Heart of a Warrior l-3 Page 4

  “No, actually, it’s rather smart of them. That sector of space is uncharted, but there are solar systems in it, and there are rumors of at least one planet that’s inhabited. But one planet in an entire solar system isn’t worth putting them on a trade route when their system is so far off the beaten track, so no official World Discoverer has bothered to head over that way to verify or discount the rumors. But Jorran would want a target that is very far out of the way. This would pretty much assure him that no other offworlders would be conning around to mess up his plans.”

  “Just how far off the beaten track are we talking about?” Tedra asked.

  “Unknown data.”

  That was too abrupt, even for Martha, reminding Tedra that Martha based her probables on known facts, and rumors didn’t fan even remotely close into that category. Martha hated being wrong about anything, after all, and rumors could be proven false.

  So Tedra rephrased her question. “What’s the general speculation, based on the rumor?”

  “Three months for a Trader, five months for a World Discoverer.”

  “Three months even under gaali speed? One way? No one travels that far anymore without several stops along the way. Fuel isn’t needed, but world communication is. Wars can be fought and won in three months, entire worlds can disappear in three months. No one likes being gone so long that when they come back, nothing is as they left it.”

  “World Discoverers are a spoiled lot, Tedra, and you know it The Centura League would never have been formed if the old school thought like that, because the old school didn’t have such, high speed available to them. A year, two years was nothing to them, if it meant discovering a new world. Three months away would have been considered a short trip. Of course, today’s three months is equivalent to more than a few years of travel back when space was first explored, but there’s no need for a history lesson you’re already familiar with.”

  “Three months-six months round trip.” Tedra was looking at Dalden now and shaking her head. “You realize that’s just travel time, doesn’t count the time it will take to stop Jorran, reverse any damage he does if he can’t be stopped before doing any, and find and destroy all the rods? This could conceivably take a year or more. You aren’t going, and that’s my final word on the subject.”

  5

  �� ^ ��

  BRITTANY DIDN’T GET TO THE SHOPPING MALL OFTEN. Parking wasn’t usually a problem, though, since Seaview wasn’t a big town. It had only just gotten their first enclosed mall last year. Today, however, parking was a problem, and Brittany found out why when she got inside. The mayor was using the large community stage in the center of the mall to make a campaign speech. It was an election year. Mayor Sullivan was running for his second term.

  The town was only four years old, so Sullivan was the only mayor it had known so far He’d done a good job as far as Brittany was concerned, so he’d get her vote again. The town was growing at a steady pace thanks to him, which meant job secur��ty for her in her field of construction, so he could be forgiven for campaigning on a Sunday, her only day off.

  Brittany even stopped to listen to him for a few minutes, though from the sidelines. Crowds like the one gathered around the center stage were things she tended to avoid, hating that penned-in feeling where you couldn’t move without bumping into someone. Such crowds made her stand out like a sore thumb with her height, and getting rudely stared at was guaranteed to put her in a foul mood

  Actually, she hadn’t been in the best of moods since her breakup with Thomas Johnson. She’d even given some thought to moving. But she was weIl settled in Seaview now, had a roommate she got along well with, even though Jan still tried to fix her up with dates that she didn’t want. And she was meeting her goals here, was on schedule, would be able to quit her jobs and build her dream house in two more years.

  She lived and breathed for that day, counted every penny, begrudged every worn-out purse and dented hard hat, not just because they cost her extra money but because, unlike some women, she actually hated to go shopping. And she had put off today’s shopping excursion for two weeks now. But having to wash her work jeans every other night because three pairs had finally reached the irreparable stage with their worn-out seats was a pure waste of time, and she hated wasting time more than she hated shopping.

  She had expected to be in and out of the mall in under an hour. She hadn’t counted on the mayor and his campaign staff being there to draw her interest briefly. But she wasn’t hearing anything she hadn’t already heard on the six o’clock news, which she tried to catch each day while she ate dinner. She did have a few hours between jobs to eat, shower, take care of the daily chores she shared with Jan, or whatever else couldn’t wait until Sunday. Her spa job was from seven to ten at night, giving her no time for other than another quick shower and bed when she got home from it.

  Brittany was just heading around the outer fringes of the crowd in the direction she needed to go for her favourite jeans shop when she saw him and did a double-take. Bumping into the person in front of her stopped her completely and she didn’t even think to apologize, she was so amazed at the man’s height. How had she missed seeing him work his way into the center of that crowd when her eyes were aIways drawn to tall men? You couldn’t miss him He stood more than a foot taller than everyone else there.

  Had he been sitting down and only just stood up? There could be some chairs in the center of the crowd, she supposed. For that matter he could be standing on one-no, she’d see a bit of waist if that were so, but all she was seeing was some incredibly wide shoulders and a golden mane of hair that reached them. And that wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity, which was why she quickly worked her way to the sidelines, to catch a glimpse of his face.

