“Enough to get a license and know I won’t kill us on the way back to base.” She pocketed the keys and let the men lead her inside.
Inside was crowded and noisy. Over half of the patrons were dressed in crew uniforms. With Ford in the lead, they snaked their way through the throng to a table near the back where three of the six chairs were already occupied by crew from another ship. They wore casual uniforms similar to theirs, only in different colors, with a different ship’s crest on the shirt.
The largest of the three men looked up, his momentary surprise immediately concealed behind a calculating mask.
“Hey, Ford, Caph. Where’s Aaron?” His question really was,
“Who’s the chick?” but he didn’t voice it.
Ford held Emi’s chair for her, and the twins sat, flanking her. “He wasn’t up for a night out. This is Dr. Emilia Hypatia, our med officer.
Captain Rick Garcia of the Angor Bay, his first, John McReiny, and mate William Baxter.”
The men nodded in turn and shook hands, still eying her.
“You get a med officer yet, Rick?” Caph asked.
He shook his head. They’re setting us up as an eight-pack this time, detailed explores. Cleaning up y’all’s messes.” He grinned, then took a swig of his beer. “Said it’ll probably be another six to eight months at least before we ship out.” A waitress took their order, Ford and Caph both getting beer and Emi sticking to soda water. She felt Rick’s eyes on her, and not in a comfortable way.
“When you guys shipping out?” Rick asked.
Ford shrugged. “Still going through final retrofits, training, all that. Emi’s got another weaponry simulation on Friday. She could blow your balls off from here to Flagstaff,” he proudly boasted.
She blushed, wishing the boys wouldn’t engage in a pissing contest. Not with these three men, at least.
“I bet she can,” McReiny said, his eyes never wavering from her.
She blushed again. He meant that in a way totally different than the twins took it. Sometimes it sucked being a trained empath.
Emi sat back and tried not to pay attention to the conversation, preferring to keep her mind on the twins and how drunk they were getting. They quickly finished their first beers and, knowing Emi would safely drive them home, ordered another round.
The more they drank, the more the twins loosened up, and the more she tensed. The Angor Bay crew rarely took their eyes off her.
She hoped they weren’t drunk enough to try something stupid.
After an hour she had to use the bathroom. When she stood, she uncomfortably realized she was the only female patron in the bar.
How had that fact escaped her earlier?
Keeping her gaze down, she carefully worked her way to the hallway leading to the restrooms, doing her best not to brush against anyone. She needed to get the boys out of here asap. She could claim she was sick. Even drunk, that would motivate them to leave. She hated to ruin their evening, but the rock hard feeling in her gut was quickly swelling to the size of a boulder, and she knew until they were safely back at the ship the feeling wouldn’t dissipate.
When she left the bathroom, McReiny was making his way down the hall toward her. The hall was barely wide enough for two people, and when she turned to let him pass, he stepped into her, pressing her against the wall.
From his eyes and breath, she knew the whiskey he’d been drinking was overriding his common sense.
“Well, hello, Doc,” he slurred.
The hallway wasn’t visible from their table. Emi tried to read McReiny, to find anything she could use against him short of physical force.
Considering he was nearly a head taller than her and outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, she didn’t know how practical that option was.
Mustering her cool, professional voice, she threw up a wall around her nerves. “Hello, Officer McReiny.” Now she had to meet his eyes, stare him down.
He hesitated, perhaps rethinking his evaluation of her weaker personality.
“Why don’t you come crew with us?” He flicked a lock of hair off her shoulder. “I bet you’d have more fun with us.” She slid her hand down to her pocket and found her cell phone, then wrapped her fingers around it. It wasn’t a weapon, but she knew enough to know she could smash it in his face to buy a second or two if she needed it. “I’m perfectly happy on the Tamora Bight, McReiny.”
He stared her down for a moment. When she thought he was going to back up, he pressed harder against her. His erection dug into her hip. Emi realized if she didn’t do something fast, she was going to have a serious problem.
He wasn’t chipped.
“We transferred over from the Merchants a few weeks ago,” he said, smiling. “I’m not a healer, but I had plenty of training in negotiation science.”
Fuck. He was an empath too. Apparently stronger than her, because he’d hid it well despite being drunk.
He bent his face to her ear and whispered, “We know how to take care of a lady better than those guys do, I guarantee you.” From somewhere, she summoned her strength and pushed him back. He staggered, allowing her to bolt, right into another man.
Baxter.
He grinned, grabbing her wrist. “What are you doing, Mac?
Starting without me?”
She twisted, trying to pull away, and knew she had a very limited window to make a decision. Try to fight and risk getting raped, or scream her head off and trigger a bar fight when the twins waded in?
The twins were drunk, drunker than these two assholes. Praying for a miracle, Emi fell against McReiny, surprising him. She kicked out, nailing Baxter squarely in the nuts.
He fell to his knees with an agonized groan, and McReiny loosened his grip on her long enough for her to stomp his foot and break free. She dodged Baxter’s hand and ran down the hall and into the barroom. For a second she panicked when she didn’t see the twins at the table, then spotted them at the bar talking to another crew.
She raced to them and grabbed their hands. “Come on. We’re leaving. Now.” She’d call Graymard from the truck and file charges against the other two, but she had to get the twins out of the bar.
Ford’s eyes gleamed. He was wasted. “What’s wrong¯”
“Officer Caliban, that’s an order,” she barked, hoping to shock him through his alcohol haze.
She pulled them toward the door, but the men balked. “Emi, what’s going on?” Caph asked.
“Officer Bates, we are leaving. Now.” It was her bad luck that he wasn’t quite as drunk as Ford. He was larger, meaning it took more to put him in the tank. And it was also her bad luck that he turned at that moment and spotted McReiny and Baxter at the hallway entrance, both obviously in pain and sending murderous looks her way.
Caph pulled free from her desperate grasp. “Oh, fuck no!” he growled. “What the hell did they try, babe? Did they hurt you?” Bad luck seemed to flow as freely as beer tonight. Ford immediately picked up the source of Caph’s outrage and realized how upset Emi was. “Fucking bastards!”
“Guys, I’m okay,” she pleaded, frantic. “They’re not chipped.
Let’s get the hell out of here, we can handle this¯” The twins moved as one away from her, pushing through the crowd toward where the Angor Bay crewmen stood. She didn’t see Garcia and suspected he wasn’t in on his crew’s plan. No captain was that dense, to risk death and a ten million dollar return bonus over an unwilling piece of ass.
Was he?
Caph was taller and outweighed the other two men. Baxter was approximately Ford’s size. As the patrons realized a fight was brewing, they cheered and formed a circle around the men.
“No! Caph, Ford, no!” Emi screamed, trying to push after them. It was useless because, sensing blood in the water, the other customers were eager to see a fight.