Justin (12 page)

Deanna thrust the coffee into his hand. “If you want to go to the Vistara, better to let me drive you in a private car than get caught walking around up there. You were going to try to go again today, weren’t you?”

Yes
. “I was giving it some thought.”

“Then get in the car.”

Justin took a gulp of coffee. He grimaced, the brew cheap, even for Bor Nargan coffee, but it cut through the haze in his head.

Deanna walked off toward the car, giving him a nice view of her ass in the tight coveralls. He walked after her, trying not to stumble, and the passenger door of the car slid open for him. Saying nothing, Justin climbed inside.

This wasn’t a patrol car. It was a private conveyance, meant for a driver and a couple of passengers, nothing luxurious about it.

Justin drank his coffee in silence, though his pulse raced and his mind jumped from worried thought to worried thought.

If he didn’t talk, didn’t even say the word
Vistara
, Deanna couldn’t tell anyone, without lying, that he wanted to go to an area restricted to him. If she, a patroller, drove him up there, Justin couldn’t do anything about it, could he? Not his fault that a patroller dragged him through the district for reasons of her own.

Deanna slid into the driver’s seat, sealed the doors, and touched the controls. The hovercar rose, rather bumpily, and slid slowly through the crowded streets to the main thoroughfare.

Justin watched Deanna’s slim fingers tap controls as she programmed her destination. When she sat back to let the car take over, she reached into her coverall and pulled something out of her pocket.

“I’m guessing you’ll want that back,” Deanna said, laying Lillian’s scarf and her coded note about Sybellie in his lap.

“Shit.” Justin snatched up both, the silk of the veil soft on his fingers. “Where the hell did you get these?”

“From the compartment in your bedroom, behind your bed.”

“You searched my apartment?”

“You made me angry,” Deanna said. “So I did a search. I don’t know why, but it made me feel better. I found those. I couldn’t read the card, no matter how I tried to break the code, but the scarf was Lillian’s.”

“I know.” He stuffed card and veil inside his tunic pocket.

“It gave me an idea of how to trace her.”

Now fear joined the roiling inside him. “I told you, I don’t want you tracing her.”

“And I told you, I’m not going to tell anyone about Sybellie. It wouldn’t be fair to her.” She adjusted a control to move around another, slower, car. “I know why you’re worried, and you’re absolutely right.”

Justin opened his mouth then closed it again without speaking. He wanted to trust her, but he didn’t trust himself. He was forming affection for Deanna, the hot little patroller, who had so far proved that she didn’t mindlessly follow the rules.

And she was hot. Wait, did he think that already? Maybe he was letting his need for sex with her override his common sense.

Who was he kidding? Need for sex with her was absolutely messing with his common sense. Being in the close space with her, breathing her scent . . . His hangover was dissolving under a rush of need.

“What else did you find while you were searching my place?” he asked.

Her little, shy, sideways glance made his blood heat. “One or two things, in that wooden box. I didn’t understand what they were all for.”

Aw, she was so cute when she blushed. Deanna had lost her businesslike stance, and had once again become the woman who’d asked him to show her how to bring him off. “Make an appointment with me, sweetheart, and I’ll teach you all about the things in my magic box.”

Deanna’s blush deepened, and a for a moment, he thought she’d agree. But then she lost her smile and looked serious. “I wanted to ask you about your lifemate, Shela. She never had a child, did she? But obviously you can make one, and you wouldn’t have had the sterility inoculations on Sirius.”

The delightful thoughts of watching Deanna sift through his box of accoutrements while he showed her what each plug, strap, ring, and clamp was for, fled.

“No,” he said in a quiet voice. “Shela couldn’t. That was . . . hard on her.”

“I’m sorry.” Deanna sounded like she meant it. “You stayed with her, though. I mean, you knew you could have kids, but not with her.”

“Yes, I stayed.” He wondered what was going on behind those pretty eyes. “Not her fault, and I wanted to be with her. Why are you asking?”

“No reason.” She swerved the car up the last of the hill to the double street where the coffeehouse lay. “We’re here.”

