A muscle worked in Digger’s jaw. “People are as sorry as the day is long. And if he didn’t kill and torture that bitch for doing all that to him, believe me he’s a better man than I ever was, cause I would have cut her throat and made her son watch her bleed out at my feet.”
A shiver went down her spine at his vivid description. But she understood. He was right. And at the moment, she wanted to help him do it. How could anyone be so wrong . . . ? How could they squander something she’d sell her soul to have?
That kind of loyalty and love couldn’t be bought or bartered or demanded. It could only be given, and it was a rare, rare thing.
What a stupid bitch . . . and she didn’t use that language lightly. But in this case, there was no other way to phrase her feelings.
Digger drew a ragged breath. “Sorry to be so morbid in front of you, Shahara, but injustice has always sat ill with me. My nephew is a damned good man and has never deserved the misery life has put him through. It sickens me to see him keep paying for things he didn’t do. I just wish someone other than me could see that. Just once.”
She well understood those sentiments.
It put her own life in a terrifying perspective and she couldn’t believe she’d ever complained about anything other than Gaelin—that’s what Syn’s ex-wife deserved. Someone like him, another worthless user who preyed on people, tore apart their dreams and left them shattered.
And Digger was right. Syn was a better man than even she was. Cause she’d hunted down Gaelin once she was trained, and had killed him for beating and raping her. She’d told herself it was to keep him from doing it to another teenage girl. That she did it to keep Caillen from ruining his life because he would have killed him had he ever found him.
But inside, she knew the real truth. She’d done it for vengeance. She’d wanted him to know the horror and degradation he’d given her. To beg her for her mercy while she took none on him.
To be fair, in the end, she was a little better than him. At least she hadn’t laughed at his pain.
What’s the matter, baby? You want some more of what I got? Let me show you what a real man can do.
That mocking endearment. It’s why she still couldn’t stand for anyone to call her baby, especially in that patronizing tone he’d used. She’d only been a scared child . . . afraid that he’d leave her and go to her sisters, who were sleeping at her condo, and do to them what he was doing to her. He’d relished every hour he’d tortured her.
Until then, she’d fancied herself in love with him. And when she’d asked him why he’d done it . . .
I take what I want, baby. That’s what a man does. You done gave me all your money. You want me nice. Get some more and come see me. He’d tossed her torn clothes at her. Now get out. You call the enforcers on me, and I promise you I’ll see you and those other little whore sisters of yours in the ground.
At seventeen, she’d been forced to walk home with no money, in torn clothes. Bleeding and hurt. No one had even stopped to ask her if she needed help. They’d only stared at her or hurried away as if afraid her condition might rub off on them. Meanwhile, because she didn’t have money and couldn’t be treated for it, she’d lost her ability to have children that day.
And she’d lost a whole lot more . . .
That was why she’d killed him. The other reasons only made it easier for her to swallow that dark side of her personality that she wanted to pretend didn’t exist.
So she knew exactly where Syn was coming from. What she didn’t know was how he could forgive either of them.
How he could forgive her.
“How old was Paden when . . .”
“Seven when Sheridan left. He graduated from school last year. Wouldn’t see Sheridan even though he tried, but he’s taking all the money Sheridan sends him for his prestigious university classes.” He curled his lip. “Kid ain’t never held a job a day in his life while he lives off Sheridan’s trust fund. Worthless little bastard . . .”
He sighed. “But there’s nothing I can do and, as Sheridan says, it ain’t none of my business what he does with his kid.” He rose to his feet and stood before her, arms akimbo. “By the way, do you know how many times I watched him get beat protecting little Talia? He weren’t no bigger than my knee and he’d stand against his father who was even taller than Sher is now. Sheridan would hold up his little fists and stand like a man while his Indie bounced him off furniture and walls until he lost consciousness.” His eyes turned dull, sad. “I never understood how a father could hurt his children so.”
Grimacing at the image, she thought about the photograph she’d found of Syn and Talia in his prayer box. Even though he’d protected his sister didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of hurting someone else. Caillen protected the three of them and she couldn’t even begin to count how many women he’d treated like dirt.
All the people he’d lied to and the laws he’d broken . . .
“How can you be so sure he wouldn’t have killed Kiara Zamir?”
“I told you, I know that boy. I’ve seen him walk through the fires of hell and I know every scar it cut into him. He ain’t never been mean. Pissed off a lot, but never mean. He ain’t my brother.”
Shahara sat back, her mind whirling with all the new information she’d learned about Syn.
And she’d thought it would be so simple when she first took the contract. C.I. Syn: Cold-blooded criminal. Pure and simple.
But that wasn’t the man she’d found. And the more she learned, the further from that he became.
Digger let out a long breath as he took her barely touched plate from her and walked it to the kitchen. “Well, I’ve said probably more than I ought to, and I’m sure it’d anger him to know what I’ve done.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late so I guess I ought to lay these old bones down for a little sleep.” He moved to a corner and started making a pallet on the floor near his desk.
