by Sarah Fine
He helped me into the van. I stared at Asa’s crooked profile as he drove down the rainy streets, just aching. He checked us in. One room. He carried our stuff up, obviously not willing to trust the bellboy with an original relic—no matter that it was thickly packaged in lead and tucked into a locked case. I sat in the lobby, shivering, while the two young women at the reception desk kept giving me anxious looks. “Could we page the hotel doctor for you, ma’am?” one of them finally asked. “We have one on call.”
I shook my head. “Nothing they could do for me.”
Their eyes went wide, and that’s when Asa stepped out of the elevator. He lifted me from the chair, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. The reception ladies gave us this awwww look.
Asa carried me all the way to our room. He got me set up for a shower, and when I was through, he helped me to the bed. He handed me one of the vials of Quentin’s magic, and I spread it over my skin, grateful for the relief—and knowing it would make things easier for Asa, too.
After taking a quick shower of his own and emerging in track pants and a T-shirt, Asa settled on the bed next to me and held his arm out, inviting me close. I wasn’t about to turn that invitation down. But . . . “Is it better with Quentin’s magic?”
“Either way, I can handle it. Get over here.”
I did, because selfish or not, I needed this. I laid my head on his chest and clung to him.
He threaded his fingers through my damp hair. “Are you scared?”
“Yes.” But . . . not of Brindle or the transaction. For some crazy reason, it felt like the least of my worries, a speed bump as I raced toward the edge of a cliff. I didn’t want to explain that to him, though. Doing that would mean I’d have to say it all out loud.
“It’s them or us now. And it’s gonna be us.”
“Really?”
“I am gonna make absolutely sure you get back to Ben and your family.”
I pressed my cheek to his chest. He didn’t control everything. I had to control some of it myself.
I clamped my eyes shut and counted the beats of Asa’s heart. He held me close as we both drifted. I don’t know how much he slept, but I remember briefly regaining consciousness to feel his arms heavy and loose around me, his breathing slow and even. Grateful it wasn’t over yet, I sank back into rest, dreading the morning.
It came anyway, though. Asa nudged me awake as sunbeams sliced through a crack in the blackout curtains. “I want you to eat some breakfast,” he said, already showered and fully dressed. “I ordered room service.”
A knock came at the door a minute later, just as I was standing up from the bed. Asa peered out the peephole, his collapsible baton nestled in his hand, which he held behind his back. Apparently satisfied, he opened the door. The server, dressed in the hotel livery complete with a cap, rolled the cart in, his head down.
And as he raised it, I gasped. “Jack.”
There was a click as Asa extended his baton, but Jack had a gun pointed at Asa’s chest before he could raise it. “Drop it, Ward,” he said sharply.
Asa cursed and obeyed. He glanced at me before glaring at our uninvited guest again. “I’m guessing you’re Jack’s grandson. The Headsman.”
Jack smiled. “How are you two? Big day, huh?” He arched an eyebrow as he took in my messy hair and the one bed in the room. “Wait, I thought you were engaged to the brother?”
“What the fuck do you want?” snapped Asa.
“Breakfast, for starters.” Jack’s grin didn’t fade. “And then we’re gonna talk about how today’s transaction is gonna go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Not that you care, but Mattie’s life is on the line for this one,” Asa said. “You want to fuck with one of my other transactions, go ahead. But—”
Jack put his hands up, finger away from the trigger. “I know she’s in bad shape.” He gave me a regretful look. “Some of that is probably my fault.”
“Then get the fuck out and come after me another time.” Asa’s fists clenched.
The conduit shook his head. “I’m here to offer a deal.”
“You have nothing I want.”
Jack’s eyes met mine. “I’m going to be your conduit today.”
“You’re a fucking Headsman. Brindle would shoot you on sight.”
“I’ve been undercover for the last seven years, man. Very few people know I’m not a freelancer. Sunday was the first time I’d surfaced in four years.”
