Shades of Allegiance

by Sandy Williams

It usually took a lot to set him off. Ash had the unique ability to do it in three seconds flat, but she was Ash. No one else was like her.

  Deliberately dismissing Chace, he turned his attention to Mira. “Ash is still asleep?”

  “Ash is taking a shower,” Chace said. “She likes them long and hot.”

  Rykus set down his coffee and—

  “I like a lot of things long and hot.” Ash sauntered into the room, stopped by Rykus’s chair, and bent toward him. “You want to join me next time? I’d love the company.”

  He wasn’t prepared for the kiss. He wasn’t prepared for her sweet, clean scent or the deep, demanding brush of her tongue against his. Her hair was damp, her skin warm and moist from the shower.

  She looped one hand behind his neck, placed the other high enough on his thigh that blood pumped to his groin. He knew what this was. Ash had slipped into her old skin. She’d become the teasing, sensuous, sexy-as-hell siren who’d survived Glory and given him hell on Caruth. This was a character, a role she was playing to show the others she was the same free-loving woman who’d left this planet. He should be offended by the act. He should be pissed for being made a part of it. He should be indignant and irritated and a hundred of other things, but when that hand edged closer to where he wanted it and she pulled his lower lip between her teeth, all he could think was fuuuuuck.

  Too soon, she put her hand on his chest, preventing him from following when she eased back. She gave him a smile that made him want to tear her tank top off. Then she squeezed his thigh one last time and strolled away.

  The dining room exploded back into existence with an almost audible boom.

  He watched her walk to the coffeepot. The moment she was healthy and they were safe, he would make her regret that stunt. He’d make her regret it again and again and—

  A chuckle pulled his attention to his left. Chace crossed his arms, leaned against a counter, and shook his head in a way that clearly said, You poor bastard.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” Ash said, pressing a kiss to Emmit’s cheek before handing one of the two mugs she’d poured to Chace. “Sit down and shut up.”

  The mug almost fell. Chace saved it, sloshing a good amount of brew over the cup’s rim.

  Ash pulled out the chair between Rykus and Mira and sat. Someone—Logan, Rykus presumed—pushed a cart into the room. Emmit had had the foresight to ask for breakfast for all of them. He helped Logan place the trays on the table, thanked the other Seeker, then took the chair to Rykus’s right. Chace might not have wanted to sit at the same table as him, but the lure of the food was too much. He took the chair opposite Rykus.

  They ate in silence. The hand-cooked eggs and vegetable medley were almost as good as the coffee. Three types of bread and an assortment of cheeses filled a second plate on each tray. If they hadn’t been famished, it would have been a ridiculous amount of food.

  Forks clanked against plates. At one point, Ash rose to pour herself a second cup of coffee. Rykus watched her walk to the counter and back, well aware that Chace was focused on him.

  Ash sank back into her chair. Rykus continued eating, attempting to ignore Ash when she looked back and forth between him and Chace.

  She poked her fork into a purple vegetable. “I think you two should fight it out.”

  “I’m in,” Chace said.

  Rykus gave her his best unamused expression.

  “Really,” she said. “This tension is bad for your health.”

  “No fighting policy,” Emmit reminded her.

  “No one has to tell Bian.” She set down her fork and stretched, causing her tank to rise, revealing a strip of her flat stomach.

  “Don’t give him an excuse to boot you,” Emmit said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” She ran her fingers through her shower-damp hair, then began twisting it into a thin braid over her left shoulder.

  “That’s new,” Emmit said.

  Ash’s fingers paused. She glanced down, seemed to become aware of what she was doing, then she looked at him.

  A smile fought for control of his mouth. That braid was a token that said she was his. She’d started wearing it on Caruth, back before the loyalty training when her sole intention had been to set him off. It had worked, but she’d continued wearing it because, she’d said, it reminded her of him.

  “You’re feeling better,” Rykus said.

  “It’s amazing what a day and a half of sleep will do for you.” She finished the braid and gave him a warm smile. She erased it quickly though and focused behind him.

