I sighed dramatically. “If you insist. But I expect a complete performance, later. Opening act, the big Broadway show, and encores. Plenty of them.”
He chuckled, grabbing my hand and lifting it to kiss the inside of my wrist. “As many as you want.”
“I’ll hold you to it.” Now, if we could just find a little nookie time in between our life-and-death showdowns.
We went back into the living room. I laced on my boots while Price roamed restlessly.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” I said. “I want to clean up in the bathroom before I go down.”
He just gave me a “get real” look and said, “Hurry up.”
I went into the bathroom and started gathering up my discarded clothing. I made the mistake of looking at myself in the mirror. I’d forgotten to comb my hair. I looked like a drowned yeti.
I attacked the mess with a brush, wincing as I yanked out tangles. It wasn’t like I didn’t need a haircut with the way my escaped magic had mowed it. Emphasis on cut.
I couldn’t find any way to make it look good. Different lengths flopped all along the top and left side of my head, and then I had a place on the other side where I was pretty much bald in a streak that ran from my part to my ear. Why Price had kissed me instead of rolling on the floor laughing, I’ll never know. I yanked it all up into a ponytail, which hid a lot of the damage, and made a mental note to find a hat to wear for the next six months.
I finished gathering up my dirty clothing and headed into Patti’s room to dump them into her hamper. She’d rather wash them than let them molder in my hamper. Who knew when I’d get to washing here again.
I twisted the handle on the door and shoved it open with the tip of my toe. The gloom inside didn’t smother the rustling sound and small thump following my entrance.
“Someone there?” I asked. As soon as I said it, I realized that a) it was stupid to ask since anyone who shouldn’t be there wasn’t exactly likely to answer except with an attack, and b) it had to be Cristina. Before I could do or say anything else, Price yanked me out of the way and slapped on the light switch. He had his gun out.
“It’s Cristina,” I yelled before he could go into full Rambo mode.
The tension in his back didn’t relax at all. “Wait here.”
Gun raised to eye level, he stepped inside, sweeping from side to side. The bed was rumpled, but no sign of Cristina. She must have slid off the other side. She was probably under the bed by now. I couldn’t tell. The bed skirt offered good camo.
I followed Price into the room and went toward the bed.
“Cristina? It’s okay. I’m Riley and I’m with Price. We’re the ones who rescued you from Ocho. You can come out.”
No answer. I exchanged a glance at Price, who still hadn’t holstered his gun. He started toward the bed, and I held up a restraining hand. Cristina had already been through too much, and we didn’t need to add to it. Not just from Ocho, but coming to the diner and getting jumped by another set of goons. The girl had to be going out of her gourd. Anyway, I was certain it was her, even if Price wasn’t.
“We aren’t going to hurt you,” I called out in a reassuring voice.
When she still didn’t respond, I shrugged at Price. “She doesn’t want to talk to us. That’s fine.” I faced the bed. “I’m going to put some laundry in the hamper and then we’ll go downstairs. I’m sure your family will be here soon.”
I deposited my dirty clothes and towels, and then motioned Price out. He waited until I cleared the door and followed me through, pulling it shut behind us.
“It might not be her,” he growled as soon as the latch snicked.
“Who else could it be?”
“You’re willing to bet Patti’s life on it?”
My breath hissed between my teeth. He knew exactly which buttons to push. All of a sudden, I wanted to go back in and ransack the room. I took a breath and let it out. The logic hadn’t changed in the last two seconds, and it was as sound now as then. I gave a firm shake of my head.
“Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”
He gave me a long look and then nodded and holstered his gun.
“Give me a minute,” I said and returned to my bedroom. I pulled a plastic box out from under my bed. It was full of all sorts of odds and ends—Legos, glass beads, coins, rocks, bolts, tire weights—basically whatever innocuous object I could find that would hold magic. Stone and metal worked really well. Plastic was pretty good. Cloth and paper are pretty much like pouring chicken noodle soup into a napkin.
I dug through and found a leather necklace with a shark-tooth pendant. I’d found it in the street one time while walking. I grabbed it, and then a stretchy pink plastic bracelet, and a couple of quarters. I slid the latter two into my socks. I’d be able to activate them when I needed them and wouldn’t spend them in the meantime.
I slid the bracelet onto my wrist and held the necklace out to Price, who’d once again shadowed me. I guess I was not to be trusted out of his sight. That would probably annoy me to no end later, but at the moment it made me feel warm and gooey inside. If only because he’d been avoiding me so hard the last few weeks. That, and I liked seeing how he worried for me.
“Can you put this on me?”
He took it, turning it in his fingers. “Interesting fashion statement. I particularly like the way it goes with that god-awful dime-store bracelet.”
“They’re nulls,” I said. No duh. Like he hadn’t figured that out. “People don’t pay attention to the cheap and the ugly. They figure if you’re going to make a null, you’re going to put it into something pretty or really substantial. Anyway, I can’t afford a lot of bling and this works just fine.”
I don’t know why I felt the need to defend myself. My methods had kept me alive and out of enemy hands my whole life. It’s not like I was embarrassed.
