Rose had come over for a cup of tea first thing. Some ranting had been done. It couldn’t be whining when you projected your voice so well. Turned out Louise could project pretty damn well when she put her mind to it. Rose’s eyebrows had climbed higher and higher. It had felt kind of nice to have a girlfriend to confide in once again. She’d missed it.
In went the spade again, with great vigor and little skill. She’d pull a muscle in her arm at this rate.
Asshole, asshole husband.
She had sent him a com saying as much. Its succinctness had pleased her no end. He had not deigned to reply.
Normally the gardens soothed her—all the rich, fertile smells and the cool, damp air. Nothing could calm her today. She had tucked herself away in a corner of the overgrown jungle to spare the others her shitty mood. Not all displayed Rose’s patience or quick wit.
They stayed away in droves, wise people. Or they had.
Footsteps approached from behind, noisily thrashing through the undergrowth she was currently using as camouflage. Her khaki pants and
blah
beige T-shirt blended quite well with the surroundings.
“Ouch.” A man crouched beside her, sizing up the bruise on her face. He came closer than necessary, crossing one of those invisible social boundaries. It set off all sorts of alarms inside her. “How’d that happen?”
“Sorry, do I know you?” She knew she didn’t. The deliberate look she dealt him held more than a touch of “get lost”.
The man smiled broadly. He looked handsome enough—short blond hair and about her own age. He was pretty, and cocky with it. She’d seen the type before. Con had been of the same ilk. Arrogance didn’t turn her on as much as it used to.
“No, sorry,” he said. “I’m Josh Thoms. I’m from Security. Came down to alert you to an emergency communiqué from Earth. It should be waiting on your com unit.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Louise dusted off her dirty hands and retrieved her com from her pants pocket. Sure enough the message was waiting. She’d forgotten she’d muted the stupid thing on the off chance Adam decided to reply.
The message was from the district attorney.
Shit.
“Mrs. Elliot, I need to ask.” Thoms motioned to her face with a finger, mouth small and expression serious. The way he looked at it, you’d have thought someone had taken a bat to her face. “Did your husband do that? Was it Adam?”
Without hesitation she looked him straight in the eye and lied. “No.”
“You don’t need to be afraid, you know.” Understanding eyes studied her, concern written in every line of his face. It felt false and a lot like fishing.
“I know.”
“Louise, you can tell me.” He leaned toward her, encroaching further on her personal space, with a face composed with calm reassurance.
“Rest assured, Mr. Thoms, if my husband ever deliberately raised his hand against me it would be his body I’d be burying in this shallow hole.” She didn’t even blink, because that part was the truth. “Was that everything?”
The man grinned more broadly than before and slapped the palms of his hands against his knees. He rose to his feet. “All right.”
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Elliot.” He left, carefully moving through the jungle. Not making so much noise now.
She opened the communiqué. It had been keyed to her fingerprint, so no one else had seen its contents. The words didn’t make sense at first. Or her mind didn’t want them to.
A summation of Adam’s army service scrolled across the screen. Her husband was quite accomplished—impressively so. There were even medals and commendations. Adam had been a war hero, amongst other things. The record had been labeled top secret. At the bottom sat a bold red demand from the DA for her to board the next shuttle leaving Esther. Not so surprising. Her husband would be just about their worst nightmare in terms of secrecy.
All the strength leached from her. She sank onto the ground. Adam. Con’s death had broken her heart but this seemed different, somehow, sharper. Which made no sense, because she’d been with Con for years before he’d changed into someone she no longer knew. This was Adam of the eight-day marriage, and it hurt. It really fucking hurt.
So they both had secrets. He hadn’t been just a grunt in the army. Not even a little. He probably already knew she was lying. With his training, of course he knew. She had to leave. Right now.
A big, fat tear landed
splat
on her com screen, distorting the DA’s demand. Louise scrubbed at her face and took a deep breath.
Stupid.
What was the point in tears?
Her marriage was over.
“What do you mean she’s been secured?” Adam hollered.
Bon gazed back impassively, didn’t even flinch when Adam bared his teeth in his face.
“I’m sorry. I can’t get you access to her at this point,” replied Bon.
“Fuck!”
