"Linnea Sinclair - Gambit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sinclair Linnea)

GAMBIT
Linnea Sinclair



gam*bitтАУn.--a strategic move in an Olde Terran board game,
in which a pawn or a piece is offered in exchange for a favorable position.
тАФ Intergalactic Heritage Dictionary, Ninth Edition


-1-
THE AIR in her cell was cool and fresh. The padded bench almost comfortable,
even after a three-hour wait. Not much worse, Ty'mara Moran reassured herself, than
most spaceport transit offices.
Then the silver-haired man walked into her cell, and fear skittered up her spine like a
spider on ice skates.
She knew him, not that they'd ever met. But she knew him just the same. Knew the
dark uniform of the Jhen. Knew the row of two gold stars over three denoting the
rank of Senior Huntership Captain. Knew of eyes so ice-blue they were almost white,
and legendary for their hardness. The eyes, the rank, and the legend belonged to only
one man: Kirand Jhen-Aris.
Now so did Ty'mara.
She silently translated his curt command to the guard. "This is alpha priority. Leave
us."
The force field behind him snapped back to full power, blanking her cell's entryway,
framing his tall form with an opaque whiteness. His clipped Jhenian accent
highlighted the sardonic tone in his voice.
"It appears you've stumbled into someplace you don't belong, Captain Moran."
That statement, Ty noted, pretty well summed up her entire life. She shrugged.
"Wasn't my choice to come here."
"No? Then tell me. Who made this choice for you?"
"You did."
He frowned. "I fail to see how I'm responsible."
"I sure as hell didn't tractor my ship into your docking bay. Or throw myself into this
cell. You're the one who insisted--"
"I insisted because you and your ship are somewhere you don't belong." He clasped
his hands behind his back. "Why are you in this sector?"
She drew one leg up on the bench, rested her arm on her knee as if this were nothing
more than a casual conversation. Her heart hammered in her chest. "Just lucky, I
guess."
Too late she saw the flash of anger in his eyes. He grabbed her arm, pulling her
forward on the bench. "I don't have time for your games. Why are you here?"
She twisted abruptly away from him and he lost his hold on the soft, pliant material
of her flightsuit. In four steps she was across the cell.

"I had my reasons," she said when he made a move in her direction.
"Which are...?"
"None of your damned business!"
She regretted her words immediately.
He crossed the distance between them in two long strides, forcing her to back up the