He hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his pants and cast his gaze to the cobblestone walkway. “That drug Andrei gave you is called Drop5. It’s new, from some dealer in Japan.”
“And how do you know Mr. Green?”
“I used to work for him. The drug is supposed to make the collection of offerings easier.”
Her chest tightened. “What do you mean, offerings?”
He glanced around as if watching out for anyone listening. “Those guys don’t just traffic drugs,” he said in a hushed voice. “It took me a while to find you. You’re here with the guardian, right?”
Tara furrowed her brow. “What do you want with Zanya?”
He suddenly spoke with more urgency. “Not me, but something is happening that she’s not aware of, and if we don’t stop it, Sarian will have all the power he needs to not only control the book, but to overthrow the underworld. Next is the middleworld. Nobody will be able to stop him. Not even your little team.”
“How do you know about all of this? I thought only Riyata knew about Sarian and the underworld.” Her lips parted. “Wait. Are you Riyata?”
“Unfortunately, no.” The lines in his mouth deepened with a frown. “Maybe if I were, I could have done something.”
“About what?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing. Never mind. The point is, Sarian is working hard to get enough power to make sure nobody is able to take the throne from him once he has it. But he wants something else. The more human sacrifices that are made in his name, the more power he’ll have to take whatever he wants—including your friend.”
“I don’t get how all of this works together. Why is he using drugs?”
They turned a corner and continued into the shopping district of the city. Fruit carts and the scent of earthy spices were replaced with windows of boutiques selling clothes and purses.
“Sarian doesn’t care how he gets what he wants, and even though the king of the underworld would tear him apart if he knew, Sarian has resorted to using humans to do his dirty work. He’s promised to give them certain powers once he is strong enough to overthrow the underworld king.” He huffed. “Better to be on the right hand of Satan than in his way, right?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Anyway. The drug is used to make it easier to handle the girls until it’s their time. Meanwhile, the guys have their fun with the girls.”
Tara’s stomach rolled. “What?”
“Nothing’s off limits. The girls are just toys for them until—” He glanced at her. “After five hours of high, it makes you crash, and unless you’re lucky enough to have someone around to protect you, they collect. Mr. Green is the one in charge of this district, but he’s not the highest ranking.”
“So if you weren’t there that night…”
“You’d be gone.”
She rubbed her face, her skin clammy and cold to the touch. With Zanya still on her rescue mission, and she and Peter on the rocks, she would have to go to Renato for help. Until Zanya returned, Renato would know what to do. They would figure it out together. “I need to get back to the hotel.”
He stopped and planted his palms on either side of her against a building, caging her in place. Tara pressed her hands against his chest to keep him at a distance.
“You can’t leave. We have unfinished business.”
Her body heat spiked and her muscles tensed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He slowly dropped his hands to his sides. “You owe me a favor, and payoff starts now.”
Chapter Seven
With clothes shoved into her backpack, Tara zipped it closed and took one last look at the empty hotel room.
Malachi’s story weighed heavy on her. How anyone could do such things to those girls was unbearable to consider.
Malachi needed to get back in with Mr. Green’s gang, work his way up the badass ladder, and get to the boss, who was working beside Sarian. Apparently, the man was pretty elusive. Since Malachi had never actually met him before, it made their plan much more difficult.
Tara’s heart was constantly pulled back to the thought of those girls—torn away from their families and friends to be thrown into this mess. She slumped against the bedpost. Her muscles throbbed. The dizzy spells had gotten worse. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the wood pole.
If she decided to do this—if she agreed to be Malachi’s bait in order to find the boss, and delay Sarian’s plan long enough for Zanya and the others to stop him once and for all—she’d have to be sure.
Sure she wouldn’t want to turn back.
Sure she would be willing to take the risk.
Sure that if something went terribly wrong, she’d still think it was worth it, as long as they caught the bastard in charge.
Her stomach twisted. Plotting a murder had never been on her bucket list, but she wouldn’t be the one to kill him. Her job was to help Malachi find him, and he’d take it from there. That was the deal. Besides, filth like the boss-man didn’t belong in the human gene pool, and she wouldn’t feel bad over him being wiped from the face of the earth. She knew exactly what those girls would deal with if they survived. None of her mom’s boyfriends were ever caught, and she was still paying the price.
She had to get out of her hotel room before someone came looking for her. With a sweater layered over her clothes, she pulled her curls into a messy bun, and then typed a text to Peter. If she was going to leave, he deserved a goodbye, no matter how short or vague.
Tara: I’m leaving for a while. Be back when Zanya gets home. Need some space.
She couldn’t tell him the truth. He would never understand why she needed to do this. She pressed send and took one last look at her hotel room. Both beds were perfectly made. She hadn’t slept in her room since her encounter with Mr. Green, and Zanya’s bed hadn’t been touched since she left.
She stared silently at where her best friend had last slept. Zanya still hadn’t called. All Tara could do was hope for the best and try to survive the next few days without the protection of Renato and Peter.
