by H. E. Trent
She hadn’t encountered many Jekhans during her trip as of yet, but she’d quickly observed that they didn’t tend to suppress their expressiveness. What their faces said was what their brains were thinking.
“We find ourselves in a bit of a quandary,” the man said.
Autumn simply nodded in response and gave Cree a look of warning so the girl would hold her tongue as well.
“The last thing we want is to cause some dreadful sort of intergalactic incident because we’ve transported a minor from her home without listing her on our manifest,” he said. “I’m not going to bother asking how you got her on-board.”
Autumn kept holding her tongue. Providing information that wasn’t expressly requested was a hallmark of unsuccessful people, and she intended to come out of the situation victorious…in spite of the fact she hadn’t anticipated being in the situation at all.
“That doesn’t matter now,” he said. “What does matter is that we have to make every effort to send her back.”
“But you can’t!” Cree shouted, face red with spirit. “I came all this way because I didn’t want to be there.”
“Be that as it may…” The man took a deep breath and let it out. “There are rules we have to abide by to keep conflicts at a minimum. The burden is on us now, not you.”
“I get that, but look,” Cree said, holding her hands together prayerfully. “I’ll be eighteen in just a few weeks, right? Can you just pretend you never saw me? Or say that I got off the ship before your immigrations crew finished doing their manual count and you couldn’t catch up to us. Like, this doesn’t have to be an incident.”
Autumn dragged her tongue across her dry lips and pinched the bridge of her nose. Cree was good at incidents. For the longest time, Autumn had thought the young woman was suffering from some sort of amplified Youngest Child/Daddy’s Third Marriage Syndrome, but having actually witnessed her family unit at work, she’d quickly changed her mind.
When Dexter Ray had been married to Autumn’s mother, he’d been almost reasonable. But he and his third wife were oil and water. Not at all complementary, but they looked good on paper.
Daddy always liked for his wives to look good on paper. When they didn’t anymore, he moved on. At the time Autumn had registered for the matching system, he’d been on wife number four and had a newborn son. His first boy.
And hopefully his last child.
She rolled her eyes and then cut her gaze over to the official who stood in the doorway tapping his fingertips against his biceps. He studied Cree in the assessing way that all Cree’s teachers did when they couldn’t decide if she was a handful on purpose or just a troubled young woman in need of guidance.
“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t send you to Holding to be assigned a return date,” he said.
Cringing, Cree wrung her hands. “I could, but no one reason is better than another. You only discovered I was here because of a fluke. Autumn had more luggage at the end of the trip than she had at the beginning. I was stupid to try to attach myself to her room, but that’s how desperate I was. If you assign me a return date, does that mean I’m free to go as long as I come back?”
He stared at her for a few tense second before nodding slowly. “That is what it means.”
“And the onus would be on me to return?”
“It would. However, if your plan is to disappear onto the planet, do keep in mind that you’re already considered an illegal alien. If you show up in any system on this planet, law enforcement has justifiable means to arrest you.”
“That’s not good.”
“No. It’s not.” He took several steps into the room, piquing Autumn’s curiosity and making her sit up straighter in response. From the inside pocket of his vest, he removed a small, square pamphlet and set it atop the room folio on the desk. “Depart upon hearing the trio of chimes. Our computer system is nearly rebooted.”
He left, closing the stateroom door behind him.
Autumn peered down at the pamphlet. It was printed in several languages, some Terran, some impossible to make a guess about. She quickly found the English section and started reading. “Paths to Legal Residency Privilege,” she murmured.
Cree tucked her long blond hair behind her ears and leaned behind Autumn to read. Immediately, she tapped an item halfway down the list. The child scanned faster than any other human being Autumn had ever met. “Number Eight.”
Autumn slapped her sister’s hand with the pamphlet. “Not Number Eight.”
“But that’s what you did.”
“Yes, and I’m a grown woman.”
“You’re nine years older than me. In the scheme of things, the number is insignificant. Think about it. Daddy is thirty years older than Sucker Number Four.”
Autumn turned around and raised a scolding eyebrow at Cree, not that she thought it would do any good. “Is that really who you’d like to use as your example?”
Cree grimaced again. “Okay, maybe not. I mean, think about it. I hang out for a few weeks and try to stay under the radar. When I’m eighteen, the first thing I’ll do is put my name in the matching system. That’ll buy me some time. I doubt anyone here is so desperate that they’d willingly select an eighteen-year-old.”
“You’re so smart and yet so naive.”
“How so?”
“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” Autumn shook her head and read the other options. None seemed to be all that good. She could ask her father and ex-step mother to sign over legal guardianship of Cree and that would make her subsequent residence on the planet legal, but she didn’t want her father doing her any favors. Once he found out Autumn was on Jekh, he’d try to edge himself in on her business, and she needed to keep him as far away from her business as possible. She was on Jekh to be a success on her own terms, not with the shadow of his influence hovering over her.
Every dollar she made would be because of her hard work, not because of an accident of birth.
On Earth, she couldn’t get away from him. Whatever success she gained would always be tainted.
