Rebels and Lovers (50 page)

“There are always options,” Devin said firmly. “If we run, we die condemned by lies. As long as we’re breathing, we have a chance. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and I’m not saying it won’t take time. But there are worse things than waiting.” His hard expression softened. “I’ve waited years for you, Makaiden. I’m not giving up now.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the raw emotions in his voice. “Just my luck to fall in love with a damned optimist.” Her voice cracked.

His gaze went intense, heated.

The incoming comm link chimed. “It’s the warship,” Barty said, his voice tight.

Kaidee swiveled around, nodded at Barty, then
centered her chair to the pilot’s console again. “I’ll take it here.” She opened the audio link. “This is Captain Makaiden Griggs of the
Void Rider
, in service to Guthrie Global Systems.”

“This is Admiral Philip Guthrie on the Alliance flagship
Hope’s Folly,”
a deep masculine voice boomed. “It’s
damned
good to hear your voice again, Makaiden. If you’ll change course to intercept, we can lock you down to one of our exterior access bays and get you safely out of here. Now let me talk to that conniving, systems-hacking genius brother of mine.”

Devin rose from the chair in the
Folly’s
now near-empty ready room and, with typical Guthrie awkwardness, accepted Philip’s embrace. They were the last to leave—Makaiden, Trip, and Barty had just headed down one deck to their assigned cabins on 2 Forward, giving the brothers some privacy in which to share their grief. It had been an intense three-hour debriefing after an equally intense—but exhilarating—hour and a half of intercepting the 850-ton Stryker-class warship, coordinating hullside docking, securing the
Rider
to the exterior access, and the long, final walk—okay, they’d damned near run—down the narrow airlock corridor to where Devin’s silver-haired brother waited for them in an impeccable Alliance officer’s pale-gray uniform.

With his wife, Rya—also in uniform, a long laser rifle slung across her back.

Devin had no idea Philip had remarried. Rya was not only more than a dozen years his brother’s junior but was the daughter of a former commanding officer. But Devin immediately sensed that spark between Philip and the tall young woman with the curly brown hair—and not just because, in addition to the rifle, she had two more pistols in her weapons holster and the hilt of a knife peeking out of the top of her left boot. Definitely a woman who could claim Philip’s heart.

“Congratulations again on your marriage.” Devin patted Philip’s arm, stepping back.

Philip’s smile was thoughtful. “Rya’s phenomenal.
And congratulations on finding Makaiden again. Focus on what you two have, not on what we’ve lost.”

They’d lost more than just Ben Halsey and Ethan. Their father, J.M., was dead—not from illness but murder. That was a deep loss—a searing pain Devin knew would take a long time to heal. They’d parted on bad terms. Things felt unfinished. And his father might have died believing Devin was responsible for what happened to Halsey and Trip. As long as he lived, Devin would hate Tage for that.

But Ethan wasn’t blameless. Tage’s assassins had gained entry to the Port Palmero estate after Ethan destroyed the house’s security. Petra Frederick had died defending the old man. Other security and servants were dead or wounded.

But others lived, though their lives were about to change drastically. Their mother, Valerie, along with Jonathan, his family, and Ethan’s wife and children, were on their way to Kirro Station, on board a sleek, damned-near-impossible-to-find luxury-yacht-turned-pirate-rig called the
Boru Karn
, with Philip’s ex-wife, Chaz Bergren Sullivan, in command. In tandem with the
Karn
was the
Triumph
, with key Guthrie staff and the children’s pets on board.

Philip had been coordinating the rescue effort with Gabriel “Sully” Sullivan, Chaz’s husband, when the
Karn
intercepted messages going to the
Prosperity
about the plot to frame Devin for the death of Ben Halsey—a plot started weeks ago by Ethan and Tage.

The
Folly and
her P-75 escort under Captain O’Neil’s command spent a shipday playing hide-and-seek with Captain Thurman Anibal’s
Nola Tran
before O’Neil was able to put two small torpedoes into the hull near the
Tran’s
jumpspace engines. The
Tran
fled, and Philip once again picked up the
Rider’s
trail.

Now the
Folly
would head for Kirro, where another family reunion would take place.

“It’ll be good to have you on board,” Philip said. “Makaiden too. We have a top-notch Takan helmsman—he’s not much older than Trip. He’ll help her and Trip get familiar with ship’s systems. You and Con Welford can swap illegal computer hacks that I don’t even want to know about.”

“You going to put me through boot-camp training first?”

Philip snorted. “You mean again, don’t you?”

“Just as long as I get to be an admiral.”

“Stay out of trouble in boot camp and you might make lieutenant commander.” Philip’s voice was stern, but his mouth was twitching. He nodded toward the corridor. “Makaiden’s waiting for you. Relax, get your bodies synchronized to shiptime. Dinner’s in the executive mess in”—he glanced at the time stamp on the ready room’s wall screen—“three hours.”

“My body tells me three hours is just about time for breakfast.”

“My point exactly,” Philip said. He reached the door—gray metal, very utilitarian, just like everything else Devin had seen so far of the
Folly
—and pushed the palm pad. “I’m going to spend a little time with Trip—he has a lot of adjustments to make—and then check in on Barty in sick bay. Three hours, executive mess, Commander Guthrie. That’s an order.”

“You are such a pain in the ass, Philip,” Devin murmured, following his older brother into the corridor.

“I give demerits for insubordination.”

“I’m not worried,” Devin said, as they took the stairs down to Deck 2 Forward. “I’ll just hack into your files and wipe my record clean.”

“That will piss off my chief of security. Not to mention your sister-in-law.”

“They’re the same person.”

“Then you’re really in trouble.”

A large white cat with a black tail and one black ear suddenly raced toward them down the corridor, heading for the stairwell they’d just exited. Devin didn’t know if he was more surprised by the cat or by the fact that Philip saluted the beast. “What in hell’s that?”

“
He
is Captain Folly. Show respect to your superior officers, Commander. You’ve just earned another demerit.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“About the cat or the demerit?”

“Both.”

“Nope.”

This corridor, unlike the bridge deck above, was carpeted—gray again—though bulkheads were plain, unless power panels and conduit counted as decoration. They stopped in front of the cabin temporarily assigned to Trip and, when he came out of sick bay, Barty. “Welcome to the rebellion, Devin,” Philip said, his eyes suddenly serious. He tapped the palm pad, and, as the door opened, Devin heard no small excitement in Trip’s voice: “Awaiting your orders, sir!”

Devin smiled to himself, took the few steps to the next cabin door, and put his hand on the pad. The door opened and he strode in.

Makaiden stood in front of the long viewport, framed by the blackness of space and the few visible pinpoints of light. Distant stars. They were as far away as his hopes, his dreams had once been. But everything he’d ever wanted was now only a few feet in front of him.

She turned. She’d stripped off her jacket but still
wore the same dark thermal shirt and now-ripped pants she’d put on—was it only six hours ago?—before they’d gone to find the
Prosperity
. She looked battered, bruised, and tired. But something he thought he’d never see lit up her eyes.

Makaiden loved him. And he, with every bit of his being, loved her.

He extended his hand as she took a step toward him. “Dance with me.”