Page 11 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Chapter Seven

It was early the next morning when Creek went to Grace’s quarters.

Samantha had moved her to an empty cabin next to several crew that she’d decided could be trusted to continue to keep the ship running.

One of the male Dreat and several humans had been assigned to keep an eye on the crew cabins and they were gathered in the corridor tossing a ball back and forth.

No one interfered when he approached Grace’s cabin door and rang the entry chime.

The door slid open and Grace stood in front of him. She blinked then gave him a half smile. She was wearing the same crew work suit that swallowed her up in too much fabric.

His own borrowed clothes—close-fitting pants and a loose tunic—had come from Jupiter and fit him well.

The jumpsuit fit her height but hid most of the creamy white skin he remembered from the day before.

A high collar covered the bruises that had marred the curve of her slender neck.

Her hair hung loose, and he resisted the urge to put a hand in it.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” She looked up at him with large, curious eyes. “Why?”

“The bruises.”

“Oh.” Her blue eyes blinked as if the thought startled her. “They were already healing.” She shrugged. “I’m fine, really.”

He watched the soft silk of her hair slide over her shoulders with the movement.

“Creek?” Her voice called him out of his reverie, and he realized they’d been standing in silence for nearly a minute.

“I’ll walk you to the mess hall for a meal.”

Her fingers tapped idly against her thigh and her smile was timid. “I’m supposed to be reporting to the med-bay?”

“You have time.”

Her eyebrows lifted at his insistence, but she conceded. “Okay.”

“Come.” He gestured her out of the room then walked beside her through the corridor. It took only a moment to notice that her gait was off. He came to an immediate stop. “You’re limping.” The words came out like an accusation, but he could do nothing to soften them after they were already spoken.

“I tripped this morning and sprained my ankle. It’s fine, really. I’ll get a soother when I get to med-bay.”

Her dismissal did nothing to lesson his fury, but he kept that to himself. “I’ll carry you.”

She laughed. “It isn’t that serious. Let’s just walk a little slower and I’ll be fine.”

Creek scowled, but he wouldn’t argue. They walked on…more slowly…and in silence. A silence that was painful and unproductive. He was supposed to be learning more about her. Why in all the hells had Mercury thought him the right person for the task.

When they reached the mess hall, she took a basic meal from the selections arranged on the counter. After a quick glance around the room, she looked up to meet his gaze. “It looks like something out of a recreational cruise brochure, doesn’t it?”

He surveyed the room, noting for the first time that the walls were decorated with art that depicted vivid landscapes from far off worlds and the tables and chairs were of good quality.

Such care had not been taken in the slave hold—the cells had been made with the latest tech, but the comforts had been lacking.

“Over here,” he suggested. Some of the crew were sitting together in small groups as they ate. Creek led Grace to an empty table away from the other humans. She seemed content enough to follow.

She slipped gracefully into a seat and began to arrange her meal in front of her. Creek sat opposite her with his own meal. He had no idea how to befriend her, but he’d been advised to talk to her about her family.

“Mercury tells me you did not want them to contact your family.”

She grimaced. “I’m not sure if they know I was kidnapped.”

Her eyes did not meet his and one hand slipped below the table. Probably to tap on her thigh.

“When you release me at the nearest port, I’ll contact my parents and they’ll make arrangements for me to travel home.” She took a bite of her meal. “No need to worry them now.”

Creek silently swore. Her reasoning made no sense. “You said you were with your brother when Morgan took you.”

“Yes, I’d been traveling with him.” She studied her tray a long moment. “But I’d been talking about leaving.” Finally, she looked up at him, face almost pleading, though he wasn’t sure for what. “My family is overprotective.” She worried at the edge of a napkin. “Maybe they were right.”

“Right?”

“To be protective,” she said. “I didn’t do a very good job of looking after myself even for the few hours my brother left me alone.”

Instinct made Creek want to hold her until the misery left her face. Guilt weighed across his shoulders. He wanted to let her tell him her story in her own time, but he needed her to talk . “Tell me about him, your brother.”

A slight smile slipped onto her lips. “His name is Martin. He’s a talented medic.

We’ve always been close. For the last few years, I’ve been his assistant in his medical research practice.

He’s brilliant but not always the best with patients.

” That half-formed smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Do you have brothers? Pack brothers, I mean.”

Brothers. All Arena Dogs shared the instinct for pack. But he’d been denied those bonds, time and again. He shook his head but didn’t explain. How could he? “Even if he thinks you left freely, will he not worry?”

“Yes. I’m sure he will.” She looked into her lap, all trace of the smile gone. “But there is likely nothing I could say that would make things better.” Grace took several bites of her meal before she continued. “How long before you’ll be releasing the prisoners? Releasing me?”

He hated that she lumped herself in with vile evildoers. “You aren’t a prisoner.”

“No?”

Creek shook his head. “I’m not sure when you or the crew will be able to leave, but the slaver’s guests are being released today. Right before we go into skipspace.”

“Today?” The color drained from her cheeks and her hands disappeared below the table. Did she fear they’d break free during the transfer?

“Yes. There’s no danger.”

“How are they being released? We’re not at a space port.”

“Most of them came on their own small ships,” Creek explained. “Feeona is handling their release. She’ll ensure they can’t cause us any harm when they go.”

Grace pushed her food away. “Maybe I should leave with them. The sooner to get back to my family.”

“That wouldn’t be safe. They’re vile. People who would buy slaves.

” He clasped her fingers on the table. They were cool and stiff but relaxed as he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand.

“We’d never leave you in the care of any of those bastards.

