That was true.
Still . . .
"How much did this cost?"
He looked at her as if the question insulted him. "Why?"
"I don't want you spending this kind of money on me."
His eyes turned blank. "Why?"
She wanted to slap that innocent look off his face. "Why do you think?"
"Woman, I have no idea." He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her.
Anger burned deep in her belly. "You are a Complete Idiot!" she snarled, tossing the jacket in his face. "That's what the C.I. stands for, doesn't it?"
Syn caught the jacket against his chest as he gaped at her. Had she snapped a wheel?
Was she PMSing?
He followed her into the bedroom. "What's your deal?"
She stopped and turned back to face him. "I didn't sleep with you for presents. What do you think, I'm some whore you have to pay off?"
He couldn't have been more stunned had she kicked him. Where had that come from? "Oh good grief, you can't possibly think that."
"Why not? You said you don't love me. What does that leave?"
It left him feeling like a heel that he'd insulted her with a gift that had been purchased with only the best intentions. "I . . ." He bit his tongue before he blurted out that he did love her, that he'd only bought her the jacket because it pained him to see her uncomfortable. I would walk through the fires of hell to get you a pair of shoes.
But he could never tell her that.
"I don't want you to feel obligated to me, Syn. I don't want anything from you."
Tossing the jacket on the bed, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Then he moved them to cup her beautiful face. "I know that," he whispered, fighting the urge to draw her into his arms and squelch her fury with a kiss. "But we can't go out in the city tomorrow dressed like we are."
Shahara felt her heart slide to her feet. His explanation brought an even greater pain to her chest. He was just being practical. Not thoughtful.
Not even remorseful.
She rated so low on his scale that he didn't feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for sleeping with someone he didn't love.
"I bought both of us some clothes that wouldn't stand out."
"Oh," she said, feeling completely ridiculous. Face it, girl, you don't mean anything to him.
She tried to convince herself that it was for the best. Especially given what was to come. But her heart didn't listen. It still hurt and wanted more from him than he was able to give.
Syn released her. "Why don't you go and check in with your family. I'm sure they're worried sick about you."
Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she nodded and went to comply. As she moved to the link, it dawned on her that this had been the longest she'd ever gone without talking to her siblings. She and Caillan kept in almost constant contact.
It wasn't that she didn't love them or that they were further from her thoughts--it was just . . .
She liked being with Syn. She really enjoyed him. Even though their lives were in danger and they were being hunted, she adored his company. Not even his bad mood could push her away.
I am so messed up.
Syn watched her walk away, his chest tight. What he wouldn't give for the freedom to lay his heart at her feet. To stay with her for the rest of his life. But he'd abandoned such dreams years ago. They belonged to his childhood.
And what few he'd managed to keep had been slaughtered on the altar of Mara's apathy and scorn. He wouldn't make that mistake ever again.
Besides, Shahara had a family who loved her. She didn't need his tainted love. And she definitely didn't need his screwed-up life. His best friends were outlaws and assassins.
Yeah . . . just what a seax needed in her life.
Aching at the thought, he joined her in the sitting room.
"Where the hell have you been?" Caillen snarled so loud over the link that he could hear it from across the room. "I've been trying everything to get ahold of you for days. Don't you ever check your messages? We've been worried to death about you."
"As you can hear, I'm fine," she said testily.
"Are you still with that bastard?"
Syn flinched at the hatred in Caillen's voice.
"That's none of your business."
"Yeah, well, thanks to you and your hormones, Tessa's been taken."
Syn went cold.
"What?" Shahara asked, her voice cracking with obvious fear. "What are you talking about?"
"I got a call two days ago from a man named Merjack saying he has her and, if we want to see her alive again, you'd better turn your lover over to him."
She turned so pale Syn thought she might faint.
"Did you hear me?" Caillen demanded.
"I heard you."
"So who do you pick, Trisa? Tessa or a filch?"
Syn put his hand on her shoulder, offering her what comfort he could. He reached over and cut the transmission. "Call Merjack."
She looked up at him and he saw fury glaring back at him. "I'm going to kill that lying bastard." Her tone was low and deadly serious.
"I'm going to help you. But first we have to get your sister back. Make the call."
Shahara nodded even though she could barely see for the raw, unmitigated rage that made her hands shake. How could the bastard have done this? Was he out of his mind?
When I get my hands on you . . .
He would know pain as his primary mistress. But first she had to get control of herself. Passion without control was wasted. She had to funnel it to get him back within her grasp so that she could carve his skin from his body. And by his actions, she knew he was guilty of everything Syn had accused him of.
There was no longer any doubt. Any man who could take her sick and innocent sister hostage when they already had a bargain made . . .
He was going to go down. But first she had to get Tessa back.
Syn took the link from her so that he could talk to Merjack and she could listen. One glance and he could tell she was too mad to be rational right now--not that he blamed her in the least. She was actually doing a lot better than he'd expected. But they needed a negotiator who wasn't as emotionally involved.
She dialed Merjack's extension.
The pathetic worm answered on the third ring. "Well, well, the rat has finally crawled back out of his sewer."
