Silas

by V. J. Chambers

  She got off the couch, shaking her head. “But we’re not cavemen anymore.”

  “I’m only saying that the reason that having a relationship is so hard might be because it’s not natural.”

  “I don’t know what’s natural or biological, Silas. All I know is that I don’t want other men. I only want Griffin. And even when I was sleeping around, I didn’t find it satisfying. Deep down, I always wanted to settle down with one guy.”

  “That’s social programming, though,” I said.

  “No,” she said. “It’s…” She bit her lip. “Griffin and I have a thing. When I’m around him, I feel how connected we are. It’s powerful. Haven’t you ever felt connected to someone? Like you can’t stop thinking about them? Like you’re just happier when they’re around?”

  “No,” I said. “Not really.” Out of nowhere, I wondered what Christa was doing right now.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “You’re a lost cause, and you’re not going to make an honest woman out of Christa by dating her. But you need to apologize to Griffin.”

  “I did.”

  “Do it again,” she said. “Beg him to forgive you. I will not have an unbalanced wedding.” She swept out of the room, her long, blonde hair flying.

  * * *

  I strode through the lobby of the hotel, my phone at my ear. “I see him, Sloane. He’s getting into the elevator, and he’s heading upstairs.”

  “You going after him?” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m taking the next elevator.”

  “The curtains to his room are still closed. I’m in position, but I can’t see anything. You make sure you get those open if you want backup.”

  We were using the same kind of setup that we used to use when we worked for Operation Wraith. Sloane hung back with her sniper rifles. She was on the periphery, watching everything. She was my insurance policy in case things went south. I went in up close and personal and did the hand-to-hand stuff.

  I still wanted this to be a relatively clean operation, but Sloane had been right. I had to look in Rolf’s eyes when I killed him. It wasn’t going to work any other way.

  “Got it, sis,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

  She snorted in my ear. “You kidding? Of course I’m going to worry.”

  An elevator door opened. I got inside, and the doors closed after me. “I’m in the elevator. Going up.”

  Sloane was quiet and so was I. We were trained to keep the chatter low when we were on a mission, but back then, we’d had all kinds of state-of-the-art gadgets to keep us in communication. Nowadays, we had to rely on cell phones.

  The elevator dinged up the floors, heading for Rolf’s. I’d discovered what floor he was on from Megan, the helpful work-study.

  It halted two floors below his, and the doors swung open.

  A man in a suit peered inside. “Going down?”

  I shook my head. “Up.”

  He waved me on my way. I shut the doors.

  “What was that?” asked Sloane.

  “Some guy,” I said.

  “You think he got a good look at you?”

  “Sloane, there are tons of people in this hotel. No one’s going to remember me.”

  “We better hope not,” she said. “Because you’re in there preparing to commit murder, and you can go to jail for that.”

  The elevator reached its destination. I strode out into the hallway. “Don’t say that word too loud. Someone will hear you and get suspicious.”

  She sighed. “Someone will hear me over the phone? I don’t think so.”

  The walls were covered in cream wallpaper, decorated with little flowers. The carpet was green. I made my way down the hallway.

  “Light just went on in his room, Silas,” she said.

  “So, he’s only a couple of seconds ahead of me,” I said. “Good.”

  I stopped in front of Rolf’s doorway. I took a deep breath. “I’m in position. I’m hanging up,” I told Sloane in a low voice.

  “Affirmative,” she said.

  It was funny how we switched into our Op Wraith manner of speaking so easily.

  I pocketed my phone and banged on the door. “Room service,” I called.

  Shuffling inside the room. “I didn’t order room service.”

  “Room 214?” I said.

  Then the door was yanked open. “Silas Drake. What a surprise.”

  He must have seen me through the peephole. That was fine with me. I cocked my head to take him in. He looked the same as he ever had.

  Blond hair caught in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, a white-toothed smile, thick neck muscles. He was like a Ken doll. One that liked to shoot people with pump-action shotguns.

  I pushed the door into him and forced my way into the room.

  I darted across the room and opened the curtains for Sloane.

  “What did you do that for?” he asked.

  “It’s a nice view,” I said.

  He hit the floor. “You got a shooter on me?”

  I pulled a pistol out from where I’d kept it at the small of my back. “I got a gun on you, Rolf.”

  “I got one on you too, Drake.”

  And there was a sharp, ripping pain in my gut.

  I stumbled backwards to see that Rolf was pointing his own gun at me. It was fitted with one of Dewhurst-McFarland’s state-of-the-art silencers, which actually muffle the sound. I’d barely heard the shots.

  I returned fire.

  He rolled under the bed.

  Dammit. Sloane couldn’t hit him under there.

  I hit the floor too, lifting up the bed skirt.

  I got a face full of bullets.

  One shattered my cheekbone. The other smashed into my nose.

  I felt the world closing in on me. I was going dark. That was what we called it when our bodies sustained so much damage that we seemed to die for a few minutes. I’d lose consciousness, and I wouldn’t come to until I was healed.

