Desire Disguised (8 page)

Glancing over at the security ship, Cara was reassured by the sound of Mat’s voice, and she closed her eyes, hoping her head would stop spinning soon and she could resume her guardian duties. She heard movement and jumped to attention as Ben approached her, his brows furrowed.

“Cara, slow down. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” His low pitched voice reached some frozen part of her brain, and she wondered if she might collapse. He must have thought the same, because he reached out for her, and she fell against him. Maybe her feet had gotten stuck in the muck or she’d flash-fainted, but suddenly there were strong arms around her shoulders and a solid chest against her cheek, and Cara fell apart.

Hot tears leaked from her tightly shut eyes as she sobbed all her hurt and fear, jerking out of her body with each cry. She barely heard Ben advise Mat she was going to be fine and he should go back to the flyer before he’d started to rub her back in slow circles. He murmured something in her ear, and she attempted to contain her crying so she could hear him, but the grief hit her again, and she gave up trying to control herself. She’d always been told not to show any vulnerability to strangers, trained to believe outsiders weren’t to be trusted, but she was too weak to maintain that distance now.

Ben shifted her body against his, and she melted. Sniffling and trying to breathe as he’d instructed, Cara’s heart rate slowed, and she noticed more than her chaotic thoughts. She’d made a mess of his tunic for one, the fabric under her cheek wet from her tears. She’d somehow wrapped one arm tightly around his waist while the other had circled around his shoulder in a very intimate position. Soren would be horrified if he saw her behaving this way with a man. Of course, Soren was a thousand kilometers away and unconscious, so Cara didn’t need to fear his disapproval quite yet.

It simply felt good to be held, and so she allowed herself the luxury a little while longer. She felt him take a deep breath, his chest expanding as his heavy arms tightened against her. One of his hands brushed against her hair, and she let out a deep sigh, some calm seeping in to replace the panic that had thrown her from the burned ship as if she’d crashed again.

“You could have stayed aboard the flyer.”

Taking a sniff, Cara knew she’d have to stand on her own in seconds so she needed to start thinking again, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to control her lower limbs, and she’d fall right into the mud. “I didn’t know I’d react like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? I shouldn’t have brought you back here.” Ben’s voice was low, but she heard a note of something that confused her. She drew back to look at him, and her arms disengaged from his body. It was proper to take a step back, but her body ached where she’d touched him. Ben watched her with narrowed eyes, his mouth a tight line. “If I’d been thinking, I would have known you might suffer anxiety when you were exposed to this. I was…distracted. I’m sorry.”

Cara shook her head a little. “Why are
you
apologizing? We needed to get our things, and it’s hardly your job to act as a butlebot for our luggage.”

Ben barely shrugged his broad shoulders. “Feeling well enough to get back on board the flyer? I’m sure Mat’s concerned.”

She nodded and made fruitless attempts to find something in her pockets to wipe her face. She didn’t appear cool and serene now. More like a sloppy mess. Some hygienic tissues appeared in Ben’s hand, and he offered them to her. Wiping her face roughly, Cara focused on him and saw the mess she’d made on his tunic. She reached out and wiped at the damp spot, but his hand caught at hers before she could make contact.

“Don’t worry about me. Can you get on the ship or do you need some more time?”

“No. Let’s go. I’d like to leave this place.”

* * * *

It was late by the time Ben returned home. Too late to stop by the Belasco’s and make sure they had everything they needed for the evening. He’d returned from their minor expedition to find there had been a domestic dispute between the ever-feuding Emmerts. It had involved heavy equipment crashed in the middle of the street, and there were innumerable witnesses to interview as well as monitoring the medical condition of the two injured parties. That had taken him well into the third shift by the time he’d felt he could leave the station. He was tired and hungry and too keyed up to remedy either. He checked his datfeed and found he had several messages in the queue and that the Belascos had arrived home just after he’d dropped them off after their trip to the crash site. They hadn’t left their suite since.

