by MB Panichi
He tapped on the screen and stretched one of the windows with a flick of his finger. The window still only took up a quarter of the monitor. Shaine didn’t mind. She understood and respected Ellerand’s need to keep his information close.
She squinted. “Blueprints of the compound?”
“They’re a little out of date, but it’s a start. I haven’t had a chance to go over them closely yet. Just got my hands on ’em last night.”
“You’re good, Ellerand.”
He scratched his head. “Yeah, well.” He cleared the screen. “I’ll send ya an upload of everything I have. I’ve got some ideas on how to tackle this.”
“Good, thanks.”
He nodded surreptitiously at one of his monitors.
Shaine followed his gaze to a live surveillance feed boxed in a corner of the monitor, opposite the one where the blueprints were displayed. The video stream showed a tropical scene and a woman strolling slowly through it. Even at a distance she recognized Morgan’s slim figure moving through the conservatory.
Ellerand said, “I got her covered, okay?”
Shaine smiled, feeling a sense of relief at knowing Morgan wasn’t on her own. “Thanks.” She nodded toward the office. “I’d better get in there before he blows a gasket.”
Ellerand grinned. “Yeah, he’s pretty uptight. And Lissa Hedding is seriously pissed with you, by the way.”
Shaine snorted. “Good. Bitch.”
Ellerand threw his head back and laughed.
Shaine grinned and headed to Rogan’s office, figuring it would be an interesting day.
* * *
Morgan stood at the entry to the gardens, missing Shaine’s presence at her side. She glanced behind her at the empty hallway, trying to shake off her unease, angry at herself for feeling that way. Jesus, Morgan. Get the fuck over it. You don’t need Shaine holding your hand. She shook herself mentally, took a long breath and looked into the expansiveness of the indoor garden.
A path of stepping stones led toward the center of the conservatory. She picked her way slowly along. Towering palm trees bordered the trail, reaching toward the clear ceiling some four stories above. The warm, mossy-smelling air clung damply against her skin.
Behind the line of palms, other tropical trees and thick foliage grew in landscaped terraces and rocky outcroppings where springs and waterfalls gurgled into small pools. Vines with gigantic leaves hung haphazardly between the trees. Brilliant flowers bloomed around ponds filled with fish and small reptiles. Birdcalls echoed and blended with the low buzzing of insects. Leaves rustled in a light man-made breeze while butterflies fluttered lazily on the currents. She peered around in wide-eyed wonder. She’d been in the botanical garden at Luna City on the moon a few times, but it was barely a quarter the size of this space and certainly didn’t have anywhere near the variety or quality of foliage. From where she walked, still near the outer edge of the conservatory, she couldn’t see the other side through the vegetation.
She marveled at the lavish amounts of water, heat and energy a conservatory like this required. Only on Earth could someone get away with this kind of excessive use of environmental commodities.
She walked until she reached the center of the conservatory where a multilevel patio was built into a terraced rock plateau. A waterfall at the far side splashed into a shallow pool. Tucked against a craggy rock wall, a glass-topped table and four wrought-iron chairs were shaded by tropical ferns and foliage.
A tray with a chrome thermal carafe, a pitcher of ice water and glasses, and a set of heavy earthen pottery mugs and saucers were arranged on the table. She noticed a small setting of lawn furniture off to the side, including a love seat/glider and several well-padded chairs with wrought-iron drink tables scattered among them.
Morgan looked around, but she appeared to be alone. Enticed by the strong aroma of coffee, she poured herself a mug, adding generous dollops of cream and sugar from a matching service. She brought her steaming coffee to an overstuffed patio chair and settled in. Breathing in the heady, rich scent, she sipped from the mug, relaxing as the warm liquid slid down her throat. She forced herself to wait quietly for Tarm Maruchek.
