by Katee Robert
“Second question; would he hurt you if you let him close?”
Amarante blinked. “Do you mean physically or otherwise?”
“Either. Both.”
She took her time in answering. “Not physically. We did get… heated… last night, but it was a mutual thing. But no, he’s had several chances to get beneath my guard and harm me and hasn’t.”
Kenzie let that sit for a moment. “And emotionally?”
“I don’t know.” She wished she could say it wouldn’t hurt her to let him close even physically and then have him walk away again, but Amarante tried not to lie to herself. She couldn’t guarantee her reaction, just like she couldn’t guarantee what the future held at this point. “It’s entirely possible.”
“I don’t think you can scratch the itch and walk away, Te. You’re not really built like that.” Kenzie exhaled. “But don’t beat yourself up if you make that call. You’re human, and you’re doing the best you can.”
The best she could.
Right.
She just hoped it was good enough.
Chapter 8
Zhao took one look at Tristan’s face the next morning and banished him from the morning talks. As much as sitting in a room while they verbally circled and swiped at each other sounded like a little sliver of hell, Tristan resented the shit out of Zhao for keeping him from the one person in this godforsaken building he actually wanted to see.
He knew better than to cross the old man, though.
Instead, he stalked the hallways of the Warren. He wasn’t even particularly surprised to turn a corner and find Nic leaning against the wall. The man pushed off it and nodded. “You’re making my people nervous.”
“Maybe they should be nervous.” He sure as fuck felt like he was going out of his skin. Being so close to Amarante and not able to close that last bit of distance was driving him mad. It wasn’t just the fucking, though he’d be lying if he said the fucking wasn’t part of it. No, he just flat out missed her.
Nic shook his head. “Come on. They’ll be busy for a few more hours.”
He fell into step next to his friend. Tristan didn’t like that many people, but he’d felt that instant kinship with Nic that he felt when he met Amarante all those years ago. With one marked difference. He didn’t want to get into Nic’s pants.
They’d met when Zhao sent Tristan to the Warren to broker a small deal with an enemy that had become a nuisance. Negotiations ended early and Tristan had spent the rest of the week bullshitting with Nic. Since then, he made sure he visited quarterly for a day or two.
“You want to talk about it?”
He didn’t look over. “Nothing to talk about.”
“You sure?” Nic pushed open a door and into a secondary set of hallways. They looked indistinguishable from the one they just left, but Tristan knew better. They were in the part of the Warren meant for Nic’s people alone. The reaction in his friend was a small but notable relaxing of his shoulders. He glanced at Tristan. “You’re wound so tight, you’re practically a walking thundercloud. Dial it back.”
That was the problem. If he could dial it back, he would have already, and he’d be sitting across the table from Amarante instead of walking here. “She’s not safe with Zhao.”
Nic snorted. “No shit, she’s not safe with Zhao. That’s the whole purpose of having their meetings here instead of somewhere else. Nari is one of my best. She’ll take care of your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” Not anymore. Maybe not ever. He wasn’t sure. They’d never had to put a label on what they were, because what they were surpassed labels.
“Sure. Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He snorted. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“That’s because I’ve never been like this.” He didn’t feel like getting into the emotional bullshit of it. Nic was his friend, but he was still the ruler of the Warren, and that meant if it came down to a choice between preserving the Warren’s reputation and Tristan, he’d cut off Tristan’s head without hesitation. He’d feel bad about it afterward, but he’d do it.
He dragged his hands through his hair. “You’re sure she’s safe.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that so we can still be friends.” Nic slipped his hands into his pockets, his expression carefully blank. “She’s sitting in a room with your boss, Tristan. You taking a minute to stop and think about those implications? You that worried about him, why are you working with him?”
Tristan gave him the look that comment deserved. “Right. Because you were so fond of the last guy who ran the Warren.”
Nic held up his hands. “It’s a valid question. You feel this strongly about this woman, maybe working for her sworn enemy isn’t the right call. Maybe it never was.”
He wanted to snap back that Nic didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but they were too good of friends for it to be anything but a lie. Tristan picked up his pace even though they weren’t actually going anywhere, just wandering these halls to burn off some of his excess energy. “I was young when he got me. He offered me everything I wanted—a chance at money. A chance at power. I went from being a homeless pickpocket to having more money than I knew what to do with.”
“You had to know it wasn’t on the up and up.”
He snorted. “No shit, it wasn’t on the up and up.” Not the jobs Zhao sent him on, and not the old man’s reason for pulling him in. It took him too long to figure it out, but he’d been so consumed with climbing the ranks and putting as much money and power between him and the boy he’d been that there hadn’t been much room for reflection.
Losing Amarante shocked him down to his core, but by then it was too late. She was gone and he had exactly one thing going for him. He’d made it to the top in record time because he didn’t have the same hang ups that other guys did. When a person had already lost the only thing they cared about, it made everything else a lot clearer.
Plus, he lacked anything resembling a conscience. That helped, too.
Nic finally sighed. “You’re not going to settle down until you know she’s fine.”
