THE PARADISE SNARE(111)

She kissed his forehead and said softly, “There’s nothing to forgive.

It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be in a pleasurehouse being passed around from one stormtrooper to another.

Never forget that, Han. You are a hero. You saved me, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I couldn’t say it before … but … I want you to know. I love you, Bria.”

She nodded, and a tear broke loose and coursed down her cheek. Han wiped it away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry,” he said. “I admit I came close to it myself, earlier, but I’ve been thinking. If we can just get off this blasted world, I know we can manage. We can work. We’ll make a life I know we can.” He hesitated, then blurted, “We could even get married, sweetheart. If you want.”

He could tell she was profoundly moved by his awkward proposal, but she shook her head. “Your dreams, Han. You can’t give them up. We’ve gotten this close. We have to think of something. You’re going to be an officer in the Imperial Navy, remember?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Not anymore, Bria. That’s over, now.

I’ve gotta think of what else I’m gonna do with my life.”

“Oh, Han!” she began to cry in earnest. “I can’t bear to see you so hurt!”

“I’m okay,” he insisted, though it was a lie.

Bria laid her head against his chest, then held him tightly. “We’re okay for tonight,” Han said. “Tomorrow we’ve gotta do some heavyduty planning.”

She was kissing him now, his cheek, his chin, his jaw … little, desperate, grazing kisses. Han held her tightly and captured her mouth, kissing her, touching her cheek, running his fingers through her hair, desperate to touch her, to be healed by her touch.

The dingy little room faded away, and all he could think about was how glad he was to be with her …

In the early hours before daylight, on this world where night and day meant very little to anyone who wasn’t living a wealthy “top-level” existence, Bria Tharen sat huddled in the grubby, cramped refresher unit.

In her hands was a stylus, and before her was a sheet of flimsy and a large stack of credits.

Faintly, from the bedroom, she could hear Han snoring lightly. He was so exhausted he’d never heard her get up and leave, never awakened when she’d returned, hours later.

Now she struggled with the flimsy and the stylus, stopping every so often to wipe away the tears that blurred her eyes, making it almost impossible to write. Six or seven times she’d voided the flimsy and started over, but time was ticking by, and she couldn’t be here when Han awoke. If he awakened, Bria knew, she’d never, ever, be able to make herself go.

So she was taking the coward’s way out, once again. Her sobs caught in her throat, and she pressed both hands against her chest. For a moment she wondered whether her heart might stop from the pain she felt, then she shook her head and told herself to stop delaying. I’m so sorry, she made herself write. Please forgive me for doing this …

Tonight, for the first time, she’d realized that Han might not achieve his lifelong dream if she stayed with him. She’d been dragging him down, holding him back, for weeks, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it.

But tonight … seeing the anguish in his eyes, hearing the catch in his voice—it had been too terrible to bear.

So she had slipped out, found a bar where the proprietor had let her pay him to borrow his comm unit, and called her father. Bria had appealed for help, both for herself and for Han. The pile of credit vouchers on the floor was the result. Renn Tharen was a man who knew how to get things done, and he had wasted no time. The money had been delivered to Bria by one of her father’s Coruscant business associates, who had handed her the credits, refused thanks, then headed back out into the night, clearly glad to get away from the sleazy, all-night tavern.

During their brief conversation, Bria’s father had warned her not to come home. Renn Tharen told her that inspectors from CorSec had come to the house shortly after Bria and Han escaped, asking about Bria’s whereabouts.

“I told them nothing,” he said. “And your brother and mother aren’t speaking to me, because I cut off their allowances for a month, even though they swore they hadn’t called CorSec. Be careful, dear . .

.”

“I will, Dad,” Bria promised. “I love you, Dad. Thanks …”

I’ve hurt him, too, Bria thought. Why do I always hurt the people I love the most?

Despair filled her, but she refused to let herself break down. All she could do for Han, if she loved him, was to leave him. Be strong, Bria, she commanded herself.