“When you brought Arkady in,” I said. “But he knew after you captured him, obviously. He could have told someone after he escaped.”
“Arkady wasn’t loose for long, and now he’s back in our custody.” Jack’s brows lowered. “And his social life’s not very active right now, seeing as he’s in a coma.”
“Shit,” said Asa. “He survived.”
“Can I take that as an admission that you’re the one who ran him over, Mr. Ward?”
“Fuck yeah.”
Jack let out a hard laugh and shook his head. “You’re exactly like I thought you’d be. No regard for human life. No remorse.”
“That’s not fair,” I said. “The only reason I didn’t run Arkady over myself is because Asa never lets me drive.”
Asa arched an eyebrow. “We’ve already talked about this. The screaming is a nonstarter.”
“I demand a rematch,” I grumbled.
Asa’s smirk disappeared as he turned to Jack. “Look, man. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Your grandpa was a good guy, and I had a lot of respect for him. I’m sorry about what happened, but he understood the risks and decided to save our asses anyway. And if it helps at all, his killer probably didn’t make it outta that parking lot.”
I cringed, remembering how Asa had unleashed the power of the Strikon relic on Zhong’s assassins who’d come to steal it.
“Yeah, you left quite a mess behind,” said Jack. But was that begrudging admiration in his tone?
“Not like I had much of a choice.”
“You could have called in the Headsmen.”
Asa laughed. “Like, for actual help? Right.”
“From what I understand, you nearly became one of us.”
My mouth dropped open. “Huh?”
“Ancient history,” Asa said, all his humor gone.
“The guild has a long memory.” Jack holstered his weapon behind his back and kicked Asa’s baton behind him. “But for now, let’s focus on today.”
Asa’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you’ve got a fuckload of conduit and reliquary agents with you, you came by yourself. I don’t sense any naturals nearby.”
“I’m here on my own. It’s my fault Arkady got loose. He caused the deaths of eleven of my colleagues and eighteen other innocent people, not to mention dozens of injured and maimed.” Jack slid the cap off his head and tossed it on the bed, then squared his muscular shoulders. “Some redemption is in order, and from what I understand, there are two original relics in play today. I plan to take both off the street.”
Asa gave Jack an appraising look. “And what do we get? If Brindle ends up empty-handed, he’s coming after us. Maybe even Mattie’s family. But that would be just like the Headsmen, am I right? Who has no regard for human life?”
Asa’s hand twitched toward one of his thigh pockets, but Jack had his gun drawn again with a speed and fluidity born of years of practice and experience. “I will personally make sure the blowback doesn’t land on you.”
Asa put his hands up with a look of pure exasperation on his angular face. “Brindle’s been insisting on his own conduit for the transaction, so your cute little plan is irrelevant.”
Jack’s smile was slow and assured. “Who do you think he called to do the deal? The best on the East Coast.”
“You?” I asked in a weak voice.
He winked. “I got a certain rep.”
“Oh, fuck,” said Asa. “You’re Jack Winchester, aren’t you? The one all the foreign bosses like to use stateside. And it’s all a cover
.”
“One my organization would kill to maintain,” Jack said, the threat clear. But then he grinned. “Thought you mighta heard of me.”
“So why did you come to us first?” I asked.
“Couldn’t have you blowing my cover when we meet for the first time, could I?”
Asa turned to me. “Was he good to you at the station? How did he treat you?”
I glanced at Jack and sank down on the bed, my stomach turning at the memory of that transaction. “Um . . . he could have been harder on me than he was. Daeng was trying to get him to force me. To yank it out of me.” I folded my arms over my middle. “Jack threatened to kick him out of the room.”
I looked up as I felt Asa’s stare. Somehow it was both bleak and saturated with absolute fury. After several long seconds, he turned back to Jack. “Daeng,” he said, his voice clipped and harsh.
“Didn’t make it out of the sheriff’s station,” Jack replied. “Someone set it on fire. They were still pulling bodies out when I took off.”
“I want confirmation.”
