Rykus let Chace deal with them while he crawled across the blood-streaked floor to Ash, who was still curled into a ball.
Worry slammed its fist into his chest. He said her name, put his hand on her shoulder.
She spun so quickly her elbow slammed into his arm.
“Easy,” he said, holding his hands out in an attempt to placate the wild fear in her eyes.
Fear. From Ash.
A chill shot through him. He started to look over his shoulder, started to wonder about the newcomers, but a word scraped from Ash’s throat.
“Kris.”
Not a word. A name.
Right when he was thinking she might know one of the masked men, the name slipped into place, and he matched the fear in her eyes to the event that had scarred her past. Kris Menchan was one of her former teammates. Jevan Valt had murdered him along with the rest of her team after the mission to Chalos II.
He grabbed both her arms, squeezed tight when she tried to jerk away.
“You’re not there, baby. You’re with me.”
She met his gaze. Blinked. It took several more seconds for the haze of terror to leave her eyes.
He wished he could erase her nightmares. He’d settle for breaking every bone in Valt’s body. He wouldn’t stop this time. He’d break Valt’s bones again and again until they were weathered down to space dust.
Ash drew in shallow, shaky breaths.
“You with me?” he asked.
When she gave a curt nod, he squeezed her arms, telling her he understood, that he was with her too, and he had her back, always.
She rose to a knee. Rykus helped her the rest of the way up, made sure she was steady, then released her.
Another deep breath, a squaring of her shoulders, and she turned toward Chace and the newcomers.
“Who are you?” she demanded, stepping over a body to cross the room. The long-coated men had killed the technicians along with the gunmen. They might not be enemies, but assassinating civilians meant they weren’t friendlies either.
The man speaking to Chace unhooked his mask but kept his hood raised.
“My name is Denn,” he said. “We can get you out of here, but we need to move quick.”
A man helped Mira to her feet. The doctor didn’t look afraid. She looked pissed. Likely, she wasn’t a fan of murdering civilians either.
Rykus dipped to the floor, retrieving his Covar, before he straightened and put a hand on Ash’s lower back, urging her toward the door. She didn’t move.
“Get us out of here to where?” she asked, her tone too cold, considering these men had just saved their asses.
“Safety,” Denn said. He motioned his men back to the corridor.
“Why?” Ash said.
Denn frowned. “Why what?”
“Why would you help us? What are you getting out of it?”
The frown deepened. “You’re Ash.” It was almost a question.
“And you’re some—”
“Come on, Ash,” Chace said. “Let’s go. We can talk about your righteous indignation later.”
Righteous indignation? Was this a betrayal? Chace had stopped Rykus from contacting the Fighting Corps. Had he contacted someone else?
No. The timeline didn’t make sense. Communications had been up two, maybe three minutes when the first attack came. Denn and his people showed up just a few minutes after that. Both groups had been on the way before the dampeners went down.
Something about the timeline, a correlation between it and Ash’s anger, tugged at his attention. He didn’t have time to focus on it though. They were in a shitty position, under-armed and hurt and out of options.
“We need to go,” he said, putting more pressure on her back. This time she moved.
Denn organized his men, sending four to take the lead and two to the rear while he stayed with Chace and Ash. They moved down the corridor, cutting through the building’s center and passing more than a few bodies. Problem was, according to Ash’s description of the facility, this wasn’t the way to an exit. They were headed west. The only thing that way was the ocean.
Near what he judged to be the northwest corner, the party drew to a stop. Two men took off packs they wore over their longcoats. One took out what appeared to be climbing equipment while the other withdrew a flat black circle. Rykus recognized it as a breaching disk.
The man disappeared around the corner, and Ash looked at Denn. “Military grade?”
Denn nodded. “Get clear.”
They moved to the wall, pressed against it, and waited.
