Nightchaser

by Amanda Bouchet

  “I gotta go,” Shade said. “He’s here.” No lies in any of that. He even angled the camera to catch the property mogul in his flashy white suit. That fucker had never done him a single favor—until now.

  “I would say good luck, but I don’t really care,” Raquel said. “And when we find her, you won’t get a cut.”

  “If this deal goes south, I’ll find her, and you can stay the hell away from what’s mine this time,” Shade growled before cutting them off. He disconnected the entire com unit for good measure, watching as White took Tess’s hand and planted his foul mouth on the back of it.

  Tess didn’t shrink away, but she did look like she wanted to snatch her hand back. She obviously knew a snake when she saw one. Too bad he hadn’t been as smart in the days following his parents’ death, when he’d discovered problems he’d never expected, and been forced to deal with things that went well beyond the devastation of losing his family. But instead of giving himself time to sort it all out and find solutions, he’d piled all his dumb into one night and was still paying for it.

  Shade locked up his cruiser and strode over to them, trying to keep his temper under control. A fist in Scarabin White’s fleshy face might feel really good right now, but it wouldn’t serve his long-term goals.

  White looked his way, his slimy smile in place. As a name, White fit him. White suit, white skin, bald, white head. Even his light-blue eyes seemed colorless. Inside, though, he was every shade of conniving ass.

  “My security cameras picked up your cruiser. I thought I’d take the opportunity to say hello.” White turned to Tess again. “I see you’ve brought a lovely guest. I’d be happy to provide more appropriate attire if you’d like to enjoy the casino.”

  She flushed bright pink. The asshole had just unwittingly embarrassed her. Shade stole her hand from White’s and kept it in his.

  “We only came for the beach, which doesn’t require dressing up.” He looked at Tess. “Ready?”

  She nodded, moving closer to his side and clearly away from Scarabin White, almost as though she were using him as a buffer.

  Damn if that didn’t make Shade feel strange. And powerful. It made his heart thump.

  He squeezed her hand, and she stopped just behind him. He was pretty sure Tess could take care of herself in a lot of ways, but she obviously saw no benefit in forced bravado. If he was right about Jax having been her partner on Hourglass Mile, Shade thought she must have learned this behavior there. Fight when you had to. When you could, hide behind the bigger animal.

  “Before you go, I wanted to give you this.” White held out a silver money clip engraved with a long-extinct songbird’s head. “The hotel staff found it under a piece of furniture. I believe it was your father’s.”

  Shade felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. Not only his father’s. That went back generations. Centuries. It went back to Earth.

  He took it, knowing everything White had just implied.

  Your father had a gambling problem.

  Your family was rich and powerful—before two generations ruined it all.

  He also knew that White hadn’t found the silver clip under any piece of furniture. Ten years or more forgotten in a corner would have tarnished it, and the clip was perfectly polished. The bastard had kept it—along with everything else.

  Shade turned the unique piece over in his hand, wondering how long White had been waiting to get in this particular dig. He’d probably been holding out for an audience, and here Shade was, on what looked like a date.

  Too bad it wasn’t one—and that Tess was in an even shittier position than he was.

  Shade pivoted and hurled the family heirloom into the ocean, not even looking as it plunged toward the surf.

  Tess gasped. “Shade!”

  “Fix the lower levels of Cardinal before the whole fucking thing collapses,” he ground out, already walking away and towing Tess.

  Tess didn’t once glance back at White, which made him want to kiss her. Hard. On the mouth. He almost did after the lift doors closed and they started zooming downward, but he was afraid it would feel more like punishment for both of them than anything else.

  “Are you okay?” Tess asked, freeing her hand from his and lightly touching his arm instead.

  “I’m fine!”

  She reared back, a yeah-not-so-much look on her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing a calming breath.

  “It’s okay.” She didn’t step closer again. “That was beautiful. Why did you throw it away?”

  “I didn’t want it,” he said.

  “Maybe someone would have. Someone in your family.”

  He didn’t have a family. “Then someone can have it,” he said. “When it washes up.”

  Tess nodded, her expression still somber with concern.

  They stepped out of the lift when it reached ground level, and he guided her toward the shore, taking a path lined with fancy shrubs, potted trees, and colorful blooms. There was no denying the beauty of the resort, despite the ugliness of its owner, and Tess trailed her fingers over velvety, exotic-looking petals, stopping to smell a few of the prettiest flowers. She didn’t say anything else about the money clip.

  There she went again, being all perfect, knowing when to let something go.

  They eventually stepped onto sand, and she turned her face into the breeze, sniffing the damp, briny air. She stomped her feet a few times, getting used to the feel of the shifting grains beneath her shoes.

  They walked farther along the beach than Shade had intended, but the long stroll gave him a chance to cool off. Tess seemed happy to just soak in the scenery and didn’t say much, besides commenting on the flickering light from the torches again, their subtle scent, and how the paths from the three moons glittered across the now-dark water like rippling starlight. He thought she didn’t want to talk a lot, but rather listen to the surf.

