Page 23 of Rafe

Rafe grinned at Jade. Two could play at his little game.

Jade didn’t smile back.

But when he offered her his arm this time, she took it.

A service bot slid after them as they exited the train and headed down toward the caboose to reclaim their deer and sleigh.

Things were admittedly not looking great.

Rafe had been accused of murder, and he was unable to leave the moon. His intended mate was under suspicion of being his accomplice. All of which would mean the tiny whelp, that he harbored bigger feelings for than he cared to admit, was in immediate danger of being trundled into whatever passed for social services on this backwater moon.

But when Jade slid her hand around his arm, and the brisk wind carried her scent to him, somehow, he felt a giddiness he had never experienced before.

We’re home, he said to himself, not even sure what he meant.

“Bah,” Gus yelled happily, opening and closing his little hands as if to greet the sky.

When Jade bent her head to kiss the little one’s fragrant curls, Rafe knew she wasn’t broken just yet. She was no ordinary, helpless Terran. And the way she’d handled herself so far made a little voice in the back of his head ask a question he probably should have thought of long before now.

Who are you, Jade Gatlin?

9

JADE

Jade looked around the tiny town, her pulse still racing with adrenaline from the encounter with the sheriff.

The gray-green of the lichen over the tundra stones still stretched out as far as her eyes could see in every direction. And near the ridge on the horizon, a couple of floating islands drifted lazily as the sun began to dip in the sky.

But the near distance was dotted with brightly colored homes. Vivid blues, purples, oranges, and even yellows brought the landscape to life, as if the owners were fighting to break free of the monochromatic nature of the place.

Ahead of them, a worn path toward those houses ran through a tiny shopping district with maybe five buildings on each side.

“Bee-bee-baw,” Gus said happily, waving his hands at the colorful houses.

“Those are such pretty colors,” she murmured to him. “Aren’t they?”

Gus sucked his lower lip into his mouth and kept waving to the homes, tugging at her heartstrings with his cuteness.

“Need a hand getting up?” Rafe offered.

“I’m fine,” she said without looking at him.

She grabbed on with one hand and swung herself up into the sleigh.

The bench seat was as small as before, and Rafe just as big. There would be no avoiding being pressed to his side.

She wrapped a fur around herself and Gus and tried not to think about it. But it was no use.

Did Rafe really just kill a man?

It was a ridiculous thought. Rafe was a professional soldier. He didn’t kill people because he was offended or angry.

But if he’s a soldier, he’s killed before. Maybe it gets easier the more you do it. To him, it might be like swatting a fly.

“Ready?” Rafe asked as he swung himself up onto the seat next to her.

His deep voice sounded cheerful, which made no sense on several levels. Did it make sense to be happy when a man had been killed? Did it make sense to be happy when you were the prime suspect?

---