  Brittany didn’t realize that she’d been holding her breath, or was filled with anxiety, until she got that better look at the man and sighed long and loud in relief The worry had been natural, because although her eyes were constantly drawn to tall men, they were usually disappointed as well. There had only been a few tall men over the years whom she had actually been seriously attracted to, and only one whom she had come close to losing her heart to.

  Thomas Johnson she would never forget, because he’d crushed her thoroughly in proving just how hard it was going to be for her to ever find the right man. She’d really thought he was it. Her instincts had said so. She’d even been willing to go all the way with him, though she could be grateful now that their relationship hadn’t progressed that far before she found out that even he had a problem with her height. She was a good half a foot shorter than Tom, but that was still too tall for him. Damn jerk must have a thing for midgets had been her unkind thought before she’d shown him the door.

  But this guy, surrounded by a sea of shorter heads, was absolutely gorgeous. And despite her immediate attraction, that sent off alarms in her head. Anyone who looked that good couldn’t be that good. There had to be something wrong with him Her instincts might be saying otherwise, but she could no longer trust them after Tom.

  He was too young for her, that was it. Actually, it wasn’t that he looked young-it was hard to look young when you were that big. It was more that: he just didn’t look old enough. Of course, age didn’t matter much these days, when people were smart enough to have figured out that compatibility and common interests were much more important for holding a relationship together.

  Brittany could apply that concept to her height problem as well, if it wasn’t such a big bone of contention with her. And if she was going to hold his age against him, then she ought to find somewhere to sit down and work on getting her pulse rate back to normal, because it was definitely leaping about in maximum attraction mode at the moment.

  He wasn’t listening to the mayor’s speech, he was looking around as if he were lost, or didn’t know what he was doing there. Brittany was still searching for something wrong about him when she realized that his expression had abruptly changed, was the very pictur
e of a man about to panic. Claustrophobia bigtime was about to happen.

  She didn’t doubt it, nor did she think twice before she barged her way in through the crowd, grabbed his arm, and dragged him a good distance away. Her good deed for the day. It had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to meet him, and her rescue was a perfect excuse to. But she should have read the Girl Scout manual more thoroughly, because she must have missed the section that warned that: good deeds just might change your life forever.

  6

  �� ^ ��

  RESCUES DIDN’T ALWAYS WORK OUT AS PLANNED. SOME of them that you thought were rescues might not even be so, might turn out to be intrusions instead.

  This was Brittany’s first thought when she turned to face the man whom she assumed she had pulled out of the jaws of his own personal hell. She had expected at the very least some gratitude, but she got merely a curious once-over from him. How deflating. Not that it mattered, when she was struck dumb by her own amazement.

  Up close and personal put her system into overdrive. She never thought she’d see the day when a man might be too tall for her.

  But goodness, seven feet tall and properly proportioned for it!

  The rest of him that she could see now, from the shoulders down, defied description. She was used to bulging muscles after three years working in a spa, but the muscles on this guy seemed natural rather than a result of strenuous exercise. Everything about him was big, and yet a right kind of big. You couldn’t create and mold that kind of physique, you had to be born with it.

  He was also dressed in high fashion-heck, he was wearing what you might expect on a rock star, actually. A wraparound tunic with no buttons, belted at the waist, and a soft metallic blue in color. His black leather pants weren’t the least baggy, nor did they have visible seams that she could find.

  If she didn’t know better, she’d think those pants had been poured on him, they were so skintight. Leather boots of the same color, with flat heels-no artificial height here-and just as softlooking, went up to his knees. The fat medallion that was visible in the very deep V of his neckline, hanging from a thick gold chain, appeared mystic in design. It was plated to look like it was made of solid gold, which of course it wouldn’t be, when it was the size of her fist in roundness and nearly as thick.

  He had a fancy-looking little radio attached to his wide belt, with all kinds of buttons on it. At least she assumed it was a radio, since it had a thin cord plugged into it that ran up to one of his ears, one of those miniature earphones, she supposed.

  Her thorough examination of him came to an abrupt end when he spoke to her. A deep rumble. Foreign. The accent was strong, distinctive; she just couldn’t place what country it might be from.

  “Do you require something of me?” he said.

  She blushed, something she strived never to do, because pink cheeks just didn’t go well with copper hair. “No,” she answered, “and maybe I should apologize. You looked like you were having a claustrophobia attack.” At his blank stare, she added, “You know, hemmed in by the crowd and panicking because you can’t find your way out-never mind. I thought I was helping, but obviously not.”

  He seemed to pause to listen to the music coming out of his earphone for a moment before he replied, “Ah, you assisted me. Now I understand, and offer my gratitude.”

  He smiled at her. She wondered if fainting was allowed in the mall. Good god in the morning, find something wrong with him, girl, before you fall instantly in love.

  Now that he had relaxed, with that incredible smiles that almost doubled his appeal, his amber eyes said he liked what he was seeing, which thrilled her to the core. But then, as looks went, she had some nice ones-aside from her height. At least, constantly being hit on despite her height confirmed what her mirror said.

