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Chapter One

Demeter Science Station

Three Years and Seven Months Later

Wren launched herself off the tower crane, piercing the dark emptiness of space.

She flew forward, her breath hitching while she waited for the whiplash of her ankle harnesses keeping her tethered.

Below was the umber-periwinkle of Pluto, orbited by other stations, satellites, and tourist ships.

Behind her was the Demeter Science Station, her home. For now.

Silence reigned, ruined only by her breathing. So she held it for as long as she could.

Some feared the nothingness around her. Others hated the loneliness. She relished both, savoring every moment spent in peace.

As many times as she did this, it didn’t fix the state of her life. When her boots hit the station walkway, every horrible thought about her situation slammed into her.

Wrongly convicted of corporate espionage? Check.

One stupid hack… She’d gotten cocky. The stakes had been too high, but the rewards, had she succeeded, would’ve set her parents up for life. Of course, she hadn’t covered her ass. What she’d done for the good of Earth had been twisted by an E.A.F. prosecutor.

Stripped of computer privileges? Check.

Her tech skills had defined her for most of her life. She’d had to find another her, dig deeper into her psyche. No matter what she did, a piece of her was missing. And she had two years left of her five-year tech ban before she might feel whole again.

Considered a snob by many because of her education? Check.

Sure, she’d landed her job with the welding skills her father had taught her, but thanks to her finishing school elocution, the maintenance staff didn’t treat her as one of the crew.

Couldn’t talk to scientists and engineers because of her criminal record? Check.

Not welcome in the slums nor among the science teams left her on her own. As she liked it.

But this… She drew in a deep breath and hummed in contentment.

Few things kept her sane: bungee-jumping into space, tending to her bonsai, a long pull of splice, and her alien romance smut.

Some poor E.A.F. agent had to read it, too—just to be sure ‘well-endowed alien dragon shifters’ wasn’t code for something else. She giggled.

“Pony, get back here,” Dallas snapped, then cleared his throat from a perpetual tickle—louder through her helmet’s speakers.

She gritted her teeth. ‘Rainbow Pony’ had been her initial nickname, so named for her colorful hair. Unfortunately, that sobriquet had been too long for anyone to keep up.

“I closed out my shift. Can’t you just leave me the hell alone?” She waited and prayed he was done talking to her.

“Seems like your usual suicidal dive has stirred up the tourists. A dozen calls to emergency services have the powers-that-be coming down on my head as your unlucky supervisor. Get your feet onto solid metal. I dunno how many times I’ve asked you to not do this when folks are awake.”

She scowled, glanced once more at Pluto and Jupiter beyond, the sun’s rays starting to reach her. “Shit,” she muttered. “Gimme five minutes.”

“You have two. Station-Sec’s on their way already.”

She groaned. “Thanks for the heads-up, boss.”

Tapping the heels of her mag boots, she activated the boosters and spun, shooting toward the crane. If…she…could…just…reach—

“Ah, come on, Turner,” Clemence whined on the maintenance frequency. “I thought it was you causing havoc again.” Station-Sec slowed their shuttle beside her, its orange exterior too bright in the weak sunlight. He hung out of the gaping compartment, his focus on her.

“Sorry, sir. Forgot the time.” She winced. All lies.

“I’ll take it from here.” Pierce emerged from behind Clemence and leaped out, crossing the short distance to fall in beside her. He maneuvered well with his boosters, making it seem effortless.

“Very well, sir.” Clemence saluted him then double-slapped the inside of the shuttle.

She stared at its disappearing engines, choosing not to talk. Awkward silences were her domain and preference.

“Ms. Turner,” Pierce said, his husky baritone tingling her ears.

“Captain,” she said, smothering a grin. When she was younger, she’d nicknamed him Happy—Harold Antony Pierce.

He’d known her since she was a teenager, and she suspected he acted like her brothers expected him to. She had two and didn’t need a third. There was no doubt in her mind that he updated Leon weekly. He had, in fact, chosen sides.

“Lovely day for a little sightseeing.”

“Indeed,” she said. “My apologies for disturbing your morning.”

“I’d prefer it be you than a kid out on a joyride.” His long-suffering tone sliced guilt across her conscience.

