Shadow Bound

by Rachel Vincent

  “We were gonna make waffles. You want some?” Van asked, pulling a box of Bisquick from the cabinet over the toaster. And that’s when I realized this wasn’t her first visit. I didn’t even know where we kept the Bisquick.

  “Waffles at two in the afternoon?”

  Van shrugged. “It’s Saturday,” she said, like that should be explanation enough.

  “Thanks, but I have to go meet Jake.”

  “That should make this whole ‘no cussing’ thing interesting,” Kenley said, pulling a carton of eggs from the fridge. “At least it’s just a dare, and not a sealed oath.”

  I stepped into my first boot. “What, you don’t think I can do it?”

  My sister looked up at me from across the counter. “I think profanity is your native language. That makes it a hard habit to break.”

  I thought about that as I brushed my hair and teeth. And I decided she was right.

  I started to tell Kenley and Van that I was leaving, but sudden suspicious silence from the kitchen made my pulse spike in warning and drew me forward before I remembered that I was unarmed. But instead of an intruder, I found only my sister and her girlfriend, leaning against the counter in front of the steaming, hissing waffle iron, holding hands and just staring at each other.

  It was so sweet I couldn’t stand to watch. So I backed up without drawing their attention and closed myself into my room again with the light off. A second later, I stepped into Jake’s darkroom. I hadn’t been there in two months, but I’d been hundreds of times in the past six years, and it still felt exactly the same. A little bigger than most of the darkrooms at his various other facilities, and a little colder. And as dark as a void, like space with no stars.

  I started forward, my hand outstretched, and three steps later, my fingertips bumped the switch on the wall, next to the door. Light flared to life overhead and I squinted while my eyes adjusted. Then I pressed a button on the small full-color display set flush with the wall next to the door. Static appeared on the screen, and a moment later a familiar face replaced it.

  “Kori?” Danny Larimore stared out at me from the screen. “What the hell are you doing? There’s a big red sign next to the monitor in here that says your darkroom privileges have been revoked. It’s laminated and everything.”

  Which was why I didn’t have the key card that would have gotten me access to the rest of the house without having to deal with someone in the security room. “I know, but I have to talk to Jake. Buzz him if you need to. Tell him it’s about Ian Holt. He’ll tell you to let me in.”

  “If this backfires and he decides to shoot the messenger, I’m comin’ in there to kick your ass.”

  “Whatever.” I could take Larimore even unarmed. “Just buzz him.”

  The screen lapsed into static again, and I filled the silence by running through the list of reasons I wouldn’t recruit Ian, if I had any choice. Then I started on the number of ways I could kill Jake Tower—if that wouldn’t be the worst strategic mistake in history.

  I was up to boiling him alive in the blood of his own murder victims when Larimore appeared on-screen again. “He’s sending someone to escort you to his office.”

  “I know the way.”

  “And he knows you. Sit tight.” Then the screen went blank again, and again I was alone with my thoughts—a situation I found increasingly less comfortable with every occurrence.

  A couple of minutes later, the door swung open into the hall, and David scowled at me, a strip of medical tape over his broken nose, dark bruises circling both eyes.

  Great.

  I stepped into the hall and the door swung closed behind me. David crossed both thick arms over his chest. “Make one suspicious movement, and I have permission to drop you where you stand.”

  “I think we both know how well that worked out last time.” I turned to the right and headed for the staircase. “How pissed was Jake about you lying down on the job?”

  David growled, and when I reached the top step, his footsteps stopped behind me. “You know, I could just kick you down the stairs and say you fell.”

  I shrugged and turned to face him, careful not to grip the railing, which would make me look scared. “You could. And even if I don’t manage to take you down with me, I’d be dead at worst, hurt and pissed at the least. Either way, that leaves you to explain to Jake that with me out of the picture, he’s lost all the headway I’ve made recruiting Ian Holt. And you know how Jake deals with bad news.”

  With that, I made myself walk down the stairs, trying not to look like I was worried about being shoved with every step. Because I knew from experience that logic doesn’t always trump anger and humiliation, and I’d fed David heaping helpings of both.

  In the foyer, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “You look like you might be about to run off,” he said, and I realized this was a power play. He wanted to be seen hauling me through the house like he’d caught me making trouble. I wanted to laugh. His little show wouldn’t make the damage to his face look any better.

  Jake’s office was just off the foyer, and when we got there, before David could knock on the double glass doors, I spun and pulled my arm from his grasp, then punched him in the nose. Again.

  David howled, and blood poured from his face. Again. While a couple of housekeepers came running with disposable towels and bleach, I knocked on the door and waited for a response. When Jake called for me to come in, I pulled open both doors and stepped inside, while behind me, two women in simple black uniforms tried to staunch the flow of blood from David’s nose.

