by Helen Scott
“How do you decide what bounties you bring in,” I asked, “and what bounties are worth bringing to Canada?”
“Oh there we are,” he said. “I hurt your pride.”
“Says the man too proud to have any friends in Nightstone, he’d rather get murdered. I guess you’ll be staggering around bleeding out with your dignity intact.”
He stared at me for a second as if he were picturing the same sad end I’d seen over and over, and I thought maybe I was getting through to him.
He huffed. “It’s not pride.”
For a second, I thought he was going to tell me something real, from the way he looked at me. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over my cheekbone, his gaze intense on mine.
“I’m just trying not to repeat my mistakes,” he said, every word dropping like a weight into my chest.
“You are a real asshole, you know that, Bane?”
“I know.” He settled back against the cinderblocks once again. “And you must be a real something yourself, to be this intent on chasing down an asshole.”
“I just want to get a decent night’s sleep. When you’re so determined to get yourself killed, your ugly face haunts my dreams.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Ugly, hm? You didn’t think that before.”
And the truth was, his face was still gorgeous, with his high, chiseled cheekbones and that determined jaw. Even the scar that ran through his eyebrow was a pleasing disruption of the symmetry of his face.
“It’s not your features that make you ugly, Bane,” I told him.
He nodded. “Does that mean you’re finally ready to shut up and the two of us can get some sleep?”
I gave him a long look. He kept pushing, trying to get me to give up on ferreting out his story. I knew lies rolled off Bane’s tongue easily enough when he was chasing down a bounty so I wondered why he even bothered to try so hard to avoid answering my questions. “I’m not snuggling with you, Bane. Sorry. I know you desperately need love--”
He rolled his eyes.
“Speaking of. Where’s your mom now?”
“Don’t be a jerk about my mom.” His tone was mild but he settled back against his pillow, sliding down on the bed, cocking one powerful, tattooed arm behind his head. The movement pushed his t-shirt up his chiseled abs, revealing a few inches of taut lower abs and the beginning of his dark happy trail. His long black lashes drifted shut, as if he were going to block me out.
Good luck with that, Bane.
“She’s in Canada, isn’t she?”
He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing quickened just a little. “You’re obsessed with Canada, aren’t you? Is it the maple syrup or the Mounties that turn you on?”
“It’s the freedom,” I said drily.
“I hear you, sister. Can’t even get a little peace and quiet in your own room around this place. Freedom would be nice.”
“Why’d you start running supes to Canada?” I pressed. “Who was first?”
He sighed and opened his eyes, straightening up which brought us nose-to-nose. “You really think you’re going to find some big secret that proves I had a good reason for turning you in, Nas? That I had no choice? Maybe I was just bored with you, and it was an easy way to move on.”
His words felt like a slap, especially when we were intimately close, close enough to kiss.
And faster than thought, I slapped him.
I’d never slapped anyone before in my life--I was more the kind of girl to throw punches--and my palm stung as soon as his head jerked sideways. The sound rang out in the quiet cell.
Bane’s head must be so goddamn hard that he hurt me back, because my wrist ached.
He cupped his chin loosely, rubbing his fingers across his cheek. “Not bad, Nas.” His gaze caught on my fingers absently rubbing my aching wrist, then he caught my wrist in his hand. “Next time, lock your wrist. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time,” I promised him.
“Good.” The word fell flat and heavy as a stone.
“Maybe I should just let you live what’s left of your miserable life. You know the only time I can relax at all is when you’re locked in your cell and I know no one can get at you, but then I still can’t sleep because of the damned visions.”
I shouldn’t tell him all that, but he looked at me with something rueful in his eyes, no matter how cold his face.
“And even then,” I said, “now I’ve started having visions where you even die in here, where you should be safe. Even while I’m with you.”
Something flickered in his stone gaze.
There was something he was afraid of, and I pressed in on it. “But no one can get in here at night. Just like I’m trapped with you, everyone is trapped in their cells.”
“Sure, Nas,” he said lightly. “But the guards can walk freely.”
“They don’t, though,” I said. The guards never left their places within the walls; they never walked through Nightstone.
But they could.
Suddenly, it seemed darker in the cell. I frowned, trying to figure out what was going on, but Bane was already easing quietly off the mattress, moving with his feline, predatorial grace.
“Those were the lasers turning off,” he whispered. “Get under the bed, Nas.”
I knew from my experience when he fought that shifter that I needed to get out of the way. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight too, if Bane needed me. I rolled off the bed onto the hard cement floor, then slid under the metal bed frame.
All I could see were Bane’s feet beside the bed, but I heard a footfall down the hall. The mattress shifted above, just faintly, as Bane slid back into the bed. He must be feigning sleep.
For a few long seconds, the room was silent. I tried to still my breathing, afraid someone would overhear me; every breath suddenly seemed so loud, as if I couldn’t draw enough air into my lungs and needed to gasp.
Then the door creaked open.
