Lying In Ruins

by Jami Gray

  She nodded and got on her bike. Time to go feed her hunger.

  Not that one, a wicked little voice whined.

  She gritted her teeth and shot it a mental finger.

  Chapter 14

  Sitting across the table from Charity, Ruin tipped his chair back on two legs, his shoulders braced by the wall, and balanced a sweating glass of beer against his stomach. Full of damn fine barbeque, his mood was mellow as he kept an eye on Agatha’s patrons. Kennewick might not be a hotbed of nightlife, but enough people were out and about despite being long past the dinner hour.

  Under the questionable glow of solar-powered lights, locals mixed easily with travellers. Even with the irregular illumination it wasn’t hard to tell who was who. The locals gathered around various tables in relaxed groups, their voices and mannerisms low-key. Visitors congregated near the bar, their interactions interspersed with the occasional overly loud laughter, which earned jaded glances from the locals. It was a familiar scene and one he was happy to simply watch. Too bad the jet-haired barmaid who kept his beer filled wanted his participation in something more than talk. As if the very thought conjured her up, she headed his way,

  Working her exceptional body with undaunted confidence—Kitty? Katy?—damned if he could remember, sidled up to the table. ‘Need another refill, baby?’

  He hefted his almost full glass. ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  She gave him an artful pout. ‘Well, just holler when you’re ready for another.’

  Charity’s sweet as pie request came from across the table. ‘Karen, sugar, you mind getting me another?’

  Ruin lifted his glass to his lips hoping to hide his grin. Bless her heart, the woman could make nice downright evil when she wanted.

  Karen’s pout tightened for the briefest moment before smoothing into her professional service smile. ‘Of course, be right back.’ She swiped Charity’s empty glass with enough force to leave skid marks, then turned and stalked back to the bar. Her passage caught every male eye in her wake. He gave her credit, it was fairly impressive. Problem was, right now his interest was tangled up in the bundle of trouble sitting across from him. It should annoy the shit out of him that when presented with a luscious offer, he couldn’t muster an ounce of curiosity, but it was what it was.

  ‘Must be hard to be you.’ Between the murmur of conversations and underlying music from the guitar trio in the corner, Charity’s comment was low enough to stay between them.

  Lowering his glass, he turned to her. ‘How so?’

  Sitting tailor-style in her chair, elbows braced on the tabletop, chin in her hands and the tail end of her braid lying over her shoulder, she batted her ridiculously long eyelashes at him and adopted a breathless voice. ‘If there’s anything, anything at all, that I can do you for—’ another exaggerated blink, ‘—I mean do for you, just let me know.’ She wrinkled her nose, and her voice went back to its normal husky timbre. ‘Doesn’t it get old?’

  Unable to resist her inadvertent opening, he drawled, ‘Jealous, darlin’?’

  She cocked her head to the side, a small frown creasing her brow. ‘Why would I be?’

  ‘Isn’t that a normal female thing?’ He got a kick out of watching colour rise along her cheeks.

  ‘What? Deliberately dropping IQ points to gain a guy’s interest?’ She shifted until her head was propped on one hand and waved the other around. ‘You’re free to take her up on her offer.’ She gave him a sly look. ‘Just didn’t think you were into pretty and deliberately dumb.’ She paused, holding his gaze, then threw down her challenge. ‘Guess I was wrong, uh?’

  So she wanted to play? He could get with that. ‘I think I’ve just been insulted.’

  In answer, she aimed a Cheshire grin his way.

  Deliberately holding her smug gaze, he dropped his chair legs to the floor. Carefully setting his beer to the side, he folded his arms on the table’s top and leant in, happy to see an edge of wariness creep into her bright eyes. ‘If you wanted to know what turns me on, Charity, all you have to do is ask.’ Said the spider to the fly.

  Her tongue made a quick swipe over her lips, a small nervous tell that fed the prowling hunger inside him. ‘Why would I do that?’ Her question was low, but he caught the underlying tinge of curiosity.

  ‘Because part of you wants to play as much as I do.’ He didn’t bother hiding the hunger grinding against his control, the same hunger that whipped him from perverse curiosity to gnawing frustration to simmering anger and back in an infinite cycle. Slowly, he reached out and wrapped his hand around her narrow wrist, pleased when he felt the butterfly beat of her pulse under his fingers. ‘Admit it.’

