She picked up the link. “I’m going to leave you alone. Call me when you have something.”
He nodded.
Grabbing the new jacket, she left him and Vik and went walkabout so that she could at least try and clear her head. But it was impossible. All she could see was Tessa’s face when she’d been a kid, depending on Shahara. Back when she’d been training as a seax, Tessa had learned to cook and would always greet her at the door with some kind of treat.
“One day I want to be just like you.”
Only she’d wanted better than that for her sister.
Her heart heavy, she paused in the lobby to stare up at the beautiful dress in the boutique. How she wished she could afford things like that for her and her sisters.
I can’t even keep them safe.
Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes as she left the hotel with no destination in mind. It wasn’t until she reached a temple at the end of the second block that she stopped again.
Never one for religion, she approached the door slowly. It was Syn’s denomination. She still found his religiousness mystifying. How could he have faith after all he’d been through?
But then, maybe that was the beauty of it. There was no faith greater than that that had been tested and survived.
Wanting to find her own peace, she went inside. A young priestess around the age of twenty, and wearing the same robe as Mother Anne, stood in a nearby corner, restocking the supply of tapers. “Good evening, child,” she said with a tender smile.
“Good evening, Mother.”
“It’s a terribly cold night for you to be out. What trouble brings you to our door?”
“I . . . I’ve come to pray.”
The priestess smiled and handed her a candle. “Then I won’t disturb you. May you find peace tonight, child, and may the gods keep you and those you love safe.”
She didn’t know why, but those kind words brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, Mother.”
The priestess inclined her head respectfully to her, then returned to work.
Shahara took the taper and went to light it. As quietly as she could, she entered the nave and found a quiet spot to kneel on the floor. She glanced around at the statues of the gods and wondered if they really existed. Did they see her or even care what was happening to her?
Neither of her parents had been religious, and she’d never had time for it in her life. But tonight . . .
Tonight she didn’t want to feel alone in the universe. She wanted to believe that there was a higher power that had brought her to this pass. That something had a plan, because she certainly didn’t.
Don’t die, Tess . . .
Tears fell down her cheeks as she faced reality. What was she going to do? To save Tess would mean Syn’s life. Merjack wouldn’t stop until Syn was dead.
What have I done?
She’d made a pact with the devil for one man’s life. And not just any man.
The only man she’d ever loved.
I can’t do this. I can’t hand him over to die.
But what choice did she have? And as those thoughts chased each other around in her head, she heard one deep, intrinsic male voice above them all.
Trust me.
Syn growled in frustration as he kept searching fruitlessly for information about Merrin Lyche. How could there be nothing on the man?
It was like chasing a ghost.
C’mon, don’t do this to me. Most of all, he didn’t want it done to Shahara.
Disgusted, he pulled a tiny ring out of his pocket and studied it.
A wedding ring . . .
It’d been a stupid impulse to buy the ring. He’d known it the moment he did it. But as he was buying Shahara her jacket, he’d looked down in the jewelry case and seen its golden diamond stones twinkling. Their fire flashed with the same intensity as her eyes, and he couldn’t resist it anymore than he could resist her.
What a tangled, complicated mess they were in.
Of course, he should be used to that by now. Life was a treacherous beast, and every time he thought he had it tamed, it always turned around and bit him on the ass. But he refused to let it humble Shahara. She deserved better than that.
It’s hopeless. There’s nothing here on the man.
No, he wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t. Setting the ring aside, he kept looking.
“Hey, boss?”
“Not now, Vik.”
Vik extended one arm and shoved him back in his chair. “Dude, listen to the metallic life form.”
Just as Syn was about to tear his head off, Vik entered a code and unlocked Lyche’s files.
But it was the top file that made every hope he had crumble straight to the ground as he realized one truth.
None of them were going to survive.
CHAPTER 18
Shahara paused as she entered the hotel room and found Syn looking ill. It was obvious he’d received bad news.
Again.
There was also an open half-empty bottle of hard Tondarion Fire next to him—an alcohol so potent, it was banned on most planets. That definitely wasn’t a good sign.
“What happened?”
He took a swig of the alcohol straight out of the bottle—impressive and scary. “Lyche is dead.”
The news slammed straight into her gut as she neared him. Surely she’d misheard him. “What?”
His eyes mirrored the disgust on his face. “Fate is indeed one serious bitch . . . He died ten years ago, probably from a disease caused by Merjack’s gas.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Basically, we’re screwed.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I just unlocked his medical files—”
Vik cleared his throat.
“Vik unlocked his files and I found the death certificate.”
So glad I was right . . . Weary and upset, she went to stand by his side so that she could see the report herself.
Sure enough, the man was dead. Not that she doubted Syn, but she was hoping he’d had a concussion that left him unable to read or something.