She wrapped her fingers around the straps of her backpack, inspecting herself in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall.
Life had changed so much in the last six months. She didn’t even recognize herself. Her gaze moved down to the clothes hanging over her body, with her belt tightened yet another notch.
“Tara?” Peter called from the hall before he knocked.
Her gaze flew to the door. Damn it. She should have waited to send the text until after she left.
“Tara.” He knocked again. “Are you in there?”
She bit her lip. His voice was so warm and familiar. She wanted more than anything to let him in, but if she did, things would get messy.
The green light on the door lock lit up and he pushed it ajar.
Tara slipped onto the balcony as quietly as she could. With her back pressed against the building, hidden behind a patio palm in a terracotta pot, she listened to Peter’s footsteps drag over the carpet. “Tara?” The door to the bathroom creaked open, followed by silence.
Tara tightened her grip around the guardrail as she listened to the plush down comforter exhaled under his weight when he sat on her bed. How did things come to this—her hiding from the guy she’d do anything for?
The footsteps returned and grew louder. She glanced at the balcony doors she’d left ajar and squeezed her eyes shut, silently cursing herself for not covering her trail.
He gently slid open the doors. The toes of his shoes appeared, barely visible over the threshold. She couldn’t see his face. Thank God for that. If she did, her self-discipline would likely cave. She had to show some restraint, for his sake. Anchoring her feet to the floor, she clamped her lips shut. A gust of cold wind swept a tear off her cheek.
Peter exhaled and moved back into the room. Moments later, was gone.
***
Her backpack was all that accompanied her on the restaurant patio while sitting acro
ss the street from the dark sedan. She watched Andrei tap his fingers on the leather steering wheel. More quickly than she anticipated, her efforts to catch his attention paid off.
Andrei stepped out of his car and crossed the street. Within moments, he pulled out the chair across from her. His muscular arms were perfectly matched by his baritone voice. “May I sit?”
She nodded.
He sat and laced his fingers on top o the table, tapping his thumbs together. “So, you are back to see me.”
She didn’t reply. There was no doubt he had heard of her encounter with Mr. Green’s thugs and that they’d failed to collect her that night. Any slip up could blow her cover.
He leaned forward, his eyes narrow. “You are not alone in Moscow.”
She was there to play a part, but his statement evoked more emotion than she anticipated. It was the opposite from the truth. “I am alone,” she whimpered. “Me and my boyfriend just broke up and my best friend is gone, doing God knows what—” She cradled her head in her hands. “And to top it all off, there’s some weird guy following me, and I got jumped in an alley after I went to that Club Grunge place in town.” She sniffled, and mumbled, “I guess I have bad luck no matter where I’m at.” The sorrow stirring deep inside her was raw and harsh. “I’m leaving.” She kicked at her backpack.
He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Really?”
“I can’t stand being here anymore.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Where will you go, my dear?” Suddenly his tone became soft and laden with concern. Clearly she wasn’t the only one who could put on a good show.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Don’t care. Just out of Moscow.”
“But Moscow can be a very fun place, if you know the right people.” He ran his fingers down his goatee. “Did you enjoy the taste?”
She sighed. “I lost it.”
“What a shame. That was very expensive.”
“Yeah. Sorry. It wasn’t my fault, though. I put it in my jacket pocket, and someone stole my coat.” She shivered, wearing a thin sweater that was zipped up as far as it would go; not much of a shield from the cold. She sat a moment longer before grabbing her backpack off the ground. “Well, I better get going. I need to catch the next bus out of here.”
He reached across the table. The mere presence of his hand in front of her caused her to freeze. “Before you go, maybe you would come to a party. I think I have one more sample for you.”
Tara paused, as if considering her options. She didn’t want to be too obvious and give away the fact this was exactly what she wanted—an invitation into the club, or any other place that would end in her being taken. But not by him. Not now. She needed Malachi to protect her when it all went down, and, for the moment, he was nowhere in sight.
Tara shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
He smiled and stood. “Good. I will see you tomorrow night. Come to the club. I will be looking for you.” As soon as Andrei returned to his car, Tara grabbed her bag and quietly left the restaurant.
***
She waited at the glass-paneled bus stop, perusing the bus schedule to kill time. There were no more stops for the night, and Malachi had exactly two minutes to show up before he was officially late.
Footsteps crunched over a thin layer of freshly fallen snow until he emerged from the darkness. As usual, he’d dressed in all black. Except this time he was suave in a button down dress shirt and a pair of black slacks, wearing a silver watch instead of rows of leather bracelets. He looked almost normal. Malachi ran his fingers through his thick, black hair as he approached. He was handsome, in a grungy sort of way.
She sniffled, her nose runny from the cold. The gloves barely kept the bite off her fingers, and she’d be lucky not to get the flu without something heavier on than a sweater. She inspected Malachi’s suit, incomplete without a jacket. “You must be freezing.”
“I’m fine.” He gestured with a nod of his head. “Let’s go.”
