Author: P.J. Schnyder
The Triton Experiment #1
Publisher: Carina Press
Released: July 4, 2011
A new commotion started at the entryway. Even the techo-geeks in the corner stirred from their hologame to peek over the booth and get a good look.
Mercs and servicemen alike fell like downed logs. It took a minute for Rygard to see what cleared a path through the minefield of fighting men, and when he did, he wondered if he’d had one drink too many.
Lightning quick, a little package of curves dodged a drunken punch, grabbed the merc’s arm and used his momentum to send him over a table. She brushed dark waves of hair out of her eyes before planting a hand in a serviceman’s back, helping him into a pile of his friends. Two other servicemen focused enough to rush her, but crouching low she delivered a powerful leg sweep. A sharp elbow to the sternum rendered each of the out of commission. Straightening, she continued her course, heading directly for Syn and the bar. By the time she made it, unconscious and groaning men lay in her wake. Her left hook was a thing of beauty, and she had a wicked right slanted kick.
The heat of her feral glare seared through Rygard as she passed, moving on when he didn’t offer any threat. Had he ever seen such a deep blue before? She chose the very last stool, sitting with her back to the wall. When she ordered a scotch, he thought he’d died and found the perfect angel.
Syn placed a glass of amber in front of her. “On the house. You saved me the trouble of calling security.”
Rygard chuckled. Men picked themselves up off the floor and it seemed they’d forgotten the whirlwind who had passed through them. A wonderfully mind-numbing thing, alcohol. They probably wouldn’t want to remember they’d gotten their asses handed to them by a pint-sized explosions of sexy anyway.
Well, maybe they would.
He watcher her swirl her scotch, inhaling slowly before taking a long sip. When she set the glass down, it became obvious she would need a refill in short order.
Without lifting her face, she glanced up, her fierce gaze locking on him through a dark veil of thick, long lashes. He realized he’d better say something or she might take offense at his regard.
Lifting his drink, he nodded. “Mind if I buy you another?”
Kaitlyn studied the man for a beat before the question popped out. “Why?”
Not what he’d been expecting, probably, because he blinked, caught without a response. The light from the bar top caught gold highlights in the man’s hazel eyes. Not a pretty boy, which won him points in her book, his features too strong for the beautiful boy toy look and his build too massive. Terran military, by uniform. Skuld would call him ruggedly handsome, with the stubble across his jaw and barely regulation haircut.
He shrugged. “You look like you could use one, or more.”
True. Before she could answer, he left his stool and walked toward her. A fighter, and a fast one, despite the bulk suggested by his expansive chest and shoulders. She didn’t mistake the potential in the way he moved. Unlike the rest of the males in the room, he wasn’t inebriated to the point of slowed reaction time.
He also seemed aware of her assessment, holding his hands out to his sides in a sign of not threat as he sat on the stool net to her. His gaze never left hers. The challenge he offered had nothing to do with a fight and everything to do with her.
“Maybe.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
He smiled, the flash of white almost predatory. “Maybe usually means yes.”
“Maybe means maybe,” she snapped. She didn’t like word games.
Dark eyebrows shot up and those hands opened wide again. “Okay, maybe.” He shifted to lean on the bar, not closer to her but not father away either. “Let me know when maybe turns into a yes or a no.”