Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at Mission Staging, where two different tour groups were scheduled for Jumps.
Eleven historians surrounded their temporal guide, Masoud Gertsenzon, arguing about the best way to observe the December 20, 1803, French handover of the city of New Orleans to the United States. At the opposite end of the room, a team of Enforcers inspected their baggage for contraband—items that were illegal to transport into the past for various reasons.
Alerio stopped long enough to introduce himself, shake hands all around, and wish the group luck with their trip.
Striding across the room, he found Kangse Wei fidgeting while his equipment was inspected. The slender young documentarian wore a canvas duster, black pants, boots, and a white shirt with a string tie. According to the trip description he’d filled as part of his visa request, he planned to shoot a trid about the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Which meant Wei would spend most of the next week concealed in an invisibility field so the temporal natives wouldn’t know he was there. Just like the fleet of invisible camera bots he’d use to shoot the scene.
Wei was fidgeting from foot to foot as Alerio walked up, almost dancing as he watched the agents searching his equipment. “Come on, Forcies, get it done. I want to Jump.”
Alerio raised a brow. “What’s your hurry, sir? Wyatt Earp isn’t going anywhere. And you’ve already done everything you’re going to do.”
“Maybe, but it sure doesn’t feel that way. And the gods alone know how many doc-jocks are shooting in Tombstone right now.” The young man glowered as he drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I need to tell my story.”
The inspection team started flipping the cases closed. “Looks like they’re finished,” Alerio told him. “Good luck with your story, Mr. Wei.”
“Thanks. Happy times, Forcie.” With a farewell wave, the documentarian strode toward his waiting pile of gear.
Shaking his head, Alerio started toward the other end of the room, where another group of Enforcers stood talking in low, intense voices.
Wulf, a heavy-world agent who was ten centimeters shorter than Alerio—and thirty kilos heavier—was partnered with Tonn “Bear” Esso, equally massive, though considerably taller. With them was a tall, strongly built female agent named Irihapeti Aotea with elegant dark features and a regal carriage. Her partner, pale, slim Anzu Genji, was far stronger than her delicate build suggested. The two made a quick and deadly team.
Alerio’s fellow Warlord, Galar, had been partnered with Peter Brannon, a deceptively wiry man with a wicked sense of humor.
“Are you agents ready to Jump?” Alerio asked, giving them all a smile.
“We just need to load Wei’s equipment on the coach—which may take a while.” Brannon jerked a thumb at the stagecoach and its four horses. “Then we Jump.”
“While trying to keep the little arteeeest out of trouble,” Galar added dryly.
“He does seem a little high-strung,” Alerio allowed with a crooked grin. More seriously, he asked, “Is there anything you need that you don’t already have?”
Galar shrugged. “No, sir, I think we’ve got it all covered.”
“Good.” He slapped the blond on a broad shoulder. “Have a safe Jump.”
As the agents chorused their thanks, Alerio headed over to the coach.
Pendragon flicked his tail and stamped. “Get any sleep?”
Alerio snorted. “Hardly. You?”
“Hour’s nap. It’ll do. My computer’s compensating.” The stallion lifted his elegant head and pricked his ears. “Hey, isn’t that your . . . ah . . . whoever?”
Alerio turned to watch Dona walk in after Jessica Arvid. “Showtime,” he murmured.
“Wanted to see you off and give you a kiss,” the pretty redhead told her husband. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“When have I ever minded a kiss?” Galar pulled her into his arms for an embrace hot enough to make her cheeks turn red.
Alerio’s gaze slipped past the couple to Dona, who watched him. The erotic intensity of her gaze made him grin.
Then he remembered Pjam’s locked file, and the grin faded. Dona’s also disappeared, evidently in response. Eyes narrowing, she started toward him.
Oh, fuck, he thought. I’m not looking forward to this conversation.
“Something wrong?” Dona murmured when they were close enough to speak privately.
“I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
He hesitated. “Wait until the teams Jump. Then we’ll go discuss it in private.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re the chief.”
“Yeah.” Whether I like it or not.
Half an hour later, Dona stopped dead on the trail. She’d initially thought he’d invited her to walk outside the Outpost so they could enjoy a little romantic privacy.
But then, I’ve always been an idiot. “Let me get this straight—you cracked my sealed medical file?” She couldn’t believe he’d do something like that. Sounds more like Ivar. Only Ivar never cared enough about me to bother. A fact that only added to her rage.
Alerio glanced away to watch a bald eagle soar over the valley. “I realize it was a violation of your trust, your privacy. But I knew there was something wrong, and I thought if I understood what it was, I could help.”
“How—by waving your magic dick?” Dona glared at his handsome profile. “Oh, that’s right—you already tried that.”
“I don’t blame you for being angry.”
Dona ground her teeth. “Thanks so much for your understanding.”
Alerio gave her a long, steady look that made her feel like a cosmic-class bitch. “I am sorry for what you suffered at the hands of those who should have protected you.” He moved closer. “Your parents. The Aranian military.” His lip curled. “Kavel. Especially Kavel.”
Dona stared up into his black eyes, trying to read the emotion there. Did she repulse him now—Dona Astryr, ex-lover of a sixty-eight-year-old pedophile? Or did he just pity her?
And which would she hate more?
Alerio watched as Dona spun on her heel and stalked away. Her booted feet crunched through the leaves in long, angry strides.
He’d hoped she wouldn’t be as angry as he feared. Instead, she seemed even more furious than he’d anticipated. The betrayal in those lovely violet eyes felt like a blade between the ribs.
Far too many people had betrayed Dona. Alerio hated being one of them. Never mind that he’d only wanted to help, while the rest of the bastards seemed to act from pure selfishness.
For Dona, the end result was the same.
Well, not quite. Cracking her medical file is hardly in the same league as raping her from the age of fifteen. But eyeing those rigid shoulders, Alerio wasn’t sure if she’d agree.
She wheeled toward him with such violence, he almost fell into guard out of sheer warrior reflex. Somehow he managed to suppress his body’s wary jerk.
Dona stalked toward him, eyes narrow with calculation. “Just how sorry are you, Alerio?”
“I deeply regret invading your privacy.” Honesty forced him to add, “But I’d do the same thing again if I thought it was necessary. In this case, it was necessary.”
Temper flashed in her brilliant eyes. “Oh, was it?”
“Yeah, it was.” He considered putting a hand on her shoulder, only to hastily drop the idea. He’d probably draw back a stump. “The thing with Ivar wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”
“So now you think I’m a career victim.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Dona.” He reined in his own temper with an effort. “Look, I admire the way you’ve overcome your past. Instead of becoming bitter, you’re a generous, compassionate person.”