If he hadn’t endured a crash into the ocean, a day of dodging a head-splitting tram, and a brain-wrecking flash grenade, he might have thought the explosion powerful. As it was, the blast was just another hammer beating at the nails piercing his already battered skull.
After the shock wave roared past, he braced a hand against the wall for balance, let his equilibrium level out, then he made his way around the corner.
The breaching disk had blasted a perfectly round hole in the facility’s wall, providing a huge, porthole-like view to a night-shaded ocean. The man with the climbing gear passed out quick-harnesses, then took the climbing anchors to the edge of the hole.
Rykus fastened his harness around his waist, then unwrapped the two three-centimeter-wide straps wound around the device. He passed those between his legs, then hooked them to the belt at his back.
Something clunked to his left. He turned to see Mira pick up her harness. Hands shaking, she buckled it.
“You know how to use that?” he asked.
“I think so.” Her fingers fiddled with the straps, trying to get them unwound.
“Here.” He placed her hand over the release mechanism. “Pinch.”
She followed his instructions, and the straps loosened enough for her to unwrap them.
He helped her hook them to the back of the belt. “You’re holding up well.”
“You mean I’m not getting us all killed.”
“You’re keeping up. Keeping it together. Not many civilians could do that.”
“This is my fault. If Ash…” Mira shook her head. “I made a mistake. I can’t undo it.”
Two longcoats hooked their harnesses to the anchors, then disappeared through the hole. Chace followed them. Ash stood at the edge and watched them descend.
Rykus guided Mira to the breach and hooked her harness to the anchor.
“Keep a hand on the rope,” he said. “Don’t grip it and don’t descend too fast or you’ll burn your palm. Put pressure on the center of the buckle to descend. If you stop the pressure, you’ll stop your descent. Got it?”
“Got it.” She moved to the edge and looked down.
“You rappel before?” he asked.
“Once or twice.”
“It’s just like that,” he said, then amended, “Or a little like that. Face me. Then, when you’re ready, push off backward and feed out the rope.”
“Easy as that?” She faced him as instructed, then looked down and back.
“You’ll be fine once you jump.”
She snorted.
“Need a push?” Ash said.
Mira shot a glare her way.
Ash didn’t blink. “You’ve got three seconds.”
“I’ll do it,” Mira grumbled.
“One.”
“I said I’ll do—”
Ash shoved her out the hole.
Rykus sighed.
“Real helpful,” he said. He peered down, making sure Mira was okay. It looked like she was descending at a safe speed. The trick would be getting into a boat. There were two waiting below, fighting the waves pummeling the cliff.
“This is a well-orchestrated rescue,” he said.
Ash made a noncommittal sound in response, then hooked to the anchor and jumped. Rykus gave her a few seconds and followed.
Wind whipped past as he fell, chilling his sweat-damp skin. He stuttered his descent, pressing and releasing the button on his harness. He
didn’t have a wall to kick against, so he spun at the wind’s whim, dropping in a sickening spiral until the roar of crashing waves signaled the time to stop.
Swinging a good five meters above the ocean, he assessed his situation. Even at that height, the waves thrashed hard enough to soak his lower body. The icy bite chased air from his lungs. It would get worse when he reached the boat. Ash was climbing inside one now, thoroughly drenched from head to toe. From the looks of it, the others on the boat weren’t better off. Two men bailed water while the driver did his best to keep the boat away from the rocks. One boat gave up and circled away.
He’d have to aim for the second one.
Rykus lowered himself farther and swung his legs back and forth, building momentum. He placed his fingers on the top and bottom of his harness, applied pressure to release the line, but a particularly brutal wave crashed against the boat. It nearly capsized. By some magical feat, the driver saved it, maneuvering away from the rocks. Away from Rykus.
Shit.
He swung harder. Salt water burned his eyes. His fingers numbed. He could barely feel the rope in his right hand or the harness he gripped with his left. Another long, rough arc toward the cliff, then back out to the ocean, and he took the chance. He squeezed the release and jetted toward the boat.
