by Kim Harrison
“In a better place than you might think.” Clearly glad for the shift in topics, he resettled their dinner on his lap. “I checked out LB’s lab. It’s so far out of OSHA standards it’s scary, but making up more withdrawal preventative isn’t going to be a problem. Two days, maybe? It won’t be Evocane, but it will tamp down the withdrawal this time. I promise.”
“Thank God.” She eagerly took the fork he handed her, stabbing one of the ravioli and angling it in. The tart, acidic taste hit the sides of her mouth, and her hunger hit.
“There’s still nothing on Jack in the news,” he said as he unrolled one of the foil-wrapped breads. “But WEFT probably asked the cops to keep it out of the news.”
Her empty stomach growled, and she slowed. Eating spicy tomato sauce so fast might not be prudent. “They didn’t have much of a choice after I tangled them up on the interstate.”
Silas grunted in agreement, handing her the bread before unwrapping the other. She could smack LB for letting Jack go. He was an ass, but what he’d done was almost noble. They never would’ve evaded WEFT and the cops without Jack’s help. If she’d landed in custody, it might have been hours before WEFT gained jurisdiction and she got her Evocane fix—assuming they gave it to her. Jack had given her freedom and the chance to act.
Seeing her brooding, Silas leaned over their shared plate. “He did it,” he said as if reading her mind, “so you wouldn’t make LB lock him up. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“I suppose.” Peri stabbed her ravioli. “He didn’t scrub me, though.”
Silas’s frown deepened. “Don’t do this. Jack is in it for himself. He didn’t scrub you because he wasn’t sure he’d be around to sell you his song and dance.” He pointed his fork at her. “What does your intuition say about him?”
“You mean my hallucination?” she mocked, still not pleased Silas had put Jack there. “He hasn’t weighed in on it.” She ate half a ravioli. “He’s more interested in making Steiner the host of a game show than helping me figure anything out.”
Silas’s smile became odd. “Game show, eh?” he said as if that explained something. “LB put his chemists—and I use the term loosely—on the Evocane substitute. He thinks it would be better to wean you off it compound by compound instead of going cold turkey.” Silas hesitated at her fierce look, then added, “You scared a drug lord, Peri. If he thinks it’s unsafe, then it’s unsafe.”
Mollified, she returned to eating. “And you trust them to get the substitute right?”
There were only three ravioli left, and Silas set his fork down. “LB supplies the I-75 corridor. His crew stinks, farts, smokes, and has a shocking disregard for authority, but they know their product and what they’re doing. Any one of his chemists could work at one of Detroit’s research facilities but they have, ah, issues,” he finished uncomfortably. “Other than the stink, fart, smoke . . . thing.”
“That an East Coast drug lord is cooking my fix makes me so-o-o-o much more comfortable,” she said sourly, but there was a kernel of truth to it. She didn’t want the last three ravioli either, and she set the plate aside, leaning back against the headboard and tugging the afghan over her. “We head out tomorrow, then? Where do you want to go?” A solid day’s sleep might be possible in the depths of a drug lord’s den. Funny how that worked.
Silas scooted to the end of the bed, and her first complaint turned into a moan of pleasure when he pulled one of her legs out from under the knitted blanket and began to rub her foot. “I’m thinking Arizona,” Silas said, and her eyes closed in bliss. She’d forgotten that the Opti requirements for their psychologists included sixteen credit hours of massage therapy. “A ranch close to the border where it never gets cold,” he said as he found a trigger point and released her back. “You could raise quail.”
She opened one eye to find him half-serious. But she liked people too much to become a hermit. Slowly her smile faded. She was going to miss Detroit, the way the city had found a new greatness—an independent confidence, maybe—after being abandoned to those who were too poor or stubborn to move—like she was.
“Still holding your tension in your lower back, I see,” he said, running a firm thumb to the outside of her arch.