Deanna pulled the car over, parking it behind hovercars in which Vistara women were driven half a block by their chauffeurs to go shopping. The coffeehouse was open and full, and the four young women sat at their table by the window.

Justin sat back in his seat and slowly let out his breath. Deanna had parked closer to the coffeehouse than he usually got to stand. The car’s tinted windows hid them from the passersby on the street, but unlike Brianne’s car, its windows didn’t have so much shielding that they blocked out the windows of the coffeehouse.

Justin saw Sybellie clearly. She laughed at something one of her friends said, her mouth open as she clenched her hands around her coffee cup.

She was so beautiful. Justin saw much of Lillian in her, but her eyes were the same shape as the ones that looked back at him from the mirror in his bathroom. The rose color she chose for her veils suited her, matching her pink lips and . . .

“She paints her fingernails,” Justin said in tender wonder. “Pink to match her veil.”

“I see that.”

He felt himself grinning like an idiot. “Am I supposed to say,
that looks nice, honey,
or tell her she shouldn’t spend all her time on manicures? Damn it, I don’t know how to be a father.”

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to say. I don’t have kids either.”

The sadness in Deanna’s voice tugged at him. “What did your mom say to you?” he asked.

Deanna glanced at her fingernails, which were smooth but short. “I’ve never had my nails done, so nothing about that. She did once tell me,
that’s a nice pistol, honey, but don’t spend all your time at the firing range.”

Justin had to laugh, even though her voice had gone sadder still. He rested his hand on Deanna’s thigh, liking the wiry strength of it, remembering her in the shower, her skin soft and feminine.

She was giving him a gift, he realized, letting him see Sybellie without interference. He was going to kiss her for that. And more.

Sybellie was telling her friends something, her eyes animated, hands moving as she related whatever was the funny story. He wanted to hear it, wanted to see her roll her eyes and say,
Dad
! when he asked her about it.

He wanted it so much it was killing him.

“It’s a hell of a thing,” he said softly. “I want to see her, talk to her, hug her—just
be
with her. But I also want to protect her. And I can only do that by staying away from her.”

He felt Deanna’s gaze on him. She was looking at him in understanding, sympathy even. No, she was definitely not like any other patroller he’d ever met.

The girls were leaving. The four of them walked out, pausing outside the coffeehouse to talk still more.

Justin couldn’t take his eyes off Sybellie. She was so young, so innocent and pretty. Lillian had been much the same, but Lillian had already been hardened when she was twenty, by having to grub for a living. Sybellie was soft, unused to the world, untouched. Free. Happy.

There was much hugging, and then two of the girls walked away, their arms linked. Sybellie and her other friend remained, still talking. At times, they both were talking at the same time without realizing it, and Justin laughed.

He watched her, his heart full, his daughter three steps away from him, and she never knew it.

Sybellie’s friend walked away, Sybellie waving. She scanned the street, as though deciding which direction to go. Her gaze swept over the car, not seeing Justin behind the tinted glass, not knowing he sat there, his entire being aching for her.

Deanna’s fingers closed around his and squeezed. Justin clung to her hand, glad she was with him, knowing she’d done this for him.

A man walked past the car, an off-worlder by his clothes. He stopped and looked at Sybellie. Justin noticed him only because the man took a few quick steps forward, put himself in front of Sybellie, and started talking to her.

A growl rose in his throat. Maybe the guy knew her, friend of her parents, or something.

But Sybellie was drawing back, giving him a look of distaste, and then disgust, then fear. She tried to turn away, but the man grabbed her arm.

Justin was halfway out of the car when Deanna’s full weight landed on him. “Justin, don’t you dare!”

Justin fought to untangle himself. “He needs to get the hell away from her.”

“I know. But let me.
Let me.
”

“Damn it, Deanna—”

Deanna let him go but locked the passenger door at the same time she opened her own. “You stay there. This is my job.”

Justin knew she was right. If he leapt out and accosted the man, he would be arrested, and Sybellie might be exposed. But he couldn’t just sit here . . .

Deanna was around the car, her stun gun held casually in her hand, her patroller’s swagger in place. Justin held his breath, but at the same time he felt a surge of pride as Deanna moved to the man and got right in his face.

