He moved his hand up to her lower back, then rubbed his thumb in a small circle just above the base of her spine. Who knew that was an erogenous zone?

She tried to ignore it.

"I hired you," he said, "so I could track you."

"If you were good, you should have tracked me before."

He let her go and stepped back. She felt the physical loss, but she didn't move.

"I was going to kill you," he said. "In the act."

"The hero defense," she said. "Why didn't you?"

His gaze met hers, and something flickered through his blue eyes, something she didn't quite recognize. Desire? Anger? She couldn't quite tell.

"Because you were amusing," he said.

Whatever she had expected, it hadn't been that. "Amusing?"

"You did everything out of order. You seduce him-which, I must say, was effective-and then you break his neck. Then you realize you need to dispose of the body, so you get him down to the airlock-"

"I planned that," she said.

He smiled. "Sort of," he said. "You planned it sort of. You wanted to screw him in the hallway, but he was a prude. He wouldn't go. If he'd gone down there with you, then you could have broken his neck and shoved him out before he knew what hit him. But he wouldn't go, and you got disgusted by him-"

"I did not," she said.

"I saw that look on your face when he had his arms around you. You looked like you'd stuck your hand in a pile of garbage."

She had felt that way too. So he had been watching-from somewhere. "I'm not a prost.i.tute," she said.

"Obviously," he said, and she felt a slight sting in his words. He must have noticed her expression-again-and his smile grew. "I meant, with him. With me, you seemed genuine enough."

She had been genuine. For G.o.dssake, this man attracted her, and he knew it. But she didn't tell him that.

He was arrogant enough.

"The man had no adventure in his soul, and no amount of cajoling was going to change him, so you got frustrated and snapped his neck."

She had. Dammit.

"Then you had to get him to the airlock. Nice work that. I'm amazed no one saw you. First you dragged him, and then when you knew the cameras were disabled, you carried him. You're stronger than you look."

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then cupped her chin. "But it was the airlock itself that I found most appealing." He let his hand fall away. "Why didn't you study the specs?"

"I did," she said, "but they changed them."

"Hmm," he said as if he didn't believe her. "You were trying to avoid the alarm, which was the least of your problems."

"Oh?"

"Standing in the corridor with a dead man, that was your biggest problem," he said.

"I was trying to solve that," she snapped.

"Not well," he said. "So I stepped in."

"You stepped in because I couldn't open an airlock?" she asked.

"No," he said, grinning. "Because you made me laugh."

She bristled. "It wasn't funny."

"It was ridiculous. No one who had training would have done any of the things you did."

"But it worked. He's dead."

"And gone," Misha said. "But here's the rub, Rikki. Two thousand pa.s.sengers boarded this ship. One thousand nine hundred and ninety nine will disembark. Someone will eventually notice the discrepancy and want to know why. Then they'll look for someone like me."

"Yes, well, they shouldn't have trouble finding you, since you're hiding so well," she said indulging in her own bit of sarcasm.

"I don't have to hide," he said. "This is my job. It's people like you that screw me up."

She glared at him. "So you want to train me so that you don't get arrested."

"Yes," he said.

She rolled her eyes and continued to the suite's bathroom. He followed.

"I'm not going to train so you can feel better," she said as she went through the clear door.

He caught it before she could close it. "It's not so that I feel better," he said. "Some day, you'll screw up so badly that someone will kill you."

"What does that matter to you?" she asked. "You were going to kill me until you realized I made you laugh."

He studied her for a moment. "You don't remember how we met, do you?"

"No," she said flatly.

His gaze met hers. That look again, the one she couldn't quite read, pa.s.sed through his eyes.

"I'm the one who dragged you out of that burning room," he said softly. "The night my mother killed your father. The night you realized that sometimes the universe is a better place without certain people in it."

Her chest ached suddenly, like it had that night, the house burning around her. The boy-he wasn't much older than she was-arm around her shoulder, pulling her forward, like he had done in the corridor just the night before, pulling her, keeping her on her feet, getting her out.

It'll be all right, he said. He won't hurt you any more.

Misha had all the scars, on his chest and his back, scars from a dozen different wounds. She'd had hers removed, but they remained, just like his. None of his scars were burns.

None of hers were either.

And none of hers were inflicted after her father died. In that fire, or so everyone believed.

She never said a word about the woman who had come into the living room of their modest house or the blond boy who had stood silently behind her, watching her work.

Rikki's father had begged. He had always told Rikki that begging got you nowhere, and he had been right. It had gotten him nowhere.

