Starfall (Starflight #2)(48)
To ease the burn, she blew lightly on his abdomen. He gasped, and she immediately glanced up, expecting to find him hurt. But the heated expression in his eyes told her he wouldn’t mind if she did it again.
She knew that look.
She had seen it a dozen times on Kane’s face, most recently on the afternoon she’d spent with him in his bunk. The sobering thought jerked her to her senses. She felt a stab of guilt, but she couldn’t tell for whom.
She cleared her throat and stood up. “You wanted to talk to me?”
Jordan raised both brows.
“You said it was important,” she prompted.
“Oh.” He seemed to catch on, straightening in his chair and swallowing hard. “Yes. It’s about Kane Arric.”
“What about him?”
“It’s not hearsay anymore. I have evidence that he’s assisting the rebels.” Jordan arched against the seatback to pull up his pants. “He activated his old credit account on the day he returned to Eturia. The balance wasn’t much, but it was enough to buy a large amount of ammonium nitrate. It’s used for building bombs.”
“And for fertilizing soil,” she pointed out. “His mother lives on a farm. He probably bought it for her.”
“Maybe. But remember when the rebels tried to raid our fuel station?”
“What about it?”
“They used nitrate bombs as a diversion. That’s when we started tracking ammonium nitrate purchases. Kane’s was the largest and most recent. That can’t be a coincidence.” Jordan lifted a hand as if anticipating her next words. “Before you defend him, let me finish. Yesterday my men found a rebel in our ranks. A soldier in the second battalion. He admitted during questioning that he asked Kane to gather information from you and report back with anything useful.”
“Then he’s lying, because Kane would never do that. Who’s your source?”
“Norton Shalvis. His nickname is Badger.”
The name put a hitch in her pulse. Kane had received at least two transmissions from Badger, and those were just the ones she knew about. But the calls had made sense. Badger was looking after Kane’s mom. “All right, they’ve spoken to each other, but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“There’s more,” Jordan said. “The royal armory was looted. All the rifles we collected from the volunteers are gone.”
She swore under her breath. More weapons in rebel hands—it was her worst nightmare. “I thought you moved the armory to the old grain silo.”
“I did. I drove the weapons there and unloaded them myself. And I didn’t tell a soul about it, not even my next-in-command. You and I were the only ones who knew.” He raised a brow at her. “Did you mention anything about it to Kane?”
“No,” she said. But as soon as the word left her lips, she recalled that Kane had been waiting right outside the door when she and Jordan had discussed moving the armory. He could’ve easily overheard the conversation and told someone the new location.
A chill rolled down her spine.
“Be careful what you share with him.” Jordan pointed toward the cargo hold, where a distant groan of pain rang out. “I buried three good men today and I’ll go home with nine injured, all because somebody talked to Fleece. I doubt Kane is the mafia’s mole. He wants a cure as much as we do. But you might tell him something else, something related to the fight back home, and that might end up costing more lives.”
Cassia nodded as a heavy weight shrouded her heart. She didn’t want to lose any more men, and yet she hated herself for questioning her best friend. She busied her hands by reassembling the med-kit, but it didn’t offer any distraction from her thoughts.
“Don’t worry. I know who I can trust.”
The Hypersonic Deluxe lived up to its reputation.
Kane reached speeds fast enough to strip him bald and peel the brown off his skin. The dashboard gauge indicated he could increase velocity by another twenty percent, but he stuck to his pace. Any faster and he might travel through time.
Besides, he was almost there.
He’d been listening to the exchange between Renny and Doran, whose com-link had come online about an hour ago. Someone must’ve placed a tracker on the Banshee’s shuttle, because no matter where Doran hid, the Origin followed. That alone didn’t pose a threat, but the half-ton pulse cannon mounted to its hull did. One direct shot at the shuttle and Fleece would succeed in dispatching another pirate lord.
Kane didn’t have much of a plan, but he figured he’d start by piloting alongside Doran to see if he could find and dislodge the tracking beacon. Using his com-link, he locked on to the Banshee’s ever-moving position and followed it until he spotted the ship barrel-rolling to escape a blast of cannon fire.
“I see Renny, but not the shuttle,” Kane said through the link. “Where are you hiding, Doran? Let’s see if I can shake your tracker loose.”
Solara’s voice came through the link. “We’re under an abandoned hangar at thirty-nine degrees north, eighty-four degrees west.”
Kane set the coordinates and veered left. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the Origin mirroring his flight pattern. It was like Fleece had overheard the conversation. “Never mind the beacon. I think Fleece is hacking our transmissions.”