Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2)

by Claire, Nicola

  She'd had a tough night.

  But then, so had I. Thinking the worst had happened and not getting any sleep.

  I pushed the door to her bathroom open and met a wall of steam. The sound of water running and sluicing down a plug hole met the sharp intake of a gasp as she found an injury that caused great pain.

  Lena didn't usually complain. If she was injured, she'd hide it. But not from me. Not anymore. We may not have settled all our differences, but the writing was on the wall.

  She'd kissed me back. There was no denying we both wanted more.

  My fists clenched as I watched the outline of her body behind the frosted glass. Knowing she was naked on the other side. Soaped up and slippery, begging for my touch. My heartbeat sped up. My throat became desert dry. I licked my lips, sucked in a deep breath, and reached out for the door to the shower, pulling it aside.

  Then met the barrel of a gun in a shaking hand, that for a brief moment managed to consume my attention. Until I realised she was standing there naked, soapy and slippery. But, perhaps, not begging for my touch.

  "Have you gone mad?" I growled out.

  "Have you?" she snapped back. "I'm in the shower."

  "I hadn't noticed." Liar. "What the fuck were you thinking last night?"

  "I had a reason."

  "You always have a reason, but was it good enough this time to get killed over?"

  "I survived."

  "Barely."

  "Can we discuss this after I'm done here?" she asked, the shaking in her hand now a full blown wobble.

  Her knees buckled at the precise moment I'd decided to give in. And when I stepped into the shower, water spraying my entire body, head to toe, in seconds, I thanked my lucky stars I hadn't turned away yet. Because her body, naked, soapy, slippery and wet, against my chest was perhaps the single best moment of my life.

  "Lena," I said on a breath of expelled air. The gun clattered to the ground.

  "Don't," she whispered, burying her face in the crook of my neck. "Just don't."

  I have no idea if the warning was for me to stop chastising. Or for me to stop holding her and let her be. Or for me to stop wanting her. I don't know. But I decided I'd ignore it completely, because if she was going to be spending any time in my bed, she'd have to get used to the fact that I didn't follow direction too well.

  If at all.

  "Are you hurt?" I asked, after a moment. Her head nodded. "Where?" I pushed.

  "Everywhere." And I was picking some of those places I could not mend.

  "Then let me look after you. Please."

  Silence. Her body as still as my heart.

  Then, finally and thank you God, she nodded, letting me carry her from the shower and back into her room. It took everything in me not to pounce on her, but one look at the grimace of pain on her face when her hip hit the bed and I knew what she needed was not that kind of loving. But another. The one I'm not too good at giving.

  The one I would try my hardest to perfect for her.

  Chapter 6

  You Want To Play?

  Lena

  Trent sucked in a deep breath of air when he inspected my hip. His brow furrowing, his deep blue eyes simmering with anger, mixed with a huge dose of concern.

  "Laser?" he asked, shifting to bring a medical bag closer. He rummaged in it while I got my pain receptors to behave.

  "Ah-huh," I murmured.

  "What happened to the drone?" he asked, lips turned down in a grimace.

  "You didn't see?"

  "The street-cams cut off once the old man got killed."

  Being reminded of Jun's grandfather wasn't welcome, but Trent's words were even more of a worry right then.

  "Why would they stop filming? The Cardinals would have wanted to keep an eye on how things progressed."

  He shrugged, returning with some ointment and a bandage, ready to administer first aid. I wondered if his care would make any difference to the drug that was currently coursing through my veins.

  I knew the answer to that, so I concentrated on something else instead. Like the way Trent's hair fell forward over his forehead when he leaned in close to inspect my wound.

  "Beats me," he offered, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin on the side of my thigh. Thankfully distracting me from the sharp pain his finger made as he applied the ointment. "Harjeet thinks a malfunction."

  "And what does Si think?" I asked, not trusting Harjeet one little bit. He may have provided us with accommodation, financing and a hell of a lot on top of that, but the man was up to something. I just hadn't worked out what.