Jack gave a stiff nod.
“Mattie?” Asa’s voice gentled. “We’re not moving forward until you give the okay.”
“Do I have a choice?”
Asa came over and squatted in front of me. “I can’t always determine which options you have, but I am here to make sure you have a choice.”
He might have pulled away earlier in the week, but now he was back, solid and certain, ferocious in his protection of me. The difference was dizzying, once again driving home just how much I needed him. Want and wish and terror were a storm inside me.
“Okay. Right now Jack seems like the best choice.”
Asa stroked his thumb over my cheek and stood up. “All right, then. Let’s talk about how this is gonna go down.”
A few hours later, at three o’clock on the dot, Asa and I entered the lobby of the Grand Hyatt, no longer looking like refugees from some natural disaster. At some point earlier in the week, Asa had gone shopping for me again. To my shock, he’d gotten me makeup, and I was so relieved and happy when he pulled out the bag that I almost kissed him. Of course, then he ruined it by saying, “I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention.”
Meaning I looked bad enough that people would notice me.
I forgave him because he’d also bought me antifrizz gel that smelled frankly amazing.
And then there were the clothes. It was a strange feeling not to have a say in my wardrobe, but I’d learned in Bangkok that Asa actually had a pretty keen sense of style—though it showed only in certain situations—and for whatever reason, he liked choosing what I wore. Today’s outfit consisted of deceptively comfortable platform sandals, crisp navy-blue twill shorts—a little shorter than my usual—and a flowy peachy-pink blouse. It had a deep V-neck and a zipper that offered the possibility of making that V even deeper—and made the possibility of a bra basically impossible. When I’d walked out of the bathroom with it on and arched an eyebrow, Asa had simply said, “I need access to your chest.”
In any other circumstance, I might have been offended. Or, okay, turned on.
Today, I understood that he was talking about being able to quickly hook me up to a defibrillator if it came down to that.
Now we stood in the marble lobby of this fancy hotel. Asa looked casual in dark-gray cargo pants and a light-gray crew neck, but the slim fit and slick black boots made him look surprisingly elegant. We could have been a hot young couple here for a romantic weekend, except our only luggage was the black metal toolbox Asa carried. With my hand in his, he led me past the front desk toward the elevators, his stride unhurried. My gaze snagged on a group of young women wearing long lavender dresses hurrying toward the grand staircase, each with a small bouquet in her hand complete with trailing ribbons. Bridesmaids. It was a Saturday in late spring—there must be a wedding reception taking place in the ballroom. A strange sadness washed over me, and I looked away as they descended the stairs to the sprawling level just below the lobby.
“Do you feel anything?” I asked Asa, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand.
“Yeah. They’re up there.” He turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Knedas. Ekstazo.”
“Can you sense the bone relic?”
His brow furrowed. “Yeah. It’s faint, though. They must have it packaged incredibly well.”
“But no Reza?”
“No Reza. And no one giving off anything nearly as powerful.”
“This is good, though, right? We can just go up there, do this transaction, and leave.”
“I tried to plan for every outcome, but here’s hoping,” Asa murmured as he punched the button next to the elevator. The doors opened, and we were greeted by mirrors all around. Asa’s eyes met mine in the reflection as we stepped aboard. “You look good.”
“I don’t look like myself.” And my legs felt like they were about to buckle. My walk across the lobby had left me winded. I was so tired of this. “I haven’t looked or felt like myself in months.”
“But you still are you.” He put his arm around my shoulders and let me lean against him. “Somehow, no matter how bad you feel, you always manage it.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I simply held on to him as he pressed the button for the twenty-fourth floor. “This isn’t happening in a regular hotel room, is it?”
“Nope. Only one exit from a typical room. We’re doing this in one of the boardrooms.”
“Good.”
He winked. “And after we’re done, I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“Will there be french fries?”
“A whole fucking mountain of them, baby.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to his chest. Please let it be that easy. Please let this be easy.
