by Jamie Craig
He narrowed his eyes. “Then show me your mark.”
Well, shit. Nathan and Olivia never mentioned any mark, did they? Maybe they had. She tried to pay attention, but sometimes Nathan wore his tight black jeans. Or his tight blue jeans. Then she had a hard time following conversations.
“And we were getting on so good too.” She whipped the gun out, her arm straight, her aim straighter. “You should’ve been stupid. This would’ve been easier for both of us.” Though he jerked at the sight of the gun, he didn’t otherwise move, forcing her to circle to the side. “But first you and me are going to have a little talk.”
His lip curled into a sneer. “What do you think I have to say to you?”
“Where are the girls?”
“You’re the only one to show up tonight.”
“I wasn’t talking about tonight. Are they here?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Where are we?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not saying.”
Remy pulled the trigger, aiming for the floor in front of his toes. “Oops. I think I missed the floor and hit your toe instead.”
He howled in response, blood erupting from the singed hole in his shoe. Remy watched him hop around on one foot for a minute, rolling her eyes again when she realized he was actually crying.
“Come on. It’s just a flesh wound.”
“You shot off my fucking toe!”
“Yeah, well, tell me what I want to know or I’ll shoot off another.”
“No, don’t fucking shoot me again. It’s 2000.”
“AD?”
“Yes.”
“Then where the hell are we?”
The big man opened his mouth to answer, but a new arrival cut him off. “Cruz! What the fuck’s going on?”
The shout from the hall was all it took for both of them to move. Remy squeezed the trigger at the same time Cruz dove forward, surprisingly nimble despite his bullet wound and size. Her bullet went wide, clipping his shoulder. He snarled, stepping back in surprise, but the fresh pain didn’t stop him for very long.
The newcomer didn’t wait for introductions. He lunged for her, knocking the weapon out of her grip as they crashed to the floor. He wasn’t as large as his partner, but he was still heavy enough to crush her and knock the wind from her chest when he landed on her ribs. The searing pain obliterated all else for the seconds he needed to disarm her.
“Where’d she come from? Fuck, stop flopping around like a stuck pig and tell me what’s going on.”
“Silver Maiden.”
The arms holding her loosened. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to get her elbow out from where it was pinned beneath her body. He caught her elbow, rolling to place himself in a more secure position. Her arms were locked down.
“Why the fuck’s she shooting at you?”
“She asked about the girls.”
“What does she know about the girls?”
“Nothing. I didn’t tell her shit.”
He wrapped her hair around his wrist and pulled it sharply, forcing her head back. She looked back at him with wide eyes, everything from the shape of her mouth to her body language screaming victim.
“What do you want with the girls?”
She had very little wiggle room. The wrong angle, and they’d figure out what she was doing. Her fingers stretched, unseen beneath her coat until the supple edge of her waistband dug beneath her blunt nails. Another inch. That was all she needed. She kept the rest of her body still, as if she couldn’t move at all.
“Shoot her,” Cruz bit out. “Gabriel wouldn’t have sent a girl packing.”
“Shoot her before we get to have a little fun with her? Do I look stupid?”
“A little.” Remy jammed her knee up, hitting off-center on his groin. At the same time, she yanked her arm free, the blade she’d had tucked in the back of her belt firmly in her grip. She buried it in the fleshy part of his biceps, then rolled out of the way when he doubled into himself against the pain.
“Bitch!”
Cruz scrabbled to catch her, but Remy was already running for the door. Given his injury and blood loss, it wasn’t hard to beat him. She burst out of the temple only to find herself in a long, dark corridor made of regular bricks. A stripe of light beckoned her and she bolted through the narrow passage until she reached a staircase. She wanted to run until there were miles between her and this place, but she had to take it slow. Had to be smart. Especially since she’d left her gun behind.
Nathan wouldn’t have made the mistake.
No, she wasn’t going to think about him. Priorities. Keep them straight. Once she was free, she’d wallow, but until then, she had to focus on escaping with everything attached.
The light spilled in from under a door. She slammed into it, hoping the handle would give beneath her weight. Fortunately, it opened and she burst into the room running.
From there, it was a clear shot to the exit. All she had to do was put her head down and run like Kirsten Henryk the Hell Bitch was on her heels. Luck held out and she didn’t break her stride as she sprinted from the building, her hair flying behind her. The boots she’d chosen weren’t the best for running, but they were good for hiding weapons and they had steel toes. They normally weighed her down, but Remy barely felt them. She didn’t feel her heart pounding in her chest or the stitch in her side after three blocks. Adrenaline poured through her, blocking out everything except flight. She ran better than she fought, and she was a hell of a fighter. Cruz never had a hope of catching up, especially with a new hole in his foot. But the other guy might be smart enough to get in his car, so she didn’t stop, didn’t slow, didn’t apply the brakes when she took random lefts and rights. She doubled back more than once, lost track of the blocks she put between herself and what seemed to be a warehouse, and kept running.
When her lungs burned and her head throbbed from lack of oxygen, she brought herself up to a quick, short-stepped stride. Another fifteen minutes passed before she collapsed on a bus bench, black dots dancing in front of her eyes.
