Ours to Share: ES Siren 8

by Mel Teshco

  Silo couldn’t keep the disgust that burned through him from entering his voice. “Another garrote victim, so you can have a better wardrobe?”

  She waved a casual hand through the air. “It’s the wrist-chip that reduces us to desperate measures, my dear. The clothes are just an added bonus—though I can only hope Tally has learned to pick out those few women onboard with a more robust figure.”

  Silo inwardly shook his head. He had no idea how Eve AKA Nadia had managed to stay robust on soyroom gruel all these months. But luckily for her, the few women onboard who still had meat on their bones were the civvies. He knew no prisoner, male or female, who had any weight to spare, and Eve’s main goal would be to blend in with the people who were free to come and go.

  It seemed ludicrous that on Earth at one time gluttony had been an epidemic, and childhood obesity, resulting in diabetes, heart disease, and a hundred other issues, had become the biggest killer for the human population.

  Eve tilted her head to the side, studying him. “I guess I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

  He watched her walk away with Jackson. For a bigger-boned woman she moved with speed and surprising grace.

  Raymond waited patiently. Evidently the guard’s role was no longer one of an enforcer. In fact, he sounded friendly and even a little respectful when he said, “Ready when you are.”

  Silo nodded and his guard followed him. Perhaps there really was hope for this New Eden colony, if this man was any indication.

  Equality for all.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if there really was a chance, and if he shouldn’t be grasping it with both hands.

  The guard escorted Silo back to the doors of the hydroponics facility without mishap, despite the extra security. The guards were so preoccupied and strung out after everything that had gone down, they didn’t suspect what was right under their noses.

  Little wonder Eve had gotten away with her disguises so effortlessly.

  Silo began repotting corn seedlings, but for once his mind wasn’t completely on the job. He wanted a real chance at a life with Jasmine and Cloey, and it seemed the opportunity had all but landed in his lap.

  Sure, Eve was as hard as a penny and crazier than a shark in a bloody tank, but he sensed she was also as smart as she was ruthless, and would find a way to make her plans work.

  Now he just had to convince Cloey and Jasmine.

  Chapter 10

  Silo debated whether his dinner of soyroom stew was actually edible because there wasn’t another choice on the menu, or because he was so damn hungry he was ready to chew off his own arm.

  He spooned the last mouthful as Raymond strode into the mess hall and over to the table where Silo and a dozen other cons were seated.

  The guard gestured for Silo to stand as he said harshly, “You need to come with me.”

  Silo frowned, and slowly pushed to his feet. Surely Eve wasn’t going to make his connection with her little group this obvious? Then again, he doubted anyone knew of Raymond’s involvement. Eve was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

  He cleared his throat. “Can I ask why?”

  “You’re a con, a number; you don’t get to ask questions. You only get to obey orders.” The guard slipped in a wink, evidently enjoying the charade. “What I can tell you is that plenty of paperwork was involved.”

  “No fucking way,” Greg murmured from his seat opposite Silo. “The elite women have made him their permanent fuck.”

  Raymond glared. “What was that, 114? You got something to say?”

  Greg shrugged, managing to look contrite. “No. All good here.”

  The guard caressed the butt of his electro-whip. “Keep it that way.”

  A couple of the guards on duty sniggered, enjoying the show. If they only knew where Raymond’s true loyalties lay, they mightn’t be quite so cheery.

  The walk to the women’s cabin was becoming a familiar route, one that Raymond used to his advantage. “So you know what you’ve got to do, right?”

  He swung the guard a dark look and Raymond put his hands up. “Hey, I’m just the messenger … I don’t want my face looking like Jackson’s. Not that he didn’t deserve a little thrashing.”

  Silo glanced at him again. If Raymond was less than impressed with some of the people he’d be rubbing shoulders with on New Eden, why was he so damn keen to forgo the already established colony of Unity? “So what made you decide to join the dark side?”

