Swift (Kindred Book 4)

by Scarlett Finn

  While formulating a plan for how to extract the information she needed without giving too much away, Kadie almost didn’t see who was approaching with a second security guard. When Sikorski moved his attention from her to them, she was horrified to see the youngster next to the goon.

  “Who is this?” Sikorski asked, impatient about the interruption.

  “He says he’s with the girl, that he looks out for her.”

  Kadie had told Howie to go home. Coming to her rescue was probably his idea of heroism, but she didn’t need to be saved and now she had someone to worry about other than herself. Howie was awkward, not at all social, and his charisma ranked alongside that of an amoeba. Kadie found his gawkiness endearing and he was so eager to please her that she made concessions for him too often. Her kindness was coming back to bite them both.

  Sikorski looked at her and then at Howie before he gestured for Howie to sit down. Howie did as Sikorski requested and she scrunched her nose. This wasn’t going to finish as clean as she wanted it to. Howie wasn’t a bodyguard, he didn’t have bulk. Sikorski would view him as suspicious, either he was a kid in love with a woman out of his league, or a boy with an agenda who wanted an in.

  Whatever Sikorski thought, Kadie sighed. She couldn’t leave this table, or Sikorski, until she could take Howie with her. Given his lack of perception, she would struggle to hint at him to take a course of action. Complications. Tuck hated them and now she understood why.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Howie had made the mistake of telling Sikorski about his talent. He might not be in the big-boy leagues, but Sikorski seemed intrigued by the idea of a computer whizz at his table. They talked so much that she was largely ignored. Sikorski didn’t drink much because he was too engrossed in the conversation with Howie, and she had no opportunity to flirt information out of the Russian.

  Toward the end of the night, Sikorski got up and declared that they were going back to his mansion. Kadie had no choice but to accept because Howie was already being escorted out.

  “I thought this was what you wanted, to be here,” Howie said, coming over to sit beside her.

  They’d been left in this large room with a bunch of other people who were all chatting and admiring the décor in this space designed for entertaining. Couches were scattered around with tables full of drinks everywhere. For an impromptu gathering, it was remarkably well organized. An open fire on the far away wall blazed up an immense chimney breast that was decorated with tiny glass tiles.

  The room was gorgeous and the atmosphere was warm, but already she wanted to leave. “You can’t tell him who you are or who I am. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a dumb ho attracted to power.”

  Something about the offended confusion he exuded made her want to shake him and hug him all at once. He had no idea what he’d just walked into. The people around them gave them cover to talk without being listened to and she needed to seize this chance while she had it.

  “Tell him we met in a bar somewhere, that we were friends, that you liked me,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it onto her knee. “If you tell him the truth, or ask about Tuck… just trust me, Howie, please.”

  Sikorski came in and began to greet everyone. Because every other soul in the room got up to gravitate toward the leader, she took Howie’s hand to force them to do the same. Walking into Sikorski’s private home was not part of the plan. During the ride over, she’d noted how secluded the building was and the grounds were vast enough that sneaking out would be tough, especially with the number of guards she’d seen.

  As long as Howie was here, she was here, and maybe he was right. If he was inside, he could find a way to hack Sikorski’s system and collate what Sikorski knew about Tuck, in the same way Howie had done for her with Tuck’s machine when they ended up with the Sikorski information.

  “We have to stick together,” she said, pulling him close. “Whatever happens, Howie, we can’t be separated because if we are, we’re never getting out of here again.”

  FIVE

  One month later.

  Present day.

  It was dark, and dirty, and loud. Just like every other time he’d pushed through the scarred wooden door, the smell that assaulted him was of alcohol, urine with a hint of blood, and a dollop of body odor. Hell’s Waiting Room, even the devil himself couldn’t come up with better. The scum of the world, the has-beens, and the never-weres mingled in the sound of heavy rock, punctuated with the clatter of pool balls ricocheting, and every curse word known to man.

  The game never changed, the music stayed the same, the faces hid different souls, but they all meant the same thing. If you were here, you didn’t belong anywhere. Whether this had been your haunt for a week, or a decade, you still didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere.

