Fight or Flight (3 page)

“You were on a date?” she wailed, humiliation flushing her face again. She’d never relied on anyone but herself until those months leading to Walter’s death. First the warden who had helped her escape, and then Josiah and Clau. And she couldn’t manage to get it together enough to make it through this day without their help, even crashing her best friend’s personal life.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s no big deal. Max understands.” Josiah tucked her head under his chin. “Besides, he’s a total closet-case and I don’t need that drama. When he comes out to his family, maybe it will get serious.”

Tirzah snorted a watery laugh. “You overdosed on drama the day you decided to sit next to me in Policies and Procedures at the Academy.”

“That is so not whatever that class was called, but yes, you provide all the drama a career officer like myself can handle on any given day.”

“I was a career officer too.” She sighed, burying her face in his shoulder.

“You still are, love. Just let me prove it to them. No tribunal members in their right mind could look at your medical records, hear your testimony, and not understand what happened. I just wish you didn’t have to relive it. At least they haven’t stripped you of rank or locked you up.”

“Yet.” She shuddered at the thought of being locked in the brig until the trial. The worst part of being incarcerated wasn’t the shame or the loss of freedom. It was the claustrophobia and the suffocating boredom.

“They won’t,” he reassured her. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I ran into Lucassen in the mess.”

“That’s it?”

“No, I mean, I literally ran into him. Spilled my food all over him. And then he invited me to dinner.”

“He did
what?
” Josiah looked scandalized. “That’s insane. Why in the stars would he do something like that?”

“I don’t know. I think maybe he wanted to shake me up, make me nervous, make me say something.”

“Maybe.” Josiah’s face turned thoughtful. “That doesn’t seem like his style though. Do you want me to try to get him dismissed?”

“I don’t know. You said he’s fair?”

“One of the fairest, from what I understand.”

“Has he ever come on to someone he was prosecuting before?”

“Not that I know of. We don’t exactly run in the same social circles, but the man is practically a monk. Devoted to justice. No lady friends. No guys either. I’d definitely know if there were another gay advocate serving here—not that he’s been here long. They brought him out here just to prosecute you.”

“The way he looked at me, Becky … it was like he wanted to devour me.”

“You’re a beautiful woman, Tirzah. Don’t read too much into it.”

“He’s sexy, isn’t he?”

“Um … yeah. He’s sexy.” Josiah’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, do I actually need to counsel you not to date the prosecutor in your own murder trial, for fuck’s sake, Tirzah.”

“No! God, no. I laughed in his face and turned him down flat. I’m just still really confused about sex and men and everything. Walter’s head trip.”

“Go see your therapist. The court-ordered psychiatric therapy is just as important as your physical therapy. A punching bag will help your arm, but it won’t help your head. What did you think, you’d never experience sexual arousal again? Of course you will, Tirzah. Hell, from everything I’ve heard, a woman in her thirties is in her sexual prime.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Seriously, Tirz, I’m your lawyer, not your shrink.”

“You’re also my best friend, and who else am I going to talk to about sex? Becky, is this really my life? I’m not going to wake and find out the last four years were a nightmare, am I?”

Josiah sighed deeply before meeting her eyes. What Tirzah saw there made her want to crawl into her bed and never come out. How much had she fucked up his life and his career by dragging him out here to the edge of civilization to defend her?

“Life sucks sometimes, T. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when things changed with Walter. You were trapped out here, and I had no idea what kind of secret war you were fighting. But we are going to get you through this, get you your command back. Me and Clau, we’re on your side, and I don’t want you feeling guilty, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what? Yeah, you agree, you’re gonna get through this? Or yeah, Becky, fuck off and leave me here to cry?”

“A little of both, maybe.” She sniffled against his shoulder.

“You know, after I save your ass and you’re restored to fight command, I’ll be the most sought-after defense advocate in the Fleet. So, don’t you worry about me, okay?”

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

“That’s my girl.”

Chapter 4

Zeke looked at the reports scrolling on his reader, the same reports he’d been mulling over for weeks. The words swam together in his head, and still nothing made sense. Why were there no photos documenting Simonian’s injuries after the crash? Why had it taken eight hours of surgery to repair a broken arm? Every time he tried to find more information, the reader produced the same result,
No records found.
It was common for medical records to be closed for privacy reasons, even in the Fleet, but this was ridiculous.