He half made it, slamming down on the watercraft’s side. His weight sank it enough for the ocean to pour inside. He almost let go—a lifebuoy jumped and kicked over the waves to his right—but a hand gripped his arm.
Ash.
He was twice her weight, more likely to pull her out than for her to pull him in, but a second hand joined hers. Denn and Ash hefted him over the ledge, and he splashed into the boat.
He pushed to his feet to help with bailing. The driver didn’t remain in the chaos of waves and rock long though, and the moment he cleared to a safer distance, the drain-lines caught up with the water.
Denn passed out drinking water and rations. When he handed them to Ash, he asked, “North or south?”
The roar of the waves quieted as the two boats eased away from the cliff. Ash opened her water and drank.
“South,” Chace answered for her. “We’re headed—”
Ash jerked her attention to Chace. “You’re going north. All of you are.”
“All of us?” Denn echoed.
Her steady, stony silence said yes.
Chace huffed out a breath. “Ash, we need—”
“What do we need, Chace? Denn and half a dozen unknown men tracking our movement? Learning names?”
“I trust my dregs,” Denn said.
“That’s a mistake.” Her eyes chilled ocean cold.
The urge to take command swept through Rykus, strong as a Javerian torrent, but something was playing out here, some dynamic he couldn’t quite identify. He slipped his ration bar into a pocket and set down his water bottle.
“Come on,” Chace said to Ash. “We’re half-dead. Denn has guns and dregs. Others will—”
Ash shoved him overboard.
Rykus looked at Ash with a what-the-hell expression, but she wasn’t looking at him. She stood in the center of the boat, balancing effortlessly as the waves rocked it back and forth.
“You want him back on board?” Denn asked, watching as Mira moved to the boat’s side and extended her hand.
“Not really,” Ash said.
Denn crossed his arms and leaned against the captain’s chair. There was that dynamic again. It scraped at Rykus’s attention, wanting to be analyzed, but Mira needed help. When he moved to give it, Denn blocked his path.
You’ve gotta be kidding…
Denn tensed up when he did. Rykus’s fist clenched.
“Let him back on,” Ash said, sighing as if Chace was an annoying alert she couldn’t swipe off her cuff.
Denn angled one small degree to the left. Hardly an invitation to pass, but Rykus shouldered him out of the way, then helped Mira pull Chace back inside.
Chace plopped to his back, coughing and cursing and staring at the night sky. Rykus had to give the man credit. Ash had almost shot him back in the control room, almost let him drown now, and there were other times she had treated him like shit and Chace never once flinched. He never called her out on it. Ash claimed she had no friends on Glory, but the man watched her back. He might advocate for actions Ash objected to, but when she pushed back, he trusted and followed her instincts.
Another elusive little thought tugged at his attention. He frowned down at Chace, then shifted his focus to Denn, who appeared to be waiting for Ash’s next order. The other two longcoats watched and waited too, almost as if…
It fell into place then, the dynamic that had been bothering him since they’d crashed into the ocean. The small hints and clues he’d glimpsed but hadn’t pieced together.
How had he not recognized it?
How had the Coalition not known?
He looked at Ash as the boat rocked beneath him. “You were a boss.”
11
“She united Bedlam,” Chace said.
Ash shouldn’t have let him back on board. She should have taken the wheel and driven the boat straight into his head.
“Get off,” she said. “All of you.”
The two nameless dregs glanced at Denn, who still leaned against the side of the boat. Rykus was right. This was a decently planned rescue. Denn must have begun scheming the minute he’d learned who she was. He’d scraped up two low-detection speedboats and a team of a dozen dregs, and he’d moved into place outside the operations facility so he could act quickly should the opportunity arise.
Perhaps she should be grateful, but dregs didn’t offer help unless they received something in return. Denn had said he did this for her. What he meant was he’d saved her in exchange for a prominent position in her precinct should she take control again.