  Trent's eyes flicked up to my face, a twitch on the edges of his lips breaking into a smile. Anyone would think he was pleased I disregarded Harjeet's opinion right off the bat.

  "Si thinks it's because they know we hack them and wanted us to be blind. They had enough drones on the ground to deal with the situation. They didn't need eyes in the sky."

  I thought about that for a moment, worry at us being detected an ever present concern. If they knew we hacked the street-cams, could they hack the hack?

  We really weren't safe anywhere, in a country that was meant to be the safest on earth.

  "Don't worry," Trent said, reading my mind it seemed. "He's got us securely hidden out of their sights, but it does mean they're taking us seriously."

  "When have they not?"

  Trent sat back, the bandage complete.

  "Right up to the moment General Chew-wen was killed," he replied, looking me in the eyes, then turning to tidy his supplies.

  I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, cringing at the stab of pain in my side. I'd pulled a sheet over my body while he'd been playing doctor, I used it now to cover all the important parts.

  Trent sat back on his heels and let his eyes roam over my frame from head to toe. It felt as though the sheet wasn't even there. The blue of his eyes sizzled, becoming a storm tossed sea.

  I cleared my throat. His unabashed gaze lifted to my face, the smile now cocky.

  "What did you learn?" he asked, and if there was one thing I admired about Trent Masters, it was his ability to realise potential in everything. Including what would have appeared a disastrous evening on my part.

  I didn't want to mention my Shiloh unit. Explaining how important it was to me wouldn't cover the risk he saw me take. He'd only react badly. But there was more to my Parnell home visit than just that.

  "The concierge of my apartment complex sold me out."

  I waited for him to challenge me on the reason I was there, and for a moment I'm sure he wanted to. But he bit his lip and just raised an eyebrow for me to go on.

  "It seems the Overseers are bargaining with non-model Citizens in order to gain information on us."

  "Us or you?" he immediately asked. Then added, "And how was he non-model?"

  "Replica dosed," I offered in answer to his second question. "And maybe it was just me, but we can't assume that."

  "Yeah," he agreed, running a hand over his face. I noticed he had shadows under his eyes. He hadn't slept and for some reason that made me smile. Which was just wrong. "It would be unwise to think they wouldn't go to such lengths for us as well."

  "He failed his test," I explained further. "From what he said, he had no choice but to help them. I believe he told them I was there. The entire apartment had been shutdown. The moment I entered my key-code on the ranch-slider, it would have activated in his office on the ground floor."

  Trent let out a disgruntled huff, but didn't comment.

  "He did come up and warn me," I offered, somehow wanting to defend Augustine's actions. Who were we to judge when he'd been faced with the possibility of his entire family being wiped? All because he didn't want to smoke a Tyger Menthol cigarette, drink Haldor's XXX Beer or swallow a Serenity Tab.

  "Good of him," Trent deadpanned. "Anything else?" he asked, standing.

  And I suddenly felt bereft that he was leaving so quickly.

  Then he sat down at t
he chair beside my desk making my entire body relax. I was sure he noticed. Not much got past him.

  For a second I considered not telling him about the teenagers and the wealth of information they could provide. Using them in any capacity felt... inappropriate. If I was honest with myself, I was ashamed. Then there was the fact that I might be compromised by an opiate drug administered through a drone's laser beam. I could just imagine the restrictions he would place on me once he knew I was a danger to the team. And, on top of all of that, there was the wannabe zebra impersonations, which not only endangered young lives needlessly, but made me look like a heroine when I was no such thing at all.

  And his reaction to that would be to laugh. I just wasn't up for it right now.

  So, I sat there and stared at him, aware he knew I was holding back. Knowing I had to get it all out there, for their safety, for everyone's safety. To protect him.

  But unsure how to even start.

  "You hungry?" he asked suddenly, giving me a reprieve when he'd never done that before.

  I nodded.