  I staggered through the room. I couldn’t go dark here.

  It would raise too many questions when I revived.

  I clutched at furniture to keep myself upright. “You are going to pay,” I managed as I knocked the alarm clock and the remote control to the floor. “For what you did to Sylvia.”

  And then I dove face first out of the hotel window, the glass shattering around me as I fell.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I awoke in the back seat of Sloane’s car. I could feel the car careening around a curve. I struggled to sit up.

  “Oh,” she said. “You’re awake. Nice going, you dickwad. Way to keep a low profile.”

  I shook myself. There was glass in my hair. “Sorry.

  “You have any idea how tough it was to get down there and pull your body out of the way before the police showed up?”

  “I was going dark. He had a gun, and he shot me, and I had to think fast. It was the best plan I could come up with in forty seconds.”

  “Well, it was a shitty plan,” she said. “You created a huge commotion. You dove through a fucking window, you dumbass.”

  “I know what I did.”

  “And now we have to drive around to make sure we lose any tails,” she said. “Which means I’m not going to get my beauty sleep.”

  “I’ll drive,” I said, crawling up into the front seat with her. “Pull over and switch with me.”

  She sighed. “I’m fine for now.”

  I studied my hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I really fucked up.”

  “He hit the ground too fast,” she said. “I barely sighted him through the window before he realized what you were up to.”

  “We should have done an early mission into the room to get the curtains open,” I said.

  “That would have involved getting a key or breaking into the room,” she said. “More time in the hotel. More time for witnesses to see us. No, we couldn’t have done that.”

  I sagged into the seat. “Well, maybe he’ll let his guard down. He doesn’t know about the seru
m, so he probably thinks I’m dead.”

  “Nice try,” she said. “You opened those curtains and let him know you weren’t working alone. He’s going to be looking for the shooter. For me.”

  I dragged a hand over my face. “Man, I can’t believe it went so wrong.”

  “You didn’t think he’d have a gun?”

  “No,” I said. “Especially not one with a silencer. He shoots things, but he does it out in nature after tracking them down. I didn’t even know he owned a handgun.”

  “Well, now we know that he’s armed and ready. Next time, we’ll be better prepared.”

  I looked at her. “Next time? You’re not giving up?”

  “Not until he’s dead, Silas. We got to finish what we started.”

  I reached across the car and grabbed her hand. “Hey, thanks. I know that you’re not crazy about doing stuff like this. It means a lot me that you’re helping out.”

  She squeezed my hand. “You and me together. That’s what it’s about.”

  “Together,” I said. It was what we always said to each other. Sloane and I had been through a lot together. We hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods. It had been my idea, the first time we’d killed together, and sometimes I felt bad about that. I’d pulled her into this.

  But there hadn’t been time back then to worry about the future. They were going to do… things to her. And I wasn’t going to let that happen to my sister.

  But I knew it bothered Sloane way more than it bothered me. I’d been able to let it roll off my back. And when our actions had brought us to the attention of Jolene French, who had recruited us to her elite group of assassins in Op Wraith, I’d taken to it like a duck to water. It had been tougher for Sloane.

  I made it my business not to push her into it too deep. That was why she worked from a distance. It helped that she had fantastic aim, of course, but I also knew it was easier for her if she didn’t have to wash the spattered blood off her face.

  I could do that. I could handle it. Maybe it made it easier for me if I thought I was doing it for her. I don’t know.

  “I always got your back,” she said. “Even when you don’t deserve it.”

  “Which is most of the time, right?” I leaned my head against the window. I was off my game. First I’d blacked out and been less than impressive in bed with Christa. Then I’d failed to kill Rolf.

  “Yeah,” she agreed.

  “Fuck you,” I said. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.”

  She laughed. “Hey Silas, not until after the wedding, okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll help you get Rolf, but not until after the wedding is over. I can’t concentrate on both things at once.”

  She was right. I was nuts trying to do this right now. After the wedding was over and Christa left, I’d be able to focus better. “That actually makes a lot of sense. We’ll put Operation Kill Rolf on hold for a bit.”

  * * *

  Christa was standing outside on our porch when Sloane and I got back. It was late, probably two in the morning, but she looked really good. Her jeans hugged the curves of her thighs and calves. I wanted to run my hands over the swells of them. I wanted to peel her pants off of her, one inch at a time.

  “Hey,” I said, rushing over to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I think my comb might have fallen out of my purse when I was here the other night,” she said.

  Sloane came up the porch steps behind us. “You didn’t think you could wait until morning for that?”

  Christa looked away, shrugging. “I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention to how late it was. I’m kind of a night owl.”

  I grinned. “Come in. We’ll look for it.”

  Sloane pushed her way in between me and Christa, glaring at me. “I’ll help you look for it. Silas has had a long night, and he’s probably tired.”

  I opened the door. “Well, it probably fell out in my room, so it kind of makes sense for me to help her look for it.”

  The three of us stepped inside.

