Page 8 of Stealing Mercury (Arena Dogs #1)

Chapter Four

Before going to treat Resler, Samantha stopped at her quarters to change shirts.

If she’d gotten lucky and Drake and Resler hadn’t noticed her Cirrillian coloring, she didn’t want to risk another incident.

Once her color had come up, it was always easier to trigger it for a while.

The two Roma men had a knack for making her angry.

By the time she got to the cramped med-bay, Drake had the other man stripped down to his briefs and feeling no pain.

Eyes glassy, he barely registered her entry, but Drake didn’t miss a thing.

His eyes cataloged her from the toes of her boots to the fresh shirt and pearlescent salve she’d spread across her cheek.

“You okay?” His voice sounded oddly soft with none of the usual swagger and cockiness. His sincere concern was the last thing she needed when she wanted to hang onto the rage fueling her.

Samantha nodded to give herself time to swallow and work up enough moisture in her mouth to speak. “I used the med-kit in my room. It’s not bad. How is he?”

“Better than five minutes ago.” Resler was half sitting on the med-bed that had adjusted to something between standing and sitting to make it easier for him to climb on.

With a grunt of effort, Drake lifted Resler’s legs onto the bed and pushed the man back into a seated position.

Resler was too out of it to help. Drake had to shove the man’s hips to get him properly positioned in the bed.

“What did you give him?”

“A standard blocker. Nothing that will interfere with anything we have to do to treat the leg.”

There was disapproval in his eyes. He probably figured she’d leave him suffering given the choice, and maybe he was right. “I was more worried about mixing a pain killer with the liquor in his system.”

Samantha pressed the med-bed control to get the man lying flat, then reached for the sensor array mounted above the bed.

“I should look at that cheek.” Drake reached for her, but she turned to block him.

“Really, I’m fine.” She forced a tight grin onto her face and tossed a look over her shoulder. “Can you take the other side?”

Drake moved around the bed, then helped her pull the array down and over Resler’s legs.

Resler lurched up and grabbed Drake’s hand, stilling his progress. “You make sure it gets done right. That bitch will leave me crippled if you leave it up to her.” There was drool at the corner of his mouth, negating the effect of the threatening tone.

Drake nodded and moved Resler’s hand back to the bed.

Samantha pressed a sensor to his neck. “Lucky for you, this is a pretty sophisticated med-bay for such a small ship. The equipment will do most of the work.”

Drake pulled the mender out of its clearly labeled slot in the low ceiling above the med-bed, then positioned it over Resler’s leg. Samantha could tell by the chime it made that there was a problem.

Drake studied the mender’s interface screen, then looked up. “Have to reposition the bones first.” He said the words under his breath. If he’d waited on the painkiller, they could’ve done a general anesthetic.

Samantha didn’t have much sympathy for Resler, but cruelty was beyond her. “We could give him a scrubber to counter the painkiller and the liquor.”

Drake shook his head. “He’ll pass out when we get started.”

Together, they followed the mender’s guidance to realign the cracked bone. Drake turned out to be right. The first time he put tension on Resler’s leg, pulling it out straight, the brute went under.

Samantha looked across the mender to this pragmatic and efficient Drake and wondered where this side of him had come from. “You’ve done this sort of thing before.”

“So have you.” He answered with no bravado, no swagger.

After the craziness of the last hour, Samantha struggled to adjust. “Basic medical is part of my training.”

“That’s right.” Drake nodded. “As pilot, you’re responsible for the lives of everyone on board.” He recalled her words with no venom or rancor in his voice. His eyes were on the screen. Without his perpetually sly look to harden his features, he seemed almost handsome.

It was a rare moment when she could genuinely say she didn’t mind talking to him and she needed to smooth things over. It only made sense to make conversation. “So, where have you done this sort of thing before?”

He spoke without looking up. “I was born in the Mitna Refugee Camp on Denver3.”

“That’s attached to a mining colony, right?”

He made an mmm of agreement. “What medical care we had access to came at a high price—a debt to the Directorate—and that meant a stint in the mines.”

“So how did you end up with Roma?”

“I hopped freighters for a while. Working in trade for transport and board. Landed on Roma and never looked back.”