  Finally, when the brightly lit casino looked small in the distance, she chose a dune and sat down on the side of it. Sea grass swayed behind them, rustling. The waves rolled in and out with a soothing rhythm. Shade leaned back on his elbows and watched Tess more than the ocean. She was the better sight.

  Tess suddenly laughed. “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” he asked.

  “Stop looking at me.”

  Shade smiled. “You’re fun to watch.”

  She bit down on her grin, but he still saw it tugging at her lips. “Do all the people on Albion 5 stare? Are you a planet of starers?”

  His eyebrows went up. “Starers?”

  “Yes, like this.” She leaned closer and locked eyes with him.

  Shade chuckled. No way was he looking away first.

  “Damn, you’re good at this,” she eventually said.

  So was Tess. Shade shot out a hand and tickled her ribs.

  “Ah! That’s cheating!” she cried, laughing and curling into a ball.

  “I win,” Shade said.

  She gave him a sidelong look that promised retribution. “Fine. What’s your prize?”

  Prize? The word sank into him and stuck in his gut. “Nope. You win. I cheated. You claim the prize.”

  “Okay.”

  Her quick agreement made him nervous. Retribution, here we come.

  “Put your feet in the water,” she said.

  Shade groaned. “That water’s cold, Tess.”

  “I’ll do it if you do.” She looked so hopeful that it was immediately clear to him that she wanted to touch the water but was afraid of going anywhere near it by herself.

  “We’ll be wet and barefoot for the whole walk back,” he cautioned, half-heartedly starting to slip off his shoes and socks.

  She immediately did the same. So much for his attempted warning.

  Shade rolled up his pants to keep them dry and then helped Tess wiggle her tigh
t-fitting pants up as far as they would go, adding his strength to the final few tugs to get them past her knees.

  When they finally succeeded, Tess puffed out a breath in exaggerated exhaustion. “I should have worn a miniskirt,” she joked.

  Heat flooded his abdomen. Shade sat back on his heels, putting some distance between them. Her legs were shapely—and so space-pale they practically glowed in the moonlight. If this had been a date, he might have smoothed his hands down her legs to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

  “No backing out,” Tess said, popping up and racing for the surf. She stopped just at the water’s edge and then leaped back, shrieking happily when a wave chased her up the sand.

  Shade stood and moved closer. He didn’t join her yet. It was too much fun watching her scoot back and forth, laughing and getting out of the way just before the next wave caught her around the ankles and froze her feet.

  Something expanded in his chest, pushing out hard. Tess wasn’t afraid to show enjoyment or enthusiasm. To be herself. He couldn’t imagine her ever approaching life timidly, or just moving quietly from one day to the next.

  She finally stood still and let a wave rush over her. Water swirled around her ankles and then sucked and bubbled its way back down the slope, pulling sand out from under her feet. She sank a little into the beach, wiggling her toes. The next wave crashed up her shins, and Tess threw back her head and screamed. It was pure joy—discovery, delight. Probably the cold. Shade loved every second of it.

  This wasn’t a woman who kept her head down, playing it safe. Tess lifted her face and yelled to the stars. How many people did that these days?

  She turned to him, grinning.

  Unable to resist, Shade moved toward her, preparing for the inevitable toe freeze. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I love it!” Her eyes were brilliantly bright, even in the near dark.

  “What about the cold?” He suppressed a shiver as the soles of his feet touched wet sand. The foam was even worse. The next wave hit, and Shade sputtered a curse.

  “You call this cold?” Smiling, Tess kicked some water at him, splashing his lower legs with tiny beads of ice. “Cold is when you get a tear in your spacewalk suit, and you think, Oh fuck, I’m going to die! This…this is wonderful!” She spun around, raising her arms to the sky.

  Shade stared at her. How many times had Tess been on dangerous spacewalks? How many times had she thought, Oh fuck, I’m going to die?

  “That happen often?” he asked, frowning.

  She shrugged and went a little deeper, bouncing up with every wave in a hopeless attempt to keep her pants dry.

  “Don’t go much farther,” he warned. “The drop-off is steep and sudden, and I don’t want to have to dive in after you.”

  Tess inched back, turning to him with a crease in her brow. “That seems awfully dangerous for a resort beach.”

  “It’s better closer to the hotel and casino. Safer for families. This part of the beach is mostly for walking.”

  “Did you learn to swim here?” she asked, jumping another wave.

  Shade shook his head. “In a pool. A heated pool,” he added.

  “A pool,” she said wistfully.

  Shade watched her splash back toward shallower water, where she let the waves roll over her feet again.

  Was he wrong about Sector 12? Tess had the accent, but nothing else. No pools, no beaches, no brainwashing into a life of boredom. She showed zest for life. She said what she meant. It was unbelievably refreshing. No one had a fucking opinion these days. Or if they did, they didn’t share it.

  He’d been like that, too—until his parents had died and he’d lost everything. Then he’d figured he was free to be himself. Why not? He’d had no one left to impress. The problem was, no one else impressed him, either.

  Tess glanced at him, her head tilted to one side. “‘The ocean my secrets keep, its waves whispering echoes from the deep.’”

