Loving Them (Wings of Artemis Book 5)

by Rebecca Royce

  He cupped my face in his hands and stroked his thumb down the side. “P, what’s mine is yours. What’s ours is yours. You won’t have to ask. You’ll have your own tablet, and you’ll just use it. I don’t need anything but you. Take all of it. It’s meaningless. Everything was until you. Please, don’t be sad. It’s our wedding day.”

  Sometimes he could be so tuned in to me it was amazing that he was ever able to turn it off and go cold the way he did. “Can I ask you something awful?”

  “Sure.” He didn’t even hesitate. I’d told him it was bad, and he hadn’t blinked. So Quinn.

  “Did you feel anything when you blew up the Rochambeau? When you knew how to do that without having to stop and figure it out? Exactly where to hit them to make the ship explode?”

  He didn’t get upset. Not one sign that the awful thing I’d just questioned him about irked him in the slightest. “I was glad that I got to end the vessel that would have destroyed us. It was between you and safety. It had to go. Anything that gets in the way of you being okay will be destroyed. One way or another. That’s how I can love you. That’s how I can keep you alive and well in this universe.”

  Maybe I should be horrified, but I absolutely wasn’t. The Rochambeau would have destroyed us. Tommy had said it. Quinn said it. I believed them. And his love for me meant he didn’t think twice. I kissed him, and beneath my mouth he smiled.

  Quinn left me at the salon with instructions to the owner to bill his tablet. He’d coded the number into the machine. Then with another kiss, he’d been on his way.

  Once a week, when I’d lived on Mars Station, my mother had taken my sister and me here. We’d been made over to look presentable and pretty. No one working there looked recognizable, and for a second I wondered if my mother had actually taken all the stylists with her when she’d left. The men who’d run the place had loved us and the amount of credit we spent there. Maybe the shop had changed owners since everyone was new to me.

  Few places had actual salons. Although it was a stereotype, it had been my experience that more women frequented the place than men. Mars Station had more women than most other locations in the universe. Women felt comfortable on Mars Station mostly because of Melissa Alexander.

  She ran a tight station.

  Women were safe here.

  As the man, whose name was Glen, washed my hair I let my mind wander. The sound of low music played overhead. It wasn’t a song I had ever heard before, but just hearing music itself seemed a miracle.

  I’d forgotten how much I loved to listen to music.

  There really were few things in life more luxurious than letting someone else wash my hair. I closed my eyes. Chatter filled the small space. Two of the stylists had recently come back from Venus Colony with a new drug they liked. As long as things weren’t deemed illegal by the station because they killed people and they didn’t cause violence, most substances weren’t prohibited for those over eighteen years old. They were sharing their out of body experiences with each other.

  Two mothers talked while their daughters had their nails painted blue. This was all so familiar. I let the feeling of it drift through me. I was going to get married later, and I was doing it on the space station that had once been my home.

  How bizarre could life be.

  The man washing my hair jolted, and I looked up at him, my easygoing feeling fleeing at once. “What is it?”

  He pointed at the window, and I jerked upright. Ten feet away on the same level as me, in the promenade, were two men all decked out in red with bombs strapped to their fronts and backs. I stopped breathing for a second before I darted out of my chair.

  “How is this possible?”

  My hair stylist trembled, and other than the two mothers grabbing their daughters, no one moved. Two potential terrorists were walking down the promenade in the middle of the day with bombs. This wasn’t normal nor was it okay.

  “They’re wearing the red.” One of the moms choked out.

  I ran past her toward the salon’s tablet on the wall. “Does that mean something? I’ve been living in the Sisterhood.”

  I hated bombs. I hated everything about them. I’d seen enough things blow up to last the rest of my life. My hands shook on the tablet as I tried to dial central ops. 331. That had always been the code for emergencies. Nothing would have changed in that respect.

  “It’s Sandler. He has people willing to die for him. How did they get onto the Station?” The woman covered her daughter’s ears when she spoke, as though she could shut out the horror that was happening. Maybe she could. I hoped it worked.

