no clue where Ryker was. Time to return to the giant and get some answers. A few minutes in kuri bondage and the gang member should be more than ready to talk.
Losing his teammate was no way for Grif to prove to the commander he was worthy of greater responsibility.
It had surprised Grif to hear their leader was considering ceding control. He didn’t understand why someone in charge would want to give it up, especially to spend more time with his female. Still, Grif was happy for the guy. The commander had risked everything to help them escape the prison mines, he deserved to do what he wanted.
Making it to the surface had changed everything. Sure, the shell of the prison planet was still a harsh, brutal place, rife with massive animal predators and gangs of roving rapists and murderers. Sure, the threat of the Council and its desire to eradicate their entire crew still loomed large.
But they’d claimed a solid patch of land to serve as the settlement and begun to not just survive, but live. They’d reinforced the perimeter, begun to build shelters of stone and red clay, dug trenches to carry water from the springs to the homes, and filled the caves with scavenged supplies. They were scraping and clawing to turn Dragath25’s wasteland into a thriving community.
Grif intended to do whatever it took to protect it.
He shoved back on his elbows, taking one last glance at the scene below.
Baldy raised his shovel higher, as if about to take a swing.
The creature jerked back, the fur parted and…a hand snaked out, palm up and out as if warding off an attack.
A delicate, small hand. With five long, thin fingers and short, ragged nails.
Grif’s understanding shifted. Along with his priorities.
Not an animal, after all. A human. A female. Covered from head to toe in a thick animal pelt that hid every inch of her.
That camouflage wouldn’t save her here.
Gripping the roof edge, he flipped over and, legs dangling, lowered himself until he dropped to the dirt without a sound. He slid into a low crouch.
Ryker always gave him shit about having a White Knight complex, but the judgmental bastard wasn’t here now.
Even if he were, it wouldn’t change things for Grif. There were two kinds of people in the world. Those he needed to rescue and those they needed rescuing from. The categories were simple, uncomplicated, and immutable.
He slunk closer.
“Look, cunt. We told you—”
Rising like a cresting wave, Grif slammed his ax into the back of the man’s head. The bully with the braids folded without another sound.
“What the fuck?” Whirling, the other guard swung his weapon.
Not fast enough. Grif’s rope lashed out, striking the bald man’s wrist. The shovel flew from his hands. Grif took advantage, connecting the flat of his ax with the male’s jaw. The gang-mate crumpled.
Grif’s attention snapped to the covered female.
She stumbled back, that small, delicate hand still up and out. Ragged nails, but clean. Small cuts on her fingers. The skin on the back of her hand appeared more golden that any he’d seen before. He chalked it up to a strange trick of the light.
“It’s okay.” He was close enough now to see narrow eye slits and, beneath them the hint of long, dark lashes and a sliver of blue eyes as bright as an iridescent solar flare. Pretty.
Her palm slapped the air to ward him off.
An optimistic effort. She was so tiny, the top of her head barely reached his chest.
“Don’t be afraid.” He stepped over the downed gang-mate. “You’re safe. But we can’t stay here.”
There wasn’t a lot of time for planning or questions. Those would have to come later. Once he’d located Ryker and they’d completed their mission. Plus, his expertise with females leaned more toward the initial, lighthearted banter that reeled them in and the hard, rough fucking that kept them beneath him through the night. Anything more had been ground out of him long ago.
He took another step closer. “I’m one of the good guys.”
No answer. No movement. Definitely no swoon of relief.
He offered up his best smile, replete with gleaming white teeth, square jaw, and bright green eyes that crinkled at the corners, care of his family’s Irish Old Earth ancestors. The whole package reminded him far too much of a face he despised, but females tended to have a different reaction. “Think of me as your friendly neighborhood rescue team of one.”
Still nothing.
He shifted his expression to sympathetic. “You’re scared. I get it, but