I nodded absently, chewing on my lip where my piercing had been. It itched like crazy. It was already closing up.
Mari glanced around, then reached out to give my knee a squeeze. “We’ll find him, Kat. I promise.”
Chapter Eight
After my mom was killed, I went into a bit of a tailspin. It’s a little embarrassing, really, but I was devastated, naïve, and pissed off—and in combination, those three things created a monster. I became a rash, unstable creature driven by a single thing: vengeance. It was my air and water and food. It was the blood pumping through my veins and the dreams disturbing my sleep. It was my everything.
And then Dom came in and gave me focus. He taught me discipline and how to fight. He gave me the skills and tools I needed to make vengeance a reality.
And then there was Nik, helping me understand the enemy. Helping me plan. Driving me ever onward and cautioning me when I exhibited too much recklessness. Until, one day, he pushed a few too many buttons, and I snapped. I almost died that day. On Mari’s anti-At blade.
Maybe I’d still bear a closer resemblance to the Kat I used to be—the Kat who still had a mother and hopes for the future and a sparkle in her eye—if not for Dom and Nik and Mari. Maybe, but I also never would’ve avenged my mom. I didn’t regret leaving the girl I used to be behind one bit. My heart was cold, my memory of the taste of vengeance crisp and clear. It had been delicious. Until it soured. Until those the Senate had me hunting no longer bore any resemblance to those responsible for my mother’s death. Until it became bitter ash on my tongue.
But by then it was too late. By then, the girl I’d been was dead, a hard, empty shell left in her place.
Maybe that was why I felt such excitement about having seen Mari. She’d known me way back when. It was by Mari’s side that I’d spent sixteen years hunting down those even remotely responsible for my mother’s death. She’d seen the transformation. Hell, she’d been a part of the transformation. In a way, she reminded me of who I used to be. And I couldn’t ignore the sense of grief I felt when thinking of that sad, lost girl.
I pulled my phone from my coat pocket as soon as I was out of the elevator and called the shop, figuring Nik was still lurking around. AKA covering for me. I was right. Kimi answered, but she retrieved Nik as soon as I asked for him. Good thing, because I didn’t have his number, and I was going to explode if I didn’t share what had just happened with someone.
“Hey, Kat—”
“You’re never going to believe who I just saw,” I told him.
“Who?” he asked. “And where are you? It’s loud as fuck on your end.”
“Oh . . .” I glanced around me, taking in the hustle and bustle of business professionals sneaking in an early lunch. There were so many of them, I doubted there were many people left up in their offices. “I’m in a food court,” I told Nik. “Sorry. Hang on . . .” I weaved my way through the crowd of lunch-goers and made it to the glass doors to Fourth Avenue a good thirty seconds later.
I pushed through the rightmost door, only to be greeted by a blast of cold air and a crowd of people huddling on the covered stairs to stay out of the pouring rain. “Excuse me,” I mumbled to one woman.
She shifted an inch. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite that thin.
“Excuse me,” I repeated.
A few glances were cast my way, but nobody really put any effort into moving.
So I did what any reasonable person would do—I raised my voice and broke out the big-kid words. “Oh for fuck’s sake, move, people!”
I received shocked looks and grumbles from the crowd this time. But hey—they made a path that was just my size. What peaches.
I pulled up my hood and hunched my shoulders as I trudged up to the bus stop at the next block. I’d have taken my bike, but the outfit didn’t really work on a motorcycle, especially not if I wanted to keep it looking nice. Not that that mattered now. My stupid “nice” boots had shitty traction on the wet cement, and I longed for my heavy-treaded combat boots.
“Sorry,” I told Nik, again. I’d been holding the phone against my lapel when I’d shouted, but Nejeret ears were sensitive. “Anyway, I was at this open house thing at Ouroboros—that’s the pharmaceutical company that—”
“I know who they are, Kat; I’m not a moron. Why were you there?”