  “This is Central Ops.” A woman’s voice came over. “What is your emergency?”

  “Two men. Walking down the promenade. Outside the hair salon. Wearing red. Bombs strapped to them. They’re going to stop any second and blow something up.”

  I hung up the connection and looked around. “We need to get to the back of the salon.”

  With the bombers being so blatant, so unhidden, they’d actually bought us time. We could maybe get out of the way. “Grab furniture, anything heavy. Move it to the back. We’re getting behind it.”

  I hoped I was right. I’d survived the Sisterhood exploding by sheer luck. I might not be so lucky this time. The group of us had no sooner managed to get behind the chairs that were hooked up to the hair dryers than everything around us was destroyed.

  My ears rang. I’d heard louder noises, unfortunately. The night at the Sisterhood had been worse in terms of sound, but knowing that did nothing to ease the pain. I closed my eyes. The station should survive this blast. Or at least I thought I remembered that from safety instructions as a child. If they managed to punch a hole in the side of the structure, invisible walls would pop up to keep us from flying out into space and keep the oxygen inside the station. Unless they’d blown the oxygen units in the corridor.

  I didn’t know. All I could do was hold on. There were sirens. There were crashes. There was too much going on.

  The mother next to me screamed at the top of her lungs, holding onto her daughter. I knew one thing for sure. Unless they were dead, the McQueens would find me. I just hoped I was still alive when they did.

  Black smoke started to fill the promenade. That wasn’t a good sign. I grabbed hold of my stylist, who had glass in his hair, as I suspected I did as well—at least in my hair if not other places—and tugged on him.

  “We have to get out.”

  Fire on the station could be devastating if the fire suppressors weren’t working. Somehow, without meaning to, I’d become the leader. The group followed what I said. This would probably concern me later. For now, all I could think about was survival. We were all getting out.

  “Stay low.” The bombers had been walking left. Maybe there were more of them. We’d go right.

  There were crowds of people in the promenade, screaming, bloody. Hurt. I was so lucky. We’d been inside, and we’d had a chance.

  “Your arm.” The stylist grabbed my shoulder. “Your arm.”

  What about my arm? I looked down. The skin on the top was shredded. How had that happened? Why hadn’t I noticed? When had I…

  I shook my head. I was in trouble. I almost wished he hadn’t told me. Now that I knew, I could feel it. Oh by the universe, my body burned.

  “Ah,” I cried out. “Okay. Okay. Um. Okay.” I had to stop the bleeding. Didn’t I? I—

  Strong arms grabbed me, yanking me from the others. I looked up. It was Keith. He was there. “Paloma.” His voice was steady despite the chaos. “Okay. I’ve got you. I found you.” He spoke into his small tablet. “I have her. She’s hurt. But I have her.” He set it down. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

  “The others?” I tried to turn to see the rest of my fellow salon survivors, but they were being hustled away by medical assistants. The promenade was being flooded by security.

  Keith picked me up in his arms. “You’re losing blood. The med floor is going to be overwhelmed. I’m taki
ng you to the shuttle. The only reason I got here so fast was because I was there. Things are chaotic. The others are trying to get here as fast as they can. Makes more sense to go to the shuttle.”

  I could hear his words, but they didn’t make a lot of sense. I just knew I was going back into the medical machine.

  I think part of me must have known I was dreaming. But only for a second. Then the dream did what they do, overtook me and I was lost to any sense that I was in the med machine and that Mars Station might be blowing up.

  Keith sat across from me at our table. Sunlight beamed into the house, illuminating his blond hair until it looked like a golden glow around him. He was so beautiful, although he’d find that description un-manly. His tie was over his shoulder so he wouldn’t get food on it when he ate. It was always just he and I in the mornings. He had to teach at eight, which meant leaving by six to avoid the worst of the shuttle traffic.