“Oh, God. Don’t stop,” she moaned as the pain evolved into relief—and then guilt. He knew how to make her feel good, and she’d done nothing for him but abandon him and ignore that he loved her. Being scared was not an excuse.
She must have stiffened because he sighed and let go of her foot. Her eyelids cracked, and she closed them again as he moved to the head of the bed, expression pained. “Move over,” he said gruffly, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice as he pushed her to the center of the bed, his bulk moving her slight frame easily. Jaw clenched, she scrunched down under the blanket. She could feel his warmth, soaking into her, and she avoided his eyes.
“Why are you so hung up on me doing anything nice for you?” he finally said.
“I’m not.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is it because you think it’s the Opti conditioning? That they made you into a deadly but dependent princess who expected to be waited on all the time?” She looked away, and he made a knowing sound. “Peri, you broke that a long time ago. Well, most of it,” he added, and she grimaced at his chuckle. “You don’t need anyone. But that doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”
God, why is this so hard? “Silas . . .”
“No.” He put a finger to her lips, shifting to lie sideways beside her, propped up on an elbow. “You read your diary, right? The one I gave you?”
She nodded, thinking of it stuffed under the pillow. The love she’d had for him was obvious in the pages, and still, she’d destroyed it—for a chance at glory. “I did,” she said softly.
“Then why?”
“Because I don’t remember it. Every time you look at me, I feel as if I’m broken.”
He brushed the hair from her forehead and kissed it. “So?”
“So I don’t like feeling broken.”
“Everyone is broken.”
“But my pieces don’t fit together anymore.” Unable to face him, she rolled away. Her chest hurt when he snuggled tight behind her. His arm draped over her, a taunting familiarness wisping about the edges of memory. Her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry.
“You’re the strongest person I have ever known,” he whispered in her ear. “Do you remember how we met?”
“I don’t want to do a recall,” she said petulantly, and he chuckled.
“You were with Allen at the time. Just friends, but it was obvious that anyone hanging with you had ulterior motives.”
“Allen?” Interested, she rolled back, wondering at the weird, pained smile on him.
“He’d hijacked a drone, and you were trying to fly it into Opti’s armory to get a look at the weapons you’d be up against in one of your finals. One of the stabilizers went out. It crashed into the med hall auditorium right during an exam. Knocked me a good one.” His smile became fond and he pushed back a lock of hair from his forehead. “Look, you can still see the scar.”
She touched it, finding it by feel. “How come I never wrote that down?”
“You vaulted through the broken window after it. Bold as brass, you picked up the drone, changed one of the answers on my test, and walked out.”
She chuckled, imagining it. “I’m surprised I didn’t get expelled.”
“You would have if you hadn’t been wearing smut to throw off the recognition software. You were new. No one recognized you. Yet.”
His fingers ran a delicious trace of sensation over her shoulder, following a line of muscle, and she shivered. “I ran into you a few days later, pissed because my entire exam was thrown out because of you. It was at Overdraft, actually. I recognized the limp you got by kicking the professor into a wall when he tried to detain you.”
“Huh.” Settled back in the pillows, she played with the hair about his ears. “That might explain one of my grades.”
/> Silas’s expression shifted abruptly. “I’m sorry you don’t remember, but I do.”
“Silas,” she protested.
“Just . . . shut up, will you?” he said, leaning over and soundly kissing her.
Her flash of startlement vanished in an inrush of air. His lips were warm and soft . . . familiar. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she wouldn’t let him pull away until a slip of his tongue surprised her and he drew back. The sound of their lips parting echoed through her memory, the scent of his skin against hers sparking flashes of vision.
Silas’s eyes were wary. “This isn’t—” he started, and she laced her hands behind his neck to keep him from pulling away.
“What?” she asked. “Smart? Not what you had planned on doing, coming in here wearing raggedy jeans and a Van Halen T-shirt?” Gently she pulled him back over her, her fingers aggressive as they raked through his hair and down his back. “You kissed me first.”
