Hijacked by Lolita Lopez
Chapter Three
The second Misko spotted the barefoot blonde, he recognized her even before his software identified her. Camila Velders. A daughter of trillionaire Xavyer Velders. A close relation to the emperor. A perfect hostage.
He didn’t believe in fate, but it was a curious coincidence that their escape shuttle, limping along with only a few percentage points of power remaining, had crossed the path of her space yacht. Hijacking the ship had been an idea borne from desperation and the lack of options. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy. A ship this size should have had dozens of crew members, but it appeared to be in flight with only the bare minimum.
Maybe fate isn’t so outlandish after all.
Skittish like a cornered animal, Camila stumbled backward. Her fight or flight response had kicked in, and he groaned. Not wanting to waste precious moments chasing her down, he warned, “Don’t run!”
She didn’t listen. She raced toward the open elevator at the end of the corridor. Her bare feet slapped on the polished blue floor, and he sighed with annoyance before running after her. She made it to the elevator car before he did and tried to activate the emergency protocols to close the doors. She realized too late that the entire ship was in lockdown, all of the systems shuttered until the captain provided the proper code.
Or until we break it. Which wouldn’t take long. As cyborgs, their processor implants could connect to any wireless signal. Standard data encryption was part of their software, and it hadn’t been decommissioned during their arrest.
The blonde bent down, reaching into a box, and he wondered what she might have in there. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t expect the wine bottle that she swung at him as she whirled around with a scream. He blocked it at the last second. Glass and alcohol exploded between them. His sensors detected the gash in his arm and started sending nanobots to repair the area. She cried out in pain as the bottle sliced her hand.
To his surprise, she didn’t let go of the broken bottle clutched in her bloody hand. She screamed again, her green eyes glittering with fury, and tried to stab him. He evaded her clumsy, angry attempts and gripped her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her yelp. The glass neck of the bottle fell from her hand and shattered on the floor. She jerked away from him, desperate to tear free, but he held tighter and dragged her close.
“Stop fighting!” His thunderous order echoed in the corridor, and she shrank away in fear. “You will sustain additional damage.”
“Fuck you!” She stunned him by clawing at his face, dragging her impossibly sharp and very purple nails down his cheek, tearing open his skin.
He hissed at the pain and snatched her other wrist. As if trying to handle an unruly toddler, he lifted her from the ground. She didn’t stop fighting. Instead, she kicked his shins and then wailed at the agony of slamming her bare toes into his reinforced skeleton. Not even that doused the fire within her. She locked her surprisingly strong legs around his waist—and bit his neck.
“Woman!” He snarled as her teeth sank into him, trying to tear his shirt and skin. She didn’t manage it, but she left a stinging mark. He ignored the bizarre frisson of heat that streaked down to his groin as she bit him. He tangled his fingers in her long hair and yanked her head away from his body.
Like a wild animal, she went for his arm, biting down hard enough that he let go of her wrist. She dangled in his hold and clutched as his shirt to halt her fall. Her nails scratched at his neck and chest, and he lifted the arm he still held higher in the hair. She jerked hard to free herself, and he was honestly surprised she didn’t dislocate her shoulder flailing like that.
Having had enough of her violence, Misko grabbed the socialite by the neck. Her eyes widened in panic, and he realized she thought he was going to strangle her. He shifted his hand, gripping her jaw instead, and forced her to meet his stern gaze. “You will stop fighting now.”
“Or what?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“Or I will put you to sleep,” he answered matter-of-factly.
She gulped at the warning, her throat moving against his palm. Sneering, she vowed, “If you hurt my crew, I’ll spend every fucking credit to my name hunting you and everyone you love.”
“Luckily for me, I’m not capable of love.” He swung her up and onto his shoulder. She punched him twice in the back, but he ignored her futile attempts to stop him. Without the satisfaction of knowing she had hurt him, she stopped trying and sagged against him. He suspected she was only saving her energy to try to kill him later. It was exactly what he would do.
Glass crunched under his heavy boots as he pivoted back toward the stairwell. By now, the others would have secured the bridge and taken the crew under control. Not for the first time, he missed the open network that had allowed all cyborgs to interact. The connections with his brothers, Cable and Marks still existed, of course, because they belonged to the same pod. Having the ability to easily connect to the cyborgs who had joined them during the escape would have been useful now. Perhaps it was something they could hack later.
As he carried Camila upstairs, he became aware of her scent. The hyperacuity of his nose allowed him to separate the delicate smells mingling on her. A sour bite of wine. A hint of vanilla and strawberries. A burst of citrus and cedar. He couldn’t understand why his brain was wasting precious resources cataloguing her scent when there were more important things to calculate.
He also couldn’t understand why his heartbeat was higher than usual, or why he had the strangest urge to run his hand from just above her knee to her upper thigh and even higher. He pushed down the unwanted and disgusting urge. He had no right to touch his prisoner like that, to touch any woman in a sexual way without her consent.
Not that he had much experience in those types of situations.
“Looks like you found something interesting,” Branko remarked as Misko stepped onto the bridge. His brother cracked a smile when he spotted the bloody tracks on his face. “Caught a hellcat, did you?”
