Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2 (36 page)

“Almost matches my cast.” She offered a tentative smile that he echoed. “Now your turn.”

Finding something for him to wear proved more difficult since Kraft had commanded an all female crew. Even Danna, Kraft’s massive fighter, didn’t have clothes big enough to fit. Danna’s puffheat robe barely covered his ass.

Mary bit her lip to hold back giggles.

He couldn’t blame her. The robe went beyond fluffy and blue. It was sky-blue, baby blue, fluffy-teddy blue and really, really short. Michael looked absurd and he knew it.

“Go ahead. We agreed to be honest with one another.”

“You look right pretty.” Laughter erupted, and she clapped a hand to her face.

“You’re just jealous.” He tossed his head back, shimmying his body effeminately.

Tears gathered in the outer corner of her eyes. “You don’t look much like a Roman god now.”

“Catty, catty.” He shook his head at her but laughed. It amazed him how good he felt when he was with her.

“Hey, if we take one of the bed sheets, we could wrap it around you like a toga.”

“I could run around naked.” He reached for the belt that barely held the robe closed.

“Hmm. Too distracting.” She stopped him, touching the belt around his waist with a wicked glint in her eye. “At least this will keep my eyes from your fabulous body.”

“And you wonder
why
I have such an ego?” He scooped her up, holding her firmly encased in his arms. Her fragrance, vanilla-citrus-floral, held him captive without her lifting a finger.

“You can’t keep carting me around.” She clutched his shoulders. “Isn’t there an infirmary on board?”

“Sure. Fully stocked. Why?”

“Might there be a pair of crutches there?” A frown darkened her face. “And why is the infirmary fully stocked?”

“Long story cut short: when I was mourning Kraft, I used to get drunk and take
Whisper
out for rides.” He paused for a moment, remembering several narrow escapes. “Duster kept the infirmary updated with every drug, contraption and a plethora of medical staff on stand-by.” A bit embarrassed, he admitted, “My drunken foolishness is one of the main reasons Windmere has so many talented doctors.”

“Oh.” Surprised by his honesty, Mary looked away. “Well, that does explain a lot.”

The scent of burning flowers signaled her overriding fear that she was no more than a stand-in for Kraft. Nothing could be further from the truth, and he thought he’d finally convinced her. Mary’s past made it almost impossible for her to fully trust him. Even his blatant honesty felt like a lie to her.

“My obsession with Kraft is over.” Michael leaned down to kiss her, and after a brief hesitation, Mary kissed him back.

“I’m sorry for being so suspicious, but—”

He cut her off with a kiss. “I understand. Ask me anything and I’ll answer. Even if the truth hurts, or makes me look foolish.”

“Deal.”

He took her to the infirmary and set her down. “I’ll let you explore while I check the bridge.”

Sifting through the well-stocked infirmary, Mary found a metal cane. Once she caught the rhythm, she could move quite fast and the cane would make a handy weapon, if needed. Old habits died hard, she thought.

Michael seemed so sincere and earnest. She felt not a flicker of dishonesty, but she couldn’t completely trust her heart to make decisions for her head.

Hobbling her way to the bridge, she heard Michael talking to someone. As she got closer, she recognized Duster’s voice coming across the com.

“Harper said he’s good to go,” Duster said.

“Tell him to bag the issue. Mary doesn’t want anything to do with him.”

“She doesn’t want to know who her father is?”

The very idea shocked Duster, and Mary wondered why.

“Not at the moment,” Michael said. “She might change her mind. If she does, we’ll go looking.” His tone indicated he didn’t care to discuss the matter further.

“It might be in our best interests to find out,” Duster said.

She tensed. Why would her father matter to them?

“Mary asked me to drop the matter.” The tone in Michael’s voice made it clear that Duster should too. She heard his chair creak as he moved, and she angled closer to the door.

“Did you tell her you would?” Duster asked.

She peeked around the doorway to the bridge.

“No. But I am and so are you, so will Harper.” Michael glared at Duster over the audvid. “Are we all on the same page?”

She relaxed against the cool metal doorframe.

