Two
Ian
“Have I told you you’re an idiot?” Aaron asked, staring through the windshield at the tall iron gate and the even taller house behind it. If such a monstrosity could even be called a house. It was more like a modern fortress.
“About twenty times since my plane landed.” I flipped down the driver’s-side sunshade and checked my tie in the mirror.
“Has it sunk in yet?”
I glanced at him in the thick shadows of the car’s interior, lit only by the green numbers scrolling across the radio’s display in the dashboard. “Your puny verbal barbs are no match for my thick skull.”
“You do have a freakishly thick skull,” Aaron said, flipping through the stations on my rental car’s radio. “But that won’t stop a bullet. They may look civilized in tuxedos and sequins, but they’re really monsters in men’s clothing, every single one of them. They’re going to eat you alive in there, Ian.”
“Then may they choke on my corpse.”
Aaron punched the button to turn off the radio, uncharacteristically serious in concession to the job at hand. “Eight years since you left, and nothing’s changed. You’re still ready to charge in half-cocked and make the world bend to your will, consequences be damned.”
“That’s not true.” The kid I’d been back then was idealistic but soft. Smart but naive. That kid had been burned by the real world—roasted alive—and I’d risen from his ashes, ready to breathe fire of my own. “Now I’m fully cocked, and well aware of the consequences. As are you.”
He nodded at the somber reminder. “You sure you don’t want me to go in with you? I could grab a monkey suit and be back in a second.” Aaron was a Traveler, which meant he could step into the shadow of a tree outside my car and into his own bedroom in the space of a single breath, and be back just as fast. “You’re gonna need someone you trust at your back.”
Unfortunately for Aaron—or fortunately, depending on your perspective—traveling was one of the most common Skills in the world. Aaron’s range was a little above average, but his accuracy was questionable at best, and unless his motivation was personal, no one would ever call him punctual. Which meant he had no value whatsoever to the Skilled syndicates.
That fact had kept him safe from their interest for years. So safe, in fact, I’d often wondered if he was faking his own incompetence for that very reason. He wouldn’t be the first to try it. Hell, I’d tried it. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t use his help.
“Thanks, but no. If you show your face in Tower’s house, within an hour they’ll know you’re an Independent.”
They’d also know that Aaron was as good with a computer as he was bad with women, that he was late on the rent and quick with a punch line, and that he was addicted to those little melt-away mints people serve at weddings. His life was an open book, available to anyone who cared to read it. As were most people’s lives. Which was why I was the only one who could do this job.
Because I had no life. No past. Officially, I didn’t even exist, and if they ever figured that out, being seen with me could get Aaron killed.
“I need you to stay off their radar so you can be my emergency bailout, if this ends badly.”
“Fair enough.” Aaron sounded half relieved, half disappointed. He wanted to play badass assassin, but he didn’t really want the risk that came with it. “Give me a call if you need a quick escape.”
“I will,” I said, as he pushed open the passenger-side door. But we both knew I wouldn’t. There was nothing he could do to help me, if I couldn’t get out of Tower’s house on my own. The infrared lighting grid guaranteed that trespassers couldn’t gain entrance through the shadows. His heavily guarded exits made sure no one got in the traditional way, either. Once inside, I would be on my own.
“If you survive this kamikaze mission, we should get dinner. And beer.”
“Absolutely.” But that was another lie. I had every intention of surviving, but wouldn’t get the chance to hang out afterward, and I’d probably never be able to come back into the country at all, much less this particular city. If I accomplished what I’d set out to do, the price on my head would be high enough that preachers and Boy Scouts would fight one another for the chance to profit from my death.
“Good luck, man.” Aaron stuck his hand out and I shook it, then he stepped out of my rental car and closed the door. I watched as he walked into the patch of woods at the side of the road. One step. Two. Three. Then he was gone, not just hidden by the shadows, but transported by them. Through them.
I took a deep breath and checked my tie in the mirror again—I hadn’t worn a tux in years, and my distaste for formal wear had not faded. Then I shifted the car into Drive and pulled onto the street at the end of a procession of cars all headed the same place I was.
The queue of vehicles moved quickly, greased by proper planning and a well-trained workforce. When I rolled to a stop in front of the house, feet from the curved, formal steps, a man was waiting to take my keys while another spoke into his handheld radio, his steady but unobtrusive gaze taking in every detail of my clothes and bearing. They knew my face.
