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Dare set his napkin down and was about to follow, when he saw Miss Johns leave.

Go to the lounge, Phoenix. Have a Kelton brandy and relax.

But that little feeling in the back of his head was still nagging him. The same feeling he got when something was about to go wrong. The same feeling that used to warn him that his stepfather was about to descend the basement steps to beat the hell out of him.

A muscle ticked in Dare’s jaw. Ignoring the others, he followed Miss Johns out of the dining room.

She was already at the end of the corridor. He paused and waited. She hesitated, then turned.

Away from the guest cabins.

Interesting. Not many parts of the ship were off-limits to the passengers. She was probably just taking a look around.

He waited a beat. Then he followed her.

Dakota wandered the ship. She wanted to get the lay of the land. She liked being ready for anything.

On her mental checklist were the escape pods, the engine room, and the shuttle bay. But all in good time. She didn’t need to be caught in the engine room during her first few hours aboard.

She turned a corner. Stars, the dinner had been stressful. She’d been hyperaware of Dare, and everything he’d said and done. Thankfully, he’d been occupied with Amber Lynn’s relentless flirting.

Dakota snorted. The woman should have just hung a neon sign around her neck saying “ready and willing.” Dakota tried to remember the last time she’d taken a man to her bed. A while. A long while. Men were just so…bothersome. They needed time and attention, and they demanded stuff. She usually stuck to anonymous, one-night hookups when the urge got too bad. She’d grown up on a planet where accepting a man’s claim was tantamount to letting him rule your life. She shrugged. She didn’t have time for, or interest in, men.

Spying some double doors at the end of the hall, she headed that way. The word Arboretum was inscribed on the metal.

Why not? It might be nice to breathe some real air made by trees rather than recycled ventilation for a change.

The doors whispered open and she walked inside. Wow. The space was quite large for a ship of this size, with a large, synth-glass window overhead. It showcased a beautiful view of the stars.

She breathed deep. Stars, it smelled so…green and fresh. She kicked off her shoes, and sank her toes into the lush grass. One tall tree dominated the center of the space, surrounded by grass and other smaller trees and shrubs. A pretty stone bench sat under the branches of the large tree. She took another breath. Something was blooming, and the lush, perfumed scent was intoxicating.

One by one, her tense muscles relaxed. For the first time since she’d pretended to join the craziness that was Golden Nova to get close to the map, she felt pretty safe. She wished she could take off her coat and wig, but she couldn’t risk it.

The lights were low, and she figured they were on a timer. The trees, no doubt, got a heavy dose of simulated sunlight at certain times of the day to ensure they stayed healthy.

She headed toward the bench. Maybe she’d take a few minutes and just chill out for a little bit. Then she’d continue her exploration of the ship.

She’d almost reached the bench when the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Instinct kicked in, and she forced herself to stay relaxed, her steps slowing. She strained to hear or see what had set her senses off.

The crime-and-gang-ridden world she’d had the misfortune to grow up on had honed her instincts to the sharpest edge. If something didn’t feel right, she paid attention. If an action felt off, she didn’t do it. Facts be damned.

She pretended to fiddle with the sleeve of her coat and slowly turned her head.

All she could see were tree branches, green leaves, and shadows. Her view of the door was blocked by a bush. Had someone entered after her?

Time to go. Dakota headed back toward her discarded shoes.

A body came barreling out of nowhere, and slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. She landed on the grass with an oof and all the air was squeezed from her lungs.

She exploded into action. She slammed a punch at her attacker’s head. He dodged, and in the muted light, she saw Davarr the monk’s face.

He no longer looked patient and kind. His expression was now focused and intense. He raised an arm, and light glinted off the knife he was holding.

Shit. She shoved at him with all her strength. He grunted and lost his balance. He fell off her, and she instantly rolled.

Jumping to her feet, she took two steps toward the door, before something tugged on the back of her coat. She was yanked backward.

A hand fisted in her wig, pulling her head back viciously.