  A different kind of grin spread across her face. “Good morning, pops.”

  Emmit’s father entered the kitchen. He froze when he saw Ash and looked like he was about to leave. Instead, he squared his shoulders and crossed the room to the counter.

  “I took the last of the coffee,” Ash practically purred. Bian glared over his shoulder. Ash brought her mug to her lips for a loud slurp.

  This must have been where Ash perfected her trigger-an-outrage skills. Bian looked like he wanted to shed his patriarch persona and wrap his hands around her throat. Rykus knew the feeling. Those little looks, the strategically chosen words and tone, they all combined into a package designed to destroy the steadiest composures.

  Rykus didn’t want to see the patriarch lose his shit, so he pushed his chair back from the table. “I was going to make a new pot.”

  “What will it take to get you off this planet?” Bian said the words through gritted teeth.

  Ash leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “Well, I don’t know. You should talk to Chace about that. He really, really wants me to stay.”

  “Ash,” Rykus rumbled. Her wide, innocent eyes shifted to him. “Too much.”

  “Who are you?” Bian demanded, turning on him. “You’re not the usual scum she associates with.”

  “No, Patriarch,” he said. “I’m not.”

  Bian went still at the emphasis on his title. It seemed to realign him. He closed his eyes and took a slow, meditative breath.

  “My apologies,” Bian said. “You are welcome in this House. What can we do to help you on your journey?”

  Rykus rinsed the glass coffeepot. “When the next capsule arrives, we could use transportation. You’re permitted humanitarian travel, correct?”

  “We import supplies and donations. Sometimes Seekers come and go, but we provide a complete passenger manifest, and we follow the rules. That’s why we’re permitted direct flights between the local launch platform and the capsule. If the bosses learned we violated our agreement, they’d kick us off-planet.”

  “Is there anything space-worthy at the break yards?” Ash asked.

  Bian half looked at her and glared. “We’re not risking our immunity.”

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t trace us to you.”

  “And how will you do that?” Bian practically spat. “The launch will light up this district and narrow his search area. We will have a big red target on our roof.”

  “No one would have to worry about Scius if we took him out.” Chace delivered the words as casually as if he was suggesting a stroll, not a murder.

  “We’re staying away from Scius,” Ash said.

  “He’s not staying away from you.”

  Chace and Ash stared at each other. Rykus watched the silent war. He knew Ash’s mission, her true focus of this trip home. It made sense that she wouldn’t want to become entangled in other messes, but his gut told him there was more to it than that. He’d never known Ash to shy away from a difficult situation. She was a fight first, ask questions later type of person, and she thought she was invincible. This Scius sounded like someone she’d want to take down, not someone she would run from.

  He measured the freshly ground coffee beans and added them to the press.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Emmit said.

  “Emmit,” Bian snapped. “You have things to do. Go.”

  “If we help them take out—”

  “
They’re speaking of murder! There will be no discussion of this. Attend to your duties.”

  “But—”

  “Out. Now.” Bian’s face turned an impressive shade of red.

  Glaring at his father, Emmit rose from the table. “An SG-220 landed a few days ago. They haven’t started breaking it apart yet.”

  He shoved his chair under the table and left the room.

  Rykus added water to the grounds, then pushed down on the lever, lowering a solid glass plunger that slowly pressed the water through the filter. “We don’t want to cause you trouble.”

  “Ash always causes trouble,” Bian said. “Her presence here risks our immunity already.”

  “I understand.” Rykus poured coffee into a mug, then handed it to the patriarch. “We’ll find somewhere else to stay until the next capsule arrives.”

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Chace said, his voice tight. Rykus didn’t look at the other man, but he could feel his eyes lasering into the back of his head.

  “That’s unnecessary,” Bian said begrudgingly. “Another capsule has already arrived in system.”

  “That’s… quick,” Ash said. She met Rykus’s gaze. “Capsules never arrive back-to-back here. They’re more likely to skip Glory than to stay on schedule. I can’t remember the last time two showed in one week. Unless this is a new thing?” She looked at Chace.

