Bomb Voyage

By D.L. Jackson

Bomb voyage!

Captain Jayson Rivers, owner of a commercial mining scoop, likes the simple life. He appreciates order, making money, and reaping the rewards of a hard day’s work.
What he doesn’t like is getting dragged into galactic politics, or into the crosshairs of his ex-wife, a ruthless bomber, who has already tried to take him out once. He doesn’t need complications, like the sexy red-headed mechanic who’s walked her sweet ass onto his vessel, bringing with her a shitload of trouble, and turning his world upside down.

From expensive and illegal boiler parts that break the bank, to homicidal in-laws and a shotgun wedding he’d better be able to get an annulment from, his life can’t get much more complicated.

Until he ends up knocked out, bound naked with his bride, on a one-way trip to a hostile world with a bomb hooked to the control panel of his shuttle.

Yeah, the universe is a crazy place, but Jayson’s simple life has gone past complicated. He’s sliced off a bit of that insanity pie, and things might never go back to normal, if he can even remember what that is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Decadent Publishing
• Release date: Mar 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781683612155

Book preview

Chapter One

Sam. Any other Sam would be male and not a big pain in the ass. When Captain Jayson Rivers requested a mechanic, the Trios Mechanic’s Union told him they’d send the best. So, naturally he hadn’t expected a redheaded solar storm—a one-woman wrecking force with freckles sprinkled over a cute little button nose. A woman who diligently worked at dismantling his ship, making his much-needed shower impossible.

Fuck! She flung a part from under the boiler. It rolled across the deck and hit the toe of his boot.

Fuck? Did her eloquent choice of words mean he wasn’t getting his shower today? Time and patience weren’t on the agenda. He’d long since run out of both. Is there a problem? Jayson clamped his teeth to keep from growling.

Working as fast as I can, sir, her sweet voice called from under several tons of rugged metal.

Deceptive, her voice. The woman underneath might look compliant, but he’d discovered the opposite five minutes after she’d stepped onboard his ship and handed him her bags like he was some kind of valet on a pleasure cruiser. Bossy, yes. On her own schedule—most definitely. Stubborn—yeah. Opinionated—when didn’t she have one? Bendable, flexible, compliant—hell no.

Hmm, hmmm, hm, hm….

And not gifted with musical talent.

Jayson braced for the inevitable. He knew what came next. She’d start to sing. Then the howling would commence, followed by several hours of strangled versions of what used to be some of his favorite songs. He’d endured enough. The woman had put him to the test for last two hours, and he wouldn’t abide another minute.

Rose!

The boiler room dropped into blessed silence. He sighed deep and leaned back against the iron monster, which, if she’d done her job, would have heated the water for the cleansing unit. Instead, if one jumped inside to wash up, they were hit with icy blasts of mist, and though mist didn’t sound like a big thing, when the temperature sat close to freezing, you didn’t want it anywhere near your naked skin.

With his ballistics officer and personal assistant away on their honeymoon, it hadn’t taken Jayson long to sink up to his pits in ordnance and Jenna’s administrative shit, doing the work of three people. Dealing with Tyson’s bomb inventory turned out to be a dirty job, and by the end of the week, he couldn’t stand his stench anymore. A good scrubbing was in order. Except he didn’t have any hot water.

The simple technology Sam tried to fix had existed for hundreds of years. Primitive, but most the time it ran, and in the past, if it went down, it required only a kick or two to bring it back online. The heating system had basic engineering behind it. The boiler captured cold air and extracted heat from it. Since the inside of the ship had live bodies, and the crew generated more heat than space, no matter how cold the air outside the ship, the interior would always be warmer. In addition, as long as the technology functioned normally, the boiler could extract the warmth and multiply it.

Then, if the piece of shit worked like it should, it would continue to recycle the air, drawing heat from it until the water in the boiler turned scalding hot. Man created the heat, the machine harvested it—simple enough technology.

So why couldn’t she get the blasted thing to run? Jayson resisted abusing it more, not sure the toe of his boot could handle it, but damn, any time now would be good. He’d lived with the smell of his own funk and ice-cold sponge baths for four days now. He refused to go another day. Hence the reason he didn’t want to leave engine room, or at least that’s what he told himself.

Hmmm, hummmn, hum, hummmmmm.

Jayson growled. Pretty soon, she’d be in concert. He clamped his hands over his ears and not a second too soon.