“I shouldn’t have. Peri, you’re feeling very vulnerable right now.”
She shoved him just enough to get the afghan between them free, and lifting it in invitation, she smiled when he looked. He hadn’t moved, and she flicked the blanket half over him. “That’s just the psychologist in you talking,” she said, pulling him back to her. She could tell the instant he gave up, and her lips left his to hop-skip down his neck as she slipped a leg between Silas’s. His skin held a hint of salt, and she tugged gently on the soft part of his throat. “I’m not feeing at all vulnerable. Trust me.”
He chuckled, and she shut him up with another long, soul-stealing kiss.
His weight shifted, covering her with a heavy security, and she sent her hands down his chest, fumbling for his zipper. The cold slipped under the afghan as he moved, and she shivered.
Silas’s hand was warm and rough as he slipped her shirt over her head, finding the small of her back and easing her deeper onto the bed with a sensation that was both domineering and gentle. His head lowered, and she buried her fingers in his hair, arching upward when he found her breast with his lips. She moaned, her grip tightening as he grew rougher, his hands at her waist keeping her pinned to the bed.
She gasped when he pinched too hard, and immediately he eased. “S’okay,” she whispered, wishing he’d do it again, fingers fumbling for his zipper.
But he didn’t, and she groaned when she finally got that damned zipper down and reached past it to find him. Again his touch became deliciously rough as she moved up and down his length, finding his neck with her lips, his ear with her teeth, his back with her nails—tracing a one-finger path up the center of his spine to feel him shiver and goad him into a more demanding touch. He wanted to leave with me. Forever.
Her breath came in with disappointment when he leaned out of her reach, but he was only wiggling out of his jeans, and then he was back, his gaze holding a questioning familiarity as he pinned her hands beside her ear. Their breath was fast, and his smile turned devilish when he saw the desire in her eyes and she lunged to find his mouth, imprisoned but not.
Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled him close. Maybe vanishing is a good idea.
Warmth overflowed as Silas bent close, holding her unmoving as he kissed her neck. She slipped one hand free to find him, caressing, guiding, arching up and teasing before falling back. Sensation plinked through her as they fell into a rhythm. Giving in to her own desires, she guided him in, exalting in the slow rise of how he felt both above and in her. Loved. Desired. And he was willing to give everything up to hide with her. Be with her.
Her breath caught as their rhythm shifted and he pressed deep, staying within her even as he found her breast. The twin sensations arced through her, almost unbearable. Wild with desire, she arched into him, demanding more, urging him, feeling the need quicken in him.
The slightest widening of rhythm warned her, and she gave herself to sensation, moaning as a wave of ecstasy rose, hesitated, and crashed over her. It hit Silas and he stiffened, groaning as he climaxed as well. Eyes shut, she lingered, afraid to move and end it. Their breathing twined together, the heavy sound of it finally pulling her eyes open as he shifted to get his weight off her.
“You’re not too heavy,” she whispered, and their eyes met.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she echoed, playing with the hair about his ears as he settled back. She could feel the sweat between them, the pleasant exhaustion. Forever? Maybe. It was worth struggling for. It finally felt as if she was doing something right, here in a drug lord’s playroom.
But he was still smiling down at her, and she arched her eyebrows at him when he took a breath to speak. “Think carefully about what is going to come out of your mouth,” she said, liking the way the dim light glistened on his skin to show the muscles underneath. “You didn’t take advantage of me, and it wasn’t the first time we’ve done this.” It wasn’t just that he knew exactly what button to push and when, but that there had been no awkwardness.
“No, but it’s the first time you remember it.”
She sighed as he lifted from her, exhaling in happiness as he fell to the bed beside her. It had been fast, almost too fast, but only because it was comfortable with the patterns of familiarity. There would be time for lingering and exploration later.
Rolling, she snuggled in beside him. First time she remembered? Yes. Hopefully not the last. Damn, how could I just willingly forget this? Stretching, she nibbled on his earlobe, tasting its texture between her teeth and letting go when he grunted and rolled off the bed.
