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I felt choked because I had an idea who’d stolen that code from me. But I didn’t feel like sharing it with the captain yet, not until I could prove my suspicion. “Give me half an hour to run a cross-data check.”
“You do that.”
“By your leave, sir.”
“Granted.”
I exited the captain’s office semi-running. My mind kicked into high gear as I started to see connections I’d been too blind to see these past months. I went to the aft of the ship where the senior officer cabins were located and headed right to Mac’s. Even though we’d been engaged, we’d still maintained separate living quarters. I punched Mac’s code on the keypad and the door whispered open.
Mac’s room was empty. Like any of the s
enior officers in the ship, his cabin consisted of one bedroom, a small kitchen, and a common room. I headed straight to his bedroom and started looking for clues. About three standard weeks ago, after he’d misplaced our nuptial agreement documents, Mac had suggested we share a personal vault to store our precious belongings, important papers, money, and work-related data disks. Mac was unorganised when it came to his personal matters. But I should have known. His forgetfulness had only been a cover so he could access my personal vault and steal my secret codes and keys.
The first thing I opened was his wardrobe closet. All of his clothes were still there—his shoes, his personal belonging and his duffel bags. It seemed he hadn’t planned on leaving yet. But I could have been wrong. I tore his closet apart, then his bed and drawers to see if I could find any device he might have used to communicate with the Froste Intelligence Agency. I found nothing. I was in the middle of dismantling the lavatory’s ceilings when I heard somebody come behind me. It was Mac.
“Looking for something, Violet?” he asked me icily.
I jumped down from the sink and stared him straight in the eyes. “Tell me you didn’t steal that code from me, Mac.”
He didn’t answer, only stared at me with a sullen look. He pulled out a plasma rifle and swung his arm, hitting me across the head. The world around me blackened.
I woke up with a bitchy headache and a dull throbbing in my temples. I could feel there was a gash where he’d butted me with his plasma rifle, but the blood that had dripped on my cheek had started to coagulate.
“Don’t even think of shifting,” Mac warned me when he saw me stirring. “See what you’re wearing?”
I looked down and saw he’d fitted me with a ballistic vest. Only I knew better. The vest was rigged with explosives. “What the fuck?”
“That’s right, babe. If you try one of your heroism monkeyshines again, I’ll blow you to pieces.”
I couldn’t believe he would do that to me. Mac, the man I almost married. The man I thought was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. I felt numb. The revelation shocked me more than when I’d found him banging his own assistant. How could I have been so blind?
Sharp pain sliced through my heart. Betrayal hurt more than salt to a wound. “Tell me the truth, was it all lies, all this time we’ve been together?”
“No hard feelings, cupcake. It was only business.”
“You seduced me, asked me to marry you just so you could get access to the vault? That’s fucking low, Mac.”
“No, it’s a standard practice in espionage.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I felt cold all of a sudden. Chilled to the bone. “Are you a Froste agent?”
“I’m a freelancer, selling to the highest bidder.” Mac motioned me to get up from the floor.
I scrambled up half-heartedly.
“You’re going to get me out of here. No one is allowed to leave Orient Fevre during the lockdown, except you and Captain Hawk.”
“Forget it, Mac. I don’t care if you blow me up. I’ll make sure you die with me. Then I’ll haunt you to eternity.”
Mac snarled. “You don’t understand the gravity of our situation, do you? I must get to the Froste system in forty-eight standard hours. I’ve rigged one gigaton of explosives from the last transit in Ernye for an occasion like this. I’ll blow up the ship if you don’t do what I tell you. More than a thousand people will die with us. Your choice, darling.”
“You’re a two-timing, sick bastard.”
“It’s leverage.” Mac threw a small towel at me.
I caught it.
“Wipe your face and let’s go.”
