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Unbuckling her restraints, he swept her into his arms and carried her through one of the side doors. Sylvia’s long eyelashes fluttered, her light brown skin three shades too pale.
Bex removed the bandana from her white hair, and Turnip squirmed free of her jumpsuit.
Sylvia rubbed a hand across her damp forehead, her breathing ragged. “I can’t decide if I’m impressed or disgusted with you right now.” The corner of Shiro’s mouth twitched up. “Did I mention your entire wardrobe made it safely aboard?” Turnip curled around his ankle with a chirpy mew as if to corroborate this story. The ghost of a grin tugged at Sylvia’s lips. “Okay, maybe not completely disgusted.” “I do have that effect on people.” Shiro straightened, puffing out his chest dramatically.
“But I did hear there were some girls in that hush bar that got busted down.” Foster couldn’t breathe, and by his side, Davis went rigid. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Good riddance to ’em, leaves a little more air for the rest of us.” The blood drained from Foster’s face, but Grady’s stare was focused as he scrolled through VSoc, flicking a message to Foster. Grady: Relax. They’ve already released the names. It wasn’t them.
Though the cam was to their backs, he could recognize Ezren from any angle, her hair any color, wearing any clothing. The way she moved and carried herself was as familiar as his own shadow. With her gaze on a swivel, she trailed behind Shiro and Bex as they practically dragged Sylvia through the crowd.
“And if they do off us, use your perfect plan and go rescue Ezren for me.” “Wow, you’re going to let Davis rescue Ezren?” Grady smirked, offering him a hand up. “Literally over my dead body.” Foster’s adrenaline shot through him in an electrifying buzz as he climbed into the escape pod.
Grady: I’m not an idiot, Sterling. Foster: Maybe. But sometimes you still do idiot things. Grady: You got that from Syl, didn’t you? Foster: Guilty.
“It’s no secret. Fifteen minutes ago, an anonymous source leaked that Calderon found terranium on Otho and was trying to keep it quiet for himself. Now every syndicate in Casolla and their spacer grandmother is trying to get a ship out there to stake a claim.”
“I told you to guard the ship,” Foster cut him off, swaying in his seat as the ship took flight. “And you were supposed to get help.” A deep furrow slashed through his father’s eyebrows, and in that expression, Foster distantly thought that perhaps there might be a resemblance between them after all.
“Did you look up the terranium news that guy was talking about?” Foster asked, his words ragged. “Yeah, he wasn’t lying. The leaks have basically sparked off a terranium rush between the station syndicates.”
“And Otho’s going to turn into a shoot-out in a hot minute, if it isn’t already,” Gerard said, his voice sure and even. Huh. If Foster’s father was pretending to be an adult, it must be serious.
“It’s military-grade, with stealth and weapons and everything.” He shared a brief glance with Grady, his voice almost gentle. “I don’t think Ian Shiro is just any private investigator.”
Foster’s hand cramped, but when he reached for it with the injured one, a fork of pain bolted up his arm. He winced.
“Dad, you—” His hand cramped again, and he scowled down at it, swearing under his breath. “Don’t say another word.” Gerard leaned forward to check his bandage. “I’m not going to stop you from going in there. If anyone can get in and out of Otho before they shoot it to space-dust, it’s Belethea’s champion royale team.” He flashed a grim smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But I’m not going to be the dad that lets his son go it alone either.
“I’m going to make sure we get home, even if that means fighting fire with fire.”
Ezren called up the room’s parameters in her goggs, commanding the holo to display their view of Otho. Swaths of bright orange lava burned across its garnet-red face—the angriest jewel in the system. Beside her, Bex fell to her knees, her eyes fixed on the planet, and her words barely audible. “Sister Otho, Mother Belethea brings her greetings and asks you watch over her children while they’re in your care.”
“But if we’re taking one of the pods, who’s staying on the ship?” “No worries there.” Shiro beamed at Sylvia, holding out his hands as if presenting her like a prize. “Our lovely Sylvia Long here will be our getaway driver.”
“Oh, c’mon, you’ve been lurking over my shoulder in the cockpit for the last week.” “That’s because I didn’t trust you to get us where we’re going.” Sylvia gave him her patented unimpressed face, but Ezren couldn’t help but notice she had a hard time not smiling when she looked at Shiro. “Exactly, and I expertly used the time to teach you the controls and how to navigate, did I not?”
“So it’s only going to be the three of us? An odd number? That’s bad luck.” Bex’s lips thinned into a hard, pale line. “The planets will take one to even it out.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Shiro said, capturing Sylvia’s finger in his hand. “This is what we came for. We’ll bring back your dad and be an even number. Happy planets. Happy Ezren. Happy Shiro gets paid.”
She released them, stepping up to Shiro with narrowed eyes, her finger poking into his chest now. “You bring my team back safe.” “And you take care of my ship.” He looked down into her brown eyes, his voice low as his hands rested on her hips. “And my cat.”
Though she was more than happy for Sylvia, she couldn’t help thinking of the hands she missed on her own skin.
No matter what happened, she’d meet him on Obrone. She’d bury her face in his neck, and he’d wrap her in his arms—they’d be whole again.
Sylvia grabbed Shiro by the straps of his pack and tugged him into her. Their lips came together, and Ezren knew instantly that this wasn’t their first kiss. Shiro cupped her face in his hands, and a hot blush scorched Ezren’s cheeks as she averted her gaze with a knowing smile.
If Belethea was a planet of storms, Otho was one of fire.
Despite the mystery he posed, she couldn’t deny that she had complete faith in him. Which probably marked her a desperate fool. But then again, at this point, what choice did she have? And if Sylvia liked him, that had to count for something.
