Mondays Child

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WARNING

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New Tortuga: Monday’s Child

This e-Book contains graphic scenes and adult language. Store your e-Books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

Jessica D. Russell


Jessica D. Russell Aspen Mountain Press

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New Tortuga: Monday’s Child New Tortuga: Monday’s Child Copyright © 2007 Jessica D. Russell

This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

Aspen Mountain Press PO Box 473543 Aurora CO 80047-3543 www.AspenMountainPress.com

First published by Aspen Mountain Press, April 2007

This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction fines and/or imprisonment. The e-Book cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this e-Book can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-60168-040-2

Published in the United States of America

Editor: Nikita Gordyn Cover artist: Nikita Gordyn

Jessica D. Russell

Dedication This story is dedicated to Nikita and Kelly. Thank you both for pushing my limits! And as always, to my husband. You are my life. Thank you for believing in me.

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New Tortuga: Monday's Child

In the spaceport city of New Tortuga all things are possible. It’s a crossroads. New lives begin and old ones are lost in this bustling city. Here in a time where retro is the new NEW, resurgence in popularity of an Old Earth nursery rhyme brings us to our first story.

We start with Monday’s Child, so fair of face.

Jessica D. Russell

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Chapter One

He was dead and it was my fault. I stared at the charred stage floor torn between horror and numbness. I preferred the numbness.

Occasionally shudders wracked my body and I'd clutch the woolen

blanket tighter around my body. Questions were asked above my head and all I could think about was Jhon. My beautiful Jhon. I sat alone in the middle of a room full of people. No one but the gossip columnists and holo newscasters paid any attention to me. A thousand voices called questions from behind the cordon, but I couldn't hear them past the roar in my ears. Jhon was dead. They'd taken his body already. I needed to call his life partner but somehow my body wouldn't move. Fog filled my mind and I welcomed it. Another death. Tonight's headlines would say something about my tour's curse. Fatal accidents followed us. I blinked. Me. They followed me. I clenched the bridge of my nose and fought off the tears. My gaze fixated on the spot where Jhon had died. Where I should have died. Would the smell of burned flesh ever leave me? Why did it have to be fire? It had been my choreography. I made the call to switch up the moves. My eyes burned with unshed tears and I knew I had to get out of here before I lost it in front of the universe. The media sweep cameras were trying to hover over the cordon. I shivered. No telling how much of Jhon's death they'd caught on camera. It had been our greatest

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performance in over a year. Guilt gnawed at my stomach. Godless law, I had to get out of here. I shoved the blanket off my shoulders and looked for the easiest way out. "Miss Ianna James?" A sharp-eyed detective in a standard issue green skin suit smiled at me. Almost any other time I would have appreciated the sight of a welldeveloped man, especially one that put all the right ridges and curves in that suit. I smiled a half-hearted smile. Yeah, what a helluva companion I'd be tonight. "Yes, Detective?" I crossed my arms and planted my feet. He'd get a fight if he wanted one. I needed to get to my room and under the influence of a nice sedative. I watched Mickey make his way toward me with the determination of a bulldog. Mickey, my hero and assistant, oh goddess I loved him. That man could make anyone sit up and beg. I smiled at the detective and relaxed my stance. "Ianna, love, we have to go." Mickey swept me up into his arms like we'd been lovers forever, although we'd never made it past platonic. I nuzzled his cheek and smiled. We played it very well. It kept the wolves and fortune hunters at bay. So far anyway. He set me down and gave me a tight hug. The detective cleared his throat and I waited. "More questions?" Mickey's smile fell. He kissed my forehead and sighed. "I'd wanted to get us to bed and away from all of this." He pulled me close and slipped an arm around my shoulders. I closed my eyes and longed for my room like a drug. Another round of questions and I'd fall apart. The detective cleared his throat. "Ianna, he wants your autograph." Mickey's murmur shocked me to stillness. I stared, incredulous. The bastard. Sure enough he held a pen and sheet of, oh how quaint, real honest to goodness Old Earth paper for me to sign. Images of a pen nib sticking out of his jugular flashed in my mind. With shaking hands I jerked the utensils out of his grasp and scribbled a signature glaring my disgust. He had the decency to look uncomfortable.

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I shoved them back at him and turned on my heel. Mickey fell in step with me blocking the waves of media and onlookers as we made our way through the cordon line. He held my arm and I slipped from his grasp. “Miss Ianna, what’s this we hear about a curse?” “How long until we hear the announcement of a wedding, Ianna?” A voice rose above the questions pummeling her from all directions, "Wedding? How about an engagement first?" The crowd broke out in laughter. Dear Sweet Mother of Earth, I needed a break from all this. Wedding. Curse. Gossipmongers and harridans, snakes and liars. My skin crawled and right now I hated them all. A tide of neediness flooded over me, threatening to suck me down into an overwhelmed state. Everyone wanted something. Even Mickey. I jerked my arm out of his hold again. For almost six months I'd considered a break. Maybe a vacation. The crowd shoved forward against the line and I felt the desperate need to escape. I ran. Mickey bellowed after me but I couldn't hear anything over the roar of my heartbeat. Jhon was my friend. No, more than that. He was my family. His boyfriend was my family. Stage hands, fans, and now my own team were dying off one by one. I shoved through the crowd of people, ignoring the hands touching me or trying to hold on to me. With a desperate cry I broke through and raced to my bike outside, thankful there were no hover bike restrictions on this planet. With tears streaming down my cheeks I jumped onto the seat of my angel and gunned the engine. Her deep red paint reflected the lights in the alley. The dark scents of fuel and ozone filled my nostrils. I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar smells comfort me and wipe away the stink of death. I slipped on my ear piece and goggles. She settled to a purr and I was off, as high as the dome would let me. I opened her up and let her fly. We ran the rim of the dome with reckless abandon. Gods above, I loved this bike. The wind ripped the tears from my cheeks leaving icy burns in their wake. Nothing else flew in this dome. She brought me to the very top and I floated there, my sight drawn to the beautiful image of space. I took off my goggles and let go, let the


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horror and the pain tear its way through my soul. Only here did I let my tears fall unheeded. Sobs wracked my body and I pulled into myself, trying to remember, something, anything that could have stopped Jhon’s death. I wish I could remember every bit, but only flashes of stage set up were in my memory. My mind went over the day in a loop. Every detail I could remember came in to a sharp focus. Everything had been normal, had felt normal. We ran through the show a hundred times. Everyone knew their positions. It had been practiced to perfection. After the cameras had been set up for the show, Jhon had asked if he could switch positions in the finale. We'd worked together for so long we could switch positions without a problem. He wanted the flair of lights behind him for his string solo. I’d laughed. Dramatic had always been his flair. I should have stopped him. The pyrotechnics were too dangerous. Too many things could go wrong. Godless law, he’d been thrilled when I agreed. When the last explosion rocked the stage, the crowd had surged to its feet, stomping and screaming. I knew. I knew something had gone wrong. Jhon was behind me and the horrifying smell of burned human flesh sent me to my knees. The smoke cleared and the screaming started. I laid my head against the cool metal of the handles and felt the purring power of my baby. I didn't know who screamed, and the rest of the night was a blur. Had I been there instead, my hair would have caught fire. Because Jhon was several inches taller than me, he took it in the chest. I felt the contented rumble of my bike through my body, it calmed me like nothing else. Jhon loved this bike. I gunned it and considered going back to Mickey. The rapid drop of height usually thrilled me, but I just didn’t have the heart to do more than smile a little. I drifted to skimmer height and made my way toward the rooftop of the resort we’d been holed up in for the past three days. Mickey would understand. I throttled her down and caressed her handles before letting the engine die. We settled to the ground and I slid off, letting my equilibrium stabilize.

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Wobbly from the ride, I made my way to my room and slumped in my message center chair. I hoped Erik hadn’t been watching. The weight of Jhon’s death rested like a rock in my gut. I wanted to crawl under a rock and let everyone do whatever it is that they did. Gods above, I didn’t want this responsibility. Coward. That voice in the back of my head really hated me. So what if I really felt that way. With a face that ached from windburn and a stuffy nose from crying, I figured I looked like hell. For a moment I considered getting made up before I called Erik but I pushed the comm. button. A quick verification of intergalactic certification had me through to Erik’s personal line. Coward I may be, but I owed it to Jhon to face Erik’s rage. I settled down for a long wait.


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Chapter Two

The soft chimes of an accepted image call came through. I stared at the screen, desperate and terrified. How would I tell him? The image came through. Erik’s exhausted and tear stained face told me everything. He already knew. Godless law, he’d watched the show. I heard his soft keen of pain and tears threatened to choke me. Was it possible to hurt this much without dying? Jhon and Erik were my only family. He rubbed his eyes with shaky hands. His disheveled hair and swollen blue eyes told me far more than anything else could have. Erik was meticulous about his appearance. Always. “Erik” He held up a hand and shook his head refusing to meet my eyes. His chin quivered and I felt my heart break in pain for him. Erik took a deep breath and looked up into my eyes, determined. He cleared his throat. “I watched” His voice broke and he swallowed hard. “I watched it, Ianna.” His chin shook and tears welled up in his eyes. “It was his idea to move in front of the lights, wasn’t it?” Erik smiled through his tears. I nodded my head, trying to keep from falling apart. With a sniff he nodded, carefully taking a controlled breath. “Did you switch up the routine?”

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I blinked. He was making my confession easier. “Yes and I’m sorry, Erik. You’ll never know how very sorry I am. It was my fault.” I wiped the traitorous tears out of the corners of my eyes. He laughed, bitter, dark. I flinched. “How can it be your fault, sweets, if the accident had been meant for you?” My blood chilled. “What?” Erik sniffed. His eyes narrowed. "Are you alone?" I nodded. “Listen to me, Ianna. Jhon and I were going to approach you about it after” His voice broke. “Anyway, might as well tell you now. We think…thought…I think someone is trying to sabotage the show.” His ice blue eyes pierced my soul. “Who would have died had my Jhon not tried to shake things up?” Erik smiled. He was crazy, he had to be. “This, sweets, is not your fault.” His expression hardened to the analytic power player I knew he could be. “When I find out who’s behind this…” My mind whirled. I felt sick. There couldn’t be a conspiracy. It had been a fluke, my fault for letting someone else take my spot. “Get out of there, Ianna. Before it’s too late. Don't trust anyone.” Erik signed off. I stared at the empty screen in numb awareness. The tears fell unheeded. I pulled my legs up and cried against the soft arm of the chair. Sometime later the door swished open. "Ianna, where the hell have you been?" Mickey's voice sounded furious. I couldn't work up energy past a soft grunt. My tears had long since stopped. I blinked to moisten the burning dryness and looked toward him. "Oh Ianna." He ran a hand through his dark hair. Mickey was lovely, like the rest of the world around me, a perfect image of the perfect life. I almost laughed. His soft brown eyes showed their concern. He maintained his age well. Gods above knew I needed to rejuv soon. I looked back to the vid screen. Blank, like my heart. Damn I needed a vacation.


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He pulled me into the circle of his arms, resting my head against his neck. "We almost lost you tonight." His voice shook. "It should have been me, Mick." I gave him a hug and gently pushed him away. He held for a moment more then released me. "Don't say things like that, Ianna." He rose from the arm of the chair and held out his hands. I let him help me to bed, thankful he was here with me. "We should talk." Pain welled up in my heart. "I'd rather sleep, Mickey, please." I bit back a sob. "We'll talk when I can think." "Here you go." He set a tranq in my hand and gave me a small smile. "I called Erik." I popped the pill with a grimace and a feeling of relief. Soon I'd stop thinking about Jhon and be able to sleep. His smile froze. "What did he say?" "What could he say, Mickey. It's my fault." I didn't want to worry Mickey with Erik's suspicions. The tour was already suffering under the superstition of a curse. "Don't worry about that now, Ianna." He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair out of my eyes. "Let me look out for you, tonight at least." I sighed. "You are too good to me." "I am, as always, your friend." He smiled. "You're a damn good assistant too." He laughed and turned off the lamp. "Neither one of us wanted a real relationship, Ianna. I'm just thankful you trust me. We have a very busy day tomorrow and you need your sleep." The tranq worked quickly, making my speech slur. "What would I do without you?" He chuckled. "Sometimes I wonder kid. I'm off to bed." A rustle of fabric and an opening door were my last memories before sleep claimed me.

