Chapter Ten

  Shannon pointed in the direction of the dart board against the wall to the right of them. “I make that bullseye in less than three shots and you give us everything you said for free.”

  The Old Beard grinned, showing his scraggly teeth were chipped, decaying or missing. “And when you don’t?”

  He’d been in this dumb town since she was little and he liked bartering in stupid ways more than he enjoyed making money. She remembered her father arm-wrestling for a box of parts once.

  “Don’t do something so stupid.” Jack scowled at her, his gaze pointed.

  If she could read his mind, it might have been complaining about how her gambling had gotten them in this situation in the first place. But yesterday was different…and she didn’t make bets she couldn’t win.

  She winked in Jack’s direction then looked back at Old Beard. “What do you think is a fair price?”

  “You pay me double for wasting my time. I could be pouring drinks for paying customers.” Old Beard jerked his head toward the others sitting down the opposite end of the bar. “They don’t try to lie to men. They’re too far gone for nonsense.”

  Shannon laughed. “Oh, but you’re not willing to say no? We don’t have to go through with anything.”

  Old Beard pointed his towel at her. “See, you’re trying to back out. You know you can’t.”

  This was how the Argest trader worked, but he wasn’t as good as he used to be back in her youth. He’d grown too old for this, but no doubt refused to give up his spot. Someone would kill him for it at some point, especially if they believed the gang wasn’t seeing enough profits.

  “No way. I’m in this. Tell them, Jack, how good I am.”

  “She’s ridiculous. Can make it two shots not three.” Jack’s monotone voice didn’t faze her. She’d get him to play along if it killed her. He needed to cut loose a little more, especially in the face of an uncertain tomorrow. I go down my way.

  She glanced back at him, mouth open in mock outrage. “Don’t tell them all my secrets. A woman’s got to have a few.”

  Rolling her shoulders, she stood up from the stool, deliberately letting the legs scratch against the floor. The sharp sound flooded the room, even competing with the mellow drone of a guitar. Several pairs of eyes focused on her from the bar and the surrounding tables.

  “All right, Old Beard, I’m going to show you how darts should be thrown.” She cracked her knuckles, stretched her arms and legs, drawing out the show.

  The darts were handed to her by another bystander. He looked her over with one yellowed eye, but the skinny husk of a man wasn’t anything attractive. The other eye was covered in a patch and his dry flaked skin showed signs she’d seen before on those who abused the bottle.

  “You get it in two, I’ll throw myself in for the night,” the bystander said.

  A sharp scrape rent the air, along with the familiar clink of Jack’s cybernetic leg. “She’s not in need of any companions for the night,” he hollered.

  Shannon grinned and glanced back at Jack who was standing, arms crossed, glowering. “He’s right. I already have one.”

  Grabbing the darts from Eye Patch’s hand, she stepped up to the carved mark in the wood flooring. The dart board was three feet away.

  “Do I just throw when I want to or am I getting a countdown?”

  Her skin prickled, the little hairs rising up on her arms and the back of her neck. So many folks watching, people curious at the ongoings, others knowing Old Beard was up to his tricks. She needed to nail this. She would hit the target.

  I’ve got no choice.

  Never had a choice to fail, because failure meant she’d be giving into someone else. Taking a deep breath, she put the first dart in her left hand. A bend at the elbow, a cock of the wrist, positioning the dart rod between her thumb and index finger, and a couple fake pumps before she let the dart fly.

  It whistled through the air, reminding her of her adopted mother’s tea kettle that would howl once the water heated up, or the sound of an arrow being hurled at her head.

  The dart landed halfway between the bullseye and the edge. A mixture of cheers and jeers erupted in the Trading Post, Old Beard being the loudest of them. “Keep throwing them like that and I’ll be the one eating good tonight.”

  “I’ve got two more darts. Just calm down.” She smiled, wiped her forehead with her forearm and tried to force away the memory of her father.

