“Marcus Loch,” he finally replied.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said. I tossed him the bread, napkin and all. We might be making polite conversation, but I had no doubt that Mr. Marcus Loch would eat me alive if I ventured too close.
Marcus Loch. The name sounded familiar. I mentally sorted through the rosters of important people in all three High Houses, trying to place him. I knew he wasn’t part of House von Hasenberg. He couldn’t be directly part of House Yamado or House Rockhurst, either, because he would have their name. So either he was a distant relation or an in-law, but I couldn’t remember. Where had I heard that name and who had he pissed off to get such a bounty?
“Let me save you some time,” he said as if reading my mind. “I’m Marcus Loch, the so-called Devil of Fornax Zero, and the man with the highest bounty in the ’verse . . . at least until you showed up.”
It was only thanks to long practice that I managed to keep my expression perfectly placid. Now the chains made sense, as did the mercs’ wariness. The Royal Consortium claimed that Marcus Loch had killed at least a dozen of his commanding officers and fellow soldiers during the suppression of the Fornax Rebellion. Then he disappeared.
The Consortium put out an ever-increasing bounty, but so far no bounty hunter had been able to bring him in to claim it. Rumor had it that he’d been caught six or seven times, but every time he had escaped and left nothing but a pile of bodies behind.
Marcus Loch was a deserter, a killer, and a traitor to the Consortium. And he was just the man I needed.
Chapter 2
“How long did it take you to perfect that mask?” Loch asked between bites of bread.
I raised one imperious eyebrow and stared down my nose at him, even though he was taller than me and across the room. After seeing the expression work so well for my mother, I’d practiced it in the mirror and wielded it without mercy. Lesser prey would flee at the merest hint of it.
So, of course, Loch grinned. “That long, huh?”
“Longer.” I sat on the bed and rubbed my face. After being on all evening with the captain, I was exhausted. “Haven’t had much use for it lately. I must be out of practice; you’re supposed to be trembling with fear.”
“It takes more than your pert little nose in the air to scare me, darlin’,” he drawled, dropping the g. As if to emphasize his point, he stretched his arms and rolled his massive shoulders. He slid down the wall and sat. “I suppose I have you to thank for this?” He rattled the chain that bound his leg to the wall. At least now he could stretch out his legs.
“Seemed like the neighborly thing,” I said.
I scooted back and wedged myself in the front corner of the cell, where the bed was pushed up against the walls. I’d slept sitting up before, and being in a corner made it easier. With the bed attached to the floor, at least I didn’t have to worry about him dragging me closer.
“Afraid?”
“Smart,” I countered. He grunted.
Ships and stations usually operated on Universal Standard Time, so it was the clock I was accustomed to. And right now, it was well after midnight. I needed to talk to Loch about a possible alliance, but I needed to be on point to get it right—I couldn’t just steamroll over him like I’d done with the captain.
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. All of that glorious skin and muscle was on display, which prompted a question. “Why’d they strip you?”
He cracked an eye at me. “Easier than patting me down after I kept coming up with shivs. It seems they didn’t share my appreciation of a good blade. You going to talk all night?”
“Maybe. Would you like me to lull you to sleep with tales of the captain’s tablecloth?”
His groan was answer enough.
I slept fitfully through the first half of the night. I kept imagining Loch prowling closer, which would jolt me awake. But every time I checked, he sat on his side of the cell. After the fourth time, I eyed his chains, calculated the distance, and curled up on the end of the bed farthest from him. Lying down helped, and I slept better.
I awoke to the cell door banging open. “Rise and shine, princess. Captain says you get to use the crew head.” John, the blond merc who’d wrestled me into the ship, stood in the doorway. I could hear the derision in his voice when he mentioned the captain—perhaps Gerald wasn’t wrong about the crew plotting his demise.
I obediently followed him down the same path I’d taken last night, but instead of turning left into the captain’s quarters, we went right toward the crew quarters. More people were up and around this morning and more than one merc eyed me a little too long.
I passed another woman, but any hope of sympathy died when I met her baleful stare. She wore the dark camouflage fatigues that seemed to be the merc uniform and had her long hair braided down her back. Female mercenaries weren’t rare, but they generally preferred either more gender-balanced groups or higher-tier squads; being the only woman on a ship that could spend months in space was a tough gig, especially with the men that made up most of the merc squads—cream of the crop they were not.
John stopped and pushed open the door to the crew bathroom. “You get five minutes,” he said. “Then I’m coming in after you.” He held up a control tablet with a lecherous grin.
I stepped into the room and bolted the door. He could use the tablet to open the lock, but I wasn’t going to make it too easy for him. The room was tiny, but brightly lit and surprisingly clean. A toilet, sink, and shower were the only features. No towels or personal items were anywhere to be found. I took care of business then splashed water on my face. I’d love a shower, but there was no way I was taking my clothes off on this ship.
A glance in the mirror revealed dark under-eye circles that made my eyes appear more gray than blue. My deep brown hair stuck up in every direction. Without a brush, there was only so much I could do, so I French-braided it to contain the worst of it. My upper arms sported fading bruises from where the mercs had grabbed me.
The lock clicked open and the door swung inward. “Time’s up, princess,” John said. He looked disappointed that I was fully clothed and merely standing in front of the sink. It had been less than three minutes.
He pulled me out by my upper arm and made a show of dragging me back to my cell. I let him pull me along instead of ruining the show by easily pacing him. Picking my battles was a skill I’d learned the hard way while growing up, but one that I had eventually learned.
It took until my early teens for me to realize that banging my head against Father’s will got me nowhere. Feigning compliance while ultimately working toward my own goals worked much better. All of my siblings had learned to be crafty in their own way because the other option was to become a slave to Father’s will, and we were all too stubborn to let that happen.
I held my tongue—barely—as the merc shoved me into the cell. “I suggest you hug the door, princess. It’s exercise time.” With that parting shot, he closed and locked the door. A few seconds later, the whine of motors and distinctive sound of chain links hitting the floor echoed through the cell.
As much as I hated obeying orders, I backed up until I was leaning against the door. Loch was still an unknown and with the amount of chain spooling out, he was going to have the run of the cell. I didn’t think the merc was stupid enough to actually let Loch reach me, but it would be close.
“That merc must really hate you,” Loch said. He rolled to his feet in a movement so smooth it was a thing of beauty. Or it would’ve been, if I didn’t feel like a gazelle mesmerized by a lion.