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Chapter Three

Trust. That's the bitch of it, isn't it? Hundreds of people relied on me to get us through to the end of the tour. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, waiting for the irritating grogginess the tranqs gave me to leave my system. Some of my crew popped stimulants in the mornings, but I hated the edginess. What if Erik was right? Was our show a target? Fifteen incidents. All of them resulted in injuries and three fatalities within one standard year. The tour had another year to go in this sector. Would I risk anyone else for my pride? I've never ended a tour early. We'd been so proud of that, Jhon and I. I couldn't do this without him, didn't want to. Memories flashed through my mind. Jhon and I skiing on some god-forsaken ice world. Writing songs together on the ship. Playing music with the band as a stress relief. Dancing across the stage in an impromptu frolic. The tranqs muted my emotions to the point a pleasant numbness. Sometime later I'd cry. I scrubbed my face with my hands. It was definitely time to be up and around. I looked at the funky timepiece on my bedside. Groaning, I rolled out of bed and barely kept my balance. I should have been on stage by now for practice. I scrambled out of my uncomfortable performance clothes and stepped in the quick steam stall. I groaned my pleasure at the heat loosening the knots in my shoulders and back.


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A refreshing rinse off and I was ready to go. I slipped on some comfortable gear and headed out my door to the patio. My hover bike stood there, dew formed on her sweet exterior. The deep red of her paint job reflected the false sunrise of the dome. I slipped on my full riding gear this time. My face still burned from last night's joy ride. I revved her engine and was off. In a short time I arrived at the set with little fanfare. I slipped my bike into a removed alcove and made my way in through the rear door and nodded my hello to the hired security muscle. A flicker of a smile on his stoic face was my only response. Voices carried well on the stage. The theater acoustics were fantastic here. I heard my drummer's voice first. "Look, I know none of this is her fault. I'm just saying it's cursed, this whole tour is cursed." "Vince, that's ridiculous." "It's not ridiculous. You all know how many accidents we've had. Last night was meant for her," Vince's voice shrilled. Someone murmured to him and his voice steadied. "I just don’t know what we'll do without him." His voice caught. I stood in the wings. Listening. Vince came from a very superstitious culture, but he'd left most of it behind. If he jumped at shadows, there was a pattern. A pattern that Jhon, Erik and Vince had all seen. For the first time in years I made a decision without Jhon's guidance. We'd have to stop the show. I took a deep breath and stepped from the shadows. Immediately the crowd dispersed with guilty head drops. I noticed immediately that everyone had their backs to the area of the stage where Jhon died. The dark char marks stood out against the pale wood. "No. Stay." I stood there, my arms crossed and feeling like I was letting everyone down. "Vince is right. There have been a lot of things going wrong." I nodded to him, pulling everyone's attention back from Jhon's spot. His dark green eyes looked tortured. "I mean that, Vince." I turned to the rest of the group. "That doesn't mean I believe it's a curse, but I'm not losing" I cleared my throat over the sudden lump. "Not losing anyone else."

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My band collectively moved toward me, but I held my hands out in a gesture to keep them from coming too close. If they touched me I'd fall apart. The numbness was fading fast. "I'm canceling the tour." Cries of shock met my words. I pushed through. "That's it, guys. You'll get paid every penny we owe you, but I'm not doing it anymore." I watched the surprise, anger and relief on the faces of those around me. Every beloved face, the collective face of my family. They trusted me and I couldn't handle it. I couldn't protect them. What if Erik and Jhon were right? "Let's get all this stuff packed up ASAP and shipped off planet before a revolt happens. I want no more incidents." The crew nodded and got to work. I looked at my band and dancers. "Guys, I just" My eyes were drawn to the area where Jhon had died. Tears welled up and after the tremors started, I glanced away. "I need some time." They hugged me one by one and started helping the crew. No one talked to me, no one asked questions. I suppose they were all in shock. Relieved maybe, like I was. We'd been strained for a while now. I watched them shift into pack up mode. Rarely did a team come together like this one. I shook my head and wondered why anyone would want to hurt these guys. They were amazing. Mickey's arrival heralded my need to be elsewhere. Call me coward, but I didn't need a stern lecture from him on my obligations. I headed toward the backstage comm. box to make a few changes to our itinerary. "Port Authority." A brisk voice answered the query. "This is Captain Ianna James, I need approval for my shuttle to leave port within a standard day." I prepared for the standard round of questioning that would follow. "Are you taking any food, indigenous life or other organism off-planet?" "No." I always wondered if that included microorganisms. Would I be arrested for taking a bout of flu with me? I leaned my head against the cool smooth wall.


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"Are you aware of any plots to overthrow the Commonwealth of Alian?" His bored drone of a voice made me smile. So that was the name of this place. After a while they become a blur. I answered in the negative and we ended the conversation. He had agreed to arrange for a new time and I notified the government of my intentions to leave. They threw in some hemming and hawing but I knew the bad publicity had shaken them up. All arrangements made and I still had several hours to get my stuff together. Eventful morning. I looked at the stage and the pain of Jhon's death welled up inside, threatening to choke me. Lead feet brought me to my bike. I considered packing my things, but decided to let the hotel forward them instead. With a sigh for the items that would be missing from my packs, I headed toward my ship. Jhon's laughing face from the night before filled my mind's eye. I wondered if I'd ever be able to perform again. With a sigh I wondered if the main shuttle Captain would be okay with cutting his vacation short.

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Chapter Four

"Ianna, this is a bad idea." Mickey leaned against the doorframe his hands stuck deep in his pockets. A deep line of worry settled between his brows. "Yeah, you've said that." I checked the docket on the pallet's exterior. Everything seemed legit. Odd how easy it would be to slip home. "You know things are dangerous right now, especially if you're being targeted." I froze and made sure I spoke in carefully neutral tones. "We don't know if I'm being targeted Mick. Besides a contract is a contract." I wondered if he'd come up with the same theories Erik and Jhon had. Was I the only one who didn't scream conspiracy at every turn? "You took the job without discussing it with anyone." Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to control his irritation. I tried to work up some emotion, but numbness surrounded my entire existence. I needed to get away. "These supplies are very important to a mining colony, Mick. We're close to New Tortuga. I've already told the Captain I was taking the shuttle. Besides," I smiled and gave him a wink, "it's not like I decided on the stop. It was your idea." Mickey sighed and I continued my checkout of the cargo. I verified the inventory and handed it over to Alpha 6's port authority. Our stop had been unexpectedly beneficial. I had a reason to leave the main ship and get away for a while and I could feel like I was doing some good. Haunting the corridors like a ghost was creeping


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everyone out. Another four months with me acting weird and someone would snap. "You don't have to do this anymore." Mickey shook his head. I watched him roll his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "This pays the bills, Mick. We've gone over this." I jerked the cargo cables, tightening them to my hull. "At least take someone with you." I tugged once more and straightened. "Mickey, I need to do this alone. Give me some time to figure shit out. After this drop I plan on going home." "At least promise me you'll rejuv when you get there. You need the pampering." Mickey smiled. His lips brushed my forehead and he walked away. Home. If he only knew. I thought about letting him know my plans. Erik's pained face flashed in my mind. I leaned against the cargo netting and sighed. I separated from the main transport two months into travel. My cargo ship was packed to the gills and ready to drop a load in New Tortuga. My home sweet home, many moons ago. I hadn't been there since I was a teenager. It wasn't that I intended to be dishonest about my trip location, but I just didn't want anyone calling or checking up on me to see how I was doing. "New Tortuga, this is Cargo Ship Bard requesting permission to land." I flipped my newly dyed bright green hair over a shoulder. The stink of chemicals still hung heavy on the braid. I rubbed my eyes for the thousandth time. They burned from the color enhancement. This time I needed a place to lie low. A place no one would know where to look. The busiest port in three galaxies, New Tortuga was a crossroads. All things came and went through her gates. I remembered a much different world from my childhood. Now NT looked like a bounty of business. It barely resembled the turtle it was named for. Five small domes expanded off the main city. Sometimes the stale air in a dome still jerked me awake at night with memories of this place.

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"Bard this is New Tortuga, what is your business today?" The chipper voice of a tower official felt welcoming. Odd how that didn't match with the New Tortuga I'd left. Flashes of fire and smoke flittered through my mind. I cleared my voice. Those memories needed to stay hidden for a while. "New Tortuga, I have a shipment from Alpha 6, mining equipment in transit to the asteroid station." I checked my itinerary. "A Wainwright Corporation is supposed to make the transition." "Bard you have no idea how welcome you've just made yourself. Permission to dock granted." He gave me directions and I made a smooth landing in the receiving dome. They were nothing if not efficient. I opened the cargo door and watched with amazement at the ease in which Wainwright removed my cargo. They must really need this stuff. I signed the inventory release within record time and nodded at the grinning loadmaster. My equipment transferred immediately to his cargo spacer. The larger, heavier design and extra thrust told me he was often headed for areas with a denser gravitational pull. An executive approached and smiled with warmth that belied the severity of her dress. Pale and blonde along with the ice gray eyes, gave me the gut feeling that this lady was dangerous. I tried to hide my unease. "Captain, I'd like to show my appreciation for the quick delivery. We had no one with delivery capability for months." Her voice was soft and cultured with the sweet accent of New Tortuga's Upper Crust. She could charm anyone. I covered my irritation with a smile. Next to this woman it would be easy to lose confidence. "That's what they told me when I got the call." I watched the last of the equipment being loaded up. The loadmaster waved and I returned the gesture with a smile and a nod. "I'd like to express my thanks to you by giving you a month's vacation at the New Tortuga resort, everything at my expense, of course." I blinked. "I couldn't possibly" "Please." She held up a long slim finger. I fell silent. "A lot of people were dying. My people."

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New Tortuga: Monday’s Child "Your people?" I had to ask. "I'm Rebecca Wainwright." Rebecca Wainwright, the owner, I guessed, of Wainwright Industries. If so, she

wasn't telling and honestly, I didn't really care past my delivery. Running cargo kept me humble and I appreciated the isolation. "I hope this helps, Ms. Wainwright." I didn't know what else to say. Mining was a difficult job and always had been. I thought of Jhon. Losing people hurt regardless. "Please take my offer, Captain. I am truly grateful." I found myself agreeing. Why, I had no idea. Maybe I'd get that rejuv I'd planned. I could afford it. Especially after this haul. Music made money, but intergalactic travel was hard on the budget. Cargo hauling got me credits in the off season. My luggage was sent ahead and I considered my options. I could go to the resort and relax the month away. Heading home was an option, but since I'd already said yes that would be rude. Or I could check out the sites first. I slipped on my long jacket and brimmed hat. With a sigh, I grabbed my overnight bag from my footlocker. What would home look like? Lowtown, here I come. Time to pick up some old habits. If I just let my feet walk, would they remember how to get there?

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Chapter Five

The dark streets of New Tortuga's lowtown would drive any sane woman behind the safety of locked doors. Too bad I've never really considered myself sane. As I pulled out a cigarillo, I growled at the noise level assaulting my sensitive ears. The landing dock hadn't been this bad. Down in lowtown the shrieks of incoming cargo skimmers and shuttle offloaders blended in with the hustle and bustle of the blue collar men trying to make a credit or two. The deadly business of smuggling kept its cool, maintaining an appearance of calm, at least on the outside. I knew what was what. It may look busier than it had before, but it was still the same. I stepped into the shadow of an alley doorway and tucked the brim of my Old Earth cowboy hat over my eyes. With steady hands I lit my cigarillo and inhaled the sweet scent of Alpha 6's delicious tobacco reserves. They cost a pretty coin, but damn, they were worth it. I inhaled the smoke, letting the burn tickle the back of my throat. We never smoked on ship and I'd craved the cigarillos from the moment I'd touched them at the Traders Emporium. I hated lowtown's stink. Greasy, slimy, all the things I left behind. The soft flow of my jacket swirled around my calves, sliding against my boots in soft swishes. What the hell was I doing here anyway? There was nothing beautiful or recognizable about the place I grew up. Everything I'd known died in that fire decades ago. I should just head up to the resort and call it good.


