He remembered something else. After he’d travelled through the dreamspace with Riley and her spirit had been ripped away from him, she’d been lost for hours. Later they’d figured it must have been her father who’d dragged her off. The images she’d seen while in his clutches had implicated Gregg in her mother’s murder. Some of her first words upon returning to her body had been to tell him she didn’t believe Gregg guilty of that murder.
“You tried to convince Riley I killed her mom.”
“Yes.”
Gregg didn’t know what he expected from Brussard, but the ready admission wasn’t it.
“All in the name of protecting my daughter,” he added.
Taylor made a strangled noise in her throat. “Your hypocrisy is unbelievable. You nearly killed her, you self-satisfied jug of dickjuice.”
Gregg couldn’t help his smirk. Taylor’s stint as a mercenary company pilot in the sandbox had given her an excellent command of the more colorful elements of the English language.
Brussard ignored her, focusing on Gregg. “You and I have business to discuss.”
“Do we?”
“We do. Perhaps you will put your weapon down and we can speak.” He looked at the other four occupants of the room. “Privately, if you don’t mind.”
“It is our fucking house,” Jamie said in a bored voice that did little to disguise his tension.
Brussard didn’t reply, merely looking at Gregg as if expecting him to clear the room. He finally lowered his weapon. Whatever the man wanted, Gregg needed to hear it.
“Please,” he said aloud to the three siblings, never breaking Brussard’s gaze.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Gregg winced at the outrage and betrayal in Taylor’s voice. Abruptly she marched to the door, flinging it wide so that it banged off the wall. Dalton followed, but she stopped him.
“Leave me the fuck alone. Besides, your master is here. Don’t you want him to scratch your belly? Maybe give you a treat? Go on, puppy. Go heel.”
She stormed away, and Dalton stepped back inside and shut the door, his face a mask of indifference. His damned silver eyes gave away nothing. If eyes were windows to the soul, then Dalton’s soul was a machine.
“Let’s go, Leo,” Jamie said, grabbing his jacket to follow Taylor. Leo paused on the threshold, giving his stepfather a pointed look. “We’ll be back soon. Don’t get too comfortable.”
The door shut again, leaving Dalton, Gregg, and Brussard. The latter looked at his henchman.
“You’re not wanted either.”
“I don’t work for you anymore.”
Brussard’s face flattened in annoyance. “Nor are you welcome, here.”
He snorted. “More welcome than you.” He glanced meaningfully at the doorway.
“Is this a hill you’re prepared to die on?” Brussard’s words lacked force, but Gregg believed the threat. Not that Dalton would die easy. He’d proven he had skills not to be underestimated. But it seemed he’d decided the battle wasn’t worth it. Wordlessly, he went to the door and stepped out.
“Let us get down to business,” Brussard said, sitting in a stuffed chair and crossing his legs. He gestured to the chair opposite. “Please sit.”
That he played host in the house rankled, given how much the man’s children clearly despised him. Nevertheless, Gregg obeyed. He held his gun in his lap. Brussard made no comment about it. Instead, he folded his hands and examined Gregg.
“Savannah released you.”
Gregg didn’t respond. He’d never been able to establish spies inside Savannah’s organization. At least none long enough or close enough to her to do any good. For Brussard to know she’d freed him meant his spies were well situated. Gregg made a mental note to rake through his own people for Brussard’s moles.
The other man examined his sleeve, brushing away an imaginary wrinkle before fixing his gaze on Gregg. It was laser sharp and acutely observant.
From the dossier Gregg had developed on Riley, he knew Vernon—formerly Samuel Hammond Hollis—had disappeared over ten years ago, and hadn’t been heard from since. No doubt that was when he’d changed his name to Vernon Brussard.
“Savannah was smart. Canny. Well liked in certain circles.”
Which? Gregg didn’t ask. Questions revealed as much as they demanded. He merely lifted his brows as if to say “get to the point.”
“Her ambition, however, led to an unhealthy obsession with the Kensington artifacts. Of course, she couldn’t be allowed to have them.”
“Of course,” Gregg agreed sardonically when Brussard paused to wait for a response.
“Bloody as her techniques could be, they were frequently effective. After this morning’s bombings, it was deemed likely that you would turn your artifacts over to her.”
Brussard paused again, but Gregg merely waited patiently without speaking, making himself stay outwardly relaxed. Who had deemed it likely? How could Brussard know about the three Kensington artifacts he’d collected? Did he also know about the vial of blood?
“The bombings have brought unfortunate attention to Diamond City. To allow her to continue in that vein would have been troublesome.”
To whose attention and troublesome for whom? Brussard’s carefully crafted sentences gave nothing away. “If you’re trying to convince me that killing Savannah was a good idea, I’m not arguing.”
The real problem was the vacuum. What happened now? Who would take over? Her husband? Possibly, but Gregg didn’t think Whit had the balls to run the organization. More likely there would be infighting with someone rising to the top, while other Tyets chewed off pieces of Morrell territory and business. Once news of the death made the rounds, it would be a feeding frenzy.