The woman had killed him as easily as Rikki had killed Testrail. One sudden movement, the snap of a neck, and the fire, so easily set in barracks houses.

Later, they said it was for the good that her father had died. He'd been selling governmental secrets. He would have been indicted, things would have come out. Better that it all ended.

And someone-the woman at the hospital who had led her away from the boy, who had put Rikki into state custody-had said, Sometimes it's better not to say what you saw, as if she had known.

She had known. Rikki became convinced of that much later. Much later.

"When did you know who I was?" she asked. "When you hired me?"

He shook his head. "When you registered on the ship. You used your own name."

"Why not?" she said. "I'm not wanted."

"Not yet," he said. "Maybe not ever if you let me train you."

"Why would you do that?" she asked. "Because you saved my life once?"

For a half second, she thought he was going to nod. Then half of his mouth turned up in a smile, as if the thought bemused him.

"Because," he said with that trace of an accent, "when I tucked you under my arm in that corridor last night, I wanted to kiss you. I haven't wanted to kiss anyone in very long time."

She had felt that too. That pull toward him. She still felt it.

Dammit.

"So you kissed me," she said. "Was it worth the risk?"

His grin reached his eyes. He was unbelievably handsome when he smiled. When he really smiled, and his eyes twinkled, and his entire face engaged.

"Only if," he said, "you let me kiss you again."

"Will that be part of the training?" she asked.

"I think that would be one of the benefits of training," he said, pulling her close.

"For whom?" she asked.

"For me," he said as he leaned in to kiss her. "Definitely for me."

She slipped her hands around him, feeling those scars on his skin. The kisses would be worthwhile for her as well.

But she wasn't going to tell him.

She wasn't going to tell him anything-not how relieved she was to get help nor how aroused she was whenever he got too close.

Although, she had a hunch he already knew that.

Or could guess.

After all, he was not a dumb man.

And she, for all her ineptness, was not a dumb woman. Just an untrained one.

Except in one area.

She looped her fingers around the waistband of his pants and pulled him into the bathroom.

"We're not supposed to leave for twenty-four hours," she said. "We'll need to keep busy."

"Doing what?" he asked.

"Let me show you," she said, and kicked the door shut.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS.

In addition to writing stories in the science fiction, fantasy, horror, thriller, and comedy genres for anthologies like, Steampunk'd, Timeshares, Zombie Racc.o.o.ns & Killer Bunnies, Imaginary Friends, The Dimension Next Door, Front Lines, and Fellowship Fantastic, Donald J. Bingle is the author of Forced Conversion and GREENSWORD: A Tale of Extreme Global Warming. Also check out his webpage at www.donaldjbingle.comfor complete writing information and an update on his most recent novel, a spy thriller. He is a member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, the International Thriller Writers, the International a.s.sociation of Media Tie-In Writers, the GenCon Writer's Symposium, and the St. Charles Writers Group.

Lois McMaster Bujold was born in Columbus, Ohio, in 1949; she now lives in Minneapolis. She began reading SF at age nine. Romances came later, when she discovered Georgette Heyer in her early twenties. She started writing for professional publication in 1982, a goal achieved in 1986 with her first three SF novels, Shards of Honor, The Warrior's Apprentice, and Ethan of Athos. Bujold went on to write the Nebula-winning Falling Free and many other books featuring her popular character Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, his family, friends, and enemies. The series includes three Hugo Award-winning novels; readers interested in learning more about the far-flung Vorkosigan clan are encouraged to start with the omnibus Cordelia's Honor. Her books have appeared on numerous bestsellers lists, and have been translated into seventeen languages. A fan-run website devoted to her work, The Bujold Nexus, may be found at www.dendarii.com.

After starting out in science fiction and fantasy, Lillian Stewart Carl is now writing contemporary novels blending mystery, romace, and fantasy, along with short mystery and fantasy stories. Among many other novels, such as the romantic fantasy Blackness Tower and the spiritual thriller Lucifer's Crown, Lillian is the author of the Jean Fairbain/Alasdair Cameron cross-genre mystery series-America's exile and Scotland's finest on the trail of all-too-living legends-which concludes with The Blue Hackle. Her second short story collection, The Muse and Other Stories of History, Mystery, and Myth, appeared in 2007. She has lived for many years in North Texas, in a book-lined cloister cleverly disguised as a tract house. Her web site is http://www.lillianstewartcarl.com Brenda Cooper has published fiction in, Nature, a.n.a.log , Oceans of the Mind, Strange Horizons, in the anthologies, Sun in Glory, Maiden, Matron, Crone, Time After Time, and more. Brenda's collaborative fiction with Larry Niven has appeared in a.n.a.log and Asimov's. She and Larry have a collaborative novel, Building Harlequin's Moon, available now in bookstores. Her solo novel, The Silver Ship and the Sea, was released in 2007. Brenda lives in Bellevue, Washington, with her partner Toni, Toni's daughter, Katie, a border collie, and a golden retriever. By day, she is the City of Kirkland's CIO, and at night and in early morning hours, she's a futurist and writer. So she's trying to both save and entertain the world, with sometimes comical results as the two activities collide, and sometimes, blend. Neither, of course, is entirely possible.