Syn ignored his insults. "Where's Tessa Dagan?"
"She's safe . . . for now."
Like that meant anything. If Syn knew the animal he was talking to, he knew better than to put any trust in Merjack. "I want proof."
"Fine. After we finish, call Warden Traysen at the prison and he'll show her to you."
His fury blinded him as he heard Shahara's sharp intake of breath. Her face blanched.
"You effing bastard," Syn snarled. "You can't keep her there. She's innocent in all this."
What the hell was he thinking? He'd been a lot more innocent and younger when they'd thrown him in jail, and those memories were what tore through him. He knew exactly what they'd do to her if they didn't rescue her immediately.
Merjack laughed. "You forget who my son is. As the father of the president, I can do anything I want to."
And you can die pretty, too, you bastard.
Syn gripped the link, wishing it was Merjack's fat hairy neck he was squeezing.
"You know what I want, rat. Give me the chip, without making a copy, and she's free."
"I don't have it."
"Well, then, I know a few guards and inmates who've been eyeing our new guest . . ."
Syn narrowed his eyes. "If they touch her, I'll rip out your throat."
"The chip, rat, or I'll toss her in with the rape felons. You have thirty hours." Merjack cut the transmission.
He looked at Shahara. Raw panic burned in her golden eyes, and it made him that more determined to kill Merjack. "I won't let them hurt her."
"What if we don't find it?" she asked, her voice cracking.
> "We will."
"Oh God, Syn, I'm so afraid."
He drew her into his arms and held her tightly. "It'll be all right. I promise." But he didn't really believe those words any more than she did. He'd given up any hope that karma or justice was fair when his sister had killed herself. Life was nothing but pain, and no matter how much you fought or ran, it always threw you to the ground and beat you to a pulp.
Today would be no different.
Pulling away from her, he reached for the link and called the prison. The warden showed him Tessa in one of the better cells. Though she sat crying on her cot, she didn't look any the worse for her incarceration. They'd left her fully clothed, and a tray of fresh food and drink was set on the table by her cot.
He could sense Shahara's need to speak with her, but he knew they'd never allow it.
"As you can see," Traysen said, "we've taken good care of her. I have a doctor looking in on her and she's been kept isolated from the others. It's the best I can do for now."
Shahara nodded. "Thank you, Warden. But know that if anything happens to her at all, if she even gets a hangnail, I'll be coming for you and I won't stop. Ever."
A chill went down Syn's spine as he saw the ruthless woman who'd broken into his apartment and shot him. After all they'd been through, he'd forgotten this side of her.
The side of her that made grown men piss their pants at the mere mention of her name.
And he saw that fear in Traysen's eyes. The man was staring into the beautiful face of death and in spite of its delicate features, it lacked all mercy. That was a hell unimaginable and he never wanted to be on the receiving end of her hatred and determination. No wonder Caillen wouldn't mess with her.
She cut the transmission. "We need to prepare."
With a subtle nod, he pulled his laptop from the bag and set to work on finding information about the man who'd been assigned to the office where he'd dumped the chip.
Shahara paced the floor while Syn worked, wishing she could do something more productive. A subtle tapping sounded at the window. At first she ignored it.
"Could you let Vik in?"
She popped herself on the forehead. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." She went over and opened the window.
Vik came inside, cursing them both. "Do you know how painful the cold is on my circuitry?"
"Sorry."
"Yeah, I bet you are."
Syn looked up with a heavy sigh. "Quit bitching and get over here, Vik. I need you to boost my signal. I'm having trouble getting into a couple of servers."
"Yes, oh, great snotty bastard." Vik flew to his side, then extended a limb to plug into the computer. "Nice to know--"
"One more word, Vik, and I'm reprogramming you to remove your voice."
He pressed his metallic lips together and shut up immediately.
Shahara would have been amused had their situation not been so dire. "There's nothing I can do to help, is there?"
"Don't distract me."
And yet she knew she couldn't stay here without bothering him. She wanted to know what he was doing. What he was learning. Tessa will die if you slow him down . . .
She picked up the link. "I'm going to leave you alone. Call me when you have something."
He nodded.
Grabbing the new jacket, she left him and Vik and went walkabout so that she could at least try and clear her head. But it was impossible. All she could see was Tessa's face when she'd been a kid, depending on Shahara. Back when she'd been training as a seax, Tessa had learned to cook and would always greet her at the door with some kind of treat.
"One day I want to be just like you."
Only she'd wanted better than that for her sister.
Her heart heavy, she paused in the lobby to stare up at the beautiful dress in the boutique. How she wished she could afford things like that for her and her sisters.
I can't even keep them safe.
Tears of frustration gathered in her eyes as she left the hotel with no destination in mind. It wasn't until she reached a temple at the end of the second block that she stopped again.
Never one for religion, she approached the door slowly. It was Syn's denomination. She still found his religiousness mystifying. How could he have faith after all he'd been through?
But then, maybe that was the beauty of it. There was no faith greater than that that had been tested and survived.
