rest of that day and almost made it to dawn of the next. When he grew restless, he climbed down from his bunk. Ash and Mira both lay in their beds. Chace too. He had come in with the aid worker last night. When he’d spotted Rykus, he’d muttered a string of curses, then climbed into the bed above Mira’s.
Rykus silently slipped from the room.
Though it was predawn, Requiem House stirred. Devout Seekers tended to be early risers. They completed their morning rituals, then prepared for a day of prayer and helping others.
He grunted greetings to the too-cheerful men and women he passed and found his way to the dining room. A scattering of Seekers sat at three long tables. He wasn’t in the mood for company, but he needed food. Ash did too, and he didn’t expect her to sleep much longer.
He headed to a door on the opposite end of the room, expecting to find the kitchen. Instead, he entered a smaller dining area holding a table surrounded by eight chairs. Emmit was the only person there. He stood at a counter making hand-pressed coffee.
“Good morning,” Emmit said. “Coffee?”
Rykus tried to forget that this was the man who’d kissed Ash and palmed her ass. Emmit had coffee, and Rykus had a lifetime practicing self-control. He could be polite. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Have a seat.” Emmit motioned to the table. “The kitchen will be switching over to mass producing for the homeless outside, but I can have Logan make you a tray.”
“If he could make one for Ash as well, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.” He finished pressing the coffee, poured it into two cups, then brought one to Rykus.
“So, you and Ash…” Emmit faded off, waiting for Rykus to finish the sentence.
Rykus accepted the mug and met the Seeker’s eyes with an expression that clearly communicated Yes. Me and Ash. But all he said out loud was, “I watch her back,” then he took a sip of his coffee.
Damn, that was good stuff. Much better than the machine-made crap served on Coalition bases and vessels. Made it a little hard to remain pissed at the Seeker.
“I thought Scius had killed her,” Emmit said quietly.
“People keep mentioning his name.” Rykus pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you know about him?”
Emmit tapped something into his comm-cuff. Most Devout Seekers didn’t wear the tech. It didn’t surprise Rykus that this one did. Emmit didn’t seem quite as devout as his father.
He sat opposite Rykus. “Breakfast will be here in a few minutes.”
“Scius,” Rykus said, his tone making it clear he wouldn’t drop the subject.
Emmit lifted a shoulder. “He’s the boss of Brightwater, the biggest precinct on the planet. He controls access to the spaceport and the North Causeway, and he’s able to silence communication and data transfers pretty much whenever he wants. People know not to piss him off.”
“But Ash did,” Rykus said.
Emmit nodded. “I don’t know what exactly she did to trigger him, but he went after her and every dreg she associated with. He slaughtered most of them. Some made deals to survive. Everyone was on edge, and for five years, not a soul mentioned her name. She was dead. People said they saw her body.”
“He won’t stop until he kills her then.”
“Theoretically, she’s safe here, but theoretically, Scius wouldn’t shoot up a spaceport to get to her. That was him, wasn’t it? On the platform three days ago?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s becoming more brazen.”
“The government won’t do anything about him?” Rykus asked. If he understood correctly, Glory was ruled by an oligarchy, a small, select group of citizens who created and enforced the world’s laws.
Emmit shook his head. “A few years ago, they might have spoken out, but now every one of them is indebted to Scius. If they don’t look the other way, they won’t keep their cushy government positions. They might not even survive to the end of their terms.”
“He owns the commanders of the Coalition’s outposts too?” he asked.
“They’re more loyal to Scius than the oligarchy.” He looked past Rykus.
“Still wanting to beg for rescue?” Chace asked, entering the small dining room with Mira at his side.
“Don’t start,” Mira said.
Chace ignored her. “I already told you they’re corrupt. Ash told you they’re corrupt.” His stance was aggressive. So was the small step he took toward Rykus. “You going to keep asking around until you find someone who says they aren’t?”
Rykus didn’t stand, but he pushed his chair back from the table. If Chace took that as an invitation to brawl… Well, he wouldn’t be wrong.
He kept his hand wrapped around his coffee mug and returned Chace’s icy glare. “I’m going to ask questions until I get Ash off this planet. If you have intel to help with that, share it. Otherwise, keep your input to yourself.”
Emmit cleared his throat. “Fighting is one way to get your sanctuary revoked. Why don’t you grab some coffee, Chace?”
“Not thirsty.”
Rykus took a long sip from his mug.