The only other possible option was for Cree to voluntarily remain in jail until her deportation date and then make an appeal to a three-judge panel about her need for asylum.
But Cree wasn’t a liar. Even at her wildest moments she never resorted to outright lying. She didn’t need asylum so much as to just be with the one person she knew without a doubt loved her.
And to think, Autumn had hated that squirmy blond wretch when she’d been born. The circumstances occurring between Wife Number One and Wife Number Two had been so contentious that it had taken Autumn five years to even want to be in the same room with her half-sister. But a five-year-old Cree had turned out to be equal parts pitiful and charming.
Equal parts wild and sad.
No parts spoiled—hopefully. All parts heartbreakingly needy.
Someone needed to pay attention to her. Why not Autumn?
Autumn let out a resounding breath and smoothed her hand over her hair. Her bun was too tight. She was getting a headache. “We’ve got three weeks to figure something out.”
The chimes sounded and Autumn’s gut lurched.
She reached for her tote bag, found her lipstick in the divider pocket, and put on her war paint. “First impressions,” she murmured.
Cree scooped her hot pink duffel bag by the handles and walked to the door. “Are you really going to marry that guy?”
“I don’t have a choice. I have to marry him to stay.”
But she didn’t have to stay married to him. That was what she was counting on and he probably would appreciate the opt-out opportunity once he got to know her, too. Her track record wasn’t the greatest. Men thought she was cold, and maybe she was. She’d learned early on to guard herself against men who were more interested in her bottom line than in what she felt from the bottom of her heart. Over time, she’d made cynicism her religion.
Connecting was hard. Trusting was hard. She hadn’t had the best
role models.
Cree opened the heavy stateroom door and got out of the way of the baggage carrier. There wasn’t much left in the room. They’d put out most of it the night before to be ready for the attendants to move into the depot when they landed.
They stepped into the crowded hallway, and Autumn tightened her fingers around her tote’s straps to brace herself. Her section of the ship had been filled mostly with Terran travelers, but there were others on-board. She was fairly certain she’d inadvertently offended a woman—at least, she thought the person was a woman—from an alien race by complimenting the sea foam color of her hair. Autumn was probably making gaffes left and right, and it’d be just her luck she’d spark one of those intergalactic incidents.
There didn’t seem to be anyone but humans in sight, except for the Jekhan stewards, who all nodded in greeting as they passed.
“They’re all so nice,” Cree said.
“That’s true. They are.” Autumn hoped the man waiting for her in the depot was even a fraction as nice. She was sick of nasty people.
CHAPTER FOUR
Luke figured out which woman was Autumn only through the process of elimination. She was damn near the last person off the ship. A young blonde strolled at her side, probably a friend she’d made during the long trip.
He stood and rubbed his sweaty palms against the front of his pants.
Well. Here we go.
Duke, seated in a chair two seats down and with his feet up on the railing, scoffed.
“Don’t say a damn thing,” Luke warned, patting his pockets for his gate approach authorization. She probably had some bags or something she needed help with.
“I’m going to say a lot of things.”
“Save your breath, because I don’t want to hear any of them. And don’t you need to go find Herris?”
“I have plenty of time.”
Luke rolled his eyes and pulled the credentials from his shirt pocket. He flashed them at the depot official waiting by the gate, and the man let him through.
Luke forced breath through his pressed lips and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was too late for cold feet, and he always followed through with the shit he started. That woman was depending on him to help her acclimate to life on Jekh. That woman was depending on him to provide her with guidance and affection to the best of his ability. He may have only been able to give one, but he’d do his damnedest to get to the point where he could give the other. He just needed some time.
“Autumn?” He put his hand out to shake hers, but drew it back, wondering if a hug would be more appropriate, or if he should kiss both her cheeks in the way Europeans did.
Fortunately, after a long, wide-eyed stare and a silent parting of her lips, she put her hand out, too. She swallowed and then put a tight smile on her face. “Do I not resemble my picture?”
“No doubt that you do, but my brother had a few experiences with online dating where the pictures didn’t always match the packages.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and let it go.
“Ah.” She cleared her throat and shifted her bag to her other shoulder, dark eyes flitting to the young woman beside her, and then back to Luke.
Of course, Luke looked at the other lady. She was smiling at him as though she was a waitress waiting for him to give her his food order or something, and he didn’t even have a menu.
“Uh. Luke Cipriani,” he said, extending his hand. Networking couldn’t hurt. Even if he never saw the lady again, he’d remember her name and maybe she had a skill someone he knew might need.
“So you go by Luke and not Lucas,” she said cheerily.
“People tend to only call me Lucas when I’m in trouble.” He smirked. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
She rocked back on her heels. “Dunno. Are you?”
Damn.
She was younger than he’d thought from a distance. She had the kind of peaches and cream complexion that made every freckle stand out in stark contrast. Her paleness made the woman beside her seem dark in comparison. Autumn was a few shades darker than Luke when he had a summer tan. Natural, as far as he could tell, which was odd because the two women had the same exact kink beneath the bridges of their noses.
