Page 6 of Tempting Jupiter (Arena Dogs #2)

Chapter Five

By the time Feeona finished with the big guy’s shoulder, he’d disappeared behind eyelids edged with long, delicate lashes.

Those lashes had to be the only delicate thing on the man.

They’d settled against the puffy purple shadows that stained the skin below his eyes.

In sleep, all the guarded gruffness had drained away from his features.

Feeona smoothed her hand over his short, dark hair.

She’d learned as a child that pain could make a man lash out, but he’d taken the hurt she’d had to inflict until it had shut him down.

She sat on the bunk, fascinated by the wounded beast taking up most of the space.

Even in sleep, he was a big, powerful man, but his presence was more reassuring than threatening.

She couldn’t say why. It couldn’t be the fact that he clearly meant something to the other Arena Dog.

Even the worst of men had friends. It couldn’t be that he hadn’t killed her when he awoke to find her crouched over him, when he clearly hated humans.

That had been in his own best interest. It couldn’t be that she saw a familiar combination of vulnerability and inner strength in him. Why should she care one whit?

And Feeona was getting off this lousy ship in…

she started to check the time, then realized, she needed to reconfirm course and speed to update her schedule.

And that meant getting Bug back to an unsecured terminal.

Feeona got to her feet and paced to the wall.

She slapped her palms against the metallic reminder of her confinement and pressed her forehead to the cool, flat surface.

The chill did little to sharpen her focus.

She’d been too damn preoccupied with the injured lug when she should be concentrating on the plan.

Her plan. She had a job to do. Getting to the meet with her buyer had to be her top priority.

She needed the money he’d pay for the navigation charts she’d stolen off Fitzhew’s computers, charts Fitz still didn’t know she had, and she needed to get back to Petro-5 before Toolman decided to sell the cargo waiting for her there out from under her.

Her thoughts drifted back to the lavender-eyed Arena Dog who’d asked her to help his friend. Her gaze settled on the man sleeping in the cell’s only bunk and the small wedge of space where she’d sat while working on his shoulder. His chest rose and fell in the relaxed rhythm of deep sleep.

She needed to work with Bug to get updated data from the navigation system and then she needed rest, but that wedge wasn’t really enough space to ensure she wouldn’t end up on her butt on the floor if she did actually unwind enough to sleep.

The rhythmic hum and shimmer of the pulse field added hazard to the unappealing deckplates beneath her feet.

Eyes tracing the cold, unadorned walls of her cell, Feeona turned in place.

Definitely not the corner with the cleansing unit.

Her patient and the bunk he occupied were the only inviting things in the room.

One step and she was beside the bunk. She sat, slipped out of her boots, and swung her legs up onto the bed.

Pushing away the memory of how he looked in the buff, she carefully turned onto her side and wiggled into a semi-comfortable position.

She stretched one leg over his, wedging her toes beneath his muscled calf to ward off any urge to roll away and off the bunk.

His tight black pants ended just below his knees and his boots stopped at his ankle.

For a half second she wished she’d taken off her socks so she could feel his heat, skin to skin.

The broad, bare expanse of his chest offered a much more effective temptation.

Avoiding his injuries, Feeona wrapped an arm across him and pressed her cheek against his good shoulder.

His warmth soaked into her, relaxing her muscles.

Beneath the scent of cleanser, a masculine hint of leather teased her nose.

She closed her eyes and activated Bug where it sat hidden in the air vent. She sent the remote looking for a terminal. The controls were sluggish. Bug needed to charge after all the heavy lifting it had done to get supplies for her patient.

Even with her focus on Bug, she could feel the man pressed against her, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

With a thought she activated the sensory overlay that would allow her to see what Bug saw as it moved through the ship’s environmental conduits.

Using the ship’s schematics, Feeona guided Bug toward the nearest terminals.

There were two that looked promising. One in the ship’s tiny science lab and another in the medical center.

Fitz probably didn’t even have a qualified science officer, so there was unlikely to be anyone in the lab, but Bug had gotten in and out of the medical center several times without being noticed.

No reason to think it couldn’t be done again.

As Feeona directed Bug to the riskier choice, she told herself she wasn’t checking to see if lavender-eyes… Seneca… had gotten medical attention for her own benefit. If she could reassure her cellmate with that information, it would just be a bonus.