This can’t be happening . . . They needed to find that chip.
“So where does this leave us?”
“I’m working on it. His wife is still alive. I’m doing a search for her contact information. Maybe . . . maybe she still has the statue.”
“Statue? Why are you looking for a statue?”
“That’s what I put the chip in.”
Shahara frowned. “A statue?” she repeated. “How big was this thing?”
He held his hands up to show her about three feet.
“And you chose that again . . . why?”
“It was there and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, it did work. No one seems to have found it in all these years.”
Holding her hands up, she didn’t say anything else as he reached for the link to call Lyche’s widow.
He checked his chronometer. “It should be middle afternoon where she is. Keep your hopes up.”
They were about the only thing she had up at the moment. C’mon. Answer the call . . . She waited, her heart pounding erratically until an old woman answered his call.
“Fria Lyche?”
“Yes, yes, this is she. Can I help you?”
“I hope so, ma’am. You don’t know me, but I’m looking for a piece of statuary your late husband owned.”
“Merrin had several pieces,” she said, her voice gentle and kind. “He loved to collect all different types.”
“Yes, ma’am. The one I’m interested in looked like an ancient Derridian goddess. Pikra, I think it was.”
“Oh yes, the garishly green one with the snake skin and ruby hair. No matter how hard I try, I can’t purge that nasty thing out of my mind.”
Shahara grimaced at the hideous description. Why would anyone buy such a thing? For that matter, why would anyone hide a valuable chip in it?
Even as a kid, Syn should have known better.
He looked up at her and wi
nked. “That’s the one. Do you know what happened to it?”
“Oh my goodness, would you believe the doctors told him not to go back to his office and remove anything at all, and yet he insisted he go back for that monstrosity? He said it had magic protecting powers instilled in it from ancient times. The only power I ever knew it to have was the ability to make everyone who saw it cringe and curl their lips. I still don’t know why he loved it so. He was like a kid with a pet toy. But once he got sick, I made him get rid of that foully hideous thing. It made my skin crawl to be near it. Evil-looking thing, it was.”
It was gone? Shahara felt ill at the woman’s tirade.
What are we going to do now?
Syn scowled. “Do you know what he did with it?”
“Gave it over to an auction house. Why are you interested in it, anyway?”
“I remember seeing it in his office a long time ago and I found it . . . intriguing.”
“Well, I guess we all have different tastes.”
“Yes, ma’am. Um, do you remember which house he turned it over to?”
“Oh, that big one that’s so famous on Tondara.”
“Berringer’s?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Thank you, Fria Lyche. I appreciate your help.”
She cut the link.
Syn sat back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and smiled. For some reason that pose made him look mischievous and handsome while the whiskers on his face made him look exceedingly dangerous. “I think we have it.”
Shahara wasn’t feeling so optimistic. “It’s been how many years? There’s no telling where it could be now.”
“No, but Berringer’s keeps detailed catalogs of all its pieces as well as files on all their buyers.”
Hope began to well up inside her again. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’ve bought several pieces of art from them.”
“Why would you buy from them if they keep detailed—”
“I know someone who works for them who is . . . discreet. I put my bid in through them, and they deliver my purchases to my office.”
That made sense. “And how do you know the ugly statue buyer isn’t another convict buying through a discreet contact?”
He glowered at her. “I really hate when you call me a convict.”
She crossed the room to sidle up to him and touch the tip of his nose. “I mean it lovingly. Really. Because of you, I have a whole new respect for convicts . . . and you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t have an answer until I look it up.” He kissed her finger before he turned his attention to the laptop.
She stood aside and watched as he effortlessly accessed files and data about auctions and buyers. How she wished she had his talents. She was only good at shooting things and blowing them up.
Especially computers and their networks.
After several minutes, he cursed. “Those paranoid, sniveling . . .”
“What?”
He snatched up his bottle and took a drink before he answered. “They don’t keep their archived catalogs online. They have a private in-house system off-grid.”
“What does that mean?”
“We have to be inside their gallery to find out who bought the piece. Which is good that no one can ever track or trace me through them, but right now it sucks when I want those files.”
She sighed as she stared at the monitor that showed a beautiful emerald necklace she’d love to own. “Are we going to break in?”
He laughed evilly. “Only a brief time around me and I’ve already turned you into a filch. Can you imagine what you’d be like after a year?”
She popped him lightly on the back of the head like she used to do with Caillen whenever he’d get smart with her.
“Hey!”
“It’s what you get for that. Besides, who says I couldn’t straighten you out as easily as you corrupted me?”
Syn froze at her words as all his humor fled. The truth was, she could straighten him out. Because when it came to her, he was weaker than he’d ever been before.