  He didn’t deserve space here, even if he was the reason she’d gotten so good at judging distances. She’d tried her best to take every mean thing he’d done to her and turn it into a strength.

  No weaknesses. The second dart sailed even wider. The sound was duller, less sharp…as intended.

  “You sure you want to keep going?” One eye asked, doing a triple take at the board.

  Doubt…she’d lived with it her entire life.

  There was a hand on her shoulder. The weight seemed familiar, the callused touch warm and catching on the fabric of her shirt.

  “Maybe we should back out.”

  “Get out of here, Jack. Too late now. Don’t you all have a fancy catchphrase or something… Dust or bust?” She spoke low, frustrated that even he had bought into the act. She’d become damn good at her sell.

  He still stood there, giving her an indecipherable look, scrutinizing her in a way she found a little disturbing, as he took in every aspect of her from the way she held the last dart to her neck. What the hell?

  “I’m not quitting. I don’t bet—”

  “Unless you can win.” He grinned at her then, randomly trailing a finger along the rope of her necklace, before lifting the charm from under her shirt and sending it twirling. She wasn’t ready for the flutter that erupted inside her with the flash of his pearly whites or the familiarity to his actions. “Just hurry up, I’m hungry.”

  She looped her arms around his neck and played one step further. “For food or something else?”

  He blushed. Holy shit. She made his skin flush red and it disappeared under the collar of his shirt.

  “Oye! I’m not betting for a sex show. Stow the touchy-feely and throw the dart,” Old Beard hollered, effectively ruining the moment.

  But the bulge in Jack’s pants currently pressing against her stomach would be worth investigating later. “Guess I better get to it,” she whispered to Jack. Then she let him go and looked back at Old Beard. “Tell you what, let’s up the bet one more time?”

  “You prove you can even make the shot first.”

  Enough playing. She stepped back up to the line, angled her arm and let loose. The dart hit dead center and every voice in the post went silent. The only thing Shannon could hear was the single strum of a guitar string.

  “Willing to bet I can’t make the shot again?” Shannon made sure her voice was nice and loud so everyone heard.

  Old Beard stroked said beard. “What do you want if I say yes?”

  “A bed for the night. I know you have rooms upstairs.” She’d stayed in one with her father when a storm kicked up during one of their trade runs. They needed to get a good night’s rest, for the sake of Jack’s left leg. At least that was the excuse she’d tell anyone who asked. If she could win instead of paying for it, all the better.

  “No way she can make it a second round.” This came from the one-eyed scummer who had handed her the darts in the first place.

  She ignored the accompanying agreements from others in the room and kept her gaze on Old Beard.

  “You miss and I get the nice hauler you parked out front.”

  Jack shook his head, the confidence he’d granted her earlier melting under the pressure. She was tempted to back away simply to spare Jack the anxiety attack he was probably experiencing. Except something moved deep within, this urge to show off and prove how she was still her own person even when she was at the mercy of others.

  A grin and a wink, that was what she gave Jack in return. “It’s a bet. Someone give me a dart.”

  One-Eyed Scummer produced another dart and Shannon accepted it with a little bow. Time to secure herself a mattress and pillow for the night. No hard ground, blanket and an element. She took less than ten seconds to calculate her shot, cocking her wrist a bit higher so the dart would come down on top of the other one.

  Then she whistled sharply and let the pointed future fly. She’d taken a big risk, but that was how she treated every day, every situation. Risk big, win big. The dart sailed with the precision of a laser-punched hole into metal. It landed right in the bullseye and Shannon had to tense up her stance to keep from jumping into the air. Winning was fine, but gloating would only cause them more trouble.

  A mixture of groans and disbelief echoed around her, the loudest being Old Beard. She pivoted on her heel and took a slow saunter back to her bar stool. Jack was shocked to silence, not even looking at her. She started to wonder if he’d watched her win or had been too afraid to try.

  “All right, pay up. I won per the terms of the bet.”

