Whispers in the Dawn Read Online Free Page A

had sucked him into her world of crazy magicians and acts performed only by characters in medieval fantasies. Why would anyone want to attack her? Wasn’t it too soon for the Murrach‘s men to know that Roland Baylon had departed with great haste? Or was Murrach Pardua, the self-styled Lord of Romaydia, cognisant of what went on everywhere on his turf? The realisation made Harley uneasy. He was double-dealing and he very likely would not return home from this mission, except in a black plastic bag.
    Against his better judgment, he offered an explanation for the attack, one she hadn’t asked for. “When you bumped into him earlier, he thought you were, let’s say, propositioning him. So he wanted to make good on your offer when you weren’t looking, just in case he was making a mistake and you weren’t.” He wasn’t certain that was the truth. He had arrived only moments earlier to see her being manhandled, and had no idea whether she’d deserved the attention or not. His gentlemanly instincts had kicked in.
    Her sapphire eyes flashed fire and ice all at once. Her lips, pretty coral temptations begging for a kiss, opened and shut before she croaked, “Were you following me?”
    He shook his head once, wishing he could squeeze her throat and churn the information he needed out of her. But he couldn’t afford the unwanted attention that action would get him, in case the station’s disorganised law happened to arrive. He could hardly use his strong-arm tactics here. He had to lure her, like a bee to a flower.
    “Then how do you know what he wanted?”
    “A wild guess,” he lied. “I happened to be going in the same direction as you were, so I was slightly behind you.” By chance, he had been walking through a pack of humans and aliens in the public area when he had come upon Odessa. He hadn’t known who she was, but had returned to his quarters to direct a visual search of the Romaydian archives. She was Odessa Grante, a woman who had come with Roland Baylon on his ship, the Drifter . That one fact alone was enough for his buried anger to flare up. If she was here, and Baylon wasn’t, she was probably dealing drugs or up to some illegal activity in Baylon’s stead.
    He watched her mull over his statement. Her breasts, high and firm, lifted and fell with every breath she took. Grudgingly, he admitted she reminded him of his late wife, Abby, with her hair the colour of yellow autumn leaves in the sun. She was tough, yet every inch a female, but what was the truth beyond the façade?
    “And you want me to believe that?” she asked, planting her fists on her hips in a rather melodramatic manner.
    The uneasiness notched upwards. Apparently she was used to getting her own way and if she didn’t, she was capable of throwing a tantrum. Or was this her actress persona again?
    “You have no reason to disbelieve me.” Any man who tried to browbeat her, whether in bed or out, was in for a surprise. Where was he going with this train of thought? He could ill afford thinking of her in that way. Women in bed and assignments from Murrach Pardua didn’t mix. He couldn’t afford to let his attention slip for even half a second. The only other assignment during which he had allowed himself to be persuaded into a sexual entanglement was when he had been married to Abby. Sexual liaisons on the job slowed down critical response times, especially when they had to be made within seconds.
    “I honestly don’t know who to believe,” she muttered.
    For a solitary moment, Dak allowed himself to feel pity for her. Mentally, he cursed himself. Hadn’t he discovered that feelings led to heartache, as falling in love with Abby and losing her had? “Give me the benefit of the doubt,” he said in a low growl. “No one else will help you on this station.”
    His quiet words must have struck hard. She recoiled in fear and stepped back, possibly readying herself to fend him off. The irresistible urge to kiss her sensuous lips