Then my stomach rumbled again, and I thought about that other sandwich Coral had said was in the fridge. I closed my eyes, hating myself for what I was about to do, but I was still so hungry. So I stepped over Coral’s body and went into the kitchen, trying to come up with some sort of plan about what to do next. When I was done eating, I would take whatever food was left, then go through her clothes to see if there was a warm coat I could swipe to stave off the chill of the nights, if not the growing coldness in my own heart . . .
The rocking woke me.
It was a gentle, steady, soothing motion, almost like I was in a swing someone was pushing, even though I was lying in a bed. A loud splash sounded, before giving way to a regular, rhythmic slosh-slosh-slosh of water, and I felt myself slipping back down into the darkness . . .
Wait a second. Why was there a splash? Why was there water here? Wasn’t I at Jo-Jo’s house? And if not . . . where was I?
I cracked my eyes open, but instead of an airy fresco of a cloud-covered sky like I would have seen at Jo-Jo’s, the ceiling was low and made out of golden wood. Worry curled in my stomach, and I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around.
I was in some sort of guest bedroom. Well, really, it was more like a spacious stateroom. The four-poster bed I was lying on took up one corner of the area, the pale blue silk sheets that covered my body providing a nice contrast with the glossy, golden wood of the frame. The other furniture was made of the same wood, all of it trimmed with polished brass accents. A living-room suite took up the front half of the stateroom, complete with two pale blue couches that faced each other and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall between them. A door off to my left led into a large bathroom decked out in blue tile.
It was definitely a room I’d never been in before, and my head snapped over to the windows, as I wondered what I might see through them. But the glass panes were round instead of square, and the white lace curtains had been drawn back, revealing an unexpected sight: the sun setting over the river.
Understanding flashed through me. I wasn’t in any sort of house. Oh, no.
I was on a boat.
23
Instead of bolting out of bed, I wedged a couple of pillows between my back and the frame and propped myself up against the soft cushions. The sight of the strange room didn’t bother me anymore, because I had a sneaking suspicion of exactly where I was.
On board the Delta Queen, Phillip Kincaid’s riverboat casino.
I wondered why Owen and the others would bring me here, though, instead of taking me to Jo-Jo’s salon. Maybe they figured that this would be safer, since Jo-Jo’s would be one place Benson and his men would be sure to look for me.
I sat up a little higher on the bed. The motion made a dull ache roar to life in the back of my skull, one that quickly intensified and spread through the rest of my body. I was still wearing the white hospital gown Benson’s men had put on me. Cuts and scrapes dotted my hands and arms, and the side of my face throbbed from where I’d fallen onto the stone balcony. But worst of all was my busted ankle, which sent out shooting stabs of pain with every beat of my heart.
Jo-Jo must have been waiting for the final dregs of the Burn pill to leave my system so she could heal me. No doubt, Owen had told her about the elemental magic in the drug, and Jo-Jo wouldn’t have wanted to risk using her Air power on me and making things worse. But the aches and pains that flooded my body were a small price to pay for escaping from Benson. So I would be patient and endure the discomfort while I waited for Jo-Jo to come finish the job.
And when that was done and I was well, I would get on with the business of killing Beauregard Benson.
I should have started planning the hit that very first night after he’d murdered Troy and Xavier had told me how obsessed Bria was with bringing Benson down. I should have laid his throat open with my knives the second I saw him at Northern Aggression. I should have found a way to kill him on the bridge when his men were shooting at Bria and Catalina. But I’d been tired and troubled and too damn slow, and Benson had captured and almost killed me as a result, all in the name of his fucking drug empire and his so-called science experiments.
He wasn’t going to get away with that. He wasn’t going to get away with any of it.
Not one damn thing.
The stateroom door creaked open, and Bria appeared, as if she’d been standing right outside, waiting for me to wake up. Maybe she had been.
Some of the tension in her face eased when she realized that I was awake, and she walked over and sat down in a chair next to the bed. She was still wearing the same black clothes she had on when she’d rescued me, although she’d taken off the vest, and the holster attached to her belt was empty. She clasped her hands together, staring at her interlaced fingers instead of at me. Specks of blood marred the pale skin of her hands. More of it had spattered up onto her face and neck, with a few drops staining her primrose rune an ugly crimson.
In a weird way, she looked just like me after a long day of killing. Then again, that’s what this had been for Bria, first at the bridge firing at Benson’s men, then at the mansion shooting everyone who came close to us so she could rescue me. It was an odd bit of role reversal, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that—or how it would affect Bria.
“Catalina?” I asked.
“She’s fine,” Bria said. “She’s here on the boat too. We were able to go through that courtyard and those buildings and meet up with Xavier, just like you said. He drove us over here. Xavier thought that the riverboat would be a good place to hide out. There’s room enough for all of us, and it will be an easy position to defend if Benson decides to attack.”
I nodded. That was smart of Xavier, and he was right. This way, we’d at least be able to see Benson and his men coming. And they would be coming. The vamp still needed Catalina dead, and he’d want revenge on Bria for rescuing me.