  He was frowning too. “No.”

  Either this was a coincidence of interstellar proportions or something else caused the capsule to jump to Glory.

  A wave of apprehension went through him. The capsule’s arrival was good news—he’d been waiting for the next data dump, worried about his family and how things were going on Javery—but it also signified something else.

  He watched Ash, noted the way she’d moved to the edge of her chair, noted the eagerness in her eyes and the anticipation radiating from her like heat from a star. For the past three days, they’d been trying to survive. Her attention had been focused on that, but something had seemed off, like she was a transport veering a degree off a very specific path. Now she’d realigned her trajectory. She was sure she’d reached that next waypoint, and he agreed. There was one likely explanation for the capsule’s arrival.

  Ash had finally caught Neilan Tahn’s attention.

  15

  “You that eager to run away?” Chace asked, derision dripping from his words. It was almost enough to dampen Ash’s mood—almost—but the work she’d done the past month, the threads she’d woven and cut, were finally paying off. Tahn had to be on that capsule. That meant she was close to getting answers. She’d find out what Trevast had meant by factions, find out how deeply he was involved in the telepaths’ infiltration of the Coalition, and find out how deeply that infiltration had corrupted the government she was sworn to preserve and protect.

  She’d gouge out that affliction one soul at a time… if Tahn didn’t have her killed first.

  That was the biggest kink in her plan. Tahn had wanted Trevast to kill her. He was known to be ruthless, and he guarded information about himself and his dealings so vigilantly few people were willing to risk mentioning his name. If a dreg stumbled across a business or person that fell under his protection, they scurried the other way. For most of her life, Ash had avoided all schemes that might interrupt his businesses. But not anymore. This month, she’d disrupted and altered and, in more than one case, demolished his plans and interests.

  All four legs of Chace’s chair slammed to the floor. “Are you listening?”

  Ash refocused on the present. Bian had left. Chace glared at her from behind the breakfast table.

  “Actually, no,” Ash said sweetly. “I wasn’t.”

  The tendons in his neck stood out. She really ought to be careful with him. When she finally convinced him she wasn’t going to stay, he’d change whatever scheme he was running. He’d stop trying to work with her, and Chace was dangerous when you entered his crosshairs.

  A muscle beneath his left eye twitched. “We have to take Scius out. The whole planet saw me and Mira jumping the causeway with you. He won’t forget that.”

  “I agree,” Ash said. “That’s why Mira is getting on that capsule.”

  Mira leaned forward. “If Scius is dead, I’m safe.”

  Ash groaned. “We’re not killing Scius.”

  “Why the hell not?” Chace demanded. “This is an opportunity. Everyone knows you’re back—”

  “I’m not back.”

  Chace slammed his fist on the table. “Then why the fuck are you here! Why did we take the causeway?”

  A spark lit in her chest, the beginning of a simmer that might lead to a detonation.

  “I took the causeway, Chace, so I could use it to barter for our lives. We were lucky Denn showed up to save our asses.”

  “It wasn’t luck.” He matched the menace in her voice. “What do you think I’ve been doing since you left?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” The words were a challenge, a threat, a flat-out warning to think about his response because her patience was shot. He knew it too. She could see him weighing his choices, trying to decide if he should back off or push her over the edge.

  “Ninety-nine percent of the dregs on this planet thought you were dead,” he said. “One percent knew you weren’t.”

  He’d erased the vehemence from his tone, but it was still in his posture, in his stiff shoulders and the fists he clenched on top of his thighs.

  “Who?” Her question was a whisper spoken through a cavern of icicles.

  “People I trusted.”

  “Who did you trust?”

  His nostrils flared. “Hawksley. Beck. Yates. There would be others if Scius hadn’t killed or taken them.”

  Taken. Chace used that word deliberately, setting it out there like a poisoned meal placed in front of a starving man. She didn’t ask what had been done to them though. She wasn’t back. She didn’t care.

