Free Beneath a Trojan Moon by Anna Hackett Page B

engines flare to life. Oh, no.
    Relda tried to tap her abilities again. There . Just a small flare. The poison had worked out of her system just enough. “I’m sorry, too.” She pulled as much energy to her as she could and tossed it at the man.
    He flew backward, light flaring around him. He hit the wall, his head making a sickening crack against the metal. He slumped to the floor.
    She looked up at her chains. She stared hard and watched as the silver links turned faint yellow then flared to molten orange. The chains broke.
    She fell forward onto her hands and knees and barely stopped her face hitting the smooth floor. She felt the throb of the engines through the floor. Not long to takeoff.
    Standing, she scanned the room. She needed some clothes, she needed the Trojan Moon, and then she was getting off this ship. She found the smooth panel of a storage cupboard. Inside were some silver jumpsuits.
    She might want Hunt’s strong arms wrapped around her, but—she bit her lip—she knew she couldn’t keep him. She’d made a mistake here, letting people close. She didn’t want them hurt because of her.
    Suddenly, the ship lifted off the ground.
    No!
    ***
    Hunt ran toward the sleek, silver cruisership. He could see its engines were already running and it was seconds away from takeoff.
    He was still thirty meters away when it rose into the air.
    “No!” he roared.
    He lunged forward, hot steam bathing his face. Hasan gripped his arm and pulled him back.
    Hunt’s heart was a cold, hard rock in his chest. He couldn’t lose her.
    Suddenly, the ship—only ten meters off the ground—lurched sideways.
    His lungs constricted and the crowd—mostly Souk market stall owners who’d come when they’d heard Relda was in trouble—gasped.
    He got a quick glimpse of the starboard engine. It was overheating.
    The ship slammed into the ground, taking out a nearby freighter with a crunch of metal before coming to rest tilted sideways like a spaceport drunk after a binge.
    Hunt broke free of his deputy. As he neared the ship, he saw a cargo door open. And a slim figure leaped out.
    His steps slowed. The woman striding toward him wore a silver jumpsuit with bright blue accents. Her dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, which threw her face into stark relief—high cheekbones, strong jawline and those eyes, glimmering with red flames.
    There was no sign of the flirtatious fortune teller or even the sensuous woman he’d made love to.
    This woman was the powerful Vega-Lyran.
    As she neared, the starships either side of her shifted along the ground, moving out of her way. A wave of power emanated off her, making Hunt’s skin prickle.
    The crowd behind him went deathly silent.
    “Marshal, a Timothy Li is in the ship. You’ll want to arrest him, Deputy Westin, and the rest of Li’s men.” Her voice was toneless, her face cool and composed.
    She might be some mythic psionic race, but she was still Relda. His Relda.
    Hunt grabbed her shoulders and pulled her into his chest. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re okay. When I saw the apartment…” His throat closed up.
    Her body softened for a second, leaning into his. “I’m fine. Barely a scratch.”
    He breathed deep and under the crisp smell of the jumpsuit, he smelled her. That addictive spice.
    Then she pulled back. The flames in her eyes has dimmed. “Hunt—”
    There was the sound of rockets firing. They both turned and saw a small, one-man, escape ship launch from a hatch on the crashed cruiser.
    “Damn it.” Relda swore. “Timothy Li.”
    “I’ll put out his description on the Patrol watchlists. We’ll find him.”
    Relda shook her head. “He has the Trojan Moon.” She glanced at Hunt with her otherworldly eyes. “I can’t let him get away with it and…he knows what I am.”
    She threw one glance at the crowd. At the people she’d called hers for four years, and even through the flickering red, he saw the flash of