders’ width apart, arms crossed over his chest. Simone lingered beside him, shifting restlessly as they watched preparations unfold.
After an intense discussion that had twice erupted into heated arguments, they had settled on a plan. Only two of the Tangata’s crew were content with it. T-4 bustled back and forth with the bubbling excitement of a child who’d just been told his parents were taking him to the renowned Wadjerwa Animal Sanctuary. Kova was satisfied, too, and studiously ignored his brother’s glower as he toted gear to a C-23 with an open hatch.
Simone bit her lip and looked pensive. The rest of them…
Well, they’d been here before. Many times.
He stifled a sigh. Kova always volunteered for the most dangerous operations. Janwar had never been able to determine if the younger Rakessian had a death wish or simply did it because he believed he had less to lose if bura went sideways.
As always, Srok’a was furious.
Janwar would feel the same way if Krigara perpetually volunteered for the roughest missions. A pang of guilt struck as he recalled those first few years after he and his cousin had fled their homeworld. Janwar had put his life on the line dozens of times in his efforts to keep them both fed and sheltered. He’d even fought a few times in the same arena Simone had battled the Dotharian in on Promeii 7.
Pulcra’s father had owned it then. And there had been no Dotharian, only vicious, bloody bouts between slaves and anyone desperate enough to fight them for credits. Pulcra didn’t remember it. He was too young at the time. And Janwar had been a scrawny kid with short hair, no beard, and barely enough skill to stay alive. Nothing would’ve made him stand out to the crowds that called for his defeat and cheered their favorite fighters.
Somehow, he had managed to make it through each match. But he probably would’ve died either from blood loss or infection settling into his wounds if one of the local medics—a good male swimming in a sea of bad—hadn’t hunted him down after each match and tended his injuries.
To this day, Janwar still delivered medical supplies he liberated from enemies—and others he purchased—to that same medic on Promeii 7. T had made another delivery in android form while Janwar, Simone, and Soval had met Nandara at the bar.
Janwar hated that Krigara had most likely suffered the same anxiety and anger Srok’a always did when Kova went on missions like this. But at least Krigara had known Janwar did it not out of self-loathing or because he felt he held little worth but because they would’ve starved to death if he hadn’t.
Kova strode past with more gear.
In a few minutes, he and T-4 would depart in a C-23 and sneak over to the Gathendien ship. Once they attached the stealth craft to the hull, they would cut their way in. T had selected a point of entry that would put them close to a data access room he could use to infiltrate the system—something Simone called hacking—and scramble their comms so any messages the ship tried to send wouldn’t reach their destinations. Then the two would use a combination of the ship’s specs and life-form sensors to navigate the maze of corridors and search for captives, beginning with the labs and ending with the cryo units.