From the instant she’d met him, this man had touched her in a deep, lasting way that contradicted his moniker of “Stone Cold.” People believed him to be an emotionless cyborg, but she knew better.
Miranda shivered with pleasure when he nuzzled her ear, her throat, her shoulder. His lips were soft, his jaw slightly raspy, and he ignited tingles with every stroke, every kiss. Her head fell back, and he buried his face against the crook of her neck. His warm breath chased away the cold shadows of her past.
She ran her fingers through his hair, then spread her palms over his muscled chest. Beneath his shirt, his skin burned hot.
He caressed her, touching with a reverent urgency, exploring her shoulders, arms, spine, the curve of her waist, and her derriere. He hesitated before slipping a hand around to her front and covering a breast. She arched into his palm as he thrummed the hardening nipple. She gasped. “I guess you don’t regret it now.”
He stared into her eyes, his breath warming her cheek. “Why would I regret it when you’re all I’ve been thinking about?”
Her breath caught in her throat. He’d thought about her? A surge of joy skipped along nerves.
“I’m older than you,” he said.
“So?”
“I’m a cyborg.”
“So?”
“Some people consider cyborgs more machine than human.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head. How could he think that?
“You make me feel…alive in a way I haven’t felt in a long time,” Dante said, and her heart soared.
A flush darkened his cheekbones, and his eyes blazed. He lowered his head and claimed another plundering kiss that rendered her breathless. Then he planted a quick, hard kiss to her mouth and set her away from him.
The laboratory tilted as if the ship rocked from side to side, but the Crimson Hawk glided through space perfectly level. She was off-kilter.
This man with the brooding eyes and stony features smiled so gently, she about melted into a puddle at his feet. He stroked a finger down her cheek. “You have come to mean a lot to me. Let’s finish up with Sparky, and we’ll go someplace and talk, okay?”
Sparky! She’d forgotten all about him.
“Okay. I’d like that.” Her lips throbbed. She hoped “talk” was a euphemism. While she straightened her clothing, Dante did the same, and with his fingers, combed a semblance of smoothness into his hair.
Then he strode to the lockers and pulled open the nearest one. It made a rude sucking noise as it popped open. “Airtight seal,” he explained with an amused grin, but then frowned. Filled to capacity with equipment and supplies with no apparent organization, it appeared as if someone had crammed as much stuff inside as he or she could.
He rooted around, but did not find what he needed. “This is unacceptable,” he growled at the mess, and she silently agreed, surprised by the disorganization. Military vessels and installations were supposed to be neat and tidy; everything had a place, and everything was in its place. The second cabinet, equally packed and in disarray, also failed to produce the needed equipment.
Somebody’s going to find himself or herself on KP duty. She covered a grin.
The door of the third stuck—not surprisingly, considering the state of the lockers.
“Something is jammed against the release lever.” Scowling, he gave the handle a hard yank.
The locker sprang open, and a body tumbled out.
Chapter Five
The bloodied, mangled, bloated body of a woman hit the floor, and Miranda screamed. “Oh, my god! Althea! That’s Althea!”
Dante grabbed Miranda against his chest and swung her away to shield her from the gruesomeness of the decomposing corpse. “Don’t look.”
A sickening sweet odor of decay floated off the remains.
She squeezed his waist. “I can handle it. I need to see.” She’d probably witnessed worse on Verde Omega during the invasion, he realized and released her.
“I can’t believe it. How could this have happened?” She covered her nose and mouth with her hand and looked up at Dante.
His mind, assisted by his cyborg circuitry, began processing pertinent data. “The last time you saw her was about four days after you boarded the Crimson Hawk, correct?” he asked, recalling what she’d said when she’d approached him in the observation lounge to report the disappearance.
“Yes—when Sparky scared her.” She glanced at the K9-500. It was sitting on the table, its access panel open, still connected via cable to the code reader. “Could she have been dead that long?”
Judging from the state of decomposition, he’d guess so, but only an autopsy could pinpoint the time and cause of death. Insects did not exist in space, but when a person died, his or her own bacteria and enzymes broke down the body. The big question was, had Althea been alive or dead when the colonists had been counted?
“We’re going to find out,” he told Miranda grimly and tapped his commlink.
“Yes, captain?” the chief medical officer responded.
“We have a ninety-four in the robotics lab.”
“A crewmember is dead?”
“No, a colonist.”
“What was a colonist doing in the robotics lab?”
“That’s one of the questions. First, I need a time and cause of death. We have a homicide on our hands.”
“Homicide! Not an accident?”
“No,” he said grimly. “I want a full postmortem. Get me as much information as you can, as quickly as possible.”
How the hell had this happened on his ship? It seemed unfathomable that a crewmember could have done this—but it was equally unlikely that a colonist could have slipped by security and gotten this far. But hadn’t Miranda insisted all along that colonists had been disappearing? What if she was right? What if there were more? She’d counted nine people as missing.
“I’m on my way,” the medical officer said.
Miranda stood next to Sparky, petting him in a self-soothing way while keeping her face averted from Althea’s body.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, but he had to deal with this situation. “You can wait outside in the corridor. You don’t need to stay in here.”
“I’m okay. Do what you need to do.”
Next, he notified security, ordered a full investigation, placed the Crimson Hawk on yellow alert, and stationed additional guards in the New Utopian area. Then he contacted Lieutenant Commander Brack. “Get Mr. Ochoa and meet me in my consult room.”
“Is there a problem, captain?”
“A New Utopian has been murdered.”
“That’s horrible!” she gasped. “How? By whom?”
“Those are the questions.”
After disconnecting, he went to Miranda and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry about your friend.”
She hugged his waist. “Who could have done this?”