Colonist's Wife

So while it might be preferable for her to tell him in her own sweet time, he wouldn’t be waiting around. If she hadn’t been afraid, it might have been a different story, but she was. His wife was scared of something, and it wouldn’t do.

 

He found the person he needed lounging against a shuttle, flicking through reports on his com unit. How the man could manage to look as if he had a cocktail in his hand in the middle of the hangar, he had no idea. It seemed a gift peculiar to Nathan Hillier. Because of his dapper ways, many had underestimated him—to their loss.

 

“We need to talk,” he told the chief.

 

Nathan cocked a brow. “We tried that. I don’t think I’m up to another scuffle just yet. The rib still hurts. They had to tape it.”

 

“Don’t be such a baby. And I mean talk about Louise. She needs help.”

 

The chief straightened and slipped his com unit into a pocket. “What do you need?”

 

“Information. A full background check.”

 

“How deep we going to have to dig, Ad?”

 

Adam stared off into the distance. A storm was drawing closer. He could see it gathering, through the wide hangar bay doors. Heavy gray clouds hung low over the equally gray landscape. A shuttle powered up not too far away, the whine of the engines loud enough to make conversation an issue. Lights flashed red and white as it moved slowly out and mechanics scurried out of its path.

 

“She got out here,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the noise. “Got through all those background tests. I’m thinking whatever we’re looking for, it’s not going to be just lying around, waiting for us to find it.”

 

“All right, let’s bring Bon in on this. Might be useful to have the questions coming from corp security.”

 

Adam nodded slowly. “Louise isn’t her real name. I’m sure of it.”

 

The chief narrowed his eyes on him. “Is she your wife, Adam?”

 

He got what the man was asking him, and there could only be one answer. “Absolutely.”

 

“Well, all right then. Let’s get to work.”

 

 

 

Something hit Louise’s face. Hard. It smacked into her cheekbone, sending pain streaking through her. Next there was yelling. They’d found her.

 

She scrambled off the side of the bed in a panic. The sensors tracked her movement and lit the room with a warm glow. Her pulse beat like a bass drum in her head, her heart hammering as she tried to breathe. She’d been fast asleep, what with it being almost midnight, but not now.

 

Damn. The side of her face throbbed hotly.

 

She spun around and searched the space with manic eyes. Nothing. The domicile appeared empty of anyone but her and Adam. What the hell?

 

He lay in the middle of the bed, his body coated in sweat, head thrashing from side to side on the pillow. The sheets had long since been kicked off.

 

A nightmare. He was having a nightmare. His arm lay across her half of the bed.

 

“No!” he suddenly bellowed.

 

“Adam.” She crawled back onto the bed, wary of his waving hands. “Adam, wake up.”

 

With eyes shut, he shuddered, mouth gaping, gasping in air as if he were choking. As if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room.

 

“Adam. Baby, wake up. Look at me.” Louise straddled his chest, pinning down his thick shoulders with her hands. Muscles flexed and strained beneath her—he could easily hurt her again without knowing. His big hands gripped her shoulders painfully and his blue eyes stared at her without comprehension.

 

“Hey. It’s all right. You’re safe,” she crooned, ignoring the pinch of his fingers digging into her. “It’s okay. You’re home in bed with me. Look at me, Adam.”

 

He blinked, rapid-fire. “Princess?”

 

“Yes. It’s me.”

 

Adam sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and his hands fell from her, back onto the mattress. “Shit. I’m sorry.” His body tensed beneath her. “I’m all sweaty, I’d better go—”

 

Louise tightened her thighs against his hips and bent over him, pressing him back onto the bed. “Don’t even think about it, buster.”

 

He made a noise in his throat. It sounded vaguely aggrieved. Too bad.

 

“Shhh.” She kissed the side of his face, set an elbow by his head and kissed him some more, nuzzling the strong line of his cheek and jaw. The salty sweat on his skin soon coated her lips. “Just relax.”

 

Slowly, slowly, his breathing eased. The gentle push of his rib cage against her breasts calmed.

 

“That’s it,” she whispered.

 

He skimmed his hand up her arms, gave her a friendly, dismissive pat. His face remained the picture of unhappiness. Even with all the bruising, there could be no mistaking his frown. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I woke you.”

 

“I don’t suppose you want to talk about your nightmare?”

 

“No. Thank you.”

 

“So polite,” she said. “Do you get these nightmares often?”

 

He looked at her in the low lighting, blue eyes like the sky after a storm or something equally poetic. She didn’t have words for how wonderful she found him. Nor could she tell him that she understood. That she used to have nightmares too. Lying to Adam left a bad taste in her mouth. It coated her tongue and slid down her throat. Someday soon it might choke her. She hated it.