And I wasn’t going to disappear without Kori. I would not leave her alone in the syndicate. Not like Cam did.
“Isn’t that a little extreme?” I said, faking ignorance to distract from the shadows I was gathering faster now.
Cam’s aim never wavered, though his arms had to be getting tired. “It’s common sense.”
Olivia elaborated. “Mr. Holt, the strength of your Skill is unheard of, and it may never be matched. I don’t know how you escaped notice as long as you did, but the display you made of yourself at that hockey game was idiotic, at best. The whole world knows what you can do now, and that’s not ever going to go away.”
“What does that mean?” The shadows were as thick as I could make them, but I let them simmer at our ankles for another minute, fascinated to hear Olivia saying the same things my mother had warned me and Steven about from the time we were old enough to listen.
“That means that even if you sign with Tower tomorrow, you’re not going to be able to just walk away at the end of your commitment,” Olivia continued. “He’ll use everyone you love—hell, everyone you even know—to manipulate or just plain force you to stay. If you don’t believe me, ask Kori why her sister’s still with Tower.”
But I didn’t need to. As long as Kenley still had a brother, grandmother, or anyone else she cared about, Tower would have a way to control her.
“It’d be the same with Cavazos,” Kori said as I pulled the building shadows up to our shins. I couldn’t go much farther than that without them being noticed. “That’s how he got the two of you.”
Olivia nodded. “And neither of us are anywhere near as powerful as you are,” she added, looking straight at me. “You’re going to wind up serving someone. Your only real choice is who that will be.”
“Maybe,” I said, and the shadows built higher, churning faster as my pulse began to race. I wrapped one arm around Kori’s waist, sliding my hand beneath her shirt to make necessary skin contact without compromising her aim. “But last I checked, that was still my choice. Give my best to Cavazos.” Then I pulled the shadows up around us like a cocoon, as fast as I could. Faster than I’d ever done it before.
“Hey!” Olivia shouted, as we disappeared behind the shield of darkness I’d built in broad daylight. But there was no gunfire. Cam couldn’t risk hitting me.
Kori laughed out loud, a giddy release of tension and a celebration of the darkness that was a part of both of us. Then she tugged me forward. A single step later, everything changed.
We were inside—I could tell from the silence, and the absent scents of grass and trees. Those were replaced almost instantly with other familiar scents.
Dust. Wood. Wine.
I let the darkness around us melt into the ambient shadows, revealing a dimly lit wine cellar. A huge wine cellar. This wasn’t someone’s private collection. This was the real thing.
“Where are we?” I said, and I only realized my hand was still on her stomach when she turned to scold me with one finger pressed against her lips.
“Shh.”
I let her go reluctantly, missing her warmth the minute it was gone. “I take it we’re not supposed to be here?” I whispered.
“Not without an appointment and a traditional front-door entry. This is a local winery—the closest place I could think of that would be dark during the day. They have a vineyard outside the city, but this was closer and safer to travel into, since I’ve actually been here with Jake several times. They make his favorite wine.”
“Wow.” I pulled a bottle from the nearest rack and glanced at the label. I’d never heard of the brand, but that wasn’t surprising, since it was local. “Are they any good?”
Kori shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong person.”
“You just haven’t found your favorite yet. Or you’re drinking it at the wrong temperature. Either of which can be remedied.” I slid the pinot noir back into its slot and went in search of a good starter wine.
“Hold it down,” she repeated, following me through the cellar, which was obviously used as more than storage. When I turned the corner around the next floor-to-ceiling rack, I found tables and chairs set up for a wine tasting, though nothing was set out at the moment.
“Can you point me to the whites? Maybe a pinot grigio…” I mumbled, rounding the nearest table toward another set of racks on the other side.
“No, I can’t.” Kori grabbed my arm with the hand not still gripping Olivia’s gun. “Ian, we have to go. I have to tell Jake that Cavazos tried again.”
I stopped and met her gaze, unable to quell the nerves churning in my stomach. “Are you under specific orders to report the very event that only almost took place? No one was hurt. No guns were fired. There was no public spectacle.”
She thought about that for the moment and finally slid the safety switch into place on Olivia’s nine millimeter and handed it to me—she couldn’t carry it now that the fight was over. “I guess not. But if he finds out from someone else—”
I tucked the gun into my waistband for lack of a holster. “If he finds out, I’ll take the blame. I’ll tell him I wanted to explore his favorite winery.” If we reported a second poaching attempt, Tower might assign extra security, which would render my plan completely useless. And that was the best-case scenario. “If we go make your report now, what are the chances that he’ll ask me to sign on the spot?”
