by Celeste Raye
“You should not do that. You know you can’t.” Her heart was heavy. Everything was wrong, and what was most wrong was the undeniable desire to tell him to just pull away from that planet, to take her with him wherever it was that he was going. She swallowed hard. “You could get captured.”
It was true. They had had plenty of time to get to know each other over the journey and he’d had no trouble admitting that he was an outlaw and a wanted man, not that he had needed to admit that fact to her.
“I won’t. I’m far cleverer than they are.”
That reason alone kept her silent. She had fallen for him and hard but how much of that was due simply to his bad-man aura?
He was a bad man.
He was a criminal and a thief, and she suspected that he had killed a lot of beings. So she could add killer to that list of things that made it impossible for her to stay with him.
The largest reason for her not being able to ask him to keep her with him lay below, on Newport.
Jack. The man she had pledged her heart and soul to and who was, right now, probably frantic with worry and fear over what had happened to her.
She sighed out, “Nobody can outsmart the Federation forever. They always win.”
God. How had she let that slide from her lips? Like most people, she was sick of the Federation and its boot-heel on her neck, but that was the bargain that had been made for peace, and she had always known peace on her planet, which made her very lucky, and she knew it.
Blade said, “There may be a day when one may not have to outsmart the Federation.”
Terror seized her. Her body went rigid. Her muscles locked into place and her mouth parted so words could leave them. “Do not say such things! That is treason and treason is punishable by death!”
He strolled closer. Her pulse picked up, and blood ran through her veins, making her core clench and go wet with desire for him. She took a step back, a feeble attempt to ward off the lust that resided within her own body, a lust she could not step away from.
Blade said nothing else to her as they finally hit atmosphere and then settled to earth. The hovercraft was there, and they got in it, still not speaking. Tara’s heart hurt.
She was so torn. Blade was an amazing man, and she wanted him, wanted him badly, but she was duty bound to Jack—and she had to see him again. Had to be with him even if her heart would always wonder what might have been between her and Blade.
Tara stared at the streets of downtown Newport City with dazed eyes. It felt like forever since she had been there and everything looked different and changed. Nothing had changed really. There was her favorite little café with its mock-tea and oxygen whiffs. There was her favorite building, the one she wanted to someday own a loft in, even though that was far beyond her means.
Everything was the same. Except her. She had left there as a woman who had never traveled or seen anything outside the city, and she was coming back as a woman who had committed an act of murder, who had been somehow kidnapped, and who had seen a great deal of space before being deposited back here upon her homeland.
She was also a woman who cheated on her fiancé with her rescuer.
She was an adulteress!
That last thought unsettled her. Her eyes slid over to Blade. She had thought, honestly she had thought, that perhaps Jack was dead. He had not answered the com-cast calls at all, and it had been that oddly vital physical attraction she felt for Blade coupled with her true belief that Jack must be dead that had sent her into his bed.
Only Jack was not dead.
She had managed to reach his employment site, and they had informed her in no uncertain terms that he was indeed alive, although not in the office that day. The person she had spoken to had been quite confused when she had asked had he been at work. She had hung up before they could ask any questions that might force her to admit the embarrassing truth of what had happened on the pleasure planet and during that ill-fated trip that the two of them had taken.
Blade was wrong about Jack. Blade had said that perhaps Jack had sold her. Jack would never have done that! She had honestly believed that the only reason he was not answering his com-calls was because he must be dead. On the other side of that, he had not answered those calls.
Why not?
He had to have known she was missing! Had he not considered that perhaps the com-cast call might be from her or had he been so busy with work and so out of sorts that he had simply not realized that she was calling?
Blade said, “Listen, I’m not going to just leave here until I know that you are safe.”
She stared at him. He was an outlaw, a wanted man. His papers were as false as his smile. That smile that had melted her heart, and her panties. Dammit! Why had she believed that Jack was dead? Why had she gone to bed with Blade even if she had thought Jack was dead? That she could fall into bed so easily with someone else, even, and especially, while thinking that Jack must be dead, confused her.
She spoke as brightly as possible even though her heart felt as flat as a griddle cake. “I will be fine. You do not need to wait for me. He is here, and he will make sure that I am okay from here on out.”
Blade slid the hovercraft neatly to a curb several buildings down from the one in which Jack’s father lived. “I will just wait right here.”
She stared at him, not able to figure out exactly what it was that he thought he was going to accomplish here. Jack would never have sold her. Blade had probably told her that just so she would go to bed with him! The rotten jerk!
More confusion hit. Blade was a wanted man. Just being on the surface of Newport was dangerous for him. He was running a huge risk by bringing her all the way home, and he was taking an even greater risk by setting down on the surface and then escorting her all the way to her house.
Why?
Why would he do that and risk so much? He didn’t really even know her, and it was obvious that he didn’t really want to get himself caught and killed by the Federation, which considered him a traitor and a criminal.