Minutes passed. Morgan finished her coffee and thought about getting another cup. She was beginning to get impatient when she finally heard footsteps on the flagstones. She looked up to see Maruchek striding toward her. His expression went from serious and lost in his thoughts to smiling and relaxed as he caught her gaze. Even his posture changed—his shoulders dropping and his stride easing by the time he reached the patio.
“Morgan, good morning. I see you found the coffee,” he said.
“I did. It’s good.” She almost rolled her eyes at the way she sounded so bright and intelligent…not.
Maruchek poured himself a cup. “Need a warm-up?” he asked amiably.
“Um, sure. But I can get it.” She started to stand.
He waved her back down, walked over and took her empty mug from her hands. “Sugar and cream?” he asked.
Morgan nodded. “Please.”
He nodded and quickly fixed her coffee, returned the mug to her and settled into a chair with his own mug. He took the time to savor a couple of sips before he turned his gaze onto her. “You slept well, I hope?” he asked.
Morgan ducked her head to hide the flush as visions of Shaine danced through her brain. “Fine, yes, thank you,” she managed. “This place is incredible.”
Maruchek smiled. “It is, isn’t it? Feel free to spend as much time here as you’d like while you’re visiting.” He continued sipping his coffee. “Breakfast should be out shortly.” He observed her over the rim of his mug. “I still can’t get over how much you look like your mother,” he said quietly. “It’s really quite amazing.”
Morgan had no idea how to respond.
Maruchek smiled sadly. “You know, you don’t need to look so shell-shocked. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Her stomach clenched. Didn’t she? A week ago nobody was trying to kill her. She set her mug on the ground at her feet. A hundred thoughts and emotions rushed through her brain. His casual familiarity grated against her nerves. He didn’t know her. She resented how he easily commented on her likeness to a woman he said was her mother, whom she didn’t remember and never would. Part of her wanted to believe his sincerity, but another part wanted to scream accusations at him for the lies he’d told about what happened to Digger.
Maruchek set his mug on the table at his side. “You spoke with your father yesterday.”
Morgan nodded. “I needed to talk to him.”
“And he told you I was not lying?”
Cold bitterness in the pit of her stomach replaced the comforting warmth of the coffee. “I think I’d have been better off never knowing.”
“You’re probably right about that.” Maruchek clasped his hands together and leaned his elbows on his knees. “And I’m sorry that it had to come to this. I would have left you alone if there had been a choice.”
“Would you?”
He spread his hands apart. “Had you heard from me before now?”
“No.”
“And if circumstances hadn’t warranted, it would have remained that way. But I couldn’t ignore the threat to your life.”
Morgan scowled. “I don’t buy it.”
Maruchek’s somewhat regretful and patient expression shifted toward impatient and angry. “Why would I lie to you?” he asked sharply.
“Why wouldn’t you? You lie about everything else. You lied about Digger.”
“Digger?”
Morgan’s temper flashed. You don’t even know his name? She stood abruptly. “John Drygzinski. My best friend. The man who died in my fucking vac suit. You said the suit failed. That was a blatant lie.”
Maruchek’s expression darkened. “I am very sorry about your friend, Morgan, but I have a company to protect.”
Morgan felt something snap inside her and the words tumbled out in a furious rush. “I don’t give a
flying fuck about your corporate profits! People are dying out there. My best friend. My mom. How many others? And what are you doing about it? Lying? Covering it up? You think we don’t know what your priorities are, Mr. Maruchek? Power, money and politics, maybe, but not us workers who are getting our asses kicked out there every day and barely scraping by.” She glared at him, her hands shaking, knowing by the fury in his expression that she’d probably crossed a line. But anger overrode fear. She didn’t back down. “Don’t bother feeding me your corporate line.”
For a long moment they glared at each other. Maruchek was the first to master his anger. “Sit down,” he said.
Morgan didn’t move.
Maruchek spoke slowly and certainly. “You think I don’t care. You are wrong, Morgan. I do care. If I were to speak openly about the terrorists, if the public knew the extent of the damage being done, we would have panic. Is that what you want?”