As the darkness of the conduit gave way to the light of a nearby vent, Feeona’s mind briefly rebelled at the new sensory input.

With light came a clearer image of surfaces and shapes, but also a Bug-sized sense of scale.

The air vent filled her field of vision like the opening of a gigantic cave.

The distance and the drop-off to the surfaces below seemed terrifyingly enormous until her intelligence won over animal instinct and her perspective snapped into place.

Bug hovered in the conduit and the drop to the floor was no more than a couple of meters, and Feeona lay safely tucked against the big guy’s side.

“My injuries are minor.” In the room below, Seneca’s muscles tensed and bulged as he spoke to the medic in deceptively soft tones. “Jupiter is the one who needs medical attention.”

Bug’s predictive programming suggested the Arena Dog could easily break his restraints, but he was trying the honey tactic before turning to brute force.

Wise man.

***

Seneca strained to keep his voice calm as the medic sealed his wounds. “Your leader might be angry now, but when his temper cools, he’ll remember Jupiter is far more valuable alive than dead. If Fitzhew is like the arena masters, he’ll blame you for his poor judgment.”

The medic snorted and bunched his lips in a pouty grimace. “Captain knows what he’s doing. Sometimes crew morale is more important than profit.”

“The dead men?” Seneca had smelled them when they’d brought him into the room.

“If you know about them, you can understand why your pal’s in the brig.”

The bodies weren’t in plain sight, but they weren’t far. Maybe in an adjacent room. “I don’t know what happened, but I know Jupiter does not attack without cause, not even humans.”

The medic snorted again as he finished his work and stepped back. “Just doing their job. Had families, plans, the same as the rest of the crew.”

Seneca watched him cross the room and reach into a cabinet. He had to get to Jupiter. Jup meant more to him than his own life.

He tensed, preparing to break out of the ridiculously weak bonds, when a strange noise stilled him.

The noise had been there for some time, blending in with other mechanical and electrical noise, but it had changed.

The rhythmic pulse had transformed into something more like speech.

His ears pricked as he focused on the sound far outside the audible range of the human in the room.

“Jupiter’s okay.” The tiny almost-voice repeated the message as the medic loaded a small vial into an injection gun.

The voice agitated Seneca’s nervous system like the buzzing of an insect in his ear. He shook his head to rid himself of the sensation. He needed to act, if he meant to take the man by surprise.

“I took care of him, like you asked.” The voice refused to go away. “He’s safe for now, I promise.”

Could it be the woman from the cell? A transmission, perhaps? Did he believe her? He had no reason to believe her.

But he did.

A prick against his arm startled him. He’d gotten so distracted, he’d lost track of the medic. Lethargy crept through his muscles and his mind dulled.

“Don’t be afraid. It was only a sedative.” The tiny voice probably meant to reassure him. He rarely feared for his own life, but being drugged and unaware—that still terrified him.

“It’s okay,” the voice assured. “If you’re anything like Jupiter, that won’t keep you down long. We’ll talk later.”

The voice had moved closer. Seneca struggled against lead-lined eyelids as his vision softened.

Sound dulled. Sensation drained away. He tried to ask about Jupiter, but the muscles of his throat refused to obey.

After that, he thought the voice promised to watch over him, but it seemed to emanate from a silvery-winged being that hovered over him as he slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Feeona watched Seneca through Bug’s mechanical eyes.

The sensors told her that his heart beat slow but strong.

She backed Bug away. More and more of this second Arena Dog came into focus until she had a clear view of the entire tempting package.

In his own way, as tempting as the man pressed against her body.

There was no bulkiness to Seneca, but even as he slept, she could see definition on every muscle-covered inch of him.

Jupiter would want to know his friend’s condition, but she didn’t have to ogle him to find out.

Her scan told her that his injuries had been treated, ribs recently mended. That was good.

Bug’s low-power warning flashed across her virtual vision, reminding her of the other pressing matters that needed her attention.

She guided Bug to a terminal in a corner of the room, maneuvering the remote into a nearby hiding spot.

Bug needed to be close for a near field hack and power siphon to work.

With Bug out of sight, she got to work on updating her schedule.