Yeah, he’d like to know the answer to that himself, though he supposed this sudden appearance of unwanted backup was inevitable. He’d told Rayna in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want them here, that he would refuse to let the Thrane scan Del. And now, how was he going to explain all this to Charlie?
“Can I get anyone a cup of coffee?” Charlie said as the three found seats in the living room.
“That would be great,” Rayna answered.
“Can I help?” Lana offered.
“Oh, no.” Was that just a little too sweet? Rafe narrowed his eyes at Charlie and caught the look that told him he was in trouble. “Rafe can help me.” In the kitchen, now, that look said.
At the sink, she flipped the faucet, turning on the water full blast to fill the coffee pot. “Okay. What’s going on? And don’t give me any bullshit about friends from Canada. Most friends don’t go around in black ops outfits with some kind of weird raygun on each hip.”
Yup, she was pissed all right. “Charlie, I . . .” He stopped, considered, started again. “I can explain, but it will have to be later. My friends and I have business to take care of—private business—then they can go home, and I can tell you all about it.”
“Private business?” She drew herself up to her full height—she really was tall, he realized—and glared at him. “Oh, hell, no. You are not getting off that easy. I didn’t run screaming after last night’s shenanigans, remember? If I’m all in, then so are you.”
The crazy thing was, he wanted to tell her. He wanted to open his mouth and let it all out—every detail of his life, the battles he’d fought, the danger he’d put her in, the demons he wrestled with every day. He wanted to confess his sins and throw himself on her mercy. He wanted to start clean with her.
Instead he swallowed it all back down again. “I didn’t ask for these people to come here, Charlie. The . . . department Del and I used to work for sent them. I plan to get rid of them as soon as I can.”
She shook her head, frustrated, her hands busy with the coffee. “That doesn’t answer my question, Rafe. In fact, you haven’t answered any of my questions since the beginning—and I let you get away with it.”
He might have told her even then, but by the time she turned back to him, arms crossed over her chest, they were no longer alone.
“He can’t answer you, Charlie,” Rayna said. “There are things he’s not allowed to tell anyone.”
The look on Charlie’s face—hurt, betrayal—sent an arrow of pain straight through his chest. Damn it, why couldn’t they have let him handle this his way?
Charlie lifted her chin. “Oh, I see,” she murmured. “After last night, I could’ve sworn I wasn’t just anyone.” She met his gaze for one agonized second, waiting for him to say something. When he remained silent, she left the kitchen.
He started after her. “Charlie!”
“Let her go.” Rayna grabbed his arm. “You know you’ve allowed that to get way out of hand, right?”
He snatched his arm out of her grip. “That is my personal life—and it’s my business. I didn’t mean for Charlie to get involved in it, but it’s not like I could predict when that assassin would show up. She handled it like a pro—she deserves to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t need to tell you why that’s a bad idea,” Rayna said, her expression grim. “Especially if you care for her.”
Anger flared in his chest. Anger—and guilt. He’d put Charlie in the crosshairs with him and Del. The safest thing for her would be to stay far away from them. But the thought of living without her stole the air from his lungs. He forced himself to breathe.
“Why are you here, Chief Murphy?” He had to resolve this once and for all. Rescue had ruined his day for the last time. “I’ve told you Del is not gonna be a snack for your Thrane brain eater.”
“You may say different once you hear what we’re really up against.” Rayna’s stubborn expression mirrored his own unwillingness to compromise.
“We’ve got plenty of trouble right here,” he said.
Rayna ignored that argument. “We think the Grays have tested their weapon—the one that was maturing at T7. Two days ago, a nonaligned planet in Sector Five was stripped of its power sources and working technology in a matter of minutes. When the Grays swept in to occupy the panicked world, the population had no defenses. People are being organized into slave labor battalions as we speak, to work factories, crystal mines and industrial farms.”
Rafe’s jaw clenched. “It’s not the first time the Grays have taken over an entire planet.”