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Sloane. “You’re a guy, and you’ll be hopeless when it comes to finding something girly like a comb. And besides, I seriously doubt Griffin would like it if you were helping his sister look for a comb.” She fixed me with a steely glare.

  She was probably right. I didn’t actually want to help Christa look for a comb. Instead, I wanted to convince her that my idea about peeling off her pants was a really great one. And I shouldn’t mess stuff up with Griffin any worse than I already had. She was just a chick. Griffin was my friend.

  Yeah.

  But she was a really hot chick.

  “I got this, Sloane.” I gestured up the steps at Christa. “You want to look in my room?”

  Christa was scrutinizing my face. “You really do heal fast, don’t you?”

  Oh. Right. The last time she’d seen me, Griffin had mangled my face. “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Really?”

  “Actually, maybe you can find the comb, if you do it alone,” said Sloane. “How about you go upstairs and look for Christa’s comb in your room?”

  “Well, I don’t know what it looks like. Shouldn’t Christa come along?”

  “Christa, what color is it?” said Sloane.

  “Purple,” she said.

  Sloane smiled at me. “You shouldn’t have too much trouble finding something purple in your room, right?”

  “Well, I don’t know, maybe,” I said.

  “Christa and I can have some girl talk while you’re gone.”

  Goddamn my sister. I knew she was only trying to help me do the right thing here, but she was being a massive cock block. After all, this comb excuse was pretty flimsy on Christa’s part. Obviously, she’d made it up so that she could come by and see me.

  She missed me.

  She’d been thinking about fucking me again, just like I’d been thinking about her.

  And because of Sloane, I wasn’t going to get any.

  She shooed me up the stairs. “Go.”

  Sighing, I went.

  This was stupid. There was no purple comb in my room.

  Except that there was. It was lying on the ground in about the same place as Christa’s purse had been.

  I picked it up and headed back for the stairs.

  But when I heard my name floating up them, I stopped and listened.

  “…not a bad guy,” Sloane was saying. “He’s just not boyfriend material.”

  “Who said I wanted a boyfriend?” said Christa. “I only wanted my comb.”

  “Please,” said Sloane. “Like there’s a comb. You want back in my brother’s pants.”

  “There’s a comb,” said Christa. “Maybe I came by to make sure he was okay after my brother beat the shit out of him—”

  “No, Griffin didn’t beat Silas up,” said Sloane. “Silas let Griffin hit him, because he knew he was in the wrong. He never should have touched you. Trust me, if Griffin and Silas ever got into it for real, it would be ugly. My brother does not get the shit beat out of him.”

  I grinned. Good old Sloane. I loved her. She was the best sister on earth.

  “Okay,” said Christa. “Whatever. I wanted to make sure he was okay. He’s fine. As soon as I get my comb, I’ll leave.”

  “He doesn’t do commitments,” said Sloane. “Or second dates.”

  Christa snorted. “Whatever. He’s been begging me to go out with him again ever since he woke up with me.”

  “He has? Silas? For real?”

  I cleared my throat and started down the steps, holding out the comb. “Your comb, Christa.”

  She snatched it from me. “Thanks.”

  Sloane turned to look at me, a confused expression on her face.

  “I gotta go. It’s late,” said Christa.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m exhausted.”


  “Let me walk you out,” I said.

  “Whatever.” She headed for the door.

  I hurried to catch up with her.

  She swung the door open.

  I caught it and vaulted out after her.

  “Hey, uh, I probably came on way too strong at the restaurant,” I said.

  She whirled to face me. “Spare me, okay? I know your type.”

  “I’m not trying to…” I floundered. I wasn’t used to interacting with girls who were this hostile to me. Generally, I’d give up and move on, but there was something about this girl. I didn’t know what it was, but when I was around her, I didn’t want her to go away. “Look, I don’t know what this is.” I pointed back and forth between the two of us. “But—”

  “There’s no this,” she said. “We fucked when we were drunk. The end. Everyone keeps warning me off, saying that you go through girls like coffee filters, so why can’t you just let it go? You got in my pants. Why wasn’t that enough?”

  “I… I don’t remember it,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Okay. Well, too bad.”

  I caught her by the arm. “Hey, wait a second. That’s not why. I… You’re funny, you do this thing where you run your hands through your hair, and it’s really cute. And you drank me under the table, and you’re not mooning over me, and… I never met anyone like you before.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “You’re grabbing me again.”

  I let go of her. “Sorry.”

  “You’re telling me I’m special? I mean something to you, when the other girls don’t? That’s original.”

  “I didn’t…” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not saying it means anything. All I wanted to do was show you that I’m not really horrible in bed.”

  “Oh,” she said. “That’s all?”

  That was all I wanted. Wasn’t it?

  She looked away. “Well, you weren’t actually that horrible. Okay? You happy now?” She darted down the steps of the porch without a backward look.

  I stood there in the darkness, feeling confused. I wished she hadn’t gone.

  Sloane stood in the doorway. “Silas, what the hell are you doing with that girl?”

  I turned back to her. “Nothing.”