Desire Disguised

by Lynn Rae

  Ben stared up at her and didn’t know what to say. He’d probably already said more than enough. It was enough to have made Cara’s difficult evening even worse.

  “Why not stay here? It’s safe. There are so few people, and we’re well off the main routes—”

  Cara shook her head. “Soren has a plan.”

  Ben stood up and paced, his anxious energy too hot to contain any longer. He needed her to stay, didn’t want to think about how empty his days were going to be, to know he’d never see her again. “I don’t understand how you can just go, just leave like nothing happened.”

  “A lot happened.” Cara twisted her hands together and lowered her head. “Good things, but it’s time for us, for me, to leave all this fantasy behind and get back to our real life. That’s what’s waiting for us.”

  “Real life? You call hiding and running and not using your name forever a real life? Cara, you’ve got it all wrong. If you’d had the chance to do some normal things before this, you’d realize—”

  “All right. I get it.” Her mouth tightened and her eyes locked on to his. “You think I’m incompetent, can’t think for myself, and I should delude myself into playing house a while longer. And then, when the assassins come and decapitate Mat in front of me, what’ll happen then, Ben? Oh, wait, I know. They’ll kill me next and that will be the end of my fake real life.”

  “You don’t know that, you can’t.” Ben backed away from his temper. Her fright and distress poured out of her in waves he could almost feel.

  “Because I’m uneducated and inexperienced, right?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Ben dragged in a huge breath, held it, and when he exhaled he tried again. “I’m saying you’d be as safe here as anywhere. So why leave?”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she sobbed once. “It’s gotten too easy. I’ve let my guard down. So we leave before I make any more mistakes.”

  “You think it was a mistake to tell me? To trust me? What have I ever done to make you doubt me?” Cara flinched and closed her eyes, and he wanted desperately to go to her and hold her tight. But confining her might set her off, so he simply put his hands on his hips. “Tell me it was a mistake, say I am a mistake to you, and I won’t mention another word about this.”

  He didn’t want to hear her answer, he wished he’d never said any of it, and he’d just given her a hug and left before this confrontation had heated up. But he couldn’t resist the masochism, couldn’t stop himself from watching her for even a few more seconds when he knew she’d be gone. Maybe if she negated what was between them, it would burn away his attachment to her. She shook her head and made an anguished sound deep in her throat as she pressed a hand to her belly. “This hurts. I don’t understand why it hurts so much.”

  He didn’t know how to respond. He hurt too. Knowing she was in pain and he was contributing to it in some way cooled his anger and regret laced through him. She was sheltered, and he’d just blundered right in and compromised her worldview. It wasn’t as if he was going to be a permanent part of her life, and here he hoped she would say she cared about him. Confirm that their time together meant more than enjoyable sex. He was a selfish ass.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we’re arguing. You need to rest, and we aren’t going to resolve anything tonight.” That was the mature response, the right way to treat her. He wouldn’t impress her by grabbing her hands, falling to his knees and begging her to stay.

  “I’m sorry too, Ben.” Cara took a shuddering breath and tightened her arm around herself. “We can’t see each other anymore. That way.”

  Another blow. Rocking back on his heels, Ben was stunned to immobility. He didn’t know how to respond. What had he been hoping for, a continual sex romp until she left? He just wished he’d known their previous encounter was going to be their last time.

  Time to retreat and let the pain come. “Goodnight, Cara. Please rest.”

  Ben was comfortably ensconced in the single chair of the only tonsor in Pearl, able to look out the windows at the main street and observe life slowly passing by as he waited for his haircut. A lot of folks waited to have their appearance altered whenever a vanity ship pulsing with the latest music, clothing, and stylish adornments came in, but Ben liked the calm of Kimb’s place. The tonsor was willing to do most of the talking which suited him and the dark mood he’d been mired in since Cara had withdrawn.