  She had big breasts, dark green eyes that could turn murky or be crystal clear, and a thick mass of bright copper hair inherited from her grandfather that no beautician could quite match in color. Some nicely defined bones went with the package for a combination that was loosely termed a knockout. She wouldn’t go that far in describing herself, but was glad she had a few nice features to make up for that last half a foot of height she could have done without.

  They were staring at each other when they should be talking, or at least getting past all the standard first meeting info, like name, profession, number of children they planned to have, and so on. And since he wasn’t making the effort, that left it to her to get the ball rolling on getting acquainted, not something she had much experience at, since American men had that sort of thing down pat. But it was either that or let him walk away and never see him again, which at the moment was out of the question.

  So she started from the top, telling him, “I’m Brittany Callaghan, and you are?”

  “Sha-Ka’ani.”

  “Excuse me?”

  The volume must have gotten turned up by accident on his radio, because even she could hear the tinny-sounding screeching coming out of his earphone that made him wince. He yanked it off his ear, held it a moment while he glared at it, then attached it again.

  “I understand now it was my name you requested. I am Dalden Ly-San-Ter.”

  Brittany grinned at that point. “Let me take a wild guess. That’s not a radio, but some kind of language translation recording you’re listening to?”

  “It does indeed assist me in understanding this language of yours that I have just learned.”

  “Just learned? You speak it amazingly well for only just learning it.”

  “Yet do I not have a translation for all of your words. Some require an explanation.”

  “Yes, I can see where brand names and slang might throw you off, as well as first names sounding like countries, like mine does.” She took another guess on the next subject. “So, did you just get signed up for pro basketball?” A blank look. “Uh-oh, if that didn’t translate, then you can’t be a professional player, though if you stay in this country long enough, the scouts will probably find you. Sorry for the assumption, but we don’t see seven-footers every day, and those we do see tend to all be players-”

  “I am not seven feet tall,” he corrected her in a serious tone.

  She chuckled. “So who’s counting an inch or two when you’re that tall? Not me.”

  “Is my height a problem?”

  “Not a chance. Your height is absolutely perfect, just what the basketball scouts are always on the lookout for.” Herself as well, though she didn’t add that, and he didn’t seem to be understanding anything she was saying again. “Never mind, I don’t think I’ve got it straight yet in my head that you’re not American. Heck, basketball might not even be a sport in your country. Where do you hail from, by the way?”

  “Far from here.”

  She grinned. “That’s obvious, but how far? Europe? The Middle East? I don’t recognize your accent, and I’d thought television had done an admirable job of introducing us to the full range of foreign accents.”

  “My country would be unknown to you.”

  She sighed. “You’re probably right. If Shaka-what-you-called-it is its name, I’ve never heard of it. But then, geography was never my strong point. Are you just visiting America, then, doing the tourist thing?”

  “My time here will be brief, yes.”

  Another sigh. “Well, hell, so much for getting married.” His blank stare this time brought on a chuckle from her. “Don’t panic, that was just a joke to loosen you up. You don’t say much, do you?”

  She blushed as soon as she said it, because she hadn’t been giving him much chance to say anything with her nervous, nonstop chatter. A foreigner. Of all the rotten luck. But if they were growing them like this overseas, perhaps she ought to add a trip around the world to her goal list.

  Her disappointment was almost a physical ache. Just a visitor. He’d have to leave the country when his visa expired. She’d never see him again��� but that wasn’t confirmed yet. His “brief” might only
refer to Seaview. Foreigners did still move to America and apply for citizenship these days. Marriage worked wonders in cutting through that red tape, as well. She wouldn’t ask, didn’t want it confirmed, that he was just passing through.

  “I will have much to say to you when my task is done here,” he said.

  She blinked, having forgotten her question. And those words sounded so promising, they managed to push her disappointment to the side.

  “No time for socializing? Man, does that sound familiar,” she remarked. “What task?”

  “I seek a man. His name is Jorran, though he may call himself by a different name here.”

  “Are you a foreign cop, or a detective?”

  “Is that what is required to find him?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt.” She grinned. “Detectives have that find what’smissing-thing down pat. I don’t think we have any in Seaview, though. Plenty of lawyers and even a pawnshop, if you can believe it. But there wouldn’t be much work for a professional detective in a nice quiet town like this. If this guy’s a criminal, you can always ask the local police to help.”

  Screeching came from his earphone again, when his hand was nowhere near the unit to have adjusted the sound. What a strange translator-or was it? It seemed more like someone was actually talking to him through it, with the occasional yell thrown in, coaching him on what to say.

  “Police would be more hindrance than assistance, when they would ask questions that would lead to many more questions, and have no understanding of the answers.”

  “That complicated, huh? Well, your best bet for finding a detective who won’t ask too many questions is to head to San Francisco. “

  “There is no time for detours. Nor is the assistance I need of a complicated nature.” His amber eyes seemed to glow for a moment before he added, “You could help me.”

  Brittany’s pulse rate sped up rapidly. His tone and look implied something other than help. “I could?”