  “‘Mysteries abound; mysteries profound,’” Shade continued for her, his heart speeding up.

  “‘Until currents carry them to their final sleep, and then the abyss may them reap.’” They finished together, her smiling, and him feeling like he’d been hit by a wrecking ball.

  Was he going to have to hand over to the Dark Watch the only person he’d actually liked in a decade?

  “You’ve read Tynhill?” Tess asked, beaming.

  “Hasn’t everyone?” Shade sounded hoarse.

  “No.” She laughed. “And most people can’t recite her poems, either.”

  “Yeah, well, those are good ones,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  A small, dark animal waddle-ran across the sand and plunged into the water near Tess’s ankles.

  She yelped and jumped behind Shade, clinging to his shoulders. “What was that?”

  Shade peered at the water. Whatever it was, it was gone. “I don’t know. A flerver?”

  “What the hell is a flerver?” Tess cried.

  “You’re scared of a flerver?” Shade couldn’t help it; he started laughing.

  “I don’t know what a flerver is, you idiot!”

  “Small. Brown.” He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Webbed feet. Semiaquatic.”

  “Do they bite?” she asked, not letting go of him.

  “Yes. Very hard.”

  “What?” She practically jumped on his back, knocking into him.

  Shade slid to the side, wrapped an arm around her waist, and propelled her toward dry sand. His feet were freezing. “Just kidding. They’re harmless.”

  Tess whirled on him, scowling. “Why do you do that?”

  Because teasing her was the most fun he’d had in years.

  He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger just a little longer than he knew he should. “I know you’re brave. Why are you scared of a little animal?”

  She shivered. “We’re all scared of something, right? It’s only human.”

  He nodded, the levity draining from him again. It had been like that all evening—highs and lows until he felt like a yo-yo. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  As they collected their shoes and socks and got ready to walk back to his cruiser, Shade realized he was starting to feel pretty damn terrified himself.

  For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do.

  Chapter 13

  I left the Squirrel Tree at dusk after an uneventful day with no sign of Shade. My anxiety level amped up the second I hit the streets with a large hover crate full of contraband books. I wasn’t sure what made me more nervous as I headed toward Susan’s bookstore—the fact that the books were all unsanctioned by the galactic authorities, or the fact that they were all stolen.

  Only the latter would get me into immediate trouble, but the former wasn’t great, either. It could leave me open to questioning and eventual holding—all of which could lead to an arrest.

  Using a small wireless remote, I guided the crate through the darkening streets of the docking district before heading into more open and welcoming Windrow. I cultivated a certain walk as I went, throwing the vibe I needed off me like radio waves. It straddled a line somewhere between I’m perfectly normal, there’s nothing to see here and Don’t fuck with me, or you’ll be sorry.

  I’d learned the nuances of both in prison. No one wanted to be the weirdo, all alone, that people ganged up on. And everyone wanted respect. I’d started thinking of effectively blending the two attitudes into one as a difficult but achievable art form. Mastery of the walk had given me something to aspire to on Hourglass Mile—with the added benefit of usually keeping me safe.

  I heard the three long electronic beeps that signaled a public announcement and stopped along with everyone else, keeping a hand on my crate as I let it touch down. The whole city seemed to hold its breath,
waiting. My stomach clenched when the Overseer’s live image appeared on the huge visual display unit attached to the front of the building across from me. He was in his office, a room I knew well for having been summoned to it more than once for long, sometimes violent lectures.

  As usual, he wore plain, dark clothes. In fact, he was a plain, dark-haired, dark-eyed man. And every time he popped up on a building-sized screen to project his propaganda across the galaxy, his bland uniformity anchored itself a little deeper into the collective psyche as the galactic ideal.

  Tonight, I was as guilty of conforming to his stark, unembellished image as everyone else. My tight black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, clingy dark top, and drab little vest made me look just like any other woman my age. I remembered playing with some of the dresses my mother had kept from her youth—clothing with integrated lights and materials that changed colors when you moved. They’d made me dream about laughter and parties until my despot father had found them and thrown them in the garbage. Neither Mom nor I had been allowed out of the house for a month, and from one day to the next, everything in our closets had been replaced by clothing of the Overseer’s choice.

  “Citizens of the eighteen Sectors,” the Overseer began. “You live in a time of peace and prosperity. Of great discovery and progress. Despite that, there are still misguided people who would take from you your life of ease and security, who would destroy the orderly society we’ve worked tirelessly to build and shatter it into warring, lacking factions that can’t see past their own selfish wants and needs.”

  Well. There would be no easing into it today, it seemed. Something must have royally pissed him off.

  Losing a lab full of enhancers perhaps?

  “You must root them out. Dig out and destroy this rotten fruit whenever you can. Wherever you can. Every single one of you is responsible for protecting the life the galactic government has built for you.”

  He paused to let that sink in, and it felt as though whatever passion and warmth was in the air got sucked right out of it as people froze, wondering if someone might point a finger at them next. It didn’t take more than a half-assed accusation to get carted off by the Dark Watch.