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

Maros was a ploy."
"Why?"
"I told you I had my suspicions. An old Class-III freighter armed with ion cannons.
A captain with a story of helping the Lifari for pay. A drive malfunction that could be
corrected with the inputting of a code known to every bartender in civilized space."
She raised her eyebrows on that one.
"I knew there was some reason you were here, Moran. It just took time before I
found out why."
Her mind raced. "How far are we from the border?"
"I can return to your original coordinates within the hour."
"But will you?"
He looked at her with an air of condescension. The teasing, mocking tone was back.
"Do you truly think I would pass up the chance to strike at the T'Sri?"
"No." She could provide him with a means to glory. "So where do I fit in?"
"Oh, so you want to work with the Jhen now." He took the half-empty glass from
her and placed it next to the water jug.
"I want Pajtok dead, Jhen-Aris. I've decided the rest doesn't matter." If the Jhen
were going to kill her later, so be it. But at least she'd see the Emperor-Elect in hell
first.
She stood shakily, her knees still weak. She felt his hand grasp her arm to steady her,
then move around her waist. He pulled her against him. She looked up into
blue-white eyes that were no longer cold, and she wondered, not for the first time,
exactly what else Jhen-Aris was after. And damned her erratic Lifari talents for
providing her no answers.
Evidently, she wasn't the only one with questions.
"Can you be trusted, Moran?"
"About as much as you can."
Something sparked in his eyes, crackled again in the air between them. She felt his
arm tighten around her. Then his hand moved up, his fingers threading into her hair.
His mouth came down hard against hers, his kiss forceful, intense.
She responded, her mouth opening, suddenly wanting the taste of him. She felt his
breath, hot on her cheek. The roughness of his face scraped her jaw.
She pressed herself into his heat and hardness. Passion, desire flowed over her. And
the spider ran up her spine once again, not with ice skates, but a flamethrower.
His wrist-com trilled a short cadence into her ear and Ty wrenched back into reality.
This was Jhen-Aris. The Jhen-Aris. She stumbled out of his arms, shaken.
He was breathing heavily. He tapped at the wrist-com. "Jhen-Aris," he said in
acknowledgment, and reached for her.
She backed up another step.
A quick spate in Jhenian, words and numbers sounding like coordinates.
He repeated the information tersely and clicked off.
"Ty'mara. Forgive me. I'm ... misbehaving."
"Damn straight. Use of my ship doesn't grant you use of my body."
He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "That's not what I intended."
She could almost believe him. If he weren't Jhen-Aris. If she didn't so clearly see
herself as a pawn in a game between two deadly powers: the T'Sri and the Jhen. His
soft words and kindly actions could be nothing more than another ploy to ensure her
cooperation.
Though admittedly the name Jhen-Aris was linked more with military strategy then
seduction. She was wary, nevertheless.