Page 2 of Double Bind (Cosmic Mates #6)

Planet Refuge, eight days later

I can’t believe I married this asshole. Amity glowered at Marshall Clark, but, engrossed in studying the flat, barren terrain, he didn’t notice, which pissed her off more. If justice still existed in the galaxy, he should at least be aware of her contempt.

Maybe if she’d had some time , she could have come up with a solution. But, everything had happened at warp speed, and she’d had to decide on the fly whether to go with her friend or stay on Terra Nova. The former meant she had to marry the man who used her or stay behind and spend life on the run from evil government operatives. She’d faced a double bind. There were no good options, and, frankly, she considered it a toss-up as to which was worse. Not an hour went by that she didn’t second-guess her decision and wish she’d chosen to take her chances with Dark Ops.

It’s not fair! I was an innocent bystander!

She averted her face from her husband-in-name-only and caught the gaze of her best friend, sitting beside her on the bench seat stretching across the wagon bed. Unlike her, newlywed Faith was ecstatic.

The men had taken up the “window seats” by the side gates in case they popped open.

“Don’t want to lose you,” Marshall had said, the sardonic twist to his mouth suggesting he wouldn’t be too upset if that happened.

If only he’d given some sign he wanted to marry me. But he hadn’t. He’d created the dilemma, placing her in a no-win situation, but he acted like he considered the marriage a major sacrifice and imposition.

The conveyance hit a bone-jarring bump, and she grimaced. My ass is going to be sore tomorrow. There was no padding on the hard wooden seat and no suspension. The conveyance reminded her of the horse-drawn wagons that crossed the prairie hundreds of years ago—except it was motored. The lucky driver sat in a climate-controlled cab. Passengers had been stowed in the rear with the luggage. Arriving with only the clothes on their backs, they’d each been given a duffel and secondhand clothing.

“I’m sorry things worked out this way,” Faith murmured.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you.” They’d both been victims of circumstances outside of their control. She rolled her shoulders, trying to dislodge the scratchy rice under her shirt. The overexuberant wedding officiant had pelted them with the grains.

“It’s my fault,” said John, Faith’s new husband.

Amity’s marriage kind of was his fault. His pursuit of Faith had set all of this in motion, but John wasn’t the one who’d wined and dined her, pretended to like her to gain information, and then kidnapped her, thus forcing her into a fait accompli . She scowled at Marshall.

“I don’t blame you, either,” she said to John.

Marshall looked at her then, his expression as readable as words on a page. But you blame me?

Yes, yes I do!

She wasn’t stupid. Logically, she knew the situation was complicated.

Both men were clones, and, until very recently, indentured to Dark Ops, a clandestine government agency operating outside the law. Cloned from Faith’s late husband, John had fallen in love with her from afar. He wasn’t supposed to have any contact with her, to prevent anyone from learning about the top-secret cloning program.

But Amity had signed Faith up for Cosmic Mates. Fearing Faith would remarry, John had rushed to Terra Nova with Dark Ops agents, including Marshall, hot on his tail. Intending to desert, Marshall tried to rescue his former subordinate and secure sanctuary for both of them. But the other agents had captured Faith and planned to eliminate Amity as a witness.

That’s what Marshall had explained to her, anyway. She had no recollection of the events because he had “rescued” her by drugging and abducting her. One minute, she’d been searching for her missing friend, and the next, she’d awakened on a spaceship headed to Planet Refuge.

Upon arrival, she could have returned to Terra Nova, but Dark Ops might have hunted her down. Planet Refuge, which granted sanctuary to persecuted peoples, was the only place in the galaxy where safety was guaranteed.

But her and Faith’s asylum requests had been denied, failing to meet some arbitrary threat threshold.

The former Dark Ops agents whose applications had been accepted were allowed to bring wives.

Marshall had selflessly offered to marry her.

A pity marriage had been the only way to guarantee her safety. Besides, she hadn’t wanted to be separated from her best friend who counted as her only family. If Amity had remained on Terra Nova, she would have no one. She’d always assumed that by now, she’d have a husband and a couple of near-grown kids, but at the ripe old age of forty-two, she’d never married.

Until now, she reminded herself. Be careful what you wish for.

