Grimjustin 2 disarmed, p.1
GrimJustin 2- Disarmed, page 1
GrimJustin 2: DisArmed
Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2007 Fiona Jayde
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
ISBN: 978-1-59596-698-8
Formats Available:
HTML, Adobe PDF,
MobiPocket, Microsoft Reader
Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
PO Box 1046
Martinsburg, WV 25402-1046
www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Chrissie Henderson
Cover Artist: Reneé George
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
GrimJustin 2: DisArmed
Fiona Jayde
Kara Dillon is a weapon.
Captured during a routine transport job, she is infected with the chemicals she was to deliver. The result is an explosive -- in her blood.
Halloway Duke is contracted to bring back a rogue pilot. Finding her isn’t a problem. Finding her to be Kara Dillon -- a lover who betrayed him into enemy hands -- is unpleasant. Finding he still wants her is not something he will disclose. He will return her to UkrainaDva and let her deal with the charges against her.
Except she now needs a steady influx of his DNA to stay alive. Duke gave her enough blood when he saved her life. That leaves… other methods. If she begs.
Prologue
The dark slime of her blood blurred out of focus.
Kara shifted. Hugging her knees tighter, she wedged herself deeper into the corner of the MediLab. The dizziness would pass eventually. She hoped.
She’d lost count of how many days she’d been stuck here. How much of her blood had they drawn out for testing? The medTechs would be back soon with their injectors and instruments. At least they hadn’t raped her. Lab rats were too valuable to damage, plus, there was a small matter of death to anyone exposed to her infected blood.
She thought of the weapon inside her. Easy and brilliant. Infect a carrier, pump in the activator. The carrier would be able to get anywhere, pass through any weapons check. A little nick, a bit of blood on a small but significant piece of equipment and bam. Watch it spark.
The guard restraining her in that last escape attempt was testament to a bonus feature. Strength didn’t mean shit when your hired muscle was allergic to the toxin. Gingerly she touched a fingertip to the cut on her lip. The guard had struck her and two seconds later folded, eyes bulging, choking on his own swelling tongue. Die, fucker.
With a feverish gaze she scanned her handiwork. Steaming consoles, sparking scanStations. Pristine white surfaces stained with blood, sparkling with iceCrystal shards -- broken vials of her own blood. They’d left her a number of them -- in a hurry to get out after the cheap Davidian bioSuit didn’t protect their guard from the toxin.
She was a pilot -- not a glorified weapon in some idiotic arms race. Why choose her? She had no training in infiltration, no skills of hacking into security, not enough charm to bypass human security units. She was here because she could absorb the toxin -- that same toxin she idiotically delivered to this fucking planet in the first place.
It burned her insides when they first injected it. After the episode with the guard, she tried to use it to escape. Not that it helped. Doors weren’t wired. Fucking lock and key. Cheap ancient tech. As a consolation prize she trashed the lab -- smashing the vials of her blood on compStations and testConsoles. Dark red oozing on sparkling white, smoke and sparks weaving together in some complicated dance.
She heard something beyond the walls. Blinked hard. Focused slowly.
Laser blasts? She gripped a blood vial in her hand, rolled onto stiffened knees. When the room spun, she fought to keep focus. She smelled something burning.
The door burst open. A figure advanced through the thickening smoke.
She knew that walk.
She struggled to recognize him through blurred vision. Caught her breath when she did -- when he pointed that laserBlast dead at her forehead and curled his lip into a humorless smile.
“Kara Dillon.”
The hope that flared inside her -- the joyous hope that maybe he’d charged in to get her out of this shithole -- died under that mocking glare.
“You’re under arrest.” His eyes, the cool steel gray of them, were flat. Disgusted.
Ignoring pain, she rolled to her feet, hating the weakness of being on her knees in front of him. “On whose authority?” Her throat was dry. The room was spinning faster.
His mouth was a cruel slash on a lean, striking face.
“Mine.”
Chapter One
Everything was just fucking dandy.
Duke checked the grav fields, adjusting course to meet up with the rest of the team.
She should be fine now. Glowing with health. Shuttle sensors had monitored every breath, every pulse since he’d carried her unconscious body onboard. Luckily the medTechs were too busy crying over their equipment to object much when he carted her out of that shithole.
He’d pumped his own blood into her, along with the rest of the shit Lil had recommended -- electrolytes, fluids, meds. Unfortunately, there was nothing for that idiot mind of hers. The one that got the bigwigs of UkrainaDva to personally request his services.
Extract Pilot Dillon from Davidian SciLabs, deliver to Alan Verkov, Mid-Premiere.
Just another job. He’d gotten her out, he’d gotten her healthy, he would get her there. Professional. Just because he still wanted to fuck her brains out -- despite knowing what she was -- didn’t mean that professionalism wouldn’t apply.