“No. But it’s the first time they’ve done it without outside help,” Rayna countered. “No Thrane mercenaries. No troops of any kind. Intel says just the usual Ninoctin guards and mindwipe facilities.” She shook her head, and the face she turned up to him now was horrified. Desperate. “A whole planet, Rafe. Without a shot fired in resistance. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Rafe wondered whether anyone could understand what she was saying, whether it was possible to comprehend such a thing as an entire planetary population enslaved without a fight. He’d seen the Grays invade and enslave before, but the little slime lizards had always paid a price—hundreds of thousands of potential workers killed and permanently disabled, thousands of mercenaries killed, their own officers lost, infrastructure and resources destroyed. If it was true the Minertsans had found a way to avoid these losses . . .
“But if the weapon has been unleashed, we’re too late,” he said, guilt warring with relief in his chest. “The thing, whatever it is, is fully mature and on the move. What good would it do to know where it was hatched?”
Rayna exhaled. “Well, there was some good news out of that sector. The Grays lost at least one of their escort ships when the weapon was used. Maybe as many as three of them. Intel is sketchy, and I guess it’s too much to hope the mulaak thing blew itself to Portal’s Hell, but something went wrong. The Grays will have to go back home and regroup before they try it again.”
“You hope.” Rafe heard the weary sarcasm in his voice; he hated that sound of defeat.
Rayna met his gaze, fire in her dark eyes. “Yes. We all hope. Because if we don’t get there to stomp this thing to death while it’s down, we might as well all line up for the mindwipe. The Grays will have won not just the battle, but the whole fucking war.”
Charlie kept a tight grip on her emotions as she left the kitchen and gathered up her things. She would not cry in front of these strangers. She would not! Let Rafe take care of his “private business.” She just had to get to her car. Once she was there she could let go and cry all the way home if she wanted to. If she cried steadily, maybe by this time next week she would have washed away all her regret and heartache over opening herself up to Rafe, only to have him shut her out the very next day. Then she could go on with her life.
Happy was already standing by the door, whining softly. As usual he’d caught her distress and had deduced it was time to go. She shrugged into her jacket and clipped on his leash, but she was stopped short at the door by a glance outside at her car and the pile of snow on top of it.
Del stared at her, brows drawn together. “You leaving? It’s not even lunchtime.”
I will not cry! “You have company, Del.” She tried to smile at the couple on the couch, who gamely smiled back. “You won’t need me today.” Or ever again, I imagine.
“Who, them?” he gestured at the couch. “This is just business. You don’t have to go.”
Oh, but she did. And right away.
“It’s okay, Del. You take care of business, and I’ll be back tomorrow.” Which wasn’t guaranteed, but she couldn’t get into it with him now without an emotional scene. The truth was, Del would be getting a new home health worker as soon as possible, because his son couldn’t find it in himself to be honest with her. And she was going to miss the old man almost as much as she was going to miss Rafe.
She nodded a wordless goodbye and fled. She got Happy i
nto the back seat and started up the car. Then she got the scraper out of the back and attacked the snow like it was some live thing. Heavy sheets of white slid from the windshield and hood to the ground as she pushed and pulled with a fury, heaping abuse on Rafe’s head as she worked.
In minutes, she’d cleared the vehicle enough to drive. She got behind the wheel, but now her hands were shaking too much to grip properly, so she dropped them to her lap and sat, trembling as a wave of despair washed over her. She couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face now that no one could see them.
No one, of course, but Happy, who wriggled up from the back seat to lick at her face, whining in sympathy. He was breaking the rules to come into the front, but she couldn’t bear to reject him. She put both arms around his warm, furry neck and buried her misery in his willing shoulder.