Diverting his attention before she realized what she did to him, he closed down his laptop. “I don’t think breaking in would be the wisest course.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve never broken in to a high security building. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you will get killed. Those kinds of facilities don’t play with anyone. Not to mention I know an easier way.”
“Which is?”
“Donya Arisa.”
She frowned. “What is that?”
“The what is a who. And she is easy to manipulate. Trust me. I’ll go see her first thing in the morning.”
Shahara wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that whole manipulation thing. He made it sound like he’d had a lot of practice doing that with this unknown woman. The thought caused a huge stab of jealousy to go through her. “Don’t you mean we, flyboy?”
“No, me. You’re staying here.”
“Oh, I definitely don’t think so, and you don’t take that tone of voice with me. Ever.”
Vik, who’d been completely silent all this time, perked up. “Oh, I’m out of this.” He flew to the window and let himself out.
“Shahara—”
“Zzzt,” she said, holding her hand up. “Wasting time here. I won’t even hear it. You go. I go. It’s my sister’s life on the line and I out-shoot and am pretty sure I outfight you, too.”
“I think we came up pretty even on that score.”
“But I am the better shot.”
He gave her a grudging glare. “I concede. However, I think I can take you when I’m sober.”
She took the bottle out of his hand. “Good. I’m going to throw this out.”
“Uh!” He reached for it.
Shahara danced away from him and had the bottle upside down in the sink before he could catch her.
He tried to get it out of her hands, but it was too late. “You are an evil, mean woman.”
“And you are drunk.”
“I work better that way.”
She dropped the bottle and turned to face him. His hair was hanging in his dark eyes that seared her. “No, Syn, you don’t. I don’t like what the alcohol does to you.”
Syn wanted to curse her and tell her it was none of her business. But right then, staring down into her face . . .
He was lost to her.
All he wanted was to have her hold him close and make everything else go away. Yet she couldn’t. Not when Tessa’s life was on the line.
I have to stay focused. Something that was impossible when she stood so close to him he could see her pupils dilate.
As if she could sense his desire, she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “I see you, Syn. I know what kind of man you are, and the only thing I would change is your needless insobriety.”
“I don’t like to feel.”
“And yet you do. No matter how much you drink, it doesn’t really go away, does it?”
No, it didn’t. But her touch . . .
It chased the pain away. How did she do that? How could she love something like him?
“I will always stand by you, Shay. Always.”
Shahara’s breath caught at those ragged words that had come straight from his heart. They and the use of her nickname touched her deep inside. And before she could think better of it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
His hand tightened on her waist as if he wanted to hold on to her forever.
It was then she knew the truth.
He loved her. He might not say it, but she could feel it in his kiss and his touch.
Syn wanted to curse at how good she tasted and felt. There was no one else he’d ever wanted like this. And as her tongue danced with his, his mind tormented him with thoughts of a life with her.
If only they could . . .
He pulled back even though every part of him screamed out in denial of
it.
“We need to get going,” they said in unison.
Syn stepped back and indicated his stolen uniform. “But we can’t go like this.”
“Yeah, we’d look a little suspicious. So what kind of clothes did you buy?”
He motioned to the bag on the floor. “Didn’t you look before the hissy fit?”
“No. And I didn’t throw a hissy fit.” She picked up the bag and pulled out a shirt and pair of pants that were definitely cut for Syn. On the bottom was a rust colored pantsuit for her. It was made of the softest fabric she’d ever touched. “Nice.”
“I’m sorry it’s not better, but I didn’t have time to really look.”
His apology stunned her. “Don’t be sorry. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever had.”
Syn clenched his teeth at the earnestness of her tone. Gods, how he wanted to rectify that. And as she started taking her shirt off, he realized that he couldn’t stay in here. Not if he wanted to stay focused.
“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a few.”
Shahara frowned as Syn all but left a vapor trail in his hurry to leave her. Shaking her head, she pulled her shirt off and dropped it on the desk as she exchanged her uniform for the pantsuit.
As soon as she was dressed, she pulled her shirt back. It caught against the magazine by his laptop and uncovered something that sparkled. Curious, she moved closer to find . . .
A wedding ring.
The sight hit her like a punch in the gut. Was it Mara’s?
If it were, it meant only one thing—he’d loved his wife. He’d been lying when he said he didn’t. And he must have loved her dearly for him to have kept her ring all these years.
Something inside her shattered at the realization.
Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe it’s Talia’s . . .
But Talia had only been a girl when she’d died. Surely she wouldn’t have owned a wedding ring.
His mother’s?
No, he hated her too much to have kept hers. There was only one answer and it made her ill.
That’s why he didn’t tell you he loved you. He’s still missing his wife.
She heard him opening the door. Moving away from the ring before he caught her ogling it, she put her uniform in the bag and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. But inside . . .
Sherrilyn Kenyon - [League 02] Page 36
