Mila's Shift

by Danielle Forrest

  “Luke. You don’t know that. These people have never worked with me. They don’t know me. They’ve got nothing to go by. I could work as a pilot by day, chop people into teeny pieces by night, and torture puppies on weekends as a special treat. They wouldn’t know.”

  “May, you’re getting ridiculous.”

  The hysteria built inside her, like a volcano ready to blow. “Luke! They’re having people follow me! They don’t do things like that unless they think you’re suspicious. Clearly, they think I’m up to something.” Her hands shook worse than a palsy sufferer. Her entire being screamed at her to run. She needed out. Now. “I gotta go. I need out of here.”

  “May, wait!” Luke grabbed her arm, keeping her from escaping. “May.” He turned her around, holding onto her shoulders with both hands. “Nothing’s gonna happen. I got you. We’re friends.”

  “But my shadows.”

  “Aren’t gonna see anything unusual. You’re not doing anything bad on the ship, are you?”

  Other than impersonating military personnel. “No.”

  “Then what’s the problem? Just look at them as… bodyguards.”

  “Yeah?” she said, the shakes calming, her breathing slowing, evening out.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Thanks, Luke.”

  “Anytime.” He laughed. “Now, let’s get out of this closet before you start getting a reputation. I mean, I’m fine with it, but you might not be.”

  Mila punched his arm again. “Very funny, Luke. Let’s get to work.”

  Luke rolled her eyes behind May’s back. What a drama queen. Then again, she supposed after getting attacked and having security dogging her heels, she had a little reason to be paranoid. She wanted to hug May, make it all better, but a hug wouldn’t fix anything.

  And after making that joke about getting a reputation, she was a little uncomfortable giving physical comfort. She’d never dated a girl in her life. Granted, getting caught in a closet might make her seem more normal, but she had a hard enough time maintaining a male persona without trying to fake who turned her on.

  “This feels like the hundredth closet I’ve searched.” He slammed the door and walked on.

  “It probably has been.”

  “How many guys did the captain assign to this search, anyway?”

  “Don’t know. I imagine it’s quite a few, though.”

  “And yet we still haven’t found anything.”

  “I talked to Johnson last night. All they’ve found were two guys doing the horizontal mambo in a closet.”

  “Okay, I’m glad I’m not Johnson. I don’t need to see that.”

  “See? It could always be worse,” his compatriot said with a flourish of his arms.

  He flipped him the bird.

  Mila reached the bridge feeling better. Scared? Sure. Wanting to disappear? Absolutely. But mad with hysteria? Not anymore. She patted Luke on the shoulder, a silent thank you for his words in the closet. He turned and gave her a big grin and a wink. She shook her head. Leave it to Luke to lighten the mood.

  She sat down, looking forward to a few relaxing hours at the helm. Strange how wielding true power, the power to shift her body into almost whatever she wanted to, made her feel helpless, alone, and scared. Wielding tens of thousands of tons of steel through sub-space, on the other hand, which required the reflexes of a Jedi Master and most people found terrifying, empowered her, making her feel in control.

  As she settled in, she noticed a folded note tucked under one of the controls, keeping it from floating away. I wonder whom that’s from. Not like I have a lot of friends here. Or anywhere, really. She unfolded the sheet and jumped out of her seat, tripping in her haste. The paper floated in midair as she stumbled back, drawing the attention of the rest of the bridge.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, as Luke called to her. His voice reached her through a tunnel.

  “May? May, what’s wrong?” He hurried to her, grasping her shoulder. “May, talk to me.”

  “Letter,” she gasped, whimpered.

  Luke turned and snatched the message out of the air before anyone noticed it. He didn’t read the note. He just stuffed it in his pocket and returned his attention to Mila. Mila tried to stand up straight, to slow her breathing, but made little progress. She concentrated on calming down as Luke distracted the bridge.

  “She thought she saw a bug. Big bug.”

  Squeals rang through the room. Nobody questioned why Mila still hadn’t calmed down.

  Parts of the letter echoed in her head. You are already dead, May Trace. You just don’t know it yet.

  She took a final deep breath and straightened. “I’m good. Sorry, sirs.”

  “You’re sure?” the captain said, suspicion in his eyes and voice.

  What had he seen?

  What did he know?

  Why did I ever think this was a good idea?!

  Chapter Nine

  “So, what was in the letter?” Luke asked.

  “It was a letter of intent.” Mila continued walking.

  “A letter of intent?”

  “The letter?” She reached out, waiting for him to hand it over.

  “Right.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the crumpled mess, slapping it on her palm. “So, what’s it say?”

  “Let’s wait until we’re seated and my shadows,” she motioned with her head to the two security officers behind her, “are halfway to Neverland.”

  “Right.” He kept quiet about as well as an overeager puppy, but he managed until they sat with food in front of them. “Okay, let’s see it.”

  “See what?” Santos asked from across the table.

  “Nothing,” Luke squeaked.

  “Yeah, because that’s not the slightest bit suspicious, Luke.” She rolled her eyes.

