by KH LeMoyne
“You’re getting sloppy, Ebris.”
He glanced at Ty, who leaned against the thick steel door, his arms crossed, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. Nothing reflected on Ty’s face unless he chose, except the occasional tension in his jaw and the fire in his eyes when he was riled. Right now, ease radiated from the commander responsible for more than fifty team members’ wellbeing and the rescue of hundreds of innocent people. Perhaps he really felt nothing for his wife’s death. The thought sent unexpected relief through Clay, which he immediately squelched. “Do I need to be on my toes with you every minute?”
“Didn’t even hear me come in, did you? You need to be alert with everyone.”
“Guess that counts for your traitorous wife. What do you want me to do with the deceased Mrs. Vier?”
Ty’s eyes narrowed as he pushed away from the door to stand before him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Clay lurched from his seat, pushing past Ty’s shoulder, the sudden need to pace and relieve dangerous adrenaline controlling his brain. He couldn’t bear to look at his friend. Her betrayal of them both churned bile into his throat. “She followed you two weeks ago when you dropped off the medicine and the dampener—or were you just trying to ditch her so I would take care of her for you?”
“I expected you to take care of her. Period. The Regents squads are canvassing every crumb they can find, using every opportunity to apply pressure and get information. She needed to be gone.”
Damn. Clay whipped back around. Ty expected him to kill her for him?
“You can’t really think I didn’t know she was there.” Ty’s expression changed into a fierce scowl; his hands clenched, all calm gone as he stalked over to him.
“Why bring her to me?” Clay retreated several steps, uncertain where he had lost insight on this situation. “Why not take care of her yourself? The bombing would have done the trick. Doesn’t look like anyone would suspect you, Regent Vier.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Ty hauled Clay up by his shirt. Before Clay could react, his back slammed against the wall. “Tell me you haven’t hurt her.”
He gritted his teeth at the impact and stared at Ty in confusion. If he knew she had followed him to the trailer and didn’t want her silenced, what the hell was his game? “Whatever sick joke you two are playing, I don’t want any part of it.” He forced Ty’s hands away and slammed him in the chest, shoving him backward.
“I brought her to you,” Ty shouted as he pointed a finger at Clay. “She’s perfect to work with your segment of the operation. I expected you to see her value and use her.”
Clay’s mouth dropped open in shock. Blood welled in a hot pain behind his eyes and pushed him over the edge. His fist slammed into Ty’s jaw. “Like I need you recruiting for me.”
His action should have shocked him. Instead, the pain he had witnessed in Esme’s eyes lessened with his strike at Ty and the throbbing in his own fist. Anything to make the pain disappear.
Eyes bright with rage, Ty growled back, “Because I respect you, you get that one shot. The next hit and I’m taking you down. I won’t even give you your injury as an excuse if you keep this up.”
“Like I give a flying fuck. I’m healed, so take your best shot. Or you can pick up your little whore and crawl back home.”
Even after his taunt, the strike took Clay by surprise. Shiny watermarks wavered in front of his normal eye as he tried to force the ceiling into focus from his position on the floor. Gripped again by his shirt, he flew farther back onto his ass.
“I’m going to assume you’re angry because you care about her. I’ll also assume you’re in love with her and it’s made you incredibly stupid. It’s obvious you’re not going to bother to listen to me. I’m guessing you didn’t even allow Esme to clarify her relationship with me.”
Clay wiped the blood from the side of his mouth and spat. “What’s to ask? She’s your wife. Your third wife.”
“Yes. And do you want to know why?”
Clay blinked. What a stupid question. She was smart, gorgeous, an incredible lover, and she wanted to have children. Who wouldn’t want Esme?
Ty leaned back his head and closed his eyes. With a snort, he turned back. “I married her to save her life, not to fuck her.”
“I don’t need a visual on your private relationship.” Unfortunately, the image of Esme’s naked body in the same room with his best friend made his stomach clench and a red haze fog his vision. It took every ounce of willpower to stay in the moment and focus. “Save her from what?”
“Ivan Loures was set for execution. The council was perfectly willing to let Esme Loures die with her husband.”
Feeling almost dizzy, Clay waited for his network to catch up and regulate his heartbeat, now in overdrive. She’d told him her husband was a traitor. He just never figured she married Public Enemy Number One—and that counted from both the Regents and the Underground. “The one who rigged the Founder’s Day explosion and killed all those families?”
“One and the same.”
He looked beyond the storage crates to the dark corner. This was getting uglier by the minute. How had he never seen any of this in her gorgeous face? How could she keep so many secrets from him? He forced the logical questions, fighting down the part of him that refused to consider Esme capable of the same atrocities as Ivan Loures. “Why wasn’t she immediately charged like her husband?”
“Clayton. Damn it, have you learned nothing being with her these few weeks?” Ty shook his head again. “She was sold to Loures by her father, for the same skills that made me think she’d be a good match for you. But since you refuse to ask, I’ll tell you why I led her to you.” His fists flexed as Clay started to object. “Shut up. I’m giving you this whether you want it or not. She reminded me of you. I though you two might be right together. That you might have something to offer each other beyond your incredible talents.”
