Shahara flinched, her stomach churning at the thought. No, she couldn't. She'd barely made it through her parents' burials, and at least she and her siblings had known their parents were sick and had had time to prepare themselves--even though that was a myth. No one was ever ready to let go of a loved one. Not if they actually loved them.
Poor Syn . . .
I deserve to be flogged for what I've done to him. Never in her life had she felt more wrong.
She could tell herself that she didn't know about his past. But that was only an excuse. She'd hurt a good man who watched out for her brother and sister . . .
She looked down at her palm where he'd written Digger's number and at the necklace she wore--Syn's necklace. Given to her to keep her safe even after she'd handed him over to his enemies.
Clenching her fist where his writing was, she wanted to cry. But like Syn, that had been kicked out of her long ago by her own brutal memories.
Digger ground his teeth before he continued. "When he was executed, Indie had a list as long as my arm of business clients he serviced, and they paid well for information about their competitors and other people they wanted to watch . . . or hurt. Sheridan used that list to make contacts and get jobs. He was that good."
So Syn hadn't been lying about that. Just how many times had he told the truth to uncaring ears? And why did she have to be yet another set of them?
"Until he got caught."
"Until he got caught," Digger breathed. "That's when I came back into his life. As luck would have it, I was on yard detail and saw him while they were leading him down to interrogation."
He fell quiet for several minutes as if reliving the horror of it. When he spoke again, she had to strain to hear him. "I tell you I haven't ever seen anyone so beaten. Even what was done to him now can't compare to what he looked like then. And he was only a kid. Those Rits were on him like nothing I ever saw. They kept him locked down under the tightest security and were always questioning him . . . torturing him. I can still hear his young screams for them to stop hurting him. Those sounds would cut through the yard and even hard-core prisoners would all stop as a cold shiver ran down our spines.
"But I knew those screams. For me it was like listening to him with his father all over again. Hell, I figured it had to be easier on him to be tortured by a stranger than by someone who was supposed to love and protect him. But I knew if I didn't do something, they were going to kill him. The fact that he knew not to tell them anything--to stay strong--still amazes me."
"You're how he escaped that time?"
"That I am. I'd been working on an escape for years when they brought him in. It didn't take but a couple more bribes to get him out, too."
Shahara sat back and thought about what Digger was telling her. If what he said was true, then Syn's story about Merjack was also true.
That wasn't good. Not for her anyway.
Glancing back at Digger, she asked, "And the two of you came here?"
He shook his head. "No, I came alone. Sheridan was afraid to stay with me. He kept saying that the Rits would come to kill him and anyone around him would be dead, too. He said he had to go back and find something he'd left behind before he could be safe again. That was the last time I saw him until today. But we keep up. He's always made sure that I was taken care of and had what I needed. And he calls whenever he gets to a secured line."
"No e-mails?"
He shook his head. "A very few here and there. He's always paranoid a filch like him can trace it to me and hurt me to get to him or trace it back to him. So mostly it's through links we talk."
"Then you don't know what happened after that? What he went back to find?"
"I try to keep my ears open about what he's up to, but he keeps a low profile, so I don't hear too much."
That was too bad, because she still needed answers, especially if she was to help him. "Then you don't know why he raped and killed Kiara Zamir?"
He slammed his hand down on the arm of the sofa so hard it made her jump. "Now that's stupid. I said it that day I first heard about that contract. Sheridan wouldn't hurt no defenseless woman. He had too much love and respect for his sister for that. He'd never shame her memory."
His old gaze burned into her with his indignant sincerity. "I done told you and you need to listen and understand. I've never seen him go after someone who didn't go after him first. He's not his father and he never has been. He ain't got that cold streak. Like Indie, it woulda come out by now and the first one he'd have killed would have been that bitch who turned on him."
"His wife?"
"Ex-wife. She was cold to the marrow of her bones, like Indie. I never heard of anything so malicious. Like his mother, she told The League and Rits where to find him because she wanted the reward for turning him in. She even set a trap for him, using their son as bait, and he barely escaped that time, too."
Shahara started at what he described. "No, she didn't."
"Yes, she did. She told him that he could come to Paden's birthday party and when he showed, she took the present, then led him, not to his son, but to a room full of enforcers."
"How did he get away?"
"Same way he always does. He fought his way out and has the scars from six blaster burns to show for it. All he wanted to do was see his kid . . . Stupid bitch."
He cursed even more foully. "What kind of woman does that after he'd already left her a fortune that would have made even a king giddy? Every cent he'd ever made after scraping himself off the streets he gave to her without hesitation. He didn't contest nothing she wanted and she took everything he had. Everything. All he asked for was to see his son once a year on the boy's birthday, and she wouldn't even allow him that much. She turned that boy against him and he won't even speak to Sheridan now because Sheridan's trash. Even though Sheridan still sends the boy money and has put that kid through the best schools in the galaxy--anything he wants, Sheridan makes sure he has it, and he can't even see him. If the bitch don't call the pinches on Sheridan, his own son does. And he still loves that kid more than anything. Would give him a kidney if he asked. And you know the hardest kicker of that?"
"What?"
"That boy ain't even his and he knows it."
Shahara sat stunned. Had she heard that right? "Excuse me?"
Digger nodded. "That whore fucked around on him the whole time they were married. Sheridan was a doctor . . . a surgeon no less, until the bitch took that from him, too. He worked at one of those high-end, well-respected hospitals where Paden was born. When Paden was two, the kid had an injury on the playground and Sheridan was running a routine test when he found a genetic birth defect that neither he nor his wife had. So he ran more tests and learned someone else had fathered the boy with her. And he never even confronted her about it."
Tears welled up in Digger's eyes. "You know what he said when I asked him why he didn't throw the lying whore out?"
She shook her head.
" 'You don't understand, Digger. She doesn't look at me like I'm shit and for the first time in my life she makes me feel wanted even if it's only because she's using me. It's not Paden's fault I wasn't the one who fathered him and it's probably for the best he doesn't have my genes anyway. Biological or not, Paden's my son and that's all that matters. I love him and I won't do to him what Idirian did to me. A boy needs someone to watch out for him. The world is too harsh to be alone in it.' "
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 onl
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.
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