  She didn’t pull back from his hold. ‘And if I did, what then, Ruin?’ She uncrossed her legs and leant in, their faces close, and to anyone watching they’d seem like lovers deeply involved with each other. ‘If I told you I wanted to strip you down and take my time with you, would you let me?’

  His nostrils flared as lust sucker-punched him with the image her words painted. ‘In a fucking heartbeat. Only a fool would turn down an invitation like that.’

  Her slow smile was full of female wickedness. ‘It would take longer than that, darlin’.’

  ‘I’m counting on it.’ He watched the heat rise in her gaze with a visceral satisfaction. ‘Because I have every intention of returning the favour, and I take my detail work seriously. Very seriously.’

  Again with the quick tongue swipe that couldn’t hide the hitch in her breathing or her quickly doused flash of uncertainty. Whatever part of his answer that threw her off step, didn’t last long. ‘And when you’ve completed your work, what then?’

  ‘What? You looking for a lifetime commitment?’ he growled.

  Her laugh was soft. ‘No.’

  He brought her hand up to his mouth and nipped her fingers. ‘So, what’s holding you back?’

  Her other hand rose, and she drew her fingertips along the edge of his cheek and down his jaw, her nails scraping against his beard. ‘Did you happen to forget why we’re here? We can’t afford to be distracted.’

  Catching the wistful note behind her words, he felt the first vibration as she stepped into his seductive web. ‘Chances are good that nothing much will happen until tomorrow, and I can’t think of anything better to be distracted with. Can you?’

  Her gaze dropped to where he was slowly brushing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. ‘No.’ Her answer was soft. She swallowed, lifted her gaze to his, and tried to pull back. When he refused to let go, she stilled. ‘I learned a long time ago, it doesn’t pay to fuck someone you work with. It never ends well.’

  Whether she realised it or not, she just issued him a challenge. ‘Maybe you’ve been fucking the wrong people then?’

  She blinked and her mouth opened, but whatever she was going to say was cut off when a beer mug was slammed on the table between them. Amber liquid sloshed over the edges.

  ‘You need anything else?’

  He turned his head to see a fuming Karen. ‘Not right now.’

  She baulked at the edge of irritation in his voice, then with a huff turned on her heel and left. A muffled snort from Charity brought his attention back to her. ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She patted his cheek before twisting her wrist against his hold. He let go and she sat back, dragging her beer closer. ‘If you’re done flirting, how about you share your plan.’

  Letting her believe she shut him down, he reclaimed his beer and rocked his chair back into position. ‘Hounds weren’t the only ones who knew how to lie in wait. ‘My plan?’

  She pulled one leg up, using her knee to brace her arm. ‘Please tell me you have one.’

  He took a sip, avoiding her gaze.

  ‘Oh for the love of …’ She closed her eyes and grimaced, rubbing her forehead. He couldn’t catch whatever she muttered, but she opened her eyes and stared at him. ‘Do you know where the meet is being held?’

  He lifted his glass. ‘Kind of.’


  ‘You ‘kind of’ know where the meet is.’ Disbelief left a bite to her words.

  Since it wasn’t meant as a question, he didn’t bother answering it. ‘Shouldn’t take much to figure out where.’

  ‘Seriously? How do you figure that?’

  ‘Because Kennewick isn’t New Seattle. Options are limited.’

  ‘Not enough to pinpoint the spot by tomorrow. Dammit, Ruin. Didn’t your chew toy give you anything else?’

  ‘Yep.’

  She waited. When he kept silent, she reached across the table and snapped her fingers in his face. ‘Spill.’

  She was kind of cute when she got that frustrated frown going on. ‘He didn’t have much, but overheard someone mention Riverman and painted horses.’

  ‘Riverman and painted horses? That’s it?’ With a groan, she dropped her head into her hands. ‘God save me from fools.’

  Fool? Did she really think he’d haul ass to Kennewick when shit was serious in Pebble Creek? Gritting his teeth, he set his beer on the table. ‘Charity.’

  She lifted her head.