  As Kimb ran the clippers across his head, Ben reflected he much preferred the feel of Cara’s fingertips. Not that he’d ever experience it again. Whenever he thought of her imminent departure, pain hit his gut as hard as if he’d sprung a booby trap. Rather than sink into that pit, Ben tried to think of something good. His mind remained blank for too long, and he jumped when Kimb spoke up.

  “So, I heard about the Emmert trial starting this week. What a terrible thing.”

  Ben couldn’t nod agreement, or he might be nicked by the clippers. “Terrible, yes.”

  “I knew Tym a bit. He’d come in for a trim whenever he remembered it, but I don’t believe I ever met Rory. They worked that claim in the northwest section, didn’t they?”

  “They did.” Ben watched as a battered loader trundled down the street at a slow pace. It was overloaded with sheets of synthboard, and he expected one to slide out at any moment. If it did, he’d have to leave the chair and attend to the cleanup before someone else ran into it and jammed a toe, or broke the board, which would enrage the owner. Sometimes being chief of safety services was like being in charge of a bunch of toddlers who needed naps.

  “So what brought you in for a trim today? Not that I’m complaining about the business, but it hasn’t been a month, has it?”

  “Just wanted it neatened up I guess.”

  “That’s right; the big party starts tomorrow night. There might be a pretty woman or two to chat with.” Kimb’s deep voice lightened with amusement as he continued to apply the clippers, taking small, controlled swipes around Ben’s ear.

  “Probably.” Ben had plans to circulate among the crowds and perhaps have dinner at one of the temporary food stands that would pop out of the side of the visiting entertainment ship, along with hairdressers, clothing, media pods, anything to separate extractors from their newly earned marks. It would have been nice to stroll around with Cara and Mat, but that was before.

  “‘Bout time you found someone to entertain you.”

  “I’m entertained enough.”

  Kimb brushed at his neck and harrumphed. “You do see a bit of excitement in your job I’m sure. But I’m talking about your time off.”

  Ben wasn’t going to talk about how he spent his time off with a man who chattered for a living. If Kimb had an inkling about what had happened between Ben and Cara, he’d have dropped his clippers. “I don’t have any time off.”

  “See, that’s what I’m saying. If you had someone attractive to go home to, you’d be sure to take time off. It’s not healthy to work constantly, always think about it when you’re not there. Distractions are good. I mean, I like my job, but I like spending time with Alam even more.”

  Kimb was right. He usually was. Having a partner had never been part of Ben’s plans. Too busy, too solitary, too quiet to be appealing to anyone. Those attributes had seemed to resonate with Cara for some reason, probably because she embodied them as well. They understood each other, which was pretty amazing considering how different their life experiences had been. He’d never found such compatibility with someone so quickly. Not that it mattered any more.

  For several days before she’d told him she was leaving he’d been fighting the realization he wanted Cara to be the person he came home to. The person he loved. Of course, now that she had a flight scheduled off world in two days, he felt foolish for even thinking it.

  Huffing out a sigh at the melancholy turn of his thoughts, Ben refocused his attention out the window as Kimb went to work trimming around his other ear. Myltin Tarl strutted into view, his thin arms and legs rigid as he ma
neuvered around a pallet of buckets left askew and blocking the sidewalk. His sharp eyes scanned the area, and when he spotted Ben through the large window, he stood straighter and changed his trajectory to enter the tonsorial parlor. Ben wished he could have ducked and hidden under the smock wrapped around his shoulders, but it was too late. That was the disadvantage to having a nice view out, someone would have an equally nice view in. The door rattled and the smaller man entered as if something chased him.

  “Myltin. In for a trim?” Kimb was entirely serious, but the other man’s sparse hair would have made it a short piece of work. Maybe the tonsor charged half-price.

  “No. I saw the chief here and need to tell him something. Or show him something, more accurate.”

  Ben hoped he didn’t wince with dread. Tarl wasn’t put off by whatever his expression had been. Instead, he edged closer and pulled out his datpad and opened a display. Ben found it difficult to see because he held his head at an upright angle to allow Kimb to continue his work, so whatever images Myltin pulled up he could only make out small parts. First was a lineup of young children posed against a patterned wall, their expressions as serious as if they expected to be grounded.

