Starflight (Starflight, #1)(15)

“Don’t talk like that. It’s probably just a debris field.”

But then a force of energy passed through her—a vibration, like she’d pressed her whole body to the shell of an engine. The fierce, rattling hum settled in her joints. Her teeth clattered together, making her lips go numb. The discomfort stopped as abruptly as it had begun, but it left a lingering impact because she recognized the sensation. She’d felt it before, several months ago, when she’d tried to run from the Enforcers. It was a cautionary blast, a threat before they fired real ammunition. And if memory served, the Banshee would only get one more warning. Her heart pounded and jumped into her throat.

They’d found her.

“Did you feel that?” Doran asked, gawking at his hands. “It was like a million bees crawling over my skin.”

The sickening buzz passed through her again. Solara opened her mouth to cry out, but she didn’t get a chance. The ship turned sharply and rolled to the left until she was hanging upside down by her harness straps. A discarded cup clattered against the ceiling, making her grateful the furniture was bolted down. The floor trembled with something new, and then a horrible screech rent the air as the ship rocketed forward with enough force to glue her limbs to the wall.

Now she understood why the ship was called Banshee.

The room lurched and spun for what felt like an hour before it came to a sudden halt.

Solara shook her head to clear it. Had they landed?

All motion seemed to have stopped, but dizzy as she was, she couldn’t be sure. The captain’s voice blared through the intercom, and the urgency in his tone sent a pang of fear through her. If a man like Rossi was anxious, it must be bad.

“We made an unplanned stop,” he barked. “All hands report to the bridge.”

Solara’s left arm was pinned awkwardly beneath the harness strap, so she brought her free hand to the buckle and fumbled with the release button. She had to find a place to hide from the Enforcers. Kidnapping was a capital offense, and Doran hadn’t been lying when he’d said his family had connections in the Solar League.

Cold sweat slicked her hand, causing her grasp to slip from the fastener until she whimpered and tugged at the strap. She turned to Doran and said, “Help me out of these buckles.”

But instead of making himself useful, he sat there with a palm clapped over his mouth, swallowing in noisy gulps like he might lose his supper.

As Solara wiped the sweat from her hand, panic morphed into anger. She should’ve known better than to rely on Doran Spaulding in a crisis. “Never mind,” she shouted. “I’ll figure it out myself, since you’re totally helpless.”

Doran wrenched his head around and fired an all-too-familiar glare at her. “I’m not helpless, and I do matter!” He flinched as if he’d startled himself with his own words, and Solara did the same—because he’d just responded to something she’d said on board the Zenith.

“What?” She pretended not to understand him while praying it was nothing more than a fluke. If his memory had returned, there was no point in running. He would lead the Enforcers right to her. “Where did that come from?”

Twin lines appeared between his brows. “I don’t know. It just slipped out.” His tone sharpened when he added, “But don’t say that to me. I’m not helpless.”

“All right.” She released a breath and sat back, pointing at her straps. “Show me.”

With surprisingly deft fingers, he unfastened his harness before scooting over to start on hers. But as soon as he reached out, he paused with his fingertips suspended an inch from the buckles. A bloom of color fanned out across his cheeks, and he nervously licked his lips.

Solara glanced down and saw the problem. There was no way to free her from the tight straps without touching her breasts. She rolled her eyes. He was awfully prudish for someone who’d left his girlfriend’s thong in the elevator.

“This isn’t the time for modesty,” she told him. “Just do it.”

He got to work, and within seconds, she shrugged out of the harness and stood up. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her, and she gripped the wall for support. It took a few moments for the dizzy spell to pass, but then she regained her focus and opened the bedroom door.

Doran peeked over her shoulder into the dim hallway. “What now?”

That was the million-credit question. Solara didn’t know where the ship had landed or what she would find beyond the doorway, but anything was better than cowering in her room. Steeling herself, she led the way into the hall.

“Now we move.”





No free vacation was worth this.

Doran’s stomach heaved and his mouth flooded with saliva, but he gulped hard, willing himself not to vomit as he followed Lara through their rusted tin can of a ship. He hated small spaces like this. The metal walls seemed to shrink, contracting around his rib cage until he had to close his eyes to draw a lungful of air. He knew the sensation wasn’t real, but that didn’t make it any less painful.

For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she’d booked passage on the Banshee instead of a luxury liner. This ship was a dump. He shouldn’t have to share a room with anyone—or sleep on the damned floor. Hell, his second apartment was larger than this piece of dung.

Wait. Second apartment?