“Pretty much.”
“You do realize you’re talking about Death, right? In a fight between her and Zhao, I’d have to think long and hard about placing my bets.”
Yeah, Tristan, too. In a fair fight, she’d win. But Zhao never fought fair, and he never even stepped onto the battlefield unless he was sure of his win.
He hadn’t come to the Warren to lose.
“You know, I had shit to do today that didn’t involve babysitting your ass.”
“Then go do it. I’ll handle myself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Nic shook his head. “Come on.” He led the way through a series of turns before opening a door that looked like every other one Tristan had walked past this morning. This one led to a short hallway with a locked door at the other end of it. Nic pressed his hand to the screen next to the door and the lock clicked open. “Try not to piss any of my people off.”
“Who, me?” He put on his most charming smile. “Everyone loves me.”
“I’d venture to say a good half of our world wants to stab you in the throat.”
“Like I said—everyone loves me.” He followed Nic through the door.
The Warren more than earned its name with its public hallways and rooms tucked away in unexpected places. Most of the guests never saw this side of the place. Not unless they’d fucked up so badly, Nic had to step in. In which case, they never lived to speak of it.
The staff hallways were mostly straight, which amused Tristan to no end. He followed Nic to one of the many surveillance rooms littered throughout the building. It wasn’t the main security room, of course; no matter how good of friends, Nic would never allow him access there.
After shutting the door, Nic keyed up the computer and pointed at the chair. “Sit.”
“Woof.”
“Asshole.”
He dropped into the chair and wat
ched Nic key in the password to get the system up and running. His fingers moved too fast for Tristan to track, but he wasn’t really trying. Their friendship was built on a fragile sort of trust. Tristan could answer Zhao’s questions honestly if he intentionally didn’t collect information while he was here visiting.
Better for everyone that way.
He didn’t think Zhao would move against the Warren. To do so and fail was a death sentence. To do it and succeed… He didn’t know what that would look like. It would rock their shadowy world to its core, and that wasn’t good for business, no matter what Zhao planned. The Warren only worked because everyone feared it equally. If they thought for a second that Nic was killable, or that the rules could be bent, they’d eat everyone in this building alive.
The screen cleared to show the same boardroom they’d been in the day before. Nari stood behind Amarante, and Lennox leaned against the wall behind Zhao. Amarante held herself perfectly straight in her seat, clothed today in another suit that would have been far too formal if a man was wearing it. Somehow, she pulled it off. She always did, though.
Zhao looked the same as ever. Crafty and in control and toying with his prey.
“Do we have sound?”
Nic snorted. “Of course we have sound. What kind of operation do you think I’m running here?” He clicked a button and Te and Zhao’s voices filtered through the speaker.
Zhao leaned forward. “You know, it’s rather telling that you choose that style. If you were more secure in your power, you’d dress like a woman.”
Nic made a choked sound. “That’s one kind of strategy.”
“Yeah.” Tristan leaned forward and frowned at the screen. Zhao wasn’t stupid. He had to know that this was a long shot under the best of circumstances, let alone if he was intent on pissing Amarante off during every meeting. Tristan had watched him skillfully manipulate those around him to get the end result he wanted. Which suggested that his stated goal might not be the real one.
Tristan clenched his jaw. “Can you turn this up?”
“Sure.” Nic hit a few more buttons.
Amarante didn’t so much as twitch. She stared coolly at her father. “You have a strange way of negotiating. Do you often talk like this to the other party, or am I special because I’m a woman?”
“You’re my daughter.”
That got a reaction, albeit a tiny one. Her shoulders went tight. “I have no mother. I certainly have no father.”
“You’re too old for teenage rebellion.”
Tristan thought that would break through her cool exterior. Amarante was only a teen—something like fifteen—when she earned the nickname Little Death in that camp. Zhao had to know that.
Then again, Tristan had long since given up trying to read the old man’s mind. He didn’t think Zhao would have thrown his only two children into hell and walked away without looking back, but he couldn’t fathom a logical reason why Zhao would have sent them there in the first place. Tristan was cold as shit, but they were just kids. Amarante was seven at the time.
“Easy,” Nic murmured.
He realized he’d fisted his hands at his sides and made himself relax. None of this information was new. She’d told him herself when they were friends all those years ago. Tristan had been shocked to discover the Horsemen were coming for Zhao, had been shocked to find out Zhao was behind Camp Bueller… until he’d really thought about it.
Zhao was responsible for all sorts of bad shit out in the world. Was it really surprising he’d stoop to Bueller levels? No.
It still didn’t explain sending his own flesh and blood there. If it was meant to be a proving ground the way he claimed, he should have scooped them up the second they escaped.
None of this lined up.
Amarante tapped her finger against the table. “You’re wasting both our time.” She looked at Zhao. Nothing showed on her face. No hurt, no irritation, no recognition at all. She’d bottled it all up. “You have only a couple days left of this summit. If you plan to spend it like you did yesterday, then I see no reason to stay.”
