Star Raiders (24 page)

Her eyelids dropped shut and she murmured, “Rian.” Greyson stopped. Anger heated his blood. He wanted to grab and shake the truth of the other man from her, but he knew unless she was wil ing she’d tel him nothing. With an oath, he stalked out of the room.

He’d never believed himself to be a jealous man, but he had to admit he hated the sound of another man’s name on Shyanne’s lips. Though he lacked the courage to claim her for himself, at least for good, the thought of her in another man’s arms brought him close to rage. He was the worst kind of bastard.

He paced down the hal into the house’s front parlor and stopped short.

Someone sat in a chair by the window.

“Wel , don’t just stand there, boy.”

“Matha?” He moved closer.

“Who else? I do live here, too, you know.” She chuckled. “What are you doing up? After al that dancing and…whatnot, I would think you’d be needing some sleep.” Her chuckle was pronounced. Greyson was thankful for the darkness that hid both his bare chest and the heat flooding his cheeks.

“I could say the same of you—the dancing, anyways.” By anyone’s standards the party had been a rousing success. He’d enjoyed being with Shyanne and found he liked the people of Uta. Their love for her was obvious in their acceptance of him. People talked, laughed, ate and danced long into the short night. To his relief, none of the
Independence
crew had stayed for it.

Damon, Terle and Eldin—though he liked the men, they knew the truth and their suspicious looks made him uncomfortable. Brina had opted to remain. He’d seen her laughing and dancing with a besotted young suitor. The resilience of youth amazed him. It also made him feel old.

“I do love to dance,” Matha admitted. “Though I’m sorry Tomas missed the party.”

Unable to settle, Greyson wandered about the homey room, peering through the gloom at the smattering of pictures. Perhaps Rian was one of the people. He stared at each, wondering how he would know. Bare spots on the wal s and tables led him to believe some pictures had been removed. He picked up a picture of a much younger Matha and a man. The two were laughing at something not pictured.

“That’s my Tomas. Handsome devil, isn’t he?” Matha came to stand beside Greyson and turned on a lamp. “Shyanne took that when she was just ten. She always had a good eye.”

Though the picture was an old-style stil shot, the composition, color and lighting were excel ent. She’d certainly captured the dynamics between the couple and whatever they saw.

Matha waved her hand at the pictures decorating the room. “In fact, she took almost al of these.” The woman moved with Greyson, identified each subject and added little stories. He absorbed every detail, a portrait of Shyanne’s childhood taking shape in his mind.

He studied each picture, as if by doing so he could understand the woman behind the camera. It helped some. He could see her humor, her passion, her love reflected in each picture, but they didn’t reveal any more about who she was. Not as much as he needed to know.

He paused in his perusal of the gal ery. “You’ve been with Shyanne since she was a child. What was she like as a little girl?”

“She was five when we came into her life,” Matha told him. “Bold. Fearless. It was al me and Tomas could do to keep up, bless her heart. We never thought we’d have children. Before Stewart rescued us, we were slaves. Our master sterilized us. Mine-fodder and pleasure slaves don’t need to breed.” Her matter-of-fact words about the horror of slavery sent a shudder through Greyson. The evil of pirates and slavers was one of the reasons why he’d worked so tirelessly in ASP. Too many people stil suffered the fate Kedar had saved this couple from, or died like his mother and little Anna.

“So when Stewart asked us to foster Shyanne, we were thril ed. She may not be the child of our bodies, but she’s the child of our hearts,” the old woman admitted.

Greyson picked up the last picture, a shot of a family group, a man, a woman and a child of about five. He didn’t real y see it, though. Instead, he looked at Matha and asked, “Who’s Rian?”

Her plump features reflected her surprise; then a wary look replaced it. She shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. Ask Shyanne.”

“I did. She wouldn’t tel me.”

“Then, there’s your answer. When she’s ready, she’l tel you. The question is, are you ready to know?”

To hide his frustration he studied the picture in his hand. The shot was old, but the features of the people were clear. His breath stil ed as he recognized each person, the man, the woman and the child.

“Who are these people?” He forced the question through frozen lips.