  I’d just gotten the baby back down to sleep. He’d sleep until seven, and then be up for the day. Maybe a few more weeks before he’d finally sleep soundly through the night.

  Keith set down his tablet to regard me. “This is rough on you. I’m going to help more.”

  I waved my hand in the air. “You’re doing a ton already. Last night was long. I’ll get a nap. Don’t worry, love.”

  “I worry. It’s what I do.” He leaned over the table to kiss me. “Quinn is due back today. That’ll help.”

  Quinn had been at the capital advising on matters above my pay grade. I didn’t want to know about war. I didn’t want to know what the government did. That was for my father-in-law to deal with. Garrison Sandler ran the universe, and I was happy to let him do it.

  “Tommy, too.” My oldest husband was the top general in the fleet. I would be proud if I wasn’t worried all the time. And Clay worked into the late hours of the night, and he’d be up around nine to go at it again.

  These were the rhythms of our lives, and I was proud to be a Sandler. Proud to be leading the universe out of the darkness and into the light.

  “Reports are coming in that we finally took down Earth.” Keith grinned at me. “I’m so glad we finally suppressed those unworthy rebels.”

  Visions of monsters travelled through my vision. Screaming people. Fire. Guns. Death. It took me a minute to realize those monsters were us. My husbands, me, our life… we were death. We were doom. We were the end of things.

  I gasped, crying out, before a cooling sensation travelled through my body. I heard voices, distant, muffled. “Nightmares. See that bar? It shows the spike. Press here; it will settle the dreams. There we go, nice and evened out. Poor thing. That had to be a bad one.”

  Then there was blackness.

  I slept. And no dreams followed me down.

  When I woke up again, it was to hear another voice. Ari’s face stared down at me. “I’m taking her out a little early. If what you’re saying is true and she has such an adverse reaction to pain medication, then it could be the final dosages, the ones meant to keep the patient out of discomfort for the hours after waking, are making her worse instead of better. Go wait in the hall. She needs to rest. You’re going to stir her up. Yes, all four of you.”

  The top of the med machine opened, and I was gently lifted out. “Hey there, Paloma. Sorry to experiment on you. I just want to see if we can make this easier, your recovery. And I’ll get a scar minimizer on that arm in a second, sweet pea.”

  Ari and the meaningless nicknames. If I could keep my eyes open, I’d roll them. “Don’t fix the scar.”

  “What?” I was laid down on a bed. “You want the scar?”

  “I think I want to wear my scar on the outside this time, not just the inside.”

  Silence met my remark, and then finally Ari spoke again. “Fair enough.”

  “Paloma?” I opened my eyes. Time must have passed because when Ari had set me down on the bed, we’d been alone in the room and now I had four sets of blue eyes, all the same shade, staring down at me. “There are her deep brown depths.” Tommy, who must have been the one speaking, sighed. “We’ve been waiting to see you open those lids.”

  I tried to sit up. “Did I sleep too long?”

  “No.” Clay put a hand behind me to help me rise. “We’re just impatient. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” I rubbed my face. Everything still felt… off. “Like I’m not quite awake yet.”

  “That’s because you shouldn’t be.” Ari’s annoyed shout travelled through the room, and Quinn winced. “I have to go back and forth between here and the med bay. I told you to leave her alone.”

  Tommy shook his head. “She was so still. I just wanted to see that she was okay.”

  Ari shoved Clay away and helped me lay back down. “Don’t make me ban you from your ship.”

  “Like you could.” Keith laughed.

  “Give me the chance, Sandler. Try me. See what happens.”

  At least this time when I fell back asleep I had a smile on my face.

  “So, am I okay?” I looked at Ari, who read readings from the machine and the computer that was analyzing my blood work and vital signs.

  He raised his gaze to meet my own. “Yes. You’re going to be fine. Really lucky that you weren’t closer to that blast. We lost a lot of people.” Ari shook his head. “We always knew it was a matter of time here. The counsel wouldn’t approve Melissa’s request for more security. I don’t think any of us could have imagined two bombers just walking straight down the promenade.”