Brussard picked invisible lint off his pants leg. “I merely wished for you to understand the logic that went into the execution order. There are those who would like to see the violence in Diamond City ended. It is believed that your own goals coincide with such a project, and I am here to offer you resources to achieve that peace, in whatever fashion you deem appropriate. Those resources would include man power, magic, and finances. You would have a blank check.”
Gregg cocked his head, not allowing his surprise to show. “What’s in it for you—for these people you say you represent? What are you going to want from me?”
“Sustained peace. Nothing more.”
“Not the artifacts—presupposing I have them? No favors? No telling me how to go about conducting my business?”
“I understand the offer seems too good to be true, however I assure you, it is quite real.”
“If I refuse?”
Brussard smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why would you? Your beloved city will be the center of a Tyet war if someone does not take control now. Did I forget to mention that you would also receive the necessary funds to rebuild and repair the city? In time, you’d be able to establish elected officials who answered to you. You could protect this city and its people for the foreseeable future.”
“There must be something in it for you. Or the people you work for.”
“There is.” Brussard stood, clearly not going to explain any further. “I can give you twenty-four hours. If you aren’t willing to take the city in hand, another will be selected. I hope you will make the right choice.” A smile flickered across his lips. “It would be unfortunate if you did not.”
With that, he went to the closet at the front door and withdrew a long cashmere overcoat. He slid it on, followed by a gray fedora, leather gloves, and a scarf. He nodded to Gregg, who’d stood to watch him.
“I’ll expect your answer by”—he glanced at his watch—“this time tomorrow.”
“How do I reach you?”
Brussard put a gloved hand into a pocket and withdre
w a phone. He tossed it to Gregg. “The number’s programmed in.”
With that, he opened the front door, leaving Gregg standing alone, his mind whirling. He was off the hook for the artifacts, but a blind bargain with Brussard and whoever he worked for would be insane. At the same time, Savannah’s death would mean the chaos of succession and dozens of factions fighting to get a bite of her empire. That was on top of a city already on the verge of exploding into war. The feds would move in, and maybe the National Guard, if they weren’t already on their way. If he was going to keep a lid on things, he needed to get to work and now, but he didn’t have the resources to handle every front all at once. Not with all the bloodsuckers diving in for a piece of the action. Given time and the ability to make surgical strikes—he was more than prepared to take on all the wolves wanting a bite of the city. But this was going to be full-on war.
He eyed the phone in his hand, then thrust it into his pocket. Before he decided anything, he needed to find out what had been happening during his incarceration, and he needed to talk to Clay.
TAYLOR AND HER brothers returned after a half hour had passed. Jamie came in first, followed by Taylor and then Leo. Taylor looked spitting angry, but she crimped her mouth in a tight line and said nothing. She glanced at him with stormy eyes.
“You’re still here? Shouldn’t you be out starting a Tyet war? Maybe drown some kittens on the way?”
He bit back a caustic response. “How do I reach Clay?”
She went into the kitchen and came back with a phone, tossing it to him. “Riley’s number is programmed in.”
All three looked at him with obvious dislike.
“What did Vernon want?” Leo asked, folding his arms and propping himself against the wall.
“To tell me he’d killed Savannah. And to make a deal.”
The three siblings exchanged a smoking look. He thought they’d pepper him with questions about the nature of the offer, but they didn’t. Neither did they comment on Savannah.
He wanted to ask them questions and make some calls before heading out, but clearly he’d worn out his welcome. He doubted they’d be forthcoming. Besides, urgency gnawed at him. With Savannah gone, he had a narrow window to get a bite on her territory before other Tyet lords learned of her death and the buzzards descended.
Taylor’s next words nearly gave him whiplash, going from angry to generous. “You can clean up before you go. We’ve got some clothes and a shower.”
Leo rolled his eyes at her offer, and Jamie made an irritated sound.
“What? He sacrificed himself for Riley.”
“And you pulled his ass out of the fire tonight,” Leo said. “We’re even.”
“Sure, but first we’ll wash him and dress him before kicking him out the door. Riley would want us to.”
Jamie sighed but didn’t disagree. “I’ll get food started.”
Leo eyed Gregg balefully. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it, shaking his head before following his brother. “I need a drink.”
“Make me a double,” Taylor called and then gestured for Gregg to follow her down the hallway. She went into a small bedroom on the left. She pulled open one side of the folding closet doors to reveal shelves full of clothes. “You should find something to fit you,” she said, then brushed past him and out of the room. She opened a linen cupboard on the opposite wall. “Towels along with whatever toiletries you’re likely to need. Bathroom is next door.”
She waited for him to step aside so she could return to the kitchen. He didn’t. Her jaw tightened. She shifted her weight. It was slight, but the warning was clear. She was ready to fight. Not that he was worried. Except maybe that he might hurt her. The idea of getting a chance to put his hands on her sent an electric shock to his balls. He ignored it.
“Excuse me,” she said in a clipped voice.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s crawled up your ass and died?” he asked, unmoving.
“I got my period,” she said. “PMS is a royal bitch.”
“Bullshit.”
“Is it? Too bad for you, then. It’s all you get.”
