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yours if'n I got here first, Lyrie. And whatcha ya mean,
     'husband'? Since when? Where'd he come from? He ain't from
     around here.”
    “Pleased to meet
     you,” Miguel greeted the dirt whale most insincerely, his
     sensuous mouth curving into a delinquent grin. He left his
     weapon secured and brought both arms up to encircle Lyrianne
     quite possessively, and as a little payback, he nipped playfully
     at the woman's bared shoulder. “I am not from here, no, but I
     see you have the acquaintance of my little bonita . She
     is quite the blossom, eh, Farley?”
    Upon saying the fat
     man's name, the pilot's dark eyes hardened and his smile became
     less welcoming. “If you do not care to take my lovely...
     bride-to-be at her word, you have only to look at the second
     crash site. You will see we have already begun the salvage.”
    Lyrianne pressed her
     lips together. He’s not very good at being diplomatic, she

     thought with irritation. She elbowed the space jockey in the
     ribs, just hard enough to make it clear she wasn't happy with
     the tone of his voice, then smiled up at Fat Farley.
    “Farley, he's right
     but I apologize, he could have said it nicer.” She placed her
     hand on the fat man's arm without thinking in an effort to
     placate him. He looked down at her with a toothy smile as he
     briefly studied her face before his gaze dropped down to her
     half-open coverall front. His breathing became raspy and he
     licked his lips, causing Lyrianne to shudder as if he'd
     physically touched her where he'd been staring. Slowly his
     hungry little eyes returned to her face, the heat in them
     unmistakable.
    “No hard feelings,
     Lyrie. Throw in two bottles of yer pa's homemade brew and we can
     make a deal. I'm having a devil of a time with the damned-all
     Fed security field, anyway. I can't even get inside to see
     what's what.” He clamped his hand over hers to keep her from
     moving it from his arm. “You help me turn that field off and
     I'll split halfsies on what's inside.” He was deliberately
     ignoring Miguel, who was still right behind Lyrianne, as his
     gaze slid back to her cleavage.
    Seeing as how the
     woman wasn't really anything to him, least of all some long lost
     bride, Miguel had very little reason to feel as provoked as he
     did. Surely if asked he'd chalk it up to the responsibility he
     felt to his employers. The credit amount on his fighter was
     astronomical, as all pilots were reminded of at least
     three-hundred times a day and more if your name was Miguel
     Arturo. That wasn't even taking into account the importance of
     the tech on board. It was nothing the enemy should be able to
     purchase access to under any means. Besides, the fat guy was
     just asking for it.
    “I have a better
     idea.” Miguel flashed his best smile. “How about you, Mister
     Farley, take your sausage hand off of my wife before I chop it
     off and fry it up with butter. I will even share with you, eh?
     If you make it real fast.” His wink was friendly but his eyes
     were not. Farley responded by increasing the pressure on her
     hand and puffing up his enormous chest, breathing through his
     nose.
    Again! He did it
     again! Lyrianne was seething as she pulled her hand out from
     under Fat Farley's sweaty palm. Antagonizing her big stupid
     neighbor was not the way to get anywhere with him. She turned
     and pushed on Miguel's chest then flipped around and shoved even
     harder on the blubber mountain that was Farley's.
    “You two boys want to
     pull out your cocks and compare sizes, go ahead. I'm going to
     see about the salvage.”
    She stomped away,
     almost relishing the stabs of pain that shot up her leg with
     each hard step. When she turned to glare at the two men, she was
     furious. “And there's no deal, Farley. You ever look at me like
     that again and I'll gouge your eyes out. You want to apologize
     to me, then you're welcome to share what I choose to share with
     you. Of the wreckage, I