Escape Velocity (Off-World Series, Book 7): Sexy Science-Fiction Romance Novel Read online

  Escape Velocity

  (Off World Series, Book 7)

  A Futuristic Romance Novel

  REBECCA YORK

  Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York

  CONTENTS

  DECORAH SECURITY SERIES

  OFF WORLD SERIES

  PRAISE AND AWARDS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  AFTERWORD

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CONTACTS

  COPYRIGHT

  Excerpt of FIRE ON THE MOON, by Rebecca York

  If you enjoy Escape Velocity, you might also like to read other Light Street Press books by Rebecca York:

  DECORAH SECURITY SERIES

  Book 1. On Edge (a Decorah Security prequel novella)

  Book 2. Dark Moon (a novel)

  Book 3. Chained (a novella)

  Book 4. Ambushed (a short story)

  Book 5. Dark Powers (a novel)

  Book 6. Hot and Dangerous (a short story)

  Book 7. At Risk (a novel)

  Book 8. Christmas Captive (a novella)

  Book 9. Destination Wedding (a novella)

  Book 10. Rx Missing (a novel)

  Book 11. Hunting Moon (a novel)

  Book 12 Terror Mansion (a novella)

  Book 13. Outlaw Justice (a novella)

  Book 14. Found Missing (a novel)

  Book 15. Preying Game (a novel)

  Book 16. Boxed In (a novel)

  Book 17. Hollow Moon (a novella)

  Book 18. Can She Get Home for Christmas? (a novella)

  Book 19. Fire on the Moon (a novel)

  Book 20. Hunter (a novel)

  Decorah Security Collection (an anthology including Ambushed, Hot and Dangerous, Chained, and Dark Powers)

  And if you liked Escape Velocity, you might enjoy other Rebecca York science-fiction romance books:

  OFF WORLD SERIES

  Book 1. Hero's Welcome (an off-world series short story)

  Book 2. Nightfall (an off-world series novella)

  Book 3. Conquest (an off-world series short story)

  Book 4. Assignment Danger (an off-world novella)

  Book 5. Christmas Home (an off-world short story)

  Book 6. Firelight Confession (an off-world novella)

  Off-World Collection (includes Nightfall, Hero’s Welcome, and Conquest)

  PRAISE AND AWARDS

  New York Times and USA Today best-selling Author

  Two-time Rita finalist in the prestigious RWA writing contest

  Recipient of two RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Awards

  Recipient of the RWA Centennial Award

  Prism Award winner

  Affaire de Coeur Critics Choice Award for Contemporary Novel

  “Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense.” ~Nora Roberts

  “Rebecca York will thrill you with romance, kill you with danger and chill you with the supernatural.” ~Patricia Rosemoor

  “Rebecca York’s writing is fast-paced, suspenseful, and loaded with tension.”

  ~Jayne Ann Krentz

  Chapter One

  Maxwell Cassidy had a bad feeling about this gig. Every instinct told him to turn around and head for some other planet. Any other planet. But he’d promised to pick up a mysterious package on Naxion and deliver it to his friend Rafe Cortez in Port City on Danalon.

  He put the Golden Fleece into low orbit around the dark planet, checked the coordinates for the rendezvous point, and then sent a brief burst of syllables to the men who were supposed to be waiting for him.

  The quick reply didn’t necessarily reassure him. There was always the possibility of an ambush when you played outside the law. And this trip definitely fit that description. Naxion was off-limits to normal contact. But Rafe had promised Max that the Feds would look the other way.

  Before powering up the shuttle, he checked the charge in his beamer and set it on half power. If he got into a fight with these guys, he preferred not to add a murder charge to smuggling.

  After taking care of a few more strategic preparations, the last thing he did was pull on the synthoskin mask Rafe had told him to wear. It covered his whole head and featured a collection of bumps and warts that would have sent a garamonster scuttling for cover.

  “They don’t look like us,” his friend had said. “Better to fit in as best as you can.”

  He shuddered at the ugly visage that stared back at him in the mirror, then grabbed the bag of gems he’d brought as payment for the contraband and secured it to his belt.

  Satisfied there were no more precautions he could take, he climbed into the shuttle craft. As he approached the surface, he saw patches of low vegetation, massive forests, walled compounds in widely separated locations, and gaping swaths of land that looked like they had been blasted by giant energy beams. Probably true, because the word was that factions on Naxion had been fighting for decades—one of the chief reasons the planet was off-limits. At least in this area, there were no cities, only isolated strongholds.

  He would have preferred to sneak up on the rendezvous spot, but there was no way to hide a small craft coming down like a meteor from a wide yellow sky. Too bad rock outcroppings were the only cover.

  He flew over a group of people clustered twenty meters outside a circle outlined with small rocks—a landing marker that could easily be broken up to disguise the purpose. The tactic told him something about the meeting. It was probably just as illegal for the natives to welcome an offworlder as it was for him to be coming down from orbit.

