overwhelmed. She told herself it was because he was 8th Wing, a representative of everything she avoidedorder, discipline, regulations. Obligations. Yet she knew, deep down, that his gray uniform accounted for only a very small part of what unsettled her.
His eyes, darker than the depths of space, held hers. Tell me what I can get my hands on.
Keep them to yourself, she snapped, but a pulse of heat worked through her.
He lifted his broad shoulders in a negligent shrug. Yet he wasnt as indifferent as he tried to look.
Mara felt his gaze on her as she slid out of her seat to make some adjustments to the ships climate controls. Felt his gaze all over her body. It was too damned hot in here.
How long until the Smoke Quadrants outer perimeter?
About twenty solar hours.
With a muttered curse, he surged to his feet to stand in the galley space behind the cockpit. He prowled like a caged beast, all sinewy, supple motion. Even though she stayed in the cockpit while he paced in the galley, she was still able to sense the power of his body. His large hands clenched and unclenched reflexively.
We need to talk strategy. Part of me just wants to go in with
guns blazingbut I know that cant happen.
Its got to be on the quiet. She couldnt take her eyes off him as he moved. A man his size shouldnt be so graceful, yet he was, and the contrast between his masculinity and the sleek motion felt unexpectedly potent.
Any sign of trouble, and our leads dry up.
Exactly. She managed to pry her gaze away to study the chart on the control panel. The best intel about moving black market goods is on Ryge. I should start there.
We , he said. We should start there.
She blew out an impatient breath. I dont work with we , just me .
Until Lieutenant Jur and her ship are safe, its we . He crossed his arms over his wide chest.
And in order for us to function properly as a team, you will tell me everything about this Ryge.
Heres a communication for you, Commander, she said. Im not one of your Black Ghost
Black Wraith.
She waved a hand, dismissing this. Im not part of your squad, and Im not 8th Wing. The Arcadia is my ship. So you cant order me around. If you want to know something, you ask. Got it?
His jaw tightened. It took several moments before he spoke. Agreed. His voice was a hard growl. Tell me about Ryge. Please.
Mara bit back a smile. There was something distinctly arousing about a strong, attractive man saying please. Even if she couldnt stand the man on principle.
She tapped a few keys on the control panel, and a small holo of the planet Ryge appeared,
flickering in the half light of the cockpit. Most of the wheeling and dealing in the Smoke is done on Ryge. If someone wants to move merch or do some trading, they come here.
Any cities?
A few, but if you really want the best goods, you go to Beskidt By. She tapped the controls again, and the holo zoomed in on the city, sprawling like a gaudy fungus on the face of Ryge. Once I we , she corrected quickly, get there, well have a better idea as to where the lieutenant and her ship might be. She glanced at the commander. Dont suppose I could convince you to stay with the Arcadia while I do recon.
No.
Right. She should have figured. Commander Frayne liked to be in control at all times. Made her wonder what might happen if he ever lost it. Made her wonder what could force him to lose that precious control.
Youre going to have to lose the uniform. She eyed the garment in question. Frayne in his 8th Wing flight suit gave her lots of unwanted ideas. Theres no way anyone is going to give us any information about black market deals with you dressed like that.
Taken care of. I brought civvies.
Show me.
Now whos giving orders? But he actually smiled, and Mara was totally unprepared at how it transformed his face from tough and austere to flat-out gorgeous. His smile revealed a tiny dimple near the corner of his mouth, as though some hidden scoundrel lurked beneath the surface of the hard warrior.
She had a weakness for scoundrels.
Get the damned bag, she muttered.
Surprisingly, he did. She remained in the cockpit, but as he bent and rummaged through his gear she was treated to the sight of his tight, firm ass. By Oshun, she wanted to bite him on one taut cheek.
He straightened and caught her ogling his behind. She had seen some of the infamous fertility rites on Ruva Nu without batting an eye, but now she blushed. The look he gave her was questioning, faintly mocking. And yetshe wasnt mistaken. His gaze met hers, gleaming with an answering interest.
Without speaking, he tossed a bundle of clothing toward her. She snagged the clothes from midair before examining them.
Those better meet with your approval. He nodded toward the garments. Because theyre all Ive got.
She held them up for inspection. The shirt was hugeif she wore it, the thing would come down to her kneesand perfectly ordinary. A little plain, actually. Same with the pants. Everything felt a little stiff in her hands, as if they were seldom worn. He wasnt out of uniform often.