“I’m tethered, wearing certified ankle harnesses, with a full tank of oh-two,” she hurried to say, aware they weren’t alone on the comms.

She touched down on the metal frame of the tower crane, wide enough for her to walk along. Her boots’ magnetic locks cut off the boosters and allowed her to stick to the structure. Sure, she was at a 67.3-degree angle, but up and down played no real part on a spinning station.

“Let me escort you back,” Pierce said, pointing at the hatch more than a hundred meters away.

Giving him a glare had no impact when wearing a space suit.

She’d hoped to have a few more minutes while she removed her harnesses and fixed them at the base of the crane.

Instead, she grabbed the tether and pulled herself toward the anchor point.

She cast a glance at the clasps she’d welded to the side of the station, hoping Pierce didn’t spot them.

To a layman, they looked like they belonged to the crane’s support plates.

If he knew she’d left clasps all over the station, her not-so-clean record would carry a warning she couldn’t afford.

Forcing a casualness she was far from feeling, she unclipped the tether from her ankle harnesses and the hook.

With her gaze fixed on the distant stars, she looped the cord around her shoulder and elbow then, once coiled, slipped it over her head and torso.

All this time, he hovered, his presence encroaching on her personal space.

“Is this necessary? I’m not a child,” she snapped. He took his brotherly chore too seriously.

He said nothing, just nudged his head. He expected her to leap off and propel herself into the airlock the quickest way possible.

She gritted her teeth, deactivated her mag boots, and floated.

Before she went too far, she used her toes to push off the crane.

The momentum alone was enough for her to glide across.

She caught the handle on the side of the round door then flipped to lock her feet to the metallic bulkhead.

He did the same but wasted no time in opening the hatch. She crawled through, headfirst.

Once inside the hexagonal airlock, he sealed the hatch and smacked the re-pressurization button.

When the red lighting flickered to white and their feet hit the floor with the full gravity the station could create, he unfastened his helmet, tugging it off to reveal his handsome features.

Green eyes twinkled, and that silly smirk he always wore was firmly in place. Happy suited his ass.

“Up for a little breakfast?” he asked.

She removed her helmet and tucked it under her arm. With a puff, her bangs no longer blocked her vision.

“You mean dinner?” she teased; after all, she’d just finished her day shift when he was starting his.

Day-night simulation meant everyone worked the day shift.

It was always daytime somewhere on Demeter.

“Doesn’t seem like a befitting punishment for my ‘joyride:’ my steak versus your scrambled eggs. ”

Like she could afford actual meat, but she didn’t mention that.

“True.” The bay door opened to one of the station’s many passages. “I bought you as much time as I could.” He gestured to her to lead the way.

Her boots thunked on the metal grill, gravity weighing heavy on her limbs and soul.

Buying her time meant he’d known she was out there. She leveled a scowl at him. “How are you tracking me?”

“I have a man on Turner duty twenty-four-seven.” He tossed a grin. “You can thank Leon for that.”

She groaned. Even from Earth, her older brother had his way. “When I accepted your job offer, you didn’t once mention this…perk.” She’d hoped distance would, well, give her some peace and independence.

Pierce chuckled. “All part of our employee retention package.”

“Coffee would be appreciated,” she said, watching his expressions for even a flinch at the cost.

“Now that’s an invitation I can’t refuse.”

Shit . She had to pay? Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot while the elevator climbed to their level.

“Meet you at Coffeeholics in ten?” he said when the cage door opened.

“Sure.” She stepped inside and held his gaze while the door shut on his signature smirk. “Damn it,” she muttered, pinching her brow to ward off an impending headache.

The elevator door opened. She trudged out, heading to her unit.

Six by three meters encompassed her privacy.

A large porthole at the end looked out at pipes.

At least she had an outside view. If she pressed her cheek to the glass, she might catch a glimpse of stars.

She had to flip her bed up to shower. The kitchen was less than a meter wide, housing a rehydrator and a disposal unit.

The toilet slid out when needed and was ‘well-placed’ beside her wardrobe.

Whoever had designed these units was an idiot.

A light flashed above the ‘kitchen,’ announcing she had a voice message waiting. Few people checked in on her, and what friends she had, well, they’d vanished the second she was arrested. Which meant the caller was family.