  "Let's go eat," he said, holding out his hand once he'd climbed to his feet. I looked up at him, so tall, so full of life it made me crave being near, and I couldn't help thinking I was out of my depth.

  With him. With all of this. A war I hadn't asked for but was right in the centre of now.

  And I couldn't hold back what I'd learned. Not even for a chance to pretend this wasn't my reality. I had to tell him.

  I opened my mouth.

  Then closed it again.

  Open. Close. All the while he watched. Hand still extended, patient look on his face.

  "I'm not dressed," I finally managed to say. Not what I had intended, but at least I wasn't making Koi Fish impersonations anymore.

  "Oh," he said, a slow smile spreading his lips. "I'd forgotten about that." He had? His eyes told me otherwise, as they travelled a familiar path over my form. "Are you going to remedy that?" he asked, not moving away to give me space.

  "Wait for me outside," I suggested.

  "Now, why would I do that?" he drawled, leaning back on the side of the desk, arms crossed, legs stretched out in front of him, appreciative and eager look to his face.

  "You are not watching," I growled.

  "Lena," he said with a dazzling smile. "One day you'll dance naked for me, then beg for my touch. And you know what?" he said, leaning his upper body forward, a glint of mischief on his face. He didn't wait for my answer. "I'll make you work for it, Elite. Because everything worthwhile in this life, is worth working hard for. And, sweetheart, I'm definitely worthwhile."

  Sometimes I wondered if he even heard himself when he spoke. His ego must have affected his ears.

  "Great," I replied with a simpering smile. "As soon as I decide to work for it, I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, get out of my room."

  I cocked my head and waited for his comeback.

  His mouth opened. Closed. And opened again. Then he shook his head, scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks and pushed off from the table's surface.

  "I'll wait outside," he offered, and then walked through the door.

  It clicked shut behind him, but I knew the lock was only for show. So I crossed to the table, picked up the chair he'd used, and thrust it under handle of the door. Then stood back and looked at my handiwork.

  Eating didn't seem so important any longer. And I'd showered enough to feel somewhat clean. My injury was tended to, as well. So I finished brushing my teeth, doing any other ablutions I needed, and then crawled into bed.

  Knowing I was avoiding the main issue. Knowing I was pretending Trent was the problem and not me. Knowing tomorrow, or later today depending on how long I slept, I'd have to face up to the facts and tell him everything.

  But for now, sleep was more important, so I closed my eyes and felt myself drift deeper immediately.

  Until there was a knock on the door.

  My eyes blinked open, staring at the bedside clock, wondering how long Trent would bang on the thing before he tried the key-code and found the door barred. Then realised the clock said five in the afternoon and I'd been asleep for eight hours.

  My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since yesterday, and suddenly it seemed like a good idea. Then I was reminded of the task waiting for me this evening, and food took second place to finding my courage.

  The knock sounded out again and it was clearly not Trent. Too light. Too perfect. Three short taps of a small fist and nothing else.

  Isha.

  I pulled on underwear, jeans and a t-shirt, slipped my feet into flats and ran a brush through my hair. By the time I opened the door I was Citizen presentable, if not Elite perfect. No make-up. No jewellery. But I had pocketed my Swiss Army knife and an ever useful laser pointer. Hardly an arsenal, but it made me feel better.

  "Yes?" I said to the young D'awan girl standing in a pristine k'ri k'ri, black hair gleaming, almond shaped eyes made up to the nines. She was young, but she was putting it out there.

  "Harjeet wants to see you," she announced and spun on her heel.

  "What if I'm busy?" I called out.

  "Sawing logs?" she threw over her shoulder in D'maru.

  "You do know I can understand you, right?" I said back in D'maru.

  "Anglisc, Selena. You know the rules," she clipped, her imitation Elite grating on my nerves.

  Something about this girl got my back up, and it usually took a lot to do that.

  I followed behind like the obedient woman I'd been raised to be, hating every step I took towards the man who had effectively offered us sanctuary. I should have felt grateful, thankful even. But Harjeet Kandiyar was not a man to take at face value.

