Rebels and Lovers (48 page)

“Let Makaiden go,” Devin repeated. “Put away the guns. You don’t need them.”

Emotions flashed over Ethan’s face, the tightness of his mouth relaxing. Abruptly, he turned away and stalked toward the dark-blue half-circle sofa that curved out of the port bulkhead.

He spun back. “No, not this time. Not anymore. You’re not talking me out of it, shoving some mindless business assignment at me, sending me to this office or that, just to keep me busy. Keep Ethan out of trouble.” His voice rose in a false and bitter mimicry. Then he sobered. “Big changes are coming to GGS, D.J. Power is shifting and, guess what? It’s shifting to me. Father’s been trying to get concessions out of Tage for years. He failed. Tage won’t even talk to Jonathan. But I did it. Me. Ethan Guthrie.” He jabbed his index finger at his chest.

“Ethan, you can’t—” Devin caught himself before he said,
You can’t make deals for GGS with Tage or anyone. You’re a corporate officer only on paper. You have no authority
.

Ethan knew all that. Too well.

“You can’t think we wouldn’t be proud of any important deal you made,” Devin amended. But it was too late.

Ethan laughed. “You’re such a fucking liar.” He looked at Kiler. “Where in hell’s Gerker? I need the kid here before the stripers show up.”

Kiler shook his head. “No, you don’t.” He pointed to Devin. “You have him. Let the stripers get the
Rider’s
location out of him. You just hand them proof he killed Halsey and funded Trip’s kidnapping. They’ll do the rest.”

“Proof I did
what?”
This time Devin shot to his feet, heart pounding, mouth suddenly dry.

“Sit
down,”
Ethan bellowed. Fuzz lunged forward, teeth bared.

Devin stood his ground, but inside he shook with rage. This was crazy. Ethan was crazy. Why would they want it to look as if he was the one who wanted to hurt Trip? Then he remembered the small news article Makaiden had unearthed, the one stating the police already had leads in the case. Leads Ethan provided them? “I had nothing to do with Halsey—”

“You paid for an assassin.” Ethan’s voice was oily. “I have copies of the financial records. Records you tried to destroy by ordering the bombing of your own offices while you went after Trip yourself.”

“There are no such records. There never were!”

“There are if you know the right codes to gain access and create them.”

Devin stared at the man who was his brother, no longer recognizing him. This was not the Ethan who challenged him to swimming races as a child or traded music vids with him as a teen. This was not the Ethan he’d shared breakfast and dinner with almost every day of the first twelve years of his life and almost weekly for a decade thereafter. This was not,
could
not, be his brother.

Makaiden leaned forward on the table, her hands clasped together. “You sabotaged the security and communications systems on your father’s estate,” she said quietly.

Ethan’s smile made Devin feel ill.

Just because I don’t have all the degrees you and Devin have doesn’t mean I’m stupid
.

Ethan wasn’t stupid. Desperate, yes. Twisted, yes. But he wasn’t stupid. Devin thought of the other
hacker he’d intercepted a few days ago poking around in Trip’s accounts, just as he was. Ethan.

Devin lowered himself into his chair. The last thing he wanted to do now was appear threatening, and, even though he was younger, he was taller than Ethan. He took a cue from Makaiden—pull back, speak softly. Analyze. Gather facts.

“Why, Ethan? Why me?”

“Father was going to give you the entire Baris division. Hell of a wedding present. You didn’t know that, did you?”

GGS–Baris?
That was a multitrillion-credit enterprise. Being Garno CFO was one thing. But owning the entire Guthrie operation in Baris—the manufacturing facilities, the export centers, the raw-materials acquisition and distribution … Even to Devin, that was staggering.

And wrong. “Father would never split up GGS—”

“An inoperable brain tumor makes you do funny things. He didn’t know I overheard his conversations with his doctor and Chanoy from Legal. He’s got six months, maybe a year. He changed his will. Jonathan gets GGS–Aldan. You get GGS–Baris. Philip gets GGS–Marker, and Trippy—
Trippy
—gets GGS–Garno. He’s fucking nineteen years old.