“Her father is important,” Duster argued. “Emmet’s not a complete fool. He’ll know you took her, and he’ll tell her real father Overlord abducted his daughter. Her father, being an IWOG officer, will redouble his efforts to reclaim her.”

What Duster said was true. And Emmet, scum-sucking scoundrel that he was, would make things sound worse than they were in an effort to save his own ass. She could well imagine him painting the picture that he’d fought valiantly to protect her only to fail in the end.

“Even if her father is the CEO of the InnerWorld Government, he can’t breach our security. We’ve fought them off time and time again.” Michael had that pathological assurance in his voice and she discovered she really did love his arrogance.

Duster conceded the point with a nod, but he still didn’t seem convinced. “What if Mary helped?”

“Helped?” Michael asked.

“Helped the IWOG civilize Windmere. She damn near did with her trick of plastering plastimirror on the plastimetal security bracelet.”

Her hand shot to her mouth. She held her breath, listening intently for Michael’s response.

“Mary wouldn’t help the IWOG at gunpoint. She didn’t know Jones would use her trick in a double-deal. She never would have done it had she known.” Assurance marked his voice, causing her heart to swell with his trust. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

“Mary’s dangerous,” Duster said, his voice level and even. “She’s not just broken security, she’s smashed it to smithereens. Given enough time, I have no doubt she could sneak her way out of lockdown. I’m not willing to underestimate her again. She is a clear threat to the security of Windmere.”

She understood Duster’s concerns. If she had to fill his boots, she’d have the same doubts.

“I trust her,” Michael said calmly.

That silly romantic part of her heart melted at the firm conviction in his voice. She could tell he meant what he said, and she loved him even more.

“You trusted her before and look what she did.” Duster’s voice sounded colder than Ice Lake.

She pulled back, one hand clenched in a fist to keep herself from running in there and screaming at Duster. She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone; she’d just wanted to get away. But now, she wanted to stay. She could have a life with Michael. All the things she’d ever wanted—companionship, acceptance, love—she could have everything with Michael.

“Duster, I thought you were on her side. Weren’t you the one who made sure she had enough time to escape in
Whisper
?”

Her eyebrows rose. Why had Duster helped her?

“I am, but I’m no fool. I wanted her away from Windmere not only to protect her from you, but also to protect you from her. You can’t bring Mary back and give her free rein. That woman could take over your entire planet if she were so inclined.”

“I’m not going to give her access to everything, at least not yet. She’s going to live with me and work with security to fix potential problems.” Michael leaned back in his chair, giving her a better view of Duster’s grim expression.

“Isn’t that akin to putting the wolf in charge of the hen house?” Duster finally noticed Michael’s robe. She could tell he wanted to say more than just, “Nice outfit.”

“Thanks,” Michael growled, straightening. “Mary isn’t going to come back as some kind of decoration. I have to give her
something
to do, or she’ll go nuts.”

She pulled back from the doorway, her mind racing. Did he mean to give her pretend work? Would she, in fact, be a prisoner again? Truth, like a rusty iron cup. Had Michael lied when he said she could leave Windmere whenever she wanted? Had he been willing to say
anything
to get her to go back with him?

She peered around the doorway again. Michael, despite the fluffy robe, looked fully in charge. His posture, his body language, even the way he faced Duster over the audvid, spoke of a man in control and comfortable with command. How could she trust him?

Duster cleared his throat. “I have something else for you.”

“Indeed?”

“Kraft is alive.”

Michael shot from his chair so fast he smashed his head into the curved window over the console. He crouched, rubbing the top of his head briskly.

She stumbled back against the wall behind her. The coldness of the metal seeped into her bones.

“Could you please close your robe and sit down?” Duster asked.

When she moved forward and looked around the edge, she saw Michael sitting in the pilot seat, still rubbing his head. “Are you sure?”

“Miller confirmed the report. Kraft is on Corona, running a legitimate transport ship,
Prospect
, out of Borealis.”

“How can he be sure it’s her?” Michael continued to rub his head.

“Who else is six-three, wears a modified katana to her left hip and has black hair twined in linen down to her butt?”

Michael leaned back in the chair, his face slack with stunned surprise.

Mary bit her lip, straining to hear every word and feel every nuance.

