by H. E. Trent
Court was trained in close-quarter combat and knew ways to hurt a man much larger than her, but she didn’t expect the others to have her experience or her reflexes. She’d have to keep a close eye on Fastida’s mother, especially. She may have had fire in her eyes, but she didn’t appear to have much strength to put behind it.
The rush came so quickly that the guards barely had time to raise their guns. So much hitting, pushing, pounding against the clear wall. Guards and prisoners alike.
The two holdout women screamed and huddled together on their bunk, and Fastida’s mother spat some Jekhani remark that silenced them, but that didn’t suppress their drive to cower.
Cracks snaked up the plastic from the impact of the fights, and Court couldn’t help but to hope that wasn’t the same material being used in space-faring vehicles.
“Get ready,” Brenna said. “I see Trigrian.”
“Where?” Court tried to scan the collection of moving body parts and weapons, but couldn’t discern what belonged to whom.
“There. By the door.”
“Ah.” Of course her impulsive boy had gotten right in front. She gave Fastida a nudge with her elbow. “See? Not a coward.”
“I’d hate you for it if I had the energy.”
The door burst inward and the women grabbed onto each other and ran.
“We’re going to form a buffer for you between here and the mess hall,” Trig shouted. “Just keep running. Don’t turn back. We’ll catch up.”
“Understood,” Court shouted, already pushing the women ahead.
“Court?”
In spite of what he’d just fucking said, she turned back. “Yeah?”
“Love you.”
“Now you tell me?” Her grin lasted for just a few seconds—until Trig punched an encroaching guard hard in the neck.
Totally a Court move.
The guard fell to his knees, sputtering and Trig turned to pull another guard off a Jekhan prisoner.
“Court, let’s go!” Brenna shouted.
Court eased herself back into the buffer and accepted the shiv one of the men offered. “Let’s go.”
They made their way all the way to the front processing corral when the thick metal partition foiled their passage.
“Fuck. It’s supposed to be open this time of day.” Trig eased his way around Court and made his way to the front to give the key panel a stare.
The noise level in the enclosure suddenly cranked up a hundred percent as guns went off and a few insistent guards stormed into the room. Court readied her shiv and put herself in front of Fastida’s mother, but before she could strike out preemptively, bullets—real fucking bullets—rained overhead.
“Get down!” Owen shouted.
They all hit the floor, not knowing where the bullets were coming from, only that they didn’t seem to be directed at them.
The guards scurried back into the hall, firing off a couple more shots in the group’s general direction before they evacuated.
Footsteps pounded overhead, and Court peeked up at the catwalk.
If it weren’t for the gray-brown pageboy haircut swishing around the woman’s head as she ran toward the stairs, Court wouldn’t have known the person was a woman.
She hit the ground running and pointed to a side passage with her gun. “Go that way!”
They all stayed very still. Court’s gaze fixed on the woman’s identification badge clipped at her belt. The blue hue indicated she worked for government, and if the shield behind her photograph was any indication, she worked within the police department.
Who the hell is she?
“Please,” she pleaded and scanned the group, muttering quietly to herself. “Where are you? Where are you?” Her gaze raked over Court and Owen and she squeezed herself into the group, looking back at the hallway the guards had retreated into.
“Please, get them up and go before they regroup or call in the District Guard. There’s only so much I can do for you from behind a computer terminal. The rest is up to you.”
“What?”
The woman pressed a wad of paper into Court’s hand and curled her fingers over it. “The side door is open as is the gate on that side. There’s no easy way to access that side of the building without running all the way around, and I’m the only one in here right now who has the key. Get out and do your thinking later.”
With Court being so close, she could read the woman’s worker badge. DEVIN, LILLIAN.
Devin? Just like Reg.
That couldn’t have been a coincidence.
“Please,” she said, and cupped Court’s chin. “Take them and go. Let me handle the rest.”
“Why?”
“Court, don’t ask why.” Trig grabbed her up by the waist and hauled her up over his shoulder. He made a run for the door, and moments later other footsteps thundered behind them. Court looked around Trig’s torso to see that their little band of rebels—not more guards—made the noise.
Trig put her down when the reached the outside. Night had fallen.
“Fuck.”
Bright headlights pushed them back into the building. The driver tapped out an urgent rhythm on his horn and pulled the paddy wagon around to the side. Big enough for them all to squeeze in, but the question was did they want to?
Allan let down the window on the passenger side and tipped his head toward the driver on the other side of Herris.
Salehi?
“I’ll explain later,” Allan said. “Pile in. He’s got to be back before the dust settles. If you leave one of the doors slightly open, you won’t get locked in.”
“Well, come on folks.” Owen yanked them open, with Court right on his heels.
All the way at the front was Erin who sat beside a twitching man curled into fetal position on the bench beside her. To Erin’s left, a tired-looking Amy, whose make-up had worn completely off to reveal flushed, peach skin.