  “Three sub-bosses,” Ash said. “You’re a fucking idiot. But tell me, did they get impatient or did you?”

  Chace didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He just sat there processing her words.

  “What do you mean?” he finally asked.

  “You sent assassins to Meryk.”

  Both Rykus and Mira were watching their exchange. Rykus looked at ease sitting in his chair, his arms crossed. Mira, on the other hand, was tense. Quiet. Ash was surprised she hadn’t tried to deescalate the conflict already.

  “I didn’t hire assassins,” Chase said deadpan.

  “If it wasn’t you, it was one of your buddies. Two dregs tracked me down. They were Gloridian.”

  More silence as Chace worked through whatever thoughts he had ricocheting around his head. After several seconds, one hit.

  Chace’s hand swiped out, hitting his breakfast tray. It spun across the table, hit an empty chair, then clattered to the ground.

  “Why the hell would I want you dead when I wanted you here?”

  “They weren’t very good assassins,” she said, unperturbed. “And I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  “No.” He shot to his feet. “You’re not fucking here.”

  Ash rose too. So did Rykus. Mira tried to interject reason, but Chace was too irate to listen. He kicked his chair over.

  “You’re physically here, but your mind is in the stars. This isn’t you. He”—he jabbed a finger in Rykus’s direction—“isn’t you.”

  “You don’t know who I am anymore.”

  Chace kicked his chair again. This time it slammed into the wall. He picked it up, looked like he was about to launch it her way, but Rykus shot forward and yanked it from his hand.

  That’s when Chace lost it. That’s when he went for the gun holstered at his side. He didn’t get it free, probably hadn’t even intended to. He took a blow from Rykus with a surprisingly small stagger backward, then he swung a fist.

  Rykus ducked.

  “Stop!” Mira yelled. Ash forced herself to stay where she was. Rykus would
demolish Chace. It wouldn’t even be a close match.

  Chace charged, shoving Rykus over the toppled chair. Rykus landed on his back, used momentum to throw Chace past him, then leaped back to his feet.

  Mira tried to stop Chace’s next attack. “I did it.”

  He brushed past her, grabbed an empty coffee mug from the table, and launched it at Rykus’s head. Rykus dodged but took a hard kick to his knee.

  Chace went for a takedown, which was really fucking stupid. Rykus countered, flipped him, then locked his arm around Chace’s neck. Chace thrashed, but Ash knew from experience there was no getting out of that choke hold. It was locked in too deep.

  “Stop!” Mira shouted again.

  Rykus waited for a sign from Ash. Chace wouldn’t tap out. He’d struggle until it was lights out. It was probably for the best.

  “I did it, okay,” Mira said. “I sent the assassins!”

  Chace stopped fighting. Rykus loosened his hold, letting him pull more air into his lungs.

  Ash turned toward Mira. “You did what?”

  Mira closed her eyes and deflated, her shoulders sagging. “I sent the assassins. I mean, the Gloridians. They were supposed to give you a message, but…” She sucked in a breath. “I think that’s how Scius learned you were alive. I think they might have told him.”

  Messengers turned assassins. That explained their incompetence, but…

  “Chace knew how to get in touch with me.”

  “I thought you might be dead,” he said.

  Rykus let him go. The dreg rolled to his hands and knees. Coughed. Then, when he caught his breath, he climbed to his feet.

  “You hadn’t responded to my messages in months, and then the credits stopped flowing.”

  The credits had stopped flowing because the Coalition had charged her with treason and cut off her financial accounts. She had access again, but she hadn’t yet set up new funnels for the funds.

  “I didn’t know about the assassins,” Chace said.

  “Messengers,” Mira muttered.

  He threw her a glare. “I would have stopped her from sending them.”

  “What was the message?” Ash asked.

  “For you to come home.” She sank into a chair. “It was bad before you left, but it got worse. Scius got worse. He’s responsible for thousands of deaths. He needs to go, and you’re the only one who has the ability and the courage to do it.”