Breakwater: Custer (BBW Bad Boy Space Bear Shifter Romance)

  Thank you for supporting my work. I hope it’s as much fun to read as it was to write. This is the special Kindle Unlimited version of Breakwater: Custer. After you’re done reading it, you can continue to read every other story I have on Amazon. I’ve included them all for free for you. Just keep turning pages as long as you like.

  Also, if you sign up to my newsletter, I’ll send you three exclusive stories that you can’t get anywhere else!

  http://www.authorbecca.com

  http://www.facebook.com/AuthorBecca

  Breakwater: Custer

  Star Bears III

  by

  Becca Fanning

  Delphine came to slowly, blinking as the light hit her oversensitive eyes.

  The edges of her vision were fuzzy and there was a bitter taste in her mouth, barely detectable under the dry, cottony feeling coating her tongue. She didn’t bother trying to move, recognizing the signs of being sedated and feeling the cool metal restraints around her wrists and ankles.

  She was sitting in what was, as far as she could tell, a cargo hold. The chair she was in was apparently strapped to a wall, and there were at least three other people in the room with her. A slight, black-haired woman stood next to a tall brunette, leaning into him. The two were talking to someone out of her line of sight and Delphine didn’t want to turn her head, feeling nauseous. Thanks to the dossiers she had been provided, she identified the people in front of her as Zoshanna Kane and Richard Chapel. The third person sounded feminine, which would make her Anyanka Heathcoat.

  Delphine’s vision cleared slowly, enough so that she could see Kane’s eyes widening as she noticed her captive was awake. She tugged at Chapel’s sleeve, pointing.

  “Annie, get the captain,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “She’s awake.”

  “About time,” the third voice, now confirmed as Heathcoat, huffed. “Shoot her if she tries anything.”

  There was the mechanical swish of a door opening and closing. Delphine ignored it, wondering if she could break through her cuffs. Two of her three primary targets were in the room with her and the third would be on his way down shortly. Even if she didn’t get off the ship alive, she could complete her mission.

  She ran over what she knew about the two. Kane was a former street rat, surviving mainly due to her abilities as a thief. No kills that anyone was aware of, favored escape over combat. An easy target. Chapel posed more of a risk; Delphine was fully aware of her own capabilities, but if she couldn’t neutralize him before he shifted she would be at a disadvantage. If she was going to kill them, she needed to do it swiftly, starting with Chapel and finishing before Captain Ingram reached the bay.

  The only thing in her way were the fucking cuffs.

  She tugged at them, but even with her genetically enhanced strength they held. The chair creaked under her but didn’t give.

  Chapel smiled at her. Or, he moved his lips in a way that revealed quite a few of his teeth. The expression held precious little warmth, which confirmed the suspicions the dossier had provided Delphine with that he and Kane were romantically involved. The bruise on the thief’s cheek was ugly and mottled. Delphine wouldn’t have been surprised if her blow had broken her cheekbone.

  “Good morning,” Chapel said in a pleasant tone, the kind that generally came before a significant amount of pain. “We have a few questions for you.”

  Delphine remained silent, years of experience keeping her face in a neutral expression.

  “I can see you don’t want to talk to us,” he continued. “That’s understandable. Unfortunately, we can’t really let you just sit there either. See, if it were up to me, you’d have a blaster bolt turning your brain into about three pounds of superheated mush. But since we don’t want a repeat performance of what just happened on the docks, we need you to tell us what we want to know.”

  Mistake, mistake, mistake. If Delphine were further from the fog of the sedatives they’d used on her, or less well trained, she’d laugh in his face. Letting your prisoner know they weren’t going to be getting out alive was a misstep. People wanted to believe there was a chance they could live, and removing that made them less willing to talk. What would the point be? Obviously, they were threatening her with torture if she didn’t cooperate, which was another mistake. Even with her training, Delphine was fully aware that everyone, including her, eventually broke under torture. That didn’t mean anyone in the crew had the capability to reach her threshold. She’d read all their files. They were smuggler, thieves, and, when the situation called for it, killers. They weren’t seasoned interrogators.

  As it were, she merely remained as she was, still and expressionless.

  “Rick,” Kane said quietly.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Chapel responded, his voice suddenly soft. “But she hurt you, Zee, I’m not inclined to be nice to her.”

  “That doesn’t mean you need to be cruel, either,” Kane said. “I know you’re upset, but it’s just a bruise, and I already feel horrible. I don’t want to watch you become someone you aren’t just because I messed up.”

