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Dakoda's Revenge Page 8
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Harley stepped into something soft. Grunting in alarm, he lifted his boot, hoping he hadn't inadvertently attached himself to a grenade. A small group of grubby children with dirty faces stood nearby, pretending they hadn't seen anything. Their leader, a young boy of fourteen Earth years, defied the rest of his friends and gave him a bold, angry look.
Wishing Abby had been around to handle the situation in her usual charitable manner, he whistled to the boy after digging in his pocket for a small Romaydian coin. The permanent residents on the station were like the inner city kids in L.A., poverty-stricken and with no means out of the hellhole in which they'd been born or they'd been born into. The boy watched Harley's hand. Stark fear registered in his pale blue eyes before he hit one of his friends on the back in some prearranged signal and fled. Harley pursed his lips. His forbidding expression must have chased off the young gang.
Someone called out in a falsetto voice, begging for mercy, but a woman emerged from the crowd, holding the teenager by the ear. Reluctantly and with an ugly scowl, he tagged along beside the woman in a light purple gown. Surprisingly, her eyes matched the fabric of her dress, bringing to mind Odessa's pink t-shirt and the swell of her small breasts. Why couldn't he get Odessa out of his head?
"Tell the gentleman you're sorry, Zorm. You shouldn't do things like that,” the woman ordered the boy.
Zorm bent his head, apparently unwilling to repeat the words of apology. Doing so, would have meant confessing that he had done the deed. Once, Harley had been like that boy—bluffing he was the smartest boy in the whole world. Time and experience had jaded him.
The woman bent over and said something into the boy's ear. His head snapped up. Fear and mistrust lit his eyes. “I'm sorry, lieutenant sir,” he managed before he jerked himself free of the woman's hold.
"I'm sorry too, sir. He won't do it again,” the woman said, puffing her chest out before she made a little curtsey.
"What's your name?” Harley asked, slipping into his practiced role as Pardua's most valued man. That is, until the Murrach had a yen to have him assassinated if he outlived his usefulness.
"Violette, sir.” She gave her little curtsey again. She was much more courageous than many of the women on Romaydia.
Harley threw her the coin he'd intended for the boy. “See Zorm gets this.” He wanted to add ‘please,’ but that word didn't fit the image of Pardua's right-hand man.
The woman's eyes, expressive in their innocence, widened. “Thank you for caring, sir.” She disappeared, leaving Harley standing in the crowd, solitary, yet not alone, remembering the bittersweet taste of a kiss with a woman who was the one being who could threaten his life.
He lifted his foot and took a peek at what was underneath. Old-fashioned, pink bubblegum, a rarity on this station, peeled away. The manufacturer had discovered the secret to easily peel away from any article it stuck to—as long as it wasn't ground into the object.
When he straightened, he was surprised to see Violette facing him. She closed the distance between their bodies and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Pretend you want me,” she whispered into his ear.
His hard-earned reputation as the Murrach's right-hand man wouldn't suffer in the slightest if he indulged in some pleasure. “The only problem is, I don't,” he muttered. “Get back, or I'll have you arrested for interfering with Lord Pardua's officer."
"I don't think you want to do that,” she said, her voice muffled against his jacket. She tucked her cheek against his shoulder, apparently attempting to kiss him and lure him into her temptress's lair. “Don't you want to know where the lady you're searching for is?"
Taken aback that she knew what he was doing, Harley would have stepped away, but she held on with a relentless, long-nailed grip. “Don't you want to know? The information doesn't cost you anything."
"Not even for protection for you and yours?"
"Nay. The Murrach's protection is only for those he considers important. He thinks nothing of women like me.” She paused as if carefully choosing her next words. “And I have no one here."
Her statement cut through his heart like a knife through ice, but he refused to feel compassion. It wasn't his responsibility to take care of her. Realizing the choice was foreign to his nature, he shrugged, pretending indifference. “What is it you know of this woman?” he growled.