She let out a relieved gasp at the sight of them and clutched her chest.
Erin waved them all in. “Come on. Looks like we’ll have a tight squeeze. Don’t be afraid to sit on laps if you have to.”
They all piled in, and no sooner had Erin banged on the wall for Salehi did an explosion shake the ground and send part of the prison’s structure crumbling.
“That’ll keep them busy for a little while,” Salehi said. He put the pedal to the metal and made the tires squeal.
Flames from the prison fire licked at the night sky and sirens pealed in the distance.
Then there was another explosion, though Courtney couldn’t tell precisely from where.
“Escobar and his bombs…” Salehi said to Allan.
“Still up to his old tricks, huh?”
“He’s behaved very well for all these years, all things considered.”
“Missed you assholes.”
“You too, man.”
Salehi got the vehicle up to maximum speed, which wasn’t high given the van’s intended use, but still fast enough to make the people in the back clutch the rails.
They stayed like that—tense and quiet—until they’d passed the city limits.
“Well, that was fun,” Trig said into the silence.
After a moment, the laughter cracked open. Turned into tears in some cases. Brenna. Fastida.
Fastida was on the floor next to Court’s right leg. From Trig’s lap, Court caressed her hair and rubbed her cheek. “Breathe, honey.”
“Murk’ll be happy to see us home,” Trig said after all the nervousness in the van had given way and conversations and introductions started.
“He’s probably losing his mind.”
“Knowing him, he definitely is.” Trig chafed her thigh, and the motion tugged her attention to the blood on his hand. She followed the trail of it up his sleeve to the origin—his shoulder. She yanked his collar aside and saw the wound.
“Trigrian!”
He smiled, and put his head against the wagon door. “I’m all right. Knife wound. I think the hole stopp
ed bleeding.” He yawned, and heavy lids fell over those violet eyes.
She ground her heel against his shin. “You stay awake.”
He straightened up and nodded rhythmlessly. “Bossy, just like Murk.”
“You like it.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Good thing. She didn’t think just one kick to his shin was going to do the trick.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Murk sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing Kerry’s back as she nursed and making sure her mother didn’t roll over onto her. Court was dead to the world. She’d fallen into bed about four hours after the crew returned from Buinet. She’d fought admirably against her exhaustion and stayed awake long enough to ensure all the refugees were taken in and that Doc stitched Trig up.
Then, she slept.
Dosed with powerful painkillers, Trig had fallen in right beside her. He hadn’t even bothered kicking off his shoes, which Murk had rectified for him. His impulsive, brave Trig. Murk should have known he’d had the guts, and that all Trig had needed was an outlet to show it.
Erin leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms and looked at the two slumbering rebels. “Does she still have that note balled up in her hand?”
Murk nodded. “I think perhaps she’s trying to ferret out the lies through osmosis.”
“Well, the first rule of McGarry skepticism is to trust nothing that seems too convenient.”
“It’s hardly convenient, though. She’s been through a lot of shit in the past year. We all have.”
“Don’t go getting all logical, Murki.”
“What does Owen think?” He’d hardly had a chance to talk to the man. Between wrestling Esteben into a safe room—the former lady’s cottage—and coordinating with Doc to try to get a dose of Marscadrel for him—if the drug would even do any good at that point—things had been so disordered. So confused. Esteben was practically unrecognizable. So gaunt, and his hair shorn off. Murk guessed he’d been more than imprisoned, perhaps institutionalized, and Brenna seemed to agree. He’d scratched out his own tracking chip, leaving a scar over his right ear that would probably never go away. All he could do was grow out his hair to cover it.
Erin settled into the chair near the doorway and entwined her fingers. “Owen thinks it sounds like something Granddad would do—make some really well-placed allies and not let on to us what he was up to.” She tipped her chin toward Court’s hand. “Read the note to me again.”
Murk shifted Kerry to Court’s other breast and gently unballed his woman’s fist. He smoothed the paper against his thigh and moved into the light of the hallway.
I’m expunging information about you and your siblings as quickly as it’s inputted. Eventually, people will rely completely on paper records, but for the time being, there’s no central file on you, Owen, or Erin.
Your grandfather is alive, as are many others who left Earth with him. I have not informed him that you’re on the planet. He’s too far out of range at the moment, but as soon as he’s back in the sector, I’ll debrief him, assuming he hasn’t gone into stasis again.
Please do not broadcast your whereabouts. Only use secured com channels if you must relay messages to Earth.
I will ensure that any charges filed against you are, for administrative purposes, dropped. On our end, the cases will appear to have been closed solely because you’d left the area and there are no trans-jurisdictional procedures to bring you back. Be fortunate that there are no bounty hunters employed in official capacities here yet. There is some legislation on the table to install that system, so it is important for me to close your files before that goes into effect.