  Old Beard faced away from her. When he turned back around, he slapped a key down on the bar top, attached to a piece of Marsanium beaten down into a ring, smooth and shiny. “Room’s up the stairs and on the left. Got a relief room attached. Don’t tear anything up or you pay for it. Get out after first light and I’ll have someone bring up your food and drink.”

  Jack lifted his head as Shannon reached for the key. He stilled her. “What if we want the food now?”

  “My word is good. Just like no one will touch your hauler. The Zephyr won fair and square. Shouldn’t have let you bait me like that.”

  Shannon’s shoulders locked up at the callback to her past. “How’d you know?”

  “Ephraim’s girl…the hair, never would forget it. Besides you got the same talent he had for throwing things, hitting targets.” Old Beard’s words cut deep. She was nothing like him…the man who’d blamed her for his wife’s death. The one who’d called her a murderer in the first place.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know. Thanks, Old Beard.” To Jack, she motioned to the stairs with her chin. “I’m headed up. Coming?”

  She didn’t wait for him to follow, just took off for the room, ready to get the hell out. If that old man remembered her, then likely others might. She didn’t need rumors or her old nickname to get kicked up. Might make things a little more challenging as they made their way toward Zephyr. The high she’d been riding from the close contact with Jack and nailing the board with those darts had all but faded as she trudged up the rickety wooden staircase to the weathered, red-painted door.

  Heavy steps followed her. “Hey, Shannon, wait up a minute. What the bartender said…”

  She paused, key turned in the lock. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  A gentle shove got the door to swing open and she stepped inside. The sun was near set, fading to a purple twilight illuminating the visible sky from the single window. A couple chairs with threadbare cushions, a rug, a small table to set food on or play a game. A heating element against the wall. But the big plus was the bed. Not some small single either. No, this bed could easily fit three. It was gigantic. This was what she remembered…with three pieces of the finest assembled cotton and soft foam cushions from the Upper planets.

  There were a couple blankets on top and some pillows. She wanted to sink down on that glorious piece of comfort and never get up.

  “This is why you were willing to bet the hauler.”

  “I don’t bet if I can’t win,” she replied, never taking her eyes off the bed, even as an electric tension surged in the air around her as he came to stop at her side.

  “Would have been nice to get a little more warning.”

  She chuckled and side-eyed him. “You need to learn to have fun. Live.”

  “You were betting every possible bit of wealth we have. It’s hard to leave that in the hands of someone I barely know. The last time you risked for a win, we lost our tent, our food—”

  “All right, I get it. But my latest achievement should more than make up for the error. Besides, we’re a day’s travel from our destination. If we leave at daybreak as our host instructed.”

  Jack always wore a bland expression with her, not enough smiles or views of the laugh lines around his mouth. Even now, as he looked at the bed, he seemed less than amused. “Am I going to be allowed to share that with you?”

  “Plenty of room for the both of us,” she replied, unable to stop smiling. Then she started to laugh, her entire body quaking with the hilarity of Jack’s somber mood to the prospect of sharing a sleeping space.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You…we slept beside each other propped up against a hauler last night. Hard rocky ground leaving indents in our ass cheeks. Yet you look even less enthusiastic about laying down next to me in comfortable surroundings. And you were the one who only brought one tent.”

  He sighed, a big heavy thing that left a second layer of tension in the room. Then he faced her. She wouldn’t look at him, a little flame of fear sparking inside her coupled with frustration because if he brought up her past again…

  “My apprehension has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

  She kept her lips sealed because bullshit. Men, women, all the same—everyone said it was them and not her, but in reality they hid their true feelings without the nuggets to confront them.

  He touched her arm, at first barely there then with a little more grip. “Could you at least face me while I’m trying to come clean?”

  “What are you talking about?” She angled toward him, reminded of the differences between them immediately. He was all light hair, tan skin, calluses, scars and rough work. She’d spent the majority of her years in space, was lighter toned, and she wasn’t nearly as tall. No, he beat her there, too. Along with the muscles she wanted to frame with her hands, massage, and explore.