Morgan swallowed, feeling like a kid being lectured.
“The terrorists are well organized and well funded. A few of the smaller groups are simply anticorporate in general. But most are funded by a single underground group and those are targeting Mann-Maru specifically. My security and the System authorities are doing all they can to get to the bottom of that group and eliminate the threat. We’ve stopped several attacks. But not all of them.”
“So, you know who’s doing it?”
Maruchek’s expression turned dark and cold. “We have good leads on the mid-level operatives, but not the complete overall picture. We’re getting closer to proving who’s funding them. But understand this: everything I do, and everything I say publicly, is meant both to protect my employees and to protect the company that employs them.”
Morgan studied his face. Should she believe him or not? Certainly, he believed in what he told her. Sincerity showed in his eyes. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. Maybe he was just a good actor. He’d had enough practice over the years. On the other hand, he hadn’t lied about being her biological father. Vinn Rahn—her dad—had verified his story. Maruchek’s my birth father. I don’t want to distrust my own father. Even if he is a blood-sucking corporate bastard. Jesus. How’s that for ironic?
Maruchek watched her intently, apparently waiting for her to come to some kind of inner decision. She could tell he was trying to be patient, trying to control his emotions, and she wondered, for a moment, why he didn’t just lash out at her, why he was so obviously trying not to? He wants you to trust him. Do you do what he wants? She warred with her inner voices. Nobody tells me what to do and I refuse to be manipulated. But he hasn’t killed me, called security, or told me to shut the hell up. What does he want from me? What do I want?
She sighed and slowly returned to her chair. She perched on the edge of the seat. What do I want? She considered. At the moment, she really wanted answers. Maybe that was a good place to continue their little discussion. She cocked her head and asked, “Can you tell me why someone wants me killed? You said you had enemies. Shaine told me she’s supposed to kill a man named Charun. What’s really going on?”
Maruchek leaned back. “Would you like the long version or the short version?”
“Short version to start with.”
“Okay, fair enough. More coffee?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know who Tyr Charun is?”
Morgan hesitated, remembering what Shaine had told her the night before, but decided she wanted to hear Maruchek’s version. She trusted Shaine’s information. She had yet to trust the man sitting in front of her. “No idea,” she said evenly.
Maruchek seemed to consider his words and told the facts as though giving a lecture, with little emotion. “Tyr Charun is a businessman. His company, InterSys Enterprises, owns and runs dozens of subsidiaries, most of which are in the mining industry, as are my own. He and I have been rivals for many years. It was a relatively friendly rivalry early on. We knew each other in college, were in the same class. And then we both met Arella Danvers—your mother. Eventually I won her heart and we were married. Tyr never forgave me for what he perceived as stealing his girlfriend, nor did he forgive Arella for making her choice. He never got over her. I can’t explain his obsession with Arella.
“Truly, I can’t explain very much about the man’s behavior over the years. Initially, it was competition between us. Once, I think it could even have been considered friendly, but over the years that changed. For more than two decades, I believe he’s been trying to destroy me and my company. I believe he is part of the group behind the pirate attacks that killed your mother, Elise, as well as the recent rash of ‘accidents’ plaguing my companies, one of which involved you and your crew. Now he knows about you. He will be relentless in his attempts to kill you. You remind him too much of Arella for him to let you go.”
Morgan struggled to understand. “If you know he’s behind it, why not go to the authorities? Why does Shaine have to kill this guy? Can’t you just have him put in jail?”
Maruchek raised a brow. “Unfortunately, we don’t have enough evidence. Everything we have is either circumstantial or supposition. We cannot find an actual, direct tie between Charun and the terrorists. He has made no direct threats to you we could cite.” He set his coffee down on the table at the side of his chair. “No, Morgan, these things are better dealt with our way.”