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So why was I looking around for a place to stay? Pampering and rejuv sounded like heaven. I was officially insane. A group of kids ran toward me and I chuckled. When one brushed against me I grabbed his scruff. "You know," I chewed on the end of my cigarillo, trying not to bite through the delicious stick, "I could kill you for that." The angelic face of innocence smiled at me. Yeah, right. 'Ol Satan was an angel too, so the old tales say. "Miss, I don't wanna die, please, what did I do?" Crocodile tears in big brown eyes, you have got to be kidding me. With a quick twist, I turned him around and pulled my identacard and pass from his back pocket with a smile. In a moment I had a rabid kid in my hands. He came close to squirming out of the hold I had on his collar. I pulled him very close, making sure he could see my eyes. "I need a guide and they tell me you're the best." I had no idea who this kid was. He stopped struggling instantly, his eyes narrowed to slits. On him it looked ridiculous, but hey, who was I to tell him so. "Who told you?" His voice sounded a little nervous. Tough kid, I almost liked him. "One of them." I jerked my head toward the area the kids had disappeared. He crossed his little malnourished arms and I wanted to rage. How could the same system that screwed up my life still fail the kids here? Politicians, I never had much use for them. Empty promises no matter what universe you traipsed into. "What if I am?" He raised his little chin, his brown eyes glowing behind the tight slits of his lids. I wondered if his face would ache later from all the squinting. "Well, I need a place to stay; room and board, in a place where I can keep to myself without being bothered." I growled low in my throat and watched the kid's eyes widen. "By anyone." "You want work?" His face took on a sly calculation that I remembered from my own childhood. He wondered how much he could get from the stranger. His lower lip puffed out in self-importance.

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"Yeah, lowtown honest." I hoped the slang still applied to this area of New Tortuga. The Upper crusts called it the heights. Lowtown folk called it the lowest height. It had been lowtown since I was born. "Steady work?" I could watch the gears turn in his head. He'd find me a place to lay low for a while. "Yeah, steady." I let him go, trusting in his greed to get me what I needed. Of course I could be wrong and he was a Death Spinner, or whatever name the gang called themselves nowadays. If that was the case, I'd be dead by morning anyway. "Follow me." In a moment he was running through the streets, leading the way to something he’d called Haven's Cross. I felt the burn on the back of my neck of a media sweep camera. With a grimace I kept the brim of my hat close to my face. It wouldn't pay to get caught. The last thing I needed was publicity. A woman screamed and the sweep moved toward the commotion. Lowtown had its advantages. Godless law, I never thought I'd be back here.


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Chapter Six

"Drake?" A gruff voice called to the kid from the alley. He'd led me on a pretty straightforward route. I remembered most of this from when I was a kid running the same streets. At least the layout stayed the same. Another shriek from a carrier exploded through my head. How did these people deal with it? With a groan at the amount of crap I'd brought, I shifted my bag, making sure to keep it under my arm and away from prying fingers. The kid, Drake, gave me a sign to hold tight. I leaned against the smooth wall of the iron gray building at the corner. Utilitarian design, much like most of lowtown. I remembered when the upper crusts decided to rebuild as part of a "tourist enhancement" project. All the buildings, the ones that had stood for centuries, wiped away in a few months' time. Some residents never survived the loss. And then came the fires. I inhaled a slow drag off my cigarillo. The heavy tickle in the back of my throat let me know I'd better lay off. It had been years since I smoked, if I wanted to pick up the habit again I'd rather do it without the hoarse cough. I put the stick out against the wall and crumbled the paper and tobacco through my gloved fingers. Why pick up the habit again? But then again, why not? It's not like I needed to worry about my voice. I didn't want to sing anymore. A door next to me opened and I could hear the sweet sounds of melancholy strumming drift to my music-starved and now ringing ears. I glanced toward the doorway Drake had seemingly disappeared into. I didn't really feel like waiting much

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longer. Besides, this fargin bag was heavy. It had been forever since I'd done this much hauling. I was getting soft in my old age. With a shrug of my tired shoulder, I pushed the bag into a comfortable position and headed toward the sweet music. Above the door the sign 'Haven' was the only marker. I paused at the door. With an irritated huff at the nervous tension roiling in my belly, I placed my hand on the door. It slid open, quiet and smooth. I walked in , worried that everyone would be staring at me. No one noticed. I almost laughed at my penchant for drama. For years now I'd had the attention of the universe, yet here everyone ignored my arrival. Typical. Hell's fire, no one even noticed the door open. I let it slide shut behind me and sighed with relief at the lack of white noise. All eyes were fixated on a smoky corner of the room. I squinted, my eyes adjusted slowly with the color enhancement I'd had done, and tried to make out the occupants of the corner. With a sigh at my inability to focus, I headed toward a table as far from the music as I could get, my back to the far wall. With another weary sigh, I dropped my hat on the table and settled my bag beneath my legs, careful to leave my feet free just in case something uncomfortable went down. I may have been living the high life for a while, but I never forgot where I came from. My half smile was probably a grim one. The first notes of a soft croon caught my attention. Her sorrowful words of love and loss resonated deep in my heart, reminding me of my losses, my pain. Damn, she was good. I settled back and gave the barmaid my order. Her once over amused me. I know what she saw, slim build, slightly attractive woman, soft green hair braided tight, disheveled from the hat, matching eye color. Drifter, ne'er to well. In a moment she dismissed me, just like I'd hoped. I always did my research before heading to a new area. The locals were in a phase of matching hair and eye colors. It seemed ridiculous to me, but it's the little things that distinguished one culture from another. And right now, I didn't need too much attention. I rubbed my gritty eyes and inhaled the rich scents of good food and great beer. Not bad at all.


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The sweet voice ended her song and moved on to something more popular and grating. I dismissed it with a grimace and focused instead on the instruments behind the music. There was something eerily familiar about the twang of the guitar. Every strum reminded me of something, something I'd forgotten which had a memory flickering dimly in the far reaches of my mind. A ruckus broke out next to me and I tried not to yell at them to shut the hell up. The music tickled the memory, something about the melody was important. "You know, if you'd like to hear the music, perhaps a closer table would suit you." A shadow squat next to me in the dim light, his dark voice almost hypnotic. He touched my arm. I jerked away and felt like an idiot. He didn't scare me, no not at all. Right. He pulled his hand away with a mumbled apology. I tried not to focus on his face, his silhouette was impressive enough. I seemed to remember something about not encouraging with eye contact. "I'm fine, thank you." My voice barely stuttered. I'm sure that husky tone was from the earlier smoking. No voice should have that kind of sexy ring. Ever. I chuckled. "If you're sure…" His voice left an open invitation and I kept my sights on the band. "Thank you for the offer." My smile should have been warmer, but I had the feeling he was watching me very closely. I shifted, irritated with myself for looking uncomfortable in front of him. Ignoring him was difficult since the alluring scent of sandalwood and testosterone mingled, reminding me that no matter what had happened recently, I was a woman first. Thankfully the wailing of the current crap ended and I could focus on the guitar player. I strained forward, ignoring everything around me but the first few notes of the next song. Soft and mournful it reminded me of something from my childhood here. A good memory for once. Damn, I needed to hear more. I arched my neck to see over the removal of the scufflers and felt my new companion's amusement. In true bitchy fashion, I ignored him. The heat of his body next to mine was dangerously enticing. I gave up trying to remember how long it had

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been since the last time I'd gotten laid and just settled with forever ago. Why the hell didn't he move on? He settled his back against the wall, uncomfortably close. The strumming picked up a beat from the rest of the band and a stool was placed beneath the center lights. I smiled when the diva stepped from the stage. She watched the lights with longing before leaving the performance circle. Was I ever like that? A bent form strumming the sweet notes of sorrow moved to the stool. His shuffling feet brought him to the edge and he settled himself down without missing a beat. I couldn't see much for the shadows on his face and the smoke surrounding him, but the way he concentrated, his body language let me know I was about to remember far more than I'd ever hoped. The music increased its depth, the intricate notes showing me how very little I actually knew about creating music. I'd only learned how to sing it. This man was making it dance. A soft humming came from the throat of the performer and the deep resonance shocked me. It couldn't be. My heart stopped for a moment "New Tortuga, my home sweet home." A whistle echoed from behind the bar. The storyteller. "A more bitter mistress I've never had." "I have, storyteller, she's right here!" The yell came from somewhere close to me. I laughed when his companion elbowed him in the stomach. "The 'verse lives and dies on these streets." A couple of patrons whooped. "This is a crossroads." His voice hummed, giving me chills at the depth of his emotion. "Sometimes her children leave her, free of her pain." "You tell it, man!" A slurring drunk from the bar threw up his hand and laughed. My barmaid shoved him in the back and he chuckled. The notes became dark, heavy. My heart raced and I felt my breathing change. "They always come back, her children. Some as devils." The crowd murmured quietly.


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Godless law, he was great. "Some our angels." "What story will you tell tonight, Storyteller?" The guy leaning against the wall next to me boomed across the room. The storyteller smiled and opened his eyes, his blind eyes piercing my soul. I gasped. Biggs, hell's fire. "Every story begins and ends here, Sian, you of all people know this." Sian's dark chuckle was his only response. I wanted to ask a million questions. All these years I thought he'd died the night I left. My stomach dropped. Old man Biggs was still alive. I owed him my life. Damn. I ignored the tears filling my eyes. All those years. I kept my head, barely. Tried to remind myself that the way I left wasn't my fault. When had he gone blind? Questions raced around my mind in a confused jumble. Should I approach him? Would he even remember me? My stomach flipped in fear. Hell's teeth, did he know who I was? Biggs told a few stories and the crowd felt every nuance of pain and happiness his music weaved. I was enraptured. Bittersweet memories of childhood enveloped me. As a kid, I’d sneak into the rafters of the old barfront building so I could hear his amazing stories of far off places. Adventures I wanted to experience and eventually followed. Places I would eventually see with my own eyes and heart. Intricate melody weaved behind his words, touching my heart and reminding me of the first few years I'd started traveling. The wonder, the beauty. Over the years I allowed myself to become jaded and lost the passion in my every day life. Sorrowful notes drifted from the latest story and I felt my eyes well up with tears. Jhon would have loved Biggs. Godless law, I missed his laughing face, his quiet strength, my brother against the universe. We'd taken the music world by storm. Sian moved from the wall, making his way through the room. I took a deep breath and watched him mingle. He brought smiles and nods from everyone he spoke with. They all seemed to know him. I nursed my drink, and tried to fathom his role in the

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Haven. Friendly yet removed, sexy yet demure. I loved his body language. Sian moved with a reserved strength I appreciated in my dancers. All power and fluid muscle control. He had a talent, I noticed, for keeping part of his face in shadow. The heat was getting to me. I removed my gloves and jacket, laying them across my lap. I used my hat to fan my face. Patrons were in different states of undress, all except Sian. He still wore long sleeves and gloves.

I tugged at the damp blouse that stuck to

my chest. He had to be insane. His mystery teased me. The night was a busy one, from all appearances. A lot of folks came and went, some easily, some with force. After the diva returned for an encore sultry performance, the kid, Drake, slipped in. I sipped my lager and watched a message exchange with Sian. Something passed in their brief chat and then their attention focused on me. I shifted under Sian's burning gaze. Damn, his stare was intimidating. Drake took off and I admired the explosive energy of the young. With another sip for strength, I waited for Sian. Nervousness was something I was used to. I could wait this out, no problem. So why did I feel like I needed to run, fast? He dropped onto the chair next to me, the joints creaking under his weight. I watched with wry amusement while he shifted position, putting the right side of his face in shadow again. Call me perverse, but I need to know. I reached out and touched his rough chin with my fingertips. His face could have been carved from stone it was so still. With the lightest pressure I turned his head and watched the shadows and light play off the roughened crevices of scar tissue. My lips opened on a soft sigh. Ahh. No wonder. I touched his cheek and felt the hard ridges of poorly healed flesh under my fingertips. Handsome he would have been called before. I still found him incredible, the scars adding to the character of his face. Too many people in my business spent their credit cache on younger, thinner, more perfect images until everyone looked the same. "Finished?" His cold voice snapped me from my thoughts.


