Prodigal (Maelstrom Chronicles) (10 page)

“You two seemed to get chummy in a short amount of time.” Her gaze averted, she continued. “She’s nice. Pretty. Available.”

She might be jealous, or she might be stating facts. He had no way of knowing.

“Apparently I don’t like nice, pretty women,” he said, stating some facts of his own. “Apparently I’m drawn to rude ones who never take off their battle vests and blaster bands.”

“You need to stop saying that. That you’re drawn to me,” she admonished, but not with the same passion as the rest of their argument. Whatever he’d said, she seemed to be defused for now. “You don’t know enough women. Before the amnesia, you had…a lot of experience. You had a type. It wasn’t me.”

“I don’t have to remember my history to know what or who interests me.” He shrugged. “Call your daughter, Claire.”

Almost challengingly, Claire instead stripped off her parka, hanging it on a hook by the door, and then her vest. He wasn’t sure how the closures worked; she peeled a finger along the front, and the thin, silver mesh slid off. She hung that on a different hook, along with her radio belt.

Beneath the vest she wore a fitted T-shirt that clung to her spare curves almost as tightly as his own T-shirt fit him. He hadn’t needed to know the lines of her figure to be attracted to her, but the shape of her small breasts and trim waist made him want to kiss his way down her body. Her camo pants concealed her legs and hips, but based on the fitness of her upper torso, he was guessing she was long and lean all the way to her toes.

His pulse accelerated at the thought of those long, lean legs bared to his gaze. He imagined tiny black underwear concealing her femininity, but not her tight ass. Maybe a thong.

He remembered thongs.

Fondly.

With some showiness, she pushed up her sleeves and unclipped the blaster bands. The skin beneath them was more pinkish than the rest of her, where she hadn’t entirely healed. She rubbed her arms slowly, the shush of her fingers on her skin audible.

“I need some lotion,” she said, but she wasn’t looking at her skin. She was looking at his face. “I’m getting ashy. All over.”

Clearly, she expected him to say something sexual. Instead, he joined her and added his parka to the hook. She watched him as blatantly as he’d watched her, checking him out, but he didn’t make a show of it.

“If you’re done ogling me, I’m going to call Frannie now,” she had the audacity to announce. She indicated one of the twin beds. “You stay out of the way. That one’s yours. I’ll be in my own bed tonight. If the cat poops in here, you’re cleaning it up.”

“I’m not ogling,” he lied pleasantly. “I’ve just never seen you without armor before. Meanwhile, you’ve seen me naked.”

“I don’t plan on returning that favor.” She swung into her chair and shot him a sly grin, posture more casual than he’d seen her all day. “But feel free to parade around nude. After I call Frannie. She doesn’t need to see your junk.”

He smiled. “Now you
want
to see me naked? That wasn’t how you responded last night.”

“I’ve gained some perspective. And I don’t think you’ll do it.” She manipulated the view screen at her desk, flicking it on. A ringing tone filled the room. “It’s too damned cold.”

He was tempted to start stripping down to see what she would do, but that would be juvenile. He ’d protested that he didn’t want her to treat him like a child, so he wasn’t about to press the reset button. He idled on the bed, an arm across his knee, while he watched her talk to Frannie and the doctor—Sarah. He remembered her name now.

A dark-haired man he assumed was General Nikolas made a brief appearance, though the guy seemed more interested in the Shearers’ deaths, the shade residue, and the silver pod than exchanging pleasantries.

Adam also heard Ship interject on occasion. He’d been surprised by how much personality the toneless, mechanical voice had exuded today and had enjoyed their interactions. Ship was more patient with his amnesia and more willing to explain things than any of the people. Claire was polite but cool toward the AI, almost as chilly as the temperature in the basement level of the barracks.

But when talking to Frannie?

Her demeanor changed. Softened. She grinned, laughed, made funny faces. Did voices. The toddler was cute and smiley. Adam didn’t know anything about babies and had no idea if he ever had, but Claire’s response to her daughter fascinated him.

She had multiple facets. Protectress. Mother. Defender. Warrior. Sheriff. Collaborator.

He’d like a different facet turned toward him.

Friend. Lover.

Would he be more appealing to her if he did regain his memories, or if he didn’t?

