Tannis paced the floor of the large meeting room while they waited for Devlin Starke to appear. He’d been dealing with something when they’d boarded and would be with them as soon as he could. Tannis tried to curb her impatience, but she’d never been any good at that.
So far, she was impressed with what she had seen. The ship was immaculate and appeared to be well run. She was a Mark Three cruiser like El Cazador, though her design and decor were more functional, less luxurious, but that was Rico’s influence.
They’d decided to keep the boarding group small, plenty of time for the Rebels to meet the rest of the crew if they agreed to help. And she was by no means convinced they would. She could only hope that they would see enough benefit in destroying the ship and hindering the Church’s plans for ultimate power.
So it was just her, Rico, and the Trog. Callum had wanted to come, but she had pointed out, quite reasonably—well reasonably for her anyway—that he might not be one of Devlin Starke’s favorite people, and their chances were better if he stayed in the background. He’d agreed—albeit reluctantly. She didn’t think Callum was a background sort of person.
Callum had been acting a little weird. If she hadn’t known him better, she would have presumed he was feeling guilty. He mostly remained in his cabin, but did join them for meals, where he stayed quiet and just watched them, usually with a slight frown on his face as though he didn’t know what to make of them. His girlfriend hadn’t shown herself, whether through choice or because Callum had ordered her to stay out of the way, Tannis didn’t know. But she was glad. Venna and her “angel” face might have been a little too much to stomach.
The door slid open, and she turned to look at the man who stood in the entrance. He hesitated a moment, spoke a brief aside to somebody behind him, then entered the room alone. He bore very little resemblance to the Trog. His hair, mainly black with streaks of blond, was pulled into a ponytail showing off his sharp cheekbones and slanted blue-green eyes. Cat’s eyes—they were the only thing he shared with his brother. He was a handsome man, but with a hard, ruthless stamp to his features, further enhanced by the scar that ran from his right eyebrow, down his cheek to the corner of his mouth, giving him a perpetual sneer. She wondered why he had never had it corrected; maybe he knew it gave him an amazingly sexy and dangerous look. The thought surprised her. Since when had she noticed that men were sexy?
He strolled toward them. Where the Trog was lanky, he appeared perfectly proportioned, with long legs and broad shoulders. He moved like a cat, on the balls of his feet, graceful for such a big man. The Rebels didn’t wear a uniform, but he was dressed in khaki pants tucked into combat boots, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. A weapons belt was strapped to his waist, and his hand rested lightly on the grip of his laser pistol.
“You’re staring,” Rico murmured from beside her.
Luckily, it didn’t matter. Devlin Starke’s attention was all on the Trog. He came to a halt in front of his brother, and suddenly his deadpan expression melted and he grinned. “Welcome home, Tris.”
Tannis turned to Rico. “Tris?” she mouthed the question.
“Tristan Starke,” he murmured. “You didn’t think his name was really the Trog did you?”
She hadn’t actually thought about it at all, but now that she did, it did seem unlikely.
“I’m not actually home as such…” the Trog replied.
“It’s good enough for me. I missed you, bro.” He wrapped his arms around his brother, hugging him tight. After a moment, the Trog’s arms came out and he hugged him back.
“I missed you, too. I just thought it was easier this way. If you knew where I was, you might have come after me.”
“I always knew where you were.”
“You did?”
Devlin nodded and stepped away, turning his gaze to her and Rico. Tannis did her best to keep her features expressionless.
“So, Tris, are you going to introduce me?”
“Sure, this is Tannis, captain of El Cazador.”
Devlin held her gaze. His green-blue eyes had little flecks of gold in them and a dark green circle around the iris. His lips curled into a slow smile, banishing the sneer.
“Snake-lady…nice.” His voice was a rough purr, and a shiver ran through her. When he held out his hand, Tannis slid her palm into his warm hard one. He clasped it for longer than necessary, and Tannis didn’t pull away.