It was all too simple.

The reports from Commandant Guszak all pointed to a quick and easy conviction. She’d been in the brig for assault and insubordination off and on for much of the last year of her marriage. The reports were all complete, but no one had bothered to fill in any detail beyond the charges that had landed her in the brig. She’d escaped the brig, shot the warden and her husband before stealing the transport. Why a transport? If she wanted off that rock so badly, why hadn’t she stolen a fighter? She knew how to fly them as well as anyone. Hell, better than anyone, if her glowing wartime records were to be believed.

It was getting late and his eyes burned. He scowled in frustration as he snatched the ’com.

“Commandant Guszak.” The other man’s voice, crisp from years of military service, gave no hint whether Zeke had awoken him.

“It’s Lucassen. Where are the interviews with the defendant? What’s with these medical records?”

“The medical records are irrelevant; she broke her arm in the crash. She exercised her rights against self-incrimination and refused to be interviewed by the police.”

“Why did it take eight hours of surgery to repair a broken arm?” Zeke pressed. He’d broken bones before, playing sports as a youngster. They set the bone, cast it, and that was that. Why would it take hours of surgery?

“I’m no doctor, Lucassen. Why do you care how long the bitch was in surgery? She’s a traitor; you were hired to convict her.
Do your job.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Guszak. You are not my employer, the Fleet is. And my job is to prosecute for crimes committed. I need all the details in order to do that. You’re the investigating commandant, and these reports are vague to the point of useless.” Zeke growled as he paused to catch his breath. “If anyone could be accused of not doing his job, it would be you, Guszak. First thing in the morning, I want Josiah Beckett in my office with his client, and I want open access to your detectives’ files.”

“Don’t you threaten me, Lucassen. You have an opportunity to make your career here. You were chosen for this because you ought to be immune to her wiles. Clearly you haven’t learned from past mistakes. You let one woman fuck up your life; are you really going to go down that road again?”

Zeke seethed, forcing his voice to calm as he spoke into the ’com. “Mr. Guszak, you don’t know me. Do not—ever—talk about my wife.”

He gripped the ’com to prevent himself from throwing it against the wall. He ended the call to the commandant and paced. Elinor hadn’t merely fucked up his life, she’d destroyed it, nearly destroying him in the process.

It was hours before he could sleep. When he finally did, an old nightmare returned to haunt him.

Zeke was alone in his big house watching news vids. They’d been roaring all day with the sounds of sirens and explosions, replays of video of a transport crash on one of the big public flights. Casualty reports rolled in, and the newscasters said it was the deadliest crash in history. Doctors begged for blood donations, and onlookers told their grisly stories to the media with eyes widened by shock and horror.

He knew what would happen next, because it always happened, and he could never manage to wake himself before it did.

The knock on the door. The police officer asking him to come to the station.

The smell of bodies burned from the crash where they were all laid out in bags filled his nostrils, even in sleep. And still he couldn’t wake, not until he saw her face one last time. When he did, even after all these years, he couldn’t hold back the anger.

* * * *

At 0700, a bleary-eyed Zeke pushed open the door to his office and was greeted by the sight of a tight red coil of hair pinned to the scalp over uniform-clad shoulders. Next to Simonian, her lawyer lounged in one of his office chairs, one insolent foot propped on Zeke’s pristine desk. In addition to his legendary charm, Josiah Beckett had a reputation for being rude, pushy, and sharp as hell in the courtroom. He was a tough adversary. Luckily for Beckett’s client, Zeke had no buttons this man could push.
Oh, but
she
could.
He tried not to think about how tempting she’d looked last night when she’d laughed in his face. That noise coming from her had been alluring, and he hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. What would it be like to meet a woman like her in other circumstances? Ones where he’d be free to follow up on that jolt of attraction?

He studied the way her back stiffened as he walked in, the way her chin lifted. This was a woman who stood up to power. What had happened to make her run? She stood, and Beckett followed, both turning to face him.

