Chapter 11
She lay still, staring at the ceiling, wishing sleep would come. They'd decided to stay up until after they'd landed. She wasn't sure what to make of that conversation. He'd invaded her space, tricked her into admitting more than she was ready to, but his last sentence just blew her away. 'You make the first move whenever you're ready.' How the hell does he know? She sighed and rolled onto her side, now staring down at the door. She watched it open slowly, satisfied the creak was still gone.
"Can't sleep either?" she asked. He shook his head.
"I didn't think you'd be awake," he said quietly. She shrugged, pushing herself up to sit on the side of the bed.
"Me neither," she replied. "Wish I wasn't." He smiled, sitting next to her. "What's the plan for while we're on Mena?" she asked.
"Got some business. You've got some shopping. Mostly it'll be down time." She nodded. "Not much major repair I know of."
"What about the superficial crap?"
"What's left?" She snickered.
"Depends on what you'll let me get away with." His eyebrow rose. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm not going to paint or anything."
"What do you want to do then?"
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Rugs maybe."
"That's all?"
"I guess there's not all that much left," she said quietly. "What are we going to do with our spare time when all the repairs are done?"
"Work out," he said. "Sleep. Eat." She smiled. "Have deep, philosophical conversations." She shook her head and gave his arm a light smack. "What?" He pretended to be hurt. "You always complain about having nothing but cheesy, superficial conversations."
"I know," she replied. "But you don't have to make fun of me."
"I'm not making fun. I'm totally serious," he insisted.
"Oh, okay." He noted her sarcasm with a smile. She closed her eyes, and he just watched for a while until a smile slowly spread across her face.
"Something funny?" he asked, watching her eyelids rise slowly.
"Just listening," she said quietly. "I'm learning to deal with silence that way." He nodded slowly, his eyebrow still quirked.
"Still there?" She nodded. "Told you." She sighed and stood.
"I'm gonna get put together," she said, stretching lazily. "Want me to pick anything up while I'm out?" He shrugged. "Do we need anything?"
"I don't think so."
"I'll check before I go," she said, heading toward the bathroom.
"Wire strippers and another set of pliers."
"Okay," she called from down the hall. He heard her turn on the water before rising and heading to the cockpit to do another syscheck, just to make sure he hadn't missed any repairs before they had to leave.
His eyebrows rose involuntarily as she walked past the kitchen to go down to the cargo hold. She saw him staring and stopped, changing her course to grab something to munch on before leaving.
"What's the deal?" she asked, digging through the cabinets.
"I figured you'd revert back to your old style," he said, hoping he sounded as tactful as he tried to. She shrugged.
"I thought I'd try the tomboy chick look." He nodded, glancing over her again. Baggy cargos and a tight black wifebeater. He He ," she said quietlShe pulled it off, and he wasn't sure that was such a good thing.
"It suits you," was all he said. She turned to look at him, a bemused expression plastered across her features.
"'It suits me'?" She repeated. He nodded. "Is that a good thing?" she continued, turning back to her search for food.
"Yeah," he said slowly, as though unsure. "Be careful though." She let the cabinet door close loudly and continued on to the next cabinet.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, pushing through boxes of snacky things that didn't appeal. "Don't we have any fucking animal crackers on this thing?"
"Animal crackers?"
"I'll stop and get some." She turned to him, leaning against the counter. "You were saying?" He thought quickly, trying to remember what she'd asked. "'Be careful'?" she reminded him.
"Yeah, be careful." Her eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "Look, Jack. I know you think you can handle yourself, and you can – to a point." She took a breath to argue, but he continued. "But you haven't been in public as a female, and looking the way you do, you might run into some trouble you don't expect." Her mouth remained open, as though she still intended to say something, so he waited. She shook her head and forced it to close. He chuckled. "You're hot, Jack. What can I say?" She flushed crimson and turned to go. "Jack." She paused. "Want some company?"
"I can manage."
"Well, hold on a second." She leaned against the hallway wall, and he jogged down to his room, returning with a set of wireless coms, handing her one. "Any problems, let me know." She took it from him with a reluctant sigh. "I'm serious, Jack. Mena's relatively safe, and I stress 'relatively'." She nodded and slipped the com into her back pocket. "And make it as quick as you possibly can. Get some fuel on your way back, too." She glanced up at him.
"I thought you were fueling up while I'm gone."
"Yeah, well," he started with a sigh. "I should probably lay low for a while. You're listed as the captain, just in case."
"What's my name today?"
"Cody Wells." Her eyebrow rose. "Cody could be a girl's name, right?" She shrugged.
"I guess so. How much fuel?"
"150 deciliters. They'll take care of it. You just have to tell them and pay." She nodded. "Have fun," he finished. She smiled up at him and turned. He watched her leave with a muted sigh.
"Everything go okay?" He'd heard her settling bags on the kitchen floor.
"Yeah," she returned, glancing up to see him enter the room.
"What'd you get?"
"Help me unload it and find out," she suggested. He snickered and helped her empty the bags.
"Did they have a bigger bag of animal crackers?" he asked, holding up a five pound bag. "I don't know if this will last you until the next stop." She glared over her shoulder at him.
"Good munchie food," she said, turning back to organizing the fridge. He grinned a twisted smile and found a place for the massive bag. She sighed and fell into a chair.
"Hard work, huh?" She nodded.
"Shopping sucks."
"Well," he drawled, "you seemed to do okay." She shrugged, watching him sit across from her.
"Station guy said he'd page us on the com when he was done refueling."
"How'd that go?" Riddick asked.
"Fine," she said with a shrug. "They asked my name, I told them, they asked how much, I told them, the told me how much, I paid them." He nodded.