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I matched his glare with a haughty one of my own. My thumb brushed the soft healthy skin under his eye ridge. He blinked and I smiled. Didn't expect that, did you? I brushed my knuckles against his cheek and settled my hands in my lap, waiting. I watched the expressions cross his facesome of them very close to scary. I was amazed. He controlled his embarrassment very well. Maybe I was a cold bitch, but based on the age of his scars, he should've dealt with it already. I was too tired to play games and too old to pretend I didn't see anything out of some ridiculous sense of politeness. According to Jhon I was charmingly rude. A fact that Mickey bemoaned over constantly. He cleared his throat, but kept his face in the light. I couldn't help a small smile. "Drake tells me you need a place to stay. He also says you want to be left alone." His dark eyes roamed my face. "We have the space but you have to work for it." A slight curve of his sensual lips caught my attention. His words sounded ominous, intimidating. There was that word again. I was really starting to not like this guy. Intimidating made me want to both attack and run. He touched my cheek, quicker than my instincts could respond. I felt my eyes widen in surprise. My body became tense and I tried to control my response. After all, wasn't I the one to start this? So why did I feel like bolting? Thick calloused fingertips followed the line of my cheekbone. I bit back a moan at the sweet caress. I'd almost forgotten what spontaneous human interaction felt like. No stranger ever touched me. It was a rule I had. So why wasn't I doing anything about it? His dark smile made me shiver. His leg touched mine and I jumped like I'd been burned. "What kind of work?" I cleared my throat and tried to glare, but his thumb brushed the edge of my temple. It made it hard to be intimidating when I wanted to curl up in his caress. Damn, it had been a long time since I'd let anyone close enough to touch me. My lips thinned despite my best efforts to remain expressionless. I guess my face was just too honest. "Kitchen duty." He cupped my cheek and grinned like a schoolboy. The incredible tension disappeared in an almost audible pop. He got me. A soft pat on my cheek and

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he leaned back in his chair, relaxed, nonchalant. Bastard. I felt like a train wreck from one little touch. I grinned, feeling the tight lines of my cheeks, knowing that it probably looked as fake as I felt. I closed my eyes and wondered at my sanity. Should I stay here or should I head to the resort? Would I want to take the chance someone would recognize me when my hair dye was stripped? Could I handle being in the public eye again so soon?


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Chapter Seven

Something must have shown on my face. Suddenly all business, Sian nodded his head and patted my shoulder. "I'll leave you to think about it. I have work to do." With relief I gulped my drink, thankful for the respite. I'm sure everyone was wondering where I was. With a twinge of guilt, I thought about leaving Mickey with no clue as to my whereabouts. He would have faith in me until the end of his life, all the while fielding my calls and balancing the everyday mundane things he always did. Mickey was my own angel. It was that reason that I couldn't go back. Not yet. I didn't know what I was going to do, but if someone wanted to target the tour, the best thing was to drop it. I'd done that. Now it could be put behind all of us. I thought of Erik and took a drink of my beer. Some of us would put it all behind. I finished the last of my beer and stared at the bottom of the dark glass. The barmaid slipped another lager on the table and held out her hand for my mug. I smiled my thanks and she smiled back. I watched her move around effortlessly while she made her way through my corner, taking orders and flirting with the dwindling crowd. Long brown hair with blue stripes looked very nice on her. I didn't know how late it was, but I was sure closing time was around the corner. Biggs played a soft twinkle of background music and my tension eased. His music soothed the ache in my soul.

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A broken scream from the kitchen drew my attention. Sian slipped to the back, his shoulders set in obvious tension. Sudden interest from the guys at the closest table raised the hairs on the back of my neck. When I saw a quick glance toward the bag beneath my chair I remembered where I was. Hell's fire, girl, did you lose your sense? I sat back down with my hand raised. The barmaid caught my eye and nodded. I waited and watched. The sounds of a short squabble and some breaking dishes kept the drunken patrons amused. My section's barmaid started closing up shop, shoving the moaning customers out the door with a fake sympathy only the servers of the drunken could create. She was skilled, I'd give her that. She left me alone, so I figured I'd wait and talk with the boss. Biggs strummed his guitar before placing it reverently in the worn case. I took a sip. "I've had it with this grungy, god forsaken place!" I laughed at the squeaky voice. Not feminine, masculine. It sounded like a boy in the throes of puberty. A freckle-faced redhead, barely legal, stormed across the room. He jerked the apron off and threw it in a wad on the floor. His awkward gait let me know he was in the uncomfortable stages of growth spurt. Poor kid. He stormed out the front door in a huff. I met Sian's intense expression with one showing my amusement. He leaned against the door with arms folded. A deep sigh and shake of his head was the only remark to the boy's dramatic exit. I smiled. "Still interested?" He raised an eyebrow. I laughed. "When do I start?" "How 'bout now?" Somehow I knew he'd say that. "Rose, will you take her to the spare room?" The striped brunette smiled. The name suited her. Her pretty smile seemed colder, however, than before. How quickly I forget how difficult it is to get in down here. I'd been raised on these streets, but I'd changed. No one saw the lowtown brat I'd been. With a sigh, I followed

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her to what would be my new home for a little while. How long would I be here? I looked toward the corner where Biggs had sat, the stool still sitting in the shadowed corner. As long as it takes for a curse to forget about me.

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Chapter Eight

"No Mickey I'm fine." I rolled my eyes and sat on the edge of the beaten down bed. With a soft moan I pulled my boots off, setting them under my bed in a lazy motion that had me chuckling. "Ianna, I don't think this is the way to go. I mean, if you'll forgive me" "There's nothing to forgive." A swift tap to the ear piece cleared some of the obnoxious static. All the ship traffic overhead made signal strength almost nonexistent. "As you wish." His disproval dripped off his tones. "Either way, I'm not sure falling off the map is the best way to deal with Jhon's death." I flinched. The tight muscles of my neck screamed for a hot bath and a day of pampering at the spa. I dropped my head forward and undid my braid. Godless law, I was tired. "I'm not falling off the map, or trying to draw attention to myself. It was your idea for me to come back here." His growl made me smile. I could imagine the dropped jaw and finely arched eyebrows. I missed him. "I said home! Not some" Instantly irritated I growled low. "Watch yourself, Mick." "Now, Ianna, I meant you're more accustomed to a different lifestyle." "I'm staying Mickey. The resort stay was a gift for delivery." I squeezed my eyes shut against the guilt of lying to Mick. For whatever reason I didn't want anyone to


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know where I was. Let him think I was living it up at a resort. He'd be less likely to worry then. "Take care of yourself, kid. I'll hold down the fort over here." His voice sounded irritable. I signed off with a sigh of relief. Any further communication would have to take place at the ship. I couldn't handle another broken conversation. Every muscle ached. Performances did their part to keep me fit but nothing compared to a really long day at the sinks and stove. Muscles I never knew existed made themselves known in steady aches. I rarely had any type of corrective surgery, well, since I'd made it big, anyway. I touched my cheeks, pushing against the bone with the same reverence I always felt. The lowtown fire had caught me in her clutches. Burns had covered so much of my face and shoulders I wouldn't have been recognizable. The fire's damage had been horrifying and with no room at the quick heal facilities, most of lowtown had been left to the deal with it on the streets. I stared at the woven cloth covering the ceiling, wondering what the hell brought these melancholy thoughts on. Sian. I pulled my weary body up and flopped down, stomach first on the length of the bed. With a sigh of frustration I bunched the pillow up under my head, staring at the door. Three days I'd worked my tail off. A quarter of my income went to Drake to keep him at my beck and call. He never shied away from my questions. Sian had been injured in some mining colony war. His burns had been left as a mark of honor rather than a lack of medical care, but I wondered who'd decided it was a mark of honor. His shyness was sweet. I remembered well the disgust my scars had caused. He'd saved the lives of several people in his unit. The doors to Haven opened sometime before the kid was born so he couldn't tell me much about that. Drake did say, however, that Sian had been asking about me. Hell's teeth, I felt like an adolescent. I'd watched him for three days. Kind, considerate, removed, cold. An apparent war hero, yet shy about the very wounds that made him revered. He moved with an agility

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I could only admire in a man his size. I put an arm over my eyes and sighed. "Face it, he's a challenge." I loved a challenge usually, but worry knotted my stomach. Biggs had started listening intently when I walked into the room. He followed the sounds of my footsteps, turning blind eyes in my direction everywhere I went. It wouldn't have bothered me had I not had the suspicion that he might know who I was…used to be. The wait staff kept me at a distance and Cook constantly bellowed my incompetence. He reminded me of my old choreographer. No one could draw the body to an extreme like that man. I stretched, groaning. Well, except for Cook, maybe. According to Mickey no one had been hurt since I'd left the team. Maybe that meant the curse was over. I broke out in a sudden cold sweat and moaned softly. The tranqs had run out two days ago and it was hitting me hard. With a shudder I remembered last night. The nightmares and chills had been so bad I'd woken in terror. Jhon's face and the faces of the kids from my old orphanage combined into one fiery blast of pyrotechnics. I woke up screaming and crying. My head exploded in pain and I curled in on myself, trying to minimize any movement. I wanted to scream and beg for a tranq from anyone, everyone. With painful gasps I tried to control the pain, accept it. My legs cramped hard and I whimpered. I'd done it before, many years ago. I could do it again. The shakes came and went now. For the first two days I'd gone through hell. I didn't realize until now how much I'd become dependent on tranqs to get me through the night. Tears ran down my cheeks and I bit my pillow to keep from begging for help. Heavy steps came up the stairs and stopped by my door. I knew it was Sian. Gods above I was sorely tempted to beg him for something to stop the pain. Anything. He moved away and I lost my opportunity. Godless law, tomorrow had to be better. I let the night go on, wishing for sleep, praying I stayed awake and the nightmares didn't touch me.


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A soft knock on the door jerked me out of my fog. Desperately I hoped they were bringing me something to stop the pain. "Come in." I wiped my eyes and pulled the blanket closer to my face. The door creaked open and Rose came in carrying a tray. Light from the hallway spilled across the floor. The glare pained me. She sat in the chair next to my bed and gave me a steady look. "It's none of my business where you came from or why you're here, so don't say anything. I don't want to hear it." She took a piece of bread from the tray and dipped it in a bowl. With a sigh she glared at me. "Sit up. We need to get you fed and you'll feel better." I shook my head and closed my mouth with an audible snap. "What the hell are you talking about?" I growled between clenched teeth. A sudden shudder wracked my body. Rose set the bread down and helped me sit against the headboard. She started telling me about New Tortuga and the fire over thirty years ago. With careful attention she nursed me through the night, giving me a cool cloth for my flushed face and bread with broth to keep my stomach from cramping too hard. She told me about her job and how much she loved working for Sian. I was so exhausted from lack of sleep and pain I let her ramble on, content to float in a haze of good food and the cool cloth felt like heaven. Until this moment food had tasted like dust in my mouth. No flavor, nothing but nourishment. The broth was delicious but the bread was terrible. I choked on it and she smiled. "Now you see why Cook ran that boy off a few days ago." I smiled a tired smile. "You'll be working with food tomorrow, Ianna. Maybe you can make some decent bread." Rose picked up the tray and turned toward the door. With a soft swish of her skirt she turned, creating a curvy silhouette. "You have two choices kid. You can keep pushing yourself every day a little farther or you can go back to your drugs."

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I opened my mouth, angry at her for assuming I did drugs. My pills were prescription, Damn it! "Save it." She shrugged her shoulders. "We've all been there, but ask yourself this question. Do you really want to go through tonight again?" She shut the door behind her and I let my head bang against the wall behind me. What a bitch. I stared at the cooling cloth she'd given me. My hands had wrung it to a tight lump. There's no way in hell I wanted to go through this again. Sleep stole in on me, dragging me into a dreamless few hours.


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Chapter Nine

The weeks have flown by and I hadn't touched music, haven't hummed a note or sang a song under my breath. With the shakes down to a manageable level I moved through the kitchen like I owned the place. Swapping out dishes and plates for the morning dock workers' orders. My former life felt like a dream and I loved every minute of the hard work Cook laid out for me. Sian's dark smiles and easy charm filled my days and flitted through my dreams. I figured it was some kind of torture I'd decided to inflict on myself, but hell, he was incredible. I worked steadily to make fluffy biscuits for tonight's hearty stew and wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. A working ditty popped into my head and I bit my tongue to keep from singing. Cook roared at his assistant, screaming obscenities and slamming pots and pans. At first, his inability to work with anyone for an extended amount of time had me wondering why Sian put up with him. Then I tasted his food. Gods above, his hearty fare could make you cry it was so scrumptious. Except for his bread, that is. The man couldn't make a decent bread to save his life. I popped the next round of biscuits in the oven and prayed for my break to come faster. The heat was getting to me. With a sense of pride I pulled out the perfect golden biscuits from the bottom rung. "You, get out of here! Your sweat is stinking up my kitchen!" Cook's bellow shook the rafters.

