Snickering under my breath, I watched him stretch. “Don’t give up the sickbed routine on my account.”
“My back hurts,” he admitted, sheepish. “This mattress is filled with gravel.”
A sharp huff from across the room brought a quick apology to his lips for the healer he had offended.
“Let’s get gone before they toss you out.” I hooked my arm through his. “What are your plans for the day?”
“Santiago needs extra hands wiring the new security measures around the house and property.”
“Ah.” I hadn’t realized that’s what he had been doing to occupy himself, but I should have known it involved wires and some form of tech. “The real reason for your convalescence reveals itself.”
He chuckled, well aware of our rivalry. “He doesn’t give me the same trouble he does you.”
Spotting the man himself, I grumbled, “He doesn’t give anyone the trouble he gives me.”
“That’s how he shows his love,” Portia sing-songed once we were in range. “He probably pulled girls’ hair on the playground to show them he likes them.”
“You know that’s unacceptable, right?” The hair-pulling, not the love-showing.
Santiago wrapped her hair around his fist and yanked until they stood nose-to-nose. “What does this show you?”
“That you haven’t brushed your teeth today. Your breath smells like the hot ass you don’t have.” She puckered up big. “I brushed mine twice — even flossed. I can kiss away the stink if you want me to try. It’s hard work, but someone’s got to be invested in your oral hygiene.”
He recoiled so fast, she stumbled forward into the space he used to occupy.
“Works every time.” She dusted her hands, but trouble sat in her eyes, an uneasiness that lingered in Santiago as well. “But seriously — do you want the gum or not?”
Attempting to shrug it off, he took the gum, chewed the flavor out of it, then stuck it in her hair.
I saw it coming from a mile away, and I should have stopped it. It was Maggie’s hair too, but Santiago was at his most obnoxious when he cared. Having Portia go MIA had rattled him. So near what could be the end, when we were all focused on savoring our last moments with loved ones, I couldn’t begrudge him his extreme reaction. Not where she was concerned. This was the game they played, and I wasn’t about to step on their toes if they only related to one another on the level of two kids on a playground.
Once Portia realized what he’d done, she screeched and lunged for him. He darted aside, laughing maniacally, and ran. She gave chase, and everyone — and I do mean everyone — got out of their way.
“Mags was a kindergarten teacher,” I said into the silence. “She’s an old pro at getting gum out of hair.”
Though she probably hadn’t had to peanut butter or olive oil it out of her own since we were kids.
“We should go.” Wu wasn’t half as amused by watching Santiago soak up Portia’s rage. “We don’t have long before the office closes.”
“What office?”
“An agent working undercover for the NSB called in the Bruster sighting. She’s working at a car lot. We’ll need to approach her as customers to maintain her cover.”
Unable to believe my ears, I shook my head. “You act like any of that will matter if we don’t stop your father.”
“This world existed before you, or me, and it will continue on, in some form, after we’re gone.”
Framed that way, I had to mentally step back to view the entire picture.
Cadres had come before us, and unless we rewrote history, more would follow. The world at large would continue to turn, with humans blissfully unaware of the battle raging in their midst. The charun population would remain divided between the factions who wanted nothing to do with their pasts, or the cadres their ancestors heralded from, and loyalists who would bear arms in the cadres’ name. Even among those, there would be division. Those who no longer had a horse in this particular race with War and Famine gone would sideline themselves and wait on the outcome, twiddling their thumbs until the next chance came around. Those who served Conquest or Death, however, would be scrambling to curry favor if they wanted a spot on the battlefield.
“If you die trying to wipe your father off the face of the Earth, do you really believe he will just let it go? That things will chug along as they have in the past? That he’ll allow the NSB to maintain its charun taskforce when he’s already detonated one secure holding facility at the cost of countless lives?”
“Luce — ”
“And what about demis? His hatred for the enclave makes it clear he finds charun mixing with humans abominable. What about charun who mate outside their species? Will they, and their children, be targeted next? Will he really allow the system you implemented, that you maintained, to continue?”
Because if his father won, then Wu lost. We all lost.
Daddy Wu might forgive a lot of things in the name of family, but patricide was likely not one of them. And given that the enclave was Wu’s blood kin, that meant he had to have loved a human, or at least slept with one, at some point. The offspring of that union, even generations later, was in danger of being exterminated by his father’s prejudice.
“If I die trying to wipe Father off the map,” he said after a long moment, “I’ll never know how he handles any of this after I’m gone.”
Cole was right. We needed to figure out Wu’s game plan. Like now. Today. What had his father done to earn his son’s hatred? Not just his stance against humans or his policies for controlling the charun populace, which were oppressive on both counts, but what he had done to Wu personally to deserve a knife in the back?
The knife Wu kept pressing into my hand after drawing on the bull’s eye.
Nebo, North Carolina was a pinprick on the map. Picturesque, quaint, rural. I saw the appeal for a charun in hiding immediately. The car lot where Special Agent Deena Williamson worked held about a dozen clunkers in various stages of disrepair. The flashiest thing about them were the sale stickers in bold colors stuck to all the windows, some of them covering cracks in the glass.