“Calm down. We need to think this through.” The chief leaned against the big desk squeezed into his cupboard of an office off the main hangar. The temperature was better than outside, but not by much. Everyone still wore their gray corp thermal suits. Barely quitting time and his life had just been turned upside down. Again.
The door slid open and Taka stepped through. Outside, the wind howled with the incoming storm. Sleet crashed down through the wide bay doors. “What’s going on?”
“Louise requested internment with security until the next ship leaves tomorrow.”
“Why?” Taka looked right at him, face set.
Adam growled again in frustration. She’d refused to let him leave the bed. There was no way this was about his damn nightmare. “I don’t know. We were doing okay.”
“Actually, we’ve been looking into her background. And so far we’re being stonewalled by someone high-level.” The chief tapped a foot against the ground. “Which is interesting.”
“You were right about her name. Louise’s file barely exists past five years ago. Very sketchy.” Bon cracked his neck and dropped his big body into a chair. The metal legs creaked in protest at the sudden weight. “Her eyes…”
“What about them?” Adam asked. He couldn’t sit, so he paced back and forth. Not that he could get far, but it helped. She had lovely dark eyes, his wife. And if she thought she was not going to be his wife, she’d find herself very much mistaken.
“Dark brown, aren’t they?” asked Bon.
Adam nodded.
“You can pigment eyes, but they’ve only managed a dark brown so far. The technology isn’t that advanced.” Bon’s finger tapped on his knee. “And her hair…she the same all over?”
“What?”
The chief cleared his throat. “I believe Bon is trying to discreetly ask if her pussy hair differs from the shade of hair on her head.”
“She’s bare.”
“Nice. I mean, right. Okay.” Nathan took a wary step backward. “Sorry—it’s been a while. Back to business.”
“Her name is fake and most likely her eye color too,” said Bon.
“You think she’s on the run?” asked Taka.
Bon’s finger-tapping hastened. “Yeah. But from whom?”
“What did she say?” Adam demanded, recommencing his pacing. He had energy to burn. Someone keeping him from his wife? Not fucking likely.
“Not a lot—she didn’t need to with the bruise on her face,” said Bon. “She’s still denying you gave it to her, for what it’s worth. Citing irreconcilable differences. Christiana’s all over her trying to mediate the situation.”
The chief sniggered. Well, he could. It wasn’t
his
fucking marriage on the line.
“All right.” Nathan stood tall and crossed his arms. “She got a communiqué earlier from Earth. We can safely assume it set this off. We need to know what was in it and we need her real ID. Pronto.”
“On it.” Bon rose and tipped his chin to Adam before leaving.
“Do you think she’d talk to Rose?” asked Taka.
“It’s worth a go,” said the chief.
Taka nodded and left too.
“I’ll ask one last time. The woman has lied to you, misrepresented herself. She could be bringing a world of trouble down around our ears, Adam. Are you sure you want to go ahead with this?”
“Yes.”
Nathan nodded once. “Then go and do what you should be doing.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“Ranting and raving. Demanding to see the little woman. Everything a good husband would be doing in this dire situation.” Nathan gripped his shoulder and steered him toward the door. “Give us some cover to get what you need, because you can guarantee someone is watching.”
“Loouuiiisse…”
Oh shit.
Louise gripped the arms of her seat and winced at the howling filling the hallway. It sounded loud and aggrieved and left no doubt whatsoever who was responsible. Adam, her soon-to-be ex-husband. She wrapped her arms around herself and held on tight. It didn’t help.
She could do this.
It had to be the right thing to do. The right thing, however, sucked. Something inside her felt broken and there’d be no mending it. She wanted to roll into a ball and hide in the corner, cry herself out. Instead she sat there and waited. The next ship wasn’t far away. She could do this.
“Loouuiiisse!”
Adam.
Christiana’s eyes widened and she gave her hair an irritated flick. “I’ll deal with this.”
“Okay.” Louise doubted the woman could deal with Adam on her best day, but there was no point objecting.