Anita Ensal has always been intrigued by possibilities inherent in myths and legends. She likes to find both the fantastical element in the mundane and the ordinary component within the incredible. She writes in all areas of speculative fiction and is honored to be a part of this anthology. Her stories have also appeared in Eposic's, The Book of Exodi, and at Raphael's Village (www.raphaelsvillage.com), as well as in Boondocks Fantasy. You can read more from her at her blog, Fantastical Fiction, at www.anitaensal.blogspot.com.

Nina Kiriki Hoffman has been writing science fiction and fantasy for almost thirty years and has sold more than two hundred fifty stories, plus novels and juvenile and media tie-in books. Her works have been finalists for the World Fantasy, Philip K. d.i.c.k, Sturgeon, and Endeavour awards. Her first novel, The Thread That Binds the Bones, won a Bram Stoker Award, and her short story, "Trophy Wives," won a Nebula. Her middle school fantasy novel, Thresholds, came out in 2010. Nina does production work for The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and teaches short story writing through her local community college. She also works with teen writers. She lives in Eugene, Oregon, with several cats, a mannequin, and many strange toys.

Sylvia Kelso lives in North Queensland, Australia, and writes fantasy and science fiction, usually set in a.n.a.logue or outright Australian landscapes. She has a Creative Writing MA built around one SF Novel using alternate North Queenslands. Her short stories have appeared in Antipodes: A North American Journal of Australian and New Zealand Literature, and in US and Australian anthologies. Two of her five novels have been finalists for best fantasy novel in the Aurealis Australian genre fiction awards. A collection of Sylvia Kelso's essays ent.i.tled, Three Observations and a Dialogue Round and About SF, was released in 2009. Her most recent fantasy novel, Source, was released in 2010.

Jay Lake lives in Portland, Oregon, where he works on numerous writing and editing projects. His 2010 books are: Pinion The Specific Gravity of Grief, The Baby Killers, and The Sky That Wraps. His short fiction appears regularly in literary and genre markets worldwide. Jay is a winner of the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and a multiple nominee for the Hugo and World Fantasy Awards.

Jody Lynn Nye lists her main career activity as "spoiling cats." She lives northwest of Chicago with two of the above and her husband, author and packager, Bill Fawcett. She has published more than thirty-five books, including six contemporary fantasies, four SF novels, four novels in collaboration with Anne McCaffrey, including, The Ship Who Won; edited a humorous anthology about mothers, Don't Forget Your s.p.a.cesuit, Dear!; and written over a hundred short stories. Her latest books are, An Unexpected Apprentice, and Myth-Chief, co-written with Robert Asprin.

Shannon Page was born on Halloween night and spent her early years on a commune in northern California's backwoods. A childhood without television gave her a great love of books and the worlds she found in them. She wrote her first book, an adventure story starring her cat, at the age of seven. Sadly, that work is currently out of print, but her short fiction has appeared in Clarkesworld , Interzone, and Fantasy (with Jay Lake), Black Static, and several independent press anthologies. Shannon is a longtime pract.i.tioner of Ashtanga yoga, has no tattoos, and lives in Portland, Oregon, with nineteen orchids and an awful lot of books.

Kristine Kathryn Rusch is a bestselling, award-winning author who has written under a variety of names in fantasy, science fiction, mystery and romance. Her latest novel Diving into the Wreck is based on the award-winning novellas first published in Asimov's SF Magazine.

Steven H Silver is the publisher of ISFiC Press. He has edited anthologies for DAW (Wondrous Beginnings, Magical Beginnings, and horrible Beginnings) and two collections of Lester del Rey's work for NESFA Press (War and s.p.a.ce and Robots and Magic). His short fiction has appeared in Helix SF andZombie Racc.o.o.ns and Killer Bunnies. The founder of the Sidewise Award for Alternate History. He has been nominated for the Hugo Award in fan categories twelve times.