“I have no idea.” Cade threw himself into one of the chairs and looked down at his hands. “Scotch. Apparently.”
“I wouldn’t worry. It’s probably better than the scotch in that bar.”
Cade, having just downed one of the tiny bottles as fast as fluid dynamics would allow, nodded and opened another.
“So.” Talon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes held wariness and humor in equal measure. “You got the job.”
“I’m not happy about it,” Cade warned him.
Talon snorted.
“I could tell that from the way you opened the door. What is it?”
“It’s…” Cade sank his head down, rubbing over the back of his neck. The alcohol wasn’t kicking in fast enough. He could still see that woman’s face in his head. Every quirk of her mouth and curve of her body was still etched in his mind.
“Williams?” Talon’s voice was genuinely worried.
“Let’s just say I never thought I’d feel bad for an arms trafficker.” Cade looked up to meet Talon’s eyes.
“This should be good.” Talon settled back in his chair. “Tell me.”
“Well, I can see why he fell in love with her—why even a man like that would end up head over heels.”
“Oh?” For the first time, wariness appeared in Talon’s eyes.
“She’s the best actress I’ve ever seen. Which can’t be a coincidence, because she’s getting the best payout of any actress in history. You should see the penthouse, Talon. The chandelier is sapphires. The chandelier.”
“And Aryn?”
“Has this…” Cade felt his lip curl. “You see her, and you want to comfort her. But she’s cold all the way through. There’s nothing in her eyes when she smiles.”
“That’s…interesting.”
“What is?” Something in Talon’s voice had caught Cade’s ear. “What do you know?”
“I would have bet that Ellian loved her,” Talon said, frowning. “And he’s not the sort of man to fall for an empty smile.”
“That’s the thing. He’s not.” Cade felt his eyes narrow, as if he could peer into the past by squinting. “He’s not one to fall for anything. He is not a nice man.”
When he looked up, it was to find Talon’s face impressively expressionless.
“What do you know?” Cade was instantly on alert.
“He’s an arms trafficker, Williams, what do you think I know?”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Cade said softly, putting a faint threat into each word.
But Talon had been the one who taught him that trick, and his eyes only flashed with appreciation, not fear.
“What I can tell you is that this job will be easy. No one’s after him.”
“That’s the thing.” Cade leaned forward urgently. “Someone should be. In his line of work? Didn’t you think the lack of problems was…strange?”
“Honestly? No. The number of people operating in this sector is small, and they’re careful not to get on one another’s turf. Ellian follows their rules to a T. Unless he pisses off a client, I’d say he’s fine—and he’s too careful to do that.”
Cade sat back, frowning.
“Williams. What is it?”
“He doesn’t see it. He has people who tell him to his face that he’s being a fool over her, and he doesn’t see it.”
“And who does it hurt?” Talon asked practically. He raised his eyebrows at Cade. “To hear you tell it, she’s happy with the money, and he’s happy to have her. What’s the problem?”
“She’s…” Cade turned away. “It’s nothing.”
“Williams…”
“I hate her.”
“You just met her today.” Talon snorted. “What did she do, kill a kitten while you were there?”
“There’s no trusting her! She’s hiding—well, she could be hiding anything. For all we know, she’s a drug dealer. Slave trader.”
“Unlikely. Her only calls are to Ymir.”
“You tapped her calls?” Cade asked wearily.
“I wouldn’t have gotten you this job if I thought it was a bad deal.”
“Still, that’s an impressive amount of due diligence.” Cade let the disbelief come through clearly in his voice.
Talon sighed.
“Frankly? I was as worried as you were. Something here doesn’t add up.” His eyes flicked to Cade. “If you turn around and walk away now, you’d have my backing on it.”
But the man was clearly praying that Cade wouldn’t. And after three evasions, Cade knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Talon would never say why.
“You don’t have to worry.” He managed a tight smile. “I need the money. I’ve got to get ten thousand credits—”
“No, you don’t.”
“What?”
“I took care of that.”
“Ten thousand credits? And you just ‘took care of it’?”
“Well, it was slightly more complicated than that. Let’s just say certain people were reminded of favors they owe us.”
“I’m not a Dragon anymore!”
“So pay me back.” At last, Talon’s eyes flashed. “Whatever you need to do. But goddammit, Williams, I am not going to let you burn to death in acid snow. Your life is worth more than that.” He took a deep breath, and his voice softened slightly. “Can’t you accept that we might want to help you? There wasn’t one of us who didn’t understand why you walked after that mission.”
“Don’t talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.” The apology was genuine. “Williams, all I’m saying is that this is a fresh start. I don’t want to trap you. That’s why I got the debt taken care of. If you want to walk away now, you can.”
It was kind—kind enough to bring a lump to Cade’s throat. He looked away.
“I can’t.” His voice was soft. He took in the velvet blue night, the deep hue of the sky highlighting the warm interior of the room. He hated New Arizona with a passion—pretty to look at, deadly if you weren’t careful to insulate yourself from it. “Ellian pointed out that she doesn’t deserve to die for what he is. And he’s right.” Talon said nothing at all to that, and Cade felt his eyes narrow as he looked back. “What?”