I stopped walking, pressed my lips together, and inhaled and exhaled deeply. There was no reason for him to get all snippy with me just because I wasn’t a slave to the idiot box like everybody else. “They’re connected to all this somehow,” I finally admitted.
Nik was quiet for a few seconds. “You knew they were connected to the disappearances and you went there anyway?”
My eyes bugged out. Sometimes he was a moron, whatever he said. “Why else would I go there?” I gave a derisive snort and continued up the hill. “It’s not like I need to drink from the fountain of youth.” Though a sip from the fountain of unyouth might do the trick. Especially if it would wrangle my pesky lingering teenage hormones. They could be a real bitch sometimes.
“Kat—”
“Mari was there,” I said, flinging out the one thing that might waylay him from laying into me for being reckless, then held my breath.
“What?”
“Yeah, she’s working for them. But really, she’s undercover for the Senate. Did you know?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “But then, I haven’t really been keeping up with things . . .”
“Right, well . . . that’s crazy, right?” I reached the street corner at the top of the hill. “She’s going to do some digging and see what she can find out about Dom. And—” I caught myself before I let it spill about the fishy shipment. I could check it out without him. No need to put anyone else in danger. Besides, I worked better on my own. Let’s just say I have trust issues. I don’t trust others not to do stupid shit and get themselves killed—like my mom—and I don’t trust myself not to stop them.
“And what?” Nik asked.
“And . . . it was good to see her.”
“Jesus, Kat.” Disappointment was a loud, clear bell tolling in his voice.
“What?” I stopped some ways from the crowded bus stop and ducked under the ledge of another skyscraper.
“What the fuck were you thinking, going there alone—and without even letting me know?”
I reared back as though he’d slapped me. “Excuse me?” Since when was he my self-appointed keeper?
“They’re the ones taking people—taking us—and you walked right into their house. They caught Dom, for fuck’s sake. Dom. You think you’re better than him? Really?”
“No, I just—”
“Then get your head out of your ass. A reckless move like that’s what almost killed you last time.” I shook my head as he spoke. How dare he? “This time, I might not be around to—”
“You know what,” I cut in, voice raised. A few people turned their heads my way. I gave them the finger. “You can just fuck off, Nik. Just fuck the fuck off. Just walk away. Just disappear.” I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at his name. “That’s what you’re best at,” I said and hung up, fuming.
My phone started vibrating with an incoming call almost immediately. It was Nik. I rejected it. I did it twice more before I turned the damn thing on silent and stuffed it back into my pocket, grumbling “Asshole” under my breath.
I strolled into the East Precinct station with a chip on my shoulder and a bone to pick. I couldn’t go back to the shop until I’d cooled off, but I also couldn’t stand being unproductive. I marched straight to the unmanned reception window and dinged the little bell with equal parts purpose and ferocity. And just kept on dinging. It was their own damn fault for putting the thing out in the open in the first place.
Garth sprang up from behind his desk near the back of the room and hustled to the window, slamming his hand over mine to stop the dinging.
He looked at me and blinked several times, then his lips spread into an unsure gri
n. “I almost didn’t recognize you like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you going to let me in, or what?” I asked, gesturing to the locked door with my chin.
Garth released my hand and let me in. I followed him back to his desk.
“Gah . . .” I dragged a rolly chair over from the desk in front of his and plopped down. “I hate every single thing that I’m wearing.”
“You look nice,” Garth said, sitting at his desk and typing on his laptop. He clicked his mouse a few times, then settled back in his chair with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “So to what do I owe this visit?”
Resting my forearm across the corner of his desk, I leaned in and locked eyes with him. “Where are the files?” I sat back. “I can’t do my part until you do yours . . .”
He frowned and reached for his mouse, pulling up a new window on his computer. “I sent them to you an hour ago.” He looked at me. “You didn’t get them?” He went back to scanning the screen. “The combined file size was pretty large, but it doesn’t look like it bounced back.”