“You gave me your wife?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out the way it did, though the fact Vier had claim to Esme, body and title, was eating him alive.
“Did I make some mistake, Ebris? The message to the doc was to save you, right? Because she cares for you.”
His injuries… Yeah, she was incredible under pressure. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. She had found a way to get help and absorbed the details on his cyber modifications. He had no doubt she could perform the surgery again by herself if need be. He tried to erase that thought. There wouldn’t be a next time. She was someone else’s wife.
“We never had sex. It’s a marriage in name only.” The soft words cut through his haze of misery, and Clay opened his eyes to look at Ty. In all the time they had known each other, Ty had never lied to him. He hated that he used his cochlear enhancement to read his best friend’s vocal tone to be certain. He wanted Esme to have chosen him, as she claimed, not pick him as second best. Somehow the confirmation his cyber implant fed back only made him disgusted with himself.
“There’s no chemistry—for either of us,” Ty repeated.
“She’s still married. Twice.”
“The dead one doesn’t count. And unless you do something extremely stupid, I’m really not an issue.”
Clay tried to swallow against the bitterness. Only determination forced him to rip the raw wound further open. “You took her as a breeder.”
He had never seen pity turn to disgust so quickly in Ty’s expression. “I did what was necessary to get her out of the Pit before they broke her. They’ve been trying to rescind my marriage arrangement ever since, trying to bring her back for interrogation. That’s why I manufactured her death.”
With a wince, Clay looked away. The Underground did whatever it took to save lives. If Ty was right about Esme, and his heart didn’t let him conjure any more stupid excuses, then he was being an ass. From all he had seen, in spite of all the monsters in her life, Esme maintained a steady respect for life and her passion, building tools. She didn’t have
the physical DNA to be a monster. He couldn’t fault her for her circumstances. Ty was right—her life was the only important thing, no matter what it took to save her. He just couldn’t get past another man having a greater claim to his piece of heaven. “Why did you trust her?”
“She was found with Loures’s sister and her child after Loures was captured. Esme tried to negotiate their freedom. She claimed to have information to trade for their lives—or so she said—our team managed to get the boy and his mother out during their transport to execution. The interrogation unit wouldn’t let go of the possibility Esme had information. They were never going to let her go.”
Clay couldn’t meet Ty’s gaze. Ty had played him, so certain he would take advantage of Esme’s skills like everyone else in her life. Perhaps the worst part was that he deserved this because he had fallen so easily into that trap. But it wasn’t Esme’s skills holding him captive. It was the spark she brought to his dire existence. Were she “Dr. Doom” herself, he couldn’t love her less.
“And since you haven’t asked, again, I’ll tell you anyway. The sister worked for us. Esme didn’t have a damn thing to trade; she just wanted them safe.” Ty squatted in front of him. “I want to think she cares about you perhaps as much as you care for her.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” No doubt, she hated him now.
“She wouldn’t have stayed with you if she didn’t want to. She figured a way through your security system to contact Radar and save your life. She could easily leave.”
Clay glanced up. “She doesn’t know. Even if I wanted to tell her, she’s safer not knowing about Radar.”
Ty shrugged. “Her guess that Radar was a direct line to me will hold up to scrutiny—for the time being. For what it’s worth, I trust her instincts with my secrets. You should marry her.”
“Are you insane?”
“No.” Ty leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “When the Regents legalized multiple marriages for the purpose of increased procreation, there was no restriction created for gender. I’m sure, in retrospect, they wished they’d added the restriction. However, one of the councilwomen took fondly to the idea of multiple husbands. They’ll never pass a modification now.”
“That’s sick.” Yet a light broke through his self-absorption.
“No. It’s legal.” Ty initiated a screen from his wrist communiqué. With a quick command, he displayed a document.
Clay’s vision wavered as he read the legalese. “This was two days ago. How—”
“The benefit of having a friend who’s a Regent. I can do anything I please—sometimes. If you love her, claim her. Make her your wife in all the ways that count. If someday, my verification of Esme’s body is proven faulty and she reappears alive, then you’re both covered.”
The idea grew, taking hold in Clay’s mind until he winced, remembering where he had left her. “This may not be an option.”
Prepared for Ty’s harsh reaction, he braced himself.
“What the hell did you do to her?” Ty didn’t touch him, but the grating timbre of his voice spoke volumes.
“She’s not harmed. She just isn’t going to speak to me again.” He allowed the hard shove and loud curse. He deserved it. Not waiting for more admonishment, he stood and brushed the bits of packing material and splinters off his pants. His options with Esme seemed infinite and impossible. Two ends of the spectrum. He would most likely end up in the unhappy middle. A true mess of his own making.
Ty ran a hand across the braids on his head. “So now what?”
“Now we’re going back to release Esme.” He turned away but not before he saw Ty’s jaw drop and heard the muttered curse. “Then you’re going to help me salvage the plan for Aaron.”
“We already have team three in position. It’s a little late to doubt the plan.”
“Yeah, but the critical parts of the plan are Esme’s, and I’m not sure how keen she’s going to be on participating at this point. I may need you to keep her from killing me until after we free Aaron.”
“And then?”
