Brigends (The Final War Series Book 1) by Russell Krone Read Free Book Online

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    He motioned for her to go.
    The pain returned to wreak havoc as she shuffled away, keeping her red eyes fixed on his boyish face. By now, the imbecilic yelling and stomping of hard boots from the stairwell ricocheted around the empty space. She went to a large window and climbed up on its sill just as the Vegas burst in, riled from their previous encounter. She freed her regard from Max and disappeared into the predawn air. The brothers ran to the window, but she was gone.
    “Muck ma madre ! Pendejo , yu let ‘er git away!”
    They turned to confront Max, but he was gone, too.
    “Yu, me, pendejo ! I hare du mal par you !” Globs of saliva sprang from Paz’s mouth as he spat his threat.
    Paco picked up a cold gun from the floor. It was Zoe’s. Max had no need for it.

Chapter 6
    Emil’s mission
     
    Emil looked up from the flat of his bunk at the metal seams of his cabin’s overhead. He had been trying for hours to sleep, but his mind was devoid of exhaustion. How he wished for his spectral lover to come and caress him. To his disappointment, he was without her for the first time in years. Thanks to her bittersweet absence, insomnia teased him unmercifully.
    The wall chronographer beeped the passing of another cycle. So much for trying to sleep, he joked.
    In the labor camp, sleep was a luxury the prisoners received by chance. During those rare intervals, they cherished it like the greatest fortune ever given to kings. Ironically, even in that situation, his soul could never find torpidity. No matter how hard he would try, slumber would deny him its gift.
    The last time he had a real night’s sleep was with her — the real her. They had slept naked in each other’s arms, not daring to budge for what seemed hours. The jasmine upon her skin mellowed him. Her lips rested on the softness below his earlobe and with each exhale of her warm breath, she sent electricity through him.
    That was the last time he had slept like a king.
    He got off the bunk and endured every twinge in his old body. He looked at the scars on his bare torso. Contrasting against the pale canvas, they told the story of the battles he had fought. He ran his hand over his chin whiskers, feeling much older than his fifty-seven years.
    His hand shuffled inside the desk drawer in search of a razor, but instead he found the red crystal exactly where he had stashed it. Had it been waiting for his attention? He didn’t pick it up; he dared not. Consumed by its luminescence, he remembered a little known fact: only a Zolarian could use the power contained within.
    But, how could that be true? The thing had called to him back at the camp. Why?
    Had he not suffered enough?
    Emil ignored it, hoping it would fade from thought. He found a razor tucked in the corner of the box. Retrieving it, he slammed the drawer shut.
     
    Life aboard the Crimson Bandit, like any other ship, was a set of routines. Every crewmember had specific duties and went about them with little or no complaints. While he strolled the cramped passages, crewmen snapped to attention. He returned a fatherly nod and they carried on with their tasks.
    Earlier in his career, he came to understand why the seafaring men of centuries past referred to their vessels as women. A ship is a home, a man’s symbol of safety and support. The golden rule of a healthy marriage applied: take care of her and she will take care of you. She’s an all-consuming lover, demanding more and more attention. As with a real woman, one must learn the rhythmic sound she makes when she’s happy, and just as important, her cries when she is in distress.
    The bulkheads purred from vibrations of a well-cared-for propulsion drive. To the uninitiated, the purring passed undetected, but to him it was as unmistakable as a satisfied lover’s heartbeat. She knew he was home and she was happy.
    He made his way to the galley. Relaxing at the far table was Adi, sipping coffee from a tin