“And do you know what I get? The Guthrie Commerce Development Center in Port Palmero. That’s it. A goddamned conference center with, what, a dozen hotels? Two dozen office complexes? J.M. makes me a goddamned landlord, unless … unless”—he leaned on the edge of the table, bringing his face down to Devin’s—“unless you die or are incapacitated. Then I get GGS–Baris. Okay, I have to share it with Marguerite and Hannah, but I can get around that. Tage is
going to help me get around that.” He shoved himself back, his smile smug.

“You’re going to kill me.” Devin couldn’t believe he was saying those words.

“I don’t have to. You’re going to be tried and convicted of murder and attempted kidnapping. Probably arson too.” Ethan shrugged. “You’ll sit in maximum lockup for the rest of your life. And I get Baris.” His eyes narrowed. “I deserve Baris.”

“You’re going to kill Jonathan and Trippy? Marguerite too?”

Another shrug. “Tage has a timetable. I have plans for GGS. He has plans for the Empire. We work well together.”

“And does any of this involve delivering Philip to Tage?”

“Philip’s a traitor to the Empire. A blot on the Guthrie name. Father should have disowned him.”

Tage is the traitor
, Devin wanted to say but didn’t. It wouldn’t do any good.

A pocket comm chimed softly. Kiler pulled the small comm off his belt and held it to his ear, his Stinger still in his right hand.

Ethan glanced at him. Kiler shook his head, then frowned.

“Vaughn,” Kiler said, holding the pocket comm in Ethan’s direction. “You’d better talk to him.”

The table in front of Devin jiggled slightly. He shot a glance at Makaiden and felt her foot tap his. She wanted his attention on something. Her chin was propped against her left hand, elbow on the table. Her right hand—

He realized she was leaning to one side, collapsing into herself as if she was afraid, tired.

He dropped his left hand to the chair’s edge, felt her
fingers grab his and tug. He angled forward, wiping one hand over his face to cover the movement. Then his fingers found the metal centerpost and, with her guidance, the locking metal ring that secured the tabletop to the post.

A ring that could be unlocked—
was
unlocked—to remove the top for repair or maintenance, just like the deck-locked chairs and sofa.

The wooden top was heavy but unlocked. He and Makaiden could lift it. Shove it. Laser fire would penetrate it, but it would also give them the element of surprise. And maybe, just maybe, knock Kiler and Fuzz off their feet, pin them to the decking. He could handle Ethan.

He gave her hand a quick squeeze, then leaned back. She’d given him an option, a diversion. Their only recourse. But they’d have to do it before Gerker, Vaughn, and the stripers arrived.

Ethan turned his back on them and, pocket comm still to his ear, stalked toward the front of the ship. Kiler glanced once, then again, after Ethan’s retreating figure. Whatever Kiler heard on the pocket comm had him worried. And distracted.

They wouldn’t get another chance.

Devin crossed his legs, lifting the tabletop off the post with one knee. Makaiden was leaning on it, then her weight suddenly disappeared. She continued to feign distress, but her hand under the table helped to hold the top steady.

Kiler looked over his shoulder again.

“Now.” Devin breathed the word.

He shoved the wooden tabletop up and out, dropping back into a crouch the minute he felt it leave his fingers. It slid hard over the backs of the deck-locked dining chairs opposite him, then jettisoned forward.

He lunged. Makaiden lunged. The table slammed into Kiler’s back, knocking him to the decking, but it only clipped Fuzz.

And Ethan was shouting, running back toward them.

Kaidee had one goal and one goal only: get a pistol. Any weapon. Her arms and shoulders ached from lifting the tabletop, but she didn’t care. She wanted a weapon, and she was going to kill that slagging bastard Ethan. If Devin didn’t do it first.

She landed hard on her knees, then on one elbow, pain searing through her, but she pushed up in a tight crouch like a competitive runner. Kiler was sprawled, groaning, to her right. Devin was next to her but the next moment he was a blur, launching himself at Fuzz-face. She heard a crash, a thud, hard breaths, and low grunts.

