She found she was shaking and grateful to be sitting down. Don’t make me regret not killing you.
A body slammed into her from behind, then yanked her back. Ethan. His arm locked around her neck, catching her in a choke hold. She rose halfway up on her feet, gasping, flailing at him with her left hand.
“Give me the pistol!” He grabbed her arm.
She let the force of his movement send the L7 sailing across the main cabin.
“Bitch!” He dragged her, squirming, to her feet.
Only then could she see that Fuzz-face was a bloody, beaten mess under Devin’s knee, his gaping mouth showing teeth missing. The Stinger in Devin’s hand was pressed against Fuzz’s temple.
Ethan’s breath was harsh in her ear. “Drop the pistol, D.J., or she dies.”
Blood trickled down Devin’s forehead from a cut near his hairline; there was another cut on his left cheek. His glasses were skewed. But his lips thinned, and his eyes were hard. His voice carried an unmistakable deadly note. “If she dies, he dies.”
“I don’t give a damn about him.” Ethan kicked Kiler’s still form. Kiler’s head rolled to one side. Devin’s Carver was underneath. “She hits the decking, I grab that, I kill you. Simple.”
Kaidee didn’t like the sound of simple. She locked her hands around Ethan’s arm, yanking it away from her windpipe. His muscles were like metal rods. All those years of sailing, pulling heavy sheets and riggings, had paid off. She dug her nails into his skin. He didn’t flinch.
Neither did Devin. His gaze never left her face.
Ethan jerked her upright another painful inch. “Your call, D.J. Drop the gun or I break her neck.”
Kaidee pulled again on Ethan’s arm but this time slipped one hand inside the upper pocket of her jacket. The cylindrical hypos were slick under her fingers, but she’d done this a dozen times before, reaching blindly into a med-kit to help an injured crew member. She palmed a hypo, thumbing the cap off, then swung her hand up and rammed the dispenser into his forearm, holding the tab down to send all five doses into him.
Ethan roared as the sedative flooded his system, but she was already fumbling in her pocket for the other one. This one she flipped over, dispenser down, and, as he pounded his fist into her midsection, rammed it—gasping, choking, eyes streaming—into his thigh.
He arched back, lifting her feet off the decking, but it was enough for her to wriggle free. She dropped to her knees, sucking air, tears blinding her, and grabbed for the Carver. The whine of a Stinger set to kill sounded over her head.
“Makaiden!” Devin’s voice was raw. Ethan hit the decking with a sickening thud as Devin lowered the Stinger.
Wrapping her fingers around the Carver’s muzzle, Kaidee dragged herself up on one knee. And saw darkness descending. “Behind you!”
Devin spun, catching Fuzz in the neck with his elbow. The man collapsed against a dining chair with a horrid gurgling sound, then went limp, falling to the floor.
It was suddenly quiet, except for her own rasping, rattling breath and the blood pounding in her ears. She shoved the Carver into her weapons belt, her hands shaking.
Dear God. The inside of the Prosperity, one of the most beautiful ships in the GGS fleet, looked like a war zone.
Devin holstered the Stinger, then grabbed her arm, bringing her to her feet. His hands roamed quickly over her body, as if he was assuring himself she was really alive. “Are you hurt? You’re all right?”
“Fine. You?” Even as she said the words, she felt stupid. God. Ethan was dead. And here they were, exchanging inane pleasantries. “Dev, I’m so sorry.”
His expression tightened with pain. “He would have killed you. He would have killed me. And it wouldn’t have stopped there.”
“I know,” she said, as he propelled her toward the airlock. Away from Ethan’s body.
He stopped just short of the hatchway to the ramp and sucked in a breath. “I have this overwhelming need to kiss you.” His voice rasped. “Hell, I have this overwhelming need to make love to you until the goddamned universe implodes, but we don’t have time. Security’s headed here to arrest me, and Kiler’s thugs are looking for the Rider. I hope to God Trip and Barty are still on board. Can you get us off-planet quick?”
“Can you punch holes in traffic control’s security grid?”