Baby, ooooh babbbbbeeee…oooooooooo babeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy.

Didn’t she ever lose her voice?

Jayson cringed as the last high note shot up his spine—pretty damn sure it hit about five octaves too high on the musical scale. At least, if he remembered his songs correctly, it did—but he could be wrong.

Jayson tipped his head side to side, cracking his neck. Before the tall redhead had arrived on his ship, he hadn’t thought anyone could sing that bad, the kind of awful that cracked glass, made dogs howl and small children cry. Hell, it could bring a grown man to tears.

Come over hereeeeeeeeee! Woooo, woooo hooooo.

And then he’d met her. Gods damn it, Rose! Enough.

Oooo, oooo, ooooo, oh.

But she didn’t seem to hear him, or maybe she’d rendered herself deaf? Jayson looked down. Her boots poked out from under the heating system, and her toes tapped in cadence with whatever song she butchered and he tried his hardest to ignore. Attached to the boots was a pair of incredible long legs and a body that shouldn’t belong to a grease monkey. Ever since he saw those stilts, all he could think about was how they’d feel wrapped around him while he pounded into her.

Did you want something, sir? That sweet voice again. Yeah, she’d heard him all right.

Work faster. He shifted on his feet, trying to focus on something other than the bane of his existence and forbidden fruit. A captain didn’t touch his subordinates. He didn’t dream about them night and day, no matter how badly they sang, and he sure as hell didn’t get hard every time they passed him in the corridor and gave him a smile.

Do you want me to work faster, or do you want it done right, sir?

I want to get into the cleansing unit sometime this week, and since this is the end of the week, today.

I’m not stopping you, sir.

I’m not taking a cold shower. Though her suggestion did have merit, and the longer he stood there staring at her bare legs, the more sense it made.

Then you’ll have to wait because this exchanger isn’t going to fix itself, and doing it right takes time—even if it’s the end of the week. She rolled from under the boiler and smiled up at him. Captain Rivers, sir.

Damn, the way she said his name always sounded like an invitation to go to bed—and a hell of a lot easier on the ears than her singing. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why it sounded so good. After hours of the other…. No, he swore sometimes she said his name with a sexy purr to get the effect she got. He turned slightly, so she wouldn’t see that part of his body, eager to find out if she had.

Oh, what’s this? She glanced up at something on the boiler and grabbed a wire.

With her attention elsewhere, Jayson took the opportunity to give her a thorough once-over. Her legs really were amazing. And for the love of the gods, why had she chosen to wear shorts? The ship, no matter how hot, wasn’t the place for it. He should create some kind of policy against skimpy clothing onboard his scoop. Yeah, with the recirculator malfunctioning, all the heat that normally went into the water expelled into the air around them, turning the Gold Digger into a bona fide sauna. He couldn’t blame her for stripping down. The atmosphere onboard bordered sweltering. But she didn’t have to wear what she did.

It wouldn’t do for him to consistently have an erection when he wanted his crew to take him seriously. His gaze swept over her smooth skin. A smudge of grease graced the flesh of one thigh. Firm, long, lean…. Definitely a leg man, Jayson balled his hands into fists and shifted on his feet again, resisting the urge to drop down and rub it off. He decided to look elsewhere and entered territory not much better. Boobs. Big, beautiful boobs, packed into an itty, bitty…what the hell? With a chest like she had, how could she slip under the boiler and not get stuck? Her damned top stretched to its limit, and more of the teasing little streaks of grease not only drew attention, they verified she’d barely fit, as he’d suspected. Something he didn’t want to dwell on.

The top needed to go. Scratch that, she should wear something looser. Another policy he planned to create. Tight clothing—not allowed.

She cleared her throat.

Jayson’s attention shifted to Sam’s face, where she cocked an eyebrow. Is there something else you need, sir?

Yes! No.

Standing around barking at me isn’t going to get it done any faster.

I’m not barking.

Truly, Captain? Then she fucking smiled.

Jayson’s heart jumped. Sam had the prettiest smile he’d ever seen, and her dimples made it nearly impossible to think around her. Why the hell did he stand around and endure the torture? He should leave. He glanced at the door. Soon. How much longer?

Can you hand me that wrench? She pointed to a tool on the decking a couple of feet away, near where he stood.