Or did he not have a chance in the world with her regardless?

Adam was still pondering that when they turned in for the night. He listened to her calm, even breathing, mesmerizing him until he fell asleep.

Chapter Nine

Claire’s radio blared much earlier than she’d intended to get up, considering today was supposed to be a four-hour shift for her, the closest thing she got to a day off.

“Claire. Wake up, Claire, please.”

She sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes. The floor was covered by rugs, but it was still cold enough to make her long for a pair of fluffy slippers. She’d never been a morning person. Yawning and stretching, she reached for the radio, forgetting momentarily that she wasn’t alone.

“I’m up, I’m up,” she said into the mouthpiece right as she met Adam’s eyes from the other bed.

His intense, green gaze drank in her messed-up hair, her thin tank top, her underpants, her bare legs, like he was dying of thirst and she was an ice cold glass of…root beer.

Claire was conscious of the dual urges to cover up and to spread her legs, daring him to respond. She did neither, because she had business to tend to.

“Some government types just showed up in helicopters, and they’re acting like they’re going to arrest Adam,” her deputy Will hissed over the receiver. In the background, she could hear shouting. “Elizabeth told them where your room is. Better get out of there. Rendezvous four-oh-nine.”

“Shit. Adam, get up.” She’d known the rest of the world would be curious about him, but she hadn’t thought anybody would take such an immediate action. Sarah’s clean bill of health must not have convinced people that Adam was no threat. The way things had been going with the untraceable shade hits, it was a huge deal for anybody to venture into the buffer zone if they didn’t have to.

Adam, she noticed, was already dressed. How long had he been awake? “What’s wrong, Claire?”

“Military goons are here to take you into custody or some shit.” She cursed roundly, shoving her legs into pants, her feet into boots. “Will, did Elizabeth call them?”

Elizabeth Newcome was persona non grata in D.C., what with the treason and all, but she could still pull strings on occasion. Damn the woman.

“Don’t know. Randall and I were on guard duty. Gotta go, somebody’s coming,” he said, before the walkie fuzzed off.

Claire’s cadre of deputies and associates had established exit strategies for various crises. Rendezvous 409 meant meeting in the dilapidated warehouse at the end of the tunnel they’d used to bring Adam into the barracks. If nothing else, it would provide them privacy to decide what they wanted to do.

Elizabeth was not part of this particular Plan B. Will was smart to have suggested it.

Claire slapped on her multipurp and blaster bands, checking the batteries on her blaster. Nearly full. Jesus. Was she really going to defy a legit Terran organization to help Adam, the same man she’d tried to send to Yellowstone as recently as yesterday?

No. No. This wasn’t about Adam per se, this was about somebody coming in here thinking they could confiscate her shit. If she let this happen, what would they come for next?

The food stores?

The Shipborn medical tech?

Frannie and the other half-Shipborn children?

Hell no. This was her town. She wasn’t surrendering anything to entities, to warlords, or to governmental bullies. They could all just fuck off.

“Check the hallway,” she told Adam, sealing her tactanium vest. Adam was staying in Chanute. It was the principle of the thing.

He glanced through the peephole. “Clear.”

She appreciated the fact that he didn’t pound her with questions while she was trying to think. Scenarios whirled through her brain. Chanute couldn’t stand against the U.S. military or GUN without the help of the Shipborn, and…

Well, hell. She grabbed her sensor array and implanted it. Her eyes watered with the sting. “Ship, we have a situation.”

Ship responded after a delay. “Hello, Claire. What is your situation?”

Its circuits must be hella busy—it rarely hesitated to answer her hails. Then again, the Shipborn had been doing a lot lately to preserve power.

Claire hooked the walkie onto her belt so her people could contact her if needed. It couldn’t be used to locate her, and she doubted Ship would volunteer to trace her sensor array for the interlopers. “A Terran group, not sure who, is here to take Adam. Don’t know why, or what they plan to do with him.”

“I have been monitoring some Terran communication channels. The group visiting Chanute is from the Global Union of Nations and is headed by Dr. Ditmer Sieders of the Netherlands. He is considered one of the finest—”

“You didn’t think to tell me this before now?” she interrupted. The treaty between the Shipborn and the Global Union included an agreement that Ship wouldn’t monitor all Terran communication. She had no idea where Ship had gleaned this info and didn’t care.