Mira put her hand on Chace’s arm. “Come on. This isn’t solving anything.” She tugged him toward the coffeepot.
“I think we can solve a lot of things,” Chace said.
The man wanted to goad him into making the first move. What did he think that would accomplish? Other than Rykus tearing him apart?
It usually took a lot to set him off. Ash had the unique ability to do it in three seconds flat, but she was Ash. No one else was like her.
Deliberately dismissing Chace, he turned his attention to Mira. “Ash is still asleep?”
“Ash is taking a shower,” Chace said. “She likes them long and hot.”
Rykus set down his coffee and—
“I like a lot of things long and hot.” Ash sauntered into the room, stopped by Rykus’s chair, and bent toward him. “You want to join me next time? I’d love the company.”
He wasn’t prepared for the kiss. He wasn’t prepared for her sweet, clean scent or the deep, demanding brush of her tongue against his. Her hair was damp, her skin warm and moist from the shower.
She looped one hand behind his neck, placed the other high enough on his thigh that blood pumped to his groin. He knew what this was. Ash had slipped into her old skin. She’d become the teasing, sensuous, sexy-as-hell siren who’d survived Glory and given him hell on Caruth. This was a character, a role she was playing to show the others she was the same free-loving woman who’d left this planet. He should be offended by the act. He should be pissed for being made a part of it. He should be indignant and irritated and a hundred of other things, but when that hand edged closer to where he wanted it and she pulled his lower lip between her teeth, all he could think was fuuuuuck.
Too soon, she put her hand on his chest, preventing him from following when she eased back. She gave him a smile that made him want to tear her tank top off. Then she squeezed his thigh one last time and strolled away.
The dining room exploded back into existence with an almost audible boom.
He watched her walk to the coffeepot. The moment she was healthy and they were safe, he would make her regret that stunt. He’d make her regret it again and again and—
A chuckle pulled his attention to his left. Chace crossed his arms, leaned against a counter, and shook his head in a way that clearly said, You poor bastard.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Ash said, pressing a kiss to Emmit’s cheek before handing one of the two mugs she’d poured to Chace. “Sit down and shut up.”
The mug almost fell. Chace saved it, sloshing a good amount of brew over the cup’s rim.
Ash pulled out the chair between Rykus and Mira and sat. Someone—Logan, Rykus presumed—pushed a cart into the room. Emmit had had the foresight to ask for breakfast for all of them. He helped Logan place the trays on the table, thanked the other Seeker, then took the chair to Rykus’s right. Chace might not have wanted to sit at the same table as him, but the lure of the food was too much. He took the chair opposite Rykus.
They ate in silence. The hand-cooked eggs and vegetable medley were almost as good as the coffee. Three types of bread and an assortment of cheeses filled a second plate on each tray. If they hadn’t been famished, it would have been a ridiculous amount of food.
Forks clanked against plates. At one point, Ash rose to pour herself a second cup of coffee. Rykus watched her walk to the counter and back, well aware that Chace was focused on him.
Ash sank back into her chair. Rykus continued eating, attempting to ignore Ash when she looked back and forth between him and Chace.
She poked her fork into a purple vegetable. “I think you two should fight it out.”
“I’m in,” Chace said.
Rykus gave her his best unamused expression.
“Really,” she said. “This tension is bad for your health.”
“No fighting policy,” Emmit reminded her.
“No one has to tell Bian.” She set down her fork and stretched, causing her tank to rise, revealing a strip of her flat stomach.
“Don’t give him an excuse to boot you,” Emmit said.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She ran her fingers through her shower-damp hair, then began twisting it into a thin braid over her left shoulder.
“That’s new,” Emmit said.
Ash’s fingers paused. She glanced down, seemed to become aware of what she was doing, then she looked at him.
A smile fought for control of his mouth. That braid was a token that said she was his. She’d started wearing it on Caruth, back before the loyalty training when her sole intention had been to set him off. It had worked, but she’d continued wearing it because, she’d said, it reminded her of him.
“You’re feeling better,” Rykus said.
“It’s amazing what a day and a half of sleep will do for you.” She finished the braid and gave him a warm smile. She erased it quickly though and focused behind him.
A different kind of grin spread across her face. “Good morning, pops.”
Emmit’s father entered the kitchen. He froze when he saw Ash and looked like he was about to leave. Instead, he squared his shoulders and crossed the room to the counter.
“I took the last of the coffee,” Ash practically purred. Bian glared over his shoulder. Ash brought her mug to her lips for a loud slurp.