Her fingers fumbled with the latch for the door and swung upward. Blade had parked a mere inch and a half off the ground, and she found it readily enough, but once her feet were there on the familiar sidewalk, her legs felt like they were about to give way and would not support her.
She spoke in a trembling voice, “I am all right. Please go. You risked way too much bringing me here. I would not have you risk anything more.”
Blade said, in a wholly implacable tone, “I will wait.”
Irritated now and more confused than ever, she shut the hovercraft door and started toward the house. The small building that she and Jack shared was down the driveway and through the gate. The gate’s workings felt unfamiliar to her fingers even though she had unlatched that very gate at least a hundred times before.
Her fingers didn’t seem to want to work, and dread and joy battled within her stomach and heart. How was she going to face him after what she had done?
She would never tell him.
It would cause a rift that was unfair. It was not her fault that she had been kidnapped any more than it was Jack’s fault that she had been kidnapped. Whatever had happened during that kidnapping had happened. They would put it behind them and never speak of it again.
Her feet took her up the sloping driveway behind the gate and then across the small path that led to the little building. The lights were off in the building, but on in the main house, she could see the lights shining past the drawn blinds. Her legs wobbled again, and she lifted a hand to knock at the door of the building. She stopped with her hand halfway to the door and with her heart pounding so fast that she could hear its rhythm within her ears.
Since when did she knock on the door of the home in which she lived?
Home?
Suddenly everything felt both surreal and far too clear. Every little bit of that building came flying at her. Every detail was outlined in a sharp manner that made her unable to look away. It wasn’t a well-constru
cted building, and it was tiny and miserable. The windows were narrow and small in the air inside was always stuffy. She had only one single shelf for her meager belongings. She had had more things at one time but moving in with Jack and into that building meant giving away or selling most of the things that she had acquired while living in the large bedroom of her childhood home.
The building needed a good coat of lime-rock paint, and there was a crack along its foundation snaking upward toward the door. She knew that when it got colder, the draft that came through there would be bitter.
What on earth is wrong with me? Why am I looking at the things that I love the most as if they are no longer good enough for me? Shaking her head in consternation and to clear it, she reached for the doorknob to turn it, only to find it locked. She stepped back, her eyes fastened on the doorknob. Her pulse picked up speed and raced. She swallowed hard and lifted her hand once more to knock. That time her knuckles came down on the door with a solid rap that made her jerk and startle.
The door to the building did not open. She stood there staring at it, confused and frightened.
All of the things that Blade had said came up again, burning into her brain—which felt feverish.
“Tara?”
Her heart leaped into her throat. Her head turned toward the right, and she saw him standing there near the back door of the main house. He came toward her, his voice creaking and breaking as he said, “Tara? Is it really you?”
She stared at him, suddenly possessed by an urge to flee as fast as she could. He looked just the same as he always did. He was of ordinary height and ordinary weight. His face was so plain that if she had seen it in a crowd and didn’t know it, she would not even have remarked upon it. His hair, a light brown and very stick-straight thing, was already thinning away from his high forehead. There was another thinning spot in the back of his skull as well, a tiny circle that she knew would widen eventually but had loved anyway.
His brown eyes held shock. He staggered backward, one hand going up to the door frame. His voice broke a bit as he said, “Tara! What are you doing here? I mean… What… Where did you go?”
Something about his words unsettled her. Her feet shuffled on the stones of the walkway. Her hands came up and her arms crossed across her chest. A sense of defensiveness filled her. “I don’t know exactly. I woke up in a hellhole, a literal hellhole. Then this man came and rescued me and brought me home. I don’t know where it was, only that it was awful.”
Jack’s eyes darted over her shoulder toward the empty expanse of the yard. She knew every inch of that yard. There was a single tree standing at the back eastern corner, its branches currently denuded by the fall weather. The fence was a little saggy and a little crooked, and there were exactly forty-seven steps between their small abode and the larger one shared by his parents. Yet somehow it felt like a place she had never been before.
He said, “I can’t believe it! How… I was so worried about you! You say a man rescued you? Is he here?”
I don’t know, but I hope not. That thought darted through her mind, and she immediately clamped down on it in case her face betrayed her. Something was wrong; she could sense it. Jack stepped back, holding the door open. His hands jerked, and his eyes kept running up and down her face and figure. He reached for her, and when his hands landed on her upper arms, they felt clammy and sweaty. She flinched back a little but stayed steady.
Jack fumbled keys out of his pocket and reached for a hasp on the door of the building. She stared at it, disquiet sliding against her numbed brain and body.
Why had he locked the building?
It was never locked!
He reached inside and turned on the lights then his hand drew her inside. His fingers felt too hard, too determined and she wanted to tear herself out of his grip, try to get back out the door but she could not seem to do so.
Jack said, “Tara, you should lie down. You’ve had a trying time.”
The question came before she had time to think over speaking the words. “You came right back. If I went missing, if you were so worried about me, why not try to find me? Why not stay there until you did find me?”
