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Play at Soul's Edge

Page 8

by Sophia Amador


  Unlike you. “There’s something off about him. I don’t trust him. He’s… dangerous. I don’t feel Elisa’s safe around him.”

  Sumiko scoffed. “Ben, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. The only danger here is the green-eyed monster rearing its head. Adrian has only been kind and gentle with Elisa.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Since you didn’t ask her out, you have no right to object to her going out with someone else.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “You’re right. I won’t bother her anymore. I better get back in line for lunch.”

  8

  Adrian

  ADRIAN STRETCHED HIS ARMS above his head. He was relaxing in the study in his headquarters, an older building in the business district that he had bought and renovated with profits from his activities. The study was a large, windowless room on the second floor, lined with bookshelves. It was securely located in the center of the building, easily defended in the event of attack, and comfortably furnished.

  It was late at night, but Adrian typically needed little sleep. He reclined with a book in an overstuffed armchair in front of a crackling fire, his feet up on an ottoman. A glass of wine rested on a teak end table beside his chair. He spent most of his time away from school here rather than in his aunt’s cramped and dingy apartment under her disapproving glower. He knew she was relieved that he was gone much of the time as well. She had never seen him as anything other than an inconvenience: another mouth to feed, another drag on her time. The few times he did show up, she never even bothered to ask where he had been.

  It was better here. He sipped his wine. It was an excellent vintage, and it was pleasant to be relaxing here with the dancing warmth of an open fire on his face and arms, so pleasant to watch the flames lick at the fresh, dry wood and slowly consume it.

  There was a tap at the door. Adrian swung to face it, eyes going to the display on the small hand unit on the end table. He glanced at the information on the screen and released the lock.

  The door opened and Debra entered. Clinging to her leg was a small blonde girl of about four or five. Debra jerked to a stop when she spotted Adrian.

  “Oh, Captain—I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were still here.” She gestured apologetically toward the dining table at the other end of the study. “I was just going to clear the dinner dishes.”

  Adrian inclined his head. “By all means, Debra. Please go ahead.”

  The child let go of Debra’s leg and stared at Adrian, her thumb in her mouth, her eyes wide. A huge, dark bruise discolored one puffy eye and half her face.

  He frowned. “What happened to her face?”

  Debra stacked the plates and glasses on a tray. She shot a glance at the little girl and her face darkened. “It was my mom’s new boyfriend. He came home drunk and my mom was passed out again.”

  “What happened?” Adrian asked again.

  Debra’s face reddened and her hands clenched at her sides. “I guess—he wanted my mom, but she wouldn’t wake up, so he went into my sister’s room, and—” She trailed off. “I heard Lily scream, and I ran into the room. He was on top of her. I grabbed the desk lamp and hit him on the head. It knocked him out, and I took Lily and came here.” She swallowed. “I talked to Cesar, and he said she could stay here tonight, and I should ask you in the morning for permission for her to stay longer.”

  Adrian’s face remained impassive. The child clung to her sister’s leg. “This isn’t an orphanage, Debra.”

  “Please, Captain.” Debra’s voice wavered. “She can stay with me; she won’t be any trouble. I can do both night and day shifts to pay for her being here.”

  “And you think a child would be safe here?” He raised an eyebrow, thinking of the drug-fueled parties that took place in the lounge downstairs.

  “It’s safer than my mom’s.” Debra drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I’d make it up to you. I swear it.”

  It might serve his purposes to grant her request, he mused. There were plenty of available bedrooms, the use of which he granted to those he favored. Debra had demonstrated her loyalty to him when she came forward to inform on Kim after the incident with Elisa in the bathroom. A favor such as this could bind her more securely to him at relatively little cost. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do for him to get a reputation for being charitable. He’d have to make sure he extracted payment from her in a very visible way. He was still mulling over his revenge on Kim for her actions that day; perhaps he could involve Debra in her punishment.

  He considered the little girl again. “You’d have to keep her locked in your room or with you at all times. I don’t want children wandering around.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Debra nodded eagerly. “I promise she won’t be any trouble to you. You won’t even know she’s here.”

  Adrian gave her a long, level stare. Finally, he leaned back in the chair, picking up his book. “All right. I’ll allow it on a trial basis.”

  Debra hugged her sister with one arm. “Thank you! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “I’ll expect to be repaid, completely, no matter what the cost,” Adrian said softly. He allowed a hint of menace to creep into his tone. His dark eyes met hers and she nodded fiercely in understanding. They both knew what it meant to be indebted to him. If she was willing to pay that price, so much the better. He could always find a use for desperately loyal foot soldiers.

  Then he lowered his eyes to his book, and the girls scurried out without further comment.

  A few minutes later, five rapid knocks sounded in a rhythmic pattern. “Enter,” Adrian called, unlocking the door with the remote. Cesar slipped into the room, his face expressionless.

  “I’ve been following the girl as you ordered. Tonight, I scared off a couple of creeps planning to ambush her on the street downtown. She wasn’t disturbed and didn’t even notice them.”

  Adrian’s eyes hardened. “Who were they?”

