Stolen Lies (Fates of the Bound Book 2)

by Wren Weston

  Her expression eased, but not enough.

  “It’s not your sibling they took,” Tristan said. “When it is, I promise that I’ll let you come along.”

  “I don’t have a sibling.”

  “Thank the oracles for that. I couldn’t handle any more of you.” Tristan dug out his palm and waved her off. “Maria, go with Toxic. Don’t take too long.”

  Maria ran after the hacker. The break room door slammed against its frame, and their boots thumped upstairs.

  “So stealthy,” Tristan said as they returned to the shop. Only Fry and Dixon remained, both standing in the center of the room while Shirley’s crew popped hoods and jacked up cars around them with clicks and creaks and a whoosh.

  “Dixon, Fry. I’m putting the girl with you.”

  “Who? The mouse?” Fry balked, both men striding over to Tristan’s side.

  “Watch over her. Keep her safe, will you?”

  The big man laughed, the boom of it echoing off the concrete and metal in the shop. “The shy little thing’s grown some moxie? I didn’t think she’d have it in her.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “Is she who I think she is?”

  “Probably. Keep her secret. Keep her safe.”

  “As if she were my own,” Fry promised, clapping Tristan on the shoulder.

  Lila fussed with Dixon’s purple scarf and squeezed his hand, offering him a smile. She wished she could do more, for he’d paled at the knowledge that they’d soon face German mercs, and more specifically, their bullets. She didn’t know if he’d gotten a chance to speak with Tristan the night before about all the things he’d been struggling with, and she didn’t know if he’d gotten a chance to remedy any of his regrets.

  Dixon grinned with a bit of bluster he clearly didn’t feel, and encircled her waist in a fearsome hug.

  “We’ll have wine tonight,” she whispered in his ear. “All of us.”

  Maria opened the shop door in a rush, breathing hard. She frantically searched for them, her head turning this way and that, like she’d been scared that she’d been lied to and wouldn’t be allowed to go. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and fidgeted in the boots she’d been given to wear. They seemed too large for her feet as she ran toward the group, and the coat swallowed her small frame.

  Shirley threw her wrench into her toolbox with a sharp ping and marched toward the group. “I don’t like this. She’s too young for this nonsense.”

  “I wasn’t much older than her once,” Tristan replied. “Or don’t you remember?”

  “That was different.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, it was. You’d already been a punk for years.”

  “Oh gods, you knew him?” Lila interrupted. “You knew him and Dixon from before—”

  Shirley frowned at Lila, silencing her question, then clasped Maria’s wrist. The old woman roughly dragged her to a corner of the shop. She unbelted the sheath at her hip and put it around the girl, then motioned for her to practice drawing the knife. Its curve seemed overdramatic for her small hands, the blade too sharp, the handle overlong.

  “Keep hold of that while you’re out,” Shirley said, clasping Maria’s chin with what fingers she had left. “You do whatever Fry says, you hear me? Someone might recognize your face, even with the new hair. If he tells you to hide, you hide. If he tells you to run, you run. You leave him behind, you hear me? Even if there’s an entire militia patrol on your ass. The big fella can take care of himself.” Shirley grabbed one of the spare palms on her workbench and typed in her number then shoved it in Maria’s coat pocket. “You call me if you get separated or lost. I’ll come and find you. Wherever you are. I’ll find you.”

  Maria nodded, her eyes a little red. Perhaps no one but her father had ever fretted over her before.

  Shirley patted her cheek, then shuffled back to her workbench.

  Fry removed his scarf and wound it around Maria’s neck to hide her scar. “We should probably go.”

  He led Maria and Dixon to one of the newly painted Cruz trucks, and they pulled into traffic a few minutes later. Lila and Tristan left in another, heading in the opposite direction.

  Lila slipped off her hood and kept her palm in her lap, raptly watching the screen as Tristan drove toward their segment of the city, the same part of New Bristol where Natalie had been murdered.

  “My people checked out your list last night,” Tristan said. The pair drove past a street of workborn dwellings, well loved and well maintained, a new paint of coat atop cracked walls and crooked shutters. “It was difficult for them to walk away when they found the children.”

  “How many brothels did they find?”

  “Eight. We’re not sure how many children are inside each one. It isn’t just kids, either.” He cleared his throat, squeezing the steering wheel tightly as he turned down another street. “I called Shaw this morning. I threatened to go public against both of you if he didn’t have a beer with me at El Dorado.”

  Tristan watched her from the corner of his eye.

  “I told him I’d planned a raid with some likeminded friends, but now that Natalie was dead, I was worried that the brothels might move before I could get them all. I said I didn’t have the people to take them all at once and that I’d give him the list if I could come along.”

  “What did he say?”

  “No, but he believed my story. He was left with the distinct impression he owed me one. I even threw something.”

  “What?”

  “His beer bottle. I hadn’t finished with mine. Luckily, Dice’s sister didn’t scream at me to clean it up until after he left.”