  He sagged. “Sorry.”

  “I received a rather unpleasant note today.”

  “Didn’t think there was a bug. You don’t look the type.”

  Mila smiled. “Thank you.”

  Santos shrugged. “So, what’s in the letter?”

  Luke slapped the surface between them, drawing attention. “That’s what I’ve been trying to drag out of her all day.” He would never survive on the lam.

  Mila unfolded and smoothed the paper as best she could and laid it out in the middle of the table, holding it down so it didn’t float away. She let everyone read silently.

  You are quite the foe, May Trace. I’ve never had to attempt to kill someone twice. Yet I have and you still live. Rest assured, your bodyguards won’t save you. I can be anyone. You won’t see me coming.

  You are already dead, May Trace. You just don’t know it yet.

  -Your Assassin

  “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” Santos looked up at Mila wide-eyed.

  “A shifter assassin on board this ship? Holy shit.” Luke paled several shades as he fell back in his seat.

  “Now you know why I freaked so bad.”

  “But why does he want to kill you?” Santos pointed at Mila, more interested in her than she’d been the entire tour.

  “No clue. I’m-I’m nothing.”

  “Well, clearly you’re something to someone,” Santos snarled.

  “Well, I don’t know who that someone is.”

  Luke sat up. “Seems to me, it doesn’t matter who contracted the hit. What matters is catching and stopping this killer.”

  “Count me out,” Santos said, waving her hands in front of her. “No offense. You may be my roommate, but I’m not gonna die for you.”

  “Thanks, Santos.”

  “I’m bailing.” She stood and walked away, leaving a half-eaten tray behind.

  “Well, I’ve still got your back.”

  But would you if you knew what I really was?

  “No worries, May. I’m gonna keep you safe.”

  Mila peeked over at Luke questioningly for the thou
sandth time. “No offense, Luke, but you don’t exactly seem like prime bodyguard material.”

  “What, me?” he said in mock shock.

  “What kind of hand-to-hand training do you have?”

  “Well, I’m a communications officer. What training I have, I probably forgot years ago.”

  “So, what you’re saying is, in a fight, I’d be the one protecting your ass?”

  “What, a pilot is any better?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been practicing martial arts every day since I was in grade school. I could show you.”

  “No, no, no,” he said, waving his arms in front of his frantic face. “You’d kill me by accident.”

  Mila shook her head. “I can assure you, I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “Good,” a voice called from behind Luke.

  “Luke, watch out!” Mila screamed, but too late.

  A silhouette in the side corridor grabbed and slammed Luke, sending him into the wall using the same maneuver he’d used on her the first time.

  “Let him go!” She dashed forward, separating Luke from the assassin to the beat of pounding boots. Years of training kicked in and she blocked, punched, kicked, blocked again, rolled, turned, ducked.

  Each move in perfect sync with her attacker’s, she did her best, but it wasn’t enough. While she’d spent all her time away from people, this man had clearly been testing his skills on his victims.

  Someone grabbed her from behind and she yelped, flailing and kicking. One bodyguard raced ahead, plowing into her assailant. He smashed through his enemy’s attacks and defenses like a berserker, and before she realized the second shadow held her and not another attacker, their foe ran.

  “Go! I’ve got this,” his partner said, the woman the captain had ordered them to follow still flailing in his arms.

  “Right.” He dashed after the assailant, running with ease, years of training doing him justice. Glimpsing an elbow around a corner up ahead, he picked up speed.

  Come on, come on. He reached the corner. A black figure ran a few dozen feet before him. Damn it. He pushed himself harder, his feet pounding louder against the flooring, his breaths heaving in and out, powering his forward progress.

  The dark shape took a left, but he’d closed the gap, only a dozen feet separating them. He could make out details. In uniform, but not an officer. Nothing on his shoulders. Smallish frame. Five foot nine. He turned the corner.

  “Shit.” He slid to a halt, darting his head back and forth as he tried to catch a similar build in the crowded corridor. After a few minutes, he picked up his radio. “I’ve lost him. Canteen.”

  When she calmed down, the second shadow lowered her to the ground. She trembled from adrenaline, her mind taking in her surroundings for the first time. “Luke!” She dashed and slid to him, laying motionless on the floor.

  Someone knelt by her side. “He’s alive, Trace, just unconscious.”

  “Just unconscious?” Her mind tried to dash through a thousand terrible things, but the recent adrenaline surge left it running on neutral. “Shouldn’t we take him to med bay? He could be seriously hurt!”

  The kneeling shadow pressed his hand to her shoulder. “We’ve already called someone. They’ll arrive with a stretcher to take him there. He’ll be fine.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding as a reflex. “He’ll be alright?”

  “Almost assuredly yes.”

  She dreaded the “almost” in that statement…

  When the stretcher showed up, Mila walked beside it, straining around the bodies of the medical officers to make sure Luke would be all right. She couldn’t believe it unless she saw it with her own eyes.

  More security officers had arrived and she’d heard one of them order even more to head in the direction her attacker had taken off. They won’t catch him. He’s probably already changed his face. The remaining officers surrounded her on all sides, protecting her like Secret Service protecting the President.

