Williamson - Steel Coyote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2019 by Beth Williamson. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 105, PMB 159

Fort Collins, CO 80525

rights@entangledpublishing.com

Amara is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Robin Haseltine

Cover design by Bree Archer

Cover photography by Neostock

Pobytov and Rastan/GettyImages

freestyle images/Shutterstock

ISBN 978-1-64063-840-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition July 2019

Dear Reader,

Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance youve come to expect, and we couldnt do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

xoxo

Liz Pelletier, Publisher

To my grandmother, Betty, who spent her life writing and always encouraged me to do the same. Thanks for everything, Grandma. Miss you every day.

Chapter One

The quadrant was, for all intents and purposes, a galactic tug of war. Every planet, every moon, every outpost, every waystation, every speck of dust upon which a sentient being could live was claimed by either the Corporation or the Great Family.

Neither was any more desirable than the other.

The Corporation ruled through military force. The iron fist it wielded was fed by the wealthy and elite, those who had much and shared with no one. They stood on the backs of the people who paid taxes and tariffs to support the very military that kept them subdued and subjugated. Yet the same force that kept them in check also protected them. With the Corporation came order and regimen. Some thrived. Others rebelled and set off on their own to lawless moons and waystations of questionable reputation, living beneath the radar of the Corporations mighty military. They did not, however, escape notice from the Great Family.

No one was sure how the Family came into power. Rumors swirled, but the Rasmussens were a tight-lipped group. They rewarded loyalty with rich trade routes and bountiful opportunities. The Great Family ruled with a velvet fist, strong but softer than the rigid military of the Corporation.

Simple people who desired a simple existence flocked to the lure of seeming self-rule under the auspices of the Great Family. Remington Hawthorne was far from simple. She had to walk the tightrope in a quadrant where a battle raged every day. Gunnar, her late father, had warned her to steer completely clear of the Great Family, because only their rules existed in their domain.

There was something to be said for taking control of ones own fate, unless of course it was an illusion. When you floated between the two titans of the galaxy, one lived on the razors edge of one power or the other. It was a dangerous place to be.

Remys boots pounded down the metal steps from the bridge and into the main hull of the ship. She had thirty minutes to get her ass to the Metalheads Bar on Station Twenty. No time to think over what she was about to doshe had to move, move, move like her life depended on it. A black sphere hovered above the thoroughfare but she tried not to glance at it, knowing it was the Corporations way of tracking everyone everywhere.

Station Twenty was a lonely outpost on a small planet that had been terraformed, and a haven for all the ships that frequented the trade routes from one side to the other. The Steel Coyote could have called Twenty home for all the times it had been docked there. This time, theyd barely made it into port using the remaining fuel in the tanks. They needed this job and the money it brought in, or they wouldnt be able to leave the outpost.

Remy didnt know Cooper, but shed agreed to meet him on the space station on the outer rim of the quadrant. Hed insisted on a public place with multiple exits. It meant he wanted to use her to smuggle something, but she didnt care. She didnt have that luxury. The Steel Coyote needed cargo, and Remy was desperate enough to not ask questions.

Shed done pretty well for herself at first, and then the last three months all their work had dried up. The usual jobs disappeared like wisps of smoke. Someone was sabotaging her, and she didnt know who or why.

Her heart beat a steady tattoo as she raced down the loading platform and onto the dock. Gunnar had taught her to smash those softer emotions beneath the surface. No matter what the situation, Remy kept her armor in placeeven if she was terrified of failing. This job was too important. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned right toward Metalheads.

Nighttime was louder than a parade on Twenty. Hookers, hangers, and tweakers were everywhere, looking for whatever they could get. Remy ran past them all. These were the have nots. People who lived hand to mouth. The sad fact was the Corporation only helped those who fit into their mold of good citizens and swept out the refuse to the outer planets. The Great Family took ahold of that refuse and controlled it using any means necessary.

It would take thirty minutes at a normal pace, and she wanted to be there at least five minutes early and make sure she got a drink down before the meeting. Hopefully there was some of that good bourbon, because she sure as hell needed a double. With only three of them left on the Steel Coyote , she didnt want to call herself desperate, but she was. Since Gunnar died, things had gone from bad to worse, and now she was hanging on by her fingernails.

Her father always used to say the universe was made of haves and have nots. The haves were the people who lived within the Corporations regime in pretty houses, with servants and anything credits could buy. Work was limited to choosing what to serve for their dinner party or what shoes to wear to the cotillion on a neighboring planet.

The have nots lived within the Great Familys regime, where people would fight, steal, or kill to survive. They didnt have the luxury ships, interstellar travel, or even electricity the haves took for granted. The have nots grew their own food, hunted for meat, rode horses, and used wagons. They knew the value of bartering and never left their home world.

Then there were those who drifted between the two. People like Gunnar and his crew of the Steel Coyote . A cargo ship that moved within the quadrant, delivering and picking up goods from the haves and have nots.

Remy had learned how to maintain the delicate balance of existing between the two halves of the quadrant. Shed watched and discovered what it meant to fly through it all. Shed thought she knew everything she needed to.

When Gunnar died, and Remy took over the ship, shed assumed the crew would accept her as captain. Theyd do what she wanted them to; it would be business as usual.