I exhaled heavily and pulled my phone from my coat pocket. Sure enough, there was an email from the SPD. There was also a string of texts from Nik and one from Mari telling me the supposed location of her off-the-books shipment—Harbor Island. “No, no,” I told Garth, pocketing my phone. “It’s my fault. I just haven’t checked my phone in a bit.” I started combing my fingers through my hair, forgetting I’d pulled it back in a rare bun, and ended up pulling a few chunks free. “Damn it,” I grumbled, taking down the whole thing.
“Everything alright?” Garth asked, a little wary.
“Yes,” I snapped, then sighed. “No.” I shook my head, laughing under my breath. Damn you, Nik . . . “Everything’s really not alright.” For whatever reason, he’d always been able to get under my skin, and his admonitions had cut pretty deep.
“Well . . .” Garth turned his wrist over to check his watch. “I had an early shift today. I was technically done thirty minutes ago, so if you want to head down to the Goose and grab a beer . . . ?”
I perked up. “Dear God, yes.” I stood and looked down at him, still seated in his desk chair. “Are you ready?”
He chuckled. “Just give me a minute, alright?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Feel free to grab a coffee while you wait.”
“No, I’m good.”
“I think there might still be a few donuts back there, too.”
I was already on my way.
Again, he chuckled. That deep, softly rumbling sound—and the fact that I’d caused it—eased my chip, just a bit.
As I took a bite of apple fritter, I realized something truly terrifying. I liked Garth. Like, he was a cool dude. He was interesting, and he cared about missing street kids—the kind most people considered pests and wanted to get rid of. He was a genuine good guy. And he was a fragile, short-lived human. A surefire path to heartbreak and devastation.
But I still wanted to grab a beer with him, despite knowing I shouldn’t. Knowing I was asking for trouble. Nik was being an overprotective dick, I was sad and pissed, and Garth was being nice to me. It was a rare thing for me. A dangerous thing.
“Ready?” Garth asked, hand on my shoulder.
I jumped and turned around, half-eaten fritter to my chest.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled, causing little crinkles at the corners of his coffee-brown eyes.
“S’okay,” I said around a mouthful of donut.
He chuckled again, and I wanted to punch myself for thinking it was cute. I mean, this guy was at least ten years my junior. But then, I was getting to the age where hooking up with anyone my own age was pretty creepy, considering that I looked like I’d barely graduated from high school. It was getting harder and harder to shake the pedophile ick factor with anyone who didn’t make me feel like Mrs. Robinson.
“You swear you’re over twenty-one?” Garth asked me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to get suspended for drinking with a minor using a fake ID.”
I snorted, amused that his train of thought hadn’t been far off from mine. “Trust me, bud. I’m good.”
Chapter Nine
I drink too much. I know it, but it’s hard to say no to the blissful numbness the bottle provides when I’m guaranteed to have zero side effects, at least health-wise. It’s my favorite medicine, and for a good long while, it’s been the only way I’m able to let my guard down enough to sleep with someone. Sometimes, it’s the only way I can fall asleep. If only the dreams didn’t kick in when the booze wore off. I’d probably smoke cigarettes, too, if they didn’t make my hair smell like an ashtray and inspire me to spend half my day in the shower or brushing my teeth. Trust me, I’d tried.
“So,” Garth said, watching me knock back my fourth shot of tequila, “bad day?” We’d been at the bar for maybe ten minutes. From the look on Garth’s face, I was impressing the hell out of him with my gusto. Or was that shock? We’d grabbed street tacos from the food truck out front, and the Mexican food had inspired me to stick with a theme—tequila and Coronas. Oh yeah, did I mention I was sipping on a beer as well? Garth was being a smart human and sticking to beer alone.
I laughed bitterly, then took a bite of one of my tacos—shredded pork belly with cilantro-lime slaw, hot-hot salsa, and extra guac. Better than a frozen pizza, that’s for damn sure. “I’d tell you just how bad,” I said after swallowing. I glanced at him sidelong. “But then I’d have to kill you.”
Garth laughed.
I eyed him as I took another bite. He thought I was joking. That’s adorable.
