Page 2 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Jupiter’s muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and he growled again.

The older human shook his head. “Speak like a man.”

“Who. Are. You.” Jupiter formed the question through clenched teeth and over the growl that vibrated in his chest. Creek had never seen him so enraged.

“Andre Cervenka. Perhaps Seneca has mentioned me?”

Jupiter’s words dripped with disgust as he spoke. “He never mentioned the names of any of the humans who abused him.”

Ah, so that explained Jupiter’s simmering rage. His pack brother had been in the pleasure houses at some point. Being a pleasure slave was no easy escape from facing death in the arena. They were all forced to do terrible things.

Cervenka’s gray eyebrows lowered. “Abused him?” He shook his head, then smiled. “I loved him. Still do. And he loved me.”

Creek was relieved to see Feeona and Seneca approach before Jupiter could reach through the bars and rip the man’s throat out. It might be satisfying to see, but it would certainly end in his death.

Feeona stepped up alongside the man. “Children do learn to love their abusers.”

Cervenka’s face tightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned his gaze on Seneca, at Feeona’s side. “Ask Seneca. He’ll tell you.”

Seneca stood like a statue with his head bowed in submission, but Creek scented his fury.

St. Germaine had followed them over and he only looked amused, seemingly unaware of the danger he courted by standing so close.

Feeona stepped into Cervenka’s space, taking control of the conversation, and backing the man off—St. Germaine in his wake.

Jupiter’s gaze remained fixed on the painted face of his mate.

The moment the men were gone, Feeona’s gaze softened, and fear slipped through the decorative stripes of color across her eyes.

“Costumes and disguises are part of my life.” Her voice was low and husky. “But I’m still me, Jup.”

That final syllable jolted through Jupiter’s body, straightening his spine. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“Seneca calls you that all the time.” She reached over and twined her fingers with the other Dog’s.

The two were united, something that seemed to surprise Jupiter, though he didn’t seem to mind it.

Movement in the woman’s hair caught Creek’s attention. A small mechanical drone emerged, launched into the air, and flew toward Jupiter. It landed on his shoulder like a bug. The thing crawled closer to his throat and latched onto his shock collar.

“I’ve studied the design,” said Feeona. “But it will take me some time to hack both your collars.” She tipped her head to indicate Creek. “Where did he come from?”

Creek remained silent. Their conversation might be about him, but it didn’t include him.

There was little space for privacy in a cage in a crowded room, but Creek moved away to offer them the illusion, if not the fact.

He attempted to turn his mind back to the room’s defenses.

Which guards were in the room. Which would be a real threat if things turned violent.

But he couldn’t escape their discussion.

Jupiter shot a glance his way. “He was here when I arrived.”

“And we can trust him?”

The implication made Creek bristle inside, but he gave no outward reaction to the insult.

Jupiter raised an eyebrow at her question. “He’s shown no love for St. Germaine.”

Feeona smirked. “I can’t imagine he would.”

Jupiter rushed out a warning. “Morgan expects you to try to steal me. He’ll be ready. He doesn’t believe you have enough credits.”

The news didn’t seem to affect her at all. “What about Owens? I thought he’d be here, waiting for us. Have you seen him?” Owens was one of the five owners of Roma, the group that had created them all. Jupiter and Seneca had belonged to his house.

“No. Not yet.”

“Huh.” She looked over her shoulder as if she thought he might appear at that very moment.

“Problem?” Jupiter shifted his weight.

Feeona shrugged her gold-dusted shoulders. “No. Even if it was, I always have a backup plan.”

“Yes.” The word vibrated with anger in his throat. “But you also like to keep your problems and your plans hidden.”

Creek had heard Jupiter speak of his woman, naming her a thief and secretive. But he also called her smart and clever and warm and generous. Despite his rage, Jupiter would forgive the woman. It was a complex relationship, but Creek had no doubt of their commitment to each other and to Seneca.

It was Seneca who finally spoke to him as the lovers parted ways. He used their low speech and all he said was, “Prepare to fight.”

He was as prepared as he could be as he watched the pair walk away and toward the slaver. “A strong female.”

“Yes,” Jupiter agreed. “And Sen might not look it today, but he is every bit as skilled and brave as any gladiator in the arena.”

“I have no doubt. Only a fool would believe him as meek as he pretends to be.”

A dangerous grin slipped across Jupiter’s lips. “Let us hope St. Germain continues to be the fool.”

Creek followed Jupiter’s gaze across the room and saw Feeona and Seneca leaving the auction room with the slaver. “One day you will tell me the story of how a pleasure slave became a gladiator.”

“Perhaps Seneca will tell you his own story.”

Creek surprised himself with the optimistic thought that the day might come. Anticipation for the coming battle must be making him giddy. If there were fewer guards, say four to one, then his optimism might be warranted, but they were far outnumbered.

“She has a plan,” assured Jupiter. “She’s good at what she does.” He stretched his neck, tipping his head, then reached up and pulled the collar from his throat.

The small drone flew over and attached to Creek’s collar. He froze for only a second at the odd sensation of the mechanical legs against his skin, relaxing quickly as he grew accustomed to it.

So, the woman was to tip the odds in their favor. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled free. Yes, he was drunk on anticipation. It lasted as long as it took the drone to do its work on his collar. The tiny mechanical bug launched into the air and hovered around them.

Regrettably, the feeling drained away, leaving him on edge until the scent of more Arena Dogs reached him.

He glanced at Jupiter and saw a fully formed smile on the Dog’s face as some of the guards dashed through the guest entryway.

The remaining guards shouted, moving the guests away from the area.

