She could do this.
It had to be the right thing to do. The right thing, however, sucked. Something inside her felt broken and there’d be no mending it. She wanted to roll into a ball and hide in the corner, cry herself out. Instead she sat there and waited. The next ship wasn’t far away. She could do this.
“Loouuiiisse!”
Adam.
Christiana’s eyes widened and she gave her hair an irritated flick. “I’ll deal with this.”
“Okay.” Louise doubted the woman could deal with Adam on her best day, but there was no point objecting.
Louise couldn’t change her mind about leaving him. There was no going back. If he didn’t already suspect she’d lied to him about every last little thing, then he soon would. He’d use his army intelligence training and he’d find out. Then he’d hate her for sure. But worse, he just might make a target of himself. The wrong person could notice Adam asking questions and she couldn’t take the chance. Someone had said the wrong thing to the wrong person once at the DA’s office and one of her guards had ended up being tortured to death. It had happened right before they’d shoved her on the ship to come to Esther. Ample proof that the gangland bastards still had it burning fierce for her. She’d put one of their favorite sons on death row for killing Con. This was on her.
Adam would not get caught in the crossfire.
“Louise! Where are you?” he bellowed from beyond.
Her shoulders jerked and her face fell. The poor baby—he sounded so wounded. That and as mad as all hell.
“Princess!”
“Mrs. Elliot?” The guy from earlier was standing before her. Josh something. The pretty blond who’d brought her the good news in the garden.
“Yes?”
Christiana came bustling back in. She looked twitchy. Well riled up. “Security is holding him back. The man is completely unreasonable.”
Yes. He was. And she loved every unreasonable inch of him.
“I was just going to move Mrs. Elliot to a more secure location,” Josh informed her.
Christiana pulled out her com. “Oh I don’t think—”
Josh’s arm wound around the counselor’s neck in a heartbeat and he set his hand on the side of her head. Then he twisted. The crack of Christiana’s neck as it broke…gods, the sound. Louise almost wet herself in stark terror.
Christiana’s com unit fell from her dead hand and clattered to the ground.
“Don’t even make a peep,” the man told her. “But you’re not going to, are you? You wouldn’t want anything to happen to that idiot out there.”
She shook her head.
“Princess! Get out here.” Adam sounded closer than before—dangerously so.
The guy gave her a grim smile and Christiana’s limp body slid to the floor. “Thought as much.”
Fucker. No, she wouldn’t make a peep. But she wasn’t standing around and making it easy for him either.
Louise threw herself out of the chair and high-tailed it. Fear gave her fuel. The room had two doors and she made for the one farthest from him. He made a noise, some growly sound, and she just kept going. There was an endless white corridor with an occasional door featuring a cleaner’s cart decal. Useless—she ran on. Her pulse thudded like a stampede.
Adam yelled again behind her, called out her name. She had to get the murderous prick away from him—had to. Might be the last damn thing she ever did, but that would be okay. That would be fine. Escape would only ever be temporary, outgunned as she was. Deep down in some shadowy corner, she’d always known, or at least suspected. One day they’d get her.
Down the well-lit corridor she fled. At the end stood a big, old, clunky-looking sliding door, and it trotted open at a sloth’s pace as she approached. She heard a noise, a popping sound, coming from behind her. Fuck. He’d shot at her. She saw a little black circle beside her head, embedded in the wall. She might not be so lucky a second time.
The minute the door had opened enough for her to push herself through, she did so. Next came an icy, old corridor with red and brown rust stains running down the walls. Obviously, no one much came this way. The air smelled stale and faintly metallic. Behind her the door ground slowly shut and the prick slammed into it, banging impatiently against it because he couldn’t fit through where she could. She might die this time, but he would have to work for it, the prick.
Shit, shit, shit. Neither way looked promising. The long, frigid corridor must run through the outer wall of the colony. At least it led away from Adam.
Louise turned left and ran. The corridor went on and on. Behind her, the door squealed and complained as it opened slowly a second time. She had to be out of sight by the time it did—and where the hell was she, anyway? Where could she run to? Her shoes skid across a patch of ice and she went careening into the wall, bashing her elbow against the solid metal.