“What are you doing?”
“Making my bed.”
Guilt consumed her. She couldn’t let a man of his age sleep on the floor. He looked so frail, she doubted he’d last the night.
“Why don’t you take the sofa?”
“And let a lady sleep on the floor? I wouldn’t hear of it. Just cause I’m old don’t make me weak or less of a man.”
Shahara bit her lip. Where else could he sleep?
“Why don’t you sleep with Syn?”
He snorted. “He’d have a fit if he woke up to my old body lying next to him. Not that I’d blame him, mind you. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t want to sleep with me neither.”
That just left one option.
It was scary and unnerving, but it was the only one she could think of.
“Then, why don’t I sleep with Syn? You can take the sofa.”
He hesitated. “You sure about that?”
No.
She nodded.
He smiled warmly as relief shone in his eyes. “All right. I must admit I like that better. Just follow me and I’ll show you back.” He took her down a narrow hallway, past the tiny kitchen, to the small bedroom at the end of the hall.
Shahara glanced around the minuscule room which barely accommodated the bed. She’d thought she could sleep on the floor in here, but one look and she knew she’d have to sleep under the bed for that. Except it had a drawer there and, as small as she was, she didn’t think she could sleep in that.
“Good night.” Digger turned and left her alone.
Shahara sighed. What should she do?
Syn slept completely silent and still. If not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest she might have worried.
Moonlight from three moons lit the room with a soft glow, spilling over Syn and giving her an ample view of his face.
And other attributes.
Mesmerized, she watched the play of moonlight in the dips of his washboard stomach, and across his hands . . . He had a brightly colored tattoo that ran from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.
It was of a sword covered in blood and with words written in an alphabet she didn’t know.
Did she dare crawl into bed with him? A strange wave of excitement poured through her at the thought. What would be the harm? She’d shared beds with Caillen all her young life.
Caillen is your brother.
Good point.
With that thought, she attempted to stretch out on the floor. She bumped her knee into the bed frame. Cursing from the pain, she moved her legs only to smack her head against the small chest of drawers.
Oh, this was so not working. “Ouch,” she snarled, cupping the pain at the back of her skull. The room was just too small.
Aggravated, she rose. “Okay, Syn. You stay on your side of the bed and I promise I won’t beat you.”
That said, she pulled back the covers and lay down beside him, keeping her body rigid and as far away from his as she could.
Why couldn’t the bed be larger?
But after several minutes of his not moving, she began to relax. And before she knew it, she fell asleep too.
Syn came awake slowly, the remnant of pain hanging on the fringes of his sleep. He felt infinitely better. The deep throbbing ache in his head had subsided to a dull, manageable ache, and he could actually take a deep breath without wincing.
Definitely an improvement.
As he started to move, he became aware of a soft form pressed up against his naked body. One that smelled of lilac and spring.
But that didn’t make sense.
Opening his eyes, he stared into the startled face of Shahara. Her large gold eyes were wide and her face flushed from embarrassment.
Damn, that was the best sight he’d ever seen. And this moment alone had made his beating worth it. He hadn’t come awake in bed with a woman since Mara had thrown him out. “Hi, beautiful.”
She didn’t say a word.
He didn’t know how she’d gotten into his bed but he enjoyed the soft curves that fit snugly against him, even if they were covered in an armored battlesuit. The tiny hand that rested on his bare chest . . . And especially the long leg that rested between his knees. She felt good in his arms. Too good.
Shahara stared into those dark, searching eyes. For the first time, she didn’t see what his bounty had listed about him. She didn’t see a filch or a traitor or a convict. She didn’t even see a man.
What she saw was a human being who’d been betrayed and hurt by everyone around him.
And I’m no better than they are.
Because in the end, she was going to betray him too.
For what? The name of justice? Or was that the same noble sort of excuse she’d used for Gaelin?
But right now, lying here with him, she didn’t see anything except someone she wanted to know. To understand how he could carry on with a kindness toward others that she’d lost.
How could he do it?
How could he even trust another person? Even Digger? Never mind put all of his assets in someone else’s name after his wife had already stolen everything from him.
Unable to fathom it, she placed her hand on his whiskered cheek.
Syn was afraid to move for fear of scaring her. Something was different about her now. She looked at him, not with fear or anger or pity.
But with . . .
Understanding.
And before he could move, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. Growling at the taste of her, he carefully pulled her into his arms and held her close as every hormone in his body fired.
Shahara lost herself to the feeling of his body against hers. Of his bare skin under her hands. She’d always wanted to be like a normal woman.
Unafraid of trusting a man in her life.
He’s a convict. How can you trust a convict?
He shifted and she felt his arousal against her stomach. In that instant, involuntary horror flooded her as she remembered Gaelin holding her down by her neck and tearing at her clothes.
Panic tore through her. “Let me go!” she snapped. “Don’t touch me!”
Syn understood that anxious tone and knew it wasn’t directed at him. Instantly he let her go and moved as far away from her as he could so that no part of him was touching her.
