by Becky Black
“You have no corroborating evidence beyond their word,” Preston said, waving a dismissive hand at Kit and Gracie. Raine wanted to smack the hand down and twist it up behind the bastard’s back.
“I’m the captain, not the court. I don’t need corroboration. I only need to believe Taylor is dangerous.”
“We can deal with him under our procedures. I insist you release him.”
“No!” Kit jumped to his feet, moving slightly in front of Gracie. “He attacked her. If I hadn’t been around, he’d have done worse.”
“But you didn’t see him attack her?” Preston said.
“I heard her screaming for help. And I know for sure he attacked me.” He lifted his wrist to show the damaged tracker and the blossoming bruising.
“Mr. Miller is a fugitive,” Sullivan said, looking up from her Link with a triumphant expression. “Captain, you can’t hold one of our valuable workers on the word of a thief and your kitchen skivvy.”
You just made a mistake, lady, Raine thought. Perhaps not the reference to Kit being a thief, but calling Gracie a “kitchen skivvy” would do it. Dryden’s next words were in a tone cold enough to bring the room’s temperature down so low Raine wanted to shiver,
“The correct title is steward’s assistant. A title both of them hold.”
A bluff. Kit had the duties but not the title.
“And I’ll listen to any member of my crew and make my judgment about its veracity. My judgment here is that your man Taylor is a danger to the crew of this ship, and I’m within my rights to hold him in the brig until we reach a port where he can be dealt with by the authorities.”
“I’ll be applying to our head office for advice about this,” Sullivan said, scowling. “Miller has no standing on this ship. He can’t give evidence against Taylor.”
“We’ll see about that when we get to port. Any man, even a criminal himself, can give evidence in court.”
“Yeah, and I’ll do it.” Kit snarled the words, and Raine wanted to smile at the ferocity in him.
“We want him back,” Preston insisted. “You can’t hold him.”
“Try me, sir,” Dryden said. “Try me.”
“If you insist on this,” Sullivan said, “then while he’s here, you have the responsibility for feeding him, ensuring he has medical services, and has access to all the mandatory facilities laid down in the guidelines. You can’t claim any expenses incurred back from us.”
“I’ll gladly feed him,” Dryden shot back. “I’ll fatten him up nicely for his day in court.”
“With these witnesses,” Sullivan said, “the case is already over. Good day, Captain.”
“But—” Preston began. Sullivan shook her head and hurried him away.
Dryden sighed and turned to Raine, her expression saying she feared Sullivan would be proved right. “By the book, Mr. Raine. Don’t give them any reason to say we aren’t treating Taylor properly. Ms. Maddison, Mr. Miller,” she said, turning to Kit and Gracie. “I know this has been difficult, but I hope you’ll both stick to what you’ve said and will give evidence against Taylor when we get to Saira.”
“I will, ma’am,” Kit said.
“Me too.” Gracie stood and slipped her hand into Kit’s.
“Good. Mr. Miller, I think they are right about one thing. Your evidence will be compromised by the fact you have no standing on the ship.”
“Why should it matter? I know what happened. My being a stowaway—” He stopped when she held up her hand.
“That’s why I’m temporarily making you a member of the crew. I have some discretionary powers to take on new crew members during a voyage without head office approval.”
Raine stared. She was making him a crew member?
“Oh. I… Well, thank you, ma’am. Will it make any difference, do you think?”
“It shows I trust you and have confidence in you. That will mean something to the court.”
“Will we be paying him?” Raine asked.
“As Sullivan pointed out, without pay he has no standing, so we’ll have to put him on the books. But I may find I need to take some deductions from your wages, Mr. Miller.”
“Adding up to one hundred percent of the total?” Kit said with a wry smile.
“Be grateful it isn’t one hundred and ten percent.”
“But, Captain,” Gracie protested. “That’s not fair. You should have seen the way he tackled that creep. He was amazing.”
“Gracie,” Kit said quietly. “Hush. It’s fine. It’s a workaround.”