24
Bane
Goddamn Nas. I’d tried so hard to keep her away from me, to protect her from being anywhere near me when things eventually went to shit.
I should’ve known better. The girl had a heart of gold and a head full of crazy. I was never going to succeed in manipulating her out of my life, and out of danger.
Now I had to succeed in keeping her alive, though.
No guns were allowed within Nightstone itself, not even for the guards. It would have been tough to get one past the security protocols. So this guy would probably have to get close.
I could feel him moving toward me, even with my eyes closed. Every sense was attuned to the bastard sneaking into my room.
My heart was beating faster, but only because of Nas, damn it. I was jumpy because I had her to protect.
Otherwise, I didn’t give a damn. I was useless now for running supes up into Canada; Black Guard was on my ass and even once I made it out of here, my work was over. I’d only endanger any supes I tried to help.
Instead, I was supposed to be bringing down the warden.
I didn’t really care about that, though. If I had one last mission, it was destroying Nightstone before my own light went out.
I felt the movement in the air as the guy raised his nightstick, probably preparing to shatter my skull while I slept.
I rolled to one side just as it whipped down past my head and slammed into the pillow. The metal bed frame cracked loudly, the sound resounding in the room, as I tackled him around the waist. He hadn’t expected my attack and the two of us slammed into the cement.
I was in too close for him to use the baton effectively, but he raised it and tried to slam it down into my shoulder. Pain tingled through my left shoulder down my arm, making it hard to grip him, but I was already shifting my weight. I managed to punch him across the face, and his head slammed back into the concrete with a thunk.
He was already rolling, the two of us fighting for control. He clipped me in the
head with the baton, but clumsily, and I managed to get in another good punch. I tried to get control over the baton.
He managed to throw me and he hit me with the baton once, twice. I threw up my arm to protect myself and felt something break in my forearm as he slammed the night stick into it. The pain was intense, washing the world red, but I didn’t stop moving. I slammed into him as hard as I could, knocking him against the wall. I only had one good arm, but I knocked the baton loose. It hit the cement floor. But I didn’t dare lunge for it, I had to keep him pinned against the wall. I got my fingers around his throat and began to squeeze.
He managed to get hold of my broken arm, though, his fingers probing into splintered bone, and I bit back a scream as the world reeled around me. Bile rose in the back of my throat.
Then Nas was there, scrambling for the baton.
She hit him with it, the first strike clumsy, and I stumbled back as his grip released. then she hit him again, catching him across the face. Blood sprayed across us both.
“Stop, Nas,” I said, grabbing for her wrist. The protective urge that took me over was quicker than my logic; this guy would have killed me and if he had seen Nas, he would have killed her too.
Someone had to kill him. But I didn’t want it to be her.
She threw a look at me over her shoulder--like she just might hit me too while she was at it--and he came off the wall, lunging at her.
She slammed the nightstick into his head, and he crumpled to the floor.
“What, Bane?” she demanded in a hiss. Blood was splattered across her face and in her hair, and her eyes were wide with fury.
Protective fury. She’d been protecting me.
I just stared at her, regretting...everything. From letting her in tonight, to shutting her out before.
I didn’t know what to say, so I crouched and felt for his pulse. There wasn’t one.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they won’t want to acknowledge a dead guard, because they won’t want to admit what he was doing in here,” I said. “I’m going to take him to the trash. We need to wipe our prints and clean up the cell.”
She raised her brows. “We? There’s a we now?”
“For now,” I said, knowing how much it would piss her off. “While we clean up your little mess.”
“He came to kill you.”
“Should have let him,” I told her, heaving the body up onto my shoulders. Somehow people always felt heavier when the life had fled.
“I realize that now,” she snapped.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave her alone in here, in case someone else came after me. “Come on, I’ll tell you a story.”
“I hate you,” she told me.
“I wish you did, then you’d leave me alone.” I carried the body toward the door, then stopped, turning. There was no way to get a good look at his face now, it was nothing but gore. “Do you think this is the guy you saw in your visions?”
She reached into his blood-soaked pocket and gingerly drew out his ID card. She frowned at the photo. “Yeah. Maybe. You still shouldn’t get too comfortable.”
“Mm. That’s exactly what I’d been feeling here in Nightstone too: all cozy.”
We dumped the body. I debated keeping the ID card, because then we could move freely--until it was shut off.
As the two of us were scrubbing the floor of the cell, which wasn’t covered in nearly as much blood as it should have been for a death blow to the head, she said, “So tell me that story. It’s the least you can do.”
That was true, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
“When I left the Marines, Black Guard tried to recruit me, but I wasn’t interested,” I said. “My own mom was a supe--I wasn’t going to chase them down for a living.”
“Was that part of why they wanted you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “That and what I did in the Marines.”
“What did you do in the Marines?”
“You bought yourself one story.”
She sat back on her heels, a bloody rag in her hand and exasperation on her face. “Do I literally have to kill someone around here to get you to open up to me? You are impossible, Bane.”