Wu and I posed as a happy couple in need of transportation while Cole slipped off to scout the area for any nasty surprises.
“I’m shocked he let you out of his sight,” Wu remarked. “He didn’t even growl at me.”
“Cole knows I love him.” I kept my tone cool while the urge to slap Wu again prickled my palm. “He’s got no competition.” And neither did I. He loved me, not Conquest. And every day, he was proving it to me all over again. “There’s no reason for him to be snarly because we’re doing our jobs.”
Slowing his pace before we reached the entrance, Wu forced me to hang back when all I wanted to do was shove inside and get this over with and behind me.
“I didn’t follow you last night, and I didn’t mean to follow you the night before. I didn’t set out with that in mind. I was in Jackson when I … ” His lips flattened, the top still fuller than the bottom. “I’m sorry, Luce. I know how much you value your privacy. I left as soon as I grasped — or rather saw you grasp — the situation.”
“The gasp was you.” Heat prickling in my nape, I started piecing it together. “Cole was certain someone was out there, I had my suspicions too, but I played dumb so we got a few more hours where we could pretend all that mattered was us.”
“That was reckless.” His chastisement rang hollow, and we both heard it. “You can’t trust your coterie to always have your back.”
“Yes.” I patted him on the chest. “I can.”
As much trouble as Maggie and Portia had gone through to plan my romantic evening with Cole, I had zero concerns they wouldn’t also have thought ahead to security measures for keeping our intimate bubble from bursting before dawn.
Done with Wu and his lip service, I marched to the dealership’s door and shoved it open to the tinkling of bells. A man with white hair slicked to his scalp, who looked old enough to have been around when Wu
was born, smiled at me from a receptionist’s desk, showing off coffee-stained dentures. Behind him, I counted one office and a combination unisex restroom/breakroom. A fridge sat beside the toilet, and a microwave perched on top of that. Both appliances were close enough that the spare toilet paper had been stacked on top of them next to the paper plates.
I won’t lie. I threw up in my mouth a little.
“How can I help you, young lady?” The man kept grinning his million-dollar smile. “Is this your husband?”
“No — ” I started as Wu said, “We’re engaged.”
The urge to stomp on his foot surfaced, but I kept my shoes planted.
“No ring yet, I see.” The man chuckled. “How’d you manage that?”
“It’s getting resized,” I growled before clearing my throat. “Family heirloom.”
“That’s nice. Real nice.” Nodding, he pulled out a notepad. “Are you thinking sedan, SUV, or truck? Compact, mid-sized, full-sized?”
“We haven’t decided yet.” I swept my gaze over the prospects. “That green … thing … looks nice.”
“Oh, that’s a Ford Pinto. A classic.” He pressed a button that caused a chime to ring out from the office three steps behind him. “Ms. Deena, we have two customers interested in the Pinto.”
“I’ll be right out, Sam.”
She didn’t bother with the intercom, and I liked her better for it. Then again, given the condition of the place, it might have been broken on her end.
Five minutes later, Deena graced us with her presence. She wore black stretch pants, a light pink short-sleeved sweater with a leopard print pattern in a darker shade, and shiny combat boots. Her hair was as wispy as cotton candy, her eyes the blue of Viagra, and her lips crimson and glossy like she had forgotten to wipe her mouth after eating a raw heart. Hopefully not from a person.
“Aren’t you two cute?” She clasped her hands in front of her small chest. “I’m Deena Williamson. We’ll start out with the Pinto and see where we end up. That sound good?”
“Yes,” we said in unison and trailed her outside to inspect the slim pickings.
“Mistress, forgive me.” Her voice softened, her tone reverent. “Sam is a good man, but he’s human. I didn’t want him to worry if I started acting peculiar.”
Yep. It was official. I liked her. “You’re fine. I’m not much into the whole reverence thing.”
“I heard that about you. Figured it must be true since you’re one of us suits.” She gestured to her outfit. “I’m usually less … colorful … but tight clothes and big hair attract more flies to my honey or however that saying goes.”
“You called me mistress. Does that mean you’re a Conquest loyalist or just polite?”
“Momma was coterie back in the day. She met a remnant from a previous ascension, a previous Conquest in fact, settled down in Georgia, and here I am.” She mulled it over. “I would say if I had to pick a side, it would be yours. Not because of your title, but because of who you are.”
“I prefer to sway people on my own merits,” was all I could say to that.
People who worshipped Conquest made me nervous, but people getting hung up on the idea of Luce Boudreau: Savior made me queasy beyond belief.
Deena picked up on my unease and switched topics. “Any particular reason you’re looking for Bruster?”
“It’s classified,” Wu said before I could decide how much to tell her. “His services have been requested.”
“He does a lot of freelance for the NSB,” she said, fishing. “He’s never been bagged or tagged.”
“He’s a valuable asset.” Wu smiled, and it was glacial. “Is there a reason why you’re protecting him?”
“I’m curious. That’s all.” She tugged on the hem of her sweater. “I don’t see much action out here. I was starting to think I had pissed off someone higher up the ladder to end up in Nebo. Now the two of you are here, and it’s just — exciting if I’m being honest.”
