Chapter Seven

Kyra hurried to her room. It was dark and cool inside. Mitch was no where to be seen. She threw her back firmly against the door as she shut it. Pulling the goggles down around her neck she rubbed her reddening eyes.

She had dreams about him all the time. He'd been such a vital part of her jumbled life, she couldn't help it. They ranged from the mundanely innocent to the fiery X-rated. But she'd never been aware that others were privy to them as well. No wonder Toombs was being such a dick. An ass like him loved getting dirt on his crew.

She ran her hands feverishly through her hair and bit her lower lip. She felt like some one had just taken a sledge hammer to her gut. It wasn't fair. Not here, not now... not so suddenly. Why couldn't Toombs have just told her before they left the space port? Things would have been different. She could have refused to join up for this assignment.

She thought about that for a moment. If she had known that Riddick was the target, would she have passed up the opportunity to lay him next to the others on her resume? After all, he was the one man in the universe that she truly desired to see chained up in a god-forsaken triple max slam some where. Would she have let some one else have the satisfaction of placing that bit in his mouth? No.

But then again... no one else would have been able to get him off that snow-cone ruled planet. She'd take him down, or he'd be on the outs forever.

She set to work packing her bags.

In an hour the whole team was re-assembled back at Riddick's cell, ready to haul him out to the shuttle bay.

"Okay, big boy, let's get you out of here," Mitch greeted, stepping in ahead of the others.

They took his arms down from the wall first, attaching them to his waist. In order to do this, they had to uncuff him and switch from the cell's bindings to their own. His wrists were placed one over the other before a giant manacle was closed around them. Then came his feet and legs, and the collar. Kyra silently slipped the bit into place and deftly clamped the latch shut behind his head.

To taunt him, she was still wearing the goggles. They were pushed high on her forehead, holding her hair at bay. Swiftly, she unsheathed her long dirk as the others unholstered their hand blasters. They took up their original safety positions and made their way down.

The docking guard let them by with out questioning, and radioed the booth to begin launch sequencing. Not more than a few paces from their craft Toombs summoned the ramp down. Then, all hell broke loose.

When they had been putting on his mobile restraints, they had failed to catch Riddick play out the oldest trick in the book. He put his wrists together, one on top of the other like they'd asked. He stacked them width on top of width, so that his hands were vertical with his thumbs aimed at the ceiling. When the time was right, all he had to do was roll his hands palm down and he could easily slip free. It worked like a charm.

With his hands back in commission, he swung to the left, jerking the blaster out of Spinner's grasp. He turned it on the stunned mercenary, shooting a quarter sized hole right through his chest.

Mitch tugged hard on his leash. He leaned back to counter her weight before slapping her aside.

Kyra lunged forward with her blade reflexively, attempting to sever his spinal cord like she'd been trained. He twisted out of the way and around behind her. Rolling his fist in a chunk of her wavy locks, he held her against him. He reached for her armed wrist, pulling her own hand to her throat.

Mitch ran to Spinner's side, and Toombs trailed Riddick with his gun. The docking guard called for back up before rushing in.

Riddick drug Kyra backwards up the ramp, using her body as a human shield. She was doing her best to keep her knife away from her jugular, but was failing miserably. He was too strong. In a desperate attempt to extricate herself from his grip, she smashed her foot down as hard as she could on his instep. Her strike didn't faze him, and he continued pulling her into the ship. He slammed the door shut, then jammed the controls.

He skillfully rolled the knife out of her hand and into his own, then tossed it to the side. Flipping her around to face him, he pushed her into the VIP chair and quickly secured her.

This was her worst nightmare, having everything she routinely used to capture the universe' scum turned against her.

He spit the bit out, then asked, "Who's ship is this?"

"Toombs'," she squawked.

"Thanks, Toombs," he murmured, flipping on the dash.

"Abort launch! I repeat, abort launch!" The guard yelled into his walkie-talkie, but it was too late. Soon they were gone, leaving Toombs cursing Riddick at the top of his lungs.

Riddick set the ship on auto pilot, then returned to Kyra's side. "What's the bounty on my head?"

"One point five," she said darkly.

"What slam pays one point five for a convict?"

"It's a private party." She was throwing daggers at him with her stare.

He leaned into her so that they were almost nose to nose, "What planet?" he rumbled.

Her lip curled, "Helion Prime."

He blinked at her, then breathed, his tone sinister, "Imam."

"You don't know that."

"No, but I intend to find out. I want this pay day off." He went to the computer and typed something quickly.

She struggled against her bonds, but they were well made. She'd have to be a contortionist to escape. "Get me out of here and I can take those chains off of you," she offered.

He strolled easily over to her, then lifted the goggles off of her head, "Where are the keys?" he asked, shoving them unceremoniously onto his face.

"Let me go and I'll get them."

"How do I know you won't try to bust me open?"

"I'd like to," she admitted haughtily.

An amused smile tugged at the corner of his lip. "I'm not letting you out of that seat until you tell me why you didn't stay on Helion."

"Fine," she lifted one shoulder minimally, "I'm perfectly comfortable. Just thought you might be tired of being collared like a rabid bitch."

"I'm not in the mood to play," he said, checking a dial.

"Who said I was playing?"

"I'm taking you to Tartus Two," he informed her.

"What? Why?"

"It won't do either of us any good to have you on Helion Prime," he went to the front, settling himself in the pilot's seat, "Bad for business."

"You scared I'll take you out, or tag along?" She asked, her voice an echo of her snotty-brat past. He didn't answer.

He was quiet for a while, introspective. She herself had plenty to keep her mind busy, but did her best to keep it blank. After all, the last thing she needed was an impure thought to show its self across her traitorous features.