As for me, no doubt, the vampire kingpin would want to drag me back down to his lab to conduct some more experiments on me, since I was such a fascinating test subject. I couldn’t hold back the cold shiver of fear that swept through me. I’d been tortured before, more times than I cared to remember, actually, by some seriously nasty folks. But being strapped down to that chair in Benson’s lab, knowing that he could do anything to me that he wanted, knowing how absolutely helpless I was to stop him . . . it would take me a while to get over that.
If I ever truly could.
Bria drew in a breath, squared her shoulders, and finally looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “For all of this. I should have done things differently. I should have let you know what was going on from the very beginning, when Benson killed Max. I shouldn’t have pushed Catalina to testify, and I shouldn’t have said all those terrible things to you and everyone else at Northern Aggression.”
“You did what you thought was right.”
Guilt pinched her lips. “But you’re my sister, and you know just as much about this world as I do. More, really, because you’ve lived in it longer. I should have listened to you. I wanted to listen to you. I hope you know that. It’s just that every time I thought about Max and what Benson did to him . . .” She trailed off. “I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let him get away with it. Not when I’d promised Max that I would protect him, that I’d keep him safe, and he died because I didn’t keep my word.”
“Max didn’t die because you didn’t keep your word. He died because he got in too deep.”
She shook her head, her blond hair flying around her shoulders. “That’s not how it feels to me.”
I didn’t say anything. Nothing I could say would lessen her guilt. Not about this. Not now, maybe not ever.
She let out a bitter laugh. “And do you know what the worst part is? I almost did the exact same thing to Catalina. I told her that I could protect her too, and look what happened. Benson and his men almost killed us on that bridge. They would have killed us, if not for you.”
Bria stared
down at her hands again, which were clasped together so tightly that her fingers were white from the strain. The tension made the drops of blood on her skin stand out that much more. “And then I would have had an innocent girl’s blood on my hands, just like Max’s is already.”
I leaned over and took her hands in mine. “You’re a cop, Bria. You were just doing your job. You were trying to bring a bad guy to justice. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Her lips twisted into a grimace. “There is when you lose focus, when you lose control. And that’s exactly what I did with Benson. Xavier was right. I was so desperate to take Benson down that I lost track of everything else, and it has cost me so much. Roslyn was held hostage, and I pushed Finn away. Xavier and I are on shaky ground, Catalina is still in shock, and you . . .” Bria’s voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “I don’t even want to think about what Benson did to you.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I quipped. “At least the chair was comfortable.”
A laugh escaped from her lips before she could stop it. But the faint chuckle didn’t keep two tears from streaking down her face.
“I almost got you killed. I’ll never forgive myself for that, Gin. Or for the things I said to you at Northern Aggression. And I know that you won’t either.”
I remembered all the terrible thoughts I’d had about her while I was flying high on Burn. More guilt and shame rippled through me. Bria wasn’t the only one who’d never forgive herself. But as much as I hated to admit it, being force-fed that drug had given me a better understanding of my sister. She’d been hurt and helpless over Max’s murder, and she’d lost control and lashed out as a result—just like I had when I was tripping on Burn.
“Gin?” Bria asked.
I shook my head. “We had a fight. It’s what sisters do. It sucks, and we both hurt each other, but we’ll get through it—together. The important thing is not to let it linger, not to let it fester. If I were in your position and Benson had killed one of my informants, I would have reacted in the exact same way. Actually, I would have been worse. I probably would have marched over to his mansion, knocked on his front door, and buried my knife in his heart the second he said hello.”
Bria laughed again. “And that is exactly what makes you you. No matter what, you always protect the people you love. And I didn’t do that. Not today. Not for a long time now.”
More tears trickled down her cheeks. The salty drops slid off her chin and spattered onto her primrose rune, smearing the bloodstains on the silverstone.
I stared at her rune, the symbol for beauty. “You know, a wise old man once told me that everyone makes mistakes from time to time.”
“Fletcher?”
I nodded. “And he was right. You made some mistakes. We all have, by not listening to each other. But you’re lucky—we’re lucky—in that you still have a chance to fix them.”
She gave me a wry smile. “And how do I do that?”
“You find a way to take down Benson and keep Catalina safe. With some help from me, of course.”
Bria threaded her fingers through mine. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I squeezed her hand tightly. “And neither would I.”
24
Bria and I were still holding hands, enjoying the easy quiet between us, when another person opened the door and entered the stateroom—a dwarf wearing a string of pearls and a pink dress patterned with large white roses.
Jolene “Jo-Jo” Deveraux marched over to the bed, planted her hands on her hips, and stared at me with a critical gaze, her clear eyes almost devoid of color except for her black pupils. She clucked her tongue at my sorry state and shook her head, although the motion didn’t so much as ruffle a single one of her perfect, white-blond curls.
“Sorry I haven’t been in to see you before now, darling,” she said. “But I had to wait until that nasty drug was completely out of your system.”
“No worries. It only hurts when I breathe.”
Jo-Jo let out a hearty laugh, then went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Bria got up, and Jo-Jo came back out and took her seat next to the bed, scooting the chair even closer to me. The dwarf’s eyes began to glow a pale, milky white, as did the palm of her hand, as she brought her Air magic to bear. She leaned forward, and a series of invisible pins and needles began to stab their way up and down my body. Air elementals like Jo-Jo used oxygen and all the other natural gases in the air to clean out infected wounds, mend broken bones, and stitch up ripped skin.