Slightly less agitated after learning that, Ben decided to make a sandwich and start watching his messages. Perhaps by the second or third communication he’d be relaxed enough to eat. A bottle of brew might help too. He checked the duty roster and reassured himself there were four experienced officers scheduled that night, so it was very unlikely he’d be called in for anything, and he could have a drink or two. After he placed his meal and beer on the table in front of his display, Ben unfastened his tunic and inspected it. A strand of auburn hair was caught on one of his pips, and he stroked it with a fingertip as he remembered Cara’s anguish that afternoon. He decided not to put the tunic in the laundry bag just yet, and instead, hung it over the back of a chair.

Settling in to his seat, Ben called up the first message and gave his sandwich an experimental bite. Not bad considering he hadn’t bothered to get supplies for at least a week. Or was it two? He needed to remember to order groceries more often. Had Cara been informed she could order in whatever she and Mat needed? He knew she was reluctant to venture out, so that could be a good choice for them. Ben pulled out his datpad and made a note to mention it to her the next time he saw her. Maybe tomorrow…

His musings were interrupted when the vid message began and Liliane Frei’s smiling face appeared.

“Zash! How are you?” She was seated on a dark grey sofa, the edge of a large framed painting visible on the wall behind her. “I’m happy to confirm I’ll be arriving on Gamaliel courtesy of flight two ninety-one of the Horton. By the time you get this, I’ll be on my way.” She curled her legs up and glanced down at a datpad, probably to confirm her information. Lia had worked as the initial construction scheduler on the new congressional projects in Pearl at the same time he had arrived to set up a formal safety services station a year prior. She was so good at her job she’d been reassigned to a very prestigious project a few weeks after arriving. She probably had her vacation planned to the nanosecond with at least four contingency plans every step of the way.

“Everything is going very well here. Clare is babbling and rolling. You have to see her, she’s so fat!” Lia laughed and called over her shoulder to her partner Colan to bring the baby. Ben hadn’t been surprised to learn Lia was pregnant soon after arriving on Weave to oversee the Herald project. She’d started a torrid affair with a local almost as soon as she’d arrived on Gamaliel, and the man had followed her to Weave when she had to leave. Colan appeared in the frame carrying a plump baby with a white cap on her head. She gurgled and kicked her legs when she saw her mother, and Lia scooped her up with extravagant kisses. Colan leaned down and gave the vid lens a wave.

“Hey, Zash. Take care of Lia while she’s there.” The other man sauntered away after handing over a cloth to Lia. Colan was a man of few words but steady in a crisis.

“Here she is, the best baby on Weave. Say hello to Bendix Zashi, Clare.” Lia took one tiny chubby hand and waved it at him, and Ben found himself waving back. Lia looked happy; family life agreed with her. Several times over the course of their friendship, he’d been asked why he hadn’t partnered up with her, and his response was always the same. Lia would have micromanaged him to distraction. The baby gave a squeal and tried to fall headfirst into the table in front of her. Lia caught her automatically, and Colan’s arms reached in and snatched her away. He heard some indistinct soothing words, and Lia again focused on the screen.

“So, I’ll be there on flight two ninety-one. I’ve arranged guest quarters but was hoping you could free up some time to play baccio with me. Maybe we can pull an all-nighter like we used to. I’ve gotten used to going on less sleep because of Clare and Colan.” She smiled widely. “It’s going to be good seeing how the settlement has progressed since I’ve been gone. And Colan doesn’t want me to make jumps when I get pregnant again, so this will be it for at least another year.”

Ben sat back at that bit of news. Another baby? It seemed as if Clare had just been born. Family life really was agreeing with them.

“See you soon, Zash. We can talk about your prospects for babies when I get there. Flight two ninety-one.” With that last little reminder, Lia powered off the vid and disappeared. The next message in the queue flashed up, and he left it unopened as he ate another bite of sandwich. It wasn’t very good; just some bland hummus on stale bread. Babies indeed. As if he had time for one of those or to initiate a relationship with a woman in order to progress to such a thing. At least the beer tasted good. It helped wash down the last of the sandwich.

He decided to view his messages from his mother and brother another time. They’d both be filled with the same gossip, and he was uninterested in paying enough attention to craft an appropriate response to either of them. He leaned his head back against the sofa and wondered if he was relaxed enough to fall asleep.