“Terrans are very curious. It did not surprise me when a team was assembled to further assess Adam Alsing,” Ship replied. “I did not think it would surprise you, either.”

“I don’t think it’s assessment they have in mind. The surprise is the unannounced arrival and potentially hostile intentions.” What could she do to stop the Global Union from taking Adam? Deep within, she acknowledged a need to prove he wasn’t dangerous even though there were mysteries about him, even though mysteries in this day and age could be hazardous.

Without asking permission, her mystery guy grabbed a handheld and stuck it in his waistband. She thought about vetoing the gun—it wouldn’t do to have anyone see him with a weapon if they were here to arrest him—but instead she just hassled him.

“Don’t shoot your ass off,” she warned, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have no ass,” Ship answered. “Do you mean my rear hangar? My weaponry is not trained on that part of my hull.”

“Talking to Adam.” She scanned the room quickly. Nope, not leaving anything behind. Except the damned cat, currently on top of a shelf next to the air vent, staring at them like it was recording their actions. “We’re headed out. Track us and tell Sarah what’s going on.”

She and Adam slipped out the door and ran to the end of a hallway that was supposed to be a dead end. She fancied she could hear the tread of jackboots on concrete echoing behind them, cutting them off. She tugged on the sealed door, and it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, she waved Adam at it.

He managed it handily, just like the first time. They latched it behind them and raced down the dank passage.

More footprints than she remembered marred the dust on the floor. What was up with that? Maybe someone had checked the passage for structural integrity since they’d had to use it the other night. They reached the end of the corridor, and her sensor array alerted her to several life signs in the warehouse but nothing else.

On the other side of this door might be their friends and might be a hell of a lot of trouble. What exactly did she think she could achieve? Hiding Adam? Sending him out of Chanute on the lam? Turning him, or herself, into a fugitive? Was she willing to shoot a fellow Terran over him? She set the blaster to stun, just in case, and hoped GUN would do the same.

Dammit.

Adam withdrew his pistol and copied her, ensuring his weapon was nonlethal. “What did Ship tell you?”

“The people trying to get their hands on you are the Global Union. It formed when we found out about the aliens, like United Nations but bigger and a lot pushier. They’re not corrupt that I know of, but…” She let the suggestion dangle. “I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anybody.”

“You can trust me, Claire,” Ship said. “Please reassure Adam Alsing that we will try to keep him from harm. I look forward to meeting him when he is allowed on board. I anticipate that should be soon. I have nearly convinced the trine to my side.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ship says hi.”

“My link with you can detect your facial expressions,” Ship announced. Unless a sensor array was disconnected from Ship’s network or set to private, Ship could access everything an array recorded, such as audio, video, and apparently muscle contractions.

Adam studied the door in front of them. “Does this Global Union have the authority to arrest me?”

She shrugged and placed a hand on the metal surface, wishing she could see through it. Her eyes were enhanced, but not Superman-style enhanced. “Probably,” she whispered back. “Don’t care.”

“Because you can’t bear to let me go?” His shoulder brushed hers in the narrow corridor. “I’m flattered.”

She scoffed—very quietly. “No, because Sarah said you were safe, and I don’t like people coming into my town trying to take my stuff.”

Her stuff indeed. She didn’t feel like parsing whether she had additional reasons for keeping Adam in Chanute. She’d changed her fucking mind. Whatever. Sentient’s prerogative.

“Ship,” she muttered into her array, “I don’t suppose you can tell whose life signs are on the other side of the door? Is it the good guys or the bad guys?”

“I do not have that ability in buildings that have not been appropriately upgraded,” Ship said. “If they were using sensor arrays, I could identify them, but there are no arrays close to you. What are your intentions, Claire?”

“Buy us enough time to turn this into a negotiation instead of a surrender, I guess. Here goes nothing.” She nudged open the door. Rusted hinges squealed a protest.

First glance revealed the warehouse to be empty except for bars of sunlight streaming through chinks in the walls and ceiling. Bare lightbulbs flickered haphazardly due to wiring, not generators. The Shipborn had helped any Terrans who wished it to boost their solar, hydro, and wind power, and much of Chanute was hooked up, including escape routes.