He tapped the Rada strapped to his side. “I can.”
“Then I can.” She pushed him ahead of her through the hatchway. She didn’t ever want to see this ship again. “Go!”
——————
They ran more than halfway to the Rider, the cold air searing her lungs, the whine of the wind covering all but the loudest of their boot steps but also hiding noises of anyone behind them.
Her head ached, her chest ached, and various parts of her anatomy were pummeled by small explosions of pain. But she was alive, and Devin was alive. She’d think about the carnage back on the Prosperity later.
Devin slowed her at the Concourse C hangars, pulling her into the shadows. “I won’t be ambushed after all this.”
“You said you could contact Barty’s DRECU with your Rada. If someone’s on the bridge, with or without them, would that give away too much?”
“With the tech that stripers usually carry, no. ImpSec is another matter. They could track my signal.” He brought the microcomputer up and stepped into a recessed doorway. Kaidee stood at his side, blocking the glow from the screen. “But I can muddy it. They’ll unscramble it eventually, but by then …” And his voice drifted off as he concentrated on a short line of numbers.
By then, Kaidee knew, they’d either have rescued Trip and Barty or died trying. Tage’s assassins wouldn’t make the same mistakes as Ethan.
“What are those numbers?”
A pained laugh preceded his answer. “Something only Barty or I would know. The date of the first time I beat him at basketball. The second is the last time he and I played a game.”
“What should his answer be?”
“The scores.”
She stepped closer, a shiver coursing through her body. The temperature was dropping. She could see her breath now.
New numbers flashed in a small databox at the bottom of the screen.
Devin’s breath stuttered out. “Thank God. They’re safe. Unless they’ve got a mind-ripper in there, reading Barty’s brain, they’re safe.” He shoved the Rada back under his jacket. “Keep the Carver out, just in case.”
The wide bay doors were still open. Devin slipped around the corner first, with Kaidee close behind. She hesitated as he did, scanning the darkened hangar as he did.
“Go,” he whispered.
They ran, boots thudding hard on the cold floor. Kaidee focused on the ramp strut and its security panel under the ship. It would take at least a minute to deploy the ramp. If someone was waiting in ambush …
Light speared the darkness from overhead. Her breath caught, her boots skidding, but Devin had her arm. “Keep going! It’s Trip. Ramp’s on the way down.”
The grinding, chugging sound of the ramp extending was the most beautiful sound on the planet.
Then they were scrambling up the ramp, Devin shoving her ahead of him.
“Seal the airlock!” she told Trip as soon as their boots hit the decking. Barty was there as well, Carver in hand.
“You need sick bay?” he asked.
“Bridge,” she told him. “We’re doing an unauthorized departure as soon as Devin scrambles their security air-grid.”
Barty followed her. “I have some interesting information on Kiler you’ll want to hear, when we have time.”
She glanced quickly at him.
“Nahteg—that corporation Kiler was doing business with when he supposedly died?”
Supposedly died. That stalled her footsteps. “You knew Kiler was alive?”
“My datapad picked up the feed from the Rada. I was honestly shocked, but then not, considering the data I found. And who Kiler was really working for. Think about it.
Nahteg. N-A-H-T-E-G. It’s G Ethan spelled backward.”
“Kiler and Ethan go back that far?” She started walking at a good pace again.
“This has been a while in the making. I have a fairly detailed report that you and Devin will need to see. Later,” he added, as she spun the pilot’s chair around and slid into it, bringing her armrest screens up. Seconds later, Devin was at the nav console on her right, synchronizing the Rada, its bright-green holographic display once again sending reflections dancing over his glasses.
Barty sat at comm; Trip, at second pilot. Kaidee brought all systems live, her hands flowing rapidly from screens to touchpads to screens again, her mind replaying Barty’s words. She didn’t know if she was more disturbed by the fact that Ethan and Kiler had been planning this for some time or that, through Barty’s DRECU, Trip had listened to his uncle Ethan trying to kill Devin and herself. As well, he had to have heard Ethan brag about his connection to Tage. Trip had to know what that would mean for GGS and his family. It was a heavy burden for a nineteen-year-old.
