Chapter 9

9

J esh blinked as the big alien turned back toward her, his massive hands spread widely in what she hoped was the universal gesture of peace rather than code for "the ship's about to blow up." She was in the same medical bay as before, the antiseptic whiff of the sterile air mingling with the alien scent she associated with her rescuer.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she looked around the room. The thing in her head catalogued any potential weapons within reach with practiced speed. The medical equipment, while advanced, could be repurposed if needed. But escape routes were going to be more of a problem. The air vent in the corner was too small for her to fit through, and it seemed the only way out was through her rescuer.

Her gaze returned to him, and she drank in every detail of his appearance. With people shooting at her earlier, she hadn't had time to really look at him . Now she did.

He towered over her, easily seven feet tall with broad shoulders that seemed to fill the room. His skin held a faint red tinge, and intricate markings crawled down his arms like tattoos. He was solidly built, heavy muscles rippling beneath his skin and hinting at a strength that was beyond anything humanity was capable of. His fingers were tipped with wickedly sharp claws. Talons like that were designed for one purpose only, ripping through flesh and bone. And with his hands out like that, he was a walking paradox—a creature built for war attempting diplomacy.

What was he?

Species unknown , the voice in her head chimed in. Nonhuman. Biomechanical markers and skeletal build suggest similarities to Earth-based primates. Increased height and muscle density indicate probable origin from a high-gravity planet. Proceed with caution .

Not human. No surprise there. She could tell that just by looking at him. Her gaze locked on to the fresh bruise blooming across his chiseled jaw. The purple stood out vividly against his skin, making her wince as it spread and darkened virtually in front of her eyes. Shit. She'd thrown this mountain of an alien across the room as if he weighed nothing. How was that even possible? She was half his size, a David to his Goliath.

The voice in her head chirped again. Neural networks at seventy percent capacity. Self-replicating nanites repairing damage to actuators. Estimated time to full strength: unknown.

It was like trying to decipher an alien language, which, given her current company, wasn't far from the truth. All that made sense to her of that was that she was operating at seventy percent capacity. If this was her at seventy percent, what would she be like at one hundred percent?

Slowly she slid off the bed. Her toes curled as they touched the cold metal of the floor. Her muscles coiled, tension in every fiber of her being as she assessed the situation. Her clothes had been removed, and the thin paper medical gown—seriously, how the hell had that particular little detail transcended species and cultures—did nothing to protect her from the chill of the room. At least her ass wasn't hanging out. She pushed the discomfort of the cold aside for the moment, focusing instead on the potential threat before her.

The alien's hands remained stretched out in front of him, but despite the cautious and pleasant expression on his face—one obviously intended to calm her down—she watched him carefully. She'd tossed him across the room like a rag doll. He had to be pissed about that, surely? Her eyes flicked to the door behind him, gauging the distance. Could she make it past him if she needed to?

"Hey, Jesh," he rumbled, his voice a low, resonant growl that seemed to vibrate down to her very bones.

Her name on his lips unleashed a flood of broken memories. Strong arms holding her, carrying her to safety. The scent that she associated with him enveloped her, like returning home after a lifetime away, and she knew he had carried her. That same scent wrapped around her now, stronger than before, stirring something deep in her core.

Memory fragment: Covak carrying you through ship corridors, eight hours, twenty-three minutes ago, the voice in her head chimed in, flashing timestamps across her vision as the memories flowed through her mind.

"Covak," she breathed. The name felt right on her tongue.

His eyes widened, and a pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The expression transformed his fierce features, softening them, and she sucked a breath in. He wasn't just handsome when he smiled but devastating. His eyes were mesmerizing… a deep amber color, flecked with gold. They almost seemed to glow under the overhead lights, captivating and alien all at the same time.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice hoarse. The words scraped against her dry throat, and she swallowed. She'd never been so thirsty in her life. Well, at least the eight days of it she could remember, that was.