  ‘Look around. How well do you think Raiders would blend in?’

  She surveyed the other diners. ‘They timed their meet with the Faire.’

  Recognising her non-answer as a subtle fishing game, he answered, ‘To give themselves some thin layer of anonymity, but it won’t be enough.’ He watched her think it through. It didn’t take long for her to connect the dots. The Raiders would stick out like a sore thumb. Enough that whispers of their presence should already be wafting through the seamier side of the city. They just needed to ask the right person the right question.

  She traced the rim of her glass. ‘You won’t find them here.’

  ‘Nope, but you wanted to eat.’

  ‘Didn’t hear you complaining,’ she muttered. She worried her bottom lip, and he could practically see her mind spinning. Finally, she said, ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  He raised an eyebrow, wondering if she would share.

  She raised her glass and downed a healthy amount. She set it down and pushed back from the table to stand. ‘Make sure you give Karen a decent tip.’

  Guess not. That’s okay, he didn’t have any issue tagging along. For now. He drained the last of his beer before rising. ‘Why?’

  Charity shot him an exasperated look. ‘Because I don’t want her spitting in my food when we come back.’

  She had a point. It’d be a shame to miss out on more ribs. He tossed down some credits and followed her out of Agatha’s.

  Before they reached their bikes, Charity stopped on the sidewalk outside Agatha’s and looked around.

  Curious, Ruin asked, ‘You looking for someone?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Her answer was absent, then obviously spotting who or what she was looking for she said, ‘Wait here. I’ll be right back.’

  Before he could respond, she walked away. He watched her approach a lanky kid hanging in-between Agatha’s and the dark building next door. The kid straightened as she bore down, but didn’t bolt. There wasn’t enough light to make out his features, but that didn’t stop Ruin from keeping his eye on the unfolding discussion. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, but it didn’t hurt to have her back. Charity said something. The kid shook his head. Another question from her, an answer from him, her nod, his hand shooting out to take whatever she offered, then another exchange of words before she headed back to Ruin, the kid on her heels.

  Charity came up to his side and waved a hand to indicate the kid behind her. ‘This is Sam. He’s going to watch our bikes.’

  He eyed Sam, taking in the traces of dirt along the kid’s hack-job of a haircut and the worn state of his mismatched, too large clothes. ‘Watch or strip?’

  ‘Gave my word.’ Teenage bravado screamed to the fore as Sam’s chin lifted. ‘Promised the chick here I’d watch for two hours, then I’m out.’

  Ruin stepped around Charity, crowding Sam and forcing the man-boy to look up. Giving the kid his best hard-ass stare, the one he learned from Reaper, he kept his voice hard. ‘Find out your word is shit, I’ll hunt you down and take the price of my bike in body parts. Clear?’

  He gave the kid credit. Sam paled but didn’t back down. ‘Clear.’

  Behind him, Charity spoke up. ‘Two hours, Sam. Rest of payment then.’ She leant around Ruin to see the kid. ‘If the bikes are in the same shape we left them, I’ll get you a bonus.’

  Sam nodded.

  Ruin stepped back allowing him to move to sit on the edge of the sidewalk between the two bikes. Once the kid was settled, Ruin followed Charity, lengthening his stride to catch up. ‘You sure our bikes will still be there?’

  Completely unconcerned, she said, ‘Yep.’

  They wove their way down the street, passing others on their way to whatever they had planned for the evening. Keeping his attention on those they passed, he continued their conversation. ‘Why?’

  She gave him a look. ‘Instinct.’

  He stopped, disbelief bringing his steps to an abrupt halt. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  A few steps ahead, she stopped and turned to face him. She retraced her steps until she was directly in front of him, close enough their conversation couldn’t be overheard. Her voice was low but razor sharp, ‘In case you forgot, I grew up grifting, a lifestyle that relies on finely-tuned instincts, especially when it comes to people. And mine are telling me Sam will watch over our bikes for two hours. Since we’re on a clock, get your ass in gear.’

  Undaunted he snapped back, ‘One scratch on my bike and when I’m done with Sam, I’ll be turning to you.’

  She grinned. ‘Whatever.’ Turning on her heel, she headed back down the street. ‘Keep up, Vulture boy.’