“You just said you hate her. That she could be up to anything.”
“But she’s not! She just wants money; that’s what this is. And if someone did come after her for his work, you know what would happen to her. He’s right to worry.”
“She’s making her own choices,” Talon reminded him.
“She doesn’t know,” Cade said softly. “He said she doesn’t know what he does for a living.”
Talon whistled through his teeth.
“Now, there’s something I hadn’t considered. Given…”
“Given what?”
“Nothing. Look. Stay if you want. Keep your eyes open. But whatever the hell you do, Williams, keep hating that woman.”
“What?” Cade had tipped his head back and closed his eyes; now he looked up suddenly. His head spun slightly, the alcohol burning in his blood. “Why?”
“First, remember that I wouldn’t have offered you this unless I thought you were right for it. I wouldn’t have recommended almost anyone else, actually. You’re right that a woman like that is trouble, whether she means to be or not.”
It was Cade’s turn to snort.
“Just hear me out.” Talon’s voice was soft, and his eyes were worried. “A woman who can ensnare someone like Ellian Pallas has something special. And Cade, it’s true that Ellian plays by the rules in his line of business—but one of those rules is that when someone takes what’s yours…you make them pay. Publicly. Painfully. So it’s good that you don’t like her. Ellian’s a vengeful bastard.”
“Noted.” Cade lifted one of the bottles in his direction. Warmth suffused him. He even felt a certain humor about his hatred for Aryn. “I don’t like the bitch. ‘S good. World is full of beautiful women.”
Talon stood, his mouth twitching.
“Indeed. I have to go. You stay here and amuse yourself. But not too much—the tailor will be back in the morning, and I need you to be able to stand upright.”
“Roger.” Cade picked up another bottle and looked up at him. “Why in hell are you dressed like that?”
“The Dragons are going to a party.”
“Were you invited to this party?”
“Yes.”
“By the host?”
Talon only smiled, and let himself out of the room, leaving Cade to contemplate the bottle in his hand. It was tequila; probably not a good idea. In any case, the drink had already stolen the edge from his dislike of Aryn Beranek. He raised the still-closed bottle in a mock toast.
Surely he could appreciate her gamesmanship. There could be no harm in that.
Chapter 8
Aryn sat very still, staring down to where she clenched her hands in her lap. Uncurling them would reveal pretty half-moon crescents of white on her skin, a common sight lately. The past two days had been a misery of pacing and fruitless efforts to divert her attention.
Samara had not been in contact. Not even a message. Aryn wavered between the desire to move, to be anywhere but here, spending hours in the pool or on the mats of the gym, and the fear of missing a message from Samara. She had resorted at last to leaving the room in the hopes that somehow Samara would be more likely to call if she did.
It never worked.
“Ma’am?” The servant’s soft voice interrupted the whirl of her thoughts.
Aryn closed her eyes briefly.
“Yes, Emala?” She smiled as she turned.
“The stylists are here.” The maid gestured down to the entryway. “For the charity event tonight. Should I tell them to come up?”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
“Ma’am…are you well?” The maid looked genuinely worried.
“Yes, thank you.” Aryn smiled at her. The words were automatic, borne of long practice.
“Yes, ma’am.” Emala smiled but did not look convinced. “I’ll be back.”
Aryn paced to the windows and looked out, studying—for a moment—the faint reflection of her face outlined against the glittering skyscrapers of New Arizona’s financial district. She shouldn’t be here. They needed her at home.
And she had done everything she could. As the stylists walked into the room behind her, Aryn shoved away her fear, her resentment, her swallowed-down words. She had done all she could. Why could she not let it go?
Because all she could do was not enough. But that thought would drive her mad.
She went to the bed, watching them lay out the gowns for her to look at. She kept back the scream that she did not care at all, that none of this mattered. She could not say such a thing to strangers. So she stood still while she chose, and the stylists fluttered around her, rubbing color into her cheeks and outlining her lips.
She had just chosen a gown of deep, glittering blue—her favorite color—from the assortment when a suited man opened the door to her dressing room and strode inside. Aryn was on her feet in a moment, heart pounding, a line of makeup jagged across her cheek from where she’d disturbed the stylist. For a moment, she saw only height and muscle, and she knew that Ellian had been right to want a bodyguard for her. She was going to die.
When she saw who it was, she let out a breath and raised her chin.
“Mr. Williams.” Her heart was still skittering with fear, and she wiped at her cheek. She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was in a nightgown and a short robe, one eye perfectly made up and the other bare of any adornment. It didn’t help, of course, that his eyes were roaming over her as if he would not only examine every line and muscle, but also peer into her head and see her secrets as well.
“Ms. Beranek.” He ducked his head at her.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m your bodyguard.” Something had flashed in his eyes at the question.
“No. Why are you here? In my dressing room?” Out of the corner of her eye, Aryn saw the stylist trying desperately to melt into the wall and failing.