  “These are the La Torre children. Remember I told you about how I thought those Belascos resembled La Torre? I did, I know I did. So, I decided to seek some images of them. This was difficult to find, I’ve been waiting thirteen drops before the galactic archive sent it at my request. This was the only official portrait that included all the children. Almost all, the infant wasn’t yet born with this one. In any case, the resemblance is obvious.”

  Ben glanced at the partially obscured images. Cara and Mat weren’t one of these children, but Myltin’s research had brought him far too close to the truth for comfort. Time to give him just enough attention to compliment him and hopefully lead him down a different path, at least until the Belascos were gone. “How old would they be now?”

  Myltin shook his head as he stared at the image. “Hard to say. So much of the information about them was never part of any public record. The La Torre and their security forces were worried about kidnapping and assassination, for good reason, and the less detail available about them the better. From their point of view. Lots of disinformation too, about spouses and names and who was related to whom. Makes my job that much more difficult.”

  Ben bit his tongue rather than remind Myltin none of this was his job. Kimb was interested. Ben felt him stop cutting and lean over his shoulder to get a better look at the image.

  “They seem unhappy,” the tonsor remarked.

  “They should be, growing up in that environment. Did you know the royal children lived under near house arrest their whole lives? The political environment had grown so hostile by the time the last monarch began breeding they stayed within the palace their whole lives, until nearly the end when they were evacuated to the imperial flagship. That didn’t turn out well for them or anyone else on board. Including that maniac Ignar, you remember him, don’t you, Chief? I had cousins there, and they told us stories that would make your legs go boneless.” Myltin grinned a little at the idea, and Ben suppressed yet another expression of distaste at the strange man’s lack of sympathy toward others.

  “So, they were killed along with the adults and staff?” Ben thought a subtle reminder that these lost children were long dead and had no relationship to Cara and Mat might make an impression.

  “According to all official reports. But of course, the explosion was so horrific, and the few remains were so damaged, that no one could be sure. They only managed to recover a few confirmed dna-prints since nearly everything organic was vaporized. It’s entirely possible someone smuggled them to safety. Why wouldn’t they have a contingency plan in place? You and I both know they were paranoid and devious.” Myltin raised his eyebrows at Ben as if they were in on some secret.

  Ben had his doubts but kept them to himself. Luckily, Kimb was interested enough to keep up the conversation.

  “And they’ve stayed hidden to this day? That sounds really far-fetched. Children all alone, no funds, nowhere to live.” Thank the stars Kimb thought aloud. Myltin listened with a frown on his face.

  Ben happened to know it was possible, but just not for the children Myltin was obsessed with. The late secret police commander would have been skilled at deception and paranoid enough to be able to pull off such a long-term plan for his own progeny, but there was no way a monarch’s heirs would be able to remain hidden for so long. There would have been too much at stake for the opposition to ever stop trying to eradicate any person for royalists to rally around or make claim to state property. If Myltin was one thing, it was thorough. He was probably well-versed in Ignar’s deeds and actions, but hopefully, not the man’s personal life. Ben wasn’t sure how he was going to react if the nosy man mentioned the children of Ignar.

  “I can prove it with facial recognition programs. I have some. All I need is a digima of the woman, full on, and I can start matching up features.”

  “With an image this old and vague? These kid’s faces resembled tan ovals. You can’t even tell the shapes of their noses or mouths.” Kimb sounded skeptical, and Ben was pleased he didn’t have to quash the nosy man’s interest.

  “It’ll take some time. First I have to get her to stand still for a digima.”

  Ben wasn’t worried now. Cara was about as likely to pose for a portrait as she was to put on a concert in the gathering hall. She’d also be out of Myltin’s range very soon. Ben flinched at the thought. Even if Myltin caught her unawares and managed a digima, Cara wasn’t one of the royals, so the comparative software would have nothing to matchup.