Riddick had all ready formulated a plan. Of course her crew would try to track them. She was their girl, and he was their meal ticket. If they had read his file and understood it, then they'd expect him to make straight for Helion Prime. He'd throw them for a loop. The two of them would touch down on Tartus, he'd make sure she kept her nose clean for a few days, then he'd leave her behind for her own sake. Out smart the mercs, no problem.

"Ready for cryo?" he asked rhetorically.

She nodded, but then realized what that could mean. "Wait! Are you going under?"

He nodded dryly in return, without facing her. He inserted the IV into his arm and leaned back. "Night," he grumbled.

Soon her mind began to grow hazy. The juice was being pumped into her through her wrist restraints. Her eyelids fluttered, and she was out.

In what felt like only moments, she was waking again. Riddick was piloting them to the surface. She gulped harshly, wondering if she'd betrayed herself in her sleep. Damn Toombs.

They alighted in a shity little port on the outskirts of a major city. As soon as the landing gear took hold he unbuckled himself. "Keys," he demanded.

"Unless you're letting me out first, find them yourself."

With out hesitation he pulled himself to the back. His hand hovered over her arm for a moment, as if he were going to free her. But then he moved down her side, barely grazing her, all the way to her hip. He held it there, waiting for her to object. She didn't. He patted her pockets. Nothing in the front, so he carefully slid his probing behind and under her.

She looked down and to the side. Only he could excite her and make her feel violated all at once. "Stop," she said firmly. Immediately he withdrew. She looked him in the eye, past the darkened lenses, "Get me on my feet and you can have the keys."

He considered this for a moment (he could see she wasn't going to give in any time soon), then began unstrapping her. She refused his hand when he offered it, pushing herself to her feet. With long, strict strides she made her way to the copilot's seat, threw back the cushion, and extracted a ring of keys. She smacked them roughly against his chest. "What made you think I kept them on me?" she spurned. She sat down, slouching, and pulled her knees to her chest.

He made quick work of his manacles, shedding them to the floor. "Do you have a pair of regular old hand cuffs?"

"Why?"

"Yes or no."

"Yeah..."

"Where?"

"What do you want them for?" she felt suddenly small. She knew what he wanted them for. He wanted to make sure she was inconspicuously under his control. She laid her head in one hand, "They're in a drawer, under the passenger seat to the right." He went for them. "You're not putting them on me," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. He stood behind her, dangling both the cuffs and her fur cloak in front of her. "It's not cold out," she stated bitterly.

"It'll hide the cuffs. Stand up."

"No."

If she was going to act like a child he was going to treat her like one. He wrapped his huge hand around her upper arm, lugging her erect. Then he jerked both hands behind her back, slapping the cuffs on.

"Ow!" She jabbed him in the chest with one shoulder, "They're too tight."

"It's only for a little while." He tamely paced the cloak around her, like a gentleman helping a lady on with her coat after a ritzy party. At the moment she didn't feel very much like a lady. "Don't make a scene," he warned in her ear, his voice treacherously soft.

"No problem," she answered with sarcastic gusto.

He put an arm around her shoulders and guided her from the craft. They took hurried, wooden steps out of the hanger and onto the road. It was the early evening, so the traffic on the sidewalks was manageable. He maneuvered her down one side street, then another, before scooting down an alley way.

"This looks promising," she quipped uncomfortably.

The alley widened at the rear, ending at an unsavory establishment squeezed into a space that seemed much to small for it. Wash that appeared old and forgotten hung on low slung cables that ran from one side of the narrow byway to the other. Crinkled posters and advertisements for everything from movies to brothels lined the walls. The one visible window was broken and dusty. He hurried her inside the brick building, ignoring the dirty beggar on the steps.

Inside wasn't much better. The wallpaper was a faded cream, and was peeling here and there. An array of ancient bulbs jutted out from the relatively high ceiling and walls. Unshrouded by any form of shade, their french vanilla light made everything look sallow. Even the man at the front desk looked unduly bilious. Dust caked all exposed surfaces, and something moldy sat on a coffee table in the supposed lobby.

Kyra gritted her teeth. So this was Riddick's idea of a hotel?

"Can I help you?" asked the somniferous voice of the clerk.

"We'd like a room," Riddick replied, perfectly lax.

"Double or single?" he asked, smacking his sticky lips before a yawn made its way through them.

"Double."

The clerk frowned and furrowed his brow slightly, looking between the two of them. He sighed and marked down a double. Retrieving a room key that looked as if it hadn't been used in ages, he asked, "And what names should I put in the register?"

"Smith, mister and misses" Riddick said with a wicked half smile.

The man nodded. That was more like it. "Hey, Marie!" he called into the room behind him, "That's the eighth pair of Smiths tonight. Popular name, isn't it?"

Riddick took the key and thanked the man. They trotted up two flights of stairs to room 36. Kyra looked suspiciously up and down the hall as Riddick unlocked the door. Some toe curling, animalistic babble rose from the room right next to theirs, making her squirm. As soon as the lock clicked open she hurried inside. Riddick shut the door behind him, making sure it was firmly locked and deadbolted.

When he turned around he had to act quickly. Kyra was sending a mule kick his way. He caught her foot and twisted, plummeting her to the floor. Without a word, he shut himself in the bathroom.

She unsteadily rose to her feet. There was no window, and the locks on the door were too high to reach in her present predicament. She knew that if she called out no one would come to her rescue. There was no such thing as chivalry in a dive like this. Riddick turned the shower in the bathroom on. With a frustrated yowl, she plopped down on the nearest bed. If there was a model for worst case scenario, this was it.

Author's Note: Yeah, I know what it looks like. Cheep means to an end. Well, maybe it is. I don't know if I'll have to change the rating any time soon... I guess it depends on how dirty my mind gets. I'd suggest that any of you who don't have an account go a head and get one, just in case. Any way, R&R.