  “You have the manpower to take the brothels, don’t you?”

  “Yes. A few weeks ago, I might not have thought twice about it, but I can’t save those kids and keep my people a secret. Besides, I don’t have the resources to help them afterwards. They’ll need medical attention and psychologists and fifty other things I wouldn’t even know about. Bullstow can help them far better than I can.”

  “You’re using your people now to save fewer children.”

  “This is different. This is war. I won’t stand by while Germans invade our city and kidnap our children. Besides, what will Bullstow do to fix this situation? Sure, they’ll send the girls back to the oracles, but what about Oskar? He’s a slave. No one else gives a damn about him or his future. He’s going to die, one way or another, and Maria will be lost. She’s not strong enough to lose her father and her brother. It’ll only be a matter of time.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? You believe this is an act of war.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Lila bit her tongue, unsure.

  Tristan turned down another street. “By the way, Shaw might have the impression that I haven’t seen nor talked to you since our last job together.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I might have said quite a number of disparaging remarks about your character, claiming that you were too busy blocking the little people from your palm to step outside your crimson tower and help a bunch of kids.”

  “I didn’t block you.”

  “It feels like it. It wasn’t that hard to channel my frustration. He bought it. You should have seen his face. He told me to leave you out of my business from now on, that you were an important woman with important things to do. He also said you’d have me in a holding cell if I tried to contact you again.”

  “So, good meeting?”

  “Good meeting. He and his men will take precautions. If there’s one thing Bullstow handles carefully, it’s children. My people will keep watch over the brothels and who goes inside until Shaw acts. It’s killing some of my people not to tear those monsters apart, but they know the score. Besides, those predators might lead us to more locations later.”

 
They reached another stop sign, and he squirmed a little in his seat before driving on. “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday, by the way. It was uncalled for. You have your entanglements, and I have mine.”

  Lila nodded, some of her anger draining away.

  “But using that as an excuse just because you’re scared about what’s going between us? It isn’t fair, and it pisses me off.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “You’re scared.”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “Congratulations. We both have. Stop throwing out excuses. It’s—”

  “I’m being blackmailed,” Lila blurted out, wincing as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It was as if someone else had said the words, as if someone else had taken over her body and her tongue, using her as a puppet.

  Tristan slammed on the brakes. The truck bounced in place, its frame squeaking.

  Lila grasped her shoulder as the seatbelt yanked it back, crying out.

  “Sorry.” Tristan’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. A red sedan honked behind them in one long, angry curse.

  Tristan shifted into park. “Are you okay? Your shoulder, I mean?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said as she massaged her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to say anything. I’m dealing with it.”

  “Lila—”

  “I knew Reaper had a partner. All that data wiped the day he died? It didn’t add up.”

  “What do they want?”

  “Short term? Money. Long term? Who knows? I haven’t had time to do much about it yet. I’ve been a little busy, what with you, the oracles, Oskar, and my parents forcing me into a vacation I don’t want. I have to pay the asshole tonight or else something bad will happen. The message didn’t say what.”

  The car behind them honked again. The driver flipped Tristan off as he drove around their truck and sped past.

  “We should go,” Lila said. “We don’t have time for this right now.”

  Tristan put the truck back into gear and started off once more down the street. “We’ll talk while we look. What do you know?”

  “Not much. I hired Max to—”

  “Max? Max Earlwell? Gods, I suppose it makes sense that you know him. I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified.”

  “I’ll pretend you said impressed. He’s a friend, and he’s given me a lead. I’ll pay now, but as soon as we’ve found the kids, I’m finding that asshole. Apparently I have the time now. I have two weeks to fill.”

  The corner of Tristan’s mouth twisted. “What a coincidence. I have two weeks’ vacation coming too.”

  “Focus, Tristan.”

  They drove for a few blocks in silence, passing row upon row of the same sort of suburban houses with the same sort of dogs barking in the same sort of yards.

  Tristan cleared his throat. “You do realize that when I tried to talk about us, you brought up something else? Again?”

  Lila pinched the bridge of her nose. “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Something. Anything. But you can’t tell me to fuck off one day and come back the next. Just meet me halfway, Lila. Oracle’s light, it’s not even halfway. It’s just one step.”

  Lila fumbled with her words, not sure what she could or should tell him. She had feelings for him, that much was obvious, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the feelings, much less admit to them.

  And encouraging him was just cruel.

  They always seemed to end up in the same place, didn’t they? Pissed off at one another?

  The game flickered, drawing her eye to her palm.

  “I backed up your messages,” she mumbled finally, giving in because it was easier than dealing with the mush in her mind.

  “My messages? Doesn’t your kind back up every message you receive and seal it in some data vault on your family’s compound? You have to access it with a key and DNA scan and…” His joking grin faded as he saw her face tense. “You don’t back them all up, do you? Have you ever done that before with any of your other lovers?”

  “No.”

  “But you backed up my messages?”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose that’s something,” he said with a little nod.