  Anything went in a place like this, rules didn’t exist, the patched up furniture and gouged floor testified to that. The sound of flesh on flesh was as likely to be carnal as it was to be angry. Never a night went by that there wasn’t a brawl of some sorts. The sound of a woman’s feigned pants, accompanied by the groans of a john from the corner with the busted light-bulb, told him that tonight was business as usual. Not that Tuck had come to expect anything less.

  When Tuck slapped a hand on the bar, the long-haired, leather-clad barman, who was chewing on a toothpick, glanced up. “You seen my friend?” Tuck asked.

  The barman, who he knew as Linc, spat out the cocktail stick, without thought for where it would land, and reached beneath the bar for a stained glass. “Not tonight, man,” Linc said. “But it’s early.”

  “You expect him?” Tuck asked, watching Linc pour out a stingy measure of sour mash.

  “In this place,” Linc said, shoving the glass over the bar.

  “Has a habit of confounding expectations,” Tuck said, propping himself on a stool and casting an eye around the establishment, using the reflection in the broken bar mirror behind Linc.

  “You never told me what you wanted with him,” Linc said, fishing another stick from his pocket.

  Tuck wasn’t going to answer that question, just as he hadn’t answered it the other three times Linc had asked. “What’s going on there?” he asked, sipping the liquor and nodding toward the reflection of a huddled group in a faraway corner.

  Linc glanced over his shoulder at the reflection then looked past Tuck to the actual group. “Fresh meat,” he answered. “A stray, don’t think she knew what she was walking into.”

  Tuck had distracted Linc long enough. Another patron stumbled to the bar looking for service. Linc plucked the stick from his mouth and wandered toward the customer, calm as you like, despite the newcomer’s obvious impatience.

  Women weren’t common in here and those who did show up knew what to expect. Most of them came looking for trouble or payment. This was a place where men could lose big. Drugs were sold like candy and everyone had a price.

  Linc’s description of her as a stray meant she was unlikely to be a working girl, but if the crowd of men around were anything to go by she was holding her own, at least so far. There was zero chance that those men would let the woman walk away without giving up what they wanted from her—virtue included.

  For now, they were entertained, but eventually they would get bored of her and take what they wanted. In another life, he might be concerned by that, he might have even tried to help her out, but his days of playing martyr were long gone.

  Twisting the base of his glass back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, he looked down into the molten liquid displaced by the rhythmic motion. He couldn’t rescue a woman he didn’t know from a fate she might end up enjoying.

  Funny thing about the women that came in here looking for trouble, they didn’t have to look hard and more often than not it changed their lives, one way or another. This place was far enough away from anywhere decent that Tuck didn’t have to worry about the woman being an innocent. If she had been underage, Linc would have thrown her out to save her
from the clutches of the evil they all knew loomed here.

  Linc was almost as broad as he was tall. This place was his and he knew exactly what went on here. That didn’t mean he saw any of it, especially if someone came looking to ask questions. Tuck had been frequenting this place and had learned that as tough as Linc looked, he still had some morals, though he’d probably lost count of how many times they’d been compromised. Linc didn’t care about much, but what he did care about he was vehement about, and no one wanted an enemy like Linc.

  Still, this wasn’t a place that had local law enforcement on speed-dial. In fact, Linc paid a lookout who loitered in the parking area, looking out for any trouble-vanquishing force. Being part of the Kindred meant there were circumstances in which he could’ve been accused of playing vigilante, exactly the kind of guy they didn’t want around here. But this mission was too important not to take the risk of being discovered by these crooks.

  He’d been reminded of what it felt like to have nothing to lose and it freed him up to take all kinds of risks without blinking for thought. Being an island might make him untouchable, but it did funny things to his conscience. He’d lived like this before, his life had been nothing but this until…

  Glancing up from his drink, he found his own reflection, and tried to imagine her smile, or what it had been like to smile at her. With nothing to lose, there was nothing to smile about, so his facial muscles had forgotten how. The scowl served him well, it told people to back-off, to mind their own business, and to leave him alone. He was alone and now he always would be.

