Gripping his suit, a rage of wasteful tears streaming onto his chest.
“For fuck’s sake! Then why didn’t you fight for us? Why’d you never tell me? Why’d you act like you didn’t give a shit about us? You’re so fuck’n businesslike about everything! Just left me her info didn’t say anything and offered me breakfast? I felt like such fuck’n idiot for loving you! Why the fuck did you do that!”
His eye flickered open, focused. With one hand, he reached up and touched the raven netsuke swinging on its cord about her neck.
“Mariwen.”
The whisper shocked through her; a paralyzing bolt that froze her in place absolutely with the horrifying thought he’d been listening all along.
His hand dropped. His eyes slumped closed. Over the lap of wavelets against the raft, she heard him sigh. “Tell Mariwen we’re supposed to meet Autumn to pick up the painting this weekend.”
The murmured name cracked her paralysis. Autumn Autumn Laïs the artist who’d created that painting. Twelve years ago.
She shook him. Shook him again, less gently. “Rafe? Rafe!”
His eyes moved beneath the closed lids. “Don’t be late” a clotted mumble. His body relaxed.
She peeled back one eyelid, afraid of seeing what she might have glimpsed when he opened them.
Yes, it was there. The strong light showed it: a thin ring of white around the iris. The infallible sign of a malfunctioning immunocyte implant entering the final stages of collapse.
Reaching across his unresponsive body, she dug the flare gun out of its pocket. Setting the transmitter to the widest band possible, she cocked it. With a last look around at the open ocean that had become her prison, she pointed the muzzle skyward . . .
And fired.
Acknowledgements
As we complete this, our fifth book in the series, we find ourselves owing an incalculable debt to the many people who supported us, offered advice and encouragement, gave feedback, and kicked our butts when we needed. Without their efforts, this book would not be in your hands today, and they all have our deepest gratitude.
In this regard, several people deserve special mention. Alex, Ramona, and Cynthia were unstinting in giving us their time and provided key insights that saved us from many grievous errors. We cannot thank them enough.
And then there is SJ. The utmost power of language is not sufficient to express how grateful we are for her extraordinary support and unfailing generosity. She has always been there for us, through thick and thin, supplying whatever help we needed, often before we knew we needed it. SJ, you are simply the best.
Finally, and most of all, a huge “Thank you!” to our readers, who have accompanied us on this journey, enduring our ups and downs along the way. We appreciate you choosing to spend time with us, when you could be doing other things, and we will continually strive to be worthy of it. There are so many chapters left to write.
About The Authors
Jordan Leah Hunter is a writer, artist, singer and musician living in northern California. Descended from Irish High-Kings, Vikings and Native Americans, she brings all the passion of her turbulent ancestry to her work. A true devotee of Nature, she can be found outdoors at all hours and in all weathers, and when she suffers to have a roof over her head, it is usually to sit by her fire and read or play one of several instruments.
Owen R. O’Neil is a physicist, a writer, an amateur historian and the descendant of a long line of engineers. After three years working for the US Navy as a missile-systems engineer, he became a member of the intelligence community and spent the rest of his career there. One of the last generation of Cold Warriors, he worked on topics as diverse as satellites, IR semiconductors, telecoms and C4ISR. He is an expert on technology projection and threat assessment, and did groundbreaking work on IW/IO before it was cool.
These days he writes, exercises a passion for photography he inherited from his father, and indulges in his two principal vices: cooking unhealthy food and ferreting out exceptional but underappreciated wines. He lives on nine rural acres in northern California where, when not engaged in the foregoing, he listens to his tenants (bullfrogs and coyotes) and watches over his infant vineyard.
More Work by Us
THE LORALYNN KENNAKRIS SERIES:
The Alecto Initiative (Loralynn Kennakris #1)
The Morning Which Breaks (Loralynn Kennakris #2)
Asylum (Loralynn Kennakris #3)
Apollyon’s Gambit (Loralynn Kennakris #4)
The Loralynn Kennakris Series Boxed Set: (Loralynn Kennakris Books 1-3 )
UPCOMING
Orion’s Price (Loralynn Kennakris #6) — Coming by mid-2018
The Tears of Artemis (Loralynn Kennakris #7)
Also by Jordan Leah Hunter
The Erl King’s Children
Connect with Us
Website: http://www.loralynnkennakris.com
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The Bonds of Orion Page 28