  The reception party all wore long, hooded cloaks. Three raised their heads to stare at him. One kept his face down.

  Not far from the group was a wooden wagon pulled by what looked like an ox. Oxcarts and energy weapons—an interesting combo.

  Circling the area, Max noted the mucky patches around the landing spot and wondered why they hadn’t found a better place. He checked to make sure nobody else was hiding within shooting distance, then set down behind some huge boulder that separated him from the designated landing spot.

  After opening the shuttle door and securing it behind him, he stepped around the natural barrier and faced the group of four.

  Three of them threw back their hoods and looked at him expectantly. The third was still hiding his face.

  Max struggled not to gasp as he took in the appearance of the welcome party. Any of them could have stepped out of a children’s nightmare. All were short and wide, with the blotchy red faces of skin cancer victims. Adding to the nauseating effect were the various-sized lumps that dotted their skin, He’d thought the mask he was wearing was hideous. It was nothing compared to what these guys woke up to every morning.

  One of them took a step toward him and spoke in heavily accented standard speech. “You bring . . . payment?”

  “If you have my merchandise,” he replied. He was outnumbered, and he didn’t like the confident look in the alien’s bloodshot eyes. This guy
was sure he had the situation under control, and he was planning something tricky.

  “Show.”

  “Where’s my package?”

  “No package. Kawanda.”

  Another of the men pushed the hooded figure forward.

  At the rough shove, the captive almost lost his balance and fell in the mud. As he fought to steady himself, Max saw his hands were secured behind his back.

  Fates, what was this guy? A criminal? Or just dangerous? And what the hell did Rafe want with him?

  He wavered on his feet a few meters away.

  Unprepared for this new development, Max blinked. “The cargo is a person?”

  “Dung to us. Valuable—to you.”

  “Gods,” he muttered. He’d come here for merchandise. What kind of exchange was this anyway?

  “You no want?”

  His immediate reaction was, No want. He’d thought he was bringing expensive goods back to Danalon, and he hated the smell of this deal. His best guess now was that the bound man was a slave.

  The idea of human trafficking made Max sick. He wanted to turn around and head back to his shuttle. But that could be dangerous under the circumstances. These men were expecting payment. Not only that, what would happen to the prisoner if Max rejected him?

  He silently cursed his friend Rafe for getting him into this mess. What he said was, “Okay.”

  The victim shuffled forward on his own, still with his head down. He was taller than the rest of the ugly crew. When he reached Max’s side, he spoke in a barely audible whisper.

  “They mean to kill you. And sell me to another trader.”

  Max blinked, his gaze flicking from the sellers to the prisoner and back again.

  “You have Kawanda. Where is payment?” the spokesman demanded, his voice turning hard.

  Glad that he hadn’t already handed anything over, Max fumbled for the pouch at his belt. He saw their greedy eyes follow his movements as he detached the small carry bag. With subtle pressure from his fingers, he loosened the drawstring at the top. Then in one swift movement, he grasped the sack from the bottom and gave a mighty swing of his arm, scattering the jewels in all directions. Some bounced on hard ground, others sank into thick muck.

  The sellers gasped. Dropping to hands and knees, they began scrabbling around to recover the precious rocks.

  Max pulled out his beamer with one hand and clamped the other hand firmly around the captive’s arm.

  He hauled him back toward the rocky outcropping, steadying the guy to keep him upright.

  As they drew even with the boulder, an energy blast drilled into the stone beside his head. He returned fire, hearing what must be a curse as he hit one of the assailants.

  He kept firing, hoping to hold the bastards at bay as he rounded a boulder, then pressed his hand to the lock plate beside the shuttle door. It glided open, and he pushed Kawanda inside.

  He’d closed the door behind them when the three pug-ugly natives surged around the outcropping, firing at the shuttle. And their beamers were not on half power. He could hear the metal of the small craft sizzling as he fired up the engines. Praying they hadn’t hit anything vital or punctured the skin, he took off.

  For a heart-stopping moment he thought the continued fire was going to take him down.

  He used the onboard guns to lay down his own deadly spray, which drove the marauders back around the natural shield, where they crouched to make themselves smaller targets. No longer in immediate danger, he rose far enough to clear the atmosphere, then set the controls for auto-return to the ship.

  He was sweating under the damn full-head mask. Ripping it off, he tossed it into the cargo area behind him. When he turned back to the shuttle controls, the figure beside him gasped.

  “What?”

  “I did not believe the stories. But you are like me.”

  “Like how?”

  The guy shook his head, trying to dislodge the hood, but he couldn’t do it with his hands secured behind his back. “Wait a minute.” Max use a folding blade to cut the bindings.

  The captive rubbed his wrists. They were thin and covered with red marks from the bonds. Below them, narrow hands and slender fingers ended in ragged nails. They didn’t look like a man’s wrists or hands. And now that Max thought about it, the voice was much too high for a man.

  “Thank you.”

