Stowaway by Becky Black

devil’s in the details.”
    “If you weren’t a criminal, I’d suggest you’d make a good cop.”
    “Hah!” But Kit couldn’t help smiling about it. Him a cop? Unlikely.
    “So are you going to tell me who you were visiting?”
    Kit frowned at the question. Damn.
    “No, I hadn’t forgotten,” Raine said, a smug look on his face. “I’m learning about you and your distraction techniques.”
    “I did give you an advanced lesson in that elevator.”
    The smug look disappeared. “And that’s all it was?” Then he flushed and scowled. “Of course it was. Don’t try to convince me of anything else.”
    “Wasn’t going to. It worked, didn’t it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Which means it will work again in the future.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “We’ll see. I’ll pick my moment.” He winced as he moved his arm. He’d strained it earlier lifting a heavy bucket of water.
    “Something wrong?”
    “Just a bit stiff and sore. You know how it is when you do something strenuous you haven’t done in a while.”
    Raine’s face darkened then. Until now Kit had never fully appreciated the expression “a face like thunder.” He expected bolts of lightning to flash from Raine’s eyes.
    Nice.
    “I think I’ll go take a nice long steam in the sauna,” Kit said. “Few hours until I’m back on—”
    “You do that,” Raine snapped. “Tomorrow, you’d better report on time. Get out.”
    Kit left, deciding he’d be twenty minutes late tomorrow.
    * * *
    For the next three days, Katherine Warner gave Kit his check-in session. By the third, Kit was certain Raine was avoiding him. Interesting.
    “And you’ve just been down in the infirmary?” Warner said, finishing up the last of his movements. From the seat she’d let him sit in, Kit stuck his foot up in the air.
    “Follow-up appointment for the ankle.”
    “Fully recovered, then?”
    “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”
    “Good attitude. Okay, you can go.”
    “Thanks,” he said, jumping up and offering her a jokey salute, making her roll her eyes. “Don’t you be watching my ass on the security monitors.”
    “Buzz off, Kit.”
    He buzzed, hurrying down to the galley, where they’d be starting lunch prep soon. He’d kept his cool while talking to Warner, but sweat had been beading on his back while they talked. As if she might suddenly demand to search him. And then she’d find what he had in his pocket.
    “Hello, handsome,” Gracie said as he came in. “Was it Warner again today?”
    “Chief Stick-up-the-ass is clearly avoiding me. I guess my sexiness is burning out his retinas.”
    “Is Warner okay with you? She’s kind of scary.”
    “Katie? She’s a pussycat.”
    “Yeah, like a lioness is a pussycat. Okay, we need to get some supplies from the container and empty the dishwashers from breakfast.”
    “Let’s split it,” Kit said, picking up the printout of required supplies. “I’ll go grab these; you empty the washers.”
    “Great. See you back here.”
    She opened one of the washers and vanished in a cloud of steam, while Kit took the utility cart they used to fetch supplies and set off for the food-storage container.
    In the container, he used the elevator platforms to get to the lower level. He found a couple of the items on the list, then left the cart and headed for a row of large storage crates. These were all red, unlike the blue that designated supplies for the Light of Dawn . Gracie had told him one day down here that those were some supplies they were dropping off at the space station on the edge of the asteroid field—only a few days away.
    The station where Kit would have his chance.
    He popped the lid off a crate, which was half-empty. Kit had done some strategic redistribution of its contents. In one corner sat a neat stash of items. Clothes and food of the “iron rations” type. He’d been careful, bringing in an item at a time, in his pockets, or a piece of clothing worn