The Scarlet Empress (27 page)

“I can’t tell you!”

“Listen, Bree. You’ve got to trust me.”

She swallowed, her mouth dry. “I’m not sure I trust anyone right now.”

He flinched, as if her words had hit him like physical blows. “I don’t know what they did to you in here, if they turned you against me, but I’m here to get you out. There’s a supply truck waiting downstairs in the depot. We’ll get in the back and get the hell out. Up here, we’re trapped. If you go out on that roof, we’re dead.”

Her aim didn’t waver. She wanted so much to believe him. Then she thought of Lee-lee, and it took all she had not to pistol-whip the man.

Thwap, thwap, thwap.
She jerked her attention to the open roof door. One thing that hadn’t changed much in 170 years was the sound of a chopper.

“Goddamn,” Ty’s friend muttered. “He’s here already? Two fucking hours early! I’m going out to meet him. Whatever you do, stay hidden—and keep her hidden—until I get everyone down from the roof and inside.”

His friend departed, presumably for a different way out to the roof. Ty turned back to Bree. “That’s my father in the heli-jet. He’ll have a security detail with him that won’t be interested in getting you anywhere but out in front of a firing squad.”

“Who’s your friend?” she asked.

“He commands this prison.”

“But he’s helping you help me.”

“He’s on our side, Bree. Ninety percent of the guards working here are. They saw your trial. I saw it, too. Before, you fought with missiles; now you fight with passion. You’ve inspired the entire colony, Bree, and much of the world.”

“Everyone keeps saying this. But I’m just me, slogging my way through something I know nothing about.”

“People don’t follow status, Bree. They follow courage.
If you’re willing to lead them to freedom, they’ll follow you. And so will I.”

Her eyes filled. “Ty . . .” Her throat squeezed tight.

He fought a visible struggle to get hold of himself as well. “I love you, Bree. Trust me.”

No one could fake the look in his eyes, the way he gazed at her as if there were nothing in the world more important to him.

She sat back on her haunches, her pistol dangling from one hand. “Where the hell were you?”

Ty was up the ladder with her gathered in his arms before she had a chance to blink. She shoved against him, pummeling his breastplate with her fists. “They beat me. They interrogated me. I waited for you. Why didn’t you come—why?”

Cognizant of her gun, he grabbed her wrists. “I’m here now,” he soothed. “I’m here. I’m not leaving your side. I’m getting you out of here. Out and far away, baby.”

She fell into his embrace, closing her eyes, pressing her cheek to his leather breastplate. He rocked her gently, and she breathed in his scent. Ah, how she loved him. “I guess we’re even now. I got you out of Kyber’s dungeon, and you’re getting me out of this hellhole.”

“Not unless we get moving.” He jerked his chin toward the orange jumpsuit peeking through her guard uniform. “You should get rid of that.”

“I can’t. The Voice of Freedom contacted me using some kind of transmission device in the collar. Except that the Voice never seems to be around when you need her.”

“He’s a she?”

“Well, is she a he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. I decided to pick a gender and stick with it. Less confusing.”

“What did he say, the Voice?”

“That she was working on getting me out of here.”

“That explains this, then.” Ty waved a hand at the open porthole to the roof. “All the doors to the place are unlocked. The security system’s been hacked into somehow, but they can’t trace it. They don’t know who did it. What was supposed to be impossible has happened. Key areas of security are disabled, but not all of them.”

“When did it start?”

“Right after I got here.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not. The few guards who showed up for work today are outside guarding the exits.”

“Not all,” she muttered. “One’s handcuffed to my cell.”

His mouth tipped crookedly. “Why am I not surprised?” He reached for her collar to help fasten the clips to a breastplate, helping hide her jumpsuit. She could feel his body heat. She could smell him. Every cell in her body reacted. She could block out so many things, but never him. Never Ty.

Her eyes lifted to his, and she saw how dark his eyes had become. A jolt of attraction shot between them, but this was neither the place nor the time to do anything about it.

He grabbed her by the upper arms. “We’ve got to go, Bree. We’ve got to do it now. Chico’s busy distracting my father. If the security system comes back up, it’s going to get ugly for us. Let’s get out while we can.”

She shook her head when he tugged her toward the
ladder. “No, not down. Up. The Voice told me to look to the sky and I’d know what to do. I think she means the roof.”