Wanting to find her own peace, she went inside. A young priestess around the age of twenty, and wearing the same robe as Mother Anne, stood in a nearby corner, restocking the supply of tapers. "Good evening, child," she said with a tender smile.
"Good evening, Mother."
"It's a terribly cold night for you to be out. What trouble brings you to our door?"
"I . . . I've come to pray."
The priestess smiled and handed her a candle. "Then I won't disturb you. May you find peace tonight, child, and may the gods keep you and those you love safe."
She didn't know why, but those kind words brought tears to her eyes. "Thank you, Mother."
The priestess inclined her head respectfully to her, then returned to work.
Shahara took the taper and went to light it. As quietly as she could, she entered the nave and found a quiet spot to kneel on the floor. She glanced around at the statues of the gods and wondered if they really existed. Did they see her or even care what was happening to her?
Neither of her parents had been religious, and she'd never had time for it in her life. But tonight . . .
Tonight she didn't want to feel alone in the universe. She wanted to believe that there was a higher power that had brought her to this pass. That something had a plan, because she certainly didn't.
Don't die, Tess . . .
Tears fell down her cheeks as she faced reality. What was she going to do? To save Tess would mean Syn's life. Merjack wouldn't stop until Syn was dead.
What have I done?
She'd made a pact with the devil for one man's life. And not just any man.
The only man she'd ever loved.
I can't do this. I can't hand him over to die.
But what choice did she have? And as those thoughts chased each other around in her head, she heard one deep, intrinsic male voice above them all.
Trust me.
Syn growled in frustration as he kept searching fruitlessly for information about Merrin Lyche. How could there be nothing on the man?
It was like chasing a ghost.
C'mon, don't do this to me. Most of all, he didn't want it done to Shahara.
Disgusted, he pulled a tiny ring out of his pocket and studied it.
A wedding ring . . .
It'd been a stupid impulse to buy the ring. He'd known it the moment he did it. But as he was buying Shahara her jacket, he'd looked down in the jewelry case and seen its golden diamond stones twinkling. Their fire flashed with the same intensity as her eyes, and he couldn't resist it anymore than he could resist her.
What a tangled, complicated mess they were in.
Of course, he should be used to that by now. Life was a treacherous beast, and every time he thought he had it tamed, it always turned around and bit him on the ass. But he refused to let it humble Shahara. She deserved better than that.
It's hopeless. There's nothing here on the man.
No, he wouldn't give up. He couldn't. Setting the ring aside, he kept looking.
"Hey, boss?"
"Not now, Vik."
Vik extended one arm and shoved him back in his chair. "Dude, listen to the metallic life form."
Just as Syn was about to tear his head off, Vik entered a code and unlocked Lyche's files.
But it was the top file that made every hope he had crumble straight to the ground as he realized one truth.
None of them were going to survive.
CHAPTER 18
Shahara paused as she entered the hotel room and found Syn looking ill. It was obvious he'd received bad news.
Again.
There was also an open half-empty bottle of hard Tondarion Fire next to him--an alcohol so potent, it was banned on most planets. That definitely wasn't a good sign.
"What happened?"
He took a swig of the alcohol straight out of the bottle--impressive and scary. "Lyche is dead."
The news slammed straight into her gut as she neared him. Surely she'd misheard him. "What?"
His eyes mirrored the disgust on his face. "Fate is indeed one serious bitch . . . He died ten years ago, probably from a disease caused by Merjack's gas."
"So what are you saying?"
"Basically, we're screwed." He raked his hand through his hair. "I just unlocked his medical files--"
Vik cleared his throat.
"Vik unlocked his files and I found the death certificate."
So glad I was right . . . Weary and upset, she went to stand by his side so that she could see the report herself.
Sure enough, the man was dead. Not that she doubted Syn, but she was hoping he'd had a concussion that left him unable to read or something.
This can't be happening . . . They needed to find that chip.
"So where does this leave us?"
"I'm working on it. His wife is still alive. I'm doing a search for her contact information. Maybe . . . maybe she still has the statue."
"Statue? Why are you looking for a statue?"
"That's what I put the chip in."
Shahara frowned. "A statue?" she repeated. "How big was this thing?"
He held his hands up to show her about three feet.
"And you chose that again . . . why?"
"It was there and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, it did work. No one seems to have found it in all these years."
Holding her hands up, she didn't say anything else as he reached for the link to call Lyche's widow.
He checked his chronometer. "It should be middle afternoon where she is. Keep your hopes up."
They were about the only thing she had up at the moment. C'mon. Answer the call . . . She waited, her heart pounding erratically until an old woman answered his call.
"Fria Lyche?"
"Yes, yes, this is she. Can I help you?"
"I hope so, ma'am. You don't know me, but I'm looking for a piece of statuary your late husband owned."
"Merrin had several pieces," she said, her voice gentle and kind. "He loved to collect all different types."
"Yes, ma'am. The one I'm interested in looked like an ancient Derridian goddess. Pikra, I think it was."
"Oh yes, the garishly green one with the snake skin and ruby hair. No matter how hard I try, I can't purge that nasty thing out of my mind."