That he did, cause Syn wasn't about to give him what he wanted. If he did, the Minister would kill him.
Uriah Merjack stared menacingly at Syn, wishing to all that was holy he knew some way to break him.
As soon as they'd brought Syn into the sterile interrogation room on Ritadaria, he'd been completely stripped while they searched his entire body for weapons and contraband. Every single cavity. One could never be too careful when dealing with a man as crafty as this one had proven to be.
Satisfied that Syn had no way to fight back, Uriah had then ordered him secured to an interrogation table.
That had been nine hours ago. In that time Uriah had tried every device of torture known to them: mind probes, electrodes, orifice probes, serums.
Finally they'd decided to dispense with the table, and use a more primitive means of inducement. Securing his hands above his head with a chain and his feet with manacles, Syn was held against the wall while they tried to beat and torture the information out of him.
The light gray wall, as well as all of them, was splattered with his blood.
Still he wouldn't break. Damn him! He wouldn't even honor their efforts with a scream or pleading.
There was only one other person Uriah had ever come across with that kind of fortitude. "Just like a damned Wade," he breathed under his breath.
The warden, Traysen, turned toward him. "What was that, sir?"
Uriah shook his head at the prison warden, who had overheard his mumbling. "Nothing." He faced the interrogator who was showing signs of the same frustration. Neither of them was used to dealing with someone this damned stubborn. Most people broke within half an hour. The longest anyone had lasted to date was three.
Except for Idirian Wade . . .
Uriah looked at the interrogator. "What other means are left to us?"
The interrogator, a beefy man in his mid-forties who had the best reputation for inducing pain in the known worlds, shrugged. "Sir, I've tried everything. If you give me a little time to do research, I might find some ancient forms that could prove beneficial. But at this point . . . I've never seen anything like it."
Uriah clenched his teeth in aggravation. Of course not--because let's face it, the rat held the key to his survival while the other criminals had only been nuisances. If they didn't get this bastard to break, Uriah and his son would be rotting in a cell next to him.
So why should this go easy?
Crossing the floor, he grabbed Syn's hair and wrenched his head back. Blood poured from a cut above one eye and out of his nose and mouth. "Tell me where the chip is, rat."
"Still on the old block?"
Furious at yet another smart-ass retort, he kidney-punched him in the kidney.
Tensing with the blow, Syn sucked his breath in between his bloodied teeth and grimaced. "Who taught you to hit? Your grandmother?" He narrowed that demented dark glare on him. "The only person you're going to scare with that is a three-year-old girl."
Just as he drew back to hit him again, Uriah's son stepped forward from where he'd been leaning against the wall.
Tall and slender with short brown hair, Jonas pushed Uriah back a step, then moved to brush bloody strands of hair off Syn's face. "I know this has to be killing you. Literally and figuratively. Why not save all of us a great deal of trouble and just tell us where you stashed it?"
Syn smiled coldly, displaying a mouth full of bloody teeth. Did they really think he was dumb enough to answer that? If he gave them that chip, he was dead.
As long as he was alive, he stood a chance of escaping.
But gods, he was tired and he hurt so bad . . . Even blinking burned. No part of him had been left unviolated or undamaged.
No, not true. They hadn't assaulted him where it really mattered.
Only his ex-wife and son could hit him there.
All Merjack and crew did was hit him on the surface, and that he could take. It felt like a typical weekend night when his dad had been on a bender and feeling particularly vicious. If they thought they could break him with these puny attempts, they had a lot to learn.
Only his father had ever reduced him to tears.
And his son.
No, this was nothing . . . just like him.
Syn laughed at Jonas's pathetic offer. "Why don't you try checking up your--"
Uriah punched him again. Pain exploded as he felt his ribs shift.
"Father, please!" Jonas snapped. "We mustn't kill him. Not yet."
The interrogator cleared his throat and addressed Jonas. "Lord President, it may be too late for that, sir. His injuries are extensive."