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I narrowed my eyes and dumped the biscuits into the basket, daring him to make me move before I was done. Three assistants have come and gone and one thing I noticed. You gave Cook and inch he'd stomp all over you. I set the baking sheet down and slowly took off my apron, meeting his stare with an arrogance all my own. His massive figure might intimidate the rest of the Haven, but I'd played rougher avenues. Cook grunted and went back to work, but I could have sworn a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Maybe the heat really was getting to me. "Take one of those biscuits with you too. You're too skinny." With a laugh I grabbed a biscuit and left the kitchen for the cool bar. A strong beer sounded perfect for my parched throat. Rose smiled at me from behind the bar. "Regular, kid?" "Yeah." I was very careful not to trade one addiction for another. Rose kept me at my two beer limit with an iron will. I appreciated it as long as she had some of that delicious sweet punch she liked to make for the kids that stopped by. She poured the beer from tap and slid it to me. Rose pulled another mug out of the washer and started wiping the spots off with a rag. Everyone pulled their weight around here. I liked that. Sian and Rose kept a clean bar. I put my back to the edge and watched the drama that seemed to follow Laura, their songbird. She was a constant headache for Sian, but her music brought the customers back. Laura's flavor of the week sat in the corner of the room. Dangerous looking, quiet. He made no attempts to draw attention to himself, just sat there, watching everything. I looked at Rose. She shook her head and continued working on her dishes. I downed my beer and wandered over to Biggs. His face held a perpetual look of longsuffering. His fingers strummed their magic, letting the beautiful tones fly. Laura was trying to force her vocals into painful mid-song pitch changes. If she kept singing like that she'd lose her voice. I flinched at another flat note.


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With a shriek of rage, she tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Biggs stopped playing almost immediately, rubbing his fingertips against each other. She'd been working him to death the last few days. He never complained. "I can't do this tonight." She huffed, her soft sultry voice carrying her pout. This one was a little too full of herself. "Perform?" Rose stopped polishing her glasses and stared at the diva with shock. "Yes." Laura sniffed. I felt disgusted. She only performed three times a week. And only for two hours at a shot. Biggs played every night. Biggs laughed. "She needs rest. Poor thing's been suffering from too much practice." Laura nodded and Rose glared at him like he'd grown a second head. Was I the only one that caught his sarcasm? "I have worked hard." Biggs strummed the guitar, letting the notes fall flat. I turned my back to Laura and drowned my smile in my beer mug. I nodded my thanks to Rose and headed back to the kitchen. The empty mug was swept up for the next round of dishes. My biscuits had to be done by now. When I entered the kitchen Cook looked up at me from his stool perch close to the wall. His grin let me know he'd been listening. "I appreciate good music. Now that she's done scratching and cawing we can get some work done eh?" I laughed and slipped on my apron. With a sigh I opened the oven and started working on the next round. Only 200 or so more biscuits to go.

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Chapter Ten

An early shift left me to my own devices for the first time in a while. I wondered how my crew was doing. How Erik was doing. I needed to check local information on shipping contracts anyway. If I could keep myself busy with that, maybe I wouldn't miss performing or see Jhon's face in my nightmares every night. Sleep was definitely on the agenda but I needed to contact Erik. I almost looked forward to the conversation. Damn I missed him. I needed to know how he was dealing with Jhon's death. Hopefully better than me. The walk to the ship took a lot less out of me than it would have a month ago. Grease and fuel filled the air in the landing dome. I missed the delicious aromas of Haven. Funny how it had become a home to me. I entered the hull of my sweet ship with a smile. With loving fingers I caressed her frame and rails. She'd been my escape for years. My bike and my ship. They were my only loves. In between tours I'd run deliveries all over the universe. It kept me sane. I needed a place far away from stomping crowds and replayed music. My brain would reset and I'd be able to let the words flow again. We'd been through a lot, Bard and I. I closed the outer doors and headed to my captain's chair. Messages from home were always forwarded to my ship when I was out. Most of the time, I received nothing of importance.


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I had messages. With surprise I engaged the feed, listening for any new jobs. I'd call Erik when they were done. My stomach flipped. He'd be doing better than me, I knew it. "Ianna." Erik's voice jerked my attention. I leaned forward to catch the message. "You're in danger." His voice sounded muffled. "Jhon's death wasn't an accident. I think he's got access to your itinerary, your codes, everything. He's been planning this for years. Since the" His voice cut out. "fire. Ianna you have to get out of there. He knows where you are." The message cut off. I stared at the console in shock. The next message came up. "Miss Ianna. We must speak with you immediately about the damage to your home. Our insurance claims for the burglary will not be approved without your signatures." I gripped the armrest so hard my fingers went numb. My home? Oh no. What happened to my home? My mind whirled. Were they related? "Ianna, you have to get in touch with me as soon as possible." Mickey's voice sounded winded, desperate. Oh God, had he been staying at the house? Was he okay? "Miss Ianna, this is Brian DeSolvo from the Dome City Alian. I was an investigator in Jhon Davis' death. We have reason to believe someone tampered with your stage equipment. Please contact me." He gave me the information. Shocked, I stared at the view from my window. Some job offers followed, but I couldn't take them in. "Ianna, I need to talk to you!" Mickey's voice sounded harsh. I checked the date. Over week ago. How long had they tried to find me? "I didn't want to tell you this over the comm., but Erik's dead. They say it’s a suicide." My heart stopped. No. Oh. God. No. "I need you to call me. Where are you?" He signed off. Erik was dead. I had no place to go. If I told Mick about Erik's message, he'd be next. Godless law, I was way in over my head. Sorrow welled up from the depths of my soul. I looked back on all the accidents from our tour. Brent died in a pyro explosion in the storage facility back home. No one knew how the explosives had gotten near the costumes, but he'd been unable to escape the fire. Shane. We'd called him the cabin boy because of

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his lack of job description. He was our acquisitions man. I needed a stimulant drink, he'd have it in hand, a sound stage check, he'd do it or get someone to do it for us. He died in an electrical accident. Jhon, then the dozen or so people injured. Now Erik. Why? It made no sense. Why would someone deliberately hurt any one of these people? Erik had said I was targeted, but it didn’t make sense. No one from New Tortuga knew me from the orphanage fire. Did they? My fingers itched to start a message to Mickey, to tell him I was okay. Fear pierced my heart. I needed to know he was safe and until I figured out what was going on… I caressed the message panel and flicked it off. Mickey was safer not knowing. He was the only thing I had left. I couldn't lose him too. Staring at a control panel wouldn't get me anywhere. I shut down Bard and headed back to Haven's Cross.


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Chapter Eleven

The Haven was packed. Every night Laura performed was like this. I waited for Rose to acknowledge me. The only seat left had me at the bar next to Biggs. He strummed alone in the corner since none of the band would perform with Laura anymore. Laura had yet to arrive. I could see Sian stewing from the opposite end of the bar. Rose passed me a mug and made her rounds with a full tray. The food and booze were flowing, but the lack of entertainment made the crowd uneasy. I could hear the strain from Bigg's strumming. He'd played so long over the past few days his fingers had blistered. I had to bite my tongue from lecturing him. Jhon had done the same thing so often I'd nagged until I was blue in the face. I sipped my beer. Biggs played his storyteller introduction and the crowd went silent. Rose dropped a washcloth next to me. "He's looking at you, hon." She raised a pert eyebrow and smiled. I swallowed and spun on the stool. His fingers slipped on the strings and I heard the crowds murmur. "For fuck's sake." I mumbled quietly. He was going to cause his fingers to bleed. Biggs should know better. "I can play for you."

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"I thought you might say that." Biggs smiled and held out the guitar with an almost tangible relief. I took the guitar with care and turned his hand palm up in mine. Blisters. "You should know better." My growl was for his ears only. The strength in his hand was unmatched, I could see it in the flex of his tendons. Years of calluses had built up but he'd abused the hell out of his fingers. His smile widened. "You know I can't tell a story if I can't feel the music." Rose escorted him off stage. He held her arm like she was a queen. I plopped down on the stool and swallowed hard. I hadn't touched music since Jhon's death. The pain from his death slashed my heart. Of their own accord my fingers settled against the strings. A few sweet notes trickled from my strumming and I let the music soothe me. I closed my eyes and let the memories of our music writing sessions roll through my mind. "New Tortuga was my home long before this building stood." The crowd murmured and I watched Biggs elbow Rose. I didn't know how, but my fingers slipped into a song Jhon and I had written together about the night of the fire. Eerie chords melded into harmony bringing the song to its start. "This is a song I wrote about the night I left." I met Sian's stare with a wry smile before letting my head drop. The music came like we'd written it yesterday. Dark, hypnotic, slow. Sitting here alone again, waiting for the dawn. A little girl feels the heat of fire coming down. The depths of hell approach her then, The ash and smoke and pain. The flames surround her tiny room, Who's screaming out her name? She drops down then to the ground, Praying for salvation.


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The blanket comes around her side, Her angel, he did come. The building's heart, had fallen dead, The rafters took it down. She pulled her body clear of death, And dragged him out of harm. A body burned, worn and tired, Lay where a girl once stood. She left her life on that day, Lowtown's oldest lie. She changed her face and hid her scars, But inside she had died. The last note died and I took a breath. Tears slid down my cheeks and the weight of my past seemed less painful somehow. The room erupted in applause. I couldn't believe it. With a sigh and a watery smile I raised my head. They stood and there wasn't a dry eye in the room. I nodded a thank you and immediately whirled into a lighthearted ditty. The crowd broke out in conversation and with the exception of the spontaneous dancing in the corner, the patrons returned to their seats. I fell into the music and did my best to lighten the hearts of Haven's appreciative crowd.

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Chapter Twelve

Exhaustion filled my body but I never felt more alive. Gods above, why in the hell did I deny myself? Singing had exorcised my emotions like nothing else could. I rolled my shoulders and snapped the guitar case closed. My fingertips caressed the well worn edge. I let my fingers trace the small depressions that years of tapping and keeping beat had left in the top. With a fond smile I remembered the hours Biggs would spend patiently teaching the orphans. We'd been so happy when he came by. "Good job tonight, kid." Rose scooped the case out of my hands and set it with care in Biggs' footlocker. He'd left some time ago. I smiled and headed to my room by way of the kitchen. Cook grunted at me but I could hear him hum one of my earlier ditties under his breath. I couldn't help it. My grin spread from ear to ear. I hummed a counter tune and he chuckled. Other than that, we ignored one another and I entered the creaky stairwell. My initial impression had been claustrophobic, but now I loved every inch of the old wood pieces Sian had saved from Old Lowtown. Biggs told the story at least twice a week, usually when Sian wasn’t around. He'd traveled to every store owner, every survivor and asked them for their wood. The everwood was the only thing left of the original planet before terraforming went wrong. Upper City wanted all remnants of Old Lowtown removed. I slid my palm against the smooth wood of the rail. He'd saved what he could. A hero to the people without even trying.


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A creak of the floor let me know I wasn't alone. Somehow I knew he'd be waiting for me. From the shadows his right hand covered mine. Light scars crisscrossed in soft white lines over his skin. "How many surgeries?" His voice carried a slight pain. We interlocked our fingers. "Too many to count." He tucked a knuckle under my chin and turned it toward the light. "This kind of work costs a pretty credit or two." "I worked shipping out of Lowtown for a while. Cargo exchange." The bitterness inside me beat against my heart. I'd run illegal cargo on the side for the local surgeon. The bastard had taken fifteen years to release me from the contract. His knuckles brushed against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and excitement roiled low in my belly. Please. "I don't do pity, Ianna." I laughed, dark and low. "Then don't pity me, Sian." Surprise flickered in the depths of his eyes. I needed him, wanted him to want me. A relationship, human touch, I needed it if only for tonight. "I don't take pity well, either." He smiled, heart stoppingly gorgeous. The scars pulled at his lip some and I saw him flinch. He didn't smile enough. I remembered my own pain and how much it hurt when my normal flesh was tugged by rigid scars. I stepped up on tip toe and brushed his lips with mine. His lips opened on a sigh and I placed small kisses against them. His arms came around me, locking my hand behind my back. I smiled and arched against his body. "Stay with me tonight." His breathless request made my knees weak. He pressed hot kisses against my sensitive neck. Raw need curled in my belly, making me want to shove him against the wall right here, discovery be damned. "Yes, Sian, please." My broken whisper was all I could give him. I needed him. He hauled me up against him, growling against my lips. The warmth of his mouth filled me with fire, reminded me that I was a woman.

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I explored his lips, tasted and savored every nuance of his essence, enjoying the sweet texture of his kisses. I broke the kiss with a soft smile. "Come with me." He held my hand in a loose grip and we ran up the stairs like a pair of teens sneaking away from the parents. I laughed. He spun me in his arms and smiled against my lips. We reached his room and I tugged him close, wanting to touch his bare skin with my hands, my lips. "You know, there were a lot of positions I considered for you when you came through my door." "Yeah?" I grinned. "Let me show you a few of them." We closed the door and made love until the early hours of the morning. I'd never been so content in my life. For just a moment in time, my heart found peace.

