Dark Remnants (Street Games Book 1)

by L. K. Hill

  Looking down, she realized it had torn her slacks and left a gash in her thigh. Nichols was studying at the tear, dyed red with a bit of blood. His wore a confused frown. He was probably trying to figure out how she’d gotten the injury since she’d been with him. She waived her hand dismissively to show him it was nothing, but he didn’t look convinced.

  Finally, silence settled over the alley. Staying in a crouch, Kyra duck-walked to the opening, sticking her head and shoulders into the perpendicular alley. She looked both ways, peering into the gloom for anything that might be sitting still in the shadows. There was nothing. They had the passage to themselves.

  Easing up to her full height, she turned to Gabe, who did the same. “Come on,” she nodded her head and stepped into the alley.

  “Where’d you get that cut on your leg?” Gabe asked.

  “It was…something I did earlier,” she answered in her husky voice, moving down the alley. When he didn’t follow, she turned back. “Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing a bandage won’t fix. Now come on.”

  “Not until you talk to me about what just happened. What are you doing here? Who are you?”

  “They’re still looking for us, Detective. We can’t stay out in the open like this. Now come on.” She turned to go.

  “Where are we going?” He spoke softly, but didn’t bother to whisper anymore.

  “In this direction,” she said stubbornly, glaring at him over her shoulder.

  He let out a soft growl, but followed. He probably thought he’d be able to corner her and make her answer his questions once they got to a safer place. She didn’t intend to let him.

  They wound through dark streets and shadowy alleys, tunnels and twists and forgotten crevices of the city that even creatures of the night would only happen on by accident. Kyra wasn’t always positive the routes she took would end up where she wanted, but she was familiar enough with the layout of the Slip Mire to make educated guesses, and she was rewarded by never hitting dead ends.

  Finally, she reached the place she’d been aiming for and stopped.

  “What is it?” Gabe asked at her shoulder.

  She turned to him. “Nothing. We’re here.”

  “Where?”

  She turned to point at the alley ahead of them. It wound sharply, disappeared fifty feet ahead. “Follow this route. It’ll twist and turn a few more times, but there aren’t any more intersections. It will let out up the street from Norse’s hole. I suppose your cop buddies are still there?”

  He blinked at her several times. “You brought me all the way back?”

  She shrugged. “Yes.”

  He stepped around her and took a few steps down the alley before turning back. “Come with me.” He held out his hand, but she recoiled. Letting out a sigh of exasperation, he dropped his hand and stepped closer. “You’ve saved my life more than once, now. You killed Norse.”

  Fear dragged its fingernails over Kyra’s stomach. She’d done that because it had been the right thing to do at the time. She hadn’t thought ahead to what it might mean where the cops were concerned. “He would have killed you,” she said, unable to keep the defensiveness from her voice.

  “I’m not condemning you,” he said quietly. “I need you to…make a statement, if nothing else.”

  She shook her head and stepped back. “I’d really rather not.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you really think I would bring harm to you after…all of this?”

  A soft wind meandered through the alley. It was warm, but after their long jog, it felt good against Kyra’s hot skin. Something about it—or was it him?—made her sad. “Not intentionally,” she said quietly.

  He stared at her, face stony and unreadable, eyes searching her face. She couldn’t make herself meet them. “I’m a cop, Supra. I can protect you.”

  “I have to go.” She turned.

  “Supra.”

  That name on his lips sounded strange to her—stranger than Tanya had, though she didn’t know why; perhaps because she was more herself as Tanya than as Supra—but hearing it put a hook around her middle, and she turned to face him.

  He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, closing it again. He stepped closer and peered into her face, frowning. She turned away, but he moved closer. He didn’t touch her, but continued to gaze down at her, even though she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Something wrong, detective?” she asked quietly, not looking up.

  After a moment, he blinked, stepped back, and ran a hand through his hair. “Supra, I’m so tired I can hardly see straight. And I haven’t eaten anything since…I don’t even know when. But…” he peered at her again. “Who are you? Have we ever met before?”

  Kyra turned her face away. Her heart went out to him. His pupils were the size of pinpricks, his forearms still bloody from his run-in with Norse, and his face pale. His instincts were probably screaming at him that he should be making connections, but his body was too exhausted to allow him to do it.

  “You’re asking me if we’ve met before tonight?” she asked, putting an edge on her voice so it sounded like she was making fun of him.

  “No,” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair again. “Forget it. Look, you have to trust somebody sometime.” His tone said she was being ridiculous. “No one can survive in the world alone. Especially in this city. In this district. And what are you going to do?” His voice dropped to an anguished whisper. “Return to the shadowy underbelly where gangsters are looking to kill you?”

  Kyra had plenty of practiced replies, but they all deserted her. The look concern on his face, the true worry in his eyes, made her chest hurt.

  True, she’d only been in the city a short while, but time passed differently in hell than it did in lighter places. Her family back home cared about her, but she hadn’t seen them in months, and they didn’t know what she was really doing. They couldn’t show sympathy about things they knew nothing about. No one had shown concern for her well-being since she’d arrived in Abstreuse. Granted, it was her own doing and had to remain that way, but the detective’s genuine worry brought tears to her eyes, and she found she was reluctant to leave.