She followed him down the street to an old, abandoned building marked with graffiti. Tara tiptoed around shards of shattered glass scattered over the sidewalk while Malachi worked open the lock with a tool.
“What is this place?”
“I’m staying here for now.”
“Here?” She glanced around the dark and quiet neighborhood.
There was a click, and the lock popped. He pushed the front door open and held it for her. “Come on in.”
Tara’s teeth chattered. “I swear, if you end up being some kind of psycho—”
His eyebrow arched. “You’ll what?”
He was right. There would be nothing she could do if he turned out not to be who he said he was—not that he’d explained who he really was to begin with. But she needed to do this. She needed to help him, help those girls, and help herself. She huffed and stepped inside. “Fine.”
Three flights of stairs later, they entered what used to be a corner office with tiled floors, and rows of fluorescent lights that probably hadn’t been turned on for years. One wall was floor to ceiling windows, showcasing a vast view of Moscow. Tara gazed out at the city lights twinkling in the distance.
Malachi shut the door. “So what happened?”
“He invited me to the club tomorrow night.”
“There will be backup there. He doesn’t want you to get away this time.”
Her shoulders tensed. “I guess that makes sense.”
Malachi crouched beside a mattress lying on the floor and rummaged through a duffle bag.
Tara noticed the stained ceiling tiles, some of them sagging and split. “How long have you been staying here?”
The cold radiated through the tile floors and windows. It reminded her of the orphanage in the winter. A chill crawled up her back.
“Catch.” He tossed her a heavy sweater. “You’ll wake up sick if you don’t get something warm on.”
She held out the garment while she swayed from side to side. Was it her, or had the room started spinning? The cold wasn’t helping her body cope. She’d used up more energy trying to stay warm as shivers quaked her muscles.
Malachi slowly stood while examining her. “Are you okay?”
She slipped on the sweater and nodded.
Hell no, she wasn’t okay.
She squinted, and accidentally rocked back on her heels, flailing her arms to stay balanced. Malachi grabbed her. It wasn’t the gentlest embrace, but it grounded her.
“Thanks.”
“What was that all about?”
“I just…” She rubbed her face. Her fingers were ice cold to the touch. “I haven’t been sleeping great, that’s all.”
His eyes narrowed. “That’s not all that’s going on.”
She yanked her arm out of his grip. “It’s all you need to know,” she mumbled. He squared his stance while she tried her best not to feel bad over her pissy tone.
There was an emotion in his eyes she recognized—regret, or maybe shame. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was eating him from the inside out. “Why do you want to get back inside so bad?”
He didn’t answer right away, but eventually caved. “They took someone I care about.” His jaw tightened. “Those bastards need to get what’s coming to them, and I’m just the guy to do it. But I can’t do it alone, so…” He leaned against the wall. “Thanks for helping.”
She hugged herself, savoring the slow-growing warmth from the extra layer. “I didn’t think I had much of a choice.”
He grinned. “No, you didn’t. But still…”
Tara turned back to the sea of lights and watched as tiny cars drove over the winding roads, past illuminated signs, and through the shining city. “It’s funny where life takes you.” For some reason, she knew he’d understand. “My life went from miserable, to worse, to free, and now…” What she said next came out in a whisper. “I’m just lost.”
“Is that why you agreed to help me? Because you have nowhere to go?”
His words carried so
much truth—more than she could consider at the moment. “I guess,” she said in a low voice. “Among other things. Plus you need to follow me through the process to get to the boss, and if taking him down will stop what he’s doing to those women, I’m in.”
She watched his reflection in the glass. He cocked his head to the side. “What other things?”
“Nothing I feel like talking about.” She hung her head. “But I’m not useless. Even if I don’t have superpowers, I know I can do something to change the world. Something that’s worth remembering.”
Malachi chuckled. “You wish you had superpowers, huh?”
“Whatever you want to call it.” She glanced back at him. “You’re not exactly normal. At least you can do something to stop what’s going on. I wish I had that ability.”
His features sobered. “Be careful what you wish for.”
She rested her hand on the frosty window. The beautiful stars of frost melted under her touch. “If someone had been there,” she said quietly, “if I could have done something, they wouldn’t have hurt me.” She dropped her hand to her side, leaving a foggy imprint on the glass. She cleared her throat and glanced at Malachi. “I mean, you know. In general.”
“Right. In general.” He dragged his bag off the mattress. “You take the bed.”
Chapter Eight
The next evening, Tara pulled her curls into a messy bun and turned to Malachi. “You ready?”
He tucked a gun into the back of his pants and nodded.
She stared at the weapon. “Why are you bringing that?”
“Backup.”
Tara arched a brow. “You didn’t need any backup when Mr. Green’s guy stuck a knife in your chest.” Her question made him shift his weight. He still hadn’t offered an explanation for that incident, but he would probably shut down if she pushed too hard. At any hint of curiosity about his real identity, he clammed up or danced around the subject.
He crossed the room and opened the door. “Let’s go. I’ll fill you in on some things while we walk.”
Interlude (The Stone Legacy Series Book 2) Page 6