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Chapter Thirteen

I laid on my stomach with eyes closed. His sweet breath felt warm against my cheek. Contentment settled low in my belly and I wanted to purr. Soft fingertips followed the line of my shoulder. They reached a dead spot and I grimaced. "How much feeling loss did you suffer?" I peeked at him from beneath my lashes. He looked thoughtful, preoccupied. I sighed softly. "A lot more than I'd ever let anyone know." I wrapped my arm around his waist. He smiled and dropped a kiss on my forehead. "Nerve bundles are tricky things. I'd waited so long, some of the damage was irreparable." Phantom pain echoed in my shoulder. Years of surgeries and nerve regrowth. "Do you know what it feels like to have nerves regrow?" I shivered. Of course I remembered. His arms tightened around me and I allowed some hope to trickle into my heart. I'd been strong for so long. I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling. Sian dropped his hand and rested his head against his forearm looking every inch as beautiful as I knew he would be. "I was seven when the fire struck." My voice fell flat and cold. It was easier to deal that way. "I'd known it was coming." I heard Sian's quick intake of breath and pushed forward before he could pull away. "I'd overheard it at the orphanage. We had visitors every so often. One of the older guys" I remembered Charlie with a bitter hatred that still surprised me. Sian brushed the hair out of my eyes. "He'd been working with the local muscle, in

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information. Street rat turned informant. There were lower ways to go, but not by much." I threw my arm over my eyes and sighed. A thousand times I'd tried to forget, tried to imagine some way I could have saved them. "You were a kid, Ianna. Sometimes things just happen." "You read my mind, Sian." My eyes burned from unshed tears. I could see them like they were still standing there, plotting. "One of the local roughnecks, or whatever they're called now, had Charlie up against the wall. He owed someone named Schamel a lot of money." I'd been so fargin' terrified. My heart shriveled in memory. "They'd already roughed him up and I knew what some of them did to little girls, so I kept my mouth shut." Sian kissed my shoulder and I sighed. "Anyway, they'd promised to make him pay if he didn't get the money." I looked at Sian. "They threatened to burn down the orphanage, to lock us in and let us all die." His eyes hardened. I knew that feeling. Rage, fury, all of these emotions were my companions. Had been why I'd started singing in the first place. I needed an outlet or the pain would consume me. Jhon had helped me focus my rage into music. Looking back I realized the tranquilizers had taken away most of my emotion. "They locked us in that night, chained the outside doors. The Upper City had been pushing for Lowtown's Orphanage to be shut down anyway." My heart beat a heavy staccato against my chest. Gods above, I didn't know it would be this hard to talk about. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. "The fire started and some were able to get out of their rooms." I swallowed. "They were waiting for them. Innocent kids, killed or worse." Sian growled. "Charlie owed a lot of money." I cleared my throat and felt the thickness of smoke in my throat again, the burning in my chest. Gods above, I'd forgotten for so long. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees. "Biggs saved most of us. He'd chopped down the side door and dragged most of the kids to safety." I still remembered the screams.


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"Did he save you, Ianna?" Sian's soft voice grounded me, reminded me of who I was, where I was. I interlocked my fingers with his and admired the strength and tenderness he'd given me. "I'd forgotten to scream." My smile was a flicker, nothing more. "I didn't start screaming until the building started falling. Somewhere in there I'd been burned, but I don't remember much." Sian squeezed my hand. "The rest you heard in the song. We fell together and I did what I could to drag Biggs out." I flexed my hand. "I couldn't do much more than lay there when we were done. The med teams swept us away from each other and I thought he’d died." "What happened to Charlie?" His voice was so quiet. Fury filled me so fast it took my breath away. Bitter laughter poured out of my throat and I flinched at the harsh sound. "He sold his soul to next in line and got a deal off the rock. He'd skipped out before nightfall. That's why we were punished. An example to the rest of Lowtown." I kissed the back of his hand. "The fire spread quickly and because Upper City had been trying to remove the Lowtown buildings for years, the fire department was held under guard right outside the limits. Any move within and they were arrested. The fire chief directed the hoses over the heads of people and stopped the spread of the fires. Some, anyway. The fire burned itself out and Lowtown became the new project." "And you started shipping." "Shortly after that, yeah. There's no age limit on cargo transfers unless it involves lifting. The doctor was rich enough to get me anti-grav pallets." "What difference did that make?" Sian pulled me down to lay across his chest. I rested against his heartbeat and sighed my contentment. "Anti-grav pallets meant I could work without repercussions. The warehouse would load the pallet and I could direct the movement from there to the cargo ship by remote. No one saw my face and with some manipulation of my voice I could sound older than my years."

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"When did you start singing?" Soft fingers massaged the back of my head and I arched into his touch. "I started singing to get by when I was stuck in some backwater town. Most of the time I was ignored or given coin and credits out of pity." I grimaced, remembering how much it had hurt. "There were some pretty interesting offers as well." Looking back I could only be amazed that I'd survived with my body and mind in tact. "After my final surgery fifteen years after the fire, I was released from the contract. My face was new and lovely, I suppose. It looked nothing like the me I remember." "When did you become Ianna?" I blinked and met his stare with a surprised one of my own. "Biggs told me who you were and are." His lips rose in a crooked smile. I shook my head and chuckled. "I became Ianna when Jhon found me." My voice thickened. "Jhon sounds very important to you." "He was." "Was?" I cringed. What if telling him brought the curse here. I knew it was a silly superstition, but I'd lost my life as I knew it twice now. I didn't want to lose this. Somewhere along the way, staying here had become an option. Words poured out like a confession. "He died a few months ago." "Oh Ianna, I'm sorry." He held me close, running soothing caresses down my back. "He was my lead guitar, strong, full of life. He and his mate were my best friends. My family. Someone killed them." Rage at their loss filled my soul. Erik's death felt unreal. "Two more of my stage hands died in this tour. Recently my home was broken into and the Alien detective who'd worked Jhon's death let me know, he assumed I was next. The 'accident' had been meant for me." Sian's chest rose and fell, and I rested my chin against my arm, wanting to see his face.


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I raised an eyebrow. "So I ended the tour and took a cargo job that brought me back here." Sian's jaw hung open. His expression turned bleak and he pulled me into a hard hug. Soft lips kissed my head and cheeks, soft and sweet, they made the pain in my heart more intense. I tried to pull away but he wouldn't relent. Hard arms held me close to his heart while he undid me with soft caresses. Sorrow and rage filled my heart. "Let me go Sian, please. I can't deal with this now." "If not now, when, Ianna?" He held my hands when I would have pulled away. Panic threatened to choke me. I tugged against his grip and felt the tears fall in slick streams. He flipped me over like I was a child, his full hard body against mine. I fought like a hellcat, afraid, terrified, and I didn't know why. Somewhere in my soul I knew he wouldn't hurt me, couldn't. "Are you waiting to go back to drug induced sleep, Ianna?" His heavy breath in my ear let me know he had to fight to keep me down. "What do you know about it?" I focused on evasion and tried to stop my heart from breaking. I'd just wanted a good time, damn it! "I know far more than you think." He dropped his weight against me. I bared my teeth and considered ripping at his throat. "I don't want to think, Sian. They meant everything" my voice broke. I cleared my throat. "Everything to me. I can't be who I was without them, I won't be." Sobs jerked through my body. Sian eased his hold on my hands and sighed. "No one's asking you to, Ianna." His arms came around me, holding me close. "None of this was your fault. The fire, Charlie, your friends, none of it." He rolled to his side, pulling me with him. Sian slipped a leg between mine and he rocked me slowly. I cried against his chest, muffling the sobs against his skin. He murmured incoherencies against my hair, another language I'd never heard. The soft rolling words helped my heart ease, let the sobs die down a little at a time.

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Exhausted both emotionally and physically, I trusted him to keep me safe. I let his comfort and warmth envelope me like nothing else in my life had. Not the walls, influence or money I'd surrounded myself with. Safe. Home. "You know, I could really fall in love with you." My quiet mumble would probably embarrass me later, but for the moment, I didn't care. Soft lips brushed against my forehead. "I know the feeling, hellcat." I chuckled. "Sleep, Ianna. We're both very tired." Darkness surrounded me, drawing me down into a dreamless sleep protected by the beat of my lover's heart.


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Chapter Fourteen

A heavy bang on the door jerked me out of sleep. Sian murmured and tucked my back to his chest. His nose nuzzled my neck through my hair and I laughed. His arm wrapped around my rib cage, holding me close. We fit well. "Sian, it's me!" Rose's angry voice brought me fully alert. "What?" Sian's roar had me chuckling. He definitely had more bark than bite. He kissed my shoulder. The door jerked open and Rose stood there, hands on hips a smirk on her dainty lips. She nodded her head toward me. "Ianna." "Rose." I pulled the sheet over our bodies and snuggled further into the bed. With surprise I realized I felt no embarrassment. Just relaxed, no pressure, no worries. Life was good. "I'm heading to the stocks to pick up some stuff for Cook." Rose shifted the basket on her hip. She looked slightly uncomfortable. Sian rose over my shoulder and rested his chin on my arm. "You sure are gussied up Rose." I narrowed my gritty eyes, trying to clear my vision. "He's right!" She was wearing her best clothes, her hair braided and beautiful. She broadcasted nervous excitement. "You're meeting someone."

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Rose tapped her hair and sniffed, but a dark blush crept up her cheeks. "I'm just meeting up with a new shipping captain. He's looking to deliver imported alcohol to the resort in the Upper crust. I intend to convince him that The Haven would be a better bet." "Your braid looks amazing with the blue streaks." The blue and brown created a beautiful combination. The blue looked like strips of ribbon. "You think so?" Rose straightened her shoulders and smiled and arched a brow. With a saucy wink she reverted back to the Rose I knew and not the unsure woman I'd just had a peek at. Rose accepted me. That was enough for now. "She's right, it does." Sian smiled and then grumbled about early morning wake ups. "I'll let you get back to it, then." She chuckled. "I needed to ask if you needed something." Sian grumbled something resembling a negative and I closed my eyes. "Ianna." Rose's hesitant voice made me nervous. "Thank you, from all of us, for saving Biggs' life." With that she spun on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her. Sian forced my jaw shut with a snap. "Rose always asks me if I need anything before she makes her market run and before you ask, no, I don't invite my employees to share my bed, usually." I laughed, low and husky. "I didn't think you did, Sian. Rose just surprised me." "I'm just glad she's going on a date. That gives us time." "Time for what?" My stomach fluttered. He kissed my lower back, his soft lips playing havoc with the sensitive nerves along my spine. My breath hitched. Sian stopped. "One more question. Is there anyone else in your life, Ianna?" I rolled over to face him. "No one else, not really." I thought of Mickey with a little regret. "Not really?"


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"Mickey's been my public beau for a while." "Public beau?" He said it with disgust. I chuckled. "It's not like it sounds. I'd had a fiancé early on in my career. He'd taken everything and left me a wreck." I shrugged. "Mickey was there to pick up the pieces. He'd moved in as my boyfriend. We have separate living quarters in the rooms when we’re on tour and the housewhen he stayed with me, anyway. The public was appeased and strange men stopped trying to corner me at every concert." "Did he know it was just a show?" "Of course, it was his idea, not mine." Sian shook his head. "How could anyone just let you go like that?" I laughed. "You make it sound like I'm something I'm not." "What attractive, sexy, beautiful?" "Yeah, surgery did all that, Sian, not me." He grinned. "I wasn't talking about the surgeries, Ianna. I meant you." "You know, Sian. You keep talking like that and I’m going to have to marry you." He laughed. "You're a glutton for punishment Ianna. I have some work to do in town then I'm all yours." He kissed my nose. I laid there for some time staring at his ceiling and wondering why I'd said anything about marriage. Neither one of us expected me to stay here. So why did my heart feel more at peace here than anywhere else? I tried to work up fury or at least anger at him forcing me to purge my pain last night, but I couldn't. My heart was too full of peace. With a sigh of contentment I rose from bed and got dressed. Humming low in my throat I made my way down the stairs and picked up a couple of biscuits out of the bread basket. Drake sat against the far wall, looking like he'd obviously been crying. He ducked under the brim of his cap, trying to hide it. It was good to see him act like a kid sometimes. Without a word I handed him a biscuit. He sniffed and nibbled on the edges. I squat next to him. "You know, it seems to me a man has a lot of weight on his shoulders."