“I get that.” I got the same cheap thrills as a rookie. “You’ve done us a good turn by locating Bruster. We’re not going to hurt him. We just want to consult him. After that, he’ll be cut loose to disappear again.”
“He likes the pie over at Martha’s. It’s a coffee shop about five minutes up the road, on the left. Stops by every night like clockwork around eight. That’s how I’ve kept tabs on him. Drive straight. You can’t miss it.”
“We appreciate your time.” I turned to go, but Wu stopped me. “What?”
“Your ride is gone,” he pointed out, eyeing the Pinto with distrust. “We need a car to move around town. Unless you want to walk.”
Just my luck, I hadn’t purchased a return ticket on Air Cole.
Deena flashed a smile that probably had human men falling at her feet. “I’ll make you a deal … ”
An hour later, Wu was the proud owner of a mint-green Ford Pinto. The interior was white leather, the small scrapes touched up with White-Out. All in all, it wasn’t a bad deal for five hundred dollars. Plus, it made Wu’s skin crawl to sit on the sagging upholstery, which I found hilarious. That and the way he drove with the tips of his fingers like he worried the steering wheel might give him cooties.
What a snob. I would have killed for this car or any other box with wheels when I was a teenager. Even my Bronco was bought used to spare me heart palpitations over showroom floor pricing. But Wu? I was betting he never got hand-me-downs. Only the best of everything for him from the moment of conception forward.
We arrived at Martha’s before the dinner rush and claimed two seats at the diner-style bar. We ordered coffee and pie and settled in to wait. Three slices and two hours later, Bruster still hadn’t showed, and I had to use the little girl’s room.
After tossing back the last inch of coffee so black it absorbed creamer cup after creamer cup without changing color, I got Wu’s attention from his phone. “Be right back.”
I spun on my stool, smiling at the small thrill, then hopped off and headed for the bathroom. I had to pass the men’s on my way, and a prickle started between my shoulder blades that radiated down my arms and through my fingertips. The urge to reach for the gun I wasn’t wearing nearly overwhelmed me.
Pulling out my cell, I texted Wu.
I got a bad feeling.
His head came up, a predator on alert, and his nostrils flared as he turned in my direction.
I smell blood.
What’s our play?
I’ll pay the bill then check the
men’s room. Go to the ladies
so you don’t draw attention
to yourself.
As much as I had to go, I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of peeing while someone bled out the next room over. Sadly, one of the first things you learned as a cop was to take the breaks you were given. You never knew when you’d get another. So eat, drink, and tinkle when opportunities presented themselves.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, using the text as an excuse for why I had paused, I entered the ladies and handled my business while I waited on Wu to tell me what he found next door.
We can go now.
Thumbs flying over the screen, I demanded,
What do you mean?
I found Deland Bruster.
Oh good.
Not good. He’s dead.
He can’t be dead.
We need him.
I needed him. The night Kapoor had him read me, Bruster told me I was owned. I wanted to know by who. I had an inkling, but I wanted to be certain before I faced him.
He’s gone, Luce. I’m sorry.
Anger roiled in my gut, burning my hope to ashes.
How did he die? Who did
this? Why?
I might not be a cop anymore, but I used to be, and I had been raised by one. The instincts didn’t quit just because I had.
We need to go.
I want to see the body.
You’ll draw too much
attention to us, and that will
brin
g down heat on Deena.
Bruster is dead. We can’t
help him. We need to get
out before we can’t help
ourselves, either.
I marched out of the ladies’ room, out of the coffee bar, and out into the parking lot. That’s where Wu caught up to me, but I had enough mad to spread around and texted Sariah with an almost grim satisfaction at thwarting her efforts to earn back her freedom. God knows I was locked into my fate. Why not spread the misery around?
Forget Bruster. He’s dead.
Well shit.
My thoughts exactly.
This shouldn’t count
against me.
A man is dead. This isn’t a game.
We aren’t keeping score.
You honestly believe that,
and it’s why you’ll never
win. Ezra is still in play. We’ll
talk soon.
Fingers closing over the screen, I wanted to hurl the phone onto the asphalt and watch it skip like a rock on the water, but I reined in my temper before it got that far.
“I’m sorry.” Wu guided me toward the Pinto. “I know you hoped he had answers for you.”
“He had answers. He claimed someone owns me. It’s not Cole. Our bond isn’t like that. Even if it was, from what I understand, it would only affect him in a propriety way. This is something else, someone else, and I want to know what and who.”
“Does it matter? Whoever it is hasn’t exerted any control over you. We have no proof they have malicious intent.”
“People don’t bind themselves to other people, let alone kids they fish out of the swamp, with good intentions.”
A defensive note crept into his voice. “You don’t know that’s when or how it happened.”
“The only other option is that one of the doctors who worked on me … ” I swayed on my feet recalling the procedures. The cutting, the bleeding, the screaming for help that never came. “One of those butchers would have had to have been charun. Do you think that was the real interest? They knew what I was, if not who, and they did something to me while I was on that table?”
One of those tables. There had been many. So very many.
Rise Against: A Foundling novel (The Foundling Series) Page 14