A Cosmic Mates officiant, a purple alien named Ju-Ju, had performed the double wedding ceremony. While she and Marshall weren’t a Cosmic Mates matchup, Ju-Ju was the only officiant on the planet, so she performed all the weddings.

Her groom had stood stony-faced through the ceremony, delivering his “I do” with such terseness even the officiant had looked embarrassed.

Don’t worry, asshole. You won’t have to be married to me one second longer than necessary.

As soon as she could, she would invoke the escape clause and dump his muscular ass.

Marriages performed by Cosmic Mates were provisional. Couples got to try on matrimony for a year. At the end of the period, the spouses were free to walk away. If they stayed together, then the union became permanent.

Per Refuge rules, she had to stay married for a year or lose her spousal sanctuary. But as soon as she’d served her sentence, she intended to part company. Perhaps he saw himself as noble, sacrificing himself so she could get sanctuary, but she couldn’t forgive or forget how he had feigned feelings for her, holding her hand, charming her, complimenting her, smiling like he was thrilled to be with her, and kissing her good night with a tender fervor that had curled her toes. Like a gullible fool, she’d fallen for the act.

The story of my life. What is wrong with me that no man wants me?

The conveyance hit another rut, tossing her into Marshall’s lap. He steadied her, his hands on her shoulders. Amity jerked away. He returned to studying the barren tundra.

She had thought the bucolic Terra Nova desolate, but it was a metropolis compared to this planet. Where were all the people? She hoped the settlement they were going to was at least as big as Willow Wood, but it didn’t look promising. She’d seen neither village nor vehicle since leaving the intake center two hours ago, only kilometers and kilometers of stubble grass and stands of gnarled, mutant trees.

An icy blast of wind rocked the conveyance, cutting through gaps in the sheeting covering the wagon bed. Rusty, Faith’s cat corralled in a crate, let out a complaining meow.

I feel the same way , kitty. She shivered in her donated coat. Faith’s husband wrapped a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders, and she snuggled against him. Amity’s husband stared out the window.

She loved her friend, wished only for her happiness, but she couldn’t prevent a pang of envy at the closeness Faith shared with her new husband. I want that, too!

Marshall’s nose seemed to be glued to the plastic-like sheeting.

But not with him.

“Look! Over there!” John pointed to a herd of shaggy gray animals grazing on his side of the conveyance.

“They’re rhino-cow-horses!” Amity leaned over to gape at the six-legged stout alien animals. Long horse-like faces ended in a curved rhino horn. Sharp elk-like antlers sprouted from their heads.

“They’re called hornigers,” Marshall said. “They’re one of the few native mammals on Refuge. They’re hunted for food, but there’s also a domestication program underway to tame them for riding.”

He speaks! His spiel was the most words he’d uttered since he’d laid out the situation when she’d awakened after being tranqued. Not that she desired to have a conversation with him. She’d prefer he never spoke to her again.

“How do you know?” Faith asked.

“I make it my business to know.”

Supercilious asshat.

“The other animal used for food is a bird called an egger ,” he added.

“I’ll bet it tastes like chicken,” Faith quipped.

Amity and John laughed. Marshall did not. “One shouldn’t assume.”

“It was a joke!” she burst out in defense of her friend.

“Right.” He turned back to the monotonous scenery.

She made a face behind his back—then, to her chagrin, caught her reflection in the clear plastic covering. No doubt he’d seen her mocking him. Oh well. She hadn’t done anything behind his back that she hadn’t said out loud.

But he was right that making assumptions wasn’t wise. She’d learned that through unfortunate experience. She’d assumed his solicitous demeanor and gallantry meant he liked her.

Another gust of wind rattled through the conveyance, and Amity hugged herself. “I wonder how much longer till we get to Artisan’s Loft.”

“Assuming we maintain our present rate of speed, about another hour,” Marshall said.

“You can’t possibly tell how fast we’re going,” she countered.

“I don’t have to. I know how long we’ve been traveling, and I spotted a distance marker.”

“Well, aren’t you the observant one?”

Her butt couldn’t wait to get out of the vehicle, but she did not look forward to reaching Artisan’s Loft and being alone with Marshall. It’s going to be a long year.