Shepherd laughed, the rich sound that came out was beautiful when suspicion did not alter the tone. For just a moment, she was struck by the splendor of his smile. He kissed her long and deep. “Then I shall feed you. I will care for my mate and our child.”

“I want raspberries.”

The nature of his arms around her grew gentle. “I always make sure there are raspberries on the premises for you.”

“I know you do.”

Walking through the door with a scowl and bruised jaw was not exactly the picture Corday wanted to present to Leslie Kantor. She did not respond with favor to perceived weakness, and he needed her to keep him in her counsel. Brigadier Dane had been right. Leslie’s talk of saving Claire had diminished. But, there had been a spark in her the second Corday handed over his analyzed maps of the Citadel, his notes, and tested her. “You might be right. Claire may have betrayed us. If your rebels can find her, there should be a trial.”

He did this because he loved Claire. He did it because he knew Brigadier Dane was the only soldier who might actually care if the Omega lived.

Leslie’s subtle hints had done their work. Around the Premier’s Sector, the name Claire O’Donnell had become a whispered curse. He’d seen their contempt when the few rebels chosen for the rescue mission absorbed their orders. He felt it every time Leslie spoke of Shepherd’s mate.

Day by day, he trusted Lady Kantor less. Day by day, he silently prayed for Claire.

Today, his prayers were answered. The morning had started simply enough. Scrounging for supplies was second nature at this point. Corday knew what to watch for, who not to look in the eye while he scuttled through the causeways.

Armed with Callas’ data cubes, the rebels now knew exactly how to craft explosives, where certain chemicals were stored, and likely locations of other supplies the rebellion’s growing numbers might use.

Once Leslie’s list of necessities had been acquired, Corday began the journey back to the Premier’s Sector, aware he was a target the second his hands were full of anything that could be deemed useful to another.

When the thugs came, Corday simply offered the box of random items to the three unwashed men, unable to reach his gun with his hands full. Before his supplies had even hit the ground, a boney fist connected with his jaw. He’d hit the snow, somewhat surprised a man so skinny packed such a punch. Another got him with a cheap shot to the kidney just as Corday saw the third pull a knife.

A shot was fired… but not from Corday’s gun.