  She was surprisingly gentle for a girl from Lytos.

  Whatever Chapel wanted to say in response to that was interrupted by Heathcoat reentering the bay with Captain Leo Ingram in tow.

  He was, Delphine had to admit, much more impressive than the photo that had been in his file. She’d known he’d be broad-shouldered and square-jawed, with tan skin and curly black hair, but in life he seemed more vivid. She began to understand why people talked about him like they did.

  His anger was harder to ignore than his first officer’s, but still nothing like the trainers Delphine had grown up with. She wondered if he was going to try and intimidate her, or if he knew enough about the people trying to kill him to know that was a futile endeavor. He stared at her, jaw clenched.

  “First things first,” he said. “Who are you and who do you work for.”

  Delphine wondered if she should simply tell them. The fact that she hadn’t checked in yet had most likely already alerted the leader of Mason Corporation that she had failed or been delayed, and once they were certain she was useless to them they’d send a team. It wouldn’t matter how much or how little information the crew of the Breakwater got from Delphine to prepare for the onslaught. She had seen them at work before. The knowledge she was still capable of fear had come as something of a surprise.

  In the end, she opted for silence.

  “I had a feeling you were going to be like this,” the captain said. “Strong, silent type. You know, ninety-nine percent of the time I can respect that. Congratulations on finding the one percent.”

  The door opened again and several sets of footsteps grew louder.

  “Right on time.” Captain Ingram turned towards the other three members of the crew. They kept their distance from Delphine as they walked towards the captain. The shortest of the three handed him what appeared to be a medical pouch. “See, as much as I’d have loved to strap you to the top of the Breakwater, you have information we need. Things like, ‘who hired you’ and ‘what should we be on the lookout for.’ And I can’t afford to wait around until you feel like telling us. So what I have here,” he said, removing a syringe from the pouch, “is a delightful little compound an acquaintance of ours sells. It should loosen your lips.”

  Delphine couldn’t do anything but glare as he walked up to her and jerked her head roughly to the side. The hiss as the syringe punched through the skin of her neck seemed implausibly loud. She was sure that her genetics would counteract some of the effects of the drug, but she couldn’t be sure how much or
how it would combine with the remnants of the sedative still in her system. Clenching her jaw, she looked around the room.

  The newcomers were easy to identify. Dominic Banner, 35. Close-cut hair and beard. Neat, quiet, short. Suffered from Rogerson disorder; neutralize pre-shift, do not engage otherwise. Hyde Jones, 36. Skin dark, like hers. Dreadlocks swept back behind a bandanna. Missing right eye due to infection. On the run from a murder charge. Anthony Monroe, 35, currently using the name “Custer.” Hand lost to malfunctioning blaster. Manic and unpredictable.

  She knew them better than they knew each other, had spent hours going over the files that contained their whole lives over and over again. It was doing precious little to help her now. Banner was scowling at her quietly, Jones looked as though he would be perfectly content to just kill her and be done with it, and Monroe had a toothy grin stretched across his face.

  “We’ll just give that a moment to kick in, shall we?” the captain said.

  “I still say we just…” Jones mimed pointing a blaster at his head and firing.

  “Hear, hear,” murmured Chapel, wrapping a protective arm around Kane.

  “Now, now,” Monroe said. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Where’s the fun in getting rid of the person who hurt Zosha?” Chapel raised an eyebrow. “Well, honestly, I’d call it more ‘satisfactory’ than ‘fun’ but I’m sure I could dredge up some sense of enjoyment.”

  “Not now, Rick,” the captain said. “Answers first, murder second. Ready to talk yet?”

  Delphine remained silent. It was somewhat harder to do so than it had been five minutes ago.

  “You sure we can’t expedite the process a bit, Captain?” Chapel asked.

  “Is this going to be a problem?” Ingram furrowed his brow. “Because this sort of sounds like this is going to be a problem.”

  “I’m just glad to see the mighty Richard has a temper like the rest of us,” Monroe sighed.

  “Custer, I swear to God—”

  “Aw, come one, Dick, you know I don’t mean anything by it.”

  “Can you be serious for five fucking minutes?” Chapel seethed. “She hit Zosha. She could have killed her if Hyde hadn’t tranqed her fast enough.”

  “But he did,” Monroe answered breezily, “and thus, your lovely girlfriend is saved from an assassin who, more likely than not, went after you and tripped over her.”

