In answer, the door to her bathroom opened. In all his naked glory, Syn leaned heavily against the door-frame. Even weakened, he filled the room with an aura of raw, masculine power.
As he moved toward the bed, every muscle in his body rippled like a symphony for the eyes. Never in her life had she seen a man with a better body and if things were different . . .
Yeah, right. You wouldn’t do anything.
His cheeks were grizzled with the beginnings of a beard and the cuts on his cheeks and lips made a mockery of the handsomeness she knew he possessed.
Her gaze swept over him and she couldn’t suppress the chill that spread through her. He made an imposing figure and she had to agree with Kasen. Even beaten and bedraggled he was gorgeous.
From the expression on his face, she could tell how much pain he was in.
She went to offer her help, but he greeted her with a fierce snarl.
She took a step back, realizing he was lucid and angry.
“What am I doing here?” he growled.
She disregarded his question. “You need to get back in bed and rest.”
Though his eyes were still swollen, she could see the hard glare he pinned on her. “Why? So you can heal me, then turn me back over to the Rits?”
Her throat tightened, then she fell into the lie she’d created. “I’m sorry about that. It was a mistake. But as you can see, I fixed it.”
“You have my undying gratitude.” The sarcasm in his voice cut her deep.
She deserved that. After all, how would she feel if she were in his place?
At least he wasn’t rushing for her throat. That was an improvement.
“Can I get you anything?” She moved toward the kitchen. “Something to drink. Eat?”
He let out a sound she assumed was an aggravated snort before he pulled a blanket off her bed and limped toward her sofa. “Yeah, I need a drink of something so potent it’ll inebriate me in one shot and a painkiller chaser.” Draping the blanket around him, he took a seat, then rubbed his hands over the whiskers on his face.
Syn cursed as he accidentally bumped his swollen lips with his hand. Damn Merjack. He was going to kill him for this.
And with that thought, he glanced to Shahara who eyed him nervously.
Yeah, you ought to be nervous, babe.
He should kill her too. But at the moment it took all his strength just to move. He’d forgotten how much a beating hurt.
He took a deep breath. Severe pain sliced across his chest. You know better than to breathe like that, you idiot! How in the hell had he ever forgotten that pain?
Shahara watched him warily, still not sure if she was out of danger. Once again he turned that dark, probing stare to her while he raked his fingers through his thick, black hair to comb it out. Oddly, her own fingers ached with the memory of how soft his hair had been.
“Why did you free me?” he asked at last.
“You helped my sister. Thank you, by the way.”
Good, he seemed to accept her explanation. After a long minute, he looked up at her. “How’d you do it?”
Transfixed by the play of steely muscles, it took a moment for his question to register. She paused. “Do what?”
“Get me out.”
She fetched her hairbrush for his hair. As she handed it to him, his fingertips brushed hers, sending a strange tickle to her stomach.
Attributing it to the fact that she’d never before conversed with a naked man in her flat, she stepped back and cleared her throat. “I forged transfer papers for you.”
The look on his face made her insides shrivel. “What name did you use on the release?”
“Mine.”
The curse he snarled caused her cheeks flame. He immediately rose, then quickly sat back down with a groan.
She put a safer distance between them.
“How long have we been here?” he asked between clenched teeth.
“How many questions are you going to ask?”
Even from her distance, she could feel the heat from his stare. “If you used your real name on the papers, how long do you think it’ll be before the Rits come knocking on your door to question you about my whereabouts? Merjack isn’t going to just blithely let me go.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed. She hadn’t even thought about that. What an oversight. If she wasn’t careful, she’d tip her hand and be caught for sure.
Syn rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Jeez, woman, couldn’t you at least think it through?”
“Well, excuse me. I don’t normally pull people out of jail. I’m the one who puts them there.”
With a grimace, Syn pushed himself off her sofa. “We’ve got to get out of here before they find us.”
“And go where?”
“Wherever.”
Crossing the room, she was aghast at his suggestion. “I don’t want to leave my home. I have things to take care of. People to take care of.”
He grabbed her by the arm, his gaze branding her with heat. “Well, how do you propose to take care of them from a hole similar to the one you found me in?”
He looked her up and down with that evil grin she was learning to despise. “And believe me, sweetie, they’re a lot harder on a woman than they were on me. The guards don’t normally rape male prisoners. But they would sure get their jollies passing around a little thing like you.”
Her stomach dropped at his words and for a moment, she thought she might vomit.
Syn grimaced as if pain cut through him. “We have to get out of here. Now!”
Rushing toward her nightstand, she pulled out her weapons and module for her fighter. “Let’s go.”
“Just one problem.” He dropped the blanket and stood in her room completely naked. “I need something to wear.”
Once again heat suffused her cheeks. How in the universe could she have forgotten his nudity in such a short time?