“Exactly, Mr. Miller. All right, I’m done here. I’ll have Mr. Miller’s new status confirmed at once. Ms. Maddison, have you heard a rumor that the senior officers have access to a hot tub aboard?”
“Um, I’ve heard it,” she said. “But I didn’t believe it.”
“You’re incorrect. Mr. Miller, would you care to join us? There’s nothing quite like it for easing bruises.”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“Come along, then, Grace. Girls only, it appears.” Gracie followed her, looking awed. At the door, Dryden stopped. “One thing, Mr. Raine. Please don’t forget to give Mr. Miller a new tracking device.”
Raine saw Kit wince and wanted to do the same. It felt like a negation of his new status.
“Do you have to give me a new tracker?” Kit asked as the door closed behind the women.
“Captain’s orders.” He opened a drawer to find one. “She’s just being cautious. If we do everything by the book, we’re in a stronger position.”
“It’s not like I can go anywhere,” Kit said, frowning. “Not until after I give evidence against Taylor.”
Raine froze, the new tracker in his hand. He hadn’t realized the implication of Kit’s assertion that he’d testify against Taylor. Kit had trapped himself here with his promise far more effectively than any tracking device.
“Come on, then, gimme my new bangle.” When he got no answer, Kit frowned. “You in there, Raine?”
“Dan. My name’s Dan.”
Kit froze, stuck dumb, a rare event indeed.
“Daniel,” Raine went on. “Though not many people call me that.” Not many people called him Dan either, frankly.
“Dan.” Kit spoke the word as slowly as one could say one syllable. As if tasting it, finding the shape of it. “Daniel.”
“I think the only one who calls me Daniel is my mother.”
“When she’s mad at you? My mother always called me Christopher when I was in trouble.”
“So did she ever call you Kit, then?”
“Funny guy.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Give me your arm, please.”
Kit winced but then conjured the cheeky smile up as he held out his arm. Raine took off the broken tracker. He couldn’t help himself gently touching the bruises. Wanted to kiss them, make them better.
“I suppose since I get paid, you’re going to take the cost of the broken ones out of my wages.”
“Good idea.” Raine closed and locked the new tracker, carefully avoiding the bruises. “But please try not to break this one. I only have one more.”
“Oh yes?” A speculative look came into Kit’s face—no doubt he was already making plans for breaking that one too.
“Yes. If you go through them both, I’ll be forced to tie a long rope around your waist.”
Kit chuckled at the dry tone. “Oh, Dan, my man, I never want to stray too far from you.”
He stepped closer, into Raine’s waiting arms, and straightened up so he was the one who had to dip his head slightly for the kiss. Warm lips and the smell of sweat with an edge of blood under it made Raine shiver with both the pleasure of this moment and the memory of long-ago moments, seeking comfort after the terror of combat.
“Can I come to your cabin later?” Kit asked after breaking the slow, deep kiss.
“You don’t need to ask anymore.”
He expected the cocky smile, but Kit only looked thoughtful for a second, then nodd
ed.
“Good, I’ll see you later. I should get cleaned up and get back to work.” He planted a swift kiss on Raine’s lips and turned away.
“Kit,” Raine said before he reached the door, making him look back. “I’m proud of you for the way you stood up for Gracie, here and in the container.”
“Um, thanks.” He blushed, and Raine smiled to think he’d managed to discombobulate Kit instead of the usual other way around. “She’s my friend, you know.”
“I don’t think many people have stood up for her before.”
“I know. But I will.” He stood tall again, jaw set. With a nod to say good-bye, he marched out of the room.
Raine felt slightly ashamed of his words. Sincere as they had been, they were also perfect for reinforcing Kit’s promise to give evidence against Taylor. The shame came from Raine being unsure if his motivation for saying them was based entirely on the interests of the Light of Dawn and its crew.
Chapter Eleven
“Why don’t you take off, Gracie? I can finish up here.”
Gracie looked up from sweeping the mess-deck floor.
“You sure?”