  Curious, he reached up and pulled back the hood. It was his turn to gasp. He was staring at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  Chapter Two

  He stared at blue eyes like twin swazi pools framed by thick lashes, a delicate face, a perfect little nose, and lips that held the promise of sensuality.

  “Sagan’s balls. What the hell is going on?” Max growled. Those trolls keep gorgeous women captive?”

  She made a scoffing sound. “Do not mock my ugliness.”

  Max struggled to make sense of the absolute conviction in her voice. “You are not ugly. Far from it.”

  She kept her gaze on his face. “Are you trying to trick me?”

  “No.”

  He saw her grappling with his words—and his reaction. “On Naxion, I am one of the unfortunates—a hideous parody of my race.”

  He grimaced. “Maybe on Naxion, but not in the rest of the known universe.”

  She stared at him, taking in his features, then raised her hand and touched the blade of his nose, the skin of his face, running her finger over the stubble on his cheek, the curve of his upper lip, sending a shiver through him. Her voice had taken on a note of wonder as she said, “You have no beauty bumps.”

  “Beauty bumps! Is that what they call them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank the gods I don’t.”

  “This is not a dream?” she whispered.

  “No. It looks like I rescued you from a nightmare.”

  She nodded slowly, as he asked, “But why are you different from the rest of them?”

  She looked down at her small, white hands and spoke in a low voice. “I do not know. I was from a highborn family, but when I failed to develop properly, I was sold into slavery.”

  He whistled through his teeth. “You are saying everyone starts out with smooth skin—like yours and mine?”

  “Yes.”

  He thought about how it could happen—and an explanation struck him. “Then I’m guessing there’s some virus or bacteria in the air or water on your planet.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “Most people catch a disease and get ugly. Since there’s nothing they can do about it, they flip the notion of normal on its head and punish the ones who have natural immunity—who escape the disfigurement.”

  Her eyes widened. “You call it . . .. But on Naxion, I am a slave, only good to be worked to death. What am I in the rest of the universe?”

  “Like I told you, a very beautiful woman.”

  The shuttle had reached the ship and docked with a small vibration.

  He made sure the air locks were in alignment, then opened the hatch.

  “I thought your ship was so small.”

  “This is only the shuttle,” he answered as he helped her inside before pressing the mechanism that slid the ferry craft to its bay on the underside of the Golden Fleece.

  “We cannot linger here,” she said. “They may shoot at you.”

  “Why? I paid them.”

  “They are the worst of the worst. You got the better of them, and they will hate you for it.”

  When the pressure in the air lock had equalized with the ship’s interior, the far door opened, and they stepped into a short companionway. Now that she was inside the Golden Fleece, he wasn’t sure what to do with her. But he was sure her advice about getting the hell out of Naxion space was sound.

  He saw her looking around wide-eyed, then press her hand to a metal wall and run her fingers along the surface.

  “So smooth.”

  Her reaction told him something about the technology on Naxion, but t
here was no time to explain what to expect in the Confederation of Planets as he led the way to the cramped control room and took the pilot’s chair. As he scanned the view screens, he saw a fireball blossom on the surface not far from where he’d set down the shuttle.

  “Fek,” he muttered as he powered up the engines. “Better sit down,” he advised, gesturing toward the copilot’s seat.

  He no longer needed the screen to see the energy beam looming in the blackness, hurtling toward them from the planet’s surface.

  There was no time to set a course. All he could do was fire the thrusters, jerking the ship out of orbit. As the Golden Fleece leaped from its previous position, the energy ball shot past, so close that he could make out the wavering colors in the fire trail. He spotted another on the way, but he was already heading outside the planetary system. When he knew they were out of range, he let out the breath he was holding and set a course toward Danalon, although he still wasn’t sure what he would do when he got there.

  Turning toward his passenger, he saw she was clutching the arms of her chair.

  “We are really away from Naxion?” she whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “And you are not going to take me back?”

  He heard the quaver in her voice as she asked the question.

  “Of course not,” he answered, still trying to rearrange his thinking. He’d come down here expecting to pick up a clandestine package, and instead he’d rescued a woman from slavery. But what did Rafe want with her? He could think of several possibilities, and he didn’t much like any of them. This woman would be an undoc on Danalon, which meant she had no legal rights.

  “How did you learn the standard language?” he asked.

  “I told you, I belonged to an upper-class family. I had extensive training in many skills. I can play the harp, sing the classic songs of my people, do fine embroidery.” She paused and laughed. “I embroidered pillowcases for my wedding chest—until it was clear I would have no wedding.” She started again, speaking very fast. “Which makes my training for overseeing household accounts or running an estate of no use.” On the last words, her voice broke, and he could see her struggling for control. She drew herself up straighter. “My education was of no importance once I failed to develop. I saw the sadness in my mother’s eyes. She would have hidden me. But nothing takes place on my planet without the permission of a man. My father couldn’t stand the sight of me. He sold me to a traveling slaver.”