A white and orange bus stopped, hissing as the doors pulled open. She didn’t know where the bus went, but she didn’t care. It was the familiar MTA colors. She was still in L.A. It was almost enough to make her laugh. Gabriel could choose any time or place in history, and he picked L.A.? It made more sense to just go back to the jungle, but Gabriel probably wouldn’t be happy in a hut somewhere. He was going to all of this trouble to raise the Silver Maiden’s power, he probably had a good reason. Like taking over Los Angeles.
The bus was half-full and she attracted more than a few stares as she limped her way down the aisle after putting a few bills in the box. The seats were stained, filthy, and smelled like piss, but she was so grateful for the familiarity of it all that it didn’t matter. Remy collapsed into the closest one, hunching against the window with a protective arm across her stomach. She needed to get herself cleaned up and bandaged, but she only had a few coins, no weapons, and a crazy story she couldn’t possibly tell the cops.
When this happened to her the first time, she’d been lucky. She’d found Nathan. He hadn’t recognized her when they met, so did that mean she couldn’t find him now? What other choice did she have? Nathan was, as always, her best hope.
Ten years ago, he’d been a cop. He and Isaac had been partners in the LAPD. In 2000, neither one of them had even heard of the woman who would destroy Nathan’s career, setting him down a path that would eventually collide with Remy’s.
If anybody could help her, he could.
All she had to do was find him.
Chapter Two
There was an unopened bottle of Siroc vodka on the table in front of the couch. Nathan didn’t remember buying it, but he must have because it wasn’t there before. He remembered walking to the market on the corner for food, so he must have picked it up then on an unconscious impulse. It had once been the most natural thing to do, as thoughtless as snagging a
bottle of water from the cooler near the register. But that had been years ago. He wasn’t that person anymore. He knew it. But now it was hard to believe anything had changed and the preceding year hadn’t been a dream, an illusion, a mad break with reality. Hard to believe a bottle of vodka, the bottle he had no memory of even bringing into the apartment, wasn’t the actual center of his world.
It had only been four days. Or five. Maybe it was three? Or ten? He’d forgotten how to keep track. With Remy gone, there was nothing except a timeless void. Every second without her felt like a day, those days tumbling together, interrupted only by Olivia’s inexplicable appearances. He never asked for her or indicated he wanted company, but she breezed into his apartment at odd intervals to ask questions he couldn’t answer. He never told her to leave. The truth was, he liked seeing her. He never asked about Isaac. She didn’t comment on the Siroc.
He was one of the few hard drinkers he knew who didn’t like vodka. The higher end brands tasted fine with a mixer, but that didn’t suit him. When it was time to drink, he did away with the polite fiction of mixers. He didn’t drink because he wanted a beverage or to savor the nuances of taste and personality of each brand. It wasn’t a social event where the sting needed to be cloaked by something sweetly inoffensive. He favored whiskey or tequila, slamming down his throat in shot after dizzying shot, until his senses were so dull he wouldn’t even be able to feel a knife in the throat.
He touched the scar below his chin, letting his fingers linger on the puckered skin. It didn’t hurt anymore, of course. Not even the memory stung. But that was a two-way street, and there had been no satisfaction either, when he finally plugged the motherfucker responsible. The first shot had killed Parker, but Nathan kept shooting until he heard nothing but the click of an empty chamber. He’d done it for Isaac, to save him, to repay him, to thank him. And within moments of Nathan squaring the debt between them, Isaac betrayed him. He belonged with Remy, wherever that might be. Isaac knew that, so why had he stopped him? He’d destroyed Nathan’s world with a single gesture. The gesture came from a place of loyalty, even love, but he couldn’t forgive it.
Now there was the problem of the vodka. If he focused on the label and its possible origins, he wouldn’t have to think about Remy. In the earliest days of their relationship, when he hadn’t even understood where she came from or why he needed her with a ferocity that overwhelmed all of his good sense, he imagined her disappearing. He’d poked at the thought with a timid resignation, unable to tolerate more than a few seconds of the what if scenario. Remy leaving him, popping out of his life as quickly as she arrived, had always been a possibility. One he couldn’t deal with, and ultimately, one he’d been completely unprepared for.
Falling in love with Remy hadn’t been a choice and it hadn’t been risk free. All he could do was hold on tight and jump into their relationship with both feet. Even if she hadn’t been from seventy-five years into the future, loving her wouldn’t have been a safe proposition. She stunned him every single day, and most of the time, it had nothing to do with the impossibility of her. How a woman raised in such a rough life could be so amazingly warm and open, he didn’t understand. She should have been all hard edges and sharp corners, traumatized by a wretched childhood, hunted, hated, and finally thrust back into a strange world she couldn’t explain.
Where was she on that Christmas Eve? Or was it even Christmas Eve there? Then. Was she alone? Was she safe? Was she waiting for him? He would do anything for her, take any risk, travel to any point in time or space. He would claw his own heart from his chest if it would keep her safe. But an entire continent separated what he would do for her from what he could do. He couldn’t travel through time. He had one shot to find her again, to follow her, and simply be with her, and that one chance had been utterly destroyed. By his best friend. By his brother.