Jayson debated. Could he do it? His dick had gotten so stiff, any movement would certainly inflict pain, and squatting down to retrieve a wrench she could reach herself wouldn’t help.

Pretty please, sir?

With whipped cream on top…. Jayson groaned under his breath. Yeah, good one. Now that he’d conjured up the image, he wished he hadn’t. His dick pushed against the front of his trousers, throbbing, ready to burst his zipper, and if he didn’t change the course of his thoughts, and quick, his cock might jump out and say hello.

A captain doesn’t greet his crew with his pecker out and at full mast.

He eyed the tool. Hand her the wrench and leave. Jayson stooped and swiped the tool from the decking with a grunt. You almost done, or do I have to endure another of your concerts?

Nobody’s forcing you to stand there. The corner of her mouth curled, and Jayson watched as her dimple appeared again.

No. He’d have to make a policy against that, too. No smiling. But I don’t see anyone torturing that sound out of you either.

It helps me to focus. You know, you get a good rhythm going and the work just zips by. Zoom, zoom.

Right. I have yet to hear anything good come out of your mouth. Speaking of which, she had a spectacular one. Full lips, the kind that made her look like she’d been kissed for hours, the kind that could turn a man inside out if applied to the right part of his anatomy. Jayson ripped his gaze off her as his dick twitched. Yeah, and wouldn’t I like to find out exactly what her mouth can do.

He couldn’t count on two hands the months he’d gone without a good lay. Her and her damn dimple weren’t helping, and thinking about what other things she could do to create the dimple didn’t make it any better. Fuck me.

Don’t you have things to do, sir? Her gaze drifted down.

Jayson flinched. And now she knew. I’m doing what a captain does, riding his mechanic’s ass so his ship works. He had no desire to tell her he couldn’t seem to pry himself away. He liked being around her, even though she sang like a banshee. The air around her crackled with an intoxicating energy, calling him closer, leaching away all his willpower. The woman walked and talked sex.

If you’re going to ride my ass, sir, the least you could do is pull my hair.

Jayson’s eyes popped wide. Excuse me? She didn’t just say that.

Just kidding, sir. Could you hand me that, too. She pointed across the deck at another tool. The socket wrench, sir. Right there.

He got that she wanted him to hand her another tool, but that wasn’t what had him rendered speechless and almost swallowing his tongue. Did she have any idea about shipboard etiquette? One did not ask one’s captain, even in jest, to pull her hair while riding her ass. Because he might damn well do it. His crew could call him a lot of things, but not a saint. Jayson frowned. There he went again. Sex—Sam. In his mind, they were a pair.

And that made him a raving lunatic, since she was all he could think about lately. The moment she’d boarded, he’d become buried in paperwork, mostly because he’d become too distracted to focus on the manifests, supply orders, and the other endless piles of crap that should be the responsibility of his aide, who’d decided to up and elope with Jayson’s brother, Tyson, a month ago, and continued to enjoy a way-too-long honeymoon on Trios. The two of them should wrap up the humpfest and make their way back onboard the Gold Digger. Then his life could go back to normal. Maybe.

If he were honest with himself, having his brother and assistant back wouldn’t fix the problem. Yeah, he could blame Jenna for him being behind on his paperwork, his brother for seducing his aide and putting him elbows deep in managing ordnance, but deep down he knew the truth. It had nothing to do with them. The redhead had gotten to him, even though he’d sworn it wouldn’t happen from the moment he’d first seen her.

A smart man would’ve shoved her ass back on the shuttle and returned her to where she’d come from. The woman looked like a billboard for trouble. And now he knew why. Boy did he.

He should have listened to his instincts, but thinking and doing it were two different games. Now he’d have to deal with the consequences of keeping her onboard, and what fun consequences they were. Every time his mechanic walked by, he itched to tune up her manifold. Mechanics shouldn’t look like that. He could also try to blame her, but he knew better. If he scratched the itch, it might cure the problem. Or it could make it worse. He wasn’t about find out, not when he needed a competent mechanic—outside of bringing the boiler to functional, she’d proved her skill.

No, her ability had nothing to do with it. The fact he’d spent one too many nights staring out into the icebox, wondering if she could warm his bed the way she warmed the hearts of every red-blooded male onboard the Digger, made him think it would only complicate his asinine attraction. He didn’t have time for a relationship. Yet he’d taken the time to beat the crap out