When you order your husband out of your life at blaster point, it may cause some awkwardness the next time you two run into each other.
“Cuff yourself to the rail,” she said sharply.
Blade made no move to obey. “Why?”
“I want answers and I don’t want you running away again.”
He laughed. “We’re on a ship in hyperspace, Bo,” he said. “Where am I going to go?”
“Nowhere if you put those on.”
He glanced at the binders in his hand, unaffected by her attempt to regain control. “Are you sure you want me to put these on?”
“I’m sure.” Something in his tone set off her warning bells. “Why?”
He chuckled and gamely fastened one end to the rail behind his head and the other to his wrist. “Because these things are older than you are.”
“So are you,” she snapped. “No tricks, Devon. I’m not in a playing mood so no games.”
“No games,” he assured her. “Now if you want my cooperation, you’ll put that blaster over there before you accidentally shoot something.” He nodded towards the bunk across from him. “Honestly, Barron,” he tsked. “I’ve never seen your hand shake so badly while holding a weapon. If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you were nervous about something.”