Stepping around him, she rummaged through her closet and pulled out some of Caillen’s clothes that he left here for those nights when he stayed over. She handed them to Syn then stepped into her living room and pulled the sheet closed to give him privacy while she waited by the sofa.
“Damn it, Caillen,” Syn growled several minutes later. “You must wear the same size boot as your sisters.”
He gave a fierce groan and she couldn’t help laughing. Poor Caillen.
“If my injuries don’t kill me, these tight boots will.” Just as he opened her makeshift curtain, a knock on her door startled her.
She went cold. “Oh God, they’re here . . .”
Syn grabbed her blaster.
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out through the door. “Shay? You home?”
Relief coursed through her at her sister’s voice. Opening the door, she pulled Kasen in. “What is it?”
“I just heard over Caillen’s scanner that the Ritadarion government is sending agents over here to find you. And I was . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked past Shahara and saw Syn by the sofa.
“Oh,” Kasen mouthed.
“We’ve got to go.” Syn handed the blaster to Shahara. “Have they gone by my place yet?”
Kasen shrugged. “It sounded like they had, but I’m not sure.”
He growled deep in his throat. “I think I know a place where they won’t find us.”
Kasen scowled. “Where are we going?”
Syn gave her a sincere, charming smile. “You, my nosy friend, are going home to wait on Caillen while I take Shahara to a safe zone.”
Kasen let out little puffs of breaths in aggravation. “Where are you two going?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be safe.”
“Yeah, but—”
Syn lost patience with her. “Not enough time to explain. Go home, Kasen. Now.”
Shahara lifted a brow at the fierce voice he used and for the first time in her life, her sister actually obeyed.
Syn jerked her out the door of her condo and around the side of her building.
“Sorry.” He released her.
An instant later, the pain returned as he again seized her arm.
“What the—”
“Shh.” He pulled her down beside a group of hedges. “Lean against the wall,” he whispered.
Without question, she obeyed.
Just as she was about to ask him what was wrong, she saw the Ritadarion enforcers.
Her heart pounded. They’d found them. And worse, they blocked the entrance to the landing bay she shared with two of her neighbors.
Her throat dry, she wanted to curse.
We’re so caught.
CHAPTER 6
As soon as the enforcers passed their hiding place, Syn pulled her up and in the opposite direction of the bay.
Shahara was aghast. “What are you doing? We need my fighter.”
He looked back over his shoulder to where the men had vanished, then shook his head. “Not today, we don’t.”
“Then how are we going to get out of here?”
The smile he gave her sent a chill down her spine. “We’ll get out of here my way.”
“But what about Kasen? She’s still in my house.” She started back to help her sister, but the grip on her arm was steel.
“Go back and they will make you wish you were treated as well as I was. Kasen can handle herself. Trust me, I’ve seen her get out of much worse situations than this. And I promise I’d never let anyone harm her. Caillen would beat my ass if I did. She’ll be okay. We, on the other hand, are going to be dog meat if they see us.”
Okay, Syn was definitely nuts she decided as he pulled her down the street, away from the landing bay. Otherwise how could he remain so calm while the people who wanted him dead and had beaten him to within an inch of his life were just a few yards away?
How could he even move, for that matter, given the beating he’d received? Granted he was limping, but to the casual observer, he gave almost no indication of how badly they’d hurt him.
“Does anything get to you?”
“Yeah,” he said snidely. “Women who turn me over to my enemies.”
“Ha, ha.”
As nonchalant as any average passerby, he stopped at the corner and hailed a transport. The electronic car pulled up to the curb and opened its door with a pop and hiss. He took one last look at the enforcers before he entered, pulling her in behind him.
She couldn’t believe they hadn’t seen them.
Obviously he’d done this enough to know they would escape.
Shahara took a seat on the soft, purple cushion and breathed a sigh of relief once the door closed behind them and she was certain the enforcers could no longer see them.
He looked at her. “You got any money?”
“A couple of credits . . .” She cringed as she realized that in their hurry, she’d left her wallet. “In my house.”
His impatience was almost tangible. With a glare that welded her to the seat, he used his fingernails to pry out the payment panel, exposing the circuitry. He began twisting wires together.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m a thief. Remember?” he said with enough venom to bring down a thirty-ton vorna. “I’m rewiring the data receiver to make it think we’ve paid.”
“Can you do that?”
In answer to her question, the shuttle took off with a jerk. The speed with which he’d done it was faster than if they’d used an actual card. “I guess you can.”
He punched in an address, then retreated to the far corner of the car.
As she watched him, she realized how much toll their little trip was taking on his already weakened condition. “Maybe we should get you to a doctor?”
His answer was a derisive snort.
“You need someone to look at your injuries.”
“I need someone to look at my head,” he said sarcastically. “I should have tied you up and left you there for the Rits to torture. Lucky for you, I’m more humane than that.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Well, sorry don’t cut it, baby. Not in my neighborhood.”
Anger scorched her. “Don’t call me baby,” she snarled. It made her skin crawl. “Now why don’t you stop this thing and let me out. I’m sure I can take care of myself.”