She and Adam slipped into the building. The door thunked closed behind them.

“Who’s here?” she called.

“Drop the weapons and put your hands up!” shouted a booming voice. “We’ve got you surrounded.”

So. It was the bad guys.

Adam glanced at her, and she nodded. She was wearing a tactanium vest. He wasn’t. Not worth the risk.

He placed his pistol on the ground and raised his arms. She raised hers, too, hoping her parka sleeves would cover the blaster.

“Sheriff Lawson, please remove any blaster bands you may be wearing,” another voice, a heavily accented one, added. Red dots of laser sights appeared all over Adam’s body, and hers, like measles. “I have it on good authority that you are probably armed with two bands, a knife, and a projectile weapon.”

Shit. Somebody who knew her habits had tipped these guys off—possibly somebody who knew about Rendezvous 409. Voluntarily or involuntarily?

“I’d be more inclined to do what you ask if you quit pointing a billion guns at me,” Claire said loudly.

An unarmed man stepped out from behind a stack of empty crates. “You’re in no danger. We are here from the Global Union of Nations to apprehend the Chosen One and assess his threat potential.”

Adam answered before Claire could. “Please don’t call me that. If I was chosen for something at one time, I’m not anymore.”

He made no sudden movements, just asked to be called by his name, but the guy from GUN froze. Most of the laser dots switched from Claire to Adam. Idiots.

“As you wish, Mr. Alsing,” the man responded.

If she wasn’t mistaken, the guy’s accent was Dutch. “Dr. Sieders, I presume?”

“I see you have been informed of my arrival.” He wore a black overcoat, a suit, and dress shoes. Who wore suits anymore? Or bothered to shine their shoes? “I had hoped this would go peacefully, Sheriff Lawson.”

Her sensor array pinged, and Ship said, “I have notified your territorial emissary Hurst MarelJorik of the situation. He is coming to negotiate on your behalf. Stall for four point two minutes.”

Hurst was a Shipborn emissary. She had no idea how he could help Terrans negotiate with each other, but she’d take what she could get.

“It can still go peacefully,” she assured Sieders while listening to Ship. GUN was pointing, well, guns at them. Did Hurst plan to spirit Adam away from here if they tried to take him? What kind of trouble would that cause?

“That depends on your cooperation,” Sieders said. “I have paperwork signed by the Global Union Ambassadors already on file with your mayor permitting the retrieval and quarantine of Adam Alsing. It’s all quite official.”

She tried not to alter her expression when Hurst chimed in on the channel Ship was using. Only she could hear him, but the situation was nerve-wracking.

“I believe I can negotiate a satisfactory accord,” Hurst assured her. Of all the Shipborn emissaries assigned as liaisons to the various territories on the planet, he’d immersed himself the most deeply in Terran culture and its people. Claire suspected he was a sly one, though most people considered him harmless and goofy. “I have a way with Terrans. Fear not.”

If she replied to Hurst, Sieders and his men would notice her array. It tended to go mostly invisible in her thick hair and shouldn’t glow as long as she only used it to receive messages.

“How much do you know about Adam, Dr. Sieders?” She didn’t lower her hands; she could shoot with a blaster band from almost any position. “Did you read the report from the Shipborn stating that Adam’s not a threat? I can arrange for you to meet the scientists. They’re just outside of town.”

Sarah and Cullin’s report had been distributed to the heads of governments and other interested parties yesterday. Clearly their attempt to get in front of the rumor mill with facts hadn’t worked all that great with GUN.

The doctor removed a sheaf of paper from an inner pocket. “Regardless of what the report claimed, the Union is troubled by what the Chosen…Mr. Alsing’s return means, even if the Shipborn aren’t.”

“Nobody said they weren’t troubled,” she corrected. “The scientists are busy dissecting a pod like the one he was found in.”

“Yet they have no answers.” Sieders checked over the paperwork. “Lieutenant Edgar?”

Soldiers emerged around the building, some up in the rafters, all pointing their guns at Adam and her. The one wearing an officer’s uniform moved to stand beside Sieders.

“Jesus, Sieders, I’m a badass, but this many guys is overkill,” Claire remarked. What had GUN expected to encounter? An army?

The Shipborn?