  “Probably just addicts looking for their next fix. I doubt they even knew of her connection to us. They don’t belong to the Third Street gang.”

  Adrian rested his chin in his hand and pondered.

  “I recorded the incident, if you want further details.”

  “Good.” Adrian shifted in his chair. “Send one copy to me, and another to Rory with a note that he is to identify the attackers and produce a report on their connections and potential motivations.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Adrian settled back into his armchair and picked up his glass. “Thank you, Cesar. That is all.”

  Cesar took a few steps toward the door, then stopped. “Captain, if you want to keep this girl safe, it might be easier if you brought her into our organization.”

  “No.” He set his glass down on the table with a snap. “She is to stay unaware of us and our purpose.” His voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “That is an order.”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  After Cesar left, Adrian stared into the dancing flames for a long time. It was unlikely the attack on Elisa was a deliberate strike by one of his enemies. However, Cesar’s recommendation was logical. Bring Elisa fully into the gang, place her directly under their protection, and drill her in the security techniques everyone else followed—that would make it much easier to protect her.

  This incident wasn’t directed against him—yet. However, as soon as their connection became more broadly known, it was inevitable that further attacks on her would follow, as his enemies sought to gain leverage.

  As he deliberated, there was a tapping on the door. “Enter,” he called.

  The door opened and Rory sauntered in. He wore a white Oxford button-down shirt over faded denims. He hitched his hip up onto the armrest of a chair, regarding his long-time ally with a wide grin on his face.

  “So,” he drawled, “I hear you have a new interest.”

  “And if I do?”

  “Isn’t it a bad time to get distracted, Captain?”

  Adrian gazed into
the fire. “I’m not distracted.”

  “You see something you want and you reach out for it, same as always. Don’t you think it might be a risk, especially now?”

  “She serves a purpose in my plans. That’s all you need to know.”

  “I know what you’re using her for, but why put her officially under your protection? Why spare so much manpower to guard her?” Rory’s smile was wider than usual. “Sounds like she’s something more than another one of your tools. Why should it matter whether she lives or dies?”

  “That’s enough, Rory.” Adrian’s voice was quiet but held a deadly edge. “It’s my decision where to seek entertainment.”

  “Entertainment? Is that all it is?”

  Adrian picked up his glass and sipped, still gazing into the fire. “Why would it be anything else?”

  “This one is different. She’s not in the gang; you’re hiding your true identity from her. You’ve never done that before.” Rory tilted his head so his fine hair fell over his forehead. “What have you always said about attachments?”

  Adrian looked him directly in the eyes and held his gaze. “Attachments, Rory? Do you really want to go there?”

  Rory swallowed. His face had gone pale. No doubt he was wondering how much Adrian knew about his little secret. About the attachment in Rory’s life.

  And more importantly— what Adrian was going to do about it.

  Adrian let him stew for a few moments, and then he shrugged. “She caught my fancy; that’s all. Why should I limit myself? In any event, I will not have my decisions questioned or gossiped over. I want you to make it clear to everyone that I won’t tolerate any discussion about this matter.” He rested his head on the back of the chair and crossed his arms. “The usual consequences will apply. Do I make myself clear?” His voice was soft, but Rory would hear the steel undertone.

  “Of course, Captain.” Rory slid off the armrest. “But what about next week? Won’t there be a big risk to her—” He stopped abruptly at the expression on Adrian’s face. “Sorry.” He left without another word.

  Robson

  Principal Robson walked slowly up the main flight of stairs at the front of the school. He was burly and still muscular despite his age, and his head was crowned with thick white hair. His knees protested as he climbed. It stuck in his craw every time he had to grovel to a person—a student!—who should have no authority over him whatsoever. In the twenty-five years he had been principal, Robson had never before encountered anyone brazen enough to challenge him. Until now.

  He growled to himself. At least it would be coming to an end soon, when Adrian Salas left high school.

  Robson had been one of the gang’s agents for more than three years. Ever since the day when he’d gotten that phone call threatening to expose his daughter. She’d thought no one knew her secret, that she’d had an abortion before she married her deeply religious husband. She had begged Robson to keep it quiet, and so he had given in to the blackmail. Since then he had carried out all the gang’s orders and served as their local coordinator, as they moved their primary base and main headquarters to the campus of Rockton High. Payments had appeared in his bank account, and everything had been carefully documented.

  So now they owned him, holding not just his daughter’s secrets in their hands, but plenty of his own.

  The one promise the boy—whom he’d been forced to call “Captain”—had made was that at the end of his senior year, the gang would move its headquarters elsewhere and Robson would be allowed to retire, his silence the only further price to pay. Four years of hell, of being an accessory to crimes he didn’t even want to think about, and finally the end was in sight.

  He nodded to the student on guard outside the door to the former teachers’ lounge. “I have important information for the Captain. He’ll want to see me immediately.”

  The student sniffed, but entered the room at once to relay the message. In a minute he returned and swung the door open.

  The teachers’ lounge was spacious and comfortable. It was located in one of the older parts of the building, but had been maintained reasonably well over the years. The wainscoting and crown molding gracing the once-elegant room echoed bygone days of larger school district budgets, when education was believed by the state government to be a priority and teaching was a respected profession. The floor-to-ceiling wood-mullioned windows offered the best view from the school, overlooking the neighborhood park.