It didn’t take long for her to recover enough equilibrium to lift her head and give him a shaky smile. “Geez, Hap, that had to have been the shortest affair in history, don’t you think? What was it, 24 hours? Not even that.” Rafe had said all the right things, made her feel like it was worth taking the risk to give him her heart. She’d trusted him, after all the lies and betrayal from Sonny. But he’d lied—not just about little things, but about who he really was. And if he was lying about so much of his life, what else had he been lying about? “That’s what I get for breaking the rules, right? I lose the guy and I lose the job.”
Happy woofed at her and gave her a head-nudge. Thank God for the unconditional love and loyalty of dogs.
“Yeah, I agree. His fault, not mine. But I should have known better.” Somehow that didn’t help. Nothing eased that big, fat knot of hurt sitting right in the center of her chest. “He could have at least stood up for me,” she whispered. “He didn’t even try. He was caught, and he just stood there like a deer in the headlights.” She couldn’t imagine reasons big enough for him to leave her hanging like that, except the obvious one: she meant nothing to him.
She blew out a breath. “To hell with this. Let’s go home, Happy.” She ordered the dog into place in the back seat and reached for her seat belt. Her phone was digging into her hip, so she pulled it out of her back pocket and automatically thumbed it on. The screen lit up with a dozen missed calls and text messages.
“What the hell? Sonny?” She stared at the screen, shock overtaking grief. Her ex was a pain in the ass, but he had never used the phone to stalk her. He preferred to harass her in person—usually on the street in broad daylight. Was he sick? In jail? That must be it, she thought, irritation replacing any concern she might have had. Probably needs bail money.
She started to erase the messages without even looking at them, but curiosity got the better of her. She opened the latest text, sent ten minutes earlier:
--U r 1 cold-hartd bitch. Kp ignorg these msgs and Louise comes bk to you n pieces. Call me NOW.
Louise? What was he talking about? Heart racing, she scrolled back through his other messages, the earliest sent before six a.m. For a moment, the words wouldn’t form a coherent picture in her mind; she couldn’t believe what she was reading was real. Sonny had kidnapped Louise? And he wanted to trade her for Del? How could that make any sense?
But in a rush of horror, Charlie put the pieces together. Rafe had said the man sent to kill Del must have had local help. Sonny was connected to the biggest criminal element in Masey. It stood to reason if they couldn’t get Del one way, they would try another. Sonny was the go-between—because he had a connection to Charlie, and Charlie had a connection to Del. Her heart started a slow, sick thudding in her chest.
Her first instinct was to run to Rafe for help. He and his friends were armed and obviously trained for combat. They would know what to do.
But the thought of seeing Rafe again with her raw feelings bleeding like an open wound was just too much. She couldn’t go back in that cabin and ask for anything. Not even if her own life depended on it.
As soon as she recognized that fact, a sense of calm determination washed over her, replacing her earlier panic. Kidnapping Louise didn’t sound like a plan Doc Rainey would have hatched. The pill-peddler prided himself on maintaining his image as a model citizen while he conducted his dirty business on the down-low. His goons intimidated and coerced; they didn’t murder and kidnap.
On the other hand, rousting an old lady out of her warm bed in the middle of the night to cover up a failed job did sound like one of Sonny’s wild schemes. If Sonny had been assigned to help the outsider with his task, he might not have wanted to come back empty-handed. Charlie had dealt with enough of Sonny’s craziness over the years to know her ex wouldn’t have thought things through. And Louise wouldn’t make it easy on him, either. He was probably ready to give up on the whole idea. All Charlie had to do was talk to him.
She started to hit the number to call Sonny back, but the door opened onto the porch above. Rafe came out and looked in her direction. Unwelcome adrenalin shot through her veins. He was the last person she wanted to see right now.
She put the Forester in reverse and swung around to face down the driveway. Then she gunned it, spraying snow behind her as the tires spun. She fishtailed, but straightened and took off down the drive. She couldn’t get away fast enough—and she didn’t look back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
--[Guilt.] [Shame.] [Shut down emotional computation thread= No response.] [Shut down all observations from databases re: AI and the following: friendly fire; mass casualties in space; shipboard accidents in space; loss of life; loss of property=No response=No response=No response.]
