Adiron (Corsair Brothers 1)

I need my gun back.

"And where is the oldest va Sithai brother, hmm?" Shaalyn asks, interrupting my murderous thoughts.

"Who?" I blurt out.

"Mathiras va Sithai? He's the oldest one of the brothers, and the smartest. Where's he off to?" Her voice is calm and sweet.

"I don't know," I answer honestly, and then gloss it up with a lie. "I never saw him." I can't tell if Shaalyn buys my lie or not, so I decide to gloss it up with a little more acting. "I'm hungry. Do you have something other than noodles?" I make my voice as whiny as possible.

I'm not hungry, actually. But if I can leave this med-bay, I can get back to my gun and…what, hide it under my paper gown? I don't know. But Adiron's on this ship, and I need to stay awake to be with him. Better yet, I need to get the gun to him.

Shaalyn makes the clucking noise with her tongue again, as if I'm a naughty child. "Would you like fruit then, my darling? Something sweet?"

I lift my head, nodding.

She strokes my hair again. "Or perhaps a cake of some kind?"

"Yes, please." Preferably one with a file in it, so I can break Adiron out of his prison.

The long-fingered hand tightens on my hair, and suddenly my head is wrenched back, pain slamming through my body. I gasp in shock, staring at the menacing woman that looms over me. "Then you shouldn't have lied, should you? Do you think I'm stupid?" She pulls on my hair tighter, so painfully that I can feel strands of hair ripping out of my scalp. "Tell me the truth, you little shit. Where. Is. Mathiras?"

My eyes flood with tears of pain, but a different sensation courses through my body. Adrenaline. At least I don't have to pretend to like this bitch any longer. With all of my strength, I pull my hand back and punch Shaalyn right in that proud blue nose of hers.

Blood sprays everywhere. She shrieks.

I do, too. I'm pretty sure I've broken my hand. I'm also pretty sure she's going to kill me now.

Worth it.

65

ADIRON

I twiddle my thumbs as I lean against the wall of my prison cell, my tail flicking patterns into the dust on the tile floors. I can't help but compare Lord Straik's prison cell—the one with the gentle scents and shiny new walls—to Shaalyn's pit. There's crusted, dried blood on the plas-film bedding, the lavatory's little more than a hole cut into a panel, and I'm pretty sure it's overflowing. There's three cells down here in the dank, cold brig of Shaalyn's ship, and I'm pretty sure whoever was in cell number three died two days ago.

Then again, that smell might just be the overflowing lavatory.

Up above, I hear the sound of booted feet running back and forth, and I can't help but hope all that hubbub is Jade giving them utter hell. I worry about her—I wouldn't be a mesakkah male if I didn't worry about my mate—but I know she can take care of herself. I just want to hover over her while she does. Protectively. But she survived for years on her own without me. She'll get through this, too. Shaalyn won't want to kill her. The moment Jade crawled out of that wall (taking all my hopes with her) I could practically see credits flashing in Shaalyn's eyes.

There's nothing that Shaalyn likes more than easy credits.

Right now, I'm guessing they've found the pods in the cargo bay and are trying to figure out the best way to extract them. I blew the door controls open, so it's not like they can't get in there. Getting in there isn't the problem at all. It's getting them out of the Star and back to civilized shipping lanes. Shaalyn's little cruiser is speedy, but it's not built to haul large cargo. She's more of a cut-and-run sort, a rob-them-and-leave-no-one-alive type. But the Buoyant Star is going to scream of credits—stripping that big ship would ensure a small fortune all on its own—and the ship and the cargo?

Shaalyn's going to want it all.

Which is a good thing for me. It means I've got some time to figure out how to get out of this hold, reunite with my female, and save the day. It's not going to be easy. I have no weapon. No plan. No allies. Jade's been separated from me. I'm outnumbered at least seven to one.

I've had worse odds, though.

I can figure something out, though. I just need an opportunity. As long as I don't give up (and I won't), something will present itself. Luck's great and all, but a lot of the time, it's less about luck and more about leaving yourself open to whatever falls into your lap. And when luck fails you, you make your own keffing luck.