He frowned at his brother, never understanding his need to make jokes in times of high stress. “Is the bridge secure?”
Branko’s smile faded, and he was all business. “Bridge secured. Crew secured. Civilians are currently being moved onto the ship.” He motioned toward the live feed on one of the monitors. “Andro will be removed last and taken to the infirmary.”
“Is there a doctor on board the ship?” Misko asked with a flare of hope.
His brother shook his head. “No nurse or medic either.”
“What about the lockdown?” He noticed the female pilot—Gretta—working on the system. “Any progress?”
“The captain refuses to give us the override,” Gretta answered, her focus remaining on the console in front of her as her fingers flew across the keyboard. Even though she wasn’t a cyborg, she had a gifted mind and experience with these types of programs. She spun around in her chair and placed a hand on her very round belly. “There’s a master override in the system.”
Misko felt his hostage stiffen, giving away her connection to that override. “Her?”
Gretta nodded and pointed at the far wall. “Retinal scan.”
Camila repeatedly punched him in the back. “I’ll stab both my eyes out before I help you filthy criminal shitheads!”
Tired of her bratty mouth, Misko dropped Camila without warning, letting her know exactly how much use she had to them. He didn’t want to hurt her, but if he had to choose between saving his brothers, his fellow cyborgs and these women and children, he wouldn’t hesitate to use some of the uglier skills he had learned during his many years of combat.
She grunted in pain as she hit the floor and then tried to kick him in his groin. He deflected her bare foot and noticed the blood and glass jutting out of her bare sole. She didn’t seem to pay her injured foot or hand any mind as she scrambled away from him.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Branko snatched her up and set her on her feet, drawing a hiss from her pouty mouth. “Come over here and let me see those pretty eyes.”
She yanked free from his brother’s grasp and slapped his hand. “Get fucked, you walking tablet!”
Branko laughed. He leered at her in a way that made Misko feel a rush of anger and jealousy. “You offering?”
“You couldn’t handle me,” she shot back, startling Branko who then guffawed.
“I hope we don’t have to kill her,” Branko said, obviously amused. “She’s fun. I want to keep her around.”
“Stow it,” he snapped at his brother. Stalking toward Camila, he boxed her in against his brother’s chest. When she could go no further, he retrieved the knife he had scavenged from the emergency supplies in the escape pod and flicked it open to reveal the gleaming blade. Holding it close to her face, he glared down at her. “If you don’t override the system, I will cut out your eyes and vent you into space with your crew.”
She swallowed nervously, her fearful gaze darting from the knife to his face and back. A flutter of regret and a stab of shame invaded his chest. He had never in his life treated a woman like this, enemy or not. Even though it was necessary to save the lives entrusted to him, he didn’t like it.
“You fucking wire-brained psycho!” She looked ready to spit in his face. “Fine. You want control of this ship? I’ll give it to you. Good luck escaping the mercs my father is going to send after you.”
He didn’t doubt the Velders patriarch would unleash hell to get his daughter back. If not from a place of fatherly love, from a need to save face and make it clear that no one could attack or steal his property.
“Get that knife out of my face!” Camila hissed furiously. “Or you’re going to be the one who needs a new retina.”
It wasn’t an empty threat. She would fail, of course, but she would try to stab him in the eye if she had the chance. For some reason, he respected her even more for it. Except the longer he stared at her flushed, angry, stunningly beautiful face, the more he really wanted to disrespect her. Up against that wall, for instance. Or bent over that navigation table.
Unsettled by the filthy thoughts racing through his mind, Misko ran another systems check as Camila stomped to the retinal scanner. She left a trail of bloody footprints, and he felt a pang of guilt that she was injuring herself further. As she scanned her eye, his system check came back clear except for the blip of a fault in the emotional sector of his brain. That had to be the origin of his unwelcome thoughts and feelings.
“Happy?” she asked rudely as the ship’s control returned to the bridge.
Misko ignored the blonde harpy and joined Gretta at her console. “Clear the SOS beacon the captain sent before we boarded. Send out a malfunction and fault notice on the same signal. Let’s try to minimize our interaction with other ships.”
Turning to his brother, he asked, “What is the flight plan of this craft?”
Branko had moved to the navigation table and flicked the destination up into the 3D holographic space above the table. “Falonissa.”
“The resort planet?”
Branko nodded. “There are no stops on the flight plan. They altered the navigation route after crossing into the debris field from the explosion of the prison transport ship. We have thirty-seven hours before the ship is expected to dock.”
“It’s enough time to figure out our next move. Secure the crew in their quarters. Cut all communications below the bridge level. Block all outbound signals.” He made sure to give the orders to Branko, knowing his brother would complete them without delay. “Have Oona sweep the decks for stragglers. Have the others find food and quarters for the civilian women and children.”
“And you?” Branko asked, his gaze moving toward Camila.
He followed his brother’s stare. Camila shrank back when she realized they were both studying her. Finally, Branko said, “I think it’s time to interrogate our hostage.”