Violette's jasmine perfume floated around him, light and feminine. “She is with the Ashtari negotiator, under his protection."
Harley stopped himself from grinding his teeth. So, he'd been right. The Ashtarian had probably been shielding Odessa as they strolled along the public area. Had Odessa sought the tiny man's protection? Why?
"I mean, she is now under his shield of invisibility. I saw her go under."
He'd figured as much. “Why are you telling me this?"
"She is of the opinion her boyfriend will come back for her, but I know better. He will not return. I don't want her to be stuck here. Like I am. Or like the others. Despite what you think, the Murrach toys with his women before he consigns them to a life of prostitution or kills them. The women here spend years hoping their knight in white armor will come along and save them, but that rarely happens. If some alien takes one of us off station, no good comes of it. When he becomes bored with her, it's easy enough to place her in an airlock and let the air out. Would you want that to happen to your woman?"
Harley heard no self-pity or regret in her tone. What he did hear was the concern she demonstrated for the others who were barred from leaving. Yet, what had made her state she believed Odessa was his woman? “How did you arrive here?” he asked out of curiosity. He could do nothing for her without compromising himself.
"That is of no consequence to you,” she said, maintaining the ruse of trying to seduce him. She stroked his cheek with a whisper-gentle hand, and traced a feather-light path down his thigh. He felt nothing sexual about the act.
"If I helped you get off the station?” he offered, fully intending to keep his promise.
"I am here for my lifetime. I accept that, but there are those who cannot or will not accept this life as their fate. I try to help them because they can't help themselves. They are the ones who need your help. Like your woman."
"How do you know I am searching for her?"
"I speak of the woman whose eyes, as blue as a jewel of great value, you would willingly trade for something you most desired. Her hair is cut unfashionably short, but is golden yellow, much like I see the female in the fairy tale, Rapunzel. Without a doubt, she is the one you search for."
He dipped his head in the affirmative. He clearly saw Odessa's heart-shaped coral lips and her spirited stance as she confronted him. Why had Abby's features been replaced by Odessa's, a woman he hardly knew?
"She is momentarily safe in the Ashtari's quarters. Momentarily.” Violette moved her hands up his chest and angled her head back as if to see his face better. “If no one else on this forsaken station does, but she deserves your help."
"Why?"
"You can find her a way home. If you have it in your heart to do so. If the Murrach finds her first, he will break not only her body, but also her spirit. She is innocent. She needs your help.” Abruptly, the woman turned her back on him, and without casting a glance over her shoulder, slipped away into the crowd.
Harley hastily concealed his frown and schooled his face to show no expression. There were spies everywhere who might see his encounter, and question his actions and motives in the Murrach's presence. Odessa Grante had managed to accomplish what no one else had in a long while—to capture part of the heart that had lain frozen since his wife's death. He had known Odessa less than twenty-four hours.
On the other hand, Violette could just as easily be involved in whatever machinations Roland Baylon had left behind. No one did anything on Romaydia without material profit on the horizon or in hand. Harley could see no other alternative. Odessa and Violette were in collusion. How else could he explain Violette's actions? He ref
used to think Odessa was as innocent as the woman claimed, even if the woman had openly admitted Odessa had a spirit that refused to be conquered.
* * * *
Violette watched Pardua's lieutenant. She could have found comfort in the man's strength. He was unlike the Murrach's other men in that he had a self-confidence about him that wasn't arrogant. Tears welled up in her eyes. Years ago, she had fallen in love with a law enforcement man. He promised her the moon on a silver platter, and because she was young, she'd succumbed to his heady charm. Darryl had wined and dined her for several days before she ended up in his bed, a willing slave to his will. Only later did she discover he was a cheating liar, dealing with criminals in exchange for drugs. When she found out, it was already too late. Like Odessa, she was stranded on Romaydia with no money to return home.
