Stowaway (23 page)

Bastard? Kit was a bigger one. Where Raine acted out of crazy jealousy, Kit stayed cold and rational, acting out of pure self-interest.

Yet Parker trusted him.

He sat up in bed, pulling out of Parker’s arms. It wasn’t enough. Parker touched his back gently, and Kit at once scrambled off the bed to get away from the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Parker asked.

“I have to go.” Kit gathered up his clothes from the floor and began dressing quickly.

“What? Why?” Parker leaned up on one elbow. “It’s early, not even 2300. You can stay the night if you want.”

God, no. He couldn’t lie in Parker’s arms all night like a lover. They were
not
lovers.

“I have to go,” Kit repeated. He picked up his shoes. “I won’t be back. I’m sorry. This isn’t working out.”

Parker sat up, swung his legs out of the bed. “What are you talking about? Not working how?”

“Sorry.” Kit didn’t put the shoes on. No time to spare. Had to end this before it became a horrible scene. “Don’t ask why. Just be glad.”

“Glad?”

“Yes. Good-bye.”

He ran out the door, still carrying his shoes. The metal deck chilled his bare feet, but he didn’t stop to put on his shoes. If Parker wanted to come after Kit, he’d have to put some clothes on first, so Kit made the most of the few minutes he had. He reached the elevator without hearing anyone coming after him.

The elevator arrived, and he stepped in. It awaited his command. Where now? The thought of slinking back to his bunk so early and suffering the curious glances of his bunkmates dismayed him.

He set the elevator to take him to the observation deck.

* * *

Raine tried listening to music to block out the sounds he couldn’t hear, but it didn’t help. He kept thinking he could
just
detect the sounds of Kit and Parker, and if he lowered the volume, their voices—moans, cries of pleasure—would suddenly be loud and clear.

So he couldn’t stay in his cabin. Nor his office, not all night when he wasn’t on duty. The nightshift kept looking at him funny. Instead he found himself having a late session pounding the treadmill in the blessedly empty gym. Perhaps he could wear himself out, and exhaustion would let him sleep.

But he couldn’t leave his Link behind—he had to be contactable—and the Link had access to the tracker data. Which meant he got to torture himself by looking at the blue dot in officer country. In Parker’s cabin.

When it started to move, Raine slowed the treadmill to walking pace and picked up the Link. He glanced at the time. Barely 2300. Earlier than Kit had left before. He watched the Link, trying not to picture Kit instead of the blue dot. A blue dot didn’t have narrow hips, long legs, glossy hair, and a gorgeous ass. Its movement was a jerky blink, not the confident grace of the man it represented. It couldn’t give Raine a smile full of mischief and invitation.

Not picturing Kit wasn’t going well.

The dot blinked on past the bunk rooms and moved on forward, then up a deck. The observation deck. Raine couldn’t help but picture Kit under the starlight. He put the Link down and upped the treadmill’s speed. He’d been checking only for the sake of security, he told himself. Doing his job keeping an eye on their stowaway. Call it a spot check. He smiled. A dot check. Kit was on the observation deck, a section he was allowed to be in, so while he stayed there, Raine had no more reason for concern. He glanced at the Link several times. Kit remained on the obs deck.

When Raine finally had enough of running, he showered, dried off, then checked the Link one more time, one last time, he swore to himself. The dot was still on the observation deck. Nearly forty-five minutes. He put it down again and picked up his clothes.

Once dressed, he picked up the Link again. He should put it in his pocket. He shouldn’t look. He looked. The blue dot hadn’t moved. Raine pictured Kit’s gray eyes, dark in the dimness of the obs deck but glinting with the reflected light of the stars.

He was going up there. He didn’t even have to decide. His feet simply carried him there when he left the gym. But they faltered when he approached the entrance.

What if Kit wasn’t alone?

It should have occurred to him before. He’d seen the dot and pictured Kit there by himself. But there could be twenty people with him. He could be throwing a party and there’d still only be the one blue dot.

Twenty people or just one. Parker. Gazing at the stars together, kissing, perhaps in the alcove where Raine and Kit had been so…indiscreet.