  Pity stung his throat, so to disguise it, he flung the measure of liquor back in one gulp, then slammed the glass onto the bar. He’d had it. He allowed himself to think of her once a day, no more than that, otherwise she’d consume him. Not that he was under the illusion he’d ever left her command. His fingers twitched and he balled them into fists against his palms. He’d thought of her smile, he couldn’t think about her body, about her skin under his touch, how she’d writhed and responded to him, how her eyes closed and her lips parted when he laid her in their cool sheets—no, once a day, now he had to stop.

  Lifting the glass to give it a shake, he indicated he needed a refill. Linc came over and filled it from the label-less bottle he was holding. Tuck threw back the measure and gestured for a third.

  “Got a problem?” Linc asked, pouring out the measure.

  Tuck usually nursed his drink because he liked to be in full control. But he always tipped big so that Linc wouldn’t fling him out when he needed to be here. This was the waiting part of the game. That was fine, he would wait. The Kindred’s bidding was his sole purpose now.

  Where this part had always frustrated him in the past, he’d known it was because he wanted to get back to his girl and waiting to pounce delayed that. Now, this part nearly killed him because he wasn’t going anywhere, and certainly not anywhere near her. Even in his internal monologue he wouldn’t acknowledge her name. If he said it, or thought it, he would have to acknowledge it was real, that he’d left her.

  Shaking his head, he took a sip, and dropped back into the stool he hadn’t realized he’d left. Normally, she was never far from his thoughts, but tonight was a plague. The last couple of days had been harder than usual, though he had no idea why. Maybe because it was only days from being nine full months since he’d seen her. Was she still living in the same place? Had she moved on? Who took her to bed now?

  The sound of splintering glass assaulted his ears, no one else flinched, which was evidence of the regularity of such a noise and how feeble this one had been. Linc tossed a ragged towel at him, and Tuck realized the shattered glass was in his hand, he’d crushed it in his fist. He was bleeding, not badly, but he hadn’t noticed the strength of his grip, not while the thought of another enjoying her body played in his mind.

  Linc swiped the broken glass from the bar, and Tuck pulled a piece from his skin dropping it in the trash can Linc held up. Tuck wiped the blood from his palm, and pushed the towel against the wound to stem the bleeding.

  Tonight wasn’t his night, and no amount of hanging around was going to be fruitful, he could tell. Apart from the gnawing in his gut, he’d heard rumors of a deal going down, but they hadn’t confirmed the location or exact meet time. This was a shot in the dark. He and the other Kindred members were all in separate locations trying to find their mark. If he went back to their base, he could find out if the others had had any luck.

  A chill crossed his shoulders, and he sat up, examining the mirror again trying to see who had entered, but no one had, the door was closed. What had he missed? What was he missing? That awareness, the biting knowledge somewhere at the edge of his superior brain told him to look, told him something more was here than he was seeing.

  But the place looked the same. The faces were familiar, the decor hadn’t changed. It was subtle, something subtle…

  A flash of memory took him back to her twenty-fourth birthday party, that first night he’d clapped eyes on her. His heart had stopped dead in his chest. She hadn’t said a word, she didn’t have to, and for some reason, neither did he.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he had to physically make himself erase the sound of her laugh, and the image of how her smile lit up the room. Her laughter bewitched him, reached into the depths of his being to parts of him he hadn’t known existed, and in one instant he’d been hooked. Like a junkie in need of a fix, his hands were shaking now, and the crush of cramp conquered his gut. Willing himself not to double over, he shoved the drink and the towel away, while his stool fell to the floor behind him.

  Fumbling for his wallet when Linc came back to him, Tuck managed to sink a couple of twenties onto the bar. Linc didn’t hesitate to take the cash, but a curious concern swept his expression. “You don’t look so good,” Linc said.

  Tuck shoved the wallet into his back pocket. “I’m good.”