He grinned at me and turned me so that he could fasten the clasp at my neck. “Remind me to buy you something blingy. Something with a lot of sparkle like your eyes.” His fingers brushed my nape and a delicious chill ran through me.
He finished and settled his hands on my shoulders. His lips pressed against my skin. He gave a little lick, and my lady parts all clenched up tight with need. I tipped my neck to the side to give him better access. He took advantage, nuzzling and nibbling up my neck to nip my earlobe. “I’d like to see you in diamonds and sapphires and nothing else.”
I about melted. “You’re not playing fair.”
I felt him smile against my skin.
“I know.”
“Cristina is in the next room and your brother is downstairs.”
“That didn’t bother you a few minutes ago.”
“You’re starting fires you can’t put out.”
A chuckle. “Am I?”
“You know you are.” I twisted out of his grip and shook a finger at him. “Be careful. Turnabout is fair play.”
He traced my cheek with a finger. “All you’ve got to do is walk into a room to tease me.”
“Then lucky for you, I’m on my way out of this one. No teasing at all.” I stuck my tongue out and headed for the door, swishing my hips seductively. I was grateful for Price’s playfulness. He’d found a way to lighten what had been a harrowing day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Touray was waiting downstairs, and I hadn’t any doubts that whatever he had to say would be worse than bad. His tension, his posture, his eyes all had the look of a man about to start a war.
Chapter 16
Gregg
GREGG WATCHED the flow of people through the diner, examining each and mentally cataloging them. He didn’t see any threats, but trouble rarely made a habit of announcing itself. Tyrell’s men certainly hadn’t.
He scowled. How had they tracked him in dreamspace? That question worried him most of all. T
he ability to travel, to be where he wanted without warning, was his best weapon.
His mind crowded with things he needed to do. He grabbed a napkin and reached for a pen in his pocket. He didn’t have one.
Riley’s friend Patti came zipping out from behind the dining counter like a miniature tornado. She handed out drinks to another table, then paused in front of his.
She thunked down an oversized mug. “Drink that.”
He eyed it. “Thanks. You got a pen?”
She pulled one out of her apron pocket and dropped it, then skittered off. Gregg reached for the cup. Coffee steamed inside. Dark roasted and black as sin, just the way he liked it. He took a sip and blinked. It was laced with a healthy dose of whiskey. He took another sip and smiled in reluctant appreciation.
Just then, Patti jogged past, tossing small pad of paper onto the table. The woman was twenty-five pounds of dynamite packed into a five-pound canister. The air around her practically crackled with the energy she gave off.
Gregg started writing notes and lists of what he had to do and who he had to contact, and what he’d need from Tyrell. He glanced outside. Sooner or later Randall and Bruno, his two new knee-breaking bodyguards, would show up. They’d caught him here once; the diner would be one of the top places on their list to look for him.
The thought made him itch. Tyrell had sent a team after Clay and Riley, and once the bastard had a hold of them, Gregg doubted he’d let them go, especially once he figured out Clay’s talent. Gregg couldn’t allow that.
He drummed his fingers on the table, and then made his decision. He took his phone out and punched a number. It rang once. The other side picked up, but no one spoke.
“I’m in,” he said.
“Good,” Vernon said. “I’ll be in touch soon.” He paused. “How is my daughter?”
Gregg stiffened, scowling. “Why ask me?”
“She does not care to speak to me and my other children refuse to speak of her.”
“You’re a dreamer. Take it out of their heads.”
“I’d prefer to avoid that. Since Riley is attached to your brother, I assume you know how she’s doing.”
Smooth, but something in the explanation sounded off. Especially from a man who’d tried to kill Riley. He shouldn’t be bothered about rummaging in her siblings’ heads for information. “She’s fine,” Gregg said finally, unable to pin down exactly what was bothering him. “Don’t ask me about her again.”
He hung up and dropped his cell onto the table. Riley wasn’t going to like him allying with Vernon. In fact, she was going to be seriously pissed. That meant Clay was going to be unhappy. Too damned bad. They’d both have to get over it and get with the program. Too much was at stake. He couldn’t let Tyrell take the city or run his life. Still . . . this business was going to be tricky. He didn’t trust Vernon any more than Tyrell. If he was going to come out on top, he’d have to play both sides against the middle and hope everything didn’t blow up in his face.
First things first: take control of Savannah’s organization within the next seventy-two hours. That was good for him whether or not Tyrell and Vernon were involved.
He was on the phone with one of his top lieutenants—Mark Kinsey—a few minutes later, when Patti deposited a plate of biscuits and gravy in front of him, with a rib eye and a crispy mountain of hashbrowns.
He held the receiver away from his mouth and frowned. “I didn’t order this.”
“Take it or leave it,” Patti said, already moving away.
Gregg watched her flit away, an unfamiliar bemused expression sliding over his face.
“What’s wrong with you?” Riley asked, sliding into the booth opposite him. Clay followed, sliding his arm around her. He hadn’t done much more than wash his face and hands. She’d showered. Her hair was still wet beneath her black knit cap. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and a snaking cut wriggled across her forehead and down her cheek.
