With the last bit of sense she had, Aralyn extricated her fingertips and took a step back, grateful that he hadn’t grabbed for the hand with the knife in it. “So, is that your real name, or was ‘Apollo’ just a happy accident?” she said, and then immediately her face flushed again when she caught the hint of flirtation in her voice.
“You flatter me.” He grinned, looking down at the floor. “I’ve found Apollo rolls off a lover’s tongue better than Sulaiman Ayad Al-Hashemi. But feel free to call me whatever you like.” He winked.
“What about ‘kidnapper,’ then? That has a nice ring to it,” Aralyn said, wresting control of her brain back from her hormones.
Apollo feigned injury, not looking dismayed in the slightest as he staggered back and brought both hands to his heart. “You wound me. Kidnapper? Never. I merely wanted to have a chat with the lovely renegade no one seems to be able to identify.”
Aralyn looked over at the wall monitor, the screen still playing the loop of their arrest. “So let’s hear it then,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Ooh, direct. I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Apollo took a seat and then extended an arm to the chair across from him at the table. “Please.” He waited expectantly, the self-same arrogant smile raising the corners of his mouth.
He really is used to getting his way… That much is obvious.
Despite her internal deliberation, Aralyn bit her cheek and took a seat. As a sign of good faith―but without revealing the knife in her palm, she removed her mask and tossed it onto the table, glaring silently at her would-be captor.
“So,” Apollo began, his smile still keeping any real emotion from coming to his face, “you’re working with Taav. That’s quite the dangerous venture these days.”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as working “with” him; more like we do what he says and we don’t go back to Tartarys,” Aralyn countered. “Why are you working with him?”
Apollo dipped his head in understanding. “We have a similar arrangement, I fear.”
They were both silent for a time, but then Apollo leaned forward and said, “I know who he says that you all are―your fake identities, as it were―mercenaries, orachal smugglers, bounty hunters… but that doesn’t ring as true. What have you done that I should help you get into Eladia’s organization?”
Aralyn sent a withering look at Apollo. “Why should you trust me? Why should I trust you? You show up in the middle of the night, drag me out of bed, and then demand to know why you should help us?” Aralyn scoffed. “We’re not the ones that need to establish trust, here. You’re the double agent.”
“Ah, that’s correct,” said Apollo, eyes downcast to the table like a puppy who’d been scolded. Despite it, his eyes didn’t lose their sparkle, which both intrigued and irritated Aralyn. “Perhaps we should reach an even ground then. We will be working closely together, after all, for the foreseeable future.”
The words made Aralyn’s stomach flip unexpectedly. She took a deep breath, pinching her nose and silently praying he would just put his mask back on.
“Okay,” she answered. “We’re not orachal smugglers―well, one of our people, Kita, used to be, but that wasn’t by choice. Caden and I were runners, but we got busted in a set-up. Riordan is a hacker, and he can be an asshole, but he’s good. He got caught sniffing around in a bank’s system a few years back though, and we broke him out of Tartarys―”
“That was you?” Apollo said, his eyes growing wide in the first non-put-on display of emotion Aralyn had seen from him since he’d removed his mask.
Cheeks blazing at the attention still, Aralyn nodded. “Yeah. That was us.”
Apollo nodded, as if clarifying something to himself. He tapped the inside of his elbow, eyes raised in a question. Aralyn looked down at her own arm, knowing that underneath the coat there was a bruise still from the tracking chip injection. She nodded and blew out a breath.
“You too?” she asked.
He returned the nod and then pulled a silver canister from his jacket before reaching down and rolling up the sleeve of his left arm, which was covered in pockmarks and faint trails of white scar tissue. “I removed it three times, but he’s managed to track me down despite that every time. There’s only so many times you can take a knife to your own flesh before you grow tired of doing it and give in.”
Aralyn eyed the door, still cautiously aware of the fact that he was still standing between her and the rest of her crew. “Why bring me out here? Alone?” she asked.