Raine almost turned around and walked away again, the picture in his mind making him too unspeakably angry to risk going in there. If he found Parker and Kit even kissing, he feared he’d lose control and do something appalling.

But he took a breath, suppressed the picture of himself punching Parker in the face, and walked slowly to the entrance. It had no door to disturb the peaceful haven inside, only a couple of turns to shield the dark obs deck from the lighted corridor. No noise, so the hypothetical party probably wasn’t going on. Raine strained his ears for any other sounds, of the variety two people alone together might make. He heard none.

He rounded the corner that would take him into the dark space and paused to let his eyes adjust. Someone sat there on a padded bench in the center of the room. The long hair loose down his back told Raine it was Kit. He was about to step inside and speak when he noticed Kit’s position. Knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, head down. His shoulders shook. This close, Raine could hear the sound of quiet sobs.

He froze. If he could split in two, one half of him would be there in an instant, holding Kit, telling him he would stop the pain and nothing would hurt Kit again without coming through Raine first. The other half would be walking away fast, feeling like an intruder on private anguish. He’d thrown away his right to offer Kit comfort. He could only embarrass and humiliate him by going in there.

For a few seconds, the two halves cancelled each other out, gluing him to the spot. But the reluctant intruder won. He turned away and walked out silently, hoping Kit hadn’t noticed him.

He got as far as the elevator and had even pressed the call button when the other half made a counter attack.
Go to him
! it ordered.
He needs you
! Raine’s pride had caused this. Made them both miserable. Humiliated at falling below his personal high standards, he’d overreacted when the captain reminded him to be discreet. She hadn’t told him to break up with Kit, yet every day since then, a part of his mind had been trying to convince him she had. So he could blame her and justify his hasty and cruel actions.

Go to him.

Raine fought the compulsion. He couldn’t stand this lack of control. He couldn’t stand feeling as if he had no say over where his feet carried him, which elevator button he pressed. Couldn’t stand the constant urge to check the tracker data. This had gone way beyond unprofessional to pathological. Dishonorable.

He realized the elevator door stood open in front of him, the empty car waiting for him. Perhaps the same car where he’d first met Kit. And first lost control of himself. He was no stronger now. Weaker, in fact.

As Raine turned to walk back to the observation deck, the elevator door closed on an empty car, its journey wasted.

* * *

Kit scrubbed his sleeve across his eyes and face when he heard someone come in. He expected it to be Parker but instead saw a bulkier shape in the shadows by the door. Parker couldn’t know where Kit was, but Raine always knew.

“Having you stalking me all over the ship with this fucking tracker is totally creepy.” He turned his gaze straight ahead, not wanting Raine to see his red and sore eyes. Couldn’t let him think he had the power to make Kit break down.

“I’m sorry,” Raine said quietly. “It’s unprofessional of me to use the data for personal reasons.”

“Try to sound a bit less like you’re reading from a manual, would you?”

Silence. Raine didn’t move any farther into the room. Kit held out his left arm with the tracker on it.

“Why don’t you take it off me?” He made it a challenge. “Deal with reality. Deal with not knowing where I am every minute of the day.”

“You know I can’t. Captain’s orders.”

Kit shook his head. If Raine recommended it, the captain would probably agree to the removal.

“I wish I could,” Raine went on. “Then I could stop acting so badly.”

“Fat chance. I’m sure you’d figure out some other way to be an asshole.”

Raine moved, and Kit glanced back, fearing he’d angered him, but when he stepped into the light, Kit saw only anguish on his face. He stopped before he reached the bench, but his approach made Kit wrap his arms around his knees again, folding himself up into the smallest space he could.

“I want to stop,” Raine said, his voice coming out strangled. “I know I’m acting badly, but I can’t make myself stop. I hate feeling this way; I hate being so out of control.”

“Going to blame me for that again?”

“No, it’s not your fault. It’s me. I sometimes think I’m losing my mind. I never acted like this before, never felt like this. Am I obsessed? Am I going crazy?”

“You’re in love, you dick.”

“If this is what love does to a man, I don’t know why anyone would want it.”

“Love isn’t the problem. You’re the problem. You’re so used to being in control, you can’t deal with it when you feel something too strong to repress.”