Kori shrugged. “Pretty good. But what does that matter, if you’re going to sign anyway?” Which I’d told her I’d do. The lies were getting complicated.
“That would be robbing me of my last day of freedom, and I really want this last day, Kori. If I’m going to be stuck either bound to or running from the syndicate for the rest of my life, I’m damn sure going to have one last day of freedom. If you’d known what was coming before you signed, wouldn’t you have wanted the same thing?”
“I still want that,” she said, and the truth of the statement echoed in her words. And suddenly I had to know.
“Was Olivia right? If I refuse to sign, will Tower kill me?” I could hardly see her eyes in the dim light, but I saw enough to know there was something she hadn’t wanted to say in front of Olivia and Cam.
“Yes. And if you were a normal potential recruit, he’d probably put a bullet in your brain. But because you’re special and everyone wants you, if I can’t recruit you I’m under orders to take you to Heartland Pharmaceuticals.”
“You’d turn me into a vegetable?” The choice wasn’t hers. I knew that. But it still hurt to hear her talk about my death.
“Not me. Jake. And no, not a vegetable. The whole world knows about you, Ian, and half the city knows Jake’s trying to recruit you. If you disappear, people will try to track you, and if you’re alive—even as a vegetable—they’ll find you. If I can’t recruit you, Jake won’t be able to use you as a blood cow. So he’ll have you completely drained.”
Nineteen
Kori
Ian’s eyes widened, but he looked more hurt than surprised. He’d known, at least on some level, that there were only two ways out of the mess we were both in: service or death.
And with the latest betrayal to slide off my tongue, most of my secrets were out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you that this morning, but then you said you’d sign, so I didn’t see any reason to threaten you with death and the posthumous sale of your blood.”
“You’d really do it? You’d turn me over to be drained just because Tower told you to?” The disappointment and betrayal in his gaze stung like little else I’d ever felt.
“I—” The answer was there, ready to go. It didn’t require thought. So little did, with Jake pulling my strings. But the words wouldn’t come out, and the new thoughts blocking them made me close my mouth. Then my eyes.
What good would it do to turn him over to Jake? Both Kenley and I were screwed anyway, if things went that far south.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said at last. “Physically, I’d have no choice. Resisting the c
ompulsion would kill me unless Jake rescinded the order. And he won’t. But if I turn you over to him, he’ll kill me anyway, for failing to recruit you. So…”
And suddenly it all looked so clear.
“No, I wouldn’t.” Because I was going to die either way, and at least this way, I’d go out without having first killed an innocent man. Ever. And that might just be the only point of honor for me to look back on if my life really flashed before my eyes in those last few seconds.
I’d killed for Jake, of course. I’d had no choice. But he had never—up till now—ordered me to kill someone who wasn’t at least as guilty as I was.
Ian’s gaze never left mine. He was watching me think, and I wondered if he could read any of those thoughts on my face.
“You know none of that matters, though, right?” I said. “If I don’t hand you over to Jake, someone else will.”
“None of it matters, because I’m going to sign,” he said, and again I wished for just a second that I was a Reader. He looked like he meant it, but he also looked like there was something he wasn’t saying.
I thought about demanding the whole truth, right there on the spot, but then, in an unprecedented display of common sense, I held my tongue. Some secrets are kept for a reason and spilling them prematurely can mean spilling blood, as well. His silence was meant to protect someone. Probably himself, but maybe me. So I decided to wait.
Then I hoped I’d made the right decision.
“We should take Tower a bottle,” Ian said when he finally looked away, and some small bit of the tension inside me eased. “What does he like?”
“I don’t know. Something dark red.”
“You’ve eaten with him, right? What does he order most often?”
I’d spent years shadowing Jake. Protecting him. I’d seen him order dinner a thousand times.
He liked a thick cut of tenderloin, still cool in the middle. His baked potato came with salt and butter only, his mashed with a hint of garlic. And to drink, he ordered…
“Cabernet Sauvignon. Sometimes Bordeaux.”
“Okay.” Ian nodded. “Bordeaux is a blend, and I’m not familiar with this label, so the Cab may be a better bet.” He started pulling bottles from the racks, reading the labels then sliding them back into place, working his way down one aisle and into the next until finally he read a label and smiled. “This should work.” He held the bottle up for me to see, but other than the familiar icon on the label, I had no idea what I was looking at. “And maybe one for us…” He handed me the wine, then turned back to the rack.