That had been the irrational cry of someone whose past had just risen up and tackled them to the ground.
“You okay?”
Shahara scowled at his question, but even more baffling was the concern on his face and the tender note in his voice. She’d expected him to be angry or offended.
But he wasn’t. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. We all have shit to deal with. I have the same reaction sometimes, too.”
She scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. You ever want to see me really wig out? Hand me a candy bar.”
She rolled her eyes. That was ridiculous. “A candy bar?”
“Yeah. A bad thing happened to me over a candy bar once when I was a kid. Never got over it. I break out in a sweat just at the sight of one.”
She gave a short, sarcastic laugh. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
He held his hand up and gave a Ritadarion gesture of honor. “I swear it. To this day I won’t even look at chocolate. Breaks me out in hives.”
A slow half smile curved her lips. “I think you’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
It really was. “Thanks.”
He scratched at the dark whiskers on his face. “So how did you get in here last night? Don’t get me wrong. It was a great surprise, but I would have thought you’d rather sleep with our lizard friend from yesterday than bed down with me for even a nap.”
“I don’t know . . . lizard man or you . . . Nah, you’re right, the lizard would have won it.”
He laughed. “Seriously, what prompted you to come in?”
“Well for one thing you were pretty harmless and you were drugged. But mostly I couldn’t let Digger sleep on the floor while I took the couch, even though he insisted.”
Syn didn’t know why, but that touched him. It seemed out of character for her tougher-than-nails facade. And it had been a decent thing to do for an old man. In his world, decent acts were rare enough that they always shocked him whenever they happened.
But now it was morning and they had a lot to do. He couldn’t afford any more down time. Sooner or later, the Rits would remember he’d had an uncle and come here to check.
Shahara frowned as he moved away from her. The sheet fell away and she realized he was completely naked. Her face flamed at something she hadn’t realized when she’d crawled into bed with him. That would have definitely made her reconsider her actions . . . Sheez!
Oblivious to her mortification, he retrieved his clothes from the other side of the bed. Most of the bruises from yesterday were gone, making the sight of his bared flesh all the more yummy.
Delectable.
Her cheeks blistered. Turning to face the window, she heard his low laugh.
“Sorry, I wasn’t planning on company.”
“Don’t you ever wear bed clothes?”
“No.”
She heard him moving around behind her. “You really should develop some modesty.”
He laughed again. “Why bother? I never have enough people around me to worry about it, and in jail you don’t have any privacy anyway, so you learn to not think about other people’s sensibilities, or your own.”
Her heart clenched at a fact he glazed over and joked about. She knew from her own brief experience how brutally kept they were. And he didn’t even talk about the routine cavity searches and other horrors prisoners were subjected to.
Her own brief experience with having no control over what was done to her body had been bad enough. She couldn’t imagine how many times he’d been violated and at an age when someone should have still been rocking him to sleep.
It offended and disgusted her on his behalf.
He cleared his t
hroat. “It’s safe now. I’m dressed.”
Not sure if she could trust him when he seemed to delight in embarrassing her, she turned around slowly and sighed in relief. He really was dressed.
As she looked him over, she realized the bruises had all but healed on his face and neck as well. Only a faint telltale sign of light yellow across his left cheek betrayed the fact that he’d been severely bruised just the day before.
“Wow,” she said, drawing closer. “Prinapin does work.” And before she thought about her actions, she reached up and fingered his stubbled cheek, his arched brow, and the little wrinkle between his brows.
His eyes darkened. Mesmerized, she watched the emotions flicker behind his dark gaze. Mercy, he was gorgeous and . . .
Suddenly a voice growled behind them. “Hands up, scum. You’re under arrest!”
CHAPTER 9
Syn snapped around, ready to attack.
Then he gaped in utter disbelief. No . . .
It couldn’t be . . . “Vik?”
The little metallic bird postured on the windowsill, eyeing him coldly. Vik’s paint was iridescent and glossed—something the mecha had never liked, since he said it made him look like a girlie bird. “I’m surprised you remember my name.” Vik paused before he added an acerbic “Asshole.”
Syn laughed as he rolled away from Shahara. “You prickly little shit, get over here.”
Vik swooped in to land between the two of them on the bed. He burst apart, shifting from bird form to that of a more traditional mechbot. With his hand, he smacked Syn in the arm. “I thought you were coming back for me.”
“I tried. I really did, but by the time I could, I figured you’d be gone.”
Vik hissed then looked at Shahara. “He lie to you like that?”
Shahara’s mouth worked as she tried to place this creature in Syn’s life. “Who exactly are you?”
He literally bristled. His skin flicked up like spikes before it settled down again. “Oh that’s great. Your girlfriend doesn’t even know me.” He smacked Syn again. “Traitor.”
Syn grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to dangle by it. “Hit me again, and I’m putting you in a compactor.”
Sherrilyn Kenyon - [League 02] Page 17