His gaze lifted.

“If you focus on your job and get us where we’re going without any more of this shit—” He waved a hand at Resler’s mending leg. “Owens will compensate you well and you might even get a hand-up. The man has a lot of allies.”

Not friends, Samantha thought. He hadn’t said Owens had friends. But then she’d lost her friends in an instant, so maybe she was the fool. “If I try to explain what happened, we’re only going to argue.”

“Probably.”

“The man was drunk, Drake. You need to get him under control.”

“You don’t get it, Sam. Resler wasn’t the problem here, you were.” His glaze flicked to her bruise with a concerned look. His lips turned white from being pressed together before he went on. “If you hadn’t interfered, no one would’ve gotten hurt.”

“Except Mercury. And Carnage.”

The mender’s task complete, the screen went dark. Drake moved around to stand beside Samantha as she guided the mender back into its storage slot.

“I don’t want to fight, Sam. I don’t want any of this keeping us at odds.”

He reached for her wrist and brought her hand up as if he meant to press a kiss to her knuckles or maybe tug her in for something more.

Stars, where had he gotten the idea she wanted any part of that?

And why did it seem so offensively presumptuous when Mercury’s touch that first day hadn’t bothered her at all?

She tugged her hand away and tried to sound sincere. “Drake, I’m flattered, but—”

Cruel arrogance swept back onto his face as if the nicer Drake had been a holographic mask, easily dismissed. “Do you know what my job is with the Dogs, Sam?”

She had to think a moment, all the way back to Sevti’s introduction. He and Resler hadn’t talked much about their work in the time they’d been onboard. At least not in front of her. “You’re a trainer.”

“That’s right. So, I know what I’m talking about when I tell you Mercury can take a lot more than Resler could dish out with a single stun-stick.

The Dogs are tough bastards and Mercury is too well-trained to fight a guard.

” He huffed out a breath and shook his head, clearly realizing that recent events had disproven his assertion. “At least he never would have before.”

Samantha took a breath and turned away to adjust the settings on the med-bed. “You’d expect him to just take the abuse?”

“It would be the smart thing to do. It would be over quicker that way and there’d be no repercussions.

I chose him, you know? Chose to work with him.

Because he’s smart. Aggressive, tough, but also trainable.

I had to bust my ass to keep up with him.

To find new tactics to keep them alive and winning.

I researched military and history vids for hours every night.

You have no idea how much I hate fucking history. ”

For a moment, Samantha entertained the notion that maybe he cared for the Arena Dogs, that maybe he believed he’d been helping them. When she turned back around, he’d propped against the wall and his attention seemed to be focused on the past.

“I spent the last five years of my life working with those Dogs and they had to fuck it all up. Fuck up everything I worked for. Fuck up my career.”

No. She hadn’t been wrong about Drake. This was a man who saw only his own interests. Cared only for his own wellbeing. He would never have compassion for anyone or anything that stood in his way. Samantha watched him shake off the barely leashed rage and head for the doorway.

And for once she showed prudence and kept her mouth shut.

***

When the hatch opened, Mercury was prepared to repeat his edict for the woman to stay away, and he was oddly disappointed when it was Drake that stepped inside.

Her willingness to stand up to Resler on his behalf confused him.

He could see no purpose to it, if she was allied with the whip-masters.

A game? But why? She’d stopped him from doing more damage to Resler.

But she’d seemed to believe she was protecting him.

She’d rushed Resler like a young warrior, all courage and no thought for her own safety.

He shook his head and studied the cold eyes of the whip-master.

If she was not in league with Drake, she was in danger and her failure to recognize the extent of the masters’ cruelty only gave him more reason to warn her away. Such ignorance was dangerous for her.

He got to his feet slowly, watching the whip-master’s hand tighten around a dart gun.

Carnage panted heavily, sprawled across the floor of his cage, still hurting from the effects of the stun-stick on his healing internal injuries.

With no food or medical care and nothing but abuse since the Owner had sentenced them to death, his injuries where healing more slowly than they should.

In the cage beside him, Lo’s muscles tensed.

Mercury knew his pack brother was fighting against his fear. Lo feared almost nothing.

Almost.