His mocking laugh echoed in her ears. “You wouldn’t last ten minutes against a Ritadarion tracker or even one of your run-of-the-mill tracer friends.”
Her mouth dropped open with indignation. “Excuse me, but I’ve been to some of the toughest zones in the galaxy to claim my targets. And I have never once gone after a target and failed. Ever.”
“Yeah, but you’ve never been chased before. It’s a lot harder to be the prey than it is to be the predator. Hiding from the authorities takes an entire set of skills you lack. One mistake and you’re dead or captured.”
He nodded toward the street. “Any idea how many monitors just tracked us from your condo to this transport? You think they’re not going to check them in a few minutes and figure out where we went? The only thing that saves us is the address I entered just now won’t show up on their end if they check—a fake one will. Because, yeah, I am that good. And we’re lucky they don’t have sats trained on this area or we would be seriously screwed right now. But you don’t know about tracking satellites or deja vu loops and ghost codes because you don’t ever have to use them. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit over here with my throbbing feet and bleed in silence until we get to our destination.”
Damn him, he was right. She’d always acted in the open—like using her real name on his transfer orders. She’d never been one for subterfuge. Sneaking maybe, but never any long-term incognito operations. She didn’t know the first thing about hiding, or places to go for shelter.
What was she going to do?
How was she ever going to get through this mission intact? If the imbecile enforcers didn’t kill her by mistake, Syn more than likely would. Especially if he ever found out the truth and whose side she was really on.
Oh God, I’m a wanted criminal . . .
She wouldn’t be able to go home until after all this was over and she had that chip in the right hands. She couldn’t even be around her family without endangering them.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t known it going in, but the reality of it was a whole other matter.
If she was caught, she would go to jail.
With the criminals I put there.
For a full minute, she couldn’t breathe as that sank in. Damn her stupid sense of justice. She should never have allowed Traysen to talk her into doing this. There was no amount of money worth her freedom or her life.
What would happen to her family without her?
How was she going to survive?
She looked over at her churlish companion. Syn knew. He’d been running since he was a kid.
But would he continue to help her?
Not if he suspects you in any way . . .
Maybe he wasn’t quite the beast his bounty sheet claimed. Maybe he liked Caillen enough to keep her safe in the name of their friendship. Grasping that small hope, she turned to face him. “Since we’re in this mess together, care to tell me why you’re so important to the Rits?”
He opened his eyes and cocked a questioning brow.
When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “Come on, Syn. I’m not green. I know governments don’t expend this kind of energy to go after a run-of-the-mill filch or even a murderer. Nor do they routinely beat their prisoners to a pulp. You were seriously interrogated by someone who knew exactly how to wring the most pain out of you while keeping you alive and able to speak. There’s a lot more to this than what’s on the surface and they want you for something significant. What is it?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, there’s a lot more to this.”
She waited.
When he refused to say
more, she gently poked him in the ribs.
He hissed and smacked at her hand, but not hard enough to hurt her. Then he winced as if his own actions had caused him pain. He glared at her before he spoke again. “Do you really care to know?”
“Yes.”
With another deep sigh, he ran his hand over his whiskers and she watched the play of lean tendons under the bruised skin. “When I was fourteen, I was doing a filch for a certain political candidate on Ritadaria. The information he wanted was pretty routine, just dirt about his opponent and their party. I was going along my merry way, recording and scanning secure chips in their offices, when I accidentally came across Merjack’s personal diary.”
“Chief Minister of Justice?”
“No, his son, who later became president.” He paused. “What I discovered was that the Minister and his son were responsible for President Fretaugh’s death.”
She gaped at his disclosure. “They killed him?”
“In a manner of speaking. Back in the day, the Minister was only a vice warden in our fun little prison. He released one of the assassins for the hit and, once the assassin killed the president, Merjack’s son killed him to keep the man from talking.”
She scowled at his far-fetched story. “That seems like a lot of effort to go to. Why not kill the president themselves?”
“They needed an airtight alibi. What better one than being directly beside the man when he’s executed and the whole thing is being covered by every major news organization in existence? All the assassin had to do was shout out a political statement against the president as he killed him and everyone assumed our friends had nothing to do with it. And no investigation was held since everyone plainly saw it was a psycho zealot who took the president out. Likewise, no one thought twice about the hero who ended up killing the zealot while trying to apprehend him. Ironic really, by killing the man they’d hired to murder the president and covering their tracks, Jonas Merjack was able to secure the presidency for himself. Living proof that there really is no justice in the world.”
Shahara digested that slowly. Now this was an interesting snippet and it went a long way in explaining why Merjack wanted Syn so badly.
Then again, Syn could be lying. Filches had a nasty habit of doing that sort of thing when it suited their purposes. “And you have the chip to prove all of this?”
Sherrilyn Kenyon - [League 02] Page 11