“Do you want me to send a Runner—”

“Don’t send anyone,” Michael ordered.

She pulled away from the bridge. Michael wanted to go himself. Of course he did. Just as he’d come personally for her, he would want to go personally for Kraft.

Mary considered her options. She could ignore what she heard and return to Windmere where, if Duster had his way, she’d become a prisoner, or worse, a woman in reserve, waiting to see if Kraft wanted Michael back. If Kraft did want him back, what would Michael do with her? Would he keep her on his world because she was too dangerous to set free? If Kraft didn’t want Michael, would he turn to her only by second choice, never fully trusting her, but keeping her like a dangerous pet and loving her by default?

Leaning against the wall, Mary closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can sit around and wait, or I can do something.” She glared down at her cast-bound foot. “You, you stupid thing, are making this ever so complicated.”

She hobbled away from the bridge, her mind working furiously, trying to override the pain in her heart. It didn’t take long to gather her supplies. Every breath of misgiving she had, she violently shook away by rocking her head side to side as she reminded herself, “I’m making the best choice.”

Michael sat on the bridge of
Whisper
, hands slack in his lap. Kraft. Alive. After all this time. “So you still grace the Void.” As if he held a glass of the best champagne, he lifted his hand to the window in salute. “Here’s to you, my unbreakable Kraft.” He took a mock drink.

The news was the perfect caper to a perfect day. He had Mary back and she loved him, and he had made wonderful love with her. Duster would get over his paranoia and accept Mary. And now, the woman he realized he’d never loved but only cared about still made her way in this complicated Void.

Knowing Kraft was still alive only strengthened his love for Mary, because he finally saw his supposed love for Kraft for what it really was: obsession. A pathetic bid to turn back time and change his past. What he felt for Mary was honest and true.

“Michael? Could you help me?”

Mary’s frightened voice rocketed him to his feet. He bashed his head again. Tossing an angry glance over his shoulder, he left the small bridge, hurrying toward the sound of her voice. Mary stood at the far end of the hall, balanced on a slim metal cane. She looked terrified, more so than he’d ever seen her.

“You okay?” He rubbed his head as he walked down the narrow corridor. The nubbly brown neospring was rough against his bare feet.

“I’m fine. Just something, well, weird is all.”

“What?” His heart sped up, and he wondered why Mary was so afraid. He wanted to get closer so he could read her scent, but as he drew near, she edged away.

“I wasn’t snooping, honest. I was just stretching my leg, and I found something odd in the shuttle.” She glanced nervously behind her. “Not the one we took, but the other one.” She pointed down the catwalk to the second shuttle bay. “I didn’t open the box because I didn’t want you to think I was being nosy, but, well, I did find this box, and—”

“Mary, calm down.” She was so agitated she jittered. “Just tell me what you found.”

Blushing, she stammered, “A small wooden box with your name on the lid. When I stumbled against the shuttle couch, the box fell out, and, well…
why don’t I just show you?”

Intrigued, he padded barefoot into the shuttle. “Where is it?”

“Over there, under the couch.”

He bent down, searching the dark opening beneath the bench. “I don’t see anything.”

“I know. I lied.” She pressed a gun barrel to his neck and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Thirty-One

As Michael fell forward, Mary nudged him so he sprawled on the tiny shuttle couch. She tossed the injection gun aside and checked his vitals. His eyes were wide and his breath came in shallow pants as the drug immobilized him.

“You’ll have to trust me.” She arranged him on the couch, making sure the robe covered him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hobbling to the main console, she adjusted the shuttle’s trajectory and life support.

“You can hear me, but you can’t move. I’m sorry about that, but I can’t defeat you physically.”

She moved back across the small cabin to peer into his face.

“Duster’s right. I’m dangerous. You can no more trust me than I can you.”

His eyes sparkled in the glow from muted overhead lights.

“You are the most dangerous man in the Void, Overlord or not. Had I known as a bandit what I know now, I never would have liberated so much as a crumb from you.” She touched his face, her fingertips memorizing every feature, every plane. “I wouldn’t have dared to yank the sleeping dragon’s whiskers.”