It had to be a huge burden for Devin. Ethan’s betrayal and Ethan’s death. His father’s terminal illness.
He would have to talk about it—later. Now he had work to do, intense work, and that, she realized, was a blessing.
He didn’t have to think about Ethan.
She wondered if she should have killed Kiler. He’d already been declared dead once. Why did he do that? Was it part of Ethan’s plan? She might never know. The only clue he’d given was money. He wanted to be rich. So someone, maybe Ethan, had paid him well to pretend to die.
She powered on the heavy-airs, sending a rumbling through the ship. “I’m going to taxi her out in blackout mode. Trip, I need you up front, your nose literally on the viewport. My bow cameras might miss something small-to medium-size.” Like a truck.
Trip moved quickly to her console, bracing himself against the edge.
“I want to dim bridge lights. Devin, can you still work?”
“Not a problem.”
She tapped bridge lights down to three quarters and turned off all nonessentials. The Rider had cleared the last row of tie-downs when Port Chalo Ground barked out commands.
“Unidentified ship on Taxiway T Seven, cut engines now! You’re not authorized to—”
Kaidee tabbed the volume down. “Barty, monitor local traffic. I don’t want to hit anybody. Devin, we’re getting airborne as soon as I’m sure we’ve got clear skies. If you can’t find us a hole, I can—”
“Got one. Sending data now.”
Databoxes flickered on her screen. “That’s two.”
“First one’s the best. Second is backup.”
“Barty?”
“Ground control is pitching fits, but they’re holding up all traffic. There’s not that much at this hour anyway.”
“I’m not looking for the usual traffic. It’s ImpSec I’m worried about.”
“I’m listening in on three private ship-to-ships. No one’s reporting bogeys.”
“Trip, you should be strapped in, but if they throw something out on that runway, I want to know about it.”
“I’m braced pretty good here.”
She swung the ship around to the last taxiway, the Rider now in full heavy-air mode. “Barty, announce our immediate departure on ship-to-ship as a courtesy. I have a feeling ground control already knows.”
Then she punched the engines, sending the Void Rider roaring off into the frigid Port Chalo night sky.
Descent was hell, but ascent was no paradise either. The planet always seemed reluctant to let a ship go, with gravity extending its long, sticky fingers into the atmosphere. She was sure something pursued them at one point—the long-range scan trilled, showing bogeys that were almost two hours behind. But they were closing in on one of Devin’s artificial null zones in the security grid. She guided the ship through and knew the Rider had just disappeared from Talgarrath’s screens.
They would probably assume she’d crashed and would send scoutbots out seeking wreckage. Let ’em seek. It would keep them busy.
Eventually someone might discover where she’d slipped through—though not how—and figure out their trajectory. She wanted to be firmly in the space lanes by then and heading for the smugglers’ gate to Calfedar. It seemed the safest place to go right now, and the ship, with its Englarian registry, could blend in.
Trip seemed unusually subdued. Granted, being squashed back into your chair as the ship pulled away from the planet didn’t often make people chatty. But Trip always had questions, comments. Now he had none. But then, Barty’s DRECU had picked up much of what was said on the Prosperity, and Trip likely had heard it all. Or, in his case, too much.
They broke free of the planet’s pull and the Rider made its final morphing changes from heavy-air to space vehicle. Kaidee ran a status check. Sublights had picked up a little wobble, but she knew that would smooth out in about twenty minutes. It hadn’t been the most textbook-perfect launch. She glanced over her left shoulder at Barty, who still had the commset ringing one ear. He raised his chin slightly, acknowledging her gaze. She gave her head the minutest of tilts in Trip’s direction.
Barty nodded slowly, his mouth grim.
She understood. Trip’s world was coming apart. He was worried about his parents, his siblings, his grandfather. And he’d already admitted several times that he carried guilt for running away, for being a catalyst for all that happened afterward.
Except he wasn’t. Ethan, with Tage’s help, had put things in motion before Trip left Aldan Prime.