  “What happened to your escort?” Jake asked as I pushed the door closed behind me.

  “Ran into something.” I dropped into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I bet he’d be a real hazard on white carpet.”

  “Would your fist happen to be what he ran into?”

  “Could be.” I pretended to examine the blood on my hand. “My knuckles are suddenly sore.”

  Jake chuckled, and I exhaled silently in relief. “I always could count on you to test the weak points in my security.” He handed me a wet wipe from the carton on his desk and I scrubbed the blood from my knuckles, then tossed the tissue into the gas fireplace, where he incinerated it with one press of a remote control button.

  There would be no consequence for busting David’s nose. No consequence for me, anyway, because Jake was in a good mood. Or because he was already pissed at David. Or maybe because his horoscope said he’d find humor in unexpected places today.

  As for David… He’d been taken down two days in a row by an unarmed women five inches shorter and eighty pounds lighter. That meant he wasn’t pulling his weight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he found himself on much lighter duty in the very near future.

  Jake leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I assume you’re here to report that Holt is eating out of your hands?”

  I shrugged. “Well, he hasn’t bitten off my fingers yet, so it’s looking pretty good.”

  “Does he like you?”

  “Yeah, I think he does. But I’m actually here to report something else. Cavazos made a play for him this morning. Two low-level musclemen in broad daylight. It was insulting.”

  Jake frowned. “On the west side?”

  I nodded. “Less than half a mile from the hotel.”

  “Casualties?”

  “None. Like I said, they were in over their heads. It looks like they found out where he was staying and waited for him to show up on the street. They may even be recon guys who just saw an opportunity and grabbed it. Cavazos will try again, though, and the next team will be more competent. I need a weapon, Jake.”

  “No, you don’t. Cavazos won’t send anyone he can’t afford to lose past the river, so just stay out of the east side.” Jake’s brows rose in challenge. “Or should I assign David to protect you?”

  “I don’t know, he’s kind of delicate,” I said. “I’d hate for him to get hurt again.”

  Jake chuck
led, but his eyes weren’t laughing. “So you can handle this on your own, then?” he said, and that question only had one acceptable answer.

  “Of course.”

  Sure, I could walk all over downtown in possession of the second most valuable piece of human commodity in the city, armed with nothing but quick fists and a sharp tongue. No problem.

  Jake watched me, and I was careful not to fidget or to look away, or to give him any nonverbal hint that I was less than sure of myself. Appearing confident is half the battle with Jake.

  The other half is being willing to grab the man next to you and use him as a human shield.

  “Good,” he said at last. “Where did you take him today?”

  “He wanted to see the city, so we walked around downtown and I explained the basics of syndicate structure.”

  “What’s his disposition toward signing?”

  I shrugged, and the leather upholstery creaked beneath me. “Understandably hesitant, but interested.”

  “Have you come across anything we can use to make him less hesitant?”

  “Not yet.” That was mostly true, because I didn’t yet know what Ian wanted from Jake. And since Julia wasn’t there to read the tiny kernel of a lie buried deep in that larger truth, I would get away with it.

  “So you walked, talked and dined all day long, and you didn’t come up with anything useful?”

  “Um… He’s left-handed, a democrat and a nonsmoker,” I said. Jake was not amused. “In my own defense, liquor was the main course at lunch, so it’s not like we lingered over conversation and coffee.”

  “What about his things? What name is on his license? What numbers are in his phone? Are there pictures in his wallet? Credit cards?”

  “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be spying on him.”

  “You’re supposed to be convincing him to join the syndicate. Whatever that takes. Too many credit cards could mean he has heavy debt. Pictures of kids in his wallet could mean he has someone we can threaten.”

  “But you already ran a credit check, and a background check, and every other kind of check there is.” I’d seen the results. Ian’s parents and only brother were dead, and he had no other close living family members. He lived alone, and well within his means. He had $17,000 in savings and no stock portfolio. He owned his car outright—a two-year-old midlevel sedan—and rented a two-bedroom house. He was an ordinary man with a good sense of humor and an extraordinary Skill.

  “That won’t tell me what bastards he fathered on the sly, or what debt he’s racked up under someone else’s name.”

  “He’s not a thief, Jake.” Or a deadbeat dad. He just wasn’t.

  Jake rolled his chair backward and pulled open a minifridge built into the credenza behind him. “You’re a lot of things, Kori. A steady hand, a good shot, a beautiful face, a foul mouth, an abrasive bitch and, recently, a very big pain in my ass. But one thing you’ve never been is naive.” He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and pushed the door shut, then rolled his chair back to his desk and scowled at me over it, bottle in hand. “You don’t know what he is, and the minute you start thinking you do is the minute you’ve failed this assignment. You only know what he lets you see, and the reverse damn well better be true.”