“What the . . .” Asa frowned as the elevator dinged and stopped at the twentieth floor. “Oh, shit.” He shoved me behind him as the doors slid open.
I peeked around Asa to see a slim, sleekly dressed Asian man with killer cheekbones standing in front of the doors. Next to him was a statuesque Asian woman with crimson lips. It was Ho-Jun and Maew—and they worked for an entirely different boss than the one we’d sold the Strikon relic to in exchange for Ben’s freedom last year.
Ho-Jun smiled. “Hello. Mr. Montri would like his property back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ho-Jun started to step aboard, but Asa slammed his foot into the guy’s middle. But the Knedas henchman caught his boot and wrenched it forward, and Asa went tumbling out of the elevator, toolbox and all. I fell against the mirrored wall as Ho-Jun and Asa collided outside in the carpeted alcove between the elevators. Maew jumped inside, agile despite her skintight cocktail dress. Her long black hair shimmered around her shoulders as she pressed her hand—tipped with long blood-red fingernails—against my shoulder, pinning me to the wall while she swiped some sort of keycard through the elevator’s control panel.
“Going down,” she said in her crisp British accent.
“Mattie!” yelled Asa.
I struggled against Maew as Asa punched Ho-Jun and lunged for the elevator. But Ho-Jun tackled him just as the doors began to close, and he fell to the floor with Ho-Jun on his back.
“I’m sorry,” Asa gasped. He wrenched his hand up from one of his pockets and hurled a small object into the elevator just before the doors shut completely.
Maew and I both blinked down at what looked like a tan wad of chewed gum.
Is that . . . Silly Putty?
It was my last thought before the thing exploded and my ears filled with the shrieking of metal against metal. The floor fell out from under me. Maew screamed. I was too breathless and shocked to make a sound. Mirrors shattered all around me as the elevator rumbled and plunged. I curled into a ball and covered my head with my arms.
When you know death is only seconds away, your thoughts can get pretty weird.
Mine were, in chronological order:
Didn’t he just prom
ise me french fries?
I’m sorry, Mom and Dad.
At least now I won’t have to choose.
And: Shouldn’t we have hit bottom by now?
No sooner had I thought it than I felt a sharp pain in my wrist and opened my eyes as Asa dragged me out of the elevator, back into the carpeted alcove. He’d clamped one of the Headsmen’s silver cuff bracelets around my wrist, and it was emitting needle-prick shocks strong enough to clear the fog of terror from my mind. The elevator door was still open, and Maew was on her knees, screaming, her eyes rolling in terror. Asa calmly leaned in, pressed a button for a lower floor, and let the doors close. We listened to Maew’s shrieks fade. “That oughta keep folks busy down in the lobby for a while.”
Asa took the cuff off my wrist and tucked it into his toolbox, then picked it up and steered me toward the stairwell, past Ho-Jun, who was lying on his back, laughing as he pointed up at the ceiling, oblivious to our presence. Obviously yet another victim of the contents of Asa’s pockets.
“You okay?” Asa asked. “Hated to do that while you were in there.”
“It’s all right,” I said breathlessly, feeling strangely elated now that I’d survived that kind of disaster, even if it had been completely fake. “That was some trick.”
“Showed Betsy some video of the elevators in this place on YouTube. That woman has an amazing and terrifying imagination. Worked up a sweet little glamour for me, and Vernon helped me get it into the putty. Just in case.”
“Do you think of everything?”
“I hope to God I did. But I’m thinking we need to steer clear of the elevators for now.” He held the door of the stairwell open as I followed him in. He gazed up the stairs, then knelt at the base of them. “All aboard, Mattie. Four floors to go.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and climbed onto his back, and he looped his free arm beneath one of my legs, helping me secure them around his waist. My chin pressed to his sweaty temple as he began to climb. “Thank you, Asa,” I said quietly.
“That’s my job.”
“You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” I pressed my lips together as the words escaped me, as their truth echoed in the stairwell around us.