“Anyway, my stepfather kept getting worse and worse. My mom tried to leave one night with my sister and brother. He went after her and almost killed her in front of them. Beat her half to death. It was the first time he ever hit her, and once he started, he wouldn't stop.”
My voice came out flat. I couldn’t tell the story with any feeling, or I’d lose control completely.
“I wasn’t there,” I said, fixedly not looking at Nas, because I could feel her studying me, and I could almost feel her pity. That was why Nas was always in danger here--she couldn’t even keep hating me, the person who put her here. “But she called me after. My sister and brother were frantic, crying, and so was she. She’d used magic to kill him. Self-defense, but it’s not like that matters, not for a Supe.”
“Since I have supe blood, no one could say for sure I hadn’t done it. I helped her clean up, but just in case anyone ever found out what happened to him, I put in my own clues too to make it look like it was me. Canada still had extradition with the US then, before it became such a refuge for supes. I wanted to make sure no one ever came after her.”
“Then I got her and the kids across the border. I’d done a pretty good job hiding his body, but once they found him, Black Guard came after me. They said if I didn’t want them looking into his death--into my mom or worse, the kids, they might pin it on the kids--then I’d better join the Black Guard.”
“So you did,” she said.
“So I did,” I admitted. “And I was really good at my job.”
“Not something to brag about in here.”
“Not something to brag about anywhere,” I said.
“How did you go from that to running supes into Canada?” she asked, then her eyes widened. “Were you doing it the whole time? Right under their noses?”
“You wanted to know why I’m here in Nightstone,” I said, instead of answering her question. I didn’t want to talk about my history any more than I had to. “Well, that’s why. I was Black Guard, and when Black Guard goes bad, they send us here. They say it's because of all our knowledge and expertise, that we’re too dangerous for human prisons.”
But really, it was because being surrounded by supes was the ultimate punishment, and they wanted us to know what was going to happen when we crossed the line.
“That explains why they could send you to Nightstone,” she said, “but why are you really here? Does Wentworth have friends that were able to get you locked away?”
An edge of vulnerability threaded her voice, even though she’d shown tonight how kickass she truly was. She felt guilty that I was here.
“I just couldn’t stay away from you, Nas,” I said, and her face tightened with frustration. She knew I was making a joke of our predicament.
She tossed the bleach-soaked rag into the bag and gathered it all up. “I’m taking this to the trash.”
I rose to my feet to go with her. The cell should be clean now.
“I don’t know where the hell you’re going,” she said. “You made it clear you don’t want me anywhere around you. You don’t want to tell me anything.”
“Another guard could come looking,” I said. “Until I can get you to Ambrose or Christian, you and I need to stay close.”
Her brows arched, and I knew the way I’d just phrased that would piss her off.
“Let’s dump that,” I said, “then both of us need a shower and clean clothes.”
“I’m not showering with you for safety,” she warned me.
I had a feeling I could persuade her, though.
25
Nasima
Bane watched me dump bloody water down the sink and toss the dirty rags into the laundry pile, covering them with a few items that were already in there so they weren't as obvious. Every movement was tracked by him, his gaze moving over me like
his fingers across my skin. Every part of me felt tight and sensitive under his watchful stare.
I swear the man knew what he was doing to me, and that's why he kept going. He wanted to drive me crazy. As though slapping him and killing someone all in one night wasn't enough. Not that I regretted either. I just wish I knew for sure that the guard I killed was the guard I saw in my visions.
Part of me knew the only way to find out was to go to sleep and see if I saw the visions of Bane's death again. I didn't want to though, I wanted him to live even if he pissed me off to no end. There was nothing that scared me as much as the visions of death that I had of him, and the couple I'd had before of Ambrose and Christian.
My heart hurt every time I woke up after those. I didn't want to feel that way anymore. I just wanted a restful night's sleep for once. That seemed to happen only when I was recovering from another nasty injury so, yeah, not really wanting that to happen again just so I could sleep.
As I finished cleaning up the supplies we'd used, putting them all back in exactly the same positions I'd found them I steeled myself for what had to come next.
Showering.
No sex.
Just clean bodies.
No ogling Bane's naked and hot as fuck form.
Just cleaning my own body.
I could do it. I had to do it. If I didn't then Bane would be a smug asshole about it and I couldn't take that, not after everything that had happened tonight.
"Shall we?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
I gave him a sharp nod and followed him to the showers on our floor. There were some prisoners awake, and I knew we were being watched as we made our way to the bathrooms. None of them said anything though. I wasn't sure whether it was because of the fact that we were out and clearly up to something, or the fact that there was blood splattered all over us, well, mostly me.
The open shower area was one of the things I hated most about Nightstone. I mean would stalls and plastic curtains really have cost that much more? Then again I wondered if it was a safety thing, after all, shower curtains could easily become a weapon in a determined person's hands. I pushed the thought away.
