by L. K. Hill
“Yes,” Boss answered softly. “I heard. Josie McNeal. Those around you, even your employers, often end up dead, it seems,” Boss said quietly, looking amused.
“As I said,” Kyra ignored the last statement, “it’s odd I haven’t heard anything of my brother. Not a whisper. Not a mention.” She took a deep breath, praying he wouldn’t ask her for her source. “I’ve come to realize it’s because he’s not a part of the gang. At least not anymore. I think he’s somewhere in your organization.”
Boss blinked at her, his expression unchanging. It clicked for Kyra.
She let out her breath and looked down at her hands, still resting on the backs of the dark chairs. “Which you already knew.”
“Suspected," Boss said firmly. "After our last chat, my people did some digging for me. We found a young man—he matches the description of your brother—who is doing excellent work for us. He does not go by your brother’s name, so we had no reason to suspect him beforehand.”
Emotions rose in Kyra’s chest so sharply, she fought to catch her breath. Boss knew Manny's location. As he sat there smugly behind the desk, he could tell her where her brother was. He spoke of Manny as he might of any other employee. Manny had become such a specter to her in the last year. Hearing someone speak of him so casually felt…odd, to say the least. Frightening and thrilling. Grounding and also unreal.
“Have you,” Kyra’s voice quavered and she cleared her throat to stabilize it. “Have you approached him?”
“No,” Boss said, his eyes never leaving her face. He could read every nuance of her emotion. She felt sure of it. “We had no confirmation he's the one you sought. No reason to approach him if we had. He does good work for us. We wouldn’t want to spook him.”
Kyra fought the urge to call him on his bullshit. He knew perfectly well whether the man he'd mentioned was Manny. He wouldn’t leave information he could hang over her head unconfirmed.
And "spook" Manny? As though he cared for Manny’s well-being? Manny made the mob money. They'd keep him in the dark to keep him working for them. It had nothing to do with them caring about him.
“Will you tell me where he is?”
Boss spread his hands. “All things come at a price, my dear. We were speaking of business arrangements.”
Kyra nodded. “I'm lucky to be alive, but I’ve learned a lot from each encounter with this killer. I think I’m beginning to understand him. I know how he thinks. What he’s after, and why. He told me things.” She was talking too quickly. Divulging too much information. Her adrenaline had gone through the roof and with the two mobsters boring holes in her with their eyes, she had trouble gathering her thoughts. Might as well lay out everything she’d thought over the past few days.
“I don’t know why he’s left his recent victims for the cops to find, but based on the mass grave at the Purple Valentine, he’s been killing in the city for longer than anyone realizes. He may have other mass graves he returns to around the city. I think I can find them.”
Boss stared at her levelly. “You think you can kill this man for me? You? A novel-writer.” He put such contempt into the emphasis, Kyra’s rebellion flared. She pushed it back down, ignoring the dig. She’d survived this far. Boss knew that. He was baiting her.
Kyra shook her head. “I’m not sure I can. I’ll try, if you want. As you said, he’s already bested me more than once. I told you, he’s more intelligent than I am, and stronger. It’s like…” Kyra struggled for the words. No matter how she described it, it sounded crazy. “It’s like he can sense me, whenever I’m near. I don’t know how to get around that. If I approach him, and he manages to kill me this time, you'll lose the information I've gathered.”
Boss blinked at her warily.
“I can get you a location. A place he’ll return to. Then your men can take care of it. They’ll be more efficient.”
Boss leaned back in his chair again, understanding coming into his face. “And in exchange for this information, I give you your brother.”
Kyra met his gaze. “Would you be amenable to that?”
“Doesn’t your relationship with Detective Nichols make this a complicated offer?” Boss asked smugly.
Kyra froze. He truly did know everything. She forced herself to remain tranquil. “I no longer have any ties to Detective Nichols. He severed them himself this afternoon.”
Boss leaned forward. “Why?”
He seemed genuinely curious. Kyra didn't believe he didn't know the answer already. Another truth test? Trying to draw out her emotions, perhaps? Torment her. It didn’t matter anymore. She swallowed, fighting her emotions and knowing she was losing. She put her eyes on the floor. “Because I got his partner and best friend killed.”
She took a deep breath and raised her head. “I’ve gone to him for help in the past. If I did so now, he would shut the door in my face. You don’t need to worry about him intervening. We won’t catch this killer in Nichols’ corner of the Mire anyway.”
Boss arched an eyebrow. “Very true.” He studied his hands, obviously weighing the implications of her request. Kyra risked a glance at Dellaire. He, too, watched Boss. The seconds ticked by, seeming interminable.
Boss heaved a deep breath. “I will agree to your terms on two conditions.”
Kyra immediately felt a sense of relief. Of course, “conditions” could change everything. “What are they?” she asked warily.
“First, I’m willing to pay you for the information, rather than the kill, but understand you will not be paid until this problem has been taken care of. If you give us a location he will return to, and he doesn’t return there for two months, you will not receive your brother’s whereabouts until he does return and can be taken care of.”
Kyra nodded. She supposed it made sense. Boss considered himself a businessman. He paid for results. “I understand.”