“That’s suicide!”

“Is it?” She pushed away from Ty and went to the circular door. Crouching, her weapon drawn, she peeked around the door frame. The heli-jet sat in a painted circle in the middle of the roof. Wind rushed past, pushed by the spin of the vertical engines. In edgy, tense silence, they watched a severe-looking man dressed in a crisp black trench coat and a high-crowned, General Patton– type hat trimmed in patent leather storm away from the craft. He had sharp cheekbones and a hard mouth, and looked as impossible and arrogant as she knew he was. It was easy to see why many said the Ax had designs on the UCE presidency, wanting to install a military dictatorship in its place—with him in charge, of course.

Ty’s friend Chico and another officer escorted the general off the roof. The heli-jet pilot followed a few moments later. The whine of the engines faded as they spun slower and slower.

“That’s it,” she cried, turning to Ty. “That’s what the Shadow Voice meant. The heli-jet. We’re supposed to hijack it. The Voice must have known somehow that it’d be left here, unguarded.”

“It’s ideal. The craft has weapons and stealth tech—the best the UCE has, and probably even more equipment than I’m guessing. We’ll be invisible to anyone tracking us.” Ty’s face lit up. “I’m going to fly my father’s heli-jet to his house.”

“His house . . . ? I think we need a better idea.”

“No. It’s the house I grew up in—in Montana. It’s
locked up tighter than Fort Powell ever was. Better than that, no one would expect we’d have the gall to go there, particularly my father.”

“Okay.” Bree’s heart was beating hard. “We’ve got the plan, the means, and the motivation. But do you know how to fly that thing? I don’t.”

“I’ve got a couple of thousand hours flight time in helijets. Haven’t flown in a while, but—”

“I don’t care! Let’s go!”

Guns at the ready, they burst through the door and into the cold, predawn air. Hands clasped together, they bolted for the heli-jet.

A voice pierced the silence. “Freeze!”

Bree swung her attention around to the source of the sound. Behind her was a UCE guard, his arms extended, a rifle aimed right between her eyes.

Outside the palace, Kyber crouched. Dressed in black, he knew he was almost impossible to see when he stood, swinging a cablelike rope over his head. His heart thumped hard, and he knew it wasn’t from the jog through the shadowy palace grounds. He would soon show Cam that there was nothing more he could do for Banzai, but oh, so much he could do for her.

“Kublai, on second thought, this isn’t such a good idea,” Cam said. “If we get caught, I’ll probably get a scolding, but you’ll get fired. Or worse.”

“Impossible, pretty one.”

“Lack of self-confidence has never been an issue for you, has it?”

Only where you are concerned,
he wanted to say. With a grunt of effort, he threw the rope to the balcony high above.

It hooked around the railing. Kyber tested it. “It’s good. Now you simply hold on and the rope will carry us up.”

Her mouth twisted as she gazed skeptically at the rope dangling from the balcony. “And if he meets us at the top? The flesh-eating prince?”

“He does not eat human flesh!” Kublai lowered his voice. “No more than I . . .” He drew her close and kissed her, a hungry, deep kiss. She giggled, a muffled laugh against his mouth, until the heat took her, too.

Sometime into the embrace, driven by a sixth sense, Kyber pulled away from Cam to find his bemused chief of security walking up to them. Nikolai peered at them as if his vision had somehow failed him. “Kublai?”

At least the man had the wherewithal to remember to call him by his alias. “Nazeem, greetings. Out enjoying the pleasant evening, too, I see.”

“It is a rather . . . warm night for this time of year, I see.” The smile was in Nikolai’s tone rather than on his face. “I suspected you might be out strolling in the gardens, so I thought I’d have a look.”

Kyber knew what the chief really meant was that the prox-beacon embedded in Kublai’s clothing showed him sneaking about the palace gardens at night, and the chief wanted to make sure the clothes were still on Kyber’s back and not some intruder’s. Had they not been on Kyber, he’d have alerted palace security immediately and raised a barrier around the gardens, preventing escape.

Cam appeared quite happy to see the chief. There had always been a quiet respect between the two. “Are you on your way out? Nice suit.”