“Go.”
“Thanks, Kit.” She leaned the broom against the serving counter and took off her apron, tossed it in the laundry cart. “I’ll cover you tomorrow night, let you get off early.” She winked. “So you can get off early.”
“Gracie, I’m shocked and appalled.”
She laughed and waved him good-bye as she left. He liked to hear the laugh. He liked that she took the offer he’d made. A couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t have. But then the incident in the container happened. With some people, it would have left them wary and skittish. Not Gracie. Not the Gracie who’d spent several hours closeted with the captain and come out a different person in Kit’s eyes.
When he’d asked her what they’d talked about for so long, she’d shrugged and said, “Oh, you know. Girl stuff.”
“Girl stuff?” Kit had boggled. “With the captain?”
“She’s just a person, Kit. And she’s really nice when you get to know her.”
“Like a mom, eh?”
“Not like my mom.” The bitterness in her voice had shut Kit up.
Whatever Dryden had said it had changed Gracie. She was cooking something up, often lapsing into silence, lost in thought. She’d tell Kit eventually. He could wait.
He had enough to ponder anyway. Gracie wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Raine had too. Literally. He’d changed into Dan, though Kit had been calling him Raine for so long, he didn’t think he could switch. The sudden revelation had taken Kit off guard. Raine had already been baffling him just being Raine, being so hard to figure out. Now he’d changed again, and Kit was finding it hard to keep up—even though he liked it. Mostly he’d changed the way he acted toward Kit. No longer so on edge. The big fool had relaxed at last. Kit could relax too. Stop playing games so much. Just be himself.
Yeah, be himself in court. It had only occurred to him after he made his promise that giving evidence against Taylor meant he had to be around at the end of the voyage and beyond to do that. Once he was in the custody of the authorities off the ship, he’d have a much harder time escaping.
But he couldn’t change his mind. He had to stand up for Gracie. He had to keep his word to the captain. And it had impressed Raine enough to make him give up the name at last.
Strange how something good could come of a bad situation, he thought as he pulled a rack of clean mugs out of the dishwasher and started unloading them into the slotted tray ready for breakfast in the morning. Good things like Gracie’s new confidence. Kit himself becoming a crew member had to be counted as good. Working as a lowly kitchen hand on a cargo ship might not have been exactly the way he’d seen his career going, but he always tried to make the best he could of any situation.
Best of all was Raine finally starting to unbend. His thoughts always looped back around to Raine. Giving Kit his name, not freaking out about being seen sitting with Kit in the rec room or the gym. Kit respected his shyness about any more obviously intimate behavior in public. Some people weren’t into public displays of affection. Though he sometimes found it hard not to launch himself at Raine, especially in the gym. Good God, when the man got a sweat on pumping iron, Kit wanted to tackle him to the ground and jump on top of him there and then.
Calm yourself, boy, he thought, smiling. He glanced at the clock. Save it. Be jumping him soon enough. Meanwhile he carried the slotted tray full of mugs to the serving counter and locked the catches to hold it in place. Another smaller tray held only a dozen mugs, and he took that to sit beside the big coffee urns. The aroma of the strong dark brew Trish made for the nightshift teased his nose. He’d take himself and Raine a couple of mugs down when he finished here, help keep them up all night.
The door sliding open made him glance around, expecting to see a couple of the watch standers coming in to get first crack at the coffee, but instead he frowned to see a couple of men he didn’t know, wearing ore-plant overalls. One stayed by the door; the other came inside.
“Are you guys lost?” Kit asked. “This is a ship’s crew area. You’re not allowed up here.”
“You Miller?” the one who’d come in said, approaching Kit, who started to back toward the door into the galley, instinctively wary of them.
“Gotta be him,” the other one said. “Taylor said he’s a skinny pretty-boy, with long black hair.”
Damn. Friends of Taylor’s. Kit suspected they hadn’t come to convey his apologies. But he’d stood up to Taylor; he’d stand up to these two.