That’s my girl . . .

*** *** ***

The off-worlder was the kind Deanna didn’t like—arrogant, superior-acting, so sure that Bor Narga, in spite of its advanced culture, was backward because it was ruled by women. Well, he was going to learn a thing or two.

Deanna stepped to him and used a practiced grip on his wrist to make him open his hand. The man winced, and his eyes widened in sudden pain, but he let go of Sybellie.

“What the fuck?” He had an accent, but he spoke Bor Nargan very clearly. It sounded like he’d practiced the swear words.

“Bor Nargan women aren’t to be touched without permission,” Deanna said in her crisp, Patroller First Class voice. “That’s on page two of your
Traveler’s Guide to Bor Narga,
which was handed out to you on your transport. You read it, right?”

“Hey, bitch, you shouldn’t touch
me
.”

He was red with anger, and Sybellie started to edge away.

“It’s all right,” Deanna told her. “He’s just a dickhead. Don’t disrupt your day because of him.”

The man went red with rage. “You should be polite to me, sweetheart, or you won’t get anyone else coming to this backwoods planet.”

“On page thirty-six, it says you can be arrested for being an asshole,” Deanna said. “Now clear off the Vistara before you tempt me.”

He tapped a badge on his tunic. “Fuck you.
This
means I get to go anywhere I want to on this rock.”

“
That
is a Class Three pass. Meaning you can go anywhere you want as long as you follow Bor Nargan law, which includes obeying any directive given to you by a patroller. If you disobey my directive, I get to stun you, arrest you, put you in detention, and then throw your butt
off
this rock.”

“What are you going to do, sweetie, put me in cuffs? Maybe I’d like that.”

Why when Justin teased her about handcuffs, did Deanna blush and go hot, but when this man said it, she wanted to kick him?

Maybe because when Justin said it, she knew he wanted to play and to pleasure, to make her feel good. This guy didn’t like women at all.

“I don’t need the cuffs.” Deanna stuck the barrel of the stun gun into his ribs. “If I squeeze this trigger, you’ll be out for a couple of hours. Maybe longer. When you wake up, you’ll be in a cell or maybe already on a transport. How long you’re unconscious depends on what setting I have my stun gun on, and you know, I can’t remember which it is now. So, you can either get off the Vistara and stay close to wherever you’re billeting, or I stun you and process you. Your choice.”

The man glanced at her gun, then at the passersby who were frowning at him, clearly on Deanna’s side.

He took a step back but pointed his finger at her. “I’m reporting you, bitch.”

“Please do. I’ll be interested to read my stationmaster’s report.”

With a final growl, the man turned on his heel and stalked off. He’d never looked again at Sybellie, which had been the whole point.

“You all right?” Deanna asked her.

Sybellie let out a shaky her breath. “Remind me not to visit his planet, wherever it is.”

“There’s probably a sign posted to approaching craft—
Warning, assholes ahead.
”

Sybellie laughed, her mouth quirking in a way that reminded Deanna of Justin.

“Thank you for helping me,” she said. “I wasn’t quite sure what to do.”

“You did fine. And never be afraid to call out for a patroller.” Deanna glanced at the car where Justin waited. She couldn’t see through the window, but she imagined Justin glued to the glass. “Would you like a ride somewhere? In case the guy doesn’t clear out fast enough?”

Sybellie looked down the street, worried and hesitant at the same time. “If it’s not too much trouble . . .”

“Not at all. It’s my job to make sure citizens of Bor Narga are all right.”

Sybellie let out another breath. “I’m on my way to the university.”

“Easy. Come on.” Deanna led the way around the car, opening the small back door for her.

When Deanna slid into the drivers’ seat, Sybellie was settling herself in the back. Sybellie glanced curiously at Justin, who sat on the far side of his seat, against the door, looking poleaxed.

“Don’t mind him,” Deanna said as she sealed the doors and lifted the hovercar. “This is Justin. I’m giving him a ride too.”

Justin couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Sybellie was sitting two feet from him, separated from him only by the seatback. Deanna calmly tapped controls to move the car quietly down the street, the air cooler kicking in to make the car a livable temperature.