Free Defying Fate by S. M. Reine Page A

across the airstrip.
    “Come to see me off?” Malcolm asked. “How sweet. You shouldn’t have. Really .”
    Zettel ignored him.
    “Change of plans, Krista. The witch escorts have been diverted to search the forest. You’re getting a free trip to Italy. Congratulations.” Then he addressed Malcolm. “What did you do?”
    “What? I think a man has every right to complain about being forced to listen to NPR.”
    Zettel closed a meaty fist on Malcolm’s shirt, jerking him down to eye-level. “James Faulkner is gone and your cell door was open. What the fuck did you do?”
    “James Faulkner’s gone? Gone from where?”
    “From the detention center. We arrested him in Fallon. You colluded with him to escape.”
    Oh, lovely. The Union had tried to take James into custody. There was no way that could go poorly.
    “Believe it or not, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Malcolm said. “And we’ve never been best mates. Jim has no interest in rescuing me. He’d probably throw a little party for my execution, in fact.”
    Zettel glowered. “I’m going to find him. And when I do, and he confirms your involvement…”
    “I’ll be arrested for treason and sent to Italy HQ? Oh, no. Please don’t do that .”
    “Get him on the plane,” the commander said. Krista couldn’t salute with her good arm holding the gun, so she just nodded, then followed Malcolm closely as he mounted the stairs.
    He maintained his very best devil-may-care smile until the moment he stepped into the jet.
    Malcolm hadn’t allowed himself to fantasize about escaping, but if he had, he wouldn’t have imagined the rescue involving James Faulkner.
    The airplane door shut with a heavy thud , and it sounded like a tomb sealing behind him.
    “You should reconsider the quickie,” he told Krista. “I’m pretty sure I’m about to die, and it would be great for morale.” She rolled her eyes. “No last wish for a dying man?”
    “You’re not dying.”
    “You don’t know James Faulkner,” Malcolm muttered, too quietly for her to hear.
    She sighed and set down her gun. “Come here.”
    Krista unlocked his handcuffs. Being able to move his arms again felt sinfully good.
    “You’re a peach. A delicious, sexy peach,” he said.
    “Sit down.”
    “All right, all right.”
    Malcolm took a window seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. If nothing else, the leather chairs were comfortable. He was a prisoner in style.
    The engines roared to life just seconds later. They must have been in a hurry to get rid of him.
    He watched through the window as Zettel stormed around the airstrip, acting like the bossy little bitch that he was. Malcolm tried to find satisfaction in seeing him puff and holler, but his sense of humor seemed to have mysteriously vanished. It had been replaced with a feeling like falling down a long, dark hole with piranhas at the bottom.
    Krista put a hand to her earpiece. “What do you mean, a helicopter got stolen?” she asked, eyes unfocused as she listened. “The medical copter? But it’s here at the airport. I saw it parked behind our jet.”
    Malcolm sat up. “What did you just say?”
    She thumbed the earpiece, turning off the speaker. “One of our helicopters got taken by Zane St. Vil—a kopis that was at HQ for medical care. But if St. Vil took the helicopter, and it’s at the airstrip now…”
    The pilot’s compartment opened. When Malcolm saw who stepped through, he started laughing, and he couldn’t seem to stop.
    James Faulkner was looking thoroughly old these days. He used to have the kind of perfect hair that a gentleman spy would have envied, but now it was going gray. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. He was also wearing a Union uniform.
    The plane began to inch forward. Krista stood and aimed at him.
    “Don’t shoot,” Malcolm said.
    Wonder of wonders, she listened to him.
    “James Faulkner,” Krista said, bracing the gun at her hip. “You’re under arrest.”
    “No, actually,