He narrowed his eyes and looked from one woman to the other. Same eyes, too, except Autumn’s were dark—brown, he could now see—and the blonde’s were pale gray.
“I’m starting to wonder if I really am in trouble,” he murmured.
“Uh-huh,” the blonde said.
Autumn sighed.
“Crud. I didn’t think the staff would say anything,” the blonde said with a comical huff.
“No one said anything,” Luke said. “You got something to say?”
“They didn’t?” The blonde put on a big, toothy smile and opened her arms wide for a hug. “Well, then. I’m Cree Ray.”
“Ray?” He didn’t move, but that didn’t stop her from attacking his neck and pulling him into a hug that could only be described as “assertive.”
“Yep!”
As she rocked him side to side, he looked to Autumn who seemed to be concentrating very hard on taking deep breaths.
When she finally met his gaze, she said, “This is my sister Cree. I know you didn’t expect her, but she won’t get in your way.”
“You eighteen, Cree?” he asked, extricating himself from her octopus-like grip. She could have gone either way—a precocious sixteen- or seventeen-year-old or a youngish-looking eighteen, nineteen, or twenty. Odds were good that she was jailbait, though.
Looking over Luke’s shoulder, Cree put her hand over her heart and gasped. “Is that Alex Hauge?”
Luke rolled his eyes and then dragged his hand over them. “Of course you’d know who he is.”
“I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. He’s like, so famous.”
Luke hadn’t heard of Alex until Ais, but Luke tended to mind his own business unless he needed to be in someone else’s for work. Not once during his career with the FBI had the Norwegian royal family been a matter of interest to him.
Duke looked their way just then, arched a brow in that frustratingly insincere way he always did and cocked his chin in a “What, me?” fashion.
Bastard.
Luke turned his back to him and gestured to Autumn’s bag. “Why don’t you let me carry that for you? Looks heavy.”
“My bag?” Her brow furrowed as she peered down at the indicated item. “Oh. No, that’s not necessary, but thank you. It may look like luggage, but for the past three weeks, it’s been my purse.”
“And never try to separate a woman from her purse, huh?”
Her lips did something that almost approximated a smile.
Oh boy.
Either the lady didn’t have a sense of humor or she took herself far too seriously. He hoped neither was the case. She’d never be able to get along with his family, much less any of the McGarrys, if she couldn’t handle a bit of playful ribbing. Jokes were the love language around the farm. Sometimes, telling someone their ugly shirt resembled the last garbage pile one of the dogs had dragged across the kitchen was the only way a tactless guy was able to communicate, “I see you today. How are ya?”
Cree’s eyes went wide and round and she put her hand over her heart. “Do you think we could meet him? Oh, my God! My friends back at home would lose their minds if they found out. And if I could take a picture, too? Ugh, I’d be the hands-down winner of the Master of Everything prize.”
Jesus.
She was definitely a minor. Luke would have bet money.
Luke locked gazes with Autumn, who wasn’t quite managing to suppress the grinding of her teeth.
She handed him her baggage tickets, let out a breath, and then leaned in to whisper something to Cree.
Cree crinkled her nose, pouted, and said, “Aw, but why?”
No response from her sister.
“The hell am I getting myself into?” Luke rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Okay, just so I’m understanding things
the right way. Cree is with you?”
“Yes,” Autumn said with no inflection whatsoever. It was a take-it-or-leave-it tone, and Luke had never responded well to ultimatums. Maybe Autumn caught a hint of that in his expression, because she cleared her throat, dragged her tongue across her pink lips, and attempted another smile. “I…apologize for circumstances changing at the last minute,” she said. “But for now, where I go, she must go.”
“I see.” A careful answer. Suspicious as shit. He’d figure out why as soon as he was in front of a computer that wasn’t the size of a postage stamp.
He waved a porter over and handed the young man Autumn’s slip. “I’m parked in 17. Anything I can do to help?”
“Oh, no sir, Mr. Cipriani. Just keep the door open and we’ll port everything right in.”
Luke chuckled and passed a hand through his messy hair. He was tempted to buzz it all off again, but the ladies on the farm kept yelling at him whenever he suggested he would. The Jekhan style for men was longer, and apparently, the ladies had come to prefer it. “Do I want to know how you know my name?”
The young man grinned broadly. “You brought my sister back from the station.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, sir. With the Merridons.”
“Ah. How is she?”
“Better. She’s starting to leave the house more now. She has to get used to having freedom again.”
That confession made Luke’s heart hurt. People shouldn’t have been afraid to be seen out and about on their own planet, and that included the women. The Terrans should have been the ones who were afraid to be seen. They were the ones who’d made the mess.
“I’m sure the girls would like to hear from her,” Luke told him. “Maybe she could visit them in Little Gitano.”
“I know she would like that, and seeing familiar faces would be good for her.”
“Here.” Luke held up his wrist. “Bump my COM? You can buzz me later.”
“I will!” The young man tucked his tablet computer under his arm, rolled up the sleeve of his uniform tunic to expose his COM device then tapped the button to initiate a contact card exchange before swiping his COM past Luke’s.