She swiveled around to face Trip and Dev at the starboard consoles. “Trip, Devin and I need to hit sick bay. Your uncle’s bleeding on my decking, and I think I have a cracked rib.” Or three. “I’m turning the con over to you.”
That brought Trip’s head up, life finally flashing in his eyes.
She unhooked her straps and pushed herself out of her seat. “But before we go below, I need you to think about one thing. You weren’t the cause of all this. If you’d stayed in your apartment, if you were kidnapped by whoever Ethan sent, very likely Ethan’s plan would have succeeded. Your uncle Devin and your parents might be dead. Tage would be controlling not only GGS’s resources but its funds.
“I’m not saying your bolting off for Dock Five was the right thing to do. But you saved lots of lives. Including your own.”
He nodded slowly. “Thank you. I’m … This is not an easy thing for me to understand right now. I’m working on it.” He hesitated, then: “Thank you for your faith in me, Captain Griggs.”
She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze—he was growing some good muscles there—as she passed. Then she stopped in front of Devin. “Let’s go get you patched up.”
They made it into the lift before he dragged her into his arms, his mouth hard and demanding on hers, his hands roaming her body with a fierce possessiveness. He pinned her against the lift wall. The intensity of his kisses had her heart racing, her breath coming in gasps. The doors pinged, opening onto the lower level. Devin reached back blindly, slapping the lift’s emergency shutoff, then returned to kissing her again.
She pulled her mouth away slightly. His lips moved down her neck. “Devin, I need to get you to sick bay.”
“My cabin’s closer. I need to get you in bed.”
She framed his face with her hands, bringing his gaze to hers. “We’re not safe yet. Not until we get through the jumpgates. Even then … God, Dev. I’m so sorry about your brother. Your father. I really am.”
He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms tightly around her, his face buried in her hair. They stood that way for a very long moment. Then his body trembled against hers. He didn’t want to cry. He was fighting the emotions. She could feel that, because she’d been there.
She stroked his back.
He’d killed his brother. And, like Trip, he had family in serious danger, including a father who was dying. There was nothing he could do to help—not right away. They coul
d send warnings from the first data beacon they hit, but Tage was still out there, as were the falsified charges that Devin had Halsey murdered, had planned Trip’s kidnapping. He might never be able to clear his name.
He might never be able to go home again.
“I’m okay now,” he said roughly, releasing her.
She brushed the dampness from his face and knew that was a lie, but it was one they’d live with for a while.
The medalyzer confirmed her guess: two cracked ribs. The unit hummed against her skin as it started the bone-regeneration process. Devin was in front of sick bay’s small mirror, sticking anti-infectives to his face.
Both their bodies would bear an interesting variety of black, blue, green, and yellow bruises. As soon as they were safe in jump, she intended to explore and kiss every single one of Devin’s, and told him so.
He shot her a lecherous grin over his shoulder. “In addition, I think we might—”
The wail of alarms erupted through the ship. Kaidee froze, heart leaping into her throat. Then she tore off the med-unit and bolted for the corridor, Devin’s hard boot steps pounding behind her.
“Bogeys, Captain Griggs!” Trip’s voice echoed on intraship as she and Devin raced up the stairwell. “Short range shows a warship, a big one. And a P-75. Closing fast.”
Shit. Anibal’s friends were back.
Trip moved out of the pilot’s chair. She slid back in, raking her straps over her chest, swinging the armrest screens in front of her face. The gate was three and a half hours away. The warship with its ominous null ident less than forty minutes behind them.
They’d never make it.
Her heart sank lower than she thought possible. “Listen up. This is not good news. They must have been waiting for us.” Now she knew why there’d been so little pursuit on the ground. “How they knew we’d come out here and not on the planet’s dark side, I don’t know. But they did. Gate edge is three and a half hours away. We run, I can almost guarantee they will shoot. But I’m willing to try it if you all fully understand that risk.” She looked at Devin. “There’s no option for negotiations anymore. Our bogus ship’s docs are not why they’re here.”
Rebels and Lovers Page 37