  “All dressed in red.” I’d never forget the sight.

  Ari put a gentle hand on my back. “My Uncle Garrison liked to make things dramatic. His youth league… we all had to wear red all the time. It was meant to frighten you just like it did.”

  I hopped off the table. “But you didn’t stay there. You left Sandler territory before even Tommy did. That’s right?”

  “It was never my style, hot stuff.” He winked at me. “Had a different future in mind. It didn’t include, in any capacity, marching around and taking orders. Even from family. Besides, my parents were never his biggest fans. My mother was your fiancés’ mother’s sister. When their mother died, my family was just as happy to step back and not hang around all the time. If I hadn’t been close with those four, my parents would have probably taken me away as a kid so that we never saw them.”

  “I was thinking about the Sandler family, about Garrison’s brothers, and I thought that—”

  Keith bounded through the door. “All right, enough. I’m not sitting out there anymore. I’m just not.”

  Tommy poked his head in. “Get your ass back out here and sit down. Ari said he needed to check her out in private. That means we sit down and wait.”

  “This from the guy who woke her up early,” Keith shot back. “Come on. Enough. Is she fine? Because when I got to her she was clearly not fine. So I need to know. Okay? Is she going to be?”

  I placed my hand on his arm. “Doctor says I’m fine.”

  His shoulders visibly slumped. “Thank you, Ari.”

  “Yep. You know, Keith, you’ve never been to a session with me. Quinn has. Tommy has. Even Clay sometimes stops by. Maybe you need a little anxiety reduction, cousin.”

  Keith rolled his eyes. “Not going to happen. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Right, then you’ll all get back to your life. Been a long twenty-four hours. I am going to go find me a honey, a drink, and a bed for the night. Maybe not in that order.”

  My mouth fell open. “A honey?”

  He winked again. “What can I say? What few ladies are in this galaxy love me, and I love them right back. Let me know if you have any trouble, Paloma. But I think you’re good to go. Your guys might need a sedative. I can take care of that for you, if you want.”

  He brushed past Tommy on his way out, and soon the room was filled with my fiancés. Keith pointed at me. “I never want to find you like that again.”

  I raised my hand in defeat. “I’ll try not to encounter
any more of your father’s crazies on suicide missions again.”

  Keith shook his head, turning to Tommy. “Where did that even come from? Quinn doesn’t have people blowing themselves up on that plan of his. Dad never had people doing that. What the hell?”

  Tommy shook his head. “It’s not the Cartel I led. End of story. I don’t know. I’m as horrified as all of you.”

  Quinn walked around to the other side of me and shoved a tablet in my hand. “This is yours. You’re never to go anywhere without it. Not being able to reach you was a special kind of pain. That’s all I’ll say because enough with this. You’re okay.”

  “That’ll teach me to go to a salon. I should have known something would happen the second I tried to do something flippant. Should have just married you guys in my pajamas.”

  My hand went to my hair. It had been soaking wet when the bomb went off. Now I could feel pieces of glass, wood, dirt, and who knew what else in there. I needed a shower. Badly.

  Clay leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Someday, you’ll get to spend as much time pampering as you want.”

  “My days of pampering are long over.” I jumped off the table. “Want to get married? Let’s get married right now. Who’s up for it? I’m gross. Things are a mess. But I think that’s going to be our life. So, let’s go for it. Who wants to?”

  Tommy raised his eyebrows. “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s get married before one of us has one of those. Who’s going to marry us?”

  Tommy looked at Clay. “Think we could get the judge back over here? He was supposed to be here yesterday. But with everything he was moved to a secure location. Or we could—”

  Ari popped his head in the room. “Sorry, I’m eavesdropping. Or maybe I just forgot my tablet over there on the counter. I’m certified. I can marry you. I got certified last year to marry two sweeties who were both seeing me and then both seeing each other and then decided to—”

  I held up my hand. “Less said the better. Okay? Yes, marry us. Thanks.”