Jonas looked at Uriah, his brows drawn together in concern. "We must stop this and allow him to recover before we begin questioning him again."
Oh goody . . . What a great kindness on their part. He couldn't wait.
Uriah nodded in agreement. Syn's death without that chip was useless to them. Anyone could find it. Anyone could have it. And now that Syn was up against rape and murder charges on Gouran, it was more than likely he would trade the chip to the Overseer of Justice for amnesty or at least a lighter sentence.
God help them then.
They had to have that chip!
The little bastard could ruin them and be damned if he'd lose his life and position to something as low as a Wade.
He looked at the guards and the interrogator before he replaced Syn's muzzle--it wouldn't do to have him talk to anyone but them. "Take him to solitary and keep him there until I say otherwise."
The three guards unchained Syn from the wall. Instead of falling down like a normal person, somehow he managed to stay standing as they cuffed his hands behind his back.
Syn's strength awed him.
And before they led him away, Syn cast him a cold, evil glare that was all too familiar. One that made the hair on the back of his neck rise in fear.
But then what had he expected? Syn was the son of Idirian Wade--the sickest, most lethal criminal to have ever been conceived.
And Wades didn't buckle easily.
Jonas turned to face him. His blue eyes mirrored the same fears and concerns Uriah had. "What are we going to do, Father?"
"Relax, Jonas. You are one of the most powerful leaders in the United Systems. Fretting doesn't become you."
"Neither does a public trial and execution."
"I can control him."
Jonas shook his head. "That's what you said when he was merely a child. If you couldn't break him then, what the hell makes you think you can break him twenty-three years later? We have to have that chip! I've come too far to have some gutter rat bring me down now."
Uriah ran his hand across his jaw. Wades weren't really gutter rats. They were sharks. And if one didn't watch one's leg, it would be painfully cut off.
Along with other things.
Still, he hadn't known Syn was a Wade the first time around. Now he was prepared. After all, he'd been the one to bring Syn's father to trial and execution. A feat that had earned him the honor and gratitude of all governments.
He knew what to expect from Syn now.
"As I said, I'm in control of the situation. I will think of a way to break him. Don't worry." Even as he said the words, Uriah couldn't suppress the memory of Idirian Wade's execution.
Wade had walked into the termination booth without fear or remorse. Never in his life had he seen anyone so calm.
So purely evil.
As the gas seeped into the room, Idirian had looked at him and smiled as if to say "I'll get you someday."
Uriah had thought then as he did now that surely evil like that didn't die.
Maybe his son was his vengeance on him after all . . .
"Sir?"
He jumped at the sound of Warden Traysen's voice. He hadn't realized Traysen had remained while Syn was taken to his cell. Had it been any man other than Traysen, he'd now be dead. But Uriah had learned a long time ago that this seax's loyalty belonged solely to him.
"What is it, Traysen?
"I think I may know of a solution."
He exchanged an interested look with his son. "Yes?"
"You remember my colleague, Seax Dagan?"
"The girl who gave him to us?"
"Yes, sir. I think she may be of use to you again." Jonas scowled. "How is that?"
"I think she could persuade him to lead her to the chip."
Uriah scoffed at the ludicrousness of that. "How? Syn would never trust her again after what she did to him."
"Maybe, maybe not. But if anyone in the universe exists who can accomplish this feat, it is she. I've never known anyone more resourceful or cunning. I believe if you give her a chance, she will prove most worthy."
Still Uriah wasn't convinced. He didn't like dealing with unknown people he couldn't control. "Why would she do this for us?"
"She has a family she helps support, one of whom has a severe gambling problem, and another with congenital medical necessities. Dagan is desperate and poor, and in grave need of money. For, let's say, a million credits, I'm sure she'd do anything. And ask no questions."