  She turned her gaze down so that the dim light in the alley wouldn’t reflect off the moisture in her eyes. She couldn’t go with him. She couldn’t face it. Not now. Not tonight. When he realized she was Tanya, he would be angry at the deception. Of course he would. Who wouldn’t be?

  Evelyn, the precious little Carlotta girl, had been harmed in the worst possible way. If only Kyra had been more forward to begin with, not so concerned with her cover, she might have prevented it. Maybe. Nothing was certain. But…

  She shied away from the thought, both physically and mentally, turning her back on Gabe. How could she face him if she couldn’t face herself? How could she face any of his fellow officers? Despite a few bad apples in any group, as a whole, cops were some of the most honest, upstanding, heroic people on earth. And those who voluntarily worked in the most dangerous district of one of the most dangerous cities in the country? She wouldn’t be able to look them in the face once they realized she could have saved the child much earlier, but hadn’t.

  No doubt afraid she would try to leave, Gabe took hold of her wrist as she turned from him, anchoring her to the spot. She didn’t try to pull away, though her arm was extended out behind her, not wanting to turn back around until she’d schooled her face to stillness.

  She told herself not be ridiculous. He didn’t even know her. This wasn’t about her. He was a cop. It was his job to care, to police the streets he was sworn to protect. That was all.

  Gently peeling his fingers from her wrist, she turned to face him again. “I can’t come with you, detective. Not now. Please don’t ask me to.”

  “Supra, I swear I’ll make sure you’re protected. Both physically, and in terms of your identi—”

  “That’s not it. That’s not the reason.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Then why?�
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  She dropped her face into her hands. Why did he have to push so stubbornly for answers she didn’t want to give? Careful not to rub her makeup too vigorously or dislodge her wig, she ran her fingers up into her hair before dropping her hands. “Because there are things you don’t know about me. Things I haven’t told you. And once you realize…you aren’t going to like me much.”

  He looked at her like she’d just announced the sky was green. “Like you much? Supra, I don’t know anything about you.”

  Yes, you do.

  “You haven’t told me anything at all about yourself.”

  Yes, I have.

  Even as he said it, he grimaced. It was so far beside the point as to veer toward ridiculousness, or at least it would be if she was only Supra. He still hadn’t recognized her, so he didn’t understand her reluctance. She couldn’t bring herself to enlighten him.

  She gave him a sad smile. “Yes, I have. You just don’t realize it. You’re a good detective, Gabe Nichols. You have everything you need to figure out who I am, or at least most of it.” She absently fingered the tear in the thigh of her slacks, until Gabe glanced down at it. She forced her hand to be still by her side. “And you will…eventually.”

  He took another step toward her. “If I’m so awesome and am going to figure it out anyway, why can’t you just tell me now?”

  “Because I’m not a huge fan of myself right now. And I just…” she spread her hands, nearly rubbing her face again before forcing her hands down. “I just…have to—”

  A loud clatter from up the alley cut her off. Both of them jumped toward the shadows against one wall. Already this night had given them a survival reflex. Gabe reached an arm out horizontally in front of her. Whether to shepherd her toward the shadows or protect her from what was coming, she didn’t know.

  More thuds followed the clatters, and then voices that were not far off. From around the bend, narrow beams of light cut through the shadows. Flashlights. The static of radios reached Kyra’s ears. There were cops coming down the alley from the other direction. They were probably searching for Gabe. If the other cop with the injured detective had made it back, they’d probably launched search parties.

  Gabe looked toward the sounds, listening intently.

  Before the clatter cut her off, she’d been about to dismiss his concerns and disappear again. Now, studying him, knowing he cared, even if it was only because he was paid to, she suddenly wanted to abandon all her own rules.

  For some reason she couldn’t explain to herself, she wanted him to know who she was. She didn’t relish explaining things to him, but she still wanted him to know. There was an excellent chance she would die in Abstreuse. She didn’t want to—at least not until she found Manny—but she’d known the danger she was getting into by coming here, and she’d come anyway. She’d made her peace with all possible outcomes. Death, if it came, would be atonement enough for the things she’d done.

  But what if she wasn’t strong enough? What if she died somewhere in the city before finding Manny? What if she couldn’t help him…or herself? She might expire at the hands of someone like Norse, or Otter, or perhaps even worse than them. If that happened, no one would know what she’d been trying to do. No one would understand. Even her family didn’t know why she was here. She had a cover story to appease even them. If she disappeared, she would do just that: disappear, with no trace and no explanation. No one would ever know the space of ground, deep in the underbelly of the city that would become her shadowy, unmarked grave.

  But perhaps this detective would remember her. Maybe he couldn’t really know her, or understand what she was doing—he surely wouldn’t approve if he knew all of it—but maybe he would remember that their paths once crossed. Maybe it would be enough if she failed.

  For Kyra, it would have to be.

  She stepped closer to him, so she stood almost against his chest, and he turned his head toward her. Their faces were inches apart, and she did something then that she would never have done in any other circumstance: she went up on her toes and kissed him.

