Free Stealing Mercury (Arena Dogs Book 1) by Charlee Allden Page B

Grateful for her habit of wearing her deck-boots at all times, she slogged her way back down the corridor. The moment the grav-generators came back on, she dropped to the floor. Gasping for breath, she counted the seconds until the oxygen levels normalized.
    She needed Drake to believe she’d dropped on the way to the controls, that she hadn’t yet made it to the pilot’s station, so she pulled her body around until she lay face down as if she’d dropped on the way forward. That done, she lay there, gulping air, and waited.
    After a few minutes it got easier to breath and the darkness at the edges of her vision receded. The sound of boots stomping toward her echoed along the corridor like the thumping pistons of a transgalaxy engine.
    Drake lifted her up and set her on her feet. “What in hell was that?”
    “Told you.” She panted, exaggerating for effect. “Environmental contols are acting up. Help me get to the pilot station so I can take a look.”
    Lifting her arm over his shoulder, Drake dragged her to the empty seat and shoved her into the synth-upholstered polycarb. Drake cuffed her across the side of her head and she saw stars. “Get it fixed. We don’t have time for delays.”
    She tapped in a few commands then realized he still stood looking over her shoulder. “I’m trying, so lay off.”
    “Get it stable,” he said. “Then we’re going to talk about your pointless stunt.”
    Samantha cringed. Damn it, if he knew what she’d done—
    A loud thump jerked her attention back to Drake and the fist he slammed onto the console beside her. “What in the hell were you thinking, getting between me and my Dogs?”
    “I-” Samantha stuttered, unprepared for the accusation when she thought they’d caught on to something far worse. “I didn’t want to see anyone get hurt.”
    “You have no fucking idea what you’re dealing with.” He paced, hands raking through untidy hair.
    “I swear they must put out some kind of pheromones. Women back on Roma fall all over themselves to get at them.”
    She didn’t know what to make of that, so she counted to five then tried to ratchet down the tension in the room. “Listen. Let’s calm down. I don’t have time to deal with whatever drunken craziness is sloshing around in that whiskey soaked brain. I need to deal with the ship.”
    Drake’s attention fixed on Samantha with a laser focus that made her squirm in her seat.
    “Your sympathy is wasted on those animals.”
    Resler grunted from the corridor where he’d appeared. “Yeah, just ask that sexy brunette who tried to get cozy with Diablo. She was a knockout until he got a hold of her.” Resler used his sleeve to blot away the smudge of blood on his forehead. He must have hit his head when the ship jolted. “Maybe we should throw this one in with that devil. We could make a bet on whether he slashes her up or fucks her.”
    Drake frowned. “Don’t be vulgar.”
    Samantha wanted to shout pot meet kettle , but the sound of his own condemnation seemed to shake Drake. He leaned against the nearest wall, letting his head thunk back against the bulkhead.
    Samantha watched, relief easing her breathing, as Drake smoothed hands over his hair, scratched at his beard and shook himself before standing straighter, all traces of the wild man of moments earlier gone from his eyes. It was as if Resler’s crudity had snapped him back from the edge of some dangerous precipice.
    “I’m a respectable business man,” he said. It wasn’t clear if he was talking to Samantha or reminding himself. “Just doing a job. I thought you’d respect that, Sam. We both know the value of hard work, you and me. I’m not the animal on this ship. Those Dogs are the animals and they’re my responsibility, not yours.”
    He thought he knew her. He couldn’t be more wrong. She wasn’t like him—only out for himself. He’d read her file and thought that told him everything he needed to know. She might have come up hard, but her