Free Shadower by Catherine Spangler Page B

learned the hard way that good looks could cover a rotten soul.
    Besides, she needed to focus on placing a patch and escaping. The patch had to be positioned on bare skin, and required a full minute to take effect, which meant she had to place it without Travers being aware of it. She'd have to time it carefully.
    "I trust you slept well?" he broke into her thoughts, his intense perusal of her edging her pulse upward again.
    "Like a baby kerani," she assured him, willing her heart rate to slow.
    He paused, looking right above her shoulders. "You put it up." He sounded disappointed.
    She stared at him, uncomprehending. "Put what up?"
    "Never mind. Ready for the morning meal?" He stood back, and she led the way to the galley. She wondered if she should try to place the patch in the galley or wait until later.
    "What would you like?" he asked as they stepped inside. "Amargrain or protein sticks?"
    "We had that last night."
    "I like protein sticks and amargrain."
    Noting the overly nonchalant look on his face, Moriah placed her hands on her hips. "I'll bet that's all you know how to replicate."
    He shrugged. "So what if it is? You don't know how to replicate anything ."
    She had refused to learn. During the nightmarish time she'd been in Pax's clutches, he had tried to force her, but she had been pushed enough. She'd been determined to defy him in this one thing, even if it was small. As if it really mattered. Pax had already taken everything else.
    But now she was condemned to a diet of protein sticks and amargrain. She threw up her hands. "Got any prepackaged foods?"
    "If that's what you want. Look behind that panel there."
    So he wasn't going to turn his back to her for any reason. His caution would make planting a patch difficult. But she had learned the value of patience. She'd wait for the right opportunity.
    After they ate, Sabin took her into the cockpit, so he could check and send messages, and conduct his business, whatever that was. He set his secondary computer on read-only access to IAR— Information and Retrieval—so Moriah would have something to do while he worked.
    She half-heartedly scanned through data, covertly observing her captor. He downloaded a very large file and read it intently. She'd have liked to know what the file contained. But for the time being, she simply watched him. Strange, but now that she was reasonably certain Sabin wouldn't kill her or force his attentions upon her, she felt more relaxed around him. She began to wonder what made him tick. "So, what do you do?" she asked casually.
    He looked up, shaking away an expression of deep concentration. "You mean, when I'm not dealing with troublesome stowaways?" Clicking off his screen, he leaned back in his chair. "That's a good question." He steepled his fingers together thoughtfully. "I guess you could say I'm a trader—a merchant of sorts."
    She looked around the cockpit incredulously. "With this refuse crate? Where is your cargo?"
    "I unloaded the cargo just before I discovered you stowed away on my ship. I have to pick up more goods—after I deal with you. Those five cycles are really going to cost me, lady."
    More than you think, Moriah thought. Although she didn't see how he could consider his ship being confiscated such a great loss. She might even be doing him a favor. Not only that, Shielders certainly couldn't afford to pay him much for delivering supplies. Most of them were reputed to be destitute. Sabin must have other sources of income.
    "If you only deliver cargo to—to people like we just left, then I don't see how you can survive," she pointed out.
    His dark eyebrows arched. "People like we just left, eh? What sort of people are those?"
    Back to the lanrax-and-krat game again. "I certainly have no idea. But delivering supplies to small colonies can't be very profitable."
    "I do well enough."
    Which meant his activities were probably as illegal as hers were. "What kind of supplies do you deliver?"
    "Not supplies, necessarily.