He took a careful step closer, his movements slow and deliberate. She tensed but held her ground. She could hear the soft whir of the medical equipment around them, the distant hum of what must be the ship's engines. Every sound, every sensation seemed heightened, as if her body was compensating for the gaps in her memory.

"You're on the Lady's Dream ," he explained. "It's a mercenary warship."

Her brows snapped together

"Mercenaries? What do mercenaries want with me? Why would you help me?"

A flicker of… something passed across his face. If she'd blinked, she would have missed it, but she caught it, filing it away for later.

"We received intel that you were being held against your will," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "We were sent in to extract you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. He wasn't telling her everything. That much was clear. But why? What was he hiding? She studied his face, trying to read past the alienness of his features. Despite his intimidating appearance, something in his eyes spoke of kindness, of concern. It was… disconcerting.

"You were the one who helped me when I was shot. Weren't you?" she asked, patting over the medical gown as she searched for bandages or wounds. She still had her underwear on under the gown, so he hadn't stripped her naked to treat her.

Before he could answer, a flash of memory assaulted her … Cold, sterile rooms. The tangy scent of antiseptic. Hard, unfeeling eyes peering down at her from behind surgical masks. Pain, so much pain…

She gasped, shaking her head to clear it. The memories were so real and vivid that she could taste the fear in her mouth, metallic and bitter. But that hadn't been Covak holding her down, and it wasn't recent. She knew it wasn't recent.

"So, what now?" she asked, watching him closely.

He tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, gesturing around them, "we're in a medical bay, and I'm not injured anymore. So what happens next?"

A smile spread across his face, transforming his features once again. His sharp teeth, which should have been terrifying, somehow only added to his charm.

"Good point," he said in amusement. "Are you hungry?"

The question caught her off guard. As if on cue, her stomach let out a loud growl, answering for her. The sound was impossibly loud in the quiet of the room, and her cheeks burned.

A deep, rumbling chuckle escaped him.

"I'll take that as a yes. Your clothes are over there, I'll wait while you dress."

She found herself smiling back as he turned around to let her dress. He was disarmingly genuine, and it put her at ease, even as her instincts screamed at her to remain on guard. She was acutely aware of the distance between them, of the way his huge body radiated heat in the cool air of the medical bay.

For now, though, the promise of food and the possibility of answers were enough to quell her immediate fears, and she pulled her clothes on quickly, noticing they'd been washed.

"Lead the way," she said, gesturing toward the door.

He turned and headed toward the door, and she followed. For such a large man, he moved with surprising agility. They emerged into the corridor, and her senses remained alert for danger, but curiosity about him began to outweigh her caution.

Whatever came next, at least he was feeding her. A full stomach and she'd be ready to take on anything.

Davis sat at the command systems console in the Dream's engineering bay and punched in a comms ID code that he hadn't used for years. It didn't take long to connect, and the face that appeared on the screen was one he both knew and didn't know all at the same time.

He studied the face on the screen, a stranger's face where his twin's should have been. Theo's features had been sculpted by a surgeon's skilled hand, erasing the familial resemblance they once shared and turning him into Maxim Martell… or what Maxim would have looked like after all these years.

The dark hair remained, now streaked with silver, but everything else had changed. A straighter nose, a stronger jawline, even the shape of his cheekbones… they'd all be carefully altered to match his new identity.

His build had changed too, bulking up from their shared lean frame to something more imposing. Not overtly muscular, but solid and strong, a physical presence that commanded attention. A five o'clock shadow darkened his jaw, despite the early hour, adding to the rugged appearance.

But the eyes held his attention. The color had changed, a cold brown where he remembered blue-gray. Yet despite the new face, he recognized them. That calculating gleam, the intensity of his gaze… yeah, that was Theo through and through.

For a split second, surprise flashed across Theo's face… a rare crack in his usually impenetrable mask. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that maddeningly neutral expression Davis knew all too well. It was the face of a man who'd spent years burying his true self beneath layers of deception.

The face of a man Davis didn't know anymore.

