Moonstruck by Susan Grant Page B

what—abandoned there?” she demanded.
    “Probably offered up for adoption, but few could care for their own kids let alone someone else’s.”
    She turned her chair to face the blackness of space that filled the view window on the opposite wall. “You were left to die.”
    “Aye. Luckily, I was found and taken in by other children. My earliest memories are of the girls who raised me. We belonged to a pack of orphans and runaways, or throwaways, taking shelter in an abandoned building behind a refinery. It was easier to survive in numbers in some ways, harder in others.” Like when there wasn’t enough food to go around, or blankets or sweaters. “I grew, and I survived. And here I am.” Enough talk of the past. It was the future that interested him. He aimed his attention at the reflection of Brit Bandar’s face in the window. “And here you are, when you’re supposed to be off duty.”
    She turned around. “I have more reports to go over.”
    “They can wait. Your shift is long over.”
    “I will remain here, Warleader.”
    In two strides he was at the desk. He bent forward and flattened his hands on the glossy surface. “I pledged to run a safe ship, even if that means making sure command of the bridge isn’t handed over to her captain if she be exhausted. That’s right. With all due respect, Admiral, if you come on duty in less-than-optimum condition thinking you’ll be alert for an eight-hour shift, I’ll make sure Star-Major Yarew sends you back to bed. I’ll carry you there myself if I have to, and we both know how entirely inappropriate that will be.”
    The hunger always simmering between them boiled over, instantly doused as each pulled back from the attraction they weren’t supposed to feel. Finn regretted the joke. The image of her in his arms as he lowered her into bed was slow to fade.
    “Inappropriate indeed, Warleader.” It wasn’t his imagination that her voice sounded huskier, or that she pondered him with the same speculative consideration that Tango had given Rakkelle.
    Finn aimed for a neutral, professional tone. “So what will it be?”
    Her attention shifted to the bridge behind him. It was humming with efficiency. She wasn’t needed. Her routine reports could wait. Yet, she seemed reluctant to leave.
    Of course. He was Drakken. He was the Scourge of the Borderlands. How could one of the Coalition’s greatest commanders leave him in charge of her ship, unattended? Oh, she’d vowed as much to her superiors, aye, but putting it into practice was not as easy as it sounded.
    She didn’t trust him.
    “Permission to speak freely,” he said.
    “Not asking permission hasn’t stopped you so far, Warleader, so why ask now?”
    “To be able to speak freer.”
    She huffed. “I would expect any second of mine to speak freely and, more important, to think freely.”
    “Here it comes, then.” He folded his hands so that he supported his weight with his knuckles. “You don’t like the idea of leaving a Drakken in command on the bridge.”
    When her lips compressed, just slightly, he knew he’d guessed right. “I know the same stories you do, Admiral. I know Horde often killed civilians on purpose. Blame it more on a lack of discipline and guidance from the higher levels and a lack of good example than any government orders. I’m no innocent, but I never killed for sport, Admiral. Nothing about killing ever appealed to me.”
    “But you stole, you hijacked ships, you bribed and kidnapped.” She rattled off the charges against him, and even where many of the crimes occurred.
    His mouth tipped in a crooked smile. “Is your memory that good, or did I alone of the Borderland pirates remain in your thoughts all these years?” As the memory of her had remained in his.
    “So cocky, aren’t you, Warleader? Well, it’s not about you. I have a memory like a steel trap. I don’t forget.” Pain flickered in her eyes before she cast them downward.
    She’d lost friends in battle.