“I’m going to hit the head,” Garth said, standing from his stool. “Be right back.”
As he made his way to the back of the room, I caught the bartender’s eye at the far end of the bar—it was a different one from the chick who’d been serving us—and pointed to my empty shot glass. I watched him refill it, grabbing the bottle before he could take it away. “Just leave it,” I said, looking into his Caribbean-blue eyes. His Nejeret eyes.
Not even an ounce of shock shone on his ageless face. A handsome face, even with that cruel twist to his mouth and the challenge glinting in his aqua eyes. Or maybe because of those things. Regardless, it was an unfamiliar face as well. This Nejeret wasn’t part of Clan Heru.
“I haven’t seen you around before.” My lips spread into a slow grin. “Does Heru know you’re working in his territory?”
He released the bottle but didn’t answer.
“Do you know who I am?”
With a blink, he was looking at me again. He nodded. “Rogue Hunter.” It had been my title back when I’d been working as one of the Senate’s pet assassins, chowing down on revenge with a side of hefty paycheck.
My smile widened to a grin. “Does Heru know you’re here?” I repeated. “Show me your papers.” Though the Senate’s way of tracking and regulating Nejerets was easily forgeable, at least it would give me this one’s name. Of course, even if he had residency papers granting him permission to work and live here, there was no way for me to verify their authenticity without calling up Heru himself. And that wasn’t going to happen. I was out. Done. He was still involved in Senate shit, and I wanted no part of that.
Besides, they were all better off without me.
“Don’t have any,” the bartending Nejeret said.
My eyes narrowed.
“Don’t need them. I work for the Senate.”
I scoffed. “Why would they station anyone on Cap Hill? I’m the only one who lives—” My eyes widened, and my lips parted as realization struck. He was here to keep an eye on me, the wild card. The loose cannon. The ex-assassin with too much time on her hands.
That cruel twist to his mouth broadened to a sly grin, and damn my neglected libido to hell if I wasn’t equal parts turned on and pissed. How long had he been spying on me? And why? Just to make sure I didn’t turn on the Senate themselves? Did he know I was investigating Ouroboros? Or the missing Nejerets? What about the s
treet kids? Did he know that Nik was in town, staying with me? Nik hadn’t wanted the Senate to know either of us were involved in the case—because he didn’t trust that they weren’t involved on the other end.
What if Nik was right? What would that mean for Mari? What if the Senators who’d sent her to Ouroboros were really involved in some sort of a hidden faction—a shadow Senate?
My blood chilled as I continued to stare into the Nejeret’s eyes. Without warning, he plucked the bottle from my loose grip and replaced it on the counter behind him, swapping it out for a two-thirds-full bottle of Grand Centenario from the second-to-top shelf. He set the new bottle on the bar, met my eyes, and said, “On the house.”
I uncorked the bottle, filled two shot glasses, and offered one to him, my not-so-sneaky way of checking if he’d spiked it with something. He clinked his glass against mine and tossed back the shot. I did the same. “Don’t think this gets me off your back,” I said, throat burning. I took a swig of my beer. “We will have a little chat. I want answers.” I flicked the bottle with a fingernail. “But this’ll buy you an hour or two.”
He picked up my empty shot glasses, leaving only one behind, locked eyes with me, and licked his lips, that wicked grin returning. “I look forward to it.”
My belly gave a little tingly flutter, and I crossed my legs on the stool. Now I was looking forward to our chat, too, and not for the words that would be exchanged. I cleared my throat, averted my gaze, and nodded to Garth, who was just returning from the bathroom. “Grab my friend another beer.” As an afterthought, I added, “Please.”
“You got it,” the Nejeret bartender said and turned to fill a pint glass at the tap. He set it on the counter, then retreated to the other end of the bar.
“So . . .” Garth sat and took a swig of beer, draining his first pint glass and sliding it out of the way. “What was that all about?”
The Kat Dubois Chronicles: The Complete Series (Echo World Book 2) Page 7