The cylindrical tube in his hand blinked blue at one end, and he put the opposite to his mouth, pulling in a sharp breath. After a moment, Apollo exhaled once more, pushing a white cloud toward her; the acrid smell of burning orachal tingled inside of Aralyn’s nose. She recoiled sharply, kicking back out of the chair and covering her mouth with her hand, simultaneously managing to shout, “What the fuck?” before holding her breath.
Arrogant delight lit up his face and Apollo sputtered as he fought back laughter. Aralyn opened the blade in her hand, extended it, and pressed the knife up below her kidnapper’s chin, letting him feel the pressure of it against his jugular. Irritation and something else like surprise flashed over his face. Head tilted back at a painful angle, the laughter fell from his lips, but in a flash, his calm exterior returned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
This guy doesn’t even need to wear a mask around here. It took a knife to the throat to get a single ounce of real emotion out of him.
“Put. It. Away,” Aralyn growled.
“This is just to help calm the nerves, love,” Apollo said, fighting―and failing―to hide the returning grin. “It would take much more than the little bit of orachal in here to do anything hypnotic to you or me.”
Nervously, Aralyn allowed herself to breathe again, but waved the air, willing the smoky cloud to stop heading in her direction. “Put it away,” she demanded once more, taking the knife from his neck. She stepped back and then waited for him to respond.
Miffed, he acquiesced, putting the tube back into his brocade coat pocket. There was no way to tell beforehand if someone had the proclivity for being an orachal fiend or if they could handle being a casual user. It probably had a lot to do with whatever the orachal was cut with, but Aralyn wasn’t willing to bet her life on it. Once she was satisfied that it wasn’t some trick to enslave her, she returned to the table, righted her overturned seat, and prodded him with a motion to go on before sitting.
“I’ll ask again―why separate me from the others?” Aralyn asked.
“The Spector, Madigan,” Apollo said, as if it offered any explanation.
“What about him?”
“I was hoping to make a trade.”
“A trade?” Aralyn crossed her arms against her chest. “What kind of trade?”
“He’s ex-Spector,” Apollo said. “That doesn’t happen.”
“I don’t know if the blade was any indication of my lack of patience,” Aralyn said. “But you either need to spit it out or I’m going back to bed.”
Another flash of irritation across Apollo’s handsome face, quickly replaced by the amused look in his eyes. “There’s no such thing as ex-Spector,” he explained, as if talking to a slow child. “Even agents injured in the line of duty aren’t ‘retired.’ They’re given desk jobs or assigned to backwater offices where they’re overly compensated and given a reason why they should still maintain loyalty to the cock-sucking UDA.” He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on the table. “Madigan flipped; went for the opposing team and escaped. He’ll know things. He has access to information I might find useful.”
Aralyn rolled her eyes. “So you want into the database,” she said, forcing an air of annoyance that didn’t quite mesh with the coiling nervousness in her gut. “Do you really think the UDA will allow a former Spector to access heavily-coded files? You’d be better off hiring a hacker to get you in.”
As though he’d caught her, Apollo grinned. “I didn�
�t say it was in the UDA network, now did I? Spectors are a dangerous breed to keep around. Even ex-spooks are still trained killers with many secrets. I want your word that he’ll play nice before I agree to help you.”
“You’re doing this because you have to,” Aralyn reminded him, sitting forward. “Same as us.”
“Not quite, jameela,” Apollo said, tsking at her. “If I cannot get this from your Spector, I see no reason to give you the information you’re looking for.”
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Aralyn pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. It wasn’t about loyalty to the UDA; she just knew that Caden would immediately dislike Apollo van Dien, or whatever it was his actual name was. He wouldn’t take kindly to being pressed for information, even in exchange for help in stopping Eladia and getting his father arrested. There was a small opportunity that he might agree to it, but she didn’t know how he’d react.