Feeling myself being put back together again was never pleasant, especially since Jo-Jo’s Air magic was the opposite of my own Ice and Stone power. The dwarf using her magic on me in any way would never seem right, just as being around my power when I was actively using it would never sit well with her.
But what made it worse today was how much it reminded me of Benson.
The pins-and-needles sensation made me think of the phantom sandpaper I’d noticed when Benson murdered Troy and then again when he was reaching out, trying to feel my emotions in Northern Aggression and in his lab. Even though Jo-Jo would never use her magic like that, would never, ever hurt me, a low warning snarl rumbled out of my throat.
“Gin?” Bria asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said through gritted teeth, my fingers twisting in the silk sheets. “Do me a favor and distract me. Tell me about Silvio. How did he help you?”
“It was all his idea,” she said. “After Catalina and I made it to Xavier’s car, I didn’t want to leave you behind, but some vamps rolled up in an SUV, and Xavier had to floor it to get away from them. Xavier and I had just gotten to the riverboat with Catalina when Silvio texted me. I had no idea how he had my number, but he told me that Benson had captured you and that he had a plan to help you escape. I didn’t believe him, but Catalina told me that he was her uncle and that he was telling the truth. Silvio told me how to get past the guards to make it to that patio and said that he would be there waiting with you. He said that jumping off the bridge into a boat would be the quickest way to get you away from Benson, and he was right.”
She sighed. “I wish he would have come with us. Benson’s probably killed him by now.”
I had my doubts about that, but another uncomfortable wave of Jo-Jo’s magic sweeping through my body kept me from answering. It took the dwarf another five minutes before she leaned back and released her hold on her magic. The white glow faded from her hand and her eyes.
“There, darling,” Jo-Jo said. “Good as new.”
I flopped back against the pillows, panting for breath, sweat streaming down my face. But slowly, the memory of Jo-Jo’s magic faded away, and I moved my arms and legs. Just like she said, everything felt brand-new, including my previously shattered ankle.
I could have lain there and drifted off to sleep, but I forced myself to sit upright. “I need that bag, the one that was tied to my arm when you rescued me.”
Bria frowned, but she went over, grabbed the bag from where it had been sitting on a coffee table, and brought it over to me. I ripped through the plastic. My knives lay inside, along with my spider rune ring, but I was more concerned about what was in the very bottom of the bag: the black leather-bound book that Silvio had slipped inside.
I pulled the book out and started flipping through it. And I realized that it wasn’t a book so much as it was a ledger, one that chronicled Benson’s entire drug operation.
The first half of the ledger was gibberish, at least to me. Chemical compounds, formulas, and equations for Benson’s drug cocktails. I quickly flipped past those sections.
The back half of the book was much more interesting, featuring rows of columns, numbers, and, most important of all, names—names of everyone who bought drugs from or sold them to Benson. They were even ranked, in terms of how much money they made or cost the vampire.
I recognized many of the names, including some of the other underworld bosses like Lorelei Parker and Ron Donaldson. The ledger was practic
ally a who’s who of bad folks in Ashland. I flipped to the very back and the most recent entries. I scanned down the rows of names of Benson’s drug suppliers until I found the one I was looking for.
“What’s that?” Jo-Jo asked.
“Insurance.” I repeated what Silvio had said to me in the lab, and I finally realized why he’d given me the ledger. “Benson won’t kill Silvio. Not yet. By now, he will have realized that Silvio slipped me this. He’ll want to know what I plan to do with his little black book before he kills Silvio.”
I snapped the ledger shut, then looked at Bria. “What do you say we mount another rescue mission? You and me together this time.”
Her smile matched the one on my face.
• • •
We worked out the rough outlines of our plan, although Bria insisted that we wait until the morning to implement it. I didn’t want Silvio to be tortured like I had been, but it was already too late for that. I just had to hope that he could hold on until we could save him. Besides, I wanted to be at full strength when I faced Benson again, and my body still needed time to recover from all the trauma it had been through today.
My mind and heart too.
Jo-Jo and Bria left so I could relax, but I was too restless to drift off to sleep, so I threw back the covers, padded into the bathroom, and took a long, hot shower to wash the lemony stench of Benson’s lab off me, if not the memories from my mind.
Unfortunately, those would linger for a long, long time to come.
I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped back out into the stateroom to find Owen sprawled across one of the couches, staring at a muted football game on the TV. He straightened up and turned off the TV.
“Hey,” he said. “Jo-Jo sent me on in. I’ve been waiting out here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He’d been giving me some quiet time to myself, time to process all the horrible things that had happened and bury them deep down where no one would ever see them. My heart swelled with love for him. Owen was so good about giving me the space I needed. But I was tired of being hurt and heartsick and reliving the horrors that Benson had visited upon me. Right now, I wanted—I needed—to feel something good, something strong, something real and more powerful than anything Benson could ever do to me.
Poison Promise Page 23