  She could feel the surprise in his body language, but he didn’t pull away. Even that warmed her heart. Detective Nichols was a genuinely decent human being. He hadn’t expected her to kiss him, and probably didn’t want to kiss her—she didn’t imagine spikey hair and pale skin were what a tough-as-nails cops looked for in a woman—but he probably didn’t want to hurt her feelings either, so he didn’t pull away.

  The kiss lasted only three heartbeats. Then she stepped back, turning her face to the ground and moving away from him, unable to meet his gaze. He reached out for her again, but she danced back, out of his grip.

  He opened his mouth, then shut it again, watching her worriedly. She forced herself to meet his eyes. They were confused and distraught, trying to drill into her and learn her secrets.

  She sniffed. She hadn’t realized she was crying until snot nearly ran out of her nose. More noises from the alley made him turn.

  “Who’s there?” a muffled voice demanded.

  “It’s me. Detective Nichols,” Gabe called, raising his hands over his head where they’d be clearly visible. The next moment, the white beam of a flashlight hit him.

  Kyra turned on her toe and fled. She counted three, four, five seconds before Gabe’s voice hit her ears. “Supra, wait!” It sounded very far away. Kyra was a fast runner.

  “Supra!”

  Sorry detective. She scrubbed brutally at her eyes. That’s not my name.

  Chapter 23

  It was another three hours before Gabe made it back to the precinct, rubbing his eyes and slapping his face several times an hour to keep himself awake. It’d been nearly two days now since the last time he’d slept. The SWAT team swept the alley Gabe had chased Norse down, following Gabe’s directions. They found the place where Norse was killed—evidenced by the pool of relatively fresh blood they came across—but there was no body. Gabe could only assume that the two gangsters who’d chased him and Supra had gone back and dragged the body away.

  He’d explained everything to Shaun—leaving out only the part where she’d kissed him—and they’d finished up at the scene. Supra’s report of finding the little girl was correct, as was her assessment of how the child had been harmed. Gabe could only shake his head. He could deal with gangsters killing one another; even with murders. Bringing a child into the equation was just a whole other thing.

  “This Supra woman sure has a bad habit of getting away from you,” Shaun muttered, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over his mustaches, as he often did when musing over something.

  Gabe spread his hands. “You’re telling me. What do you want me to do? She’s the one who killed Norse, but…”

  “Did you fire your weapon?”

  “No, Sir. I had it drawn but never discharged it.”

  Shaun nodded. “Put that in your report. Get someone to verify it—maybe even have CSU swab your hands for gunshot residue, just to make sure you’re covered. Put everything that happened in the report, just as you’ve told me. The way I see it, we don’t even have a body. Why go after someone for shooting a gangster in self-defense, when we don’t even have proof of his death? Unless she approaches us, or something else happens, just leave it at that.”

  Gabe nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He kept his voice official, but was secretly relieved. Something about Supra made him want to trust her—protect her, even.

  “Any word on Tyke?”

  Shaun nodded. “He’s fine. I swear the man has nine lives. The bullet went right through, near his collarbone. He’ll be laid up for a week or so, but it missed all major arteries. The doctors say with some antibiotics and R&R, he’ll be just fine.”

  Gabe nodded, relieved. Tyke had been shot twice before while working in or around the Slip Mire, and stabbed another time. All three were relatively minor injuries to his extremities, but everyone kidded him about his luck. It always made Gabe uncomfortable, though. For a cop working in this city, luck like tha
t was bound to run out eventually. At least for tonight, Tyke’s luck had held. A strange night, but it ended as well as anyone could have expected.

  When he arrived at the station, he got more strange news.

  “Tanya got away? How?”

  Doug looked chagrined. “I’m not sure myself. She came and asked me where the ladies’ room was. I told her I’d show her the way. I waited outside the door, just across the hall here,” he pointed, “but she never came back out. After a while, I knocked on the door. When I got no response, I tried to open it. She’d dead-bolted it. I ran outside, figuring she might have gone through a window. Didn’t find anything—there’s nothing but pavement beneath those windows; she wouldn’t have left tracks—but she’d probably been gone twenty minutes by then. It was an hour before we found someone from maintenance to unlock the door.”

  “And?” Gabe pressed. “What’d you find in the bathroom?”

  Doug shrugged. “Nothing. The windows are tiny. I know she’s small but I still can’t fathom how she got through them.”

  Gabe sighed and rubbed his face. “Show me.”

  After sending Cora in to make sure the ladies’ room was empty, Gabe went in. Cora stayed and held the door open for them. Gabe had never been in the ladies’ room before, but it wasn’t unlike the men’s rooms in the precinct building, minus the urinals of course. The only windows were up high, near the ceiling. They opened inward, like wedges, but the opening wasn’t even ninety degrees—more like forty-five.

  Gabe shook his head. “I don’t think she could have gotten out that way either. Are we sure that’s it?”

  Doug, who’d come in to stand behind him, shrugged. “Unless she pulled a Harry Potter and went down the u-bend, it has to be. The door was bolted from the inside.”