  At one end of the room sat Adrian Salas, at his ease in an antique wing-back armchair upholstered in white satin. About two dozen members of his gang sat or stood around his chair. In the center of the room, facing Adrian, a younger blond boy was kneeling, wrists bound behind his back, his face pale and terrified, and a bright red welt rising on one cheek. Robson grimaced. Although he had made his peace, mostly, with his own complicity in Adrian’s crimes, the youth seemed to enjoy rubbing his servitude in his face, forcing him to witness scenes of intimidation, torture, and even threats of murder. The scowl on Robson’s face deepened.

  He ignored all the others, walked straight up to Adrian and said, “I have important information for your ears alone, Captain.”

  Adrian gave him a level stare, then gestured peremptorily with his head. At once, the gang members began filing out of the room. One jerked the bound student to his feet and made him follow.

  When the door had closed behind them and the two of them were alone in the room, Robson said, “Police Chief Davenport called me this morning.”

  Adrian said nothing; he only raised a brow in inquiry.

  “He said that the drug trafficking and gang activity in this area is getting out of hand, and he’s had orders directly from the mayor to do something about it. They’re especially concerned about this new drug that’s been appearing on the streets.” He beetled his thick white brows at Adrian. “So he’s sending a team of undercover agents to the school on an infiltration mission. He informed me that I was to be the sole contact to minimize the possibility of leaks.”

  “Is that so?” Adrian rested his chin in his hand. “And have you received any information on these undercover agents?”

  “Yes. I have their names and descriptions here, as well as the schedule of their arrival. They’re adults who can pass for teenagers, experienced undercover cops from other jurisdictions.”

  Adrian held out his hand for the information. He unfolded the piece of paper and ran his eye over the names. “Keisha Huston and Vince Devore. Very interesting. Have they informed you when they’ll send more information?”

  “No. This was the final exchange.”

  “They’ll undoubtedly attempt to infiltrate that notorious gang that’s rumored to have operations at Rockton High.” Adrian’s eyes flashed with amusement. “We’ll just have to make sure we—facilitate their work,” he said softly. “Thank you, Robson. As always, your cooperation makes my work so much easier.”

  The old man scowled.

  The part that bothered him the most was not the crimes. It was the loss of control over his own school, the way he had to bow to Adrian, the fact that if the crimes came to light, it would be Robson, not Adrian, who would go to jail.

  And if what he’d heard was about to happen next week went down—

  He gritted his teeth, aware that Adrian, as always, was amused by his reaction.

  9

  Kim

  KIM CROUCHED ON THE FLOOR of the basement furnace room beside the other members of Tenebras, waiting for the Captain to come down the stairs. The room echoed with taunts and sneers, but she avoided the eyes of the scrawny kid tied to a classroom chair in front of the furnace. His arms and legs had been strapped to the chair with zip ties that cut into his pale flesh. She knew why the meeting had been called, and she wanted to distance herself from the unlucky captive as much as possible.

  Hulking equipment of unknown vintage surrounded the room. The antique furnace glowed dimly around the iron door in its squat belly, and the reek of sour iron pervaded the air
. Two bare bulbs hung from twisted wires nailed to the rafters amongst a maze of pipes, drains, and loose clusters of wire. The largest of the pipes was wrapped with insulating tape stained with decades of rust. The painted cement floor slanted downward toward the recessed drain at the low end of the room.

  About twenty of the gang members stood against the walls, mostly male except for three or four girls. Their jeering stopped when Adrian appeared on the landing. He was not wearing his glasses, and a small smile played about his lips.

  Kim waited in her customary position on the floor beside the Captain’s chair. Watching Adrian walk down the stairs sent a shiver through her, as it did every time.

  The first time she had seen him take command of a meeting, his physical beauty had struck her like a knife in the heart. The large, expressive eyes surrounded by impossibly thick, long lashes; that deep, resonant voice that spoke so politely of torture and death; his lean, sculpted torso and utterly graceful movements—between one breath and the next she had known what she wanted.

  From that moment on, she had set herself to catch his attention in the most brazen way possible. She knew she had an attractive body, lithe and well endowed. She shivered as she recalled the day she had finally caught his eye. How well she remembered that night, the night he had brought her to his room at headquarters. She had expected him to be like all the others, the men who tore her clothes, grabbed her breasts, pressed sloppy mouths reeking of whisky or smoke to her lips, and then took her roughly, taking their pleasure eagerly and tossing her aside until the next time.

  But instead he had been a gentleman. He spoke to her politely. He asked her permission, unbuttoned her shirt slowly, his eyes smoldering and a dark smile on his expressive face. He touched his lips, sweeter than honey, to hers, entered her mouth tenderly with his warm tongue. He teased her, stroked her with his long fingers until she thought she would die from the torment and wonder of it.

  Sex had always been a tedious task for her, something she did to get things she wanted, pleasurable mostly in that it finally gave her a small power over others. But that night with Adrian had been a revelation.

 

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