“What can you tell me about Brussard?”
“You know all you need to. He tried to kill my sister. That should be plenty.”
The urge to grab her and shake a straight answer out of her was almost more than Gregg could contain. “God dammit, this isn’t a fucking game you’re playing. I can’t protect you and your family if you shut me out.”
Her eyes flattened. “If you’re in bed with my father, then we can’t trust you. Hell, I don’t know that we can trust you even if you’re not playing yank and tickle with him. So until I know different, you get the cone of silence. And to be very clear, we can take care of our own damned selves.”
Her entire body defied him to push her, to try to force the information out of her. God, but he wanted to. Instead, he stepped aside. “Maybe your brothers will have better sense.”
She brushed past him, smelling of the outdoors, sweat, and hint of exotic perfume. “Sure. You give them a shot. See how far that gets you.”
HE SHOWERED quickly and dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black tee shirt under a gray fleece. He pulled the sleeve down over the padlocked null bracelet. He’d have to wait until he could get to a pair of bolt cutters to get it off. Neither Jamie nor Leo seemed in charitable enough moods to take it off for him.
Dalton had returned while Gregg was showering. He sat at the far side of the wood dining table in the kitchen. They eyed each other with mutual animosity.
“When are you leaving?” Leo asked, sprawled in another chair and sipping a glass of bourbon.
Gregg grabbed a chair and twisted it around to straddle it. “Tell me about Clay’s escape from the FBI.”
Taylor started the tale, telling how they’d broken in and how Clay had an uncontrollable magic cascade after seeing his bitch of a mother, and how she’d betrayed him. Gregg’s brain exploded with hatred. He’d kill the bitch if she wasn’t already dead. He hoped to hell she was.
He shuddered at the idea of Clay going into cascade. Riley had managed to bring him out of it, which was a miracle. He squeezed his eyes shut. He’d come so close to losing his brother.
His stomach tightened. What if he’d had Riley killed when he’d planned to? When Clay had first hooked up with her. His brother would be dead. Period. No one else could have brought him out of cascade. Thank God for Riley. He said it aloud as he opened his eyes.
“You won’t find any of us arguing that point,” Jamie said.
He’d hardly spared a glance for Gregg as he cooked, but that didn’t mean Jamie hadn’t been paying close attention. Riley’s half brothers made their living as metal artists, crafting jewelry and sculptures. But they were neither soft or stupid. The two men carried themselves with the same kind of watchful readiness that their sisters did. They always expected trouble. Was that something Brussard had impressed on them? He’d seen Leo create weapons and shackles in mere seconds. Their power was impressive, but was eclipsed by their mental toughness, their cunning, and their willingness to get down and dirty.
“I’m so sorry about your mother,” Gregg said, his voice low, words inadequate for what they’d lost. Riley wasn’t the only one who’d sacrificed for Clay. He hadn’t believed that Riley could pull off a rescue. But she had, with the help of her family, who’d put their lives on the line for Clay. Gregg owed them more than he could ever begin to repay.
For a long moment, nobody spoke, then Taylor picked up the story again, telling how Riley had seen a massive trace line of dead in the hills and another line of living coming down to the compound. His mouth fell open when she described the null Riley had built to not only null out their trace as they laid it down, but much of what they’d already left behind. It wasn’t possible. But then, a lot of what she d
id was impossible, and he had a feeling that with the restrictions of living off the grid and in the shadows, she’d barely scratched the surface of her talent.
“Does the FBI or anyone else know that Clay’s alive? Or your part in things?”
“We had to abandon one of my helicopters near Marchont,” Taylor said. “So they know at least I was up there. They’ve seized our properties, so they have to have something. I’m sure it doesn’t help that we’ve all vanished. No official warrants have been issued that we know of, but then, we aren’t all that well connected.”
“I’ll see what I can find out through my sources.”
She nodded. “Good.”
“Anything else happen I should know about? While I was in Savannah’s custody?”
“Until today—the usual. Murders, thefts, Tyet skirmishes, and everybody wondering about you. I’m sure you’re going to be fighting interlopers and insurgents for a while.”
Right about then, Jamie started dishing out the meal on four plates. Good as it smelled and as hungry as he was, Gregg was sure he wasn’t getting an invitation. He stood.
“What are the chances I can get one of those automatic rifles?”
“I’ll get you one.” Taylor left.
“Expecting trouble?” Leo drawled.
“I’m always expecting trouble.”
“Traveller like you—you’re going to land in home territory. Should be safe enough.” His eyes glinted. “Or maybe you think you’ve got a rat infestation.”
Gregg gave a caustic grin. “You know how it can be when the cat’s away.”
“Sucks when a criminal can’t trust his criminal buddies. Who’d have believed it? I’m shocked. Utterly shocked, I tell you.”
Jamie chuckled at his brother, setting the plates on the table. “At least he never has to worry about who’s out to get him. Everybody is.”
Before Gregg could answer, Taylor returned. She handed him the weapon with a couple of extra clips. Her gaze hooked on the padlocked null.
Shades of Memory Page 9