  “We climb in that bed, the stiff wood you rubbed against downstairs will be right back and it’s damn difficult to ignore this for a second night in a row. Especially when there’s a comfortable area to spread out and explore. I could deny my attraction when the circumstances weren’t ideal, but this is…” He rubbed a hand over his jaw where a shade more than stubble was now present after a couple days of travel.

  Her mouth pursed in an ‘O’ shape. “Wait, you want me?”

  Damn if I’m not twisting the hell out of this.

  Jack had reached an impasse with himself somewhere between sitting at the bar watching Shannon throw that first dart and standing beside her at the end of the bed they’d have to share. His attraction wasn’t something he could separate from the business part of this anymore.

  Not when he’d held her in his arms for a brief moment or when she asked if he was hungry for something else. Hell, his mind had delved deep into his hedonistic dreams, urging him to speak up and ask for what he’d been denying himself.

  She can’t be trusted.

  But sex wasn’t about trust, was it? Not with his previous bed partners. Physical encounters were about pleasure, scratching an itch that his hand couldn’t satisfy. But she wore his necklace and he had put a lot of daydreams over the years into the woman that would show up one day wearing his jewelry and wanting to claim him.

  Shannon had not fit those dreams in the slightest. She wasn’t homely, a little shy and sporting a bobbed hairstyle in the colors of the rainbow. The last one was a bit far-fetched, sure, but he’d always liked women with a secret wild side. Wild as in they painted their nails or had a piercing in a private place…not in the sense they might gamble away everything he had on his person for a comfy bed.

  Still, he couldn’t deny those curls, curves and her devil-may-care swagger got his cock hard and his pulse racing. He enjoyed the thrill of her putting on the show for everyone downstairs. She had executed that plan and owned the room. Even the guitarist had gone silent in anticipation of her final throw.

  He was getting hard all over again at the memory of her hips beneath his hands, her arms around his neck and those luscious lips of hers. “Yeah, figured you gathered that answer on your own.” He pointed to the floor.

  “But…” She sputtered a bit, failing to make words. He liked the grav boot on the other foot for a minute. “You can’t stand me. You told me nothing short of fuck off, without those exact words, but your eyes. You’re always leaving when I’m showing up. Hemi even joked about how he’s got no idea what I did to—”

  “Enough.” He pulled her toward him in the same second as he cut off her speech, tired of her rambling all the ways he’d acted an asshole in an attempt to prevent exactly what was about to happen next. “I’m going to kiss you now and this is your one chance to object.”

  She peered up at him, eyes wide, and licked her damn lips before she smiled. “I’m waiting.”

  He wanted to wipe that smile right off her face, ratchet her desire up so she’d be begging for him to pound her into the mattress. But Jack had learned one thing over the years…patience. So instead of giving into the very thing he wanted, to put them both out of their misery. He kissed her…on the forehead.

  Then he let go of her and stepped back. “Think I’ll check out that washroom, maybe freshen up a bit.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Shannon stomped her foot on the floor. “You Full Throttle boys are being taught wrong if you think that’s a kiss.”

  She surged for him, latching her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, like a bob-tailed scratcher would to a fence post. Her mouth was on his in seconds and he leaned into it, hunching down to give her more access, powerless against the onslaught. As soon as they connected, every nerve in his body hummed to life like an element kicking on for the first time. He’d generate enough heat for the both of them.

  He moaned, more like a whimper, as she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, seeking entry. Shannon was a force of nature, as strong as any storm Mars could generate, and he gave her exactly what she sought.

  Their tongues were magnets of differing polarities. One minute tangled, then retreating, only to be helpless to join up again. He was doing his best just to remain standing and hold strong while she plundered him like a thief, eager to take and take. Jack loved how she kissed him, anchoring her hands in his hair and scratched at his scalp.

 

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