  Raymond shrugged his shoulders. “Where do I start? For one, I can make something of myself, be whatever I damn well want to be. The opportunities on New Eden won’t be limited by a hierarchy or dumbed down by red-tape politics.”

  Silo wasn’t so sure Eve wouldn’t be the hierarchy, but he kept that thought to himself and instead asked, “You know it’ll be nothing but rocks and seawater?”

  Raymond chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll be pioneers, making history.”

  Silo blew out a slow breath. The guard’s enthusiasm was palpable, stirring up his own yearning to be more than a number, and washing away lingering doubts.

  By the time they’d stopped at the women’s cabin and Raymond rapped on their door, Silo knew his future was in New Eden. But he had no future—at least, not one that was worth living—unless both Cloey and Jasmine were by his side.

  *

  Cloey’s heart skipped a beat at the knock, which signaled Silo’s arrival. She and Jasmine exchanged wide grins, then all but raced to the door. The moment Jasmine swung it open, Cloey launched herself into Silo’s arms.

  Damn, he was so big, strong and virile.

  “Mm. I could get used to this,” he murmured in her ear, his breath warm and soft. Unlike his gorgeous hard body.

  Cloey’s mouth ached with the wideness of her smile as she looked up at him. Damn, had she ever been this happy? She reached up for a kiss that, while brief and chaste, turned her belly inside-out. When he placed her back onto her feet, her smile didn’t dim. It was as though her whole body glowed on seeing him.

  It wasn’t until Cloey stepped back and Jasmine slipped into Silo’s arms that she noticed the guard for the first time.

  He tipped his head toward her and said, “Silo is one lucky man.”

  She stared at him. Since when did guards call cons by their first names? She cleared her throat. “I’d say we’re very lucky women.”

  The guard winked. “Then I’d say you all belong together.”

  If the last guard who’d confronted Jasmine had been a total jerk, this guard acted as though they were all best buddies.

  When Silo had been dragged away to god only knew where, they hadn’t been able to do a damn thing, except get the paperwork to protect him processed as fast as possible. Silo would at least then be safe in their bed at night. When they’d then filed a complaint against the guard “Jackson,” the pen-pushing officer had cast them a puzzled stare, which had quickly shifted to a carefully blank expression.

  She and Jasmine had known immediately something was going on … something the civilians evidently weren’t meant to know. And now here was this guard with an overfriendly attitude—it almost felt like he knew something they didn’t.

  She frowned at the guard. “Yes, we do. Silo, Jasmine and I belong together.”

  Silo’s stare rested on her. “I hope you mean that.”

  Cloey’s chest tightened. “Of course I do,” she glanced at Jasmine, “we both do. We’ve got the paperwork to prove you’re the only man we want.”

  His sexy mouth broke into a grin, before the guard did an odd little salute and said, “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll try and be back here in the morning.”

  Cloey nodded distractedly before she stepped inside the cabin, pushing the door closed after her girlfriend and Silo followed her inside.

  Jasmine frowned at Silo. “That was … weird.”

  Cloey couldn’t agree more. She threw Silo an aggrieved look. “What’s going on?”

  He nodded in the direction of the wall cabinet.
“I think what I have to say might need to be accompanied by a strong drink.”

  As Jasmine grabbed a trio of glasses and tipped in a good measure of scotch, Cloey sat at the table, her knees suddenly too weak to support her. No news was good news. She’d learned that after her mother had confided in her about the affair with Kennedy.

  Silo sat opposite, his expression enigmatic, though Cloey sensed the seriousness that lurked beneath.

  Jasmine bit into her bottom lip as she handed Cloey and Silo their drinks. She sat and focused on him. “You don’t want to stay tonight? Is that it?”

  Silo’s head jerked back, but the shock that filled his face quickly gave way to wry amusement. “Of course I do. Give me some credit, I’m not the world’s biggest fool.”

  Cloey’s tension didn’t ease. Not one bit. “So, what is it then?”

  He sobered, and dragged a hand through his hair, then bit out, “Have you heard any rumors lately in relation to the riots?”