This must have been where Ash perfected her trigger-an-outrage skills. Bian looked like he wanted to shed his patriarch persona and wrap his hands around her throat. Rykus knew the feeling. Those little looks, the strategically chosen words and tone, they all combined into a package designed to destroy the steadiest composures.
Rykus didn’t want to see the patriarch lose his shit, so he pushed his chair back from the table. “I was going to make a new pot.”
“What will it take to get you off this planet?” Bian said the words through gritted teeth.
Ash leaned forward and rested her arms on the table. “Well, I don’t know. You should talk to Chace about that. He really, really wants me to stay.”
“Ash,” Rykus rumbled. Her wide, innocent eyes shifted to him. “Too much.”
“Who are you?” Bian demanded, turning on him. “You’re not the usual scum she associates with.”
“No, Patriarch,” he said. “I’m not.”
Bian went still at the emphasis on his title. It seemed to realign him. He closed his eyes and took a slow, meditative breath.
“My apologies,” Bian said. “You are welcome in this House. What can we do to help you on your journey?”
Rykus rinsed the glass coffeepot. “When the next capsule arrives, we could use transportation. You’re permitted humanitarian travel, correct?”
“We import supplies and donations. Sometimes Seekers come and go, but we provide a complete passenger manifest, and we follow the rules. That’s why we’re permitted direct flights between the local launch platform and the capsule. If the bosses learned we violated our agreement, they’d kick us off-planet.”
“Is there anything space-worthy at the break yards?” Ash asked.
Bian half looked at her and glared. “We’re not risking our immunity.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t trace us to you.”
“And how will you do that?” Bian practically spat. “The launch will light up this district and narrow his search area. We will have a big red target on our roof.”
“No one would have to worry about Scius if we took him out.” Chace delivered the words as casually as if he was suggesting a stroll, not a murder.
“We’re staying away from Scius,” Ash said.
“He’s not staying away from you.”
Chace and Ash stared at each other. Rykus watched the silent war. He knew Ash’s mission, her true focus of this trip home. It made sense that she wouldn’t want to become entangled in other messes, but his gut told him there was more to it than that. He’d never known Ash to shy away from a difficult situation. She was a fight first, ask questions later type of person, and she thought she was invincible. This Scius sounded like someone she’d want to take down, not someone she would run from.
He measured the freshly ground coffee beans and added them to the press.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Emmit said.
“Emmit,” Bian snapped. “You have things to do. Go.”
“If we help them take out—”
“They’re speaking of murder! There will be no discussion of this. Attend to your duties.”
“But—”
“Out. Now.” Bian’s face turned an impressive shade of red.
Glaring at his father, Emmit rose from the table. “An SG-220 landed a few days ago. They haven’t started breaking it apart yet.”
He shoved his chair under the table and left the room.
Rykus added water to the grounds, then pushed down on the lever, lowering a solid glass plunger that slowly pressed the water through the filter. “We don’t want to cause you trouble.”
“Ash always causes trouble,” Bian said. “Her presence here risks our immunity already.”
“I understand.” Rykus poured coffee into a mug, then handed it to the patriarch. “We’ll find somewhere else to stay until the next capsule arrives.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Chace said, his voice tight. Rykus didn’t look at the other man, but he could feel his eyes lasering into the back of his head.
“That’s unnecessary,” Bian said begrudgingly. “Another capsule has already arrived in system.”
“That’s… quick,” Ash said. She met Rykus’s gaze. “Capsules never arrive back-to-back here. They’re more likely to skip Glory than to stay on schedule. I can’t remember the last time two showed in one week. Unless this is a new thing?” She looked at Chace.
He was frowning too. “No.”
Either this was a coincidence of interstellar proportions or something else caused the capsule to jump to Glory.
A wave of apprehension went through him. The capsule’s arrival was good news—he’d been waiting for the next data dump, worried about his family and how things were going on Javery—but it also signified something else.
He watched Ash, noted the way she’d moved to the edge of her chair, noted the eagerness in her eyes and the anticipation radiating from her like heat from a star. For the past three days, they’d been trying to survive. Her attention had been focused on that, but something had seemed off, like she was a transport veering a degree off a very specific path. Now she’d realigned her trajectory. She was sure she’d reached that next waypoint, and he agreed. There was one likely explanation for the capsule’s arrival.
Ash had finally caught Neilan Tahn’s attention.