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"Yeah, sometimes." He sniffed and rubbed a hand across his nose. "It's hard doing it all on your own. Sian told me so." "Sian said that?" Drake's big brown eyes almost broke my heart. "Yeah, he did. What happened? Sometimes talking it out makes it easier." I wanted to brush the tears off his cheeks but knew it would be rejected instantly. "I found Rose." His voice cracked and I felt my heart in my throat. "Found her?" We heard voices and Drake disappeared out the back. I straightened when I recognized Sian's voice cursing. "They found Rose just outside her ship, Sian." "I've been with her all day, Judge. You can scan me for lies if you want." "That's not necessary Sian. It's not why I'm here. Why would someone deliberately do this, during the day shift?" "How the hell should I know?" I could hear the frustration in Sian's voice. What in the nine hells is going on? "Look, I realize she may be your latest" "Don't go there Anderson. Ever." His voice was dead calm. Terrifying. I pushed open the door with all the calm I could muster and stopped dead in my tracks. Judge Anderson was the single most distinguished and attractive man I'd seen in a long time. Until I looked into his eyes. Dead. Cold. This one had seen too much for too long. "What happened?" Sian's face was shuttered. Knots tightened in my belly and I felt the loss of his warmth like a plant starving for light. "Miss Ianna." Judge Anderson cleared his throat. "Rose was killed today." I felt the world shift under me and reached blindly for a chair before my legs collapsed. My voice croaked and I tried to speak again. "What? How?" I was going to be sick. "The details of her death aren't important right now." Judge Anderson walked toward me and I shrank from him in instinctual fear. His voice had shattered my peace.


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He stopped in his tracks and I sank into the seat. A door opened behind me and I heard the soft shuffle of Biggs making his way in from the kitchen. "Rose's body was left by your ship, Ianna." The judge held his hands out in supplication. "Do you know why?" Another death. My mind whirled in panic. It had followed me, the curse had followed me. "I don’t know, Judge. I'm so sorry." Tears filled my eyes. Pretty Rose with the blue striped hair and the pert smile. "Not my Rose." Biggs gripped my shoulder with a strong hand. I flinched. His voice was filled with rage and pain. "Please not my Rose." "Biggs" Sian attempted to come closer. "No. Please." Biggs' voice cracked. I rose and wrapped my arms around him. We held each other close. For the second time in my life I cried against his shoulder. "Well." Judge Anderson cleared his throat. "If you find out anything, let me know." He nodded his head at me. "Ma'am." He put a hand on Biggs' shoulder. "Biggs." When he left I glanced at Sian. His face was still closed to me, cold. I shivered. "I'll leave on the next shuttle dock." I'd take death with me. "The hell you will!" Sian's voice reigned like thunder making me jump. Biggs grabbed his guitar and made his way to the corner. "What else do you expect me to do?" My mind reeled with options. All them involved getting as far away from here as possible. "Think, damn it!" Sian tapped his head. "He knows you. He followed you here." "What if it's a coincidence, Sian?" My throat felt thick and raw with unshed tears. "I don't believe in coincidence anymore, Ianna. I haven't for a very long time." Sian stared at the ceiling and I could see the pain clearly etched in his face. "Are you willing to let Drake be next? Me? Anyone else who knows you!" Sian's voice bellowed his rage.

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"I didn't know damn it!" I shook. "What do I do? How" I choked. "How do I fix this?" "Stay here. I'm going to hunt down some more information." Sian turned his back and growled over his shoulder. "Lock up behind me and don't let anyone in until the delivery tonight."


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Chapter Fifteen

"Well, no use doing nothing. Get yourself up on that stool and start practicing." Biggs felt around for a chair and pulled it close. I stared at him in shock. "Music is pain, Ianna. I taught you that a long time ago. You can't express happiness without feeling the depths of darkness." He settled back. "We lost everything, yet we both made our way. I lost my sight some years ago and learned to make a new way. Life is ever changing." "I'm sorry about Rose, Biggs." "Did you kill her?" His voice could have been ice it was so hard. "No, of course not." "Then kill the one who did and we'll be even." He raised an eyebrow. "What if he kills me first?" My voice was barely above a whisper. "Then you owe me in death, Ianna, and that means playing until your soul bleeds. So get to work. Focus on something else. My fingers still hurt too much to play." His face fell into deep lines of sorrow. He didn't have the heart to play, not with Rose gone. She'd been such a ray of sunshine. I started a light reel and we fell into the old balance of instruction. He had always been a great teacher. Sometime later I begged for a break. My fingers were blistered to the point of bleeding and I couldn't touch the strings without tears in my eyes.

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He gruffly sent me to get us something to drink. I heard the buzz of the door. A quick check of the clock showed that the delivery supply truck was probably here. "I'm sorry we're closed, but please feel free" Biggs stopped talking. I looked up from the tap. Biggs had fallen. A flash of light and sharp pain in my head was the last thing I remembered before tumbling into unconsciousness. I woke with a dry throat, my head aching. The hum of tranq's ran through my blood. God, no. I'd gotten over them. My body tried to settle into the calm buzz of forgetfulness. I fought it. The burn of impact from the flash of whatever the hell it was that hit me spread like fire across my chest. Where the hell am I? I did a quick scan of my surroundings. It looked like a storage hangar of some type. I sat in a chair with my hands tied. A soft moan to the right of me caught my attention. "Oh god, Biggs!" I jerked against the ropes, trying to get to him. Blood trickled in slow rivulets down his scalp. He wasn't moving. Heavy steps echoed in the room filling my heart with terror. Who was doing this? A dark presence slipped behind me, quiet as a mouse. I felt a tug on my ropes and they loosened slightly. The footsteps came closer and the figure slipped a small pen knife in my hand. My fingers tingled and burned from my over practice. With clumsy efforts, I worked on the bonds. The footsteps stopped. I held my breath, terrified. With horror I raised my head, afraid to find out who was behind all of this. The menacing figure stood in the shadows, arms crossed. "Hello darling." Mickey stepped out of the shadows.


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Chapter Sixteen

"Mickey?" My throat closed. "Please tell me you're here for a rescue." He smiled, perfect and handsome. "Not quite, sweetheart." "Tell me you don't know anything about this." My soul froze. Not Mick. Please. "Wrong again, Ianna." His tongue clicked his disappointment. "Why?" My head was spinning and panic reared its ugly head. "Why not?" He walked in a semi circle, forcing my eyes to follow his trek. Biggs stirred and I prayed to whatever gods were listening that he leave the man alone. I slowly pulled against the ropes and tried to slip the blade to a better angle. My fingers wouldn't cooperate. Growling in my mind at my ineptness, I did my best. Oh yeah, like you should have PLANNED for something like this. Sometimes I really wanted my brain to shut up. "Where's your rescuer?" Mickey scanned the shadows. His hand pressed against his slacks and I wondered if he had a weapon. I blinked. "What?" He flashed a grin my way. "Maybe it's not for you. Maybe it's for him." His hand swung out and I stared in horror at the gun. He aimed at Biggs and stared at me over his arm. "What do you think, kid? Think someone's here for him?" He fired. I screamed, jerking against my bonds in terror. Biggs' body jerked like a rag doll, then slumped forward against the ropes. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew my ears were ringing and that the rope was tearing into my skin, but I didn't care.

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"You sonofabitch." I struggled against the rope, cutting myself with the knife in the process. Rage boiled inside, and I started screaming every horrible thing I could think of doing to the cowardly bastard. Mickey tutt tutted. "My my, Ianna. Such language." "He was old, Mickey! Hell's fire, he has nothing to do with anything!" Mickey moved quicker than I could respond. The impact of his fist on my cheekbone knocked me backward, tumbling the chair onto the floor, forcing the knife to finish the job of cutting the rope. My cheek hurt like a bitch. "He had everything to do with it, Ianna, darling." He spit the endearment like a curse. "All of this is your fault." Sian exploded from the shadows, knocking Mickey against the ground. I heard the sounds of fists slamming into flesh and I scrambled to my feet, trying to see through my tears. The gun went off and I screamed. One figure slumped on top of the other. I ran over, terrified. Someone had the weapon, please don't let it be The barrel swung into view from under Sian. I faced down the icy stare of my former friend, manager. Who was he? He shoved Sian off of him and stood. I stared at Sian's body and felt my soul rip apart. Mickey's smile dimmed and he looked from the expression on my face to Sian. "Here I thought you needed rescuing." He glared at me, the gun at the ready. I raised my empty hand. "You fucked him, didn't you?" He growled. "What difference does it make?" I felt numb. Mickey was going to kill me too. Had killed everyone that ever meant anything to me. He jerked my arm, twisting it behind my back. "I played the perfect boyfriend, lover and assistant. For years." His hoarse whisper terrified me. "You gave up everything we'd been and everything we'd done for him."


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"Leave her alone." Sian moved slowly, drawing up to a low crouch. I was in awe. He was alive. My heart flared with hope and terror. Please let him live. Let this one thing be okay. Mickey knelt next to Sian dragging me to the floor with him. "Lemme ask you something, hero. Do you make a habit of fucking another man's fiancé?" "Fiance?" Sian jerked like he'd been slapped. "What are you talking about, Mick?" My world was falling apart around me. "We were never engaged." "Oh, didn't you hear the news, Ianna?" He grinned wolfishly, his perfect white teeth in even rows. He shoved me next to Sian and he started pacing. How long had that beautiful face hidden his insanity? Mickey waved the gun in the air like a maniac. "We were engaged. That's why you quit the tour. We had a wedding to plan." His eyes sparkled. "Why would you say something like that, Mickey?" My voice shook. "Why not? You were supposed to be at home, like you told me you would be, you ungrateful bitch." His face contorted into a macabre version of the Mickey I'd known. Gone was the sweet, kind, considerate assistant. In his place was a twisted, murdering maniac. “Oh god. You killed Jhon." My throat closed. I put my arms around Sian and slipped the pen knife in his hand. It was useless to me. "Very good darling." He grinned. "Move away from your lover you unfaithful bitch." "None of it was real, Mick. Why are you doing this?" "What wasn't real?" He grabbed my arm and jerked me away from Sian. "You couldn't survive one day without my help. I clothed you, medicated you, held you when your nightmares woke you in terror, comforted you." His grip bit into my arm like a vice. Wide soulless eyes stared into mine. I tried not to wince. "When your former fiancé skipped out on you for a groupie." I gasped. "Tell me, you didn't"

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He laughed, bitter harsh. "No, I had nothing to do with that. He left you all on his own darling." It shouldn't have hurt, but Godless Law, he made it sound so fucking inevitable. "You fed me tranqs and kept me dependent on you." Who was I kidding? I'd done it to myself. "You needed me, Ianna." His eyes flashed dangerously, his voice low and cold. The cold metal of the barrel pressed against my cheek. "Me. Not him." His eyes flashed to Sian, the gun swinging out to aim right at his chest. "No!" I screamed and would have done something, anything, but I caught Sian's negative shake of his head. Tears filled my eyes. "Please, Mickey." I collapsed against him, making him stumble and pay attention to me, if just for a moment. His arm came around me, holding me tight against his body. Shifting his attention between Sian and me kept his eyes in constant movement. His arm shook slightly. "I've always needed you." He laughed, bitter, dark. "Yeah, you have." He sneered. "The first death was an accident. I watched the fire start from a stupid mistake on that kid's part." "Brent." He ignored me. "I was fascinated by his death, by the way he died." He stared into the distance, his sight unfocused. "You fell apart that night." His hungry stare made my skin crawl. He'd craved my misery like a drug. "I knew I could draw you closer. In time you'd wonder what you ever did without me." The cold metal of the gun caressed my cheek. "Nothing to say, Ianna?" His voice sounded like a caress, soft, intimate. I tried not to scream at his insanity. "I just don't know what to say. I never thought I mattered all that much to anyone, Mickey. You know that." I sighed. "You know me so well." Keep him talking. "I did, darling. You went and changed on me." He tilted his head. "I don't care for change. Jhon had gotten too close. I knew he switched up the routine at the last


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minute. So what should have been a painful recovery for you and your doting fiancé, ended in his death." His perfect face looked so surreal, so calm. "I don't like my plans changing." He pulled me close. "Erik died because I couldn't stand all of his questions. You relied on them too much anyway." "Rose?" "Who?" Mickey raised an eyebrow. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sian start to move. "Rose, blue and brown hair, braided." Fucking bastard. "Oh." He laughed. "Yeah, you can thank her for leading me to you. You didn't go to the resort like you'd promised." He paused and glared at me. "That reminds me" He punched me in the stomach. I fell to the ground gasping with tears running down my cheeks. "I don't like being lied to, Ianna." I waited for the next blow but heard a gurgling sound above my head. With tear filled eyes I looked up. Sian had stabbed Mickey from behind. Pink bubbles formed in the corners of Mickey's mouth. I could only watch him grasp at Sian's hand. When Mickey's body dropped, Sian fell backward, collapsing. I rushed to him, scared I'd lose him too. That I was too late to save anything in this nightmare. "You sure know how to pick 'em." "Yeah, well, nothing about me is easy, Sian." "Loving you is." His breathing became shallow and harsh. "Gods above, I hope so. I love you too, damn it, so don't you dare die on me." "Good." His voice faded. "Ianna!" Drake ran from the dark and slid to a stop next to me. He threw his arms around my neck and buried his head against my neck. I wrapped an arm around him. "Shhh, it's okay Drake." I rubbed his back in spite of my blistered fingers shooting pain through my hands.