He looked at her still body, clean now from the lightShower, asleep on the flattened coPilot chair, her face still pale, her lips hinting at pink. Her hair was pulled back, but he knew the wild black curls would reach the small of her back when unwound. He remembered the exact shade of her eyes, deep exotic brown, complemented by the smooth caramel hue of her skin. Now that her skin had been leeched of color, her long lashes formed delicate shadows on that usually strong face. The fragility of it irritated the hell out of him.
Fragility, his ass. She was a stubborn, lying, smuggling bitch.
He felt the old anger boil, clenched his fists at it. When incoming beeped, he didn’t bother keeping his voice soft. “Shuttle Three.”
“Your status?” Lil’s voice was pitched low. That serenely beautiful face hid a mind as sharp and smooth as a Terranian shoganSword. He wondered why he had no interest in stroking heat into those ice blue eyes.
“Peachy.” He deliberately didn’t look at the coPilot recliner. “Still on schedule.”
Lil lifted an elegant eyebrow. “Her readings are steady. All she needs is rest.”
Duke shrugged. As if he cared.
“You figured out what went on down there?”
Again, a shrug. “Not my problem. Knowing her, a deal went sour.” Because she was a greedy idiot.
Lil took a breath. “How many supplies have you got over there?”
He wasn’t sure he liked the question. “Enough to last. Planning to ditch me?”
Lips pursed, Lil raised an eyebrow. “The toxin in her blood. Until I can treat it, I can’t allow either of you to board.”
“I wasn’t affected.” He’d wondered at that as soon as he saw the sciTechs in their bioSuits.
“I have a theory about that.” She paused. “Brenner said you know her.”
Duke glanced to the side. Her mouth. He knew that mouth -- that carnal, dark fantasy of her lips wrapped around his cock. The soft cries, the lusty moans when he drove into her. The cool lies of whispered endearments.
He shrugged. “I fucked her a couple of times when we were on Orpheus.”
“I… see.” If Lil was bothered by the deliberately crude way he put it, she ignored it. “When you fucked her, did you know she was part Tervian?”
“You want a blow by blow account?”
“Some other time.” She rolled her eyes. “The DNA of that species is somewhat of a mystery. If you shared body fluids -- which would have happened as you fucked her” -- he almost chuckled at that -- “her DNA probably attached to yours. So, if she’s immune to this toxin, you’re immune to this toxin. Congratulations. Your dick saved your ass.”
Any other time he would have laughed.
Instead, Duke crossed his arms, his glance briefly touching on Kara’s motionless body. She still hadn’t moved. She’s fine. All stats normal. “Verkov obviously knew this.”
Lil raised her eyebrows. “You weren’t cautioned to wear protective gear?”
“Nope.” It would explain why Verkov requested him specifically. “Do me a favor, have Brenner triple the contract fee. Risk factor, etcetera. Send me the forms when he’s done.”
“Now I’m a secretary.” She sighed, rolling her eyes again. “That blood transfusion you did?”
He had a bad feeling about it when she paused. “What about it?”
“Her body absorbs a small amount of DNA she comes in contact with. From what I understand, she will need to adjust to ha ving a much larger… dosage, if you will. To ease potential symptoms, she will need a continuous recharge.”
“Recharge of what?” he snapped when she didn’t continue.
“Can the attitude.” She sounded annoyed. As if she had problems. “Your DNA. Blood, body fluid. You get the idea. When I get you both onboard I’ll be able to do a spray. Until then…” She trailed off.
Until then he had to provide her with blood, spit or semen. Fucking perfect.
* * *
Three hours later, Duke rechecked Kara’s vitals. Pulse, bp, all readings normal. Feeling like an idiot, he scanned for internal injuries, forcing himself not to look at the soft swell of her breasts under the dark gray of her suit.
“You aren’t dead.”
He made himself not react, even though a ridiculous joy swelled inside him. She was healthy, unharmed. Alive. Those deep, guarded eyes stared up at him.
“Your concern for me is touching.” He continued to scan her.
“You got me out. Why?” There was a rasp in her voice, mixing with the low smoke of it.
“You’re a job.”
Kara flinched.
He told himself he was right in being a bastard. Wordlessly he scanned her torso, noting the fine shivering that rippled on the bare skin of her shoulder where the suit had ripped. Her temperature was dropping.
“Restroom?” she asked then, in that same husky voice.
“In the back.”
She rolled on her side carefully, like an old woman, and pushed herself up. Swung her legs over the side to stand. Then folded as her knees buckled.
Muttering obscenities, Duke lifted her, a hand under her knee, an arm under her shoulders. When her forehead came to rest at his chest, the gesture so fucking trusting, he nearly dropped her just for the hell of it.
He carried her to the small partition at the back of the shuttle, unceremoniously dumped her on her feet, his irritation flaring higher when he saw her grip the sink to keep herself upright.
“Let me know when you’re done,” he gritted through clenched teeth and left before he did something obscene. Like hug her.
* * *
Kara stared at herself in the mirror as she rubbed her arms against the chill. Think, damn it.
Duke had gotten her out. A job, he’d said. For whom?
She needed intel.