“But do you agree?” Boss arched an eyebrow.
“Yes. What’s the second condition?”
“Once the problem is taken care of, I will give you your brother’s alias and location. I’ll even set up a meeting between the two of you if you’d like." His gaze bored into hers and his voice became firm. "That’s where it stops.”
Something cold clenched around Kyra’s stomach. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.
Boss spread his hands. He did that when pretending to be innocent. “If your brother wants to stop working for me, to leave my organization, he knows how to extricate himself. What must be done.”
Kyra winced, trying not to imagine what he might mean.
“If he does not wish to leave, I won’t allow you to force him. It’s a decision he will have to make, after considering all his options.”
Kyra understood. All too well. “And I suppose you’ll do everything you can to convince him to stay.”
“Of course I will.” Boss spread his hands again. “We plucked your brother from the Sons of Ares for a specific reason. His talents are too great to remain in such an uncouth organization. Naturally I want such talent to continue producing for me.”
Despite knowing Boss would try to convince Manny to stay—and someone like him had ways of being extremely convincing—Kyra felt relief. Manny was smart. Ivy league smart. It didn't exactly sound like he worked as a hit man. Perhaps he cooked books or gave business advice on revenue streams. It gave Kyra hope.
She realized Boss and Dellaire both stared at her. “It doesn’t surprise me, that you want him. He's always been the smart one.”
For the first time, Boss rose from his chair and came around the desk to stand in front of Kyra. “When my people first brought you to my attention, I didn’t think anything of you. You weren’t important enough. If you worked against me, I would have had you killed. If not, I could recruit you. When Jerome began reporting your activities to me, I became intrigued. Even at our last meeting, I saw you as a potential worker, nothing more. One to be watched, as you obviously think your own thoughts, but a worker nonetheless." He walked a slo
w circle around her and the chairs while he spoke.
“You’re much more than that, aren’t you? Not an asset to be acquired, but an equal. Possibly a rival, yet you have no interest in my business, which simply makes you a fellow entrepreneur. You don’t only play your own games. You set them up and take control.”
“This isn’t a game,” Kyra said. She kept her tone soft but heat seeped into it.
Dellaire watched them, silent as ever, his expression anxious. Odd, for him.
“Of course it is,” Boss paced at her back. “It’s all a game. Brothers and killers. Rivals and customers. The Mire and the mobsters. Alleys and streets. All games. Games we must conquer, or else disappear into the gaping maw of this city.” He came around to stand in front of her again.
Kyra, not sure where he was going with this, and spooked by Dellaire’s fear, kept her eyes on Boss’s chest.
He reached out with one long finger and lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Jerome is right about your survival not being simple luck. Perhaps your brother is book smart—and I value his kind of intelligence highly in my organization—but he could never do what you are doing. Most people couldn’t. Take some pride in your abilities.”
A wave of paralyzing grief swept over Kyra. Pride. Right. The pride that got Tyke killed. That left his wife a widow, and his children fatherless. The pride that had left Gabe not only estranged from her, but hating her. Her insides curled into cringing balls at the thought. That pride could still get her killed. And Manny. Maybe if she worked at it she could throw Gabe and Dellaire in for good measure.
“I’m sure you feel pride in your accomplishments,” Kyra said quietly. “Including those you’ve hurt along the way. It’s not something you and I will ever share.”
Boss stared at her for another five seconds, then shrugged. “As you will.” He moved back around the desk and sank into his chair. “I stand by what I’ve said. I will put you in touch with your brother. The rest must be worked out between you.”
“That’s all I ask,” Kyra said.
“We are agreed.” Boss held his hand out. Kyra arched an eyebrow. Did he really want her to shake it? She glanced at Dellaire. If anything, the anxiety in his expression heightened.
Kyra stepped between the two chairs and shook Boss’s hand.
“One more thing,” he said when she stepped back. “You will never return to this location. The next time my men see your face here, your execution will swiftly follow.”
Kyra suppressed a swallow. “What happens when I’ve discovered this man’s location? Where or who should I report to?”
Boss opened a drawer on his right and pulled out a business card of some kind. He flipped it over and scribbled something on the back. He offered the card to Dellaire with a gaze that looked almost…mischievous? Kyra must be reading it wrong.
Dellaire frowned, but took the card. He glanced down at what Boss wrote and reached out to hand it to Kyra. Then he froze, examined the writing again, and frowned at Boss. Something unspoken passed between the two men, and Kyra registered a distinct chill in the air. Without a word, Dellaire handed the card to Kyra.
She held his gaze for several extra seconds, trying to interpret what she’d seen, before dropping her gaze to the card. He'd scribbled an address on it. Something in the Mire, she was certain, but couldn’t pinpoint the exact area in her mind.
“What is this place?”
“A safe house,” Boss answered. His manner turned business-like. “When you go there, go around to the entrance on the side. It faces south. Knock three times. When the door opens, you’ll have at least one gun shoved in your face. In order to survive, you must use the word 'specter.' Use it however you wish. My people will know you're on my business and will give you any help you need. They will pass on your information to the right channels.”
Kyra nodded, pushing the card into the back pocket of her jeans. Both men stared at her silently.
