Hmmm …
It would also be a good bet that at least one of them carried an assassin’s or bounty hunter’s license, given the way they walked and the weapons they were packing. These beings were well versed in military-styled weaponry and walked as if they would kill or maim anyone dumb enough to threaten them.
Maybe they’re just here to meet a friend. Do some illegal business and leave.
If that was the case, he’d hang back and not expose himself.
But that was getting more difficult to hold to as they got closer and closer to his home.
While he kept the interior of the abandoned base stark and run-down, it wouldn’t be that hard to figure out someone lived there.
And if they discovered his stash of weapons or food, he was screwed.
The woman let out a slow whistle as she scanned the damage done to the exterior of Bastien’s homebase. “What happened? The League?”
“No. My brother. The mother of his daughter, Driana, was murdered here, and his wife was held hostage. Aksel wanted Nyk to come for a visit. Lucky him. He did.”
Bastien scowled at those words and the unexpected emotion they kicked up inside him. He’d assumed the blood he’d cleaned had come from soldiers.
To find out it was a female hostage and someone’s mother … that hit home and brought an image of his own mother and sister to his mind he could have really done without.
The male in the middle shook his head. “Needless to say, Nyk was a bit perturbed when he arrived. This is a prime example of ‘be careful what you wish for.’”
The other man snorted as they picked their way through the debris to enter the rusted-out remains.
Shit! Shit! Shit! Bastien cursed repeatedly as they went in and he tried to decide what to do. He clung to the shadows as he followed them inside his home.
You know what to do. One way or another, they were about to learn he lived here.
He was going to be exposed, that was a given. So he’d best do it on his own terms. Not theirs.
As they started up the rickety stairs that would lead them to where Bastien kept his electronics and what few personal items he’d salvaged, he knew he had no choice whatsoever.
Making sure they couldn’t see him, he clicked his weapon from stun to kill and deepened his voice for maximum impact. “Don’t.”
The bearded man in the middle held his hands up slowly. “We mean you no harm.”
Yeah, right … Like he was dumb enough to fall for that? “Then why are you here?”
Bastien expected an answer in words. Instead, it came in an invisible wave that knocked the blaster from his hands, lifted him clear off the floor, and pinned him to the rusted-out wall behind him.
Fected hell! Trisani …
A race that was virtually extinct, which was why the mere idea that these three might be part of that rare breed hadn’t entered Bastien’s mind. He’d never thought to ever meet one in real life. Possessed of unbelievable psionic powers, they were more myth than reality.
But there was no legend to the fierce power that held him in an iron grip he couldn’t escape. Worse? The force on his neck was about to snap it in half.
“Wait!” the bearded Tavali shouted as he held a hand out toward the one who must be holding Bastien up.
“For what?” the Trisani sneered. “A fucking invitation?”
The other Tavali smirked with a reckless disregard for the Trisani’s life-and-death abilities. “Set him down.”
Growling low in his throat, the Trisani obeyed. “A living enemy makes for a dead you.”
Bastien had to agree with that logic as he hit the ground hard enough to rattle his bones and what little sense he’d managed to hang on to.
The Tavali gave the Trisani an amused stare. “I see you’ve been reading the Book of Harmony again.”
“Fuck you, Andarion,” he snarled under his breath.
Those words stunned Bastien.
Andarion? With blond hair?
How?
Bastien scowled. Every Andarion he’d ever seen had been dark-haired, dark-skinned, with eerie white eyes. And while the woman with them had the traditional Andarion eyes, the bastard standing between them appeared human, except for his enormous size.
Yet unlike the woman, his eyes were covered by dark red-tinted glasses. Bastien had assumed them human in color, not Andarion.
He snorted at the Trisani, who obviously was not his brother, Bastien realized, even though they fought as if they were. “And another lovely quote from your peaceful scripture.”
Bastien glanced to the older woman. “Who are you people?”
“We’re just passing through.” The Andarion shrugged his survival pack off his back. He held it out toward Bastien. “Let us look for what we came after—has nothing to do with you—then you can grab a shower on our ship. I’ll leave you with some clothes, food, and water.”
In that moment, as their gazes met through those dark glasses the male wore, Bastien had a sneaking suspicion.
No …
Couldn’t be Jullien.
This Tavali was too fit and trim.