And despite the questions still whirling about Shiro’s past, Ezren took comfort from his steely competence.
A pale eight-year-old girl with mousy hair and dark eyes stared out of the flat, glossy image—a younger version of herself. And not just her. Beside her, a pudgy little Sam, and her mom, ten years younger, smiled up from a small, worn couch. It was a photo from their apartment in Obrone—a single cramped room—with a round-cheeked Sammy wearing his prosthetics as they waited for regen to take hold.
Beside him, Grady, Davis, and Gerard stared over his shoulder at the scene. After another two days straight with the three of them, he was ready to jump in the shuttle for Otho’s surface just for a little peace and quiet.
“And from their sizes, I don’t think any of them are our girls,” Davis said. Foster tried not to bristle at the word “our” and failed.
Grady was already slipping into the shuttle. “We’ll be fine, Y. Royalers are fast, and we look out for each other. It’s our whole thing.” “Grady’s right,” Foster said, surprised the words didn’t burn his tongue. “It’s just like another royale. We fly down, run in, scrap, and run some more.” “This isn’t just anything, Foster. You’re my son.” Gerard ran an agitated hand through his long black hair. “I need you to come back.”
“When you need an out, I’ll be here.” Davis’s heavy gaze met Foster’s, a shared urgency tying them together—a connection of complete understanding. “Just bring her back safe.” Foster slid his hand through Davis’s to grip his arm, some part of him knowing that even if he hadn’t come, Davis would still be here. “I will.”
Grady shifted the rifle in his hands, and Foster could just make out the slight shake of his fingers. At least he was taking the situation seriously for once.
With a thunderous crack, Foster fell flat onto his back, pain tearing through his ribs.
Bex rose from a concealed corner behind a chair, a handgun as familiar in her hands as if she’d been born with it. “I’m here.” “Thank the suns,” Grady said, his voice weak with relief from his spot in the hall.
“Foster?” Foster’s heart nearly stopped as he looked to where Ezren shifted an overturned table from her body and rose to her feet. Immeasurable, all-encompassing relief surged through him. The fear that had been gnawing at him with sharp teeth for days finally eased. She was here. In seconds, he crossed the room, resisting the urge to throw his arms around her as his goggs assessed her topsuit for injuries.
“I thought it was you, but I must be seeing things.” She holstered the gun at her thigh, and her trembling hands gingerly closed around his elbows, as if to make sure he was real. “I thought you were on Belethea. Safe. How did you—” “Ezren, I don’t want to be safe when you’re not.” Foster gently knocked his helmet to hers, searching her coffee-dark eyes, trying to make her understand. He was always supposed to be here. Even if she was walking through hell, he would be there for her to lean on. “No matter what, if you’ll have me, I’ll be right here. With you.”
“My name is actually Shiro Tanaka, and I’m a dishonorably relieved agent of the interplanetary federation. I was investigating Baxter’s illegal operations here when Calderon bought out Baxter, and he pulled strings to get the investigation shut down. I pressed harder and was put on an indefinite leave of absence.”
The official ID holo showed Shiro’s same lean face but with buzzed hair and in a crisp gray uniform decorated with various medals. There was some other information Foster didn’t understand, but across the holo in bright red letters were the words Inactive Duty.
Grady barked out a dry laugh. “Look, kin, we’re not soldiers. We just came to grab Ezren and Bex and ’ject outta here.” Bex crossed her arms. “I thought you would’ve wanted evidence to put Calderon out an airlock.” Grady rolled out his right shoulder before favoring her with the artfully lopsided grin of a true adrenaline junkie. “Eh, I’m not saying I couldn’t be convinced.” Foster resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So much for taking this seriously.
Foster opened his mouth, but a wave of dizziness rocked him instead, and the world tilted. “Foster!” Ezren moved to his side, putting an arm around his waist to support him, and a bolt of pain shot through his ribs. His jaw clenched as spots darkened his vision, and Ezren pulled her hand away, red reflecting from her gloves in the light of her goggs. “Foster’s hurt,” Ezren said, her voice calm and even.
She leaned closer to examine the jagged channel a piece of shrapnel had carved in his side. “I know it hurts, but it looks like a flesh wound. The nanite bandages will hold it together, but you’ll still have to be careful with it until we can get it laserstitched.”
Ezren’s hands drew away, but he caught one in his own. They were together again, but he couldn’t stand the unsettled wrinkles between them.
The royale brought us together, but you and I—what we have—is so much bigger than that.” Foster laced his fingers with hers. “I want to be the one that always has your back, no matter what. For as long as you want me.” “Of course I want you, Foster. I always want you with every piece of me, every fiber, since that first day I showed up at the starting line and you were there. And I know you’re scared and worried; I am too. If I lose my dad and the person I love more than anything else in the ’verse today, I don’t know that I’ll survive it.” She squeezed his hand, her gaze shining with
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Ezren never did anything halfway—it was why she made a difference when others couldn’t. And he loved her for it. “Okay, Ezren Hart.” He cupped her jaw with one hand, stroking his thumb along her cheek. “I’m with you to the end.”
“Because I trust you with everything that I am. But I need you to trust me too. I want to be the first person you call when you need to talk something through. When you have a problem big or small. Anything. Please, trust that you and I can work it out.” She nodded, her voice quiet over the hum of the air handler. “I believe in us, Foster Sterling. More than I ever thought it was possible to believe in anything.”
“I’ve told you before, haven’t I?” He shifted to sit on the table and tugged her closer, a fierce protectiveness burning through him. “I always come to get you.”
“You came all this way for family, and your family came all this way for you.”
“I think our family is a magnet for danger.”