  She was too scared and numb to care.

  When they finally reached the med bay, a stern doctor practically shoved her onto a bed.

  “Sit.”

  Stay. Lie down. She wasn’t sure if her sarcastic thoughts reflected in her face. By now, she wasn’t sure she could move her face. The swelling and bruising from her last incident had gone down. She hadn’t had the guts to look in the mirror this morning after she’d showered, but it hadn’t hurt and it hadn’t felt tight. Now she doubted she could smile to save her life, not that she wanted to.

  “You took quite a beating, Trace.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  The doctor palpated her face, his fingers ghosting over her skin, but she winced anyway.

  “Sorry.”

  She nodded and he continued, checking for broken bones. She knew she didn’t have any. Shifters left cuts and bruises alone, but you knew when you’d broken a bone. And a shifter could fix a broken bone with no one the wiser.

  She winced again as he touched a bruised rib, ignoring the pair of officers still standing guard in the room. She would have complained about the lack of privacy, but she was too tired to care. The adrenaline had definitely worn off.

  Chapter Ten

  “Captain!” a security officer said, barging in without preamble.

  “Yes?” he said, leaning forward, waiting for the news.

  “The assassin’s been spotted. He attacked Pilot Trace and Officer Hall.”

  His heart pounded in his chest in alarm. He jumped up and raced out. “He escaped?”

  “Yes, sir. Men are searching for him now.”

  “Trace and Hall are in the med bay?” His boots hammered the magnetic floor plates.

  “Yes, sir,” the man said breathlessly beside him.

  Three turns and they entered medical at a dead run. He turned and slid to a stop at one of the treatment rooms. Two security officers parted, giving him a clear sight of Trace wearing just pants, boots, and a black sports bra.

  He sucked in a breath as he took in the bruises covering her arms, torso, and face. Some, newly formed, turned her skin red and purple. Others had darkened or faded to black, green, and yellow.

  He ground his teeth thinking of the pain she must be suffering. That fucker’s gonna die. He stopped, slackening his jaw and relaxing hands he didn’t realize he’d clenched into fists. Jesus, Tristan, she’s just a crew member. And a suspicious one at that. You know nothing about her.

  “Report,” he barked, using a commanding tone to reassert control over what must have been a serious testosterone attack.

  The man to his left straightened further. “A man came out from around a corner, grabbed Hall, slammed him into a wall. Trace then attacked him before we could get to them. We fought him off and he fled down the same corridor he’d hidden in.”

  “Any news from the search team?”

  “None yet, captain.”

  “How’s Hall?”

  “Unconscious, captain. Nothing else to report.”

  “Have Trace report to my quarters when she’s done here.” His mind entertained the double meaning there, but he stamped it down before marching off.

  “ID.” He stood as another in a long line of personnel handed him an ID, which he scanned. He motioned that person to move along, officers behind him directing traffic to a common area.

  The next in line stepped up, handing over the ID without being asked. He scanned it and waved him on as well. Other officers were checking each person’s private quarters while yet more searched every conceivable hiding place on the Orleans.

  After the incident, the captain ordered a full ship lockdown. Anyone on shift stayed put. If you were in your bunk, you stayed there. They were trying to eliminate suspects. They were trying to catch this slippery son of a bitch.

  The officer who’d lost the shifter in the crowd had rounded up everyone in the mess hall and galley, which only had one entrance. The man had insisted th
eir foe hadn’t escaped. He wasn’t so sure.

  They had a rough description of the shifter’s last alias. Since they didn’t think the shifter could create a fake ID on the fly, they searched for anyone who fit the description or didn’t have a matching ID. Still, they kept everyone contained, just to be safe.

  He scanned another ID as the radio kicked in. “We found another body.”

  I should have never come here. Oh God, I should have never come here.

  Mila dragged her feet. She had no desire to spend any one-on-one time with Captain Faulk. Plus, the more time separated her from the attack, the stiffer her muscles got. Each movement involved jerking her limbs forward like a zombie. And the adrenaline crash made her want to just curl up in the hall for a nap, assassin be damned.

  Mila kept forgetting she had guardians. She still had two bodyguards, but not the same two. When did the others take off?

  She slowed down even further. What the hell would she tell the captain? Her brain was too sluggish to think, let alone try to deduce what only the real May Trace would have known. Why was an assassin after her?

  Mila didn’t need the attention. She’d taken May’s identity to live her dream. She didn’t want or need anyone suspecting her of murder. Anxiety and dread flooded her as her mind obsessed over everyone discovering her secret.

  Mila stumbled and one of the guards grabbed her, holding her up. She caught a shared, concerned glance out of her peripheral vision, but didn’t care. She just wanted to sleep. Or maybe go back to running, hiding.

  They reached a set of double doors and her stomach sank. She couldn’t get her legs to move anymore. Oh God. One of the shadows opened the door and ushered her in with his arm. Neither of them followed.

  Just act normal.

  He doesn’t know.