Silence once again from Raine. After a moment, he spoke.

“Since when did you become my psychiatrist?”

“Hah! You need one.”

“But definitely not you.”

“Worried I’d be ‘unprofessional’?”

“That’s a given.” The tone was teasing, and Kit wanted to turn around and smile. But he resisted. No. Do not be drawn back into their banter. Parker didn’t deserve to be used and neither did Raine. Kit was on his own. Best way. He could rely on himself, trust himself. Anyone else would let him down in the end. Or want something he couldn’t give. Even Parker would change in the end and look for more than sex. And Raine?

Raine wanted everything. He wanted Kit body, heart, and soul. Kit wanted to give him all those things, but he couldn’t accept the same in return from Raine. Raine had a life here, and Kit wouldn’t let him throw it away. He’d rather leave Raine with good memories than let him grow to hate Kit for letting him give everything up. Love might be a kind of madness, but it was a passing madness.

“Kit.” He heard Raine take another step closer. “We should talk.”

He might as well have sounded the abandon-ship klaxon, the effect on Kit was the same. He scrambled off the bench. Raine stood between him and the exit, but Kit didn’t let that stop him. He must have taken Raine by surprise, as he didn’t react when Kit shoved past.

They should
not
talk. If they did, Raine would say something about getting back together, and Kit knew he’d weaken. He couldn’t let it happen. Breaking up when they did had been the right thing to do. Anything else would only lead to pain for both of them.

Chapter Eighteen

“Did you notice how tired Raine looked this morning?” Gracie asked Kit. She spoke quietly, with a glance back at Munro, their security guard for today’s supply run, following a couple of meters behind.

“Can’t say I did,” Kit said. Lied.

“He looks tired all the time these days.”

“Ain’t that a shame?” Kit leaned on the cart when they stopped, and Gracie loaded some boxes onto it. He rubbed his eyes. Raine wasn’t the only tired man around here.

“You should talk to him. He’s obviously missing you.”

“No. He ended it. It’s up to him to come and talk to me.” It sounded stubborn and even petty, but he couldn’t say more. He radiated as much of a “drop it” field as he could muster. Though he appreciated her concern for his happiness, she didn’t know how bad things had turned with Raine. Irrevocably bad. And she didn’t know about Kit’s choice to go it alone. No help from Raine or Parker or Gracie herself. If he asked her, she’d help him escape, but he couldn’t use her. She might have a less lofty position to lose than Raine or Parker, but she’d started to get things together. Kit would sooner go to prison than ruin it for her.

She left it alone, and they went on collecting stuff, under the bored gaze of Munro. They had almost reached the end of the list, the cart nearly full, when a klaxon sounded.

General quarters. Kit came to such an abrupt halt some supplies toppled from his cart. The klaxon had sounded several times over the last couple of weeks, announcing drills. Kit and Gracie stared at each other. Was this another drill?

No. Somewhere in the distance, they heard a boom, like something pounding against the hull. The deck vibrated under Kit’s feet.

“Oh my God!” Gracie gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth, eyes huge. Munro grabbed for his Link and confirmed their fears.

“It’s not a drill. They’re…shit, they’re already breaking in. We’re being boarded.” He drew his rifle, making Gracie and Kit both step back in alarm.

“Our place of safety,” Kit said. “It’s in the galley.”

“I’m not going to risk taking you through that far. You’re safer in here than trying to make it back to the galley. I have to go and join my squad.”

“You’re leaving us?” Gracie said. Munro looked torn but nodded.

“I’ve got to take my position.” He looked at Kit, a kind of man-to-man look, which said he expected him to step up and take responsibility. “Don’t worry. They probably won’t even come in here. You’ve got a million places to hide. So go vanish.”

Kit nodded, jaw stuck out, returning the man-to-man look. He drew Gracie close to him.
Got it handled
. But when Munro turned away and ran for the entrance, leaving the two of them alone, Kit had to admit to a certain amount of quaking in his boots.

* * *

“Security people moving to positions, Captain,” Raine said over his Link as he strode down a corridor, rifle slung on his back. “What about the noncombatants?”

“Most are already in their places of safety. Waiting for final reports.”