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DEEDECK DESIGN
Chapter 12
They found a small lounge, empty of people, but filled with groups of seats and small tables, which Coltier rearranged to his satisfaction. Moira shook her head at his proprietary action, wondering how he got away with such a domineering attitude. Connie entered a moment later to Moira’s surprise, since she hadn’t seen Coltier signal his man that they’d changed locations. But neither Connie nor Coltier acted as though anything was out of the ordinary.
Connie set out a veritable banquet of food and handed his boss a large insulated cup. Coltier took a sip, and then lifted the cup in a salute to his employee, one corner of his mouth curling in approval. Connie nodded in return, face as stoic as ever, but as he turned to the door he gave Moira a wink, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners with what she would swear was humor.
“Hm. He likes you,” Coltier mused in a tone that made Moira give him a sharp glance. But his face was inscrutable as he sipped his coffee and waved her to a seat.
Giving him a frown, she bypassed the seat he indicated and sat across from him instead. He hid that almost smile behind his cup.
They ate without much conversation, mainly because Coltier inhaled food like a starving wolf. Moira watched him with a small bit of guilt and a large amount of amazement as he put away everything Connie had brought them, minus the small portion Moira had taken for herself. She would have commented on it, except she had decided on a policy of polite distance from this man, and that conversation seemed like a slippery slope into the land of personal.
Connie arrived as they were finishing, announcing that the route to the space pod was clear. Coltier told him to have their usual baggage transferred to the pod and turned to Moira.
“I assume you’re already packed for the trip?”
“They have everything I need on board,” she responded. This was standard procedure for her transfers.
He frowned and held out his hand to Connie. The big man didn’t hesitate, reaching into his clothing and pulling out a portable com unit. Coltier flicked it open and passed his thumb over the surface. A moment later, he said, “Besh, did you go over the doc’s luggage?”
Moira heard Besh reply, “Yes, sir. Looks good and the ship checks out. The pilots run clean.”
Coltier’s handsome face tightened, but he nodded. “Understood. We’re on our way,” he said and flicked the unit closed, dark eyes steady on her. “Ready, Doc?”
She raised her eyebrows. “We haven’t got authorization yet.”
“We will,” he said with perfect confidence, standing and offering a hand to her. She knew better than to take it.
“All the same,” she said with a stern look as she rose on her own, “we’ll check with my supervisor first.”
“Whatever you say, Doc,” he responded with that too charming, quicksilver grin. Trouble with a capital T.
She was unsurprised to find Delone in a bad mood. The sour expression on his blade of a face and the furious glitter in his eyes belied his smooth, beaurocratic tone as he told her that Coltier had been authorized to accompany her and have access to zone information. However, the higher ups had denied approval for other bodyguards.
Coltier stared at the man for a long moment, arms folded and expression menacingly contemplative. Then he said with quiet steel, “No deal. Tell your bosses that I’m bringing one with me. If they’ve got a problem with that, they can tell it to the cops and news dogs. We’ll be in touch.”
Moira sighed as he ended the transmission. “You have got to stop doing that.”
“What?” he asked with poorly manufactured innocence, waving her towards the exit.
She gave him a narrow look, passing Connie on her way out the door. “Taking over my conversations. Inciting hostility in my employers. Dominating.”
“Just doing my job,” he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders and a faint smirk.
“Your job is to run roughshod over people?”
“When necessary.”
“Lovely. You’re going to be such a great help at the site.”
He flashed another charming grin, dark eyes slanting down at her with a devilish gleam that did dramatic things to her insides. “I aim to please.”
Connie coughed behind them, sounding a bit strangled. Moira glanced over her shoulder to assess his condition and caught him smothering a grin. She stared for a second, almost shocked by how the humor transformed his heavy, forbidding features.
Coltier caught her elbow, steering her out of harm’s way as she nearly walked into another group of travelers. She smiled an apology to them, trying not to shiver in reaction to his warm touch.
“I see keeping you safe is going to be a full time job,” he murmured, fingers lingering for an unsettling moment before he let her go.
She wanted to rub the spot to dispel the tingling sensation he’d caused, but knew that action would be too revealing. Instead, she grimaced and focused sourly on their path through the facility.
Besh met them at the airlock, giving Moira a quick smile before addressing his boss. “Sir, baggage is aboard. All set for travel.”
“Good. Change of plans—you’ll be staying behind, help out Kreel with interviews. All personnel, Besh, even the ones off duty at the time.”
Besh’s mouth tightened, and he sent Moira a swift glance before he said, “Yes, sir,” in a subdued tone. He headed back into the facility, but Moira stopped him with a touch on his arm.
“Thanks for everything, Besh,” she said with a grateful smile.
He returned it with interest and patted her hand. “Safe travel, Doc.”
“Thank you.” She watched him go for a moment before she was distracted by Coltier’s sigh.
“He likes you, too.”
“It’s not a crime,” she muttered, frowning at him as she turned to the airlock. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty likable person.”
“Mm-hmm.” His voice had a heavy layer of doubt as he opened the airlock, dark eyes twinkling with mischief.
Moira silently lectured herself on the dangers of responding to him, while they stepped into the airlock and the door sealed behind them. She was contemplating the pitfalls in her strategy of personal distance during a cramped space voyage, when the floor zigzagged under her feet and the world turned red and loud. Before she even understood the danger, Coltier snapped an arm around her waist and lunged for the ship’s hatch.
“Manual override!” he shouted, as an ominous hiss competed with the blaring alarm and a terrifying wind began to tug at her clothing. Airlock breach, she thought with sharp horror and wrapped a frantic arm around his neck. He braced her against the hull with his body, punched at the controls with a snap of his fist, and the pod’s door slipped open a crack.
She could hear someone shouting on the other side, but couldn’t understand what they said. Connie squeezed around them, putting his back against the hissing seal and hooking a meaty hand around the open door. Coltier braced his free hand in the crack as well and the two of them forced the door open with a brutal flex of muscle.
Coltier whirled her inside with a swift ease that belied the force she could feel pulling them towards vacuum. Once again securing her against the hull with his body, he reached through the opening and grabbed for Connie.
The hatch tried to close again. Coltier snarled as his arm got caught in the seal, preventing closure, though it had to be causing him enormous pain. He snapped his head around and roared, “Take her! Seal up in control!”
A man in a DDEC pilot’s uniform pulled her from between Coltier and the hull, dragging her towards the front of the space pod. Moira stared in horror at the grimace of pain and effort on Coltier’s face, as he braced against the pressure of the hatch on his arm, hair and clothes flapping in the wind of escaping atmosphere.
“Jax!” But the pilot had her across the threshold of the control chamber, and the door slid closed, cutting off her sight of his straining form.
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