“Jupiter?”

The other Dog yipped with joy. “I don’t know how, but it’s the rest of our pack.”

Blood rushed through Creek’s heart as he heard growls and barks and blaster fire. It grew nearer as three more Arena Dogs pushed into the room from the shuttle bay entrance. St. Germaine’s guards arced around them. One flew from the center of the cluster, crashing into the buyers.

Thank the stars—the waiting was over.

***

Grace sat cross-legged on the too-soft mattress with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Her simple white pants and top were warm enough, but the blanket brought comfort.

She wanted to throw it over her head and hide.

She would not freak out about the frightening announcements over the ship’s communication system.

Stay calm.

Always a sign it was time to panic.

Stay at your stations or remain where you are.

Well, she had no choice on that one.

Don’t resist and you won’t be harmed.

Resist what? And who exactly was being harmed?

Someone was apparently hijacking the ship that had been her prison for weeks.

But what could she do? She was locked in a cabin, wearing an exploding collar, locked out of the only communications panel in the room.

There weren’t a lot of options. She didn’t even know if the hijackers would be any better than her kidnappers.

For all she knew, it could be a rival bunch of slavers.

Even if it was an Alliance Enforcer team, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be rescued—not if it put her sister’s life at risk.

She was contemplating the odds that things might fall in her favor when the door to her little slice of hell slid open.

A man in gray quasi-military garb slipped in on silent feet.

Professional, maybe. But not in an Alliance uniform.

A navigation display flicked across the headset he wore before it faded to nothing.

A com device sat in his ear. He was in the middle of life with short brown hair and a dimple in his chin.

“Miss Hobbs-Venter?” The politeness in his low raspy voice startled her…and eased some of her fear.

Shrugging off the blanket, she untangled her feet and swung them to the side of the bed. “Yes?”

The large weapon that had led his entry into the room now pointed toward the floor. “I’m here to take you to your sister.” He attached the weapon to a clip on his vest as he spoke.

She nearly jumped to her feet at the mention of Jennifer. “Are we being released?” Had her sister given in to Roma’s demands just to save her? Heavens, she hoped not.

He looked her up and down as he approached and reached out to grab ahold of the stupid collar ringing her neck. “What is this hunk of outdated tech?”

She huffed and couldn’t stop the roll of her eyes. “Exploding collar,” she mumbled. It was too ridiculous for words, but also scary as hell.

“Well, fuh…damn.” His expelled breath was almost as tortured as hers had been. He made a little spinning motion with one finger. “Turn, so I can get a look at the lock.”

He pushed her ash blond hair to the side with a gloved hand and she did as he said, staying silent for a good sixty seconds to give him time to look.

“Morgan has the code-key. If we’re being released…

” She hadn’t failed to notice his non-answer about that.

“Or are you supposed to be rescuing me?” She gulped down her fear and mustered her courage.

“Because I’m not leaving without my sister. ”

Whatever he did next shot pain through the soft tissue of her neck where the heavy metal rested. She would be bruised, but thanks to the medical miracle in her bloodstream, it wouldn’t last long.

“We’re just moving you, Miss Hobbs-Venter. Your sister isn’t on the ship. You know that, right?”

She gave him an “um-hmm” of agreement as she pressed her lips together against the discomfort brought on by his efforts. If he was working for Roma, with Morgan St. Germaine, why didn’t he have the code-key for the collar?

“Who are you?” She whispered it almost talking to herself.

“Call me Ghost.”

She was about to ask him what kind of name that was when he cursed and stepped back from her.

She twisted to see him frowning with a hand against his temple.

“Zenith? Come in, Zenith.” He wasn’t talking to her.

Wasn’t even looking at her anymore. “Zenith, do you read?” He paused, then continued.

“What was… Roger that. I’m with the package now, but I have a prob— Say again… ”

Voices murmured through his earpiece too softly for her to make out words.

“Fuck!” He scowled as he started readjusting his equipment. “Fuck. Fuck.”

She could have told him from experience that all the expletives in the world wouldn’t do him any good on this cursed slave ship. She’d tried them all in the privacy of her little room.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a little shake as he held her gaze.

“Here’s the situation. Roma wanted this ship disappeared to cover up their little problem with escaped Arena Dogs.

” Her mouth almost fell open at that. They wanted to destroy the ship?

Were there Arena Dogs onboard? “So, they sent my team in to extract you and take you to where your sister is being held.” His grip tightened as he spoke, eyes cold.

All trace of the polite soldier gone. This man was dangerous.

“With that collar and whatever the fuck else is going on, that isn’t happening right now.

It might take a little longer than planned, but I will get you to your sister.

” He tapped his thumb against his chest. “I’m you’re only way off this ship alive. Got it?”

She nodded, afraid to do anything else.

“If you see any Arena Dogs, hide. They aren’t known to be friendly to humans and I don’t want you dead before I can get you out of here.” She held her expression neutral, even if she wanted to hide, there was nowhere she could go with the collar around her neck.

His weapon was suddenly back in his hands, and he strode to the door with purpose. It slid open, and he peered out, then put his back to the wall and focused his death stare in her direction.

“I’m going to leave you here for now, but I’ll find you when all this has died down. I’ll find you when the time is right, and we will exit this ship together. You will not tell anyone you’ve seen me. Am I clear?”

“C-clear,” she repeated.

“Your life and your sister’s life depend on you, Miss Hobbs-Venter. If you ever want to see her alive again, you’re going to do exactly what I said.”

His gaze drilled into her and left her hollow inside. As he slipped silently out of the room, she believed he had the power to enforce his will.