  Grumbling under his breath about stubborn females and the accompanying pains they brought, he followed. She led him through what constituted Kennewick’s downtown. A snaking road of cracked asphalt made up the main drag, both sides lined with storefronts ranging from The Burnt Pipe, a smoke shop offering a wide selection of traditional tobacco or narcotic herb to Montestreso Outfitters, where clothing displays were arranged in darkened windows protected by sturdy iron bars. There was even a library tucked between a strip club and an antique store. Funny how a city’s main street evolved when you needed to set up shop out of the hungry river’s reach.

  Wherever Charity was headed, it wasn’t in the nicer part of town. The further they went, the grimier and sketchier the neighbourhood became. After about fifteen minutes, she turned into a narrow alley between a shuttered bar decorated with graffiti and what appeared to be a burnt out abandoned storehouse. When a crawling sensation crept along his spine, he slid one of his knives free and held it along his side, keeping it tucked out of sight. The weight of the familiar hilt against his palm chased away some of the spidery feelings at the base of his skull.

  Charity continued about half way down the dark passageway, stopping under a feeble blue light. Drawing even with her, he realised she faced a rusted door bearing a yellow, hand painted image about eye level. It resembled a solid circle missing a pie-like portion. Puzzled, he looked to Charity. ‘What the hell is this?’

  She used her fist and hit the door three times. ‘An underground arcade den.’

  ‘Guess you’ve been to Kennewick before,’ he muttered just as a small square in the door slid open.

  A pair of eyes stared through the small opening.

  Charity ignored Ruin and said, ‘Julia Angwin.’

  There was a grunt, then the opening disappeared. Within moments dull thunks sounded indicating locks being unlatched, then the door swung wide. Charity stepped through, and he stayed on her heels. Red light and the dull haze of smoke hit them full force as they moved deeper into the narrow hall. He tried not to cough at the smoky assault and turned to catch a lanky form shoving the door closed behind them. The lanky form squeezed by him, leaving behind the impression of dark hair cut close to the skull, the brush of a flannel shirt, and the unique, overwhelming scent
of patchouli mixed with someone who didn’t like showers. The stranger moved in front of Charity, waved his hand forward, and headed down the hall that disappeared in the uncertain lighting. Charity followed. Ruin brought up the rear, trying to breathe through his mouth to spare his nose.

  The hall opened abruptly into a vast space, spilling people and machines in its wake. Their guide remained mute, waved them forward, then turned and went back down the hall. Once he was gone, Ruin took in the scene. Old-style arcade games were clustered into groups, forming strange pods. Booths were tucked along the walls, each one featured either a laptop or desktop computer. The exterior walls were painted black and laced with snaking wires and cables. Illumination was limited to the screens and clusters of strung lights.

  The din of computerised warnings of imminent attack and high-pitched beeps competed with shouts and groans from those either playing or watching. Tucking his knife away, he leant into Charity, putting his mouth close to her ear so he could be heard. ‘Where the hell do they get the electricity from?’

  She didn’t look at him. ‘They steal it from the other, nearby businesses.’

  ‘And they haven’t been shut down, why?’

  That got her to turn her head and grin, her teeth overly white in the dimness. ‘Because they have under-the-table deals with various powers that be.’

  ‘Figures.’

  ‘Come on.’ She grabbed his now empty hand and dragged him across the rough cement floors. Surprised by her unexpected move, he held on, not wanting to lose her touch. Thanks to the tangle of cords snaking across the ground, it wasn’t a straightforward path. Finding an empty booth, the tabletop strewn with crumbs and wadded up napkins, she dropped his hand and sat, scooting across the bench’s cracked fake leather. Finding a spot in the middle, she brushed off the worst of the crumbs and said, ‘Sit, Ruin.’

  Sliding into the booth, it took him a few minutes to find a comfortable position where he could stretch out his legs, instead of bumping his knees against the underside of the battered tabletop. Next to him, Charity dragged over the booth’s laptop, the security cord trailing along, and began typing away. He let a minute pass, wondering if she would explain what the hell they were doing in a place like this. No way would a Raider be here. When she didn’t speak up, he did. ‘What are we doing here?’