Seemingly unaware of his distress, Matha peered at the picture. “That’s Stewart, his wife and his son. Sad story. I don’t know al the details. Tomas and I weren’t here then. She ran off with the boy shortly after that shot was taken. Rumor has it she couldn’t handle life as the wife of a smuggler.”

“What happened to them?” he rasped.

“I’m not sure. I always thought it strange she’d leave her baby girl behind, but it’s fortunate she did. A few years later she died during a pirate attack on the cruise ship she was working on. I assume the boy was with her. Stewart never spoke of them. He had Shyanne to console him.”

The first hint of dawn was touching the sky, but nothing could light the dark wel of blackness growing inside Greyson. He barely noticed as Matha said good night and headed for her room. He sank into the chair by the window and ran his fingers over the familiar images staring up at him, as if by doing so he could change what he knew to be true. His hands shook with rage, horror and disgust.

His mother had lied to him. Chalmer had lied to him. Kedar had lied to him. Al these years they’d known the truth.

With an anguished groan he gripped the frame in his fist until the glass snapped.

He was Stewart Kedar’s son. Which meant…he was Shyanne’s brother.

Shy woke smiling. Sunlight streamed through the open window, bathing her in warmth. The twitter of birds sounded like music. Hours of dancing and lovemaking had left her body aching in a pleasant way. She stretched and rose.

Greyson was nowhere in the room, but she could hear Matha moving around the kitchen. The smel of frying bacon and fresh rol s wafted into the bedroom.

Despite the quantity of food and wine she’d consumed the night before, her stomach growled in response. The aroma had probably drawn Greyson as wel .

A twinge of anxiety threatened her burgeoning happiness. Today she’d tel Greyson about Rian. How would he react? Surely, she reassured herself, after last night he’d understand and forgive her. Maybe before they left to chase after Dempster he could even meet his son. Rian, she knew, would be thril ed with Greyson. Though the boy had never mentioned it—he loved Tomas too much to suggest such a thing—Shy knew he longed for a real father. How could he not?

Greyson couldn’t help being pleased with Rian, either. He was a great kid, the kind of son any man would be proud to claim. Thoughts of their reunion fil ed her mind as she dressed.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Matha greeted her as she entered the large, airy kitchen.

“Morning,” Shy answered. She plopped down at the table and reached for the coffeepot. “Smel s good!”

His back to her, Greyson stood at the window, a steaming cup of coffee held immobile in his hand. Something about the rigid set of his shoulders gave her pause.

“Food’s on the table. Serve yourself,” Matha said. “I’m off. I promised to help clear the square this morning.” Then, with a cheery wave, the older woman bustled out the door, leaving Shy and Greyson alone.

He didn’t respond or turn. Hunger forgotten, Shy stood.

“Greyson? What’s wrong?” She walked to his side and reached out to touch his arm. He sidestepped, avoiding her touch, then turned to face her. His gaze gave her frostbite.

“Nothing’s wrong. What could possibly be wrong? I talked to Able. In a few hours they’l have the weapons system up and we’l be off this rock.” She stumbled back in recognition, realizing that al along she’d been waiting for this man to reappear. His features rigid and cold, he looked at her as if she were less than human. He gave her the same look he’d given her so many years ago when he’d arrested her father.

She tried to resurrect the anger she’d felt then, but al she felt now was pain.

Somehow, he knew about Rian. “Greyson, please. I wanted to tel you about…” She reached out for him.

He jerked back. Hot coffee splashed across his hand, but he didn’t seem to notice. His skin reddened and puckered, but she could see a deeper, emotional pain churning in his eyes.

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew.”

“How…how could you?”

His questions and reaction confused her. She’d expected his anger, but not this cold disinterest. Why didn’t he ask about his son? Somehow she had to explain, had to make him understand why she’d kept Rian a secret.

He turned away and slammed the cup down on the table. Coffee sloshed. His shoulders shook with emotion.

Abandoning the pride that made her want to confront him with his own sins, she went to his side. “Look at me.” She cupped his cheek in her palm and turned his face to her. His tortured expression sliced at her heart. She’d caused this pain.

Only she could heal it. If she had to she’d beg.