“How did you get that?”
She touched the wound and shrugged. “Craziest thing. Electric eel came out of the drain when I was going to the bathroom.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
She just gave him a shit-eating grin and bent over the table, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “In case you didn’t get the message, it’s none of your damned business.”
He clamped his teeth together, his jaw knotting. “Everything about you is my business. As long as you’re with Clay.” He looked at his brother, but Clay shook his head, refusing to interfere in the argument.
“Doesn’t mean you get to paw through my underwear drawer,” she retorted, then nudged her chin in the direction of his phone. “Aren’t you talking to someone?” She gave him another one of those grins.
The look he shot her should have sent her cowering, but she only smiled wider. Gregg concentrated on his call.
“I’m here,” he confirmed. “Got questions?”
“No, sir,” Kinsey said. “I’ll pull all the intel we can get and start moving personnel into place.”
“I want a briefing in two hours.”
He hung up and set his phone aside before digging into his food, wanting to bite someone—specifically Riley—but that wasn’t an option.
“You going to tell us what happened to you?” Clay asked finally, after Gregg had plowed through half of the biscuits and gravy and Patti had dropped off a carafe of coffee and a pitcher of fresh cream.
Gregg swallowed, washing the bite down with the whiskey-laced coffee. He set his cup down. “Not here,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me how you got out of that hellhole?”
Clay gave him a long look and then recounted the story, though he never explained Riley’s whiplike wound. As he spoke, he snugged Riley closer until Patti delivered heaping plates of pancakes, omelets, hashbrowns, sausages and bacon, along with a bowl of fruit.
“That should do the trick,” she declared, surveying the bounty with satisfaction. She looked at Riley. “Don’t even think of walking out of here without talking to me, girlfriend.”
“Not a chance,” Riley agreed.
“Better not be.”
Once again, Patti scuttled off. Gregg marveled that she could walk on the stilts she called shoes, much less dance through the customers carrying armloads of food. He scanned the crowd. Mostly first responders and cops. They looked haggard and pissed beneath a grime of dirt and smoke.
“This place is doing a good thing,” he observed.
“That surprises you?” Riley asked.
He considered the question. “A little. There’s a lot of money walking out the door. It’s hard to afford.”
“People have to help each other how they can. First responders are willing to sacrifice their lives. Feeding them is how Patti and Ben do their part.”
“They are unusual.”
Riley sipped her coffee and set it aside. “Not really. People in the city take care of each other more than you think. You just don’t see it from where you sit.”
Gregg’s brows lifted. “Where I sit?”
“Up in your Tyet tower. You have no idea what real people’s lives are like.”
Unfortunately, she was right. He was insulated from the way ordinary people lived by his money and the need to protect himself. Riley practically lived on the streets. She worked for the people. “Maybe you can teach me.”
She lifted a brow at him. “Me?” She shook her head. “Try actually talking to people, walking around, shopping in grocery stores and shoe stores and hardware stores. Go to the post office, the coffee shop, and the mall. You know, the natural habitat of the native species.”
That shit-eating grin was back. Gregg’s own lips twitched in response. He supposed he deserved that.
“You sure you want to keep her?” he asked Clay.
“Have to. Can’t just let her loose on the unsuspecting world,” his brother replied.
Riley elbowed him in the side. “You’ll pay for that.”
The smile Clay gave her was intimate and possessive. “Promises, promises.”
Their interaction made Gregg smile. She was good for Clay. He suppressed a sigh. Part of him envied their connection. What would it be like to trust a woman like that? To have her so devoted to you she’d literally lay down her life for you? Inwardly he snorted. He had a whole city depending on him. He didn’t need a girlfriend getting underfoot. But Riley wasn’t just a “girlfriend,” was she? He was starting to think that if soulmates existed, she was Clay’s. The two were bound together practically on a cellular level, or so it seemed. Crazy how fast that had happened. A few months ago, they didn’t even know each other.
The thought gave him a pang. He’d never had to share his brother before. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
Up until around three months ago, he and Clay had been as close as they had ever been. Things with Savannah and the FBI had started heating up, and Gregg had pressured Clay to leave the police force and join his organization full time. Clay had dug in his heels, unwilling to give up what he considered his calling. He finally relented enough to act as an enforcer for Gregg, but he picked and chose his jobs, never taking on anything that he found morally repulsive. Right up until Riley, and then Clay had sacrificed his career as a cop for her without a moment’s hesitation. He’d never done anything like that for Gregg.
“What do you two have planned, now?”
They exchanged a look. Riley’s expression was slightly pained, while Clay’s was forbidding. Gregg tried not to let their wordless communication bother him. It did, however, underscore that Clay had a split allegiance, now.
“Riley needs rest,” Clay said. “I want her to see Maya, too. As soon as possible.” He frowned at her as expecting protest. He got it.
She rolled her eyes. “Maya isn’t going to be able to do anything. And I don’t need rest if you don’t.”
Shades of Memory Page 21