"Michael." The man greeted him with a small incline of his head. "Or whatever name you're using these days."

Davis bit back his frustration. Theo had always been an asshole. A little bit of plastic surgery hadn't changed that.

"It's Davis Tell," he bit out. "And you're a fine one to talk about different names, Theo. Maxim Martell… Seriously? Grandma will be turning in her grave right now."

His brother just shrugged. "We both do the same job. What does it matter how we got here?"

"You were thrown out of the NOMAD program," Davis snarled, slamming his hands on the console in front of him. "You did the worst thing an agent can do. You bought into your own cover."

Theo met his gaze levelly. He didn't look like Davis remembered. Didn't look like his twin anymore. But even with all the plastic surgery, which Davis had to admit was really very good, his eyes were the same. As was the hard-edged and ruthless intelligence. It was unmistakable, the calculating gleam there sending a shiver down Davis's spine that he refused to show.

"Buchanan still came knocking when he figured out I was useful, though. Didn't he?"

Davis just grunted. He had no reply to that. The man they both worked for was the president of Earth, but that was just his cover story.

In reality, he was Buchanan, if that was even his real name, commander of the NOMADs, an ultra-secretive group dedicated to bringing peace throughout the alliance by any means necessary.

Davis sighed, suddenly reminded of the "any means necessary" part. Having your own twin infiltrate and assume the identity of one of the worst, most ruthless, and dangerous crime lords in the known human galaxy certainly met that criteria.

"I didn't call to argue. I need a favor."

Theo's eyebrow quirked upward. "What kind of favor?"

Davis leaned back, choosing his words carefully. "I need access to a high-level medical facility, and it needs to be totally hush-hush and off the record."

Confusion flashed across the other man's face. "You're still military. Aren't you? Walk into any government facility, flash your credentials?—"

Theo leaned forward, his face filling the screen as he peered intently into the camera. The sudden proximity made Davis feel as if his brother was right there in the room with him, scrutinizing every micro-expression.

"Michael," Theo said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Be honest with me… it's to get a little… work done. Isn't it?"

He gritted his teeth, knowing full well what his twin was implying. Their father had been obsessed with looks, with erasing the signs of aging, and it had driven them both from home at an early age. It seemed, though, that Theo had gone right down the same route. That, or he was just being an ass.

"Fuck off. It's not for me. It's for a friend."

Theo's eyes narrowed, blinked, and then looked past him. Davis waited. He had engaged a privacy shield, so his brother couldn't tell where he was. A deliberate move.

"Where are you?" Theo demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"

Davis smirked as he dropped the privacy shield to reveal the engine room behind him, and Theo's eyes widened. He had the satisfaction of seeing his brother speechless for a few seconds.

"That's not a human engine design."

Davis shook his head, "Nope."

"That's not a Latharian engine design."

He bit back a smile. The one thing Theo hated more than anything was not knowing things.

"Nope."

Theo leaned back in his chair, folding his arms and looking thoroughly unimpressed. "Are you going to tell me?"

Davis said, "Also no."

"Asshole," Theo said. "Do you want access to this medical facility or not?"

He just shrugged. "You'll give it to me anyway since I'm on assignment for Buchanan."

Theo leaned back in his seat. "How is the boss?"

"Married to a Latharian princess and still the scariest SOB in any room."

Theo's dry chuckle was the same as he remembered. "Yeah, that tracks. Sending you the coordinates now. Secure facility, very discreet, did a lot of my work."

Davis nodded. "I appreciate it, brother."

He ended the transmission and slumped back in his chair, his fingers massaging his throbbing temples. The conversation with Theo—no, Maxim now—had left him drained. Dealing with his brother always did. But the stakes felt higher this time, and the metaphorical ground beneath his feet less stable.

His brother, once his mirror image, now wore the face of an intergalactic crime lord. The transformation went beyond skin deep, and he wondered where Theo's true loyalties lay. With the NOMADs? With his criminal empire?

Or, more likely, solely with himself?