I studied the bottle I held, surprised by how thick the glass was, especially at the bottom, where there was a pronounced dip in the base—a mountain of glass rising into the dark liquid. In the movies, I’d seen people whack bad guys with beer bottles, but holding my very first bottle of wine, I was convinced that it would make a much more effective weapon. Assuming I could compensate for the greater weight. Maybe an empty bottle…
I swung experimentally, and in one smooth motion, faster than I would have thought possible, Ian’s hand shot out and the bottle thunked into his palm in the middle of my swing. “That is not a weapon.”
“Everything’s a weapon, if you know how to use it.”
His brows rose. “You’re holding a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine, and all you want to do with it is bash someone’s head in? I think that statement clearly illustrates the source of your problems. Everything doesn’t have to be a fight, Kori.”
“And that statement clearly illustrates the source of your problems.” I enjoyed throwing his own words back at him. “You’re chin-deep in the fight, and you don’t even know it.”
“I know it,” he insisted, and suddenly that seemed possible. The rare somber look in his eyes hinted at some dark depth I hadn’t truly seen yet. “My point is that some weapons are more suited to a delicate touch than to blunt-force trauma.”
“I’m a blunt-force trauma kind of girl, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I have. And so has Tower. Part of your problem is that he knows what to expect from you. So let’s give him something new.” Ian held the bottle up, like he was modeling it for a commercial. “Think of Jake Tower as the fly, and this bottle as the honey.”
“Ooh, are we going to poison the honey?”
His brows rose higher. “No.”
“Then how is it a weapon?”
“It’s a distraction meant to outshine any report of trouble in the park. More a shield than a sword.”
“Just as well.” I sighed. “Killing Jake isn’t an option.” And it never would be. In fact, I dreaded the day of his death almost as much as I dreaded every breath he took. When Jake died, something worse would rise from his ashes to claim his kingdom.
Ian was watching me again, like maybe he’d heard more than I’d actually said. Then he handed me the bottle with a warning frown and turned back to the racks.
“Why do you know so much about wine?” I asked as he read label after label.
“My father was an enthusiast. He tried to make his own several times when I was a kid, but by the time I was old enough to share his passion, he’d admitted defeat and committed to enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labor.”
“Oh. My dad drank tequila. The kind with the worm in the bottle.” In fact, that was my clearest memory of him. “Your dad teach you about fighting, too?” I asked, and Ian chuckled.
“My dad was a pacifist. He marched in antiwar rallies before I was born.”
“And your brother was a soldier? I bet Thanksgiving was interesting at your house.”
“Yeah.” Ian glanced at me, then pulled another bottle from the rack. “Where’d you learn to fight?” he asked, and I got the impression he was trying to change the subject.
“My grandmother said I needed a healthy way to burn energy and express my natural aggression, so she enrolled me in my brother’s martial arts class when I was ten. I loved it.”
“I’d say it loved you, too,” he said, and before I could reply, something creaked from the other side of the cellar—a door swinging open—and light flooded the entire room. I froze, my heart racing. Footsteps clomped down a set of stairs I couldn’t see from our position, and my hand clenched around the neck of the bottle, now slick with nervous sweat.
I backed toward the end of the aisle, my boots silent on the floor, and Ian followed, both of us peering through the open racks at what we could see of the rest of the cellar. High stools around high tables. The dark wood bar that had been lined in wineglasses and manned by two servers at every event I’d accompanied Jake on. And the open space in the middle of a cellar full of racks, where guests would mingle, and gossip, and examine the collection surrounding them.
Jake’s wine-tasting parties were interminably dull, and I’d sometimes wished someone would try to kill him, just to bring a little excitement into the most boring room I’d ever stood in.
Now I had excitement, and I wanted nothing more than the dark, quiet cellar back.
“As you can see, there’s plenty of room for the event, and we can set up more tables,” a man said, and I recognized the slightly nasal voice of John Yard, the winery’s events coordinator.
“How are you fixed for lighting?” Another man asked as their steps echoed closer. “This is nice for ambience, but my wife will fuss if the light isn’t sufficient for people to admire her shoes.”
“That’s not a problem.”
A switch flipped somewhere and another set of lights came on. I flinched, though the cellar was still much dimmer than the park in broad daylight. This was starting to feel too familiar. An underground room. No windows. Someone standing between me and the exit. Darkness that should have been a comfort to me, made terrifying by the light source caging me.
Shadow Bound (Unbound) Page 26