Louise couldn’t change her mind about leaving him. There was no going back. If he didn’t already suspect she’d lied to him about every last little thing, then he soon would. He’d use his army intelligence training and he’d find out. Then he’d hate her for sure. But worse, he just might make a target of himself. The wrong person could notice Adam asking questions and she couldn’t take the chance. Someone had said the wrong thing to the wrong person once at the DA’s office and one of her guards had ended up being tortured to death. It had happened right before they’d shoved her on the ship to come to Esther. Ample proof that the gangland bastards still had it burning fierce for her. She’d put one of their favorite sons on death row for killing Con. This was on her.
Adam would not get caught in the crossfire.
“Louise! Where are you?” he bellowed from beyond.
Her shoulders jerked and her face fell. The poor baby—he sounded so wounded. That and as mad as all hell.
“Princess!”
“Mrs. Elliot?” The guy from earlier was standing before her. Josh something. The pretty blond who’d brought her the good news in the garden.
“Yes?”
Christiana came bustling back in. She looked twitchy. Well riled up. “Security is holding him back. The man is completely unreasonable.”
Yes. He was. And she loved every unreasonable inch of him.
“I was just going to move Mrs. Elliot to a more secure location,” Josh informed her.
Christiana pulled out her com. “Oh I don’t think—”
Josh’s arm wound around the counselor’s neck in a heartbeat and he set his hand on the side of her head. Then he twisted. The crack of Christiana’s neck as it broke…gods, the sound. Louise almost wet herself in stark terror.
Christiana’s com unit fell from her dead hand and clattered to the ground.
“Don’t even make a peep,” the man told her. “But you’re not going to, are you? You wouldn’t want anything to happen to that idiot out there.”
She shook her head.
“Princess! Get out here.” Adam sounded closer than before—dangerously so.
The guy gave her a grim smile and Christiana’s limp body slid to the floor. “Thought as much.”
Fucker.
No, she wouldn’t make a peep. But she wasn’t standing around and making it easy for him either.
Louise threw herself out of the chair and high-tailed it. Fear gave her fuel. The room had two doors and she made for the one farthest from him. He made a noise, some growly sound, and she just kept going. There was an endless white corridor with an occasional door featuring a cleaner’s cart decal. Useless—she ran on. Her pulse thudded like a stampede.
Adam yelled again behind her, called out her name. She had to get the murderous prick away from him—had to. Might be the last damn thing she ever did, but that would be okay. That would be fine. Escape would only ever be temporary, outgunned as she was. Deep down in some shadowy corner, she’d always known, or at least suspected. One day they’d get her.
Down the well-lit corridor she fled. At the end stood a big, old, clunky-looking sliding door, and it trotted open at a sloth’s pace as she approached. She heard a noise, a popping sound, coming from behind her. Fuck. He’d shot at her. She saw a little black circle beside her head, embedded in the wall. She might not be so lucky a second time.
The minute the door had opened enough for her to push herself through, she did so. Next came an icy, old corridor with red and brown rust stains running down the walls. Obviously, no one much came this way. The air smelled stale and faintly metallic. Behind her the door ground slowly shut and the prick slammed into it, banging impatiently against it because he couldn’t fit through where she could. She might die this time, but he would have to work for it, the prick.
Shit, shit, shit.
Neither way looked promising. The long, frigid corridor must run through the outer wall of the colony. At least it led away from Adam.
Louise turned left and ran. The corridor went on and on. Behind her, the door squealed and complained as it opened slowly a second time. She had to be out of sight by the time it did—and where the hell was she, anyway? Where could she run to? Her shoes skid across a patch of ice and she went careening into the wall, bashing her elbow against the solid metal.
Behind her, the door clinked slowly open. She could hear yelling but who it was and what they were shouting, she did not know. Whatever happened, the prick would be coming. Her head was his meal ticket.
Embedded in the wall stood a ladder leading up to the surface—had to be. So up she went.
Her leg muscles burned and her side cramped with fear. The noise of her feet and hands clanging against the rungs echoed hollowly.
Keep going. Faster and faster.
Above her head sat a round, metal portal. A sensor light blinked lazily to green and the gears started moving, beginning the process of opening. The first gust of polar wind hit her, and
gods
. Fuck, her face stung. It burned. It was raining…or snowing. The same sludgy, icy-cold shit that had greeted her when she’d first stepped foot on Esther dripped down through the widening gap and splattered her upturned face.