Besides, we need your medical skills, remember? ”

She nodded in response. “Right.”

“Good.” He settled back in the chair. “Now, finish your meal while you tell me about the rest of your family.”

She did as he asked, opening the package of an energy square. “My parents are both scientists at the top of their fields.”

Creek didn’t know much about scientists, but he understood she meant they were good at whatever it was they did. “They are respected.” Respect was important.

“Very much,” Grace said. “When I was growing up, there were always other scientists coming to work with them. Many renowned in their own specialties.”

“And your siblings? You mentioned your brother and a sister, I think.”

“You have an excellent memory.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

Hers was warm again and briefly it soothed the constant ache.

He couldn’t remember ever having so much warmth and gentleness.

How was he supposed to pay attention to her words when she kept touching him?

“I have five brothers and four sisters,” she continued. “I’m the youngest. The last.”

The words made her seem sad, but he didn’t understand why. Did birth order matter to human families? If so, no one had ever mentioned it to him. “Ten children. That is large for a human family.”

“My parents have a big legacy to pass on. We were also experiments to them. Could they be the perfect parents? Raising the most perfect children? All of my siblings are brilliant. They’ve made our parents very proud.”

But not Grace, it seemed. She seemed to barely count herself among her successful family.

Grace looked up from her half-eaten meal. “I guess I took more than I could eat. I don’t seem very hungry. Maybe we could go to the med-bay now?”

Creek nodded and took her tray to the waste recycler, silently cursing the family that had made her feel so small.

***

Grace followed Creek to the med-bay, her feet on autopilot.

All night her mind had been busy obsessing over the man called Ghost and scenarios where her sister would end up dead.

When he’d left her in her cabin with the collar still around her neck, he’d warned her to keep his presence a secret and promised to take her to her sister when they got off the ship.

That had been before she’d known it was Arena Dogs taking over the ship.

But it didn’t matter. All she could concern herself with was Jennifer’s safety.

And to ensure her safety she needed to get to her.

And how was she to do that if Ghost would be leaving the ship without her today?

After hours with the crew yesterday and more hours of thinking things through in her quarters, she’d deduced that he must be hiding among the auction guests.

It made sense. The crew would know he wasn’t one of them.

When they reached the med-bay she was surprised to see two Dreat males in the hall, as if guarding the doors.

Why was she surprised? Of course Creek would take her somewhere heavily guarded.

They still had no reason to trust her. And rightly so.

But she needed to gain their trust if she was going to get to Ghost.

Creek greeted the Dreat and they replied in their own tongue. She had an ear for languages but she suspected her hearing wasn’t sensitive enough to pick up all the subtleties of Dreatish. Creek would likely have excellent hearing. Most Arena Dogs could hear far beyond the range of ordinary humans.

After exchanging greetings and nods, they went into medical.

There was another Dreat inside, standing guard over one of the patients lying in the med-beds.

Everything in the med-bay was familiar. It was all standard stuff.

None of the specialized equipment in her sibling’s research lab.

She would do fine. Medic Shawber was applying pressure to a wound in the abdomen of one patient—a man with black curly hair and rich brown skin.

Then she noticed the other patient. The one the Dreat was standing guard over.

He was no longer wearing the tactical gear, but it was unmistakably Ghost.

“What happened?” Creek asked.

The medic looked up. “These two are some of Morgan’s guests. According to our Dreat friends, they got into a fight over rations this morning. Idiots stabbed each other with forks from the food trays.”

The man he was working on moaned in pain.

“Look,” said the medic. “Unless you’re here to help, this is not a good time for a visit.”

“I am here to help,” said Grace.

He nodded. “Good. Get over here and control the bleeding while I suture.”

Grace hurried over, then stopped and took a moment to roll her oversized sleeves farther up her arms. Now she wished she’d asked for something better fitting.

She moved her hands beneath the sealer unit then followed the medic’s instruction to clear the way for him to use the suture threader.

He grunted his approval at her lack of hesitation. As the medic worked, she glanced up to see Creek watching her.

Ghost was watching her, too. A smirk twisted his features as he propped on one elbow to lift his head.

She returned her attention to the patient under her hands, but she was still aware of Creek’s presence and the moment when he finally slipped out of the room.

The loss squeezed her heart and let fear slip inside.

She might need to speak with Ghost, but he was working for Roma and that made him dangerous.

When the first patient was fully sutured, and all his injuries mended and cleaned, she and the medic moved on to the one still smirking at her and the Dreat moved to stand by the door.

One of Ghost’s arms was fractured but the injury was much less serious than the one he had, no doubt, inflicted on the other man.

After they’d mended the bone, the medic commended her skills and left her to tend to his minor injuries, scrapes, and bruises.

Ghost’s name, according to the medic, was Patel.

“Good to see you, Miss Hobbs-Venter,” he said under his breath. “What a happy coincidence that we both ended up here today.”

Was it coincidence? If he knew her background, maybe he’d guessed they would end up putting her skills to use. Especially if a few men were injured.

“You hurt that man over a breakfast tray,” she whispered.

“He’ll be fine, and you should be grateful we were both willing to take some damage for you,” he responded. “I couldn’t let us be released without you. His name is Santos and he’s the only other member of my team those Arena Dogs didn’t kill.”

He’d seen her with Creek, she realized. And now he wanted to drive a wedge between them. Roma knew the history of her family and the Arena Dogs.

“I’ll save being grateful for when you take me to my sister.”

“You do that, Grace.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “You do that. I’ve had a hard day’s work. By now we are safely in skipspace and together. Happy day.”

Happy day? Grace wanted to run and hide.