“Threats, Amarante?” Zhao gave a dry chuckle. “We both know you’re not walking out of here before the end of this.”
“Do we?”
“How can you expect to kill me if you turn tail and run at the first hiccup in your plan?”
She didn’t so much as react. “Murder on Warren property carries a significant punishment. I prefer my skin intact.”
“Ah, but you finally have your white whale. How long have you spent hunting me, even before you knew it was me?” Zhao still had the amused paternal expression on his face. “Your whole life. A quarter of a century wanting my head as punishment. What’s your life in compared with that kind of vengeance?”
That got the tiniest reaction. A tiny dip at the edges of her lips. Not a frown, but a reaction all the same. “I value my life more highly than that.”
“Without a doubt.” But Zhao had her exactly where he wanted her. He appeared too pleased for it to be anything but the truth. “But we’re not just talking about you, are we? There are three other Horsemen. And they’ve all acquired significant others, which we both know only translates to significant blind spots. Your ship is full of holes, daughter. It’s going down. There’s only one way to ensure all those soft, vulnerable spots remain safe, and that’s to remove me.”
“You’re making an excellent case for your death.” Amarante still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t stopped the slow and steady tapping of her finger. “It’s enough to make one wonder your motivation. Are you tired of living, Zhao? You’re an old man, after all. It’s been known to happen.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “If you’re interested in death by enemy, there are better ways to go about it.”
His mouth went tight, but almost instantly relaxed into a smile. “That was a well-placed barb.”
Nic hit the mute button. “I’m aware of your allegiance to Zhao.”
It took Tristan a few beats longer to tear his attention from the screen. Amarante was fine. She had been fine this whole time; she didn’t need him to protect her. But then, she never had.
He turned to Nic. “You have a reason for asking that question that isn’t a question.”
“If he attempts to break the neutral ground of the Warren, he will be punished. I don’t give a fuck who he is or how powerful he is outside these walls.” He stared hard at Tristan. “And if he commands you to do it, I’ll do the same to you, Tristan. We’re friends, but some things go beyond friendship.”
“I’m aware.” He glanced at the screen and made himself turn away. “I don’t know what his plan is.” That, in and of itself, wasn’t completely unusual. Zhao liked to play his cards close to his chest. But he tended to loop Tristan in on important shit—and this farce of a summit was important shit.
Nic’s green eyes turned speculative. “That’s rather telling, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I guess it is.”
Chapter 9
Every word out of Zhao’s mouth pricked at Amarante, poking and prodding and attempting to get a reaction. To what end, she had no idea. She’d come in expecting threats and a demand that she cease and desist in her systematic attacks against those beneath Zhao.
None of this had gone like she’d planned.
Zhao sat back and folded his hands over his stomach. “Come back to me and I’ll declare that little island of yours to be untouchable.”
She might have laughed if she wasn’t doing everything in her power not to leap across the table and stab him in the neck with her pen. Even without Tristan in the room, Nicholai’s people would ensure she didn’t succeed. “My island is untouchable.”
His grin widened. “Is it, daughter?”
The small hairs at the nape of her neck stood on end. “You know that old saying about honey and vinegar? Threatening my home is not the way to go bringing me around to your way of thinking.”
“I think we both know that you’re not going to be brought around without some heavy-handedn
ess on my part. Unfortunate, that.” He shrugged. “But a father does what he must.”
Rage rose in a tidal wave. She took a careful breath. Losing it now was out of the question. If he knew just how thoroughly he’d wormed his way beneath her skin, he’d go in for the kill. She still didn’t know what he wanted, either. Taking his offer at face value…
She wasn’t foolish enough to do so.
His threats, on the other hand, were something else altogether. “If you do anything to threaten my home or my family, it will be perceived as an act of war. There will be no need for this farce of a summit then, because there will be nothing left to say.”
Zhao held up his hands, still seeming amused. “I was simply thinking out loud. An island is so vulnerable in so many ways. I know it matters to you.”
A threat made with a smile was no less a threat. Amarante tilted her head to the side. “So what you’re saying is that you will leave what’s mine alone if I do as you demand. Interesting, considering if I join your operations, what’s mine becomes yours.” She would never join him. He was too smart to believe otherwise.
But then, smart men had been brought down by their own visions before. It was possible she was Zhao’s blind spot.
She didn’t think so, though.
Amarante had never had a problem looking at the playing field and knowing exactly what everyone on it would do before they did it. People were ultimately exactly as they appeared to be. Occasionally, they surprised her a little, but when push came to shove, everyone reverted to their base nature.
Zhao, on the other hand, defied understanding. She didn’t know why he’d sent her and Ryu away. She didn’t know why he’d come to her like this now, rather than treating her as the enemy she was. What she didn’t know could get her killed and see him walk free. Unacceptable. She had to be better than this. She was letting him get to her.
“Zhao Fai. Father.” She nearly choked on the word. “We can circle and beat our chests for the next few days, or you can provide a show of good faith to prove you mean exactly what you say.” She wouldn’t believe it for a moment, but she needed more information.