“Let me explain. I was afraid I’d lose you,” she pleaded.

“Wel , you were right. We’re over.”

“Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive me?” He straightened and shoved her away. She grunted in pain as she stumbled back and the smal of her back slammed into the hard edge of the table. For a second, regret flickered in his eyes. He started to reach for her but pul ed his hand back. Al expression drained from his face. His eyes looked like unpolished ironwood, cold and dul . His tone was flat.

“Forgiveness won’t change the facts. Once Dempster is caught, I never want to see you again.”

“What about Rian?”

“You’re welcome to him.” He stalked toward the door.

This was wrong! Of al the reactions she’d imagined from him, she couldn’t believe he would turn his back on his son. “Greyson, wait! We can’t leave things like this.” She started after him.

An explosion shook the house. Glass shattered. Plaster rained down on her head. She stumbled and fel to her knees. Her ears rang. Dimly she heard and felt other more distant explosions. She blinked away the grit. Greyson lay on his back in the doorway. Motionless.

Oblivious of the glass biting into her palms, she crawled to his side. Blood trickled down his forehead. Heart racing, she felt his throat for a pulse. It beat slow and steady beneath her fingertips. Relief left her weak. She used a stray dish towel to wipe the blood from his head. The cut appeared minor, but he sported a large lump.

“Greyson, wake up.” She dampened the towel and patted his cheeks.

Outside, she could hear the wail of the town’s sirens. Voices yel ed instructions. The ground trembled with more explosions.

Greyson groaned. His eyelids flickered open. He struggled to sit up. “What happened?”

“We’re under attack.” Another explosion rattled the house. “We have to get out of here. Can you get up? Are you hurt anywhere else?” He touched the lump on his head and winced. “I’m dizzy and my vision is blurry, but I don’t think so. Help me up.”

“Come on.” She braced her shoulder under his arm. They staggered out of the house into chaos.

Houses lay in rubble. Fires burned everywhere. Bodies were strewn in the streets. People screamed.

Shy wanted to go to them, to help them. She knew she couldn’t stop, though, couldn’t give in to the horror, couldn’t surrender to the rage burning in her gut. She attempted to contact
Independence
, but her internal com link gave back nothing but static.

“I’ve got to get to the tower and contact
Independence
. She’s our only hope.

Can you make it?”

Greyson straightened and stepped away from her. He was al business. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Distantly she registered her hurt at the chil in his voice, but was relieved when his weight left her shoulders.

She stopped briefly to give instructions to the men in town. She told them to take everyone to the caves. They’d be safe there for now, as long ago she’d stocked them for just such an occasion. There was canned food and provisions in there for at least a month, and the underground network was safe from al aerial attack. She hadn’t told Greyson about it because she’d hoped it would never be used.

A moment later, she and Greyson were running through town toward the landing area. She didn’t wait to see her orders carried out, because if she didn’t stop the attack, no one would survive to be evacuated. She closed her mind to the cries of the injured. Was Matha one of them? She praised the stars Rian was away from town; Tomas would see to the boy’s safety.

She broke out from the tree line and skidded to a halt. The landing area lay in ruins. Almost every ship was destroyed or damaged, but the tower stil stood. How had the attacker missed it? Men scurried among the ships assessing the damage.

As she watched, one lifted off, a patrol ship with modest weaponry. Burns and dents marred its normal y pristine hul , but it stil flew. It wobbled in the air, then streaked off into the sky.

Halfway out of the atmosphere it was blasted into oblivion. Fiery debris rained down.

“No!” Shy screamed, bolting forward. She didn’t wait to see if Greyson fol owed.

Men cal ed out to her as she charged up into the tower. She ignored them. The tower com was alive with chatter. The attacker had clearly left the tower intact for a reason. She wanted to discover what that was.

“How many patrol ships are stil up?” she demanded without preamble.

“Five,” the control er answered.

“Can they engage?”

“No. This ship’s too large and wel armed. They’re staying out of range. You saw what happened to the
Infinity.
”

“Yes. What about
Independence
?”

“Here.” Able’s gravel y voice came over the com.

Relief made Shy sag against the console. “Is everyone al right?”