I know you have no reason to trust me. I don’t expect you to and I’m sorry for what my son did to you. If you’d known the right questions to ask, you would learned that we haven’t been on cordial terms for ten years. I worry that before all is said and done, I may have a hand in harming him. If that is the will of the gods, so be it.
I am impressed in the amount of restraint your friend used in subduing him. Next time, though, you might consider making tighter knots. He managed to squirm his way out of wherever you left him and was shouting at Commander Festus not long after you were dragged into the prison.
Yes, I know about Festus.
I know about all of them. They don’t know about me, beyond the fact I’m Commissioner.
The bureaucrat in lipstick.
I’m sick and tired of liars. The only reason I’ve stayed on this planet for this long is because I worry that if I leave, things will get worse, and I can’t have that on my conscience. Lord willing, I have a lot of years left ahead of me to mull over my sins.
Please take care, and stay off the radar if you can. If you’re like your grandfather, you have a crusading tendency that’ll get you in trouble you don’t need to be in. Let someone else do the work, okay?
Respectfully,
Lillian Devin
He folded the paper and set it on the nightstand.
Erin closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Is she right? Are you McGarrys all crusaders?”
“That is, unfortunately, the case. Perhaps if you pile a few more kids onto that bed, though, you can keep Court out of the fray.”
“We’ll get started on making them as soon as they wake up.”
“Great.” Erin rocked back on her heels and let her lips sputter. “I guess I’ll go see if your brother has stopped flinging himself against the wall.”
“I’ll go.”
“No.” She put up her hands and stood. “I’ll go. I’m qualified to deal with trauma, after all.” She started toward the door, but then stopped at the threshold. “The physical kind, at least.”
She didn’t need to explain further. He knew.
“Thank you,” he said anyway.
“Don’t worry. I should make myself useful around here somehow, seeing as how I’ve got a niece to watch grow up and can’t go anywhere.” She snapped her fingers. “And that reminds me—I’ve got coffee plant seeds in my suitcase. Of all the things I could pack in a hurry when leaving Buinet, I made sure to grab those.”
“And chocolate, I bet.”
“Yes, but even better, I’ve also got cocoa tree seeds.”
“If anyone can make them grow, it’ll be Trig.”
“I hope so. I’m not the kind of person who should be allowed to go long without either of my C-vices.”
“Just like your sister.”
“In so many ways.” She disappeared into the hallway.
In so many ways. “Mmm.”
Perhaps that’s exactly what Esteben needed. Murk would worry about playing matchmaker later, though. His most pressing task was to get his lovers well.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
The following week, Trig had barely crossed the threshold into the main house when Murk took his hand and pulled him around the seating area. He cringed at the slight pull of the wound in his shoulder. “What’s the hurry?”
“Kerry has been fed and is asleep with her aunt.”
“And?”
Murk led him around the corner and down the hall toward the bedroom. “So I get to help.”
“Help what?”
“You and I both know you’re smarter than that, pretty boy.”
Murk closed him into the bedroom, and Trig started patting the wall to set off the light sensors. They were obviously malfunctioning again.
“You don’t need the lights. Your eyes will adjust.”
Trig straightened the towel atop his damp hair and scanned the dark room. At the foot of the bed was a Courtney-sized object. He moved toward her.
She put her arms around his waist and pressed her lips to his belly. “How are you feeling?”
“Well enough to work tomorrow, I suppose. Getting restless.”
“Me, too.”
He didn’t know what she meant. She’d been out in the fields with Kerry strapped to her front almost since the day they’d returned from Buinet.
&n
bsp; She kissed down farther until his towel barred her passage. Then, with a teasing upward glance and a smile, she slipped her fingers beneath the loose knot. His covering fell to the floor. She encircled his flaccid cock with her fingers and tugged.
He hissed.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked.
“For you to tease me? I’d rather not be teased, if you don’t mind. I don’t think I can take it.”
“Not going to tease you. Not even going to play with you tonight, though I really want to. We’re just going to make love.”
“We are?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Murk eased behind him and pressed his face into the crook of Trig’s neck. He was already nude. Already hard.
“You’re trying to kill me,” Trig whispered.
“I could think of less exerting ways to do that,” Murk said.
“Both of you?”
“Unless you’d like me to leave. That’s your prerogative, and I won’t be offended if you’d prefer to have her to yourself.”
“We share.”
Murk chuckled. “Yes, we all share. I’ll return in a moment.” He gave Trig’s naked ass a pat and stepped into the hallway.
Light poured into the room so Trig could see Court’s beautiful face and her troublemaking expression. “I still don’t know if I like that look.”
“You’ll come to, I think. I told you we’re not playing tonight, but I am thinking of all the delicious things I could do to you—all the things you’d let me do to you.”
He swallowed down the lump in his dry throat. “Such as?”
“Nothing we can do with a baby nearby. You’d be too loud. We’d have to plan specially for it.”
His imagination couldn’t even begin to know what she was thinking. Apparently, the Terran concept of kink was vastly different from the one on Jekh.