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"I got help. I found Sian. I did what I could. I followed you. I followed Rose because sometimes she gives me cakes and" Drake's voice became shriller with each sentence. I held him close and listened. He'd watched Mickey kill Rose and lay her by my ship. No one had seen anything, but he had. "You did great, Drake. I'm so proud of you. You saved our lives." Shadows came in from the outside but I didn't notice who they were. I barely heard the sirens, didn’t pay attention to anything but keeping Sian and Drake as close to me as possible. I couldn't lose them too. Please.


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Epilogue

"So you don't know anything?" Judge Anderson sat at the bar. All the patrons had left the life celebration of Rose and Biggs. We'd waited until the Beer festival. All of Lowtown had shown up. The wake was beautifully done. The judge had remained behind. I had to hand it to him, he was stubborn. Four months was a long time to keep searching for a body. Sian shook his head and polished another mug. Judge Anderson nodded. The two murders would go unsolved. No one was talking, but then again, Lowtown took care of its own. Neither one of us knew what happened to Mickey's body. I shuddered to remember the hatred in the eyes of the local muscle when they'd seen Biggs dead against the pallet. I'd never gotten a chance to tell him thank you, but I hoped wherever he was, he knew it. Knew my heart. Sian and I took it one day at a time. Together we found the strength to carry on. He held his secrets close to his heart, but I understood. We'd work through those when he was ready. "When's the date?" I blushed. "As soon as possible." Sian's possessive tone and sexy grin made my heart turn over. I loved him. So very much.

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"Well thank you, Sian, for your help." He tipped his hat. "Miss Ianna. I'll see you both at the wedding." I smiled at the handsome man and turned back to tuning Biggs' guitar. I was slowly coming to terms with the amount of control I'd given over to that psychopath. Rumors flew that he'd left me for some little starlet. The band had split apart and I couldn't have been happier. I sang in Haven as often as they'd let me. I smiled through my pain and was reminded that sometimes coming home is the beginning we'd longed for, not the end we'd dreaded. Who knows, maybe I'd learned something about life. About myself, definitely. About love… Sian locked the front door with a few snaps and punched in the code. I placed the guitar in its case and closed it with a loving caress. Biggs had given me music, but Sian had given me hope. He held out his hand and I grinned, letting him haul me up into his arms. "I guess I should get around to asking you to marry me." Sian kissed me long and slow. "I suppose so." I pretended to think on it. "Since everyone's already under the impression that it’s going to happen, why not let it be?" His smile turned gentle. "Marry me, Ianna." I arched an eyebrow. "No." His jaw dropped and I laughed. "Okay, maybe." With a growl he pounced on me, tickling without mercy. I collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles, feeling the joy of my new life fill my heart. "Okay, fine!" I gasped my answer. "What?" He raised an eyebrow, his hands hovering over my stomach. "I'll marry you damn it!" "It's about damn time." Cook's voice bellowed across the room, scaring us both. We turned our heads and stared at Cook. "What?" He bit into a biscuit and smiled. "Don't blame me for your happiness. I'll have none of it." He swallowed and headed back to the kitchen, whistling a jaunty tune.


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And that, my friends, is how I came back to New Tortuga. My home sweet home. Sometimes I can still hear Biggs play when Haven's empty or see a flash of blue and remember sweet Rose. I know somewhere out there, Jhon and Erik are together and watching over me. Every one of my assets have been sold and I started building a music school in Lowtown, in memory of Biggs. The Upper crust has some issues with it, but hell, it's my money, so why not. The End

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You can keep abreast of what Jessica D. Russell is writing by joining our announcement only loop: [email protected]. If you enjoy chatting with authors please consider joining: [email protected] If you enjoyed New Tortuga: Monday’s Child, you may enjoy Rayne Forrest’s Across Time. Corri Dunn’s mission to distant Adhara VII began on a downhill slide. Not only have her superiors withheld vital information, her ex-lover, Devin Tremaine, knows what that information is. Corri must face Devin, and what happened between them five years ago. If she doesn’t it could cost her the command of her ship, perhaps even her life. Devin Tremaine made one big mistake in his life – he lost Corrie when she needed his understanding and he couldn’t give it. He’s paid for losing her love ever since. Now they’re both on Adhara VII, caught in a web of deceit – and renewed passion. Here is an excerpt from Across Time: Devin quickly gathered his gear and headed for their best shuttle. The Moira was powering up as he tossed his pack behind the pilot’s seat and strapped in. Greg Roland didn’t bother to acknowledge him, just flipped a few switches to bring the pilot’s boards active. Devin ran the sequence checks then ordered the bay depressurized, and the bay doors opened. The Moira rose a scant six inches from the deck and the Stargazer slid out from under her. It didn’t take long for the call from the Avery McKenna to come. Rose had followed protocol to notify other orbiting ships of a shuttle launch and if a ship’s captain was onboard. Devin grinned wolfishly as Corri’s voice filled the shuttle. “What do you think you’re doing, Tremaine?” “Well, hello, Corrine. Fancy meeting you way out here.”


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“Listen, you son of a bitch. You land that shuttle on that planet and I will personally take you into custody.” He didn’t think he’d mind that too very much. “Your momma needs to go get her money back from that fancy finishing school she sent you to. Tsk, tsk. Such language.” “You are not funny. Park that shuttle anywhere but back on that piece of garbage you fly and I’ll have to arrest you.” “Show me your open authorization to arrest anyone on Adhara VII and show me your open warrant on me, in particular,” he challenged. The silence on the other end of the transmission was evidence that her bluff had been called. “You keep away from Dr. Winston and his team. You stay away from my personnel. And you stay away from me, Tremaine.” “I’d love to stay away from you. I have every intention of staying away from you. As for the rest of it, you’d better tell Winston to steer clear of my people. Cooperation is a two-way street, and if your people don’t respect mine I’ll personally order them to stand up for themselves.” Let her stew about that, he thought smugly. “You idiot! You can’t give them permission to start brawls!” “Sure I can. My people have brains, Dunn. The military hasn’t sucked the grey matter out of their skulls and replaced it with rhetoric. They can actually think for themselves. And they’ll know if they’ve been insulted.” “This is serious, Devin. You stay away from Winston or I’ll have to take appropriate action.” “Your actions are always appropriate, aren’t they?” “You bastard.” “I do lack parental units, that’s true.” Devin grinned as the com link went dead. “That went well, didn’t it?” he said to Greg. Behind him, Meredith snorted. “I don’t know, Devin,” Greg replied. “Did it?”

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Devin ignored them and rose to check on the crew riding down to the surface in the cargo bay. “What did I just hear?” Greg asked Meredith innocently as soon as Devin disappeared. Meredith grinned at him. “Foreplay.” **** Once at their camp, Corri found out she’d already seen what there was to see. The camp was Spartan. Each tent contained two cots and the normal assorted camp items and non-perishable foodstuffs. So where was everyone? She looked around and brought her rusty tracking training to bear. There was evidence of downtrodden grass, a faint path, leading away from the camp. She checked her hand weapon and holstered it, and then followed the barely noticeable trail. She thought she’d lost it when she entered the shady woods. It took several minutes of casting about before she found it again, going straight ahead, deeper into the forest. She’d just concluded it was folly to continue on alone when a noise behind her snapped her to attention. She stealthily drew her weapon then whirled around. “Don’t shoot me, Dunn!” Devin exclaimed, quickly halting and holding his hands out wide at shoulder height. “Put that away.” The Irish brogue was more pronounced than usual. Corri glared at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on me like that? You know better!” God he was gorgeous in old-fashioned denim. Those pants hugged his body like a glove. The custom tailored black leather jacket he wore had been a gift. From her. “I wasn’t sneaking. I was about to call out to you. Where do you think you’re going?”


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“Where does this trail go, Tremaine? You might as well tell me. I’m following it until I find out.” “Oh, no doubt. You’re too stubborn to give it up.” He grinned at her. “Maybe I found my leprechaun and his pot of gold.” She wished he’d stop smiling at her. She was very aware of their isolation, and the fact that she suddenly wished he’d just shut up and kiss her. It had been five long, lonely years since he’d kissed her. She couldn’t give in to her emotions. She had a job to do. “You’re not that Irish, and you’re certainly not that funny.” She turned on her heel and stalked off. Devin quickly caught up to her and fell into step beside her. “We found a cave. Or, I suppose I should say, a cavern. We’ve not explored it beyond the entrance. We’re not equipped,” he admitted. “Did you touch anything? Disturb anything?” God help them if he had. Winston’s head would probably explode if Devin’s crew had moved even a grain of sand. “No and no. There’s evidence that some large carnivore used the area for a den. We didn’t linger for dinner.” He shot her a wry glance. Corri looked at him disgustedly. He did think he was funny. And charming. Of course, he really was. Therein lie the problem. “How big is it?” she asked, instantly regretting her choice of words. His blue eyes gleamed at her with amusement. “Come on, Dunn. I didn’t whip out my tape measure and check it.” **** “What do you want, Dunn? You still want to see me fall on my sword?” “Let go of me,” she said coolly. Her heart fluttered wildly at his nearness. Don’t ever let go of me again. “No. Not until you talk to me.”

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Corri yanked her arm out of his grasp. “We’ve been talking. And you can take your sword and do whatever you like with it.” He lunged and pressed her against the cold stone of the cavern wall. She barely felt it. All she felt was his body pressed to hers, and she burned for him. “I cared for you, Corri. Did you like seeing me bleed?” His voice was raspy, strangely resonant in the still air. Corri looked up at his face, bare inches away from hers. Awareness of him flared hot and bright in her. Her body remembered his touch and longed for it again. Her nipples tingled and hardened. Her innermost flesh contracted, throbbed and flooded wet, all in remembrance of his body inside hers. She struggled to remain motionless, to keep her hips from moving to his with an unspoken invitation. “Did you, Corri?” he whispered, his angry gaze bored into hers in search of an answer. Corri shook her head in denial. She had not meant to hurt him. She had not believed anything could hurt him, had not believed he gave enough of himself to anyone to be hurt by them. Except maybe by Carlton Starkey. “I never wanted to hurt you, Devin.” She hated the way her voice quivered. “You didn’t hear what I was trying to say.” “I heard you,” he said tightly. “Your career meant more than we did. More than I did.” His jaw muscles worked, clenched and unclenched. He swallowed. “I heard that loud and clear, Captain Dunn.” Would he hear this? “Damn you, Devin,” she said and pulled his mouth down to hers. He jerked away at the first touch of their lips and stared at her with eyes gone black in the strange lighting of the cave. His hands slid from her shoulders to her wrists, grasping them tightly and raising her arms over her head. He pressed his body to hers and she felt the hard ridge of his arousal pressing into her belly. Her body rained down an aching welcome for him.


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“Damn me all you want,” he whispered, his voice husky. He slowly lowered his mouth back down to hers. Now available: http://www.aspenmountainpress.com/science-fiction/across-time/prod_11.html

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Mondays Child

Dark Mondays

Dark Mondays

Married on Mondays

Second Child

Sarah's Child

Hope's Child

One Child

Thirteenth Child

Demon Child

Taken Child

Nathan's Child

One Child

Wild Child

Wild Child

Wild Child

Thirteenth Child

Story Child

Demon Child

Magic's Child

Wednesday's Child

Backstreet Child

Moon Child

His Child

Winter's Child

Infinity's Child

Galaxy's Child

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