“You’ll have to ask him,” she answered finally. “It’s his decision… I can’t promise anything.”
Apollo stood and grabbed his mask, nodding. “I am sure he will listen to you,” he said, eyes sharp and knowing as they flickered to the wall monitor behind them. “I have watched all of the footage. I have seen how he looks at you… Like you are everything.” He put his mask back on, gave another flourishing bow, and then turned and left the room, leaving Aralyn alone.
She turned and watched the video footage again more closely, recognizing it as the moment that she’d thought Taav was going to hit her. The recording was awful, but there was no denying Caden’s brazen reaction, leaping into harm’s way when he thought she was in danger, going toe to toe with the Spector despite the fact that attacking him could have likely gotten him killed, surrounded as he was by UDA agents ashamed at their proximity to a “traitor” like him.
This is a threat.
She realized belatedly that the kidnapping hadn’t been a message for her at all. It had been for Caden.
Apollo wanted him to know that he could get to Aralyn at any time. Even when Caden was sleeping in the same room as her, only feet away.
A chill nipped at the back of her neck. Just what kind of game was this guy playing at? Just what kind of man was he, really? She turned and faced the doorway, grabbed her mask, and slipped it back over her face.
We’re in way over our heads here, she thought as she retreated back to the bunk rooms. And shit just keeps getting worse.
****
The bunks were empty of everyone but the four of them as Aralyn filled them in on her evening’s adventure. Caden looked like he was barely keeping a check on his rage but listened to the story without blowing up or condemning her once for trying not to wake him up. His acceptance of the circumstances of her unofficial kidnapping was almost more terrifying than the thought of his rage had been when she started.
Kita sat on her bed and Aralyn next to her, shotgun once more in its holster at her back. On the bunk across from them, Riordan sat with his arms crossed, and Caden leaned against the wall, staring off into the far area of the room. Once Aralyn was done telling the story―and her interpretation of the meaning behind it―he nodded, kicked off of the wall, and said, “Okay.”
“Okay?!” Kita sputtered. “This is so far from okay it’s… not okay.” Her face scrunched up as she tried, and failed, to come up with some other analogy for the situation.
“Why would Taav set us up to work with someone who would demand a favor of the UDA?” Riordan asked, surprisingly no less grumpy after he’d gotten a full night’s sleep. “I doubt that he’d want to put his organization at risk for this.”
“Exactly,” Aralyn said. “I don’t think Taav knew about this part of the bargain. Seems like our smuggling friend is trying to get something a little extra out of the deal.”
“But the threat is real. And he seems to understand that he’s got us by the balls, so to speak.” Caden shifted and frowned, eyes trained on the floor. “I’ll hear him out, but that’s all I can promise.”
“I still don’t like it,” Riordan said.
“No one does, but this is the way it’s going to be,” Caden said, brooking no argument. “Unless you think you can figure out where we might be able to get the information from―outside of talking to this asshole―then we do it Taav’s way, as much as we all don’t think it’s above board.”
Kita stood, stretched her arms high above her head and shrugged. “Let’s eat. We’re supposed to meet this creep in a couple of hours anyway, so we may as well not be hungry.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Aralyn said, standing from the bunk and following Kita toward the door.
The breakfast prices for meals were no less wallet slashing than the dinners had been, but the food was good and the eggs were fresh, as it turned out, since they kept a coop of chickens in one of the back rooms. By the time they were finished, everyone was in a relatively good mood, despite the lingering fear of yet another in a long line of dangerous liaisons. Aralyn continued to watch over her shoulder, wondering if at some point someone else would pop up and demand their attention, but they were left mercifully alone.
There were only a few hours to go until they were supposed to officially meet Apollo, but they decided to make their way over anyway, to get a good place in the dance portion of the club in case he hadn’t made it over there yet.