  Something sinister lurked behind the fascinating façade. Something you knew you shouldn't be drawn to, but couldn't help being sucked closer every time. He was like a black hole, you couldn't hope to escape him.

  But I was raised Elite. We were above all others. Even handsome, picture perfect D'awans in national p'ta r'aru dress. It was always a feast for the eyes when you saw Harjeet. I could appreciate the package, even if I knew it hid a bomb beneath the wrapper.

  But we needed him. And he knew it. For now it was a game of cat and mouse that he'd decided I'd be the one to play. I saw the way Trent reacted to him. How all the revolutionaries did. No doubt Harjeet had seen it too.

  So he'd decided I'd be the one he'd chip away at. I'd be the weak link in their armour to get him whatever the hell it was he wanted in the end.

  I walked into his private quarters knowing I was walking into the lion's den. And all I could think was, here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

  You want to play? Then bring it.

  Golden eyes lifted to mine and I swear he read my mind. A knowing smile curving his lush lips.

  Damn. I'd forgotten. I was the zebra in this analogy. And lions tended to eat them.

  Chapter 7

  What Had I Just Done?

  Lena

  "Honourable Selena Carstairs," Harjeet greeted, rising from his recline on a colourful couch, swathed in bright and luxurious fabrics. His movements were sleek and smooth. A glide of muscles under the shimmer of his long line r'aru jacket. Today he'd gone all out. The r'aru was a rich jacquard in reds and golds, the p'ta a deep forest green silk.

  But unlike his usual attire, this was definitely meant to be pyjamas; the cut more casual, the fit relaxed. What with the candles burning and the soft music playing, I could have sworn he was going for seduction.

  I had to work hard not to smile.

  "Citizen Harjeet Kandiyar," I returned, taking the seat he indicated with a sweep of his long arm.

  He waited for me to position myself before he sat. I felt entirely too overdressed in my jeans and t-shirt, and strangely a little underdressed, at the same time. Harjeet could make you feel that way, his perfect D'awan attire often outshining anything the rebels wore. Had I been in my former environment, I would have felt appropriately matched.
/>   As it was, the further I found myself emotionally from the Elite of Broadway, the more often I felt out of my depth when back in their presence. Harjeet was Citizen through and through, but to look at him you wouldn't know it. I reeled a little at the dichotomy.

  He began pouring tea on a silver tray to the side, where a delightful array of pastries sat waiting. My stomach grumbled at the offering, and I had a disquieting sensation that he might just succeed with food when he wouldn't have with seduction.

  I accepted the delicate porcelain cup he handed and took a sip once he'd lifted his own off the tray. His eyes, an amber so light they often did look golden like a lion's, held my gaze.

  "You had an interesting night, my dear," he said, then blew softly over the rim of his cup and waited patiently.

  "Is that Gulab Jamun from Moghul's?" I asked, purposely evading his question.

  "The one and only," Harjeet replied, humouring me, I was sure. "The best sweet shop in Little D'awa, wouldn't you say?"

  "May I have one?" I asked, and tried to think of an evasive answer to his original question while he moved to place the round dessert on a dish and hand it to me.

  I concentrated on eating and drinking for a while, relieved Harjeet let me. Aware it was at his discretion and could end at any moment. That's how Harjeet worked, I'd discovered. He controlled practically all of Little D'awa. Park Road was his domain, and anyone foolish enough to enter it would be wise to remember that fact.

  The sooner we found more appropriate accommodations for the rebel base the better. But although I owned property in Wáikěiton, under my Lena Carr identity that would have suited, Elliott Street was now Cardinal territory. The last time I visited to see just how bad things had become, Wang Chao had actually been there.

  I placed the plate I'd been eating from to my side, an unfinished Gulab Jamun sitting forlornly in its centre. I swallowed a mouthful of tea to wash the overly sweet aftertaste away and lifted my gaze to Harjeet's. Life was no longer simple, I couldn't afford to not look it in the face.