Christine D'Abo - No Quarter, mm
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No Quarter
When bounty hunter Gar is given a simple locate-and-retrieve mission, he’s
convinced it’s a waste of his skills. His success rate is legendary, and this assignment is
almost too easy.
There isn’t a more prolific space pirate in the galaxy than Captain Faolan. When he
walks into a bar with a proposition heavy in mind, he’s not expecting anything to go
wrong.
Forced from his solitary existence to work with Faolan, Gar can’t deny his need and
desire for a man who he should put in prison. When the hunter becomes the hunted,
Gar must learn to put his faith in a man he doesn’t know, or run the risk of ending up
dead.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
No Quarter
ISBN 9781419924606
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No Quarter Copyright © 2010 Christine d’Abo
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover art by Dar Albert
Electronic book publication March 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in
part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing,
Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales
is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
N
O
Q
UARTER
Christine d’Abo
No Quarter
Chapter One
Gar Stitt walked silently into The Space Jock—the seediest bar on Tybal Station—
with a clear head and clear purpose. The stench of vomit, sex and stale
rymak
beer was
enough to turn the stomach of even the most seasoned bounty hunter, but did little to
distract Gar from his task. Fingers laced together behind his back, he sidestepped a
drunk who was on his way to the floor, blood dripping from his nose where he’d been
punched moments before.
Careful to avoid getting any of the filth from the bar or its patrons on him, Gar
quickly scanned the darkened room for his mark. Humans and aliens alike clung
haphazardly to the stools and were draped across tables—the mix of colors was muted
by the haze of the space. A Helexian female nearly walked into him, her white hair and
tendrils flushing blue with embarrassment before she scurried away. None were the
man he was looking for.
In and out, he’d been promised—a quick job and then out to the middle of nowhere
for a much-needed break. Gar had already lingered on the station longer than he’d
intended, tracking his target. If anyone but Jason had asked him to take care of the
matter, he would have walked away. Six months on various hunts was enough to suck
the life out of anyone—Gar was no exception.
He’d been in the Guild long enough that he didn’t get stuck with cleanup duties
often, so he knew there was something special about this case. Not that Gar could say
no to the man who’d given him a renewed sense of purpose after the murder of his
family, even if it meant coming to The Space Jock. Jason asked and Gar jumped. The
positive point to the whole thing was a chance to see the infamous captain again.
Suppressing a sigh, he focused his attention back to the crowd. For the briefest of
seconds he considered that his reconnaissance report might have misled him. This
didn’t seem like the captain’s normal type of entertainment haven if his file was to be
believed. It was too crowded, too exposed, too deep in enemy territory. It went against
the pattern and nothing good happened when normal routines changed.
Fantastic.
Loud, throbbing beats pounded though Gar’s body until the fine hairs on the back
of his neck stood on end and his brain rattled in his head. He was sure this qualified as
music somewhere in the universe, but nowhere
he’d
ever want to visit. What would
bring the captain to a hellhole like this? Not that his mark had a particularly discerning
reputation, but from the picture in his data file Gar thought he would have had better
taste. Mind you, this was the same man who’d had the balls to waltz into Jason’s
backyard and try to pull a scam.
Gar would have to cut those balls off.
5
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