"I'm sorry I had to make you do that." She waved him off.
"It was on the way back. Not a big deal."
"Everything else go okay?" She paused, searching his face for a moment.
"Fine," she replied slowly. He nodded, as though relieved. "Why?"
"I was just worried." Her eyebrow rose.
"Is this the 'be careful' thing again?" She saw the corners of his lips turn upwards just a hair and only for a fraction of a second, but he didn't reply. "What, you want the details?" His eyes snapped over to hers, and she thought she noted a flash of panic.
"What details?" She sighed, leaning back in her chair.
"Well, since you're just so worried about me, a couple of guys looked and smiled, one whistled, and one asked my name, but no one crossed the border to threatening," she said, humoring him.
"Don't mock me, Jack," he warned.
"You brought it up."
"Tell me something," he said quietly. She nodded. "Would you have used that wireless to tell me if something didn't seem right?" Her eyes met and held his.
"If I thought I couldn't handle it, yes." His eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Did you know someone was following you today?" he asked.
"Yes." He opened his eyes and stared at her. "You were." Her eyes were defiant, any questions of his about how sure she was of that completely obliterated. "Why?"
"Wanted to keep an eye on you."
"I had a wireless com on me, Riddick."
"You wouldn't have used it."
"I would have, if I thought I needed to," she insisted. He just stared at her, making her unsure of whether or not he believed her. Her eyes narrowed. "If I could knock you over in your chair at that bar, what the fuck makes you think I couldn't knock someone else's over?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the table, her stance meant to be intimidating. She knew she couldn't intimidate him, but she also knew he knew the implication of her movement.
"Don't overestimate yourself, Jack."
"I don't," she fired back. "And I don't underestimate myself either." He nodded, suddenly exhausted. He leaned back in his chair, and she relaxed a little. She sighed, and his eyes met hers again. "Are you ever going to let me do things myself?" she asked. His brow furled. She shook her head, working her fingers against a crack in the table. "You need some wood putty."
"I think I have some in the tool box in the cargo hold." She nodded and stood. "Jack."
"I'll be right back," she said, not slowing. She returned a few moments later, wood putty and putty knife in hand. He watched her patch the table. "Well?"
"Well what?" he asked, watching her scrape the excess off the table and back into the jar.
"When am I going to be able to do things without you watching over my shoulder?" she repeated, turning to rinse the goo off the knife.
"Not in the sink, Jack."
"It's water soluble, Riddick," she retorted. She shut the water off and turned to him, leaning against the counter, her eyebrows poised to let him know she was still waiting.
"I'm sorry."
"You've been apologizing a lot lately," she noted.
"I've had a lot to apologize for," he returned.
"Well," she said with a shrug, "start acting." He sighed. "I'm a big girl, Riddick."
"No, Jack, you're an extremely gorgeous young woman that makes an easy target to guys with one track minds." Her eyebrow rose.
"So maybe someone should be watching over your shoulder, then," she said, eyebrow still arched. He blinked a few times.
"Maybe someone should." His eyes met hers. "What do you think, Jack?" he asked, standing slowly. Her breath caught in her throat as he walked toward her. "Do you think someone should be looking over my shoulder?" He stopped in front of her, one foot on either side of hers, looming over her. Goose bumps rose on her skin as he ran his hands up her arms and back down again, finally coming to rest on the counter behind her. He leaned closer to her. "Make sure I behave myself?" She looked up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness. He bowed his head, catching the flesh just below her earlobe between his teeth. Her eyes slammed shut as she drew in a sharp breath, wishing the butterflies flitting around in her stomach would drown in the acid rising up in her throat. She swallowed – hard. He nipped at the soft skin on her shoulder, watching her fingers tighten around the countertop with a satisfied smile.
"Don't manipulate me, Riddick." She finally found her voice. He paused, looking back up at her. Her eyes were scared and yet firm. He shook his head slowly, suddenly intent on her lips.
"I'm not," he said quietly, leaning forward to taste. His lips barely brushed hers when she twisted out of his hold, sliding into her chair again, blowing on the setting wood putty. He sighed and leaned against the counter where she just was. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. She shook her head, still staring at the freshly patched crack. He sighed and sat in the chair next to her, watching her tense. "Jack, I didn't mean—"
"It's not you."
"Please don't give me the 'it's not you, it's me' speech," he said quickly. She smiled slightly.
"That's not what I meant," she explained, lifting her eyes to meet his. She shook her head. "It's those damn contacts." His eyes fell from hers. "Every time I look at you, it's not you."
"Would it help if I stopped wearing them?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.
"You mean would it help with these sudden, unexpected romantic advances? I don't know." He opened his mouth, but she cut in. "Would it help make me feel more comfortable here?" She shrugged. "Maybe."
"So you're not comfortable here because I wear contacts to keep people from automatically assuming I'm a convict?"
"You are a convict, Riddick." He sighed. "Miners have the same ratio of shine jobs to normal eyes as convicts do. Stop being paranoid."
"Paranoia keeps you safe."
"From what?" she asked.
"Suspicion," he said.
"Then be paranoid," she returned with a shrug. "Your choice. But just remember that I don't feel like it's you when I can't see that glow," she finished, standing to take the putty and knife back to the cargo hold. He let his head fall to the table with a thud.
"Christ," he groaned at the table. He let his eyes close and shook his head.
"You told me to make the first move when I'm ready." His head snapped up, the heat spreading through his shoulders as his nerve endings protested the sudden movement. She stood in the doorway, uncertainty playing in her eyes. "That was your move, not mine." He watched her turn and leave, staring after her.