  I nodded—you can never go wrong with a noncommittal answer.

  “Only two kinds of people join the syndicate. Those who have something to hide and those who have nothing to lose. It’s your job to figure out which one of those descriptions fits Ian Holt.”

  “What if neither of them fits? He hasn’t said he’ll sign yet,” I said, and immediately regretted reminding him of what I hadn’t yet accomplished.

  “He’s here for a reason, Korinne. Find out what that is.” Jake cracked open his water bottle and took a long drink, but his gaze never left me, disapproving stare intact. “Where are you taking him for dinner?”

  I shrugged and, too late, I realized he probably wasn’t going to like my answer. “I thought I’d let him choose.”

  Leather creaked as Jake sat straighter in his chair. He leaned forward, arms crossed over his desk blotter. “So, he ordered his own breakfast, you neglected to feed him lunch, and you’ve made no dinner reservations? The plan is to weaken him with hunger? Starve him until he signs?”

  Making concrete plans for dinner honestly hadn’t occurred to me. I never ate anywhere that required reservations unless I was with Jake—he took two bodyguards everywhere he went—and even then, his assistant always did the reserving.

  “I can make some calls,” I mumbled, digging my phone from my pocket.

  “What, the fry cook at Denny’s owes you a favor?”

  I had no good response to his piercing sarcasm, so I bit my tongue. Until it bled.

  “I’ll make dinner arrangements. You go fetch my guest. I’m ready to discuss business.” He reached for his desk phone and waved one hand at me in dismissal.

  “Can I get a key card?” I said, standing.

  Jake looked up at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “When and if I want you to have unlimited access to my home, I’ll give you a key card. But don’t expect that to happen anytime soon.”

  I nodded curtly, pretending that didn’t sting. I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want to give a damn that he still didn’t trust me, because I’d never trusted him a day in my life. But it did sting, and beyond that, it was a hell of an inconvenience, not being allowed into the syndicate’s headquarters without being personally cleared by security every time I traveled into the darkroom.

  I excused myself and made my way back upstairs alone and was not surprised to see that Jake had sent another guard to make sure I went no farther than the darkroom. This one didn’t grab my arm. He didn’t even speak to me.

  He must have liked his face the way it was.

  Twelve

  Ian

  I didn’t know Kori was there until she stepped out of the bathroom without warning, and I nearly jumped out of my own skin. I’d met shadows that made more noise. “You know, you should give a guy some warning. What if I’d been naked?”

  She shrugged and followed me into the living room. “I could use a good laugh.”

  “Ha ha.” But unless I was mistaken, she didn’t look horrified by the possibility.

  “Your presence has been requested at syndicate headquarters,” Kori said, perched on the arm of the nearest couch.

  “Now?” I asked, and she nodded. “And headquarters would be where?”

  “Jake’s house. But don’t let that lull you into a misplaced sense of comfort.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” I opened the minifridge and pulled out two sodas, then tossed one to her. “What does he want?”

  “To talk business. And probably to apologize for your mistreatment at my hands.”

  My brows rose in surprise and I spread my arms to take in the elegant suite around us. “If this is mistreatment, you can abuse me any day, Ms. Daniels.”

  She laughed, and I watched her. Making her smile felt like a victory.

  “So, what if I don’t want to report to Tower? What if I’d rather sit here and finish this soda with you?”

  Her smile died a slow death. “Then I’d have to assume that you’re not seriously considering our offer. And I’d be obligated to relay that to Jake.”

  “Obligated?” I said, and she shrugged.

  “I can’t lie to him.”

  I twisted the top from the plastic bottle and the soda inside fizzed briefly. “I take it he doesn’t bear bad news gracefully?”

  Kori blinked and seemed to consider the question. “Honestly, he doesn’t get much bad news. Messengers tend to go out of their way to make sure they only bring him good news. Many a decision has been changed at the last minute by a messenger with a will to survive.”

  I watched her, waiting for a smile, or a laugh, or even one sharply arched brow to tell me she was joking.

  She had to be joking. Right?

  I wasn’t going to take the chance, eithe
r way. I couldn’t afford to piss off either Kori or Tower until I had a clear shot at Kenley Daniels.

  Standing, I screwed the lid back on my bottle and set it on the coffee table. “So, anything I should know about this meeting?”

  Kori shrugged and sipped from her own bottle. “Don’t promise him anything. Ask for more than you expect to get, so he can talk you down a little and save face.”

  “But I haven’t agreed to sign yet.”

  “Exactly. This is his chance to try to buy you. Later, when you do agree to sign, the first draft of your contract will reflect whatever the two of you hash out in his office today. Nothing’s official until the ink has dried, but you want a good starting place. You need a good starting place.”