“Yes, I’m Miller. And you’re still not allowed up here.” Should he shout through to Trish in her office in the galley? What, yell for a woman to come help him? He didn’t think of himself as having an excessive amount of machismo, but that would certainly wound it.
“You’re a fucking stowaway, pal,” the one still advancing on him said. “So don’t you tell anyone where they can and can’t go on this tub.”
Kit’s back reached the serving counter, stopping him. Damn, miscalculated where the door was.
“What the hell do you want, anyway?”
“We want you to drop your charges against Taylor. You and your little girlfriend.” The thought of Gracie as his girlfriend made Kit smile slightly.
“Yeah, silly little cow should have kept her mouth shut,” the one by the door called. “Best offer she’s had for years, I’d bet.”
Kit stopped smiling. He wondered if he could lift one of the steam trays out of the counter and swing it. These bastards deserved a swift clip round the ear with a heavy metal object.
“Get out of here.”
“You don’t drop the charges and you’ll regret it, pal.”
“I’m not your pal. Get out.” He felt no temptation to give in to their demand, even though withdrawing his evidence would free him to plan his escape again. Raine would be disappointed in him if he wussed out. He’d seen Raine be disappointed. Like after Kit’s last escape attempt. He’d been disappointed with extreme prejudice, and Kit wouldn’t like to see it again.
He gasped suddenly and sprang aside as the man lunged at him. The guy hit the counter hard enough to dislodge the mug tray from its catches, and it crashed to the floor, making a racket to wake the dead. He had just made another grab at Kit, the man from the door coming to join the fray, when Trish Ellis barged out of the galley door.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded.
The two ore workers stopped. The sight of an officer gave them pause, and they backed off.
“Sorry, ma’am, just came to talk with Mr. Miller here. Little appeal to his better nature.”
Trish’s eyebrows shot up, and she glanced at the smashed mugs on the floor. “You’re trespassing. Get out before I call security to arrest you.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
The door closed behind them, and Kit sagged against the counter, glad he hadn’t had to fight anyone this time. Trish
turned to him.
“Are you okay, Kit? Did they hurt you?”
“No, boss. Thanks, I’m okay.” There went his machismo, then. He smiled sheepishly. “I’d better sweep that lot up.”
“Leave it. Sit down, drink some coffee. I’m going to call security and have them pick those two up.”
Kit almost protested—Raine’s little brig would soon be full at this rate. But he kept it buttoned, seeing the determined look on her face. They’d messed with her crew, and she wasn’t standing for it.
Her crew. I’m crew. He took a mug and poured himself coffee, then sat, realizing his knees were shaking. After a moment, Trish came back out of her office where she’d gone to make the call.
“Security’s looking for them.” She grabbed the broom and started sweeping up the broken mugs. “Dammit, I’m going to insist they have the cost of these taken out of their wages.”
Raine showed up fifteen minutes later.
“You catch them?” Kit asked, filling the serving tray with more mugs.
“No, sorry. They managed to get back to the plant before we could. But we’ve got pictures of them, and you and Ms. Ellis can describe them. We’ll make a complaint to the plant.” He sighed and sat down, taking off his gloves. Kit brought him over a mug of coffee. “Thanks. I doubt they’ll do much about it this time, but if it happens again…”
“I’d prefer to avoid that myself.” Kit smiled wryly. “I won’t always have a woman around to rescue me.”
Raine looked at him oddly but didn’t ask what he meant. “They were looking for you specifically?”
“Yeah. Friends of Taylor’s.” He sat on the bench seat, his back to the table, and drew his legs up so he sat with the soles of his feet together, hands around his ankles. “Warned me not to give evidence against him.”
“Ah. But you…”
“Of course I still am. I have to back Gracie up, don’t I?”
“Good.” Raine smiled and sipped his coffee. “Good.”
“How’d they get up here anyway? Aren’t the doors locked?”
“They find a way. I sometimes wish we could be entirely independent of the plant, physically I mean. No doors at all. But it’s not practical.”