Jonas sucked his breath in. "I don't know, Father. She's a Seax, sworn to their oaths. Why would she--"
"Traysen is also a Seax," Uriah said with a smile. "Their loyalty can be bought. Is that not right, Traysen?"
"Yes, sir. Everyone has a price tag. It's just a question of how much."
Jonas crossed the room to stand directly in front of Traysen so that he could give him a menacing glare. "You better be sure of her greed."
"I'd bet my life on it."
"Good, because that's exactly what you'll pay with, Traysen, if you're wrong." Stroking his chin, Jonas looked back at his father. "Do it then and let's hope it works."
CHAPTER 5
Shahara paused in the doorway of her sister's hospital room that had cost her in ways Tessa had no idea of. Tessa lay on the bed looking so pale and weak. Her blond hair was mussed while the bruises still marred the beauty of her face. Several different types of monitors beeped and whirred. One to monitor her kidneys which had been damaged during her beating, and Shahara wasn't sure about the others. All she knew was that they terrified her.
But even more horrifying than their presence was the fear that the doctors would order them removed for lack of payment, and condemn Tessa to the slow, agonizing death their mother had suffered.
At twenty-four, Tessa was almost the exact duplicate of their father. When not in pain, her green eyes sparkled with life and her curly blond hair was often unruly. Shahara had spent countless hours with Tessa as a child experimenting with different hair ointments and gels to try and tame it into a style. They'd finally admitted defeat and just grown it out long.
Shahara swallowed. She loved her siblings more than her life.
Still unaware of her presence, Tessa was lying on her bed while her boyfriend, Thad, sat next to her holding her hand. Only inches separated their faces and he stroked her cheek tenderly with his left hand.
A strange ache pressed against her chest as she watched them. How she longed to have someone look at her like that. To touch her cheek and make her smile even while her life was falling apart.
But those dreams were for fools. Nothing in life ever lasted.
Watching the two of them, she began to feel like an intruder.
What was she doing here?
Tessa didn't need her prudish sister around. Besides, she made Thad extremely nervous. He always acted like he was afraid she'd throw him to the ground, handcuff him, and arrest him.
Backing away, she turned to leave.
"Shay?" Tessa called. "Is that you?"
With a deep breath, she forced herself to reverse course and enter the room. "Hi." She moved to kiss Tessa's forehead. "I wanted to check on you. And," she held up the plastic bag in her hand, "I brought you some things I thought might help you get better."
Grabbing the bag, Tessa beamed.
Shahara looked away from her battered face as rage whipped through her. She couldn't stand the thought of anyone hurting her sister that way. God help those beasts when she got her hands on them.
And she would get her hands on them. There was no doubt about it.
Thad laughed as Tessa held up her ragged childhood doll. "You even brought Molly?"
Shahara shrugged. "I know you don't sleep well without her nearby."
Her sister smiled warmly. "Thank you. You're the best sister ever."
"Don't let Kasen hear that or she'll punch you."
Tessa laughed.
A nurse walked in with an injector. "It's time for her vitals. Will you please wait outside?"
Shahara led the way.
As Thad opened the door for her, his hand brushed against her shoulder. She immediately shied away.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled in a sheepish apology.
Embarrassed herself by the action, Shahara put two arms' length between them. "It's all right."
They stood on opposite sides of the hallway for several awkward minutes before Thad spoke again. "So where did you get the money?"
She watched as a group of doctors and nurses conferred down the hallway and tried to imagine Syn with his lethal air in such a refined group, wearing their scrubs.
It just somehow didn't work in her mind.
"Caillen paid them off."
"No, not the loaners. For the hospital. Caillen told me he didn't have the money for both."
Frowning, she turned her full attention to him. "They haven't been paid yet." She was still waiting for payment from Merjack.
"That's not what they told me. I tried to pay part of it when I arrived, but the clerk told me the balance was paid in full."
Now that didn't make sense. "They must have made a mistake."
He shrugged. "Maybe. Since I wasn't family, she wouldn't tell me anything more than that."