  “Myltin, I’m going to remind you that you can’t go following someone and trying to take their image. It’s considered an invasion of privacy and intimidation. I’d hate to arrest you.” Ben acted as if he joked by smiling and giving Tarl an inclusive, we’re-on-the-same-side grin.

  “But, Chief, if it’s for the good of Pearl—”

  “The law doesn’t see it that way, and I know the magistrate wouldn’t either. Neither she nor the boy has caused a whisper of a problem since they’ve been here, and soon enough they’ll be gone. Let’s let them have some peace while they’re here.” Again he felt that pang deep in his gut when he thought about Cara and Mat leaving. The idea that they’d be on their own again out there in the callous universe made him tense and short-tempered.

  Myltin sniffed and closed his display with a violent stab of his finger. “I’m not looking to cause problems for them. It’s not their fault their parents were rapacious demons. But we should all know exactly what we’re dealing with here, just in case.”

  The man stood and gave both Ben and Kimb a stiff nod and exited the shop with a clatter.

  “Guess I didn’t entice him to stay and get a trim,” Kimb remarked with a resigned tone. He brushed a few times at the back of Ben’s neck and whipped off the protective smock. “Done. You’re now squared away and fit for duty.”

  Ben gave his image a cursory glance in the mirror, wondering for a second what Cara had seen in his run of the mill features; short dark hair, caramel skin, deep brown eyes, and a dour expression. It didn’t really matter anymore.

  “So, are you going to be at the landing party?” Kimb busily tallied up the cost of the service, and Ben transferred the appropriate marks to him as he nodded. “On patrol?”

  “No, that’s covered by others. I’ll be there incognito.” It was a wishful thought only. He was well aware that he was always on duty whenever he appeared in public. It was only in private he could relax his demeanor. Or with her.

  “If I see you, I’ll buy you a drink.” Kimb thrust out his hand, and they said their goodbyes. As he left the shop, Ben squinted from the glare of Gamaliel’s sun and checked the time on his datpad. She’d be gone in fifty-three hours.

  Chapter 12

  Ben spotted them from thirty meters away. Cara and Mat both had the same color hair, a distinctive red-bro
wn shade, and their builds were equally slim and tall, easy to pick out in a crowd. Ben had a sudden recollection of Ignar from one of the news reports he’d watched as a child. The man had been thickly built with stiff, icy looking hair. The Belascos must have taken after their mother, hopefully in most things.

  Mat and Cara skirted the edges of a group milling around a clothing shop doing rollicking business in boots and raingear. Mat had to have applied a lot of pressure on his sister to convince her to venture out among the festive people surrounding the lander.

  He wondered if he should simply turn and walk in the opposite direction to avoid them. That felt cowardly. Continuing on his current trajectory and greeting them if they happened to meet was the correct thing to do. Putting one foot in front of the other, he headed their way, unable to veer closer to the ship’s side because of the clusters of people buying sushi and trying on hats at different counters.

  Mat spotted him first and called out in a shout of delight. Ben had eyes only for Cara; at her brother’s greeting, she turned away from a display of cookware she’d been inspecting and stared at him with no expression. His heart sank, and he wished he’d retreated. Mat had already run to his side and exchanged an elaborate handshake with him, so there was no way he could avoid speaking with her.

  The caution in her eyes made him hesitate, and he was silent as she said hello. Collecting himself with a shake, he returned her greeting.

  “Ben, have you seen this place? It’s amaze! There is a fire breather on the other side, we saw it!” The boy’s enthusiasm filled the quiet between him and Cara, and Ben was grateful.

  “I saw it too. Issued the permits after I made sure she was qualified. I didn’t want her burning down Pearl.”

  Mat nodded, his eyes gleaming as he contemplated the miracle of the fire breather. It had been a dramatic production; the woman added different chemicals to the accelerant which produced colors and glittering effects. Cara’s silent presence bothered him like a pebble in his shoe.