Taming the Wildcat (Sargosian Chronicles) by Bethany J. Barnes Mina Carter Page A

woman.”
    They both turned to look at the unconscious man, both studying the fresh tattoo across his chest. Normally, ink like that was an expression of joy, a celebration…a mark to signify a man had been fortunate enough to find a wife and a permanent symbol of his commitment to her. Roz’s tattoo sprawled across the skin over his heart and extended across most of his broad chest, leaving little of his skin untouched.
    Jei shook his head. Such an elaborate tattoo was usually reserved for the most sacred of the Sargosian marriage forms—the bond marriage. A design that big usually meant a man didn’t intend to take any other wives, and to devote himself solely to his bond-wife.
    It was a huge statement, a huge commitment…
    …especially for a woman who now, was dead.
    * * *
    Saarday sat in the center chair, watching the shuttles and their fighter escorts as the Pendragon trailed them in a leisurely crawl through the system. He sighed, this was their third mission stuck babysitting diplomats and he itched to get out there on patrol.
    "Sir? We have a ship on long-range comms. Not Fleet. They're identifying themselves as a mercenary vessel…the Ninth Twelfth Wildcats."
    He blinked, the small expression the only indication of surprise he gave. The Ninth Twelfth was the unit his son led. Why they were contacting him here, he didn't know. Roz had his personal codes, could contact him at any time. In fact, he’d meant to make that call himself. Find out if his blond-haired son knew anything about a young pilot named Summer King.
    "I'll take it in my office. Route it through. Keep the comms open out here," he ordered, rising from his chair and resisting the urge to leap over the separating barrier, rather than walk around. Something was wrong, he felt it in his blood.
    "Roz, this had better be good." His voice was gruff as he reached his desk and wrenched the console around. But the face on the screen wasn't that of his eldest son.
    "Talk. Now," he ordered, knowing full well he outranked the warrior looking at him with an expression of “oh, crap” and “I do not want to be here” written on his face.
    "Jei here. I'm Roz's second-in-command. We got trouble." The dark-haired warrior grimaced and rubbed a tattooed hand over his stubbled jaw. "Roz has gone loco, and…sorry, Lead, we don't know what to do with him."
    "Loco?" Saarday shook his head. Roz was hot-headed, yes, but not seriously bat-shit. He shook his head, aware of what was going on outside on the bridge. "No, don't explain. I don't have time at the moment. Just get him here and I'll deal with him."
    The look of relief on Jei's face was immediate. "Yes, Lead. ETA, three hours.”

Chapter Ten
     
    Diplomats.
    Summer was sick of ferrying them back and forth between planets. Why didn’t they just keep their fat asses on the planet where the trade conference was being held? It made more sense and didn’t waste valuable Fleet resources in personnel, fuel and wear and tear on the ships. But no…they insisted on returning to their own planet each day.
    Heaving another bored sigh, she checked her squadron’s formation around the shuttle. Nice and tight, just the way she liked them. She had four fighters each side of the shuttle, front and back. Nothing would get past them. Summer flew shotgun to keep mobile and watch for any trouble. One fighter flew point and another brought up the rear. Massive overkill, but the diplomats were paranoid and insisted on a full detail of fighters.
    Shaking her head, she smoothly changed positions so that she dropped back to fly off the rearguard’s port side. If they insisted on doing this same tedious routine each day, they could have at least followed her recommendation on method of transport. The shuttle was fine and dandy but the snail’s pace was killing her, or drive her nuts. They could get out and push faster.
    “Spoiled, pansy-assed diplomats.” Over her headset, she heard snickers and laughter from the men and women