“Sit. Captain Simonian, I apologize for my behavior yesterday in the mess. I was distracted.”

Her brown eyes widened, as if she were caught off guard by his apology. He watched the motion in her throat as she swallowed.

“Accepted.”

“Advocate Beckett.” Zeke turned to face the other man, taking in his casual, cocky posture, certain it was calculated to make him misstep. He’d have to watch himself around this man; he was fairly sure Josiah Beckett’s eyes missed nothing. “With your permission, and your presence, of course—”

“Of course,” Beckett interrupted.

“—I’d like to interview your client prior to trial. You say she’s not guilty. She exercised her rights not to speak to the police, but I need to know what happened.”

Brown eyes snapped to his, and Simonian’s freckled face flushed red.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not doing this now. I’m not doing it over and over and over again. I shot my husband in self-defense. I did not shoot the warden. You have my medical records; you know what happened. I’m not going to let you make me recite it back to you in order to fulfill some sadistic whim of yours.”

Frustrated, Zeke looked at the reader he carried. “Your medical records create more questions than answers, Captain. And I need answers.”

“What are you talking about?” Beckett grabbed the reader. “We released everything to Commandant Guszak’s detectives.”

“Well, they didn’t provide anything to me beyond the accident report and the hospital log times. Why on earth did it take eight hours to repair a broken arm?”

The color drained from Simonian’s face, and she shook her head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I don’t joke about murder cases, Captain Simonian.”

“Becky, fix this.” The formerly stoic little redhead wiped her eyes with her sleeve and turned her face to the other advocate.

“Don’t call me Becky,” the other man whispered, kissing her forehead. “Go back to your quarters. I’ll sort this.”

Zeke didn’t miss the intimacy of the interaction between the two. Were they lovers? The ’com records indicated she’d attempted to call Josiah Beckett from the disastrous transport launch. Had she been attempting to leave her husband for the other man? Anger pulsed through Zeke, anger at himself for letting a pretty face sucker him into thinking maybe she wasn’t the calculated killer the commandant had insisted she was.
Just another faithless bitch.
Rage filled him, and he took a deep breath, trying not to erupt right then and there.

She turned back to Zeke and composed herself. It was impressive, her pulling on all that mental armor. Her shoulders straightened and her chin lifted.

“I don’t know why this information was kept from you. I hope you understand this is a very painful subject. I am willing to relive it all in court, because that is necessary. Not here. Josiah knows everything, and he will tell you what you need to know.” She moved to brush past him, out of the room.

“I need to hear it from you, pixie.” He grabbed her arm, even though it made him feel like a bully when she flinched. “A courtroom surprise will land you and your lawyer both in the brig for contempt.”

Josiah Beckett’s arm shot out and he shoved Zeke back. “Do not lay your hands on her. You will not address my client as ‘pixie,’ unless you want me to file a complaint with the advocacy and get your ass disbarred.”

Zeke looked at the woman’s lowered eyes and the trembling lower lip. She was afraid, and it wasn’t of prosecution.
She was afraid of him.
He swallowed hard, letting go of the arm he’d gripped. He nodded, watching as she scurried away. Then he turned to Josiah Beckett.

“If you want to be the best possible advocate for your client, you both need to come clean, and right now.”

Chapter 5

Tirzah stepped out of the shower, wrapping her hair in a towel and trying to come to terms with what her therapist had told her. No matter how many times she replayed the conversation in her head, she couldn’t convince herself her attraction to the green-eyed advocate was not a failing. Some self-destructive impulse that made her seek out men with the power to destroy her.

“You need to explore fantasy and sexual arousal in a non-threatening environment.” Her therapist had suggested she watch some sexually explicit holo-vids and allow herself to fantasize about whoever happened to come to mind. Tirzah knew already who would come to mind, for he hadn’t really left it all afternoon. She cupped her almost-dry breasts in her hands, tugging at the nipples as the last droplets of water absorbed into her skin. Tightness settled into her abdomen, low, below even the lowest of her scars. An ache, a whisper of want. Groaning low in her throat, she slid one hand down her body to tease between feminine folds of heat.