The stiffness in her knees was subsiding. She wanted water, fragrant lather to wash her hands, her face. Instead she settled for the cleansing action of lightWash. No waste, amazing results.
She felt fine. Rested. Her hormones singing from wanting that jerk again. Something about that rock solid physique always made her juices run. Still handsome as hell with those cool gray eyes and lean rugged face. His hair was shorter now. His nose looked like it had been broken and not set properly. She’d felt the muscles in his arms bulging when he’d lifted her as if she weighed nothing. Anticipation fluttered through her belly, a ridiculous feminine thrill knowing he could easily take her. If he wanted to.
“Done yet?”
Resentment flared at that mild cool voice. He refused to listen. All those times when she’d tried to reach him, he’d dismissed her, choosing to hate her with bitter disinterest. Yes, she’d failed. Yes, she’d betrayed him. She’d had no training to resist interrogation. If he was disgusted with her for that…
“I’m coming in within two seconds.”
Fucking arrogant prick.
She stepped closer to the partition, gritted her teeth in anticipation. Timed it. He was halfway in when she shoved a handful of cleaning solution in his face, following it by a kick to the knee and another kick to his groin. He roared, literally roared, and grabbed for her arms. An elbow connected with his gut, a hand cracked sharply against his jaw. Then she was on the floor, rolling, gripping, cussing, his weight crushing her, his hands like gravTraps around her wrists. His cock, already hard, pressed against her belly.
Kara fought for oxygen as she stilled her body. Fighting against his grip was useless. “You always get hard when hit in the nuts?” She struggled to breathe with his weight on top of her. Hopefully he wouldn’t shatter the vials under her armpits.
“You missed, sweetheart.” Duke stared down at her, his eyes hot. “You always did have trouble finding it.”
A crazy part of her was excited at the light of conquest in his gaze.
“Can you blame me?” She breathed fast, blood and heat pumping through her. “It was tiny.”
She could tell he fought for control as he rubbed his cheek against hers, less in affection and more to get the cleanser off. His skin rasped against hers, his scent clean and male, striking straight into her belly. She took a small insane pleasure in it as she inhaled.
“If you ask nicely, I’ll refresh your memory.” His voice was ragged. The memory in question flashed in her mind. His weight pressed down, the heat of him delicious.
“Like hell.” A part of her, the small insane part, felt giddy at that helpless feeling of being trapped under him.
He leaned closer to her face, his breath tickling her cheek, the motion forcing him lower against her center. It made her cunt tingle.
What the hell was wrong with her?
“You know,” he rolled his hips forward in a slow motion and she barely bit back a moan, “I remember what you’re like when you’re excited.”
Wordlessly, she stared up at him.
“Your neck was flushed. Your lips were red. And…” Duke leaned in, gave a slow friendly lick at the vein beating right under her jaw, “… I could see your pulse -- right here -- when you were fucking me.” He lifted his head, met her eyes.
Kara pasted on a smirk she hoped looked real. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Sweetheart.” He curled his lip, lust and anger glittering in those gray eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You flatter me instead, and I’ll give you what you want.”
“And you know what I want?”
In answer, he wiggled his brows at her.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” She spat the word back to him. “I don’t do small.”
He rolled his hips against her once more. “Now my feelings are hurt. You’ll have to work to get me in the mood.”
The huge bulge pressing against her was without a doubt in the mood.
“And I would do this because?”
“That’s right, you would.” He rolled his hips again, the burst of pleasure sending sparks along her skin. “When you were out --” he smiled again, a feral curling of his lips she didn’t like one bit, “-- I had to give you blood.” He leaned in again, his lips inches from hers. “As your body absorbs my DNA it will need to be periodically recharged. Body fluids. Blood or semen.” His lips were millimeters from hers now. “I pumped enough blood into you.” She had an insane urge to kiss him. “Which leaves the other. If you ask nicely.”
“Riiight.” She was going to ask him nicely to go straight to hell.
“You’ll beg for it.”
“Fuck off.” This was not happening.
Duke only smiled. “I’ll make you beg for it.”
“No!” She spat it through gritted teeth, struggled wildly. Managed to buck him, only to feel him land hard on top of her. Shit, the vials. She let him grip both her wrists, cussed him, screamed as she felt herself lifted and hauled back to the recliner. She kept cussing as he held her down, until he leaned in, and shut her up -- by claiming her mouth.
The restraints clicked in the silence.
Chapter Two
Rough, punishing, his mouth was on her.
Kara could fight it, fight the warmth rising in her -- until Duke gentled, cruising his lips over hers, softly, delicately. She moaned, sliding into the heat of it, reaching up to bring his mouth closer… felt that her hand was stuck. Trapped.
She was cuffed to the damn recliner, the supple metal of gravTraps encircling her arms and torso, one clasping her elbows to her sides, another one anchoring her lower belly to the chair. A third one held her legs immobile.
She ripped her mouth away.
In answer, he traced her lips with the pad of his thumb. She’d be damned if she was going to give in to the urge to kiss it.