Morgan looked away. She found herself twisting her mother’s ring on her finger. The habit helped her think. As expected, Tarm Maruchek seemed to believe he was above the law. She supposed maybe, in some ways, he was. She recognized the hardness in Maruchek’s expression. Of course he’d take care of the matter internally—he didn’t want the publicity of a trial. He wanted to deal with it and make it go away.
She raised her head. “But why drag Shaine into this? She doesn’t deserve to be used. She’s just trying to live her life.”
Maruchek met her accusing gaze. “Because I trust her to get the job done.”
Morgan got up, paced across the uneven slate, and stood watching the waterfall splash into the koi pond. Tiny waves played against the grasses and lily pads swaying at the edges of the pool. The water’s quiet movement fascinated and soothed her, allowing a chance to think.
Using Shaine was simply a means to an end. She thought about the tormented look in Shaine’s eyes when she’d said she was going to kill the guy. Her heart ached. Shaine didn’t want to be their assassin, had insisted on trying to put that life behind her.
So how did she reconcile the gentle woman from last night’s lovemaking with the coldhearted killer who worked for Maruchek’s organization? Was she just being naïve?
Shaine planned to kill a man. She’d been a lethal Special Operations commando in Earth Guard. What did that say about Shaine and what she was capable of doing? Did it matter?
Maruchek’s voice drifted quietly across the patio. “I take care of my people, Morgan. My family. My friends. My employees. I know you don’t trust me. But I promise I will not lie to you.”
Morgan didn’t bother replying. She didn’t know what to say. The whole situation felt like a tangled web of lies and games and power plays she didn’t fully understand, and she didn’t know if she wanted to. So what if Maruchek didn’t lie to her? How would she know if he did? It mattered to her a hundred times more if Shaine lied.
She trailed her fingers absently through the cool water, trying to think everything through. Shaine hadn’t hidden the fact she’d been a lethal killer in Earth Guard and intimated she’d done the same for Rogan and Maruchek. Shaine could have easily lied about her past if she’d wanted to.
Morgan closed her eyes, searching her heart. She trusted Shaine, despite knowing maybe she shouldn’t. There was no reason behind the trust—only instinct.
She compared her trust in Shaine to what she’d felt with Gina. Although she’d repeated over and over to herself and to her friends that she trusted Gina, there had always been part of her heart that knew, down deep, the trust was a lie. Her inner kn
owledge had beaten her up with despair at the end. She’d been tormented by an inner voice screaming, “I told you so” when Gina laughed at her and walked away. The same deep-seated voice now insisted Shaine could be trusted, and this time, she actually listened.
She let go a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was tired of thinking. Fuck. She hadn’t even eaten breakfast yet and she was giving herself a headache.
“Come and sit with me, Morgan.”
She turned. Maruchek had shifted in his chair, observing her with a veiled gaze. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but detected no malice.
He spread his hands in an offer of peace. “Please,” he said quietly. “Come and sit. You can ask me anything you want. Perhaps you can tell me about your life? I know I haven’t been a father to you, but I do care. I would like to get to know the woman who is my daughter.”
Morgan returned to the chair across from Maruchek. Something in his tone told her he meant what he said. She eased down into the chair, reached for the mug she’d set on the ground, and took a sip. The coffee was still warm. She cradled the mug in her fingers and gazed down into the creamy brown liquid, wondering where she could even start.
“Your mother was a wonderful woman,” Maruchek said. “Kind and gentle, but strong. She never walked away from a fight, but she never started one, either.” He smiled thoughtfully. “I’ve often wondered if you’d grown up to be like her.”
She glanced at him, realizing he was asking a question as much as making a statement. She took a breath. “I don’t know that I’m any of those things.”
Maruchek only smiled. “I believe you are more than you think.”
Morgan shrugged, uncomfortable with the conversation, not wanting to give too much of herself away, not sure what to say, but not wanting to put him off, either.
Maruchek seemed to want to talk, though. He took the lead again, this time a bit more direct. He commented, “My assistant, Lissa, told me she’d spoken to you last night.”