  “If you’re gonna have a heart attack, can you wait ‘til you’re off my property?”

  Although he knew Linc was joking—maybe—Tuck could barely nod in acknowledgement, because again the cackling assault filled his ears. He shook his head, as though trying to free his ears of water, but it wouldn’t shift. He’d been told this would happen, by doctors who had poked, prodded, and probed his mind since before he could walk.

  Madness. Madness was inevitable they’d said. He’d taken it with a pinch of salt at the time, knowing that madness would be hopeless, heavenly oblivion. For as long as he could remember, he hadn’t wanted the gift of logical, intelligent thought, then she’d made it ok. Suddenly, there had been something to stay sane for.

  Except he hadn’t expected this. If madness meant the torturous reminder of his solitude, he didn’t want it. He couldn’t think of her every minute of every day. When he did let his mind fixate on her, he became homicidal… or suicidal. Never in his life had he been afraid of anything, not until he had her to lose.

  Now, he didn’t have her to lose, but the only torture he wouldn’t be able to withstand would be reliving every second of every day they spent together. He’d never again see her smile, hear her laugh, touch her… why couldn’t he get her out of his head tonight? Why couldn’t he finish this job? He’d finish it, then surrender to the glory of madness if he had to. But he couldn’t let his kin down now. He hadn’t expected the descent into insanity to be so sudden, so complete, this was like someone flicking a switch.

  “I think he’s actually gone and done it,” Linc mumbled.

  Tuck saw that the bartender was no longer looking at him, he was looking past him again to the group that had been huddled in the corner. With a shout, and a hurrah, Tuck narrowed his eyes at the celebration, what were they all so happy about?

  “Think I’ll be closing up early,” Linc said. “Get yourself out of here before I have to throw this mob out.”

  Linc didn’t mind the drugs or the gambling. He didn’t even mind women trading under his rafters. Illegal or not, if it was consensual by all par
ties, Linc didn’t care. The only thing that Tuck had heard from whispers of tale-telling that Linc wouldn’t tolerate was rape of any flavor.

  Knowing Linc could handle himself, Tuck bent and picked up his stool to right it again with intentions of taking the bartender’s advice. In his periphery, he noticed the group separate. A few members disbanded, and Tuck stood up to see three guys who all looked rather pleased with themselves. The center member had his arm around a woman’s waist. After hooking her dead arm around his neck, the lowlife held on to her hand, keeping her body on his.

  Her head lolled forward, she didn’t have all her faculties. The men laughed as they stumbled forward with the obviously unconscious woman. But, that wasn’t what made him pause. As horrific as the scene was, and knowing what that laughter meant to the miscreants, any reasonable human being would be disgusted.

  But, no, that wasn’t what made him sick and furious. Drunk, drugged, violated, tormented… no woman deserved those things, but complacency taught him a lesson in that second. Those who suffered, that were victimized and brutalized, those people mattered to someone. They were someone’s daughter, sister… cousin, friend, lover. The victims weren’t faceless, someone loved them. The mental slap, the ice-water of reality made him recoil. The lesson couldn’t have been taught in a harsher way, because this one, this unconscious victim only minutes away from being violated, this was the one he loved.

  “Put her down,” Tuck said. He’d crossed the room to get between the door and the lowlifes who appeared just as shocked by his interference as the rest of the bar patrons did. Tuck didn’t have time to be stunned, his wits had seen him through with narrower odds. Except that wasn’t on top of three shots, which was certainly enough to warm his blood.

  “Hey, it’s Mr. Moody,” the guy closest to him said.

  The second was still holding her, and the third backed off. While it appeared that the third might be having second thoughts, Tuck wasn’t going to take it for granted. He’d be ready to take three of them if he had to. He doubted anyone else around cared enough to get involved on either side of this fight. All the same, he kept his eye on the bar mirror in case anyone chose to come at him from behind. If he’d been alone, he wouldn’t have cared about being cold-cocked, because there would be nothing to lose. Except right now he had something to lose, someone to lose, and she was relying on him.