Free No Rules by Jenna McCormick Page A

shiny public image, was an abusive drunk. He never went after me or my sister, but Mom was fair game. He was a smart son of a bitch too. Never hit her face or anywhere that wouldn’t be covered by clothing. I think he knew that she didn’t really want to be with him, and he resented her for that.”
    Fenton’s throat closed up. “A man should always protect the woman in his care. On my world he would have been banished to the Northlands for such actions.”
    â€œIf only. No one knew, other than Lola. When my mother finally decided to leave him, she had no money, nowhere to go. Lola took us in. We lived with her for years, until he found her. Found them.”
    She paused in her narrative, her eyes filled with emotion. She wouldn’t cry, though. Alison wasn’t a crier, especially not in public. She had a warrior’s heart, and he couldn’t help admiring the hell out of her.
    â€œHe killed them, with a laser rifle. I was away at college, and Sally was at a friend’s house. I think he planned it that way, planned to make it look like a break-in gone wrong, but Lola had compiled a file against him. I didn’t know about it until after the fact. She’d been trying to convince Mom to report him to the authorities. Mom was too scared, though, of his power, his connections. She thought he’d forget about her and leave us alone. It was a mistake that cost her her life.”
    Fenton closed his eyes, squeezed her hand. He didn’t offer her any words of comfort because they were just that—words, empty and meaningless. Tragic loss was heartbreaking and soul-crushing. No doubt the trauma she’d suffered had shaped her entire life. That she’d survived and even flourished afterward impressed the hell out of him.
    â€œSo he had to pay for his actions?”
    She withdrew her hand, offered him a reassuring smile. “Life sentence, which turned out to be only six months. He died in a prison riot.”
    â€œSo justice was served.”
    â€œI guess.” A shadow crossed her face and he wondered what she was thinking.
    Their meals were served, an assortment of delicacies from stuffed gourds to spiced meats. Alison picked at the offerings on her plate, but without her usual zest.
    â€œAren’t you hungry?”
    She shook her head. “My appetite’s gone.”
    He stood and pressed his thumb to the menu, paying for the meal and ordering the same dishes to her room in three hours. “Let’s go.”
    Extending his arm he waited.
    â€œYou haven’t eaten anything.” Those beautiful multihued eyes scrutinized his face.
    His hand went to his scar automatically, wishing it wasn’t a part of him, that she wasn’t forced to behold such ugliness when her life’s cup spilled over with it. “I’m fine. I want to show you the ship.”
    She took his arm, then stood on her toes to kiss the ruined flesh on his face. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
    If only he could believe that.

7
    G uilt was eating Alison alive. Talking about what her father had done made her realize what a monster she’d become. She didn’t dwell on the sins of her parents—her father’s pride and bloodlust, her mother’s weakness—but telling Fenton about them and watching his reactions made her question her past actions.
    True, she’d never taken a laser rifle to someone, but she’d been hell-bent on destroying Gen, Rhys, and anyone who stood in her way. Just like her father. Her own personal sin was greed, and it had turned deadly during her tenure at Illustra.
    She wondered what sort of justice would be fitting according to Fenton. Alison wished she could leave him, find a new patron. Credits equaled freedom, and being dependent on someone else, especially such an upstanding man, made her twitch.
    She wanted to sully him, to knock him off of his holier-than-thou pedestal and drag him down into the muck