She lunged for Kiler, seeing the glint of her L7 just under his shoulder. She put her knee in the middle of his shoulder blades and snatched the L7, flicking it from stun to kill. There wasn’t time to aim. She fired at the man barreling toward her.

Ethan dove to the right, ending up behind a couch. The laser’s energy flared past him, scarring a forward bulkhead.

She took aim again, approximating his position. A hand grabbed her ankle. Kiler. She kicked him, falling on her ass as he clawed his way up her leg. She jerked the L7 around.

His eyes went wide and it was as if time stopped, the grunts and thuds receding, her vision narrowing, and it was only Kaidee and Kiler.

“Kaidee. Please.” His voice was pained. The tabletop still covered the lower half of his body. But his
GGS uniform—the one he had no right to wear, the one he’d forced her to lose—was clearly visible.

“You son of a bitch.” She flicked the L7 to stun and hit him with the full charge. He went limp, his hand falling from her ankle.

She found she was shaking and grateful to be sitting down.
Don’t make me regret not killing you
.

A body slammed into her from behind, then yanked her back. Ethan. His arm locked around her neck, catching her in a choke hold. She rose halfway up on her feet, gasping, flailing at him with her left hand.

“Give me the pistol!” He grabbed her arm.

She let the force of his movement send the L7 sailing across the main cabin.

“Bitch!” He dragged her, squirming, to her feet.

Only then could she see that Fuzz-face was a bloody, beaten mess under Devin’s knee, his gaping mouth showing teeth missing. The Stinger in Devin’s hand was pressed against Fuzz’s temple.

Ethan’s breath was harsh in her ear. “Drop the pistol, D.J., or she dies.”

Blood trickled down Devin’s forehead from a cut near his hairline; there was another cut on his left cheek. His glasses were skewed. But his lips thinned, and his eyes were hard. His voice carried an unmistakable deadly note. “If she dies, he dies.”

“I don’t give a damn about him.” Ethan kicked Kiler’s still form. Kiler’s head rolled to one side. Devin’s Carver was underneath. “She hits the decking, I grab that, I kill you. Simple.”

Kaidee didn’t like the sound of simple. She locked her hands around Ethan’s arm, yanking it away from her windpipe. His muscles were like metal rods. All those years of sailing, pulling heavy sheets and riggings, had
paid off. She dug her nails into his skin. He didn’t flinch.

Neither did Devin. His gaze never left her face.

Ethan jerked her upright another painful inch. “Your call, D.J. Drop the gun or I break her neck.”

Kaidee pulled again on Ethan’s arm but this time slipped one hand inside the upper pocket of her jacket. The cylindrical hypos were slick under her fingers, but she’d done this a dozen times before, reaching blindly into a med-kit to help an injured crew member. She palmed a hypo, thumbing the cap off, then swung her hand up and rammed the dispenser into his forearm, holding the tab down to send all five doses into him.

Ethan roared as the sedative flooded his system, but she was already fumbling in her pocket for the other one. This one she flipped over, dispenser down, and, as he pounded his fist into her midsection, rammed it—gasping, choking, eyes streaming—into his thigh.

He arched back, lifting her feet off the decking, but it was enough for her to wriggle free. She dropped to her knees, sucking air, tears blinding her, and grabbed for the Carver. The whine of a Stinger set to kill sounded over her head.

“Makaiden!” Devin’s voice was raw. Ethan hit the decking with a sickening thud as Devin lowered the Stinger.

Wrapping her fingers around the Carver’s muzzle, Kaidee dragged herself up on one knee. And saw darkness descending. “Behind you!”

Devin spun, catching Fuzz in the neck with his elbow. The man collapsed against a dining chair with a horrid gurgling sound, then went limp, falling to the floor.

It was suddenly quiet, except for her own rasping, rattling breath and the blood pounding in her ears. She
shoved the Carver into her weapons belt, her hands shaking.

Dear God. The inside of the
Prosperity
, one of the most beautiful ships in the GGS fleet, looked like a war zone.

Devin holstered the Stinger, then grabbed her arm, bringing her to her feet. His hands roamed quickly over her body, as if he was assuring himself she was really alive. “Are you hurt? You’re all right?”