“Anything else?” She asked.
“Not from my end.”
She nodded. "I have one more question. This killer, he used to be one of yours, didn't he?"
Boss's face darkened. "I'd hardly allow my own people to kill off our customers, my dear. What would make you think a thing like that."
"The last time I saw you, you called me Chameleon. He calls me the same thing. Either you heard it from him or he heard it from you."
Boss's face grew harder still. "Get out."
Kyra sighed. “I’ll be in touch.”
She turned. Her four guards still stood directly behind her, and she'd have to wait for them. Boss must have signaled them because they moved to surround her and the five of them exited the room.
Kyra felt tenser on the walk from Boss’s office to the street than at any time since approaching the bakery. She half thought Boss might have the guards kill her for knowing his location. What if it had all been a lie, and he planned to execute her anyway? Unlikely, after their talk, but why had Dellaire looked so worried?
She made it to the street and retreated into the safe darkness of the Mire without incident. As she trudged down the first alley she’d come to, she allowed herself to feel some sense of relief. Boss would give her Manny’s location. She was closer than she’d ever been. She shouldn't feel relief. She had a sadistic killer to find. He’d nearly killed her several times—
“Ms. Roberts.”
Kyra spun when Dellaire’s voice invaded the stillness. He strode toward her from fifty yards away. Suppressing a growl, Kyra changed directions and met him half way.
“Could you please restrain from calling my real name in the Mire?” she spat.
He held his hands up. “My apologies. You’re not in your…normal disguise. I thought it the safer name to use.
Kyra sighed. “The disguise is retired. I’ll have to take another. Does Boss want something else?”
“No,” Dellaire said. “I do. You said you thought you could find the killer, which means you must already have some idea of where he might be. Why don’t you tell me where you plan to look? Perhaps I could give you some pointers.”
Kyra stared at him. “Why would you do that?”
“As you said, this man has nearly killed you twice. Though why he didn't in the Dictim, I still don't fully understand.”
Kyra’s head snapped up. “You were…? How did…?” She sputtered.
He put his hands up in a placating manor. I saw you running in the Mire, and the shadows pursuing you. I followed, but I have a bad leg since our tussle with McNeal. It took some time to catch up. I saw him take you into the small warehouse and planned to intervene. Before I could, you made a break for it, and made it into your detective’s arms. Once I knew you were safe, I opted to stay in the shadows. By the time I made it into the Dictim, the shots had already been fired.
Kyra stared at him for several seconds. Why did he keep doing this? She dug Boss’s card out of her jeans. “Is this your address?”
Dellaire didn’t look at the card. His eyes stayed steady on her face. “Yes.”
Kyra dropped her hand. “I don’t understand. He told me before you wouldn’t be following me anymore. You had more important things to do and lower level people would tail me. But it was you. Always. You intervened at the Purple Valentine. Again, with Josie. You continue to follow me. Is that Boss's decision or yours?”
Dellaire hesitated. “Mostly his.” He didn’t volunteer more.
“Now he gives me your address as a contact.” She studied the ground, remembering Boss’s smug look as he handed Dellaire the card, struggling to connect the dots here on the spot. “Is he…toying with us?”
Dellaire nodded slowly. “Me more than you, but yes.”
“Why?”
“He’s a perceptive man. He takes pleasure in petty torments.”
Kyra huffed in frustration. What did that mean? Must everything be a riddle? She looked Dellaire straight in the eye and stepped toward him. “Why? Why have you taken it upon yourself to be my gua
rdian angel? There must be a reason.”
He gazed down at her silently.
She refused to give in or look away without an answer.
“Don't you know?” he said quietly.
Kyra stepped back, surprised at the admission. She’d registered him looking at her before, but ignored it. Now her face burned and she felt grateful for the darkness. “Yeah, but why play guardian angel to anyone, especially me, no matter the reason. You’re a mobster. A…wise guy.”
“And you’re a good girl, searching for a serial killer in the loneliest parts of the darkest city in the world. I think we make a good pair.”
Kyra turned away from him, thinking. When she turned back, she’d put ten feet between them. “We make a twisted pair. You must know this kind of partnership will end in tragedy.”
Dellaire crossed the space between them until he stood looking directly into her face. “All things are tragic when they end. Kyra.” He whispered her name and raised his hand, fingers poised to stroke her cheek. His hand remained there, hovering above her face. Then he dropped it. “Where do you plan to start looking?”
Kyra dropped her head and swallowed, gathering her thoughts. “In places around the Mire like Old Abstreuse. He seeks places even the Mirelings are too spooked to go. Places quiet enough to give way to insanity. I don’t know where I’ll start yet. I need to sit down with a map and make a plan. I’ll search similar places for signs of him.”
“What signs?”
“I don’t know,” she said. "I’m sure I’ll know them when I see them.”
“Such places are dangerous, but you can handle them. Chameleon.” He whispered the last word like a prayer.
Kyra chuckled and he raised an eyebrow. “Do you know how cliché it is to hear that what I’m doing could get me killed?”
“I didn’t mean that,” Dellaire said. “Even if your body makes it out intact, your soul may not.”
