When the Starrs Align by Marie Harte Page B

anew with her eyes and used that short moment of inattention to cuff his chin. The blow knocked him back enough that she could use what she knew of the Mardu to her advantage. Clamping one hand on his wrist and another to his thigh, she tugged on the inner bands of his feralis nerves and took him to blessed unconsciousness.
    The damage she’d done to both men would keep them out of it for at least half an hour if not more, enough time for her to scout the place, find some restraints, and then convince Cheltam that he’d be helping her, one way or the other.
    * * * *
    Rafe of Mardu swore as he checked his timepiece again. Gar had a bad habit of ignoring him to suit his convenience. It wasn’t as if Rafe wanted to be here, checking on his older brother. But Sernal, damn his hide, had ordered him to.
    “Either check on Gar and ascertain his readiness, or be prepared to take on the roll of Cheltam again,” Sernal, the oldest of the Mardu brothers, ordered. “Though I have to say, Gar makes a hell of a crook, almost better than you were.”
    “As if,” Rafe muttered and kicked at a fallen shoe. By Flor’s dagger, his brother was a slob. Gar’s bedroom looked as if a solar storm had lit it. Clothing scattered everywhere. Shoes, socks, and… hell, was that a woman’s undergarment hanging from the overhead fan?
    Rafe perked up, pleased at the thought that his brother might finally be putting the past behind him. Not that Rafe expected Gar to ever get over the loss of his wife and son. But hell, it had been nearly three years now. Three years of consuming grief, defeat and rage swimming in Gar’s gaze, one once so like his own. Whereas once he and Gar had been identical, the years of pain had ravaged Gar’s features, turning the once warm Mardu into a steely-eyed devil, one who liked nothing better than to annoy those he considered bothersome. Still, people who didn’t know them well took them as twins. As if Rafe’s head was anywhere near as hard as that of his stubborn idiot of a brother.
    “Fuck this.” Rafe pushed past the sloppy bedroom he’d been relegated to and stomped down the hallway, which, thankfully, remained tidy. It hadn’t been easy to give up his plum undercover assignment as Cheltam—an independent crime lord—but Rafe had been getting restless. At the time, he’d thought more involvement with the peacemakers would cure him of his malaise. Unfortunately, Sernal was more annoying than boredom. Though his brother, now the head of Peacemaker Central—a term which annoyed Sernal to no end—had an efficiency rate bordering on incredible, he also had a major stick up his ass. Sernal always adhered to the rules and had an irritating tendency to see the world in black and white, or so it seemed to Rafe.
    I ought to kick Gar out and resume my duties as Cheltam. Let Gar deal with Sernal on a daily basis. Rafe snorted with amusement, imagining his older brothers facing off. Catam, their youngest sibling, had avoided joining the peacemakers by taking up with a bounty hunting crew. Smartest one in the litter. Not only did the little jerk not have to follow the rules, but he’d become a successful bounty hunter, husband and proud father to two mischievous little girls. And how Rafe’s mother loved the justice of that.
    Rafe smirked, thinking about the last time he’d seen his nieces as he sought Gar. Those little beauties had nearly started an all-out war by stealing a royal kitten from Prince—
    The sight that met his eyes stopped Rafe in his tracks. The study, where he’d thought to find his brother schmoozing with Drekk, looked empty, save for the two unmoving bodies slumped on the ground. Hurriedly checking both Gar and Drekk, he found, to his relief, both of them breathing but unconscious.
    Knowing he needed to get a bead on the perpetrator before more damage was done—Flor forbid anyone discover Cheltam was actually a peacemaker—Rafe called on his Xema abilities and drew out his pistol.