Though the Terra Standard Time clock read that it was only ten in the morning, the dance floor was already packed with people grinding on each other to bass-heavy music. The robotic bartender was surrounded by patrons, and the lights still strummed through the room. Aralyn wasn’t sure if the place ever actually closed. Being this far out in space, every time she looked outside, it was nighttime. It was disorienting at best, and easy to lose track of the time.
“They probably make a killing here,” she muttered, looking over the room once they’d stepped back into the higher gravity area. “Table by the back?” She turned and looked at the others.
“This guy kind of derailed our whole stealth bit,” Kita pointed out. “We could really sit anywhere at this point. He knows who we are, and he wanted to show he can get to us anywhere at any time.”
“That doesn’t mean we don’t play smart,” Caden said. “Stick to our original plans. If things go south―”
“I’ve got backup,” said Aralyn gesturing to the gun beneath her coat. “Though apart from intimidation, I don’t know what good it will do. I probably shouldn’t fire it in this station. Too much risk if it punctures a wall.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Riordan said, slipping past them and heading for a booth near the doors that led to the virtual sex den.
Kita’s eyes narrowed as she watched him go, but she didn’t say anything; just followed along after him without a word.
“That was weird,” said Aralyn once she was out of earshot.
“Who isn’t these days?” Caden replied. He put a gentle hand at the small of Aralyn’s back as they steered through the crowd of dancers and party-goers, heads swiveling to look for their mysterious kidnapper.
“No, I mean he’s being weird,” she clarified.
Caden shrugged. “More than usual?”
She fell silent, unsure of how to continue trying to explain her feeling. As they arrived at the table, the three of them sat without speaking, letting the music of the club fill what would have otherwise been awkward silence, but Caden remained standing, his eyes distant and glassy.
“Hello? Terra to Caden?” said Kita, waving her arm.
Caden blinked. “Oh, sorry. I must have drifted for a minute.”
“You all right?” Aralyn asked.
He nodded and took a seat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
They didn’t have to wait much longer before Apollo made his appearance, dressed in the same mask and clothes that he’d worn the night before. Likely, Aralyn realized, it was so she would be able to recognize him. She didn’t take him for the sort to play at bravado; he must have felt very confident in their coming
“trade.”
Aralyn tilted her chin in his direction. “He’s here.”
Once at the table, Apollo swept into another flourishing bow before standing. And although she couldn’t see his face below the mask, she could practically feel the radiance of his smile behind the tragic frown.
“Let’s talk, shall we?” he said, grabbing a chair from a nearby table and flipping it around before taking a seat. “I am certain that our lovely friend here told you all about our… discussion last night.” His face, pointed in Caden’s direction, gave away nothing.
For some reason, that made Aralyn feel more nervous; like he was down to business somehow. She’d spent the majority of her life the last several months being the hunter, getting their punches in as often as possible even though Eladia had gotten close once or twice. It was strange to feel like she was being hunted again. She squirmed in her seat.
Without warning, Caden leapt from the booth, grabbed ahold of Apollo’s throat, and lifted him off of his feet before slamming him to the ground. The informant let out a strange, twisted squeak as the air left his lungs. Frantically, he wrapped his hands around Caden’s arm, trying desperately to loosen his hold.
“She did,” Caden said, his voice a low growl.
No one at the table spoke, and Aralyn’s jaw hung open so wide her mouth was aching. Where the hell did the golden boy go? she wondered briefly.
The bouncers by the back hall took several steps forward, but Apollo held up a hand, gesturing that it was okay. He let go of Caden’s arm and held his own hands by his head, clearly signaling that he wasn’t going to fight.
Caden loosened his grip and stood, extending a hand to help Apollo up. Nervously, Apollo eyed him, but slowly took the hand and was yanked back into a standing position. He righted his crooked mask and his jacket and cleared his throat.
“Well, now that the macho theatrics are out of the way,” he said, “shall we get down to business?”
“What is it that you want?” Caden asked, taking his seat.
Apollo tilted his head again. “I want to know that we have an agreement first.”
Grand Cross Page 13