“Thank you.” The chief ran a hand down the crisp, dark gray collarless outfit he wore daily. It was a far cry from his dusty Rim Rider wear. He looked to have wanted to return the compliment, but couldn’t seem to form one
that would suit Cam’s disheveled, though rather adorable, appearance. Her white shirt was dirty and snagged in several places, and dark stains on her silk pants confirmed her collision with a wall of kimchi pots. “So, what are you two doing at this late hour?” he asked casually.

“Breaking in, if you can believe it,” she confided.

“Oh, I can believe it,” the chief said with a stern glance in Kyber’s direction.

“You Rim Riders are definitely the kingdom’s bad boys.”

Nikolai lifted a brow at Kyber. The man had an impressive range of nonverbal communication, and it was clear he didn’t approve of their lies extending beyond their now-ended mission as Rim Riders.
I hadn’t intended for it to be so, either, Niko.

But he’d rectify that tonight. “She wants her audience with the prince, Nazeem, and I intend to give it to her.”

“I see. With all due respect, Your H—” The chief stopped himself before he blurted out the royal title. Before he began again, his gaze settled on Cam, warmed, then cooled as he returned his attention to Kyber. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

With sudden and unaccustomed qualms, Kyber hoped so, too.

Nikolai turned to Cam. “A pleasant evening to you.”

“And to you,” she replied.

He hesitated, then said, “Yours is a true heart; have the courage to follow it.”

Cam watched the chief go, her puzzlement obvious. “Why do I always get the feeling that your communication with Nazeem exists on two levels—the conversation I hear, and the one that’s really taking place?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“Well, yes.”

“Because I’m really the emperor and he’s the chief of palace security.”

Cam snorted. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked.”

Kyber tugged on the rope. That was the dress rehearsal, he thought. He hoped the live performance went better.

He placed the rope in her hands and hooked the supports under the soles of her shoes. Gripping the rope, he stepped behind her and did the same. “Up,” he commanded, and their feet shot off the grass.

They slowed as they reached the balcony. “Vault over the railing,” he told her. “On my count, one . . . two . . . three.”

They flew over the railing and landed in a heap on the floor of the balcony. “He had to have heard that,” she whispered loudly, her blue eyes wide with alarm.

“He’s not in his chambers,” Kyber said briskly.

“How can you be sure?”

“You’ll see.” He opened the French doors that led to his private bedchamber. A floor of rough-hewn wooden planks bore the muted sheen of hand-waxing, reflecting the fire crackling in his fireplace. His rooms were decorated differently from the rest of the palace, more to his personal taste, both as an ode to his barbarian ancestors and to conjure the sense of freedom he experienced when on the road as Kublai.

“Wow,” Cam whispered. “This is beautiful. The rumors may color him evil, but he’s got great taste.”

Kyber smiled.

“Look at that bed—fur blankets! What I wouldn’t give to spend a night under those.”

“Wish and you shall have it, pretty one.”

She flashed him a look. “And risk him coming back here and catching us? No, thanks.”

He faced her, clasping her hands in his. “I’m the prince,” he said in a low voice.

Cam rolled her eyes. “You used that joke already.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Her expression grew serious. “Okay . . .”

“I am Prince Kyber of the Hans, acting emperor of all Asia. I rode out to the Rim in my alter ego, Kublai, because I didn’t trust anyone else to the task of bringing you safely back to the palace. It turns out I cannot even trust myself, at least not around you. I never planned for this to happen. I never planned to develop feelings for you.”

She merely stared at him, dumbstruck.

He took advantage of her shock to reverse the effects of the nanopigment on his skin, and watched her expression grow even more incredulous as the tattoo faded. Then he removed the colored lenses masking his true eye color and placed the disks in a dish on his bedside table.

“My God. You’re the
prince!
” Then she covered her eyes with her hands. “Sorry, this is taking some time to sink in.”

“I expected it would.”

“I mean, I meet a cute guy, a nice guy—under unusual circumstances, I admit. We click. Having been through a traumatic experience with a capital T, I yearn to have wild and crazy sex with him, even though I’ve known him for less than two weeks, but it doesn’t matter like it would usually matter because there’s a connection, you see, and of course there’s the trauma, which is my excuse for this
behavior if I can’t find any others. So, I pressure him into taking me home and I find out that he’s a prince. Not any prince—the heir to one of the wealthiest and most powerful empires the Earth has ever known.” Her hands flew to her temples. “So, this is what you meant when you said things were complicated.”