“You want a washcloth or the shower?”
She stared at the ceiling, feeling good for the first time since who knew when. Why had she waited so long? “Shower,” she said as she sat up. “Mind if I go first? I honestly don’t think it will hold both of us.”
“Not at all.” With a happy sigh, he collapsed among the pillows.
Her knee, forgotten until now, slowed her shuffle to the bathroom. The water was hot almost immediately, and feeling like a different person, she got in. Water cascaded where his fingertips had traced, and she looked down at herself, smiling at the thought of having him with her always as she reached for the soap.
“We can have a year’s supply of substitute Evocane in a few days,” Silas called out.
“A few days?” she shouted back, not believing it.
“You haven’t seen his labs,” Silas answered. “By then, things will have cooled off to move safely. I was serious about Arizona. My uncle works at one of the parks out there, and they’re always open to selling property off. Nice and quiet.”
The ardor sluiced from her as if stripped by the water, and she looked over the shampoo selection, wondering whether she should have worn flip-flops. Nice and quiet sounded perfect. The wide Arizona horizons even better; and the aches drained away with the bubbles. Water dripping, she leaned to check out her knee. It was healing cleanly, but she grimaced at the coming scar. Like I don’t already have enough, she thought, running a hand down first one, then the other arm, cataloging the soft marks.
“Don’t remember this one,” she whispered upon finding a ragged mark on her thigh, not recalling where she got it but that Jack had been with her. He’d held the bowling towel they’d found in the trunk against her the entire ride back to Opti. She didn’t remember what they did with the dead man who had cut her, though.
Solemn, she turned off the shower, motions slow as she reached for a towel, counting the scars as she dried herself. Most had a reason she could point to, but there were enough that didn’t to cause her worry. “What am I doing?” she whispered, suddenly seeing beyond her dream that she could just walk away from who she had been. Her head started to hurt, but she refused to give up. She wanted what Silas offered, wanted it with everything in her soul. But like her scars, Bill would always be there. The only way to get what she wanted would be to face Bill and end it. Running away would only make him chase her harder.
The worst part? She would survive. It would be Silas who woul
d suffer.
Towel wrapped around her, she padded into the bedroom. “Silas?”
She stopped, seeing him asleep, vulnerable with the blanket half over him. His hair was mussed, making her want to arrange it. The half-light was beautiful on him, the shadows and glints inviting her to trace her fingers. He hadn’t slept at all since they’d joined LB, watching over her and making sure she was okay. He loved her—and it was going to get him killed.
“I can’t do this yet,” she whispered. He wouldn’t let her walk out of here alone, and she couldn’t wait two days for the Evocane substitute, but she didn’t need to.
The towel fell about her ankles, and she got dressed with a frugal quickness of motion. Hesitating instead of kissing him good-bye, she dropped the vial of Evocane into her short-job bag on top of her unworn clothes, then the syringe of accelerator he had hidden in his coat. Her diary was out of reach under the pillow, and she reluctantly left it.
Grabbing her boots, she slipped out, easing the door shut behind her. The main room was quiet, and she leaned her forehead against the door, hoping he’d understand when he woke and found her gone. “I’m sorry, Silas. I’ll be back,” she whispered.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a one-night stand,” LB said, and she spun, finding him sitting alone at a table.
He lifted a beer in salute and, flustered, she leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her to hold her bag to her middle. The large room was empty but for him, the movie about the kick-butt princess playing to an absent audience. “I need some clean syringes,” she said, the drips from her hair trailing down her back to make her shiver.
Silent, he looked at the ceiling as he took a handful from a nearby plastic bag and pushed them across the table. “You’ve only got five days of fix. What are you going to do?”
One day out, one day back, two to get things done, and a spare in case something goes wrong. “I’m going to the East Coast to kill Bill,” she said.