“He just wants to say hi, Nathan. It’s Christmas.” It was Olivia’s third attempt to get his attention. She sounded annoyed now.
He looked up from the vodka to meet her steady gaze. “I don’t want to see him.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“It is.”
She said it like she was biting down on the words. “He’s your best friend.”
“My best friend wouldn’t have done that.” What would it take to make her understand and go away? If he explained a hundred times, would that make a difference? A thousand?
Olivia sighed. “Save your life?”
“There’s no reason to think it would have killed me.”
“There’s no reason to think it would have sent you to Remy, either.”
“But there was a chance of finding her.” The vodka jumped as he slammed his fist against the table. “A better chance than I have now. A better chance than I’ll ever have again.”
“I know it feels…hopeless right now.”
“Hopeless?” He knew hopelessness. He felt it before, mute and pathetic, drunk and guilty. He used to watch Isaac through the haze of his latest hangover, preparing breakfast so Nathan would have something to eat after he stopped puking. He’d dress for work like everything was fine and he wasn’t struggling every minute to keep Nathan from flying apart. They’d both been hopeless, finding the strength to prop each other up when nothing else was left.
He wished things were hopeless. Right now it was much, much worse than that. Something far darker. There was no coming back from this. Once he gave in to it, he wouldn’t surface again.
She must have taken his incredulous echo as agreement. “Right, but it’s not the end of the world. We have Gabriel in custody. We have the coins. That means we can find her again.”
He appreciated what she was trying to do. That was the worst part. He appreciated her effort and he liked her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be honest. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does. There’s got to be something we can do.”
“Gabriel will never, ever talk.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The one man who could help them was the one man who never would. Just out of spite. Even in defeat, Gabriel still had the upper hand. As long as he still had power over them, he would never give it up. “Not unless you promise to drop all the charges, and well, you can’t. The DA would never let you, and neither would Isaac.”
“What about you?”
“I’d break him out of jail myself if I thought it would bring her home.” He reached for the bottle, cradling it in his palms for the first time since it materialized on the table. The glass was cool and smooth, with no paper label to disrupt the texture. It felt so familiar in his grasp he must have been the one responsible for buying it. Maybe that morning. He must have had a plan. It must be the security blanket meant to get him through Christmas. “She’s gone, Olivia.”
“I know. But not for good. Remy is tough, and she’s already been through this once. Wherever she is now, she’s probably looking for a way back.”
“I should be with her.”
“Yeah, but you’re not. And I’m sorry you think Isaac betrayed you, but he only did what he thought was best.”
“It wasn’t his decision.”
“What else could he have done, Nathan? Would you let Isaac jump to his possible death? He did it because he loves you.”
Nathan didn’t need to hear this from her. He trusted her because Isaac trusted her. But she didn’t know them. She didn’t know Isaac, she didn’t know the years behind them, the unspoken things between them. He never questioned Isaac’s love or nobility. He never doubted Isaac’s motives. He understood. Isaac, on the other hand, had failed him. What value did his life have if Remy’s was lost? What right did Isaac have to stop him from making his own choices?
“I would rather be dead than here without her.”
“You don’t mean that, Nathan.”
He did. “Why don’t you ask Isaac if I mean it? I’m sure he could tell you.”
“Sure, I’ll just tell him you wish you were dead. Merry Christmas.”
Nathan wasn’t going to be shamed into letting go of his justified anger. The timing was hard. Christmas was the only time of year they both acknowledged what they always knew. They were family and they celebrated the holiday as family. It hurt Nathan to be apart on Christmas Eve and he didn’t even like Isaac at the moment. “Don’t tell him anything.”
She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Are you going to drink that?”
He appreciated that she didn’t sound accusatory or angry. “I guess that’s probably why I bought it.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Do you think it’s really any of your business? Because I don’t.”
Her patient mask fell away and the expected coldness crept into her voice. She wasn’t on his side. “Isaac told me you’re an alcoholic.”
He never used that word to describe himself, and he thought they had a gentlemen’s agreement not to utter it. When necessary, they used coy allusions—he was depressed, he was going through a rough patch, he binged on the weekends. But never the truth. Hearing the word come from Olivia was startling. Knowing Isaac had used it, had actually described Nathan as an alcoholic, hurt more than it should have.
“I had a drinking problem…”
“You’re an alcoholic,” she said flatly. “And now you want to climb back into the bottle because it’s safe.”
Safe. Like anything around there was remotely safe. Getting drunk wasn’t safe, but neither was being sober. “Why shouldn’t I? What have I got here?”
“You’ve got a chance to get Remy back, idiot. If you can keep your head.”
“How?” The inquiry was phrased much more politely than he felt.
“I told you. We have the coins and Gabriel…”
“The coins are worthless. We don’t know how they work, or why they work. We don’t know any fucking thing about them. I can’t even touch one of them. And you…” Nathan looked up sharply. “Have you handled the coin since Remy disappeared?”
She took a deep breath. “No. It’s in a safe place, but I…I couldn’t. Not yet.”