After going hungry for many days and getting weaker and weaker, Violette decided she could do nothing else but what the other women in her position were doing—selling their services to willing travelers. The first time had been the hardest. After that, the servicing became easier, but at a price. She rarely thought of herself as a deserving human being, as someone who was as valuable as any of the travelers arriving at the station. She lived with her guilt every day, until she determined that if she could do nothing for herself, she could for the women who were inevitably dumped at the station. Now, in a strange way, she wielded power on Romaydia among the denizens of its underbelly. When the kids the women bore on their own without medical help or any means to save their children from their own fate misbehaved, Violette took on the role of disciplining them.
At first, the children hadn't cared for her interference and had tried every means within their limited power to dissuade her from teaching them about kindness and earning a living. They had stuck bubble gum in her long hair, spilled oil into her worn shoes, and even burned her out of her cramped quarters. None of their tricks had worked. The children came to accept her as an alternate mother, especially when their own became crazed from the distressing conditions and turned to drugs or committed suicide.
Violette wouldn't let Odessa experience the harsh station life any more than she had to. She determined that each woman who was stranded by a lover who'd lost interest would be returned to her home planet. The means to achieve her goal was Dakoda Harley, the Murrach's man.
Chapter 11
Odessa's dream was remarkable. She had never had one quite like this before. Harley was kissing her again, except this time, their lives weren't in danger on the concourse. He lay beside her on a divan with overstuffed pillows. He twirled her hair around his large index finger and gazed into her eyes, lovestruck and passionate. Irresistibly, she was drawn to his rugged and angular face, to the strength in his jaw, and to the corded muscles in his neck. He touched her in a way no other man had. He did wonderful things that made her want him to slip her clothes off, to make love to churn her blood to fever pitch.
"Kiss me,” she murmured, looking into his liquid, sun-kissed brown eyes.
He leaned forward, with a mischievous expression. “Where do you want me to kiss you?"
"I don't know,” she breathed, suddenly unsure where she wanted his gorgeous mouth. Her skin was ultra-sensitive, especially her breasts and that golden, yearning place between her thighs.
"You don't know?” he teased, tracing a lazy path down her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Maybe you don't want me to kiss you at all."
"No,” she moaned a tortured, muffled sound. “I want you to, or else I'll feel unfulfilled."
"So? Where do you want me to kiss you?"
"Every tender place a woman can have a man,” she replied unabashedly.
"Maybe I should kiss you all over."
That wouldn't be such a bad idea, if only he could kiss her on each receptive spot on her skin at the same time. His voice, deliberately hoarse, made her tingle all over. Why did she need him to take the initiative? She wrapped her arms around his neck and raised her face to his. The anticipation fueled her actions, made the kiss long and tempting and more than she ever dreamed possible.
His lips parted under the fevered assault. Their tongues dueled and mated, a primeval dance of hearts willing and bodies entwined. The heat at her core flamed into open fire. She wanted more of him. Even as she made her silent wish, he began to fade away, a mysterious figure blending into the shadows of love lost.
Odessa struggled to awaken from her vivid dream. She couldn't allow Harley to vanish. In a matter of a mystical dream, he had given her more than self-centered Roland had in three months. Slowly, as if she were covered in warm sand, she surfaced, prying her eyelids open with her fingers. She examined the room, which had a holographic painting of an unrecognizable, but wonderful, emerald-green landscape with an orange-red sky. The eerie scene oddly reminded her of home. Homesickness drew its pulsing beat around her. When would she see the Cascade Mountains again or the apple orchards of the Wenatchee Valley?
She brought her hand to her lips. Amazingly, they were kiss-swollen, as if her dream had been real. Her imagination had bedeviled her. Harley's lonely eyes disturbed her on one hand. On the other, she resolved not to let his dream kisses torture her during her waking hours. He was a drug lord's right-hand man searching for her so he could turn her in to the one man on Romaydia who could make a life and death decision for her.