It took everything she had to stand her ground as the man stepped forward, his grey-green eyes boring into hers. Half of her wanted to run, flee straight back into the depths of the dressing room—though what good that would do, she did not know. There was no accounting for instinct. The other half of her, for some reason, wanted to step closer. She had, at the very least, the good sense to know that neither option would be good. She raised her chin again.
“Well?” she managed.
“I’m your bodyguard,” he repeated. Each word was carefully enunciated. He might have been one of Ellian’s business partners, for all that he behaved like a servant.
“Do you think I need saving? Did you think my stylist was going to assassinate me?” The stylist gave a strangled sort of noise, and Aryn shot her an annoyed look. “Oh, for God’s sake, he’s not going to kill you.”
A muffled snort caught her ear, but when she looked back, the man’s face was straight once more.
“Ms. Beranek, are you aware of what a bodyguard does?”
“Well aware.”
“Then you are aware that I will need to be at your side until I can determine where you might be safe.”
“I’m in my own house!”
“As you often are, I understand. Almost always, no? And yet your husband hired me to be with you all day, every day.”
The thought was thrilling.
Terrifying. She meant terrifying. Her nervous system was just confused.
“Well, then.” She smiled as graciously as she could. “Welcome to my dressing room.”
“Thank you.” She thought she saw amusement in his eyes, but it was gone a moment later.
“Yasmin, you may continue.” Aryn sat back down.
It took at least five minutes for the woman to calm down, during which she managed to smear Aryn’s eyeliner twice. Aryn sat still, her posture belying the fact that her pulse still had not stopped beating double time. Every time she caught a glimpse of the man’s shape in the mirror, her stomach twisted.
As she was selecting jewelry, she noticed that he was beginning to fidget, look away and then back.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Williams?”
Whatever retort he wanted to give, he swallowed it, only nodding. Still, when Aryn sent the stylist away, he was visibly relieved.
“Thank you for explaining that I wouldn’t kill her.” His voice was expressionless.
She shot him a look, but there was no way to gauge if he had been joking.
“She wouldn’t be worried about you if you didn’t loom, you know,” she said simply. She waited, and when he said nothing, she wrapped her robe a little tighter and tried to find something else to talk about. “Today, I’ll be going to a charity lunch at—”
“I know. Ellian gave me your schedule.”
“I see.” Aryn swallowed, looked down.
“That’s why I came early.” When she looked up, it was to see him studying her. “We have things to go over before we leave.”
“Things like what?”
“Some basic self-defense moves, but more signals. Ways for me to know if you’re in trouble without alerting people nearby.”
“Why would I need to do that?”
He blinked at her. Then, apparently realizing she was sincere, he chose his words carefully.
“Many people who are abducted are warned not to alert anyone.”
“Why would they—”
“Because they’re being abducted at gunpoint, and they do not want to be shot.”
Her eyes went wide.
“If that happens,” he said quickly, “you will have ways to alert me and mark your path so that I can find you.”
She could not think of anything to say.
“Very well,” he said in a moment. “The first thing I’m going to teach you is a specific way to clear your throat.” He demonstrated. “It echoes against the back of the
throat this way.” He demonstrated again. “You try.”
She cleared her throat once, twice. She was feeling foolish. On the third try, she did it passably.
“Good. Again.” He paused to listen. “Again. Again.”
“What is this for?”
“Clearing the throat is a common panic response. Unlike a whistle, for instance, it does not seem to be communication.”
“And if we’re out in public somewhere, with all the noise—you would hear this?”
“Yes,” he said, so assuredly that she found she believed him. “It’s…how I was trained to communicate.” He seemed about to say something else, but evidently thought better of it.
“I forgot you were a Dragon.” She swallowed and looked away. She had begun to relax in his presence, a slow shift she had not even noticed until the comfort was abruptly gone again.
“Why do you say that?” His voice was suddenly alert.
“No reason.” Her voice was flat.
She had thought a dozen times of going to Ellian and pleading her case, asking him not to use a Dragon—but she knew he would tell her that she was being foolish. Maybe he didn’t know the truth about them, she realized. And she would have no way to convince him of what she’d seen on Ymir, of the elite soldiers in red and black picking off her friends as Samara dragged her away. Aryn had never made much of a soldier, but even those with skill had stood no chance against the Warlord’s pet Dragons. That was when she realized that no one was coming to save them on Ymir. Even the Alliance was in bed with the Warlord.
Ellian would tell her that those weren’t Dragons, but Aryn had seen the glints at boots and ears, even the faint tell-tail glimmer in the face paint. A Dragon always wore red, everyone knew that.
Had this man been there? She turned away.
“Ms. Beranek.”
“What’s the next thing you wanted to show me?” she asked, her voice as neutral as she could make it.
“This.”
She jumped when he took her hand. He selected the middle finger of her right hand and drew her back close to him. His hand was rough on hers, the heat of his body radiating in the air. He showed her an ink capsule, and pressed it under the fingernail, giving an involuntary empathetic wince when she gasped at the prick of pain.
Dragon's Honor (The Dragon Corps Series Book 1) Page 5