  Cloey’s anxiety rose another notch. “We haven’t, but we figured something is going down.”

  He inclined his head. “Remember when I told you how tough things have been for the prisoners? How desperate things have become?”

  Jasmine took a slug of her drink, wheezed out a cough, then uttered, “Yes.”

  He rubbed a hand over the tribal ink on his neck, as though the tattoo itched. Cloey figured it was nerves. Whatever it was that made him uncomfortable sure as hell wasn’t putting her at ease.

  He cleared his throat, and added, “And remember how I thought there may even have been hostages taken?”

  He looked at Cloey. She bit the inside of her cheek. She still remembered the hell of living on the streets, where people were sometimes taken hostage in the frail hope their families would exchange them for food or water.

  He frowned and his stare became searching … assessing. “Turns out I was wrong. There weren’t hostages, at least, not yet. But there have been murders. And not just of prisoners—civilians, too.”

  “Oh my god,” Jasmine said starkly.

  Silo blew out a heavy breath. “No one is safe. There has even been talk of a commanding officer who was garroted, along with some guards. I assume it’s how that so-called guard, Jackson, acquired his uniform.”

  Cloey couldn’t even form words. Everything was making too much sense, all the pieces fitting together. She pressed a hand to her stomach at the realization that people were being killed—and that she, Jasmine and Silo had been within arm’s reach of a probable murderer.

  Not that she doubted Silo’s ability to protect them, or himself for that matter. Jackson had known he hadn’t had a chance against Silo in a fair fight. So instead, he’d used weapons that were probably stolen from a dead man.

  Silo tossed his drink back, needing its reinforcement. “There is a growing group of disenchanted people onboard—from all walks of life—who don’t plan on making the colony of Unity their home. They want to make their own colony, New Eden, on another continent of Solitaire.”

  Jasmine’s eyes bulged. “No way!”

  Cloey shook her head, her voice coming out hoarse. “That’s crazy.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, it’s not so crazy. It’s a very real and plausible option.” His eyes glinted. “And I’ve been invited to be a part of it.”

  Cloey’s breath stalled, her pulse a thundering echo in her ears. “You’re not seriously considering it?”

  “I am.”

  “But aren’t these the people who are walking around killing others?”

  Silo nodded. “Yes. Just the same as the guards and their superiors, who are quick to push someone out of an airlock or throw them into the Box and leave them to live or die.”

  “What about us?” Jasmine asked, her voice quivering uncharacteristically, and filled with hurt.

  Silo put his drink down and brushed a hand under Jasmine’s chin. “I want you to come with me.” He turned so that his attention also encompassed Cloey. He leaned toward her, his fingertips grazing her cheek and sending tingles of need right through her body. “I want you both to come with me.”

  “So you’re really serious?” Cloey breathed.

  Silo closed his eyes for a moment, as though mustering the right words to tell them. “Yes. It will be a new life. I can start over as a free man, not a prisoner with a ten-year sentence hanging over my head.”

  Cloey’s belly sank—or was it her heart? “We’ll be little more than savages, worse off than the people living on the streets on Earth.”

  At least there, they knew their world, could scrape out some kind of survival. The planet of Solitaire was unknown territory—even Unity, which had been settled ten years before, was considered dangerous. And yet Silo wanted to join a neonatal colony on a piece of rock that was undoubtedly beyond treacherous.

  “Not true,” he refuted. “We’ll be taking supplies and settling on an arable landform that’s free from earthquakes.”

  She recalled Eve asking about a continent below Unity that was safe to live on. Cloey didn’t doubt for one moment it was the same place that’d been chosen. She wouldn’t even be surprised if the middle-aged woman was one of the people going to New Eden.

  “Why are you putting us in this position?” Cloey asked. “We’ve signed the paperwork, done whatever we can to keep us together. Now you want to tear us apart?” She heard the quiver in her voice, felt the flaw within her that wanted to yield and accept Silo’s decision. But she wasn’t weak. She wasn’t going to give in.