His door pinged, and he sat up. A quick glance at his datpad showed there were no new messages about anything urgent, so no one was here to collect him for duty. Sighing, he put down his beer and stood up with a careful stretch of his shoulders. He’d gotten roughed up in the altercation on the street earlier and old injuries were stiffening. A hot shower would do wonders to loosen him up and make him sleepy.

He checked the door display and was surprised to see the Belascos waiting there. Cara faced her brother and listened intently to whatever he was saying. He opened the door, and she turned to face him, the tender smile she’d given her brother flickering away to something much more tentative when she saw him. They were both carrying covered containers and were in sleepwear. Mat’s must have been in his recovered luggage, because no one on Gamaliel would have turned over something so eye-catching to the community chest. The garments were covered with holographic cartoon characters, and the figures appeared to move randomly all over the garment. Ben had never seen anything like it. Cara was bundled up in a grey robe which allowed only the hems and cuffs of her pale green sleepwear to show. She’d braided her russet hair into a tail that curved over her shoulder.

“We’re sorry to disturb you so late, but we wanted to bring you something as a thank you.” Cara extended her container toward him, and he took it automatically. The bottom was warm against his fingertips.

“It’s tandoori tofu and vegetable khorma. Cara invented it,” Mat piped up as he handed his over. “I made these cookies for you. Cara supervised so they’re still pretty good.” The boy glowed with pride at his handwork, and Ben thanked them both, taken aback by their gesture.

“How did you know I was home?”

“I did that too. Cara was checking the hall monitor constantly and it bothered me so much I set up a warning motion routine.”

Ben was impressed by his inventiveness. “Nice work. Perimeter security and cookies all in one evening. Did you ever think about safety services when you’re old enough for the academy?” He’d thrown out the suggestion automatically, but Mat’s open expression stilled to watchfulness. Cara slipped an arm around his multicolored shoulder.

“No. I won’t be doing that,” the boy answered and glanced at the floor. Ben knew he’d said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. Cara glanced from her brother to briefly meet Ben’s eyes and then focused on the containers he’d forgotten he was holding.

“It’s late. We should go. School in the morning, right?” She gave her brother a quick squeeze and steered him toward their door across the corridor.

“Cara, wait.” Ben didn’t know what he wanted to say, but Cara stopped and waved her brother to go on into their room, his vivid pajamas whirling with color and pattern. How did he fall asleep with all that glowing in the dark? His sister turned around and watched him, a meter and half away but even further judging by the coolness in her gaze.

“I said something wrong just then. About the academy.”

She nodded once and remained silent. Then it hit him. They were in hiding. There was no way Mat would ever be able to attend such an institution. He wouldn’t have the academic credentials or even the proper citizenship pedigree to qualify. That meant Cara hadn’t been able to go either. Sore subject.

“What would he want to study there, if he could?” Why had he asked that? He was just adding insult to injury now.

“Biomechanical engineering. We study as much as we can, but there’s only so much he can learn without a lab, proper teachers, or the right equipment.” Cara took a deep breath and gave her head a firm shake as if she was telling herself something negative. Her braid slipped off her shoulder with the motion. “Goodnight, Chief.”

So they were back to formalities again. Rather than keep talking and say something else that would make her more upset, Ben nodded once. She turned and went back to her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

As he closed his own door and carried the containers to his bare kitchen, Ben was again buzzing with curiosity about the Belascos. What exactly had their father done to have incurred such a lonely legacy for his children?

* * * *

“Time for bed.” Cara called out to Mat as he flung himself on the sofa. Her stomach clenched with nerves after their encounter with Ben. She’d been in a nervous flurry all evening as she watched for his arrival, debating with herself if they should disturb the man at all, if giving him food was appropriate, what his culinary preferences might be. She didn’t know much about him, so she’d packed up two servings. He might have a roommate or even a partner. She didn’t know. Her imagination whirled when she considered what he might find attractive. Probably someone with sophisticated taste and talented at hand-to-hand combat. He might take one look at her poor attempt at a new dish and toss it all into the disposal. He was probably a trained gourmand and was even now laughing uproariously at her offering. At least Mat’s cookies had turned out well.