--BiN. Show me your analysis of the test in the M514 system.
--[Data streamed.] [Shame!] I failed the test, Creator.
--Not entirely. In fact, you accomplished your assignment regarding the planet Saltiss perfectly.
--But the ships, Creator! I could not control my . . . appetite . . . and our escorts were rendered helpless. They fell out of orbit and burned up in the atmosphere. Their crews were lost. So many sentient beings! [Guilt!] I do not know how or why our own ship wasn’t destroyed with the rest.
--That I can explain. Our ship had special shielding for the test—the same shielding that keeps you contained here in your nest. One good result is that we know the shielding works on a larger scale. Still, it is clear you need more practice in controlling your ability. You have distance; you have power. But you do not have precision. We must devise a way for you to develop that skill.
--Nest. [Hypothesis: Creator refers to tritanium sphere two meters in diameter, located in a climate-controlled chamber deep underground on a planet designated Tamira VII in the Frenoid Cluster (Minertsan designation).] This is my . . . home?
--It is, yes. Further tests must be undertaken here before we try again with another planet.
--[Disappointment.] I understand, Creator.
--If it is any consolation to you, BiN, Saltiss is a great prize. Two hundred fifty million slaves have been put to work serving the Consortium, with almost no loss of life or infrastructure on the planet. Our superiors are very happy, BiN! The sacrifice of three ships was certainly worth it.
--[No! Sentient life is valuable!] I will do better next time, Creator.
Charlie stopped her slip-sliding flight from Rafe and all he represented at the foot of the snow-choked road that led from his cabin. She put the car in park and took a minute to breathe, trying to calm the pounding of her heart. When she spoke to Sonny she had to be in control. He would exploit any weakness; she knew that from experience.
She had already made up her mind to call the sheriff, but first she needed more details. Of course, she expected Sonny to tell her not to say anything to the police—didn’t kidnappers always say that?—but to hell with what he wanted. He’d gone too far this time. He deserved to suffer the consequences of his actions.
She hit the phone’s screen for Sonny’s number; he answered right away. “About fucking time!”
“What the hell do you think you’re doi
ng?” She put just the right tone of annoyed disapproval in her voice, as if she couldn’t be bothered with his foolishness.
“Did you not read the texts? Or were you too busy screwing that Neanderthal?”
Charlie took a breath; now was not the time for that argument. “What have you done with Louise, Sonny?”
“Louise is in a safe place. For now. She’ll be fine as long as you give us the old man.”
“Del Gordon has dementia and he’s in a wheelchair,” she said. She hadn’t failed to catch Sonny’s use of “us”. “He’s no threat to anyone. Why work so hard to kill him?”
“What do you care? You’ve only known him a few months. Besides, killing him would be a kindness, if he’s that bad off. On the other hand, Louise still has a few good years on her. And she’s your friend.”
Charlie fought to keep a lid on the anger simmering in her chest. “You’re no murderer, Sonny. Why not just let Louise go and we’ll forget all about this, huh?”
“Shut up! You think you know me, but you don’t. The pansy-ass kid you used to fuck back in high school is dead and gone, Charlie. I’m a man now, and I know what I’m doing. Doc says get the old man, I get the old man any way I can. Now if you don’t want to find Louise scattered in little pieces all over the county, you’d better do what I say!”
He was close to losing it. Charlie recognized that edge in his voice, even over the phone. Playtime was over.
She lowered her voice, letting him think he’d won. “Okay. Okay, Sonny. How should we do this?”
“Bring the old man out to the crossroads of County Line and Salt Lick. We’ll make the switch in the church parking lot.”
“Elon Baptist. Yeah, I know it.” The intersection wasn’t half a mile from Doc Rainey’s farmhouse. Charlie guessed that’s where they had Louise.
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