She shouldn’t have taken control to begin with. But she’d been ambitious and arrogant, and she’d seen a way to consolidate power. Dregs had been trying to unite all the small pieces of Bedlam for decades. They’d all failed.
Ash had done something different though. She’d united Bedlam with lies of inspiration instead of with threats of force. She’d told the sub-bosses she could take down Scius and that she could feed their people, provide them with medicine and with security. She was an expert at manipulating people, and her words had worked so well even she had started to believe them.
And those who hadn’t believed?
They hadn’t survived long.
Ash sent her coolest glare to Denn’s two hooded dregs. They glanced at Denn again, and he signaled them to transfer to the other boat. He made no move to follow though.
She should tell Chace to get rid of him. That’s what she would have done five years ago if a dreg didn’t follow her orders…
Well, maybe not five years ago. More like five and a half. And if she became that person again, Rykus would think even less of her.
Ash couldn’t look at him, but she felt his gaze, his scrutiny. She felt him flipping through his mental file, linking every behavior, every flirtation and manipulation and protocol violation to her past. She hadn’t been a good person. Not even a half-decent one.
“You’re driving,” Ash told Denn. “Straight to Tower Mouth. I’ll tell you where to stop when we get there.”
She moved to the rear of the boat where the heat of the engine warmed the floor. Two tightly packed duffels were tucked beneath a bench. She pulled one out to use as a pillow.
“Dry clothes,” Denn said. “Courtesy of Aksel.”
Of course Aksel had sent him. The bartender couldn’t keep himself from helping her.
She unzipped the bag, tossed a set of clothes to Mira, and pulled out another set that should fit her.
She shed her ripped and bloodied pants and shirt. The clot cloth over her side wound stretched. She peeled up a corner of the bandage, grit her teeth when it clung to her skin. Blood seeped from the hole. That was an improvement over the last time she’d changed the
cloth though.
She pulled on a pair of black fatigues and was about to don the shirt when Rykus put a hand on her arm.
Thoughts and phrases flashed through her mind. A few almost escaped her mouth. The teasing quips and innuendos were instinctive responses when she stood half-naked next to a man, especially this man, but she swallowed them down. Maybe because she was exhausted. Maybe because she was scared. Five minutes ago, she’d been just another dreg from Glory. Now she was something else, something Rhys “Rest in Peace” Rykus would want to stomp out of existence.
He ripped open a package containing a fresh clot cloth, then peeled the old one off her wound and pressed the new one on.
“You could have told me,” he murmured, his voice just audible over the waves and hum of the engine.
She looked at Chace, who was talking with Denn. “I’ve tried to forget my past.”
“Yet you’re here.”
She pulled on her shirt, smoothed it down.
“We need to talk about that,” he said.
Her gaze hooked onto his. Panic squeezed her throat. The emotion was a side effect of the loyalty training. She breathed through it, but she couldn’t fully erase the ache in her chest. If he pushed her away, it would hurt. She could deal with physical injuries, but she sucked at dealing with emotions.
“About why you’re here,” Rykus clarified. “The other doesn’t matter.”
He squeezed her arm before turning to the second duffel.
She watched him search for clothes, analyzing his posture, his expression, the handful of words he’d just said. He was going to ignore what she was? What she had done to become a precinct boss?
Of course he would. He was from Javery, not Glory. He wouldn’t use the information to belittle and blackmail. That’s something she would have done five and a half years ago.
He was a better person than she was. He belonged in the penthouse of a luxury space station while she belonged in its sanitation unit. Their paths never should have crossed, but she’d had the audacity to become more than a dreg from Glory while he’d become more than a soldier from Javery.
Rykus shed his clothes. Pulled on new ones. She wanted to curl up in his arms, something the old Ash definitely wouldn’t have done. The other things she wanted to do with him must have leaked into her expression because, when he looked her way again, his eyes turned stormy.
Shades of Allegiance Page 9