  Lila drummed her fingers on the windowsill and turned her head away, glad he’d been mollified, at least for the afternoon.

  Tristan reached out and clasped her hand, their intertwined fingers resting in the middle of the front seat.

  “You’re driving,” she said.

  “I know.”

  Chapter 28

  The trail of aliens had not moved, and the score had not budged. One hour had turned into two, and Lila shifted in her seat, worried and losing hope as time dragged on. Perhaps the tracers were too old to send out a signal.

  Tristan’s palm vibrated in the silence like a lost swarm of bees humming in the car’s heater, startling them both. He pulled to the side of the road and put the call on speaker.

  “Our good karma is alive and well,” Dice said, his voice pouring into the car. “We’ve found them.”

  “Where?”

  Dice related the address, promising to contact Toxic and have the rest of the group meet two kilometers from the location. Tristan would give them all further instructions after he got a look at the scene.

  “How many mercs do you think there are?” Tristan asked as they sped across the city.

  “At least a dozen,” Lila said. “You might have sixty, but you’ll lose some if you attack directly. The mercs will be prepared, they’ll be well armed and well trained, and they’ll fight to the death.”

  “What on earth makes you think I’m going to attack directly? I’ve learned a thing or two from your sneakiness over the last couple of years. Besides, more than a few of my people spent time in the army. I listen when they speak.”

  “Good,” Lila grunted as her palm picked up the tracer’s scent. “My expertise only extends to protecting compounds from stunts like this.”

  Tristan pulled the truck behind a warehouse, just one in several rows of such buildings, all left in the last two decades when the Perraults tried and failed at expanding their empire from Beaulac into New Bristol. The area had been grand once, a dozen large rectangles climbing several stories and painted in Perrault blue. But the paint had peeled, the tin siding had warped, and the iron beams holding up the structures had rusted. Weeds peeked out from cracks in the sidewalk and vines obscured the broken windows.

  The city had never followed through on its promise to develop the land, and Chairwoman Randolph had not yet convinced them to sell it to her at a fair enough price.

  Tristan parked, and he and Lila slid behind the buildings. Usually drug addicts took over such places, but Lila saw no evidence of squatters on the abandoned block.

  “It’s too quiet,” Tristan whispered, staring at every window they passed, his fingers on his gun.

  Lila did the same.

  Finally they reached a warehouse in the middle of the block and slipped through the back door. The inside had been gutted and cleared. Only dust, leaves, small animals, and echoes made it their home.

  They heard muffled voices and shifting boots. Lila slipped on her hood, and the pair followed the noise until they spied Dixon and Fry, peering from a window tinted with dust and grime.

  A smaller form in a large coat stood between them, ponytail smooth and shoulders stiff.

  “You were supposed to take her back to the shop,” Tristan said, frowning at his brother and Fry.

  The large man dropped his binoculars, letting them swing at his chest. “She threatened to give us a poke if we tried to take her back. I thought I’d let you make the final call. It seems the little mouse has teeth now. Remind me to give Shirley a piece of my mind, will you?”

  Maria did
not turn around nor surrender her spot at the window. She’d fixed her gaze on the warehouse across the street, her binoculars pressed up against her eyes so hard she likely had a bruise. “I don’t see him.”

  “We had a deal, Maria,” Tristan said patiently. “You were—”

  “Fuck you, and fuck the deal,” Maria said absently, still refusing to turn away, all traces of the demure little girl gone from her voice. “I’m going in there for my brother, with or without you.”

  Lila blinked.

  So did Tristan.

  Crickets chirped in the corners of the warehouse.

  “Do you see now?” Fry said. “Came out of nowhere. It didn’t help that she stole my backup tranq. She said that she didn’t need us anymore after you sent us the address. Said she’d shoot us both, steal the truck, and drive herself.”

  Lila and Tristan blinked again.

  Maria turned away from the window. “They’re all fools. Workborn and lowborn and highborn alike. But you and Hood are useful fools. You want my brother, and I want my brother. We have the same goal right now, and I figure you’re the safest of the lot that wants him, even though you nearly killed my father. From everything I’ve heard so far, you’re the only ones who don’t want to send us somewhere he doesn’t want us to go. So far,” she repeated, before resuming her watch on the window. “I still don’t see him.”

  Lila checked her palm once again. The score flickered between forty-five and fifty. “He’s got to be in there. The numbers are a bit fuzzy, but I suspect it’s because both he and Rebecca are inside. The program doesn’t know which one to focus on. Or perhaps the signals are fading.”

  “Who’s Rebecca?” Maria asked.

  “A girl the Germans took. Your people, I suppose.”

  “They aren’t my people. I don’t have a people. I have a brother and a father, and that’s it.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “My grandmother beat her half to death after she found out that she’d slept with a dirty German slave. The moment their contracts ended, they moved far, far away. My father found us on his doorstep nine months later. At least she did him the courtesy of leaving a note.”