He sighed, and one hand ran through his flat brown hair. “I did look for you. I tried to stay, but it is so expensive there. They charge for air, for pity’s sake! Air!”
“I know. I was scared we wouldn’t have enough credits to pay for all the things they charged for. That’s why I didn’t use the cleaning chamber alone; you joined me so we could save the extra credit.” God. They had. They had both squeezed into that tiny chamber and tried to cleanse themselves in there.
Jack stepped backward, his face—that plain and ordinary face she had thought so sweet and dear and wonderful—crinkled into hard lines. “Tara, you have obviously been through far too much, and your mind has snapped in response. You can’t…you can’t believe that I would ever do these things!”
“You did do them.” He had. She knew it now. “You insisted I close my eyes before the food came so I could be surprised. I remember it all now. We got there, and I was worried because everything incurred credits, and you said that we had to be so careful because we could enjoy the place cheaply if we just tried to have a wonderful vacation despite our not having many credits between us, but then you ordered that very expensive dinner. You did, and I didn’t understand why. It was weird, and it should have been my hint that something was wrong, very wrong.”
Jack said, “You are not yourself, and who can blame you? You have had quite the ordeal. Listen, it’s me. Of course I was worried about you. I love you. You are my fiancée.”
Her next words were brittle with fury and the certainty that had clawed its way into her and would not let go. “You sold me.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. His feet shuffled again, and his hands came up in the air. They fluttered like birds released from a cage but had no idea of how to fly then dropped to his sides. He shook his head. “You’re wrong. I would never do something like that.”
Her mouth was soured by rage and understanding. “You did. You sold me. How could you do that to me? I didn’t want to believe it; I truly didn’t. I wanted to believe that it was a mistake and that you not answering when I called was somehow… But you didn’t answer.”
Jack’s face contorted with rage. “I don’t know what it is you are accusing me of exactly but I assure you I had no part in whatever happened to you. For all I knew you ran off! In fact, I was pretty sure that was exactly what you had done! I saw how you were looking at the rich men there and when you went missing, I did report it! I did, but deep down I figured you had decided you just did not want me anymore and made off with some male who could give you a fancy life!”
Her tone was even despite everything. “How can you not understand what I am accusing you of? I stated it quite clearly. And you know what? I don’t think I am the first woman you have done this to. Where is your former fiancée Jack? The one who just walked off and left Newport City behind her without a single word? Did she get a one-way trip to a pleasure planet too? You sorry woman-selling piece of garbage!”
He rushed her. It was so unlike him, he was so meek and so mild and so unabashedly tender that his running toward her with his fists raised took her by surprise and kept her rooted in place. She realized that he was about to strike her moments before his fists fell toward her face and body.
Those balled up fists fell but never hit her. His arm was twisted up and backwards. Jack keened out a thin cry of pain but before he could scream for help, he was on the floor, face down with Blade atop him and seated on his back. A knife pressed to Jack’s neck and Tara pedaled backward, one hand still raised to try to protect herself from a blow that had been halted, and by Blade.
Blade, who just kept rescuing her.
Blade spoke in a voice both low and deadly. “What happened to the former fiancée? Tell her and tell her now.”
Jack let out a small, weak cry. The knife pressed closer into his neck, so close that th
in drops of blood ran down that shining length and Tara’s hands flew to her mouth. She wanted to stop this, but part of her understood that there was no stopping it. That whatever was about to happen was going to happen no matter what she said.
Blade spoke again, “Open your mouth and tell her the truth, man. Do it now. Name names. Give me all the details.”
Jack began to sob, but there was rage rather than sorrow or shame in those sounds. He hissed out, “She’s worthless! Just like the rest! Nobody will even miss her. Her parents passed away months ago, and she’s a boring little record-keeper. She’s a low-credit earner with nobody to recommend her. She should be grateful I gave her the life I gave her before I decided to use her for my own ends!”
Maybe he was just saying those things because of the knife pressed to his throat. Tara opened her mouth to say those things but before she could, Blade said, “I know your face. I have seen you before. Tell her all of it. All of it, and I mean all of it.”
She found her voice. “He doesn’t have to. I see it all now. We never told anyone we were together. He said it was because he was in a higher position than me and that might be frowned upon. We only went out late at night when things were cheaper, and when very few people were around who might recall we were there. He set this up, didn’t he? He set me up to fall in love with him and to give him the credits I earned, and then he sold me.”
Jack writhed and kicked. Blade said, “Oh no you don’t.” He looked at Tara and said, “When was the last time you saw his parents?”
She blinked because the question was so odd. Her eyes went to the windows, and she stared at them blankly. “We don’t disturb his parents. They… They don’t like to be disturbed. We must be very quiet at all times. We must never go into the house.”
Blade hoisted Jack to his feet. He said, “Follow me.”
Tara followed him as he toted the struggling Jack out of the building that she had called home and to the back door of the abode in which his parents lived. To her horror, Blade drew his foot back and kicked open the back door with a loud crash and bang. A small sound escaped her mouth as the only protest that she could form.
