The Huntress by Michelle O'Leary Read Free Book Online Page A

escape. I can still do this with you drugged and strapped in, but it leaves more room for error.”
    Before he could answer, the door slid open and revealed Regan dancing impatiently outside. When she saw Terrik, her face lit as though a sun had turned on behind those big eyes. “Terrik!” Her running start faltered and her face blanched when she saw the bloody mess of Mea’s arm. Her eyes turned back to Terrik. “Did you do that?”
    Warren snorted. “No, that was the Huntress’ own damned fault!”
    Mea thought that her android might just make a good floor mat.
    “Is it bad?” Regan asked in a tiny voice when Mea passed her.
    “Don’t worry about it, honey. Think of it as stage dressing.”
    “Huh?”
    Mea didn’t bother to explain—no time. Regan fell into place beside Terrik with Warren bringing up the rear while they made their way to the control room. When they entered, Mea gestured Terrik into a seat at the back of the room. “Let’s get some samples.”
    He just stared at her, not moving.
    “It’s a little late for second thoughts, tiger. I’m in this too deep to let you have a choice, so either you sit or I knock you out and strap you down.”
    Warren moved in close behind him. “I can’t hurt you, but remember that I can restrain you.”
    Regan took his hand, little fingers folding tightly around his. “It'll be okay. She won’t hurt you.”
    Mea had suspected it was for the child’s sake that he hadn’t tried to escape. When he looked down at the girl and sat, she felt certain of it.
    Mea pulled a panel over and tapped on it as he leaned back into the cushion. “Try not to tense up. It’ll only hurt more.” He sat back up, and she put a gentle hand in the middle of his chest, pushing him down with a chuckle and trying not to show how much she enjoyed the feel of his hard-muscled chest. “Just kidding. Warren, if you’ll take over here?”
    Mea sat in the pilot’s chair and ran her fingers over the panel to her right. A screen slid into view, flickering briefly before a man’s face appeared. He had a stern, rugged face with gray streaking his dark hair and lines fanning out from his eyes.
    “Yeah? Oh, Mea. You look like shit, Hunter.”
    “Thanks, Boss. You’re a dream come true yourself.”
    “Got a full load?”
    “I’ve got more than that and trouble besides. I think Bragan’s gone over the edge or at least he’s teetering there.”
    “What happened?”
    She turned so that her shoulder was fully visible. It was a gory mess. “I didn’t cut myself shaving.”
    He swore imaginatively and at length.
    “Look, Boss, much as I love your way with words, I don’t have time to take notes. I want to get off this rock before he decides to try again.”
    “Are you filing a formal complaint, Hunter Brin?”
    “I am. He needs a stop at the psych office if not pulled from active duty outright.”
    He rubbed the back of his thick neck for a moment, conflicting emotions chasing across the rough lines of his face. Then he slumped, seeming to lose whatever internal battle he was waging. Leaning forward with a fearsome scowl, he asked in a low voice, “How bad is it?”
    Mea rolled her eyes. “For god’s sake, Uncle Mike. If it was bad, would I be sitting here talking to you?”
    “I worry about you, girl. You take too many chances.” Sitting back, his craggy features hardened into uncompromising lines. “You be in my office with a full report the second you get back, you hear me?”
    “You’ve got it, Chief.”
    “And get that arm fixed, Hunter. You’re makin’ a mess.”
    Shaking her head in amusement, she flicked the screen off and jumped up, striding quickly to a panel on the wall. “Almost done?” she asked, pulling a coagulation pack from the receptacle and securing it over her wound.
    Warren was lifting the retinal scanner away from Terrik as she spoke. “Not a hitch.”
    “Great. Regan, strap yourself in. We’re getting off this rock.” Pushing the girl gently to