  “You—”

  “It’s a decent question,” Heathcoat chimed in, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head. “Was she aiming for Rick and ran into Zosha? Or was she after Zosha?”

  “Both,” Delphine said.

  Every head in the room turned towards her as she tensed. She hadn’t meant to speak, hadn’t even known she was going to until she already had.

  Sloppy.

  “Good to know,” Heathcoat said slowly, taking a step forward. “And were you targeting anyone in our crew other than them? I assume you were. They aren’t involved in anything that the rest of us aren’t.”

  Delphine kept her jaw clenched tight. As long as she focused, she could keep herself from saying anything she shouldn’t. The question was, was it worth it? What were the advantages of remaining silent versus revealing information that wouldn’t help them in the long run? She didn’t think she could lie convincingly with the drugs still in her system.

  She considered her options, thinking about the reputation of the people in front of her and of skill of the people they would send to finish her job.

  “Kane, Chapel, and Ingram,” she said at last. “As well as any of the other crew members I could kill.”

  “That’s a bit ambitious for one person, don’t you think?” the captain asked, apparently unfazed by the knowledge he was a principle target. “Did you really think you could take out three of us, minimum, and then get away unscathed?”

  “I didn’t think about it at all,” Delphine responded.

  “So, what, you decided to kamikaze us? Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have no idea who you are. Just what did we do to you that made you want to go out in a blaze of glory slaughtering us?”

  Delphine shifted, stretching as much as she could with the restraints in place. “We have never encountered each other, Captain Ingram.”

  “See, I didn’t think so,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “But the thing is, that would mean you’re a hired gun, and I know from experience that they generally don’t take jobs they don’t think they’ll survive to see payment for.”

  “I was not hired,” Delphine answered, “but I am doing this on behalf of my employer.”

  “Okay, is she actually going to answer our questions?” Jones asked. “Or is she just going to play fucking mind games?”

  “I think we should leave her,” Banner said quietly. “She’s not going anywhere, and whether or not someone’s after us, we still need to clear the system. The dock guards’ll blast us out of the sky if they have the chance.”

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving her unguarded,” Chapel said.

  “Where’s she gonna go?” Jones scoffed.

  “She’s on a suicide mission that involves killing us,” Chapel retorted. “If she gets out of here she could still hurt one of us before we knew she was out.” His arm around Kane tightened.

  “Custer,” Ingram said. “You’re on guard duty. With any luck you’ll drive her insane.”

  “I’ll do my very best, Captain,” Monroe said with a smile, saluting.

  “Great. Everyone, back to wherever it is you should be right now. Custer, don’t fuck up.”

  The crew began to file out of the room. Kane took Chapel’s hand and squeezed.

  “You go ahead,” she said. “I want to talk to her.”

  Chapel’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to leave you alone with the woman who is currently trying to kill you?”

  “I’m not alone,” she answered with a slight smile. “Custer’s here.”

  “You want me to leave you alone with the woman who is currently trying to kill you and Custer?”

  “Just go. If I’m not out in five, you have my permission to come in, guns blazing.” Muttering under his breath, Chapel obeyed.

  It was just Delphine, the woman she’d failed to kill, and man who would probably not kill her left in the room. She studied them both, fighting off the haze of the drugs to think of what to say, if anything. Zoshanna Kane: abandoned by her mother and raised by the streets of an asteroid colony infamous for vice. Had the misfortune to be involved with Sylas Rahm disposing of his brother. Intelligent but neither aggressive nor physically threatening. Anthony “Custer” Monroe: No record of criminal activity until joining the crew of the ICS Starstriker, running weapons. Left due to irreconcilable differences with the crew. Similar incidents while working for the crews of the Bloodsport, Sidewinder, and Kingkiller. Newest core member of the Breakwater, serving for three years.

  What did all of that add up to? All that information, and what was it for? They would hardly let her go knowing she still intended to kill them. What was the point of all her knowledge, all her strength, tied to a chair?

  “Um, hi,” Kane said. She looked more awkward than afraid, like maybe Delphine was someone she ran into on the street that she didn’t know how to talk to and not someone who was responsible for the sizable bruise covering the left side of her face. “I have a few questions before I head up. Why are Rick, the captain, and I targets? A few of the others on the ship have done a lot more than we have, and I’ve only been part of the crew for a few months.”

  “Are you talking about the murder charge leveled against Mr. Jones,” Delphine inquired, “or Ms. Heathcoat’s role in the disappearance and presumed death of Captain Strathmore of the Appomattox?”