The Huntress by Michelle O'Leary Page B

would you quit talking in circles and tell me what the hell’s the matter with you?”
    Glowering like a raging devil, he sat forward, leaning on the desk. “Fine. You want to play games?” He paused, looking Regan’s way.
    She wished she could shrink down to nothing. Anything to get out from under that glare—she didn’t know how Mea could look so composed.
    “You two! Sit down.”
    Regan promptly moved to comply, tugging Stone along with her. He went, but it took some pulling on her part.
    “You changed his genetic trace, Hunter Brin. His real name’s Seth Terrik and he’s late for his execution for eight murders. Before I incarcerate both your asses, I want to know why.”
    His eyes glittered darkly and Regan began to tremble.
    “Good god, Boss! Where the hell did you get that idea?”
    “Well, let’s see.” He sat back, folding his heavy arms across his chest. “My codes, including my top security code, have been used in both the log and purged records at a time when I know I wasn’t in either one. But you were in the list records just before, calling up both Terrik and Stone. Warren has major fading in his memory, and Ema was conveniently out of commission when you ‘fixed’ him. This little girl was on the same ship as Terrik according to its manifest and then shows up on your ship with this man. You provoked Bragan—no, don’t give me that! I heard the audio, but I know you, girl. You provoked him into attacking you so you could get on his ship and update his genetic traces. You gave that man Baynard Stone’s identity. Why?”
    Mea relaxed her stance, placing hands on hips and shaking her head. “Uncle Mike, you need to cut back on the stims. They’re pushing your imagination into hyperdrive.”
    With a loud boom, he slammed his hands on the desk and surged to his feet. Regan jumped and cringed in her seat, heart thumping madly in her chest.
    “Why?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
    “Bragan was always too easily provoked—he went rogue. Regan got away from Terrik and was rescued by Stone. Warren had a memory glitch, Ema was being an ass, and it sounds to me like you’ve got a security breach with your codes. I suggest changing them.” When he did nothing but snarl at her, she continued in a softer voice, “Don’t you trust me, Uncle Mike?”
    It was like watching a deflating balloon. He collapsed in his chair and glowered up at her beneath his bushy brows. “I used to trust your judgment in men until you married that idiot.”
    Regan felt Stone tense next to her.
    Mea pointed a finger across the desk at her boss. “Don’t give me that. You loved him up until the bitter end.”
    “I did not! I never liked that moron.”
    She leaned forward with hands planted on the desk and Regan heard humor in her sly tone. “Liar. ‘He’s like the son I never had’ was what you said that time you were so drunk and—”
    “All right!” he cut her off with a wave of his hand, shifting in his seat. Darting a look at the two sitting behind Mea, he ran a hand around the back of his neck. Then he sighed and looked up at the woman before him, sinking a little into his chair. “No one knows but me. I could still save your ass. Just tell me why, girl.”
    She rounded the desk and, leaning on one corner, placed a hand lightly on his chest. “Poor Uncle Mike. You work too hard. I’ll tell Bella to let up on you.”
    He settled a hand over hers and looked at her with such a pleading expression that Regan was amazed. He hardly seemed like the same roaring bear she had cringed from a few moments ago.
    “Just give me a good reason, Mea.”
    Regan held her breath as the two of them stared at each other. Several heartbeats later, Mea leaned forward and whispered something in his ear.
    A variety of emotions chased each other across his rugged face. “What? You—” He slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned. “Oh my god.”
    Mea laughed softly and stood, running fingers through his graying hair.