Book 5: Zerconian Warriors
Willa stared down at the unconscious Zerconian. What was his story?
And why the hell did she care?
He was nothing to her. Just a bonus to her share of the pot. Which was going to be quite low, unless they hurried their asses up and got their cargo load of weapons to Lilan.
Nolan had checked him over, bandaging his head. Steele had placed hover cuffs around the Zerconian’s wrists and ankles, securing him to the bunk. There was no mattress, so it had to be uncomfortable, lying on the hard bunk. But he was their prisoner, not their guest.
So why the hell was she sitting here, staring at him like a nurse watching over her patient? She didn’t know him. She shouldn’t give him another thought. If it wasn’t such a ridiculous thought, she might consider that she was worried about him.
It was laughable. That so wasn’t her. She didn’t know how to be caring or soothing or any shit like that. All she understood was mechanics. Engines were easy. If they weren’t running right, you fixed them. People were much more difficult. They had feelings and emotions. They wanted things from you. And if you broke something it wasn’t always fixable.
She shouldn’t be here. She should be getting prepared in case everything went to shit on their mission.
And let’s face it, most of the time things went to shit.
They weren’t going to do anything about this guy until after they’d safely delivered the weapons to Lilan. No point in ransoming him, if they weren’t going to make it through this mission to collect the credits. Not exactly a cheerful thought.
She studied him. Somehow, even unconscious, he managed to look intimidating. Her hands itched with the urge to touch the silken, dark hair lying around his face. His eyelashes were impossibly long. Too beautiful for such a masculine face. With such a strong jawline and structured cheeks, he looked hard. Dangerous.
There had to be something wrong with him. Some flaw. Maybe he had a pimple. Yeah, a big pus-filled pimple. Nope. Hairy nostrils? Surprisingly not. Maybe he had a hairy back or a small penis.
Yeah, she wasn’t going to check.
Was she?
She glanced down at his crotch. The tight pants he wore didn’t leave much to the imagination. He certainly didn’t seem small. But there was only one way to find out.
No, that was wrong. It was creepy. He was asleep.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Willa,” she whispered.
The Zerconian groaned, his eyes fluttering open. She stilled, watching him warily. He was tied up. He couldn’t do anything to her.
Dark eyes studied her. He turned his head, searching the room. Was he about to fly off the handle?
“You are alone?” His husky voice sent a shiver up her spine. What was wrong with her?
“Yes.”
His gaze narrowed. “Leave.”
The urge to obey the command in his deep voice shocked her. So, of course, she did the complete opposite. Leaning back in her chair, she folded her arms over her chest.
“No.”
“It is not safe here.” He scowled, his face thunderous.
“In case you didn’t notice, buddy, you’re bound with hover cuffs. If anyone is in danger here, it’s you.”
He gave her a look usually reserved for idiots. “And how do you think to harm me? You are small and weak.”
Small? Weak? “I have a blaster. I wouldn’t have to waste my time hitting you with my puny fists.”
“You think these cuffs will hold me when I lose control? I will kill you before you even pull your blaster. Leave.”