"I've had more adventure in the last few hours than I bargained for,” she murmured, rising to a seated position.
"Are you awake, sleeping princess?” boomed a voice next to the bed, scaring her half out of her wits.
"I am.” Thankful for the Ashtari's reassuring presence, she smiled.
"You were going to ask this Ashtari how he is familiar with sleeping princess."
Odessa laughed. Momentarily, she had forgotten he could read her mind. “What is your name?"
"It is Eyani, which has no exact equivalent in your language, but roughly means ‘he who conquers all.’”
She burst out laughing. “Are you married? What are you doing on Romaydia?"
"Easy, little one. Take your time and awaken before you fire questions at me."
"How do you know the slang?” she asked.
"What is this ‘slang'?"
Odessa canted her head to one side. “It's a word that someone makes up to use instead of a stuffier word that catches on with the rest of the population. Before you know it, everyone's using it."
"Which word did I use that is this ‘slang'?"
"You asked me not to fire questions at you."
He nodded, his head barely shifting since he had a very short neck. “I see. As to being married, I am not. That concept does not exist on Ashtar."
Odessa must have appeared perplexed. Obviously reading her mind, he went on. “We trade our partners, but this does not have the same shocking quality it has on your planet. The men and women trade each willingly and with joy with no twine attached."
"You mean strings, don't you?"
The gold cloverleaf on Eyani's forehead twirled. “Yes, I think this is your slang again."
She nodded. “You're right. I can't begin to grasp what it would be like to trade my partner. That is, if I had one.” Changing the subject, she said, “You sound like my Uncle Peter."
The gold circle moved around his forehead before it stopped and pulsed. “Uncle is relation. The brother of a parent."
"Yes. He smokes a pipe and rocks in his chair no matter how cold and blustery it gets."
"Ashtari have no concept of cold until he travel to other worlds where he froze in knee-deep snow. On Ashtar, it is warm always. No need for shoes or shirt."
"The winter is cold in Wenatchee, but there's still lots of beauty. When it snows, or when you walk at night and see small crystals from the light in the house."
Eyani cocked his head to one side. “There is matter of urgency. This man who search for you is not giving up. I believe he see you before I am able to shield you."
"I thought that kind of thing only exi
sted in the movies."
"I am not familiar with movies, but I shielded you as soon as I knew you were in danger."
He sounded almost like a magician, able to hide objects and make them reappear at will. “Is Harley nearby?"
"Yes."
"Is he alone?"
"Yes. Is that a surprise?"
"I don't know. I thought he would send the Murrach's men after me."
"Then you are in real trouble, little one, for Murrach does not seek out helpless women without definite cause."
"I have done nothing to warrant his attention. Neither his nor Harley's."
"The Murrach's right-hand man is come to door looking for you."
Odessa tensed at the sharp knock on the door. “How do you know everything?"
"I read his thoughts as he neared.” He moved closer and touched her arm. “If you stay still, he may step right up to you and not see you within my protective shield. Will you stay still?"
She nodded, instinctively trusting the Ashtarian. She couldn't let Harley find her.
Eyani propelled himself forward and pulled the door open. “Lieutenant,” he said affably, as if Harley were a long lost spaceship buddy.
"I am searching for a woman who is lost from a spaceship. I need to find her so I can send her home."
Odessa's mouth fell open. Harley looked better than ever in a black leather jacket and black pants. His eyes roamed the quarters, but did not stop on the bed. Honestly, he couldn't see her? She was invisible? Did he mean what he said about sending her home? Odessa doubted him. He wanted to know where Roland was, and that was one question she couldn't answer.
Eyani opened the door wide and motioned a chubby hand into the room. “As you can see, there is no one but my humble self here enjoying a moment of rest."
"How is your mission faring?” Harley asked, stepping into the room and surveying the interior as the door shut behind him. A painting of a landscape to the left glowed, and the bed sheets were rumpled, as if the Ashtarian had risen from his bed to greet him.