  She wasn’t her mother.

  Silo’s nostrils flared, his jaw tight. “That’s fine and good while we’re on the Siren, but once we’re living in Unity, I’m not so certain things will be so great. There’s a very real possibility that we mightn’t be allowed to see each other until I finish my sentence.”

  Cloey turned to Jasmine, needing her support. Except her girlfriend looked … torn. Oh, god. Not her too? Cloey’s face went hot and then cold. “I can’t go … I won’t.”

  Silo’s eyes darkened, glimmering with stark emotion. Grief? Hurt?

  She felt all those things too, and more.

  “I thought maybe I’d be unable to convince you … though I’d hoped…” He looked weary, his voice resigned, flat, and mostly devoid of emotion. “I can’t go to New Eden, not without you both. I’ll stick it out on Unity.”

  Cloey shook her head, refusing to be weak. She wouldn’t allow the one man she cared about—more than cared—to sacrifice his own needs because of her. “No. You should go. You belong there.”

  *

  And we don’t.

  Cloey didn’t need to say the words. Once an elite, always an elite.

  It didn’t stop the pain from searing through Silo’s chest like a red-hot poker. Didn’t they understand? Yeah, maybe he did belong there, but not because he was a filthy, no-hoping con. He belonged there because he could make something of himself, make both these women proud.

  Except he couldn’t form the words, could barely even process the different, untapped emotions pouring through his body.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying, and failing, to gather his composure. Did he really mean so little to Cloey? He looked at Jasmine. Her eyes glittered like dark shards in her pale face. She was upset, but a cynical part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she felt betrayed by him too, like he should have been grateful for what he had with them.

  He dragged a hand over his face even as nausea prickled his insides. Perhaps he should feel grateful. Lord only knew there were enough cons onboard who’d take his place in a heartbeat.

  What had he been thinking anyway, imagining for one minute these women would leave their worldly comforts, and everything familiar, just to be with him? On a colony that might never even make it off the ground?

  He wouldn’t have asked them to come with him if he thought for even a second that the new colony wouldn’t succeed.

  Still, they deserved better. Better than h
im. Perhaps it was best that he did leave. If he walked outside without a guard as escort, it wouldn’t be long before he had more than enough uniformed men surrounding him.

  Even thoughts of being in the Box as punishment didn’t scare him anymore. He swallowed hard. Nothing could be worse than living without the women he’d come to think of as his.

  Chapter 11

  Jasmine’s eyes widened as Silo pushed to his feet and murmured, “You don’t need any paperwork to know it’s you two who belong together. I have no place here, I never have. Not as a con.”

  She jerked to her feet. “That’s not true. You’re far more than just some prisoner! You’re an amazing teacher and a gifted musician. And that’s not even touching on the selfless act that got you arrested!”

  “That doesn’t change things between us though, does it?” he asked.

  As he took a step back toward the door, her throat closed, stalling any further words in her throat. She wanted to shout Silo’s praises loud and long, give him no choice but to listen.

  He was so much more than what she’d said. More, even, than an exceptional lover and a magnificent man.

  He was … theirs. Plain and simple.

  He put a hand on the door. Her eyes widened. Fuck. A wrist-chip wasn’t needed on the inside of their door. He could walk out into the corridor and they might never see him again. “Where are you going?”

  She glanced at Cloey. Damn. No help there. Her girlfriend was running scared from demons in her past. She hadn’t moved from her seat and she was as pale as she was icily distant.

  Silo stilled at the door, then turned and faced them. For the last time? His eyes looked so much older, even a little haunted. Deep grooves were etched beside his mouth. “As foolish as it sounds, it hasn’t just been sex between us. At least, not for me. I wanted a future with you both, but I was a fool to imagine we … you … could live someplace that has yet to be tamed. I should go and … I’ve always hated goodbyes.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “Who said anything about goodbye?”

  She refused to say it to him. Not like this. Not without a fight.