“She’s entitled to all the shots at me she wants.”
***
That Clay turned on the light had given Esme some hope.
With a grunt and an awkward twist, she maneuvered behind her back for the safety precaution she’d hidden in the seam of her waistband. She hated confinement, but damn if she didn’t learn from her lessons. Never go anywhere without tools and backup.
She struggled to reach behind her right hip for the tiny sliver of wire she reserved for emergencies. Not that she had expected one to arrive so soon, or as a result of Clay, but life was unpredictable. It was good she didn’t fight the old instinct to be prepared.
Unfortunately, he had chosen to cuff her right arm, which made her goal more difficult. The stretch burned as she squeezed her body against the wall in an attempt to keep still and reach farther. Her fingertips touched the thin wire and pulled—
“Countdown—twenty minutes.”
“Shit.” The wire gleamed from the floor.
She was going to make him suffer for putting her through this, a promise she planned to keep. She reached with her toes. Clenching two toes, it still took her three tries until she finally caught the wire. Negotiating the small hole in the cuffs to disrupt the magnetic lock took longer but didn’t tax her body nearly as much.
With the click, she sank to the floor and for a second rubbed her wrist, contemplating her next move. It would hardly be work. Clay was right—she was a tiny bundle of trouble. All because she had learned to used her time and resources wisely.
She moved to the plasma wall and aimed the cuff’s magnet, now visible with the cuffs open, toward the security section at the far edge of the wall’s control panel. The panel’s receptors turned toward her, tilting it a few degrees. Granted, the panel provided only a seventy-degree angle of remote command acceptance, but if she stood at the farthest edge of the wall and pointed the magnet at the keypad with the new angle—ah, yes. Using the wire, she covered and exposed the magnet in a rapid sequence of instructions.
Not a practical application, but she didn’t need much more than SOS, or in this case Clay’s ID sequence, to trigger the release of the door lock. Sitting around on her butt on the floor had provided her plenty of time to look around, and an even longer time to conceptualize all sorts of ideas. The door clicked and swung a few inches. She dashed to catch it before it drifted closed.
A glance in each direction and a scan of the console confirmed he was definitely gone. She took in the empty room with a sigh and blinked away her emotions. First, she would make sure they weren’t the missing link for the extraction. Then she would figure out how to track Clay, tie him down if need be, and pound some sense into him.
He might be a stubborn SOB, but he was hers, even if he didn’t want to be right now.
She had found the one man in this insane world who she wanted more than life, and she was keeping him. After years invested with professional mercenaries, she understood the wide range of evil and violence. Monfort categorized the darkest end, soulless individuals who never witnessed the death and havoc they authorized, and worse, never cared. From her perspective, Clay, and now Aaron, fell into the victim category. Young men manipulated without choice. Somehow Clay had escaped his fate. He hadn’t trusted her yet with his worst atrocities, but she was prepared whenever he was ready. Esme Loures hadn’t been hatched in a safe cocoon. She had survived men who fed on turmoil and chaos, had witnessed enough to fill her nightmares for a lifetime. She didn’t judge Clay or Aaron. For both of them to have escaped the Regents’ design was her confirmation miracles existed.
First the bedroom. Not bothering with finesse, she took a chair to Clay’s closet and tossed his neat piles aside, looking for her boots.
Next step? She glanced at the numbers counting down on the screen above the control console.
They were already behind schedule, and Clay wasn’t back. His prep bag sat atop the table at th
e back of the room.
Esme grabbed his black mesh jumpsuit and pulled it on over her shirt and tie pants, rolling the pant legs and sleeves as she made her way to the supply shelves. She tucked an ion laser in her pants pocket, strapped a K39 laser cannon to her thigh, cataloged the remaining items, and then slipped on the vest she had prepped with the ERD and dampeners.
She turned back to the console. The plan milestones and the team member assignment filled one screen. Initial assignments displayed in white, which turned to red with completion. Ratter had completed the cutout for the keg’s insertion, Ghost confirmed initiation of the diversion in the squad compound. Onyx confirmed departure for the meet point. A flashing orange assignment required Shepherd’s authorization to commit to the extraction scenario.
Biting her lip, Esme pulled the keyboard in front of her.
Active?
Four “copy” responses cycled back.
Initiate Wolf Xtract
Ghost: Confirm
Ratter: Confirm
Specter: Confirm
Radar: Confirm
She switched from the Shepherd ID to her own.
Karma: 10 minutes to launch
Four confirmations returned in sequence. She released a sigh of relief and snapped on a wrist comm. They were five minutes behind schedule, but everyone was in place, all cogs progressing as planned. Her familiarity with the details for every step of Clay’s plan didn’t stop her from downloading the full sequence to her device. Redundant personnel existed on-call for Ghost and Onyx, with three backup strategies for every point of failure.
Yes, Clay’s plan. She had felt so proud to have him accept her input to the plan, yet he’d spent hours scrutinizing screens and layouts, running scenarios to test each milestone, confirming each overlapping task, all to tighten and verify every minute of the mission. There wasn’t an incident, short of global destruction, he hadn’t accounted for. Which was why, with a five-minute shortfall in the schedule, she could move the team into active status.