Could Caillen have come up with the money and just not had time to tell her?
Excusing herself from Thad, she went to check.
To her relief, the line inside the spartan business office was short and she only had to wait five minutes before a pinched-faced clerk motioned her forward.
Shahara stepped up to the waist-high counter.
The woman looked bored and irritable as if she'd been here way too long and wanted to go home. "Patient name?"
"Tessa Dagan."
She typed it in. "And how may I help you?"
"I need to know how much we owe."
"And you are?"
"Seax Shahara Dagan. I'm the one responsible for the bill."
The woman huffed as if annoyed with Shahara's presence. "I've already gone through this with a man. Can't you people understand? The account is paid. You don't owe any money."
Shahara stared at the billing clerk in disbelief. It couldn't be. "That can't be right. Please. Check again."
The woman turned her computer screen to face Shahara. "You can see for yourself. Tessa Dagan's account was paid in full three days ago by Sheridan Belask. He also left an open balance in the event we needed more for her treatments, and gave her and her family credit for the cafeteria and hospital store should you need something."
Shahara blanched. Sheridan Belask?
Syn?
The man whose location she'd turned in to the Ritadarion officials had paid for her sister's treatment?
Suddenly the light gray walls around her seemed a little too close, a little too bright. She felt as if someone had just delivered a debilitating blow to her stomach.
How could Syn have done such a thing after she'd gone after him?
Why would he have done this?
It didn't make sense. No one would do such a thing. Kindness was not in people's natures. Ever.
Especially not someone with Syn's brutal past.
No, he must have wanted something from her. Something more than just her oath. That was it. That made sense.
It was a good thing she'd made her pact with Merjack because C.I. Syn would have eventually come to her for repayment. Without a doubt.
Wouldn't he?
"Thank you." She turned and left the office.
But what if she was wrong?
You're not wrong. He raped and murdered that poor girl in cold blood--you saw what her father said. Her fellow tracers wouldn't be terrified of him without just cause.
And her own interaction with him had proven just how cold and dangerous a person he was.
No one would ever do a good deed without expecting payment for it. Gaelin had taught her that. And she'd learned her lesson well.
Her mind whirling, she didn't bother to stop in and say goodbye to Tessa. At the moment, she couldn't face anyone. Especially not her gentle sister who would never understand why she'd gone back on her word and turned Syn in. Even if it meant Tessa's life.
I didn't go back on my oath. Technically. She'd sworn not to stalk him. She hadn't sworn not to call the authorities and tell them where to find him.
You're arguing semantics.
Tessa would be the first one to beat her up over that, but then Tessa could afford the luxury of naivete. She couldn't.
In a daze, she made her way home.
Shahara pushed open her front door and saw Kasen sitting on her sofa, munching her last handful of friggles while she watched a small handheld viewer.
Kasen's strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that curled around the nape of her neck. Out of all her siblings, Kasen was the only who shared her eye color, which had come to them through their maternal grandfather. Big-boned and stocky, Kasen was cute enough on the outside, but her churlish personality was sometimes rather difficult to stomach.
"Hey, Sis," Kasen said absently as she kept watching her show.
"Hey, Kase." Though she loved her sister, she wished Kasen would leave. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with her right now.
Kasen frowned. "You look like you were chewed up by a wolf and shit down the wrong side of a mountain. What's wrong?"
I just remanded a man to custody who bailed me out and I feel like crap over it.
That was something she couldn't share with Kasen and her acerbic personality.
So she shook her head as she dropped her blaster on her kitchen counter. Kasen was not one to confide in. She left such things to Caillen. But not even he could help her right now because if she dared tell him what she'd done, he'd have her head. He didn't like the idea of her being a tracer to begin with, but their desperate financial situation had made him accept it. If he ever learned that she'd taken a mission to travel alone to apprehend a man of Syn's reputation, he would absolutely flip.
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