Free Shadower by Catherine Spangler

to have part of your memory erased," he answered. "Then I'll let you go."
    She froze, staring at him, astonishment in her eyes. In a world where survival depended on staying one step ahead of the Controllers, or their Antek henchmen, or shadowers; where it was frequently a matter of kill or be killed, an act of compassion was as rare as a warming cycle on Atara. She obviously had not expected mercy from him.
    "I can see that surprises you," he said. "It just so happens I don't believe in killing innocent people. It was an accident that you turned up at the wrong time."
    She considered a moment. Then, instead of showing relief as he had expected, she shoved him. "How long?"
    He stumbled back. "How long what?"
    "How long will your plan take? Did it ever occur to you, Travers, that I might have places to go, business to take care of?"
    A little gratitude would have been nice. His anger boiled over. "You have business to take care of? What about me? My life has been completely disrupted ever since I met you, lady. No, make that miserable. I had to play healer to you, and then I spent hours traipsing around Calt trying to be sure you were okay. Now I have to take five cycles out of my time to get your memory erased and—"
    "Five cycles!" she screeched, stomping toward him, a fork clutched in her hand. "Where the blazing hells are we going?"
    He didn't know if she intended to use that utensil, but he wasn't taking any chances. He lunged forward, grabbed her wrist, and pried the fork from her fingers.
    Tossing it into the sterilizer, he growled, "Don't ever approach me with anything that could be used as a weapon. And don't ask me again where we're going. All that matters is that I'll release you after your memory is altered. You'll be alive, which is more than anyone else would have done. Now finish cleaning up the galley."
    She glared at him, her chest heaving, but she didn't say anything further. Finally, she turned and began loading the sterilizer. Sabin slouched against the wall, watching her alertly. When the galley was clean, he insisted on patting her down to be sure she hadn't pocketed a potential weapon. She remained silent, although he could tell the brief search didn't sit well with her.
    When he was satisfied she was unarmed, he stepped back and stretched. "Time to turn in."
    "Where am I going to sleep?"
    Where indeed? He certainly wouldn't mind having that lithe body curled around him. The images unfurling in his mind sent shafts of heat through his body. It would be insanity to indulge in the fantasy. He didn't get involved with women. Besides, he didn't think his guest shared the attraction. Still, he couldn't resist saying, "You're welcome to bunk with me."
    She stood stiffly, her hands clenched against her thighs. "Do I have a choice?"
    He should be relieved the attraction wasn't mutual. Involvement with Moriah could bring nothing but trouble. Yet her obvious reluctance stung his male pride. "Don't try to resist too hard," he retorted. "Of course it's a choice. While you may think I'm no better than an Antek, I assure you I can control my baser urges."
    Her expression clearly showed she didn't believe him, which rankled even further. "Then I choose to have my own cabin."
    He'd been thinking about that and believed he had a way to contain her—with the intruder alert. He would set the alarms for the entire ship, including the motion detectors in the corridor. That way, if Moriah tried to leave her cabin during the sleep shift, he would know immediately. With her in her own cabin, he wouldn't have to worry about her while he slept. A good, albeit chaste, solution.
    He wouldn't tell her about the alert. It provided the perfect opportunity to see if she would try to pull anything during the shift. He motioned toward the cabin she'd stowed away in. "You can sleep in your old hiding place—that last cabin."
    Escorting her to the cabin, he showed her how the intercom worked, in case she needed anything during the shift.