Before I’d even rounded the front of the car, a brunette in a long, formfitting peach-colored dress came down the steps toward me. She smiled like a pageant contestant and moved like a waitress, quick and eager to please.
“Mr. Holt.” She threaded her arm through mine and guided me smoothly up the steps, without ever faltering in either smile or stride. “We would have sent a car for you,” she said, leading me through a door held open by a man in service dress. She was smooth, and polished, and poised—an experienced people handler and a beautiful woman.
But she was not what I’d requested.
“Unnecessary. I wanted to see the city a bit on my own.” I stopped in the foyer, and she had no choice but to stop with me, because I still held her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Nina. Mr. Tower’s personal assistant.”
“And you’re my escort for the evening?”
Her smile faltered a bit over my implication, and the dissatisfaction echoing intentionally within the question. But then she rallied from the insult and her smile beamed brighter than ever, if a little brittle now. “No, I’m afraid Mr. Tower has chosen someone else to keep you company during your stay. I’m just here to make the introductions this evening.”
Nina led me through the wide foyer, generically ostentatious with its soaring ceiling and gold-veined marble tile. Even in his absence, Jake Tower exhibited his own affluence and power like a peacock displaying plumage. Wealth was evident in the expensive furnishings and decor, while his power was even more obvious in the stream of well-dressed guests, several of whom I recognized from political pieces on the nightly news.
At the base of each curved staircase, dressed in black and carrying handheld radios, stood a member of Tower’s security team, monitoring the party in general and me in particular. I was unbound—I’d taken no oath of loyalty or service to Jake Tower—thus untrusted. They would watch me, prepared to intercept or incapacitate, until the day I bore Tower’s chain link on my arm, marking me as his to command.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
Once those milling in the entry had their chance to see me, Nina guided me into the main event. Into the snake pit, where every hiss would feel like praise and every bite like a deep, hot kiss. The venom would flow like honey, too thick to swallow, but too sweet to entirely resist.
I knew how extravagant and generous the syndicates could seem when they wanted something. I also knew it was all a lie. The party was an illusion, from every plunging neckline to each glass of chilled champagne. It was a show. A seduction. I was being courted by the Tower syndicate because I had something they wanted. And I would play along because they had something I wanted.
Heads turned to look when we entered the party. Hands shook mine and voices called out greetings, but the faces all blurred together. The names were a jumble of syllables I didn’t bother to untangle. These weren’t the important names. Not the important faces. Remembering would be a waste of effort.
So I smiled and nodded in the right places, agreeing when it was convenient, changing the subject when it wasn’t. I sipped from the glass placed in my hand and ate the hors d’oeuvres Nina insisted I try. But I tasted nothing and hardly heard the words that came out of my own mouth. I was too busy scanning the crowd for the faces I’d studied. The names I’d memorized. The important ones, not necessarily in power circles, but vital to my purpose.
And finally, nearly half an hour after I arrived, a soft buzz spread through the crowd and I looked up to find Jake Tower coming down the main staircase with his wife on his arm and two black-clothed bodyguards at his back. The host had arrived, late enough to demonstrate that he lived life on his own schedule, but not so tardy as to be truly rude to his guests.
“Let me introduce you to Mr. Tower,” Nina said, taking my arm again. She led me through the crowd toward the stairs as Tower and his small entourage descended into our midst.
At the base of the stairs, a glass of champagne was pressed into Tower’s hand, but he handed it to his wife before accepting another for himself. A heartbeat later, his gaze landed on Nina, then slid to me, and I swallowed a lump of eager rage before it could shine through my eyes and give me away. Tower wasn’t my target, but that didn’t mean I’d cry at his funeral. When the time came, I’d be raising my glass to whoever finally put the vicious, arrogant bastard in the ground, as would everyone else he’d ever tried to put his mark on.
“Mr. Holt, may I introduce Jake Tower and his lovely wife, Lynne. Mr. Tower, this is Ian Holt, your guest of honor.”
Tower offered me his empty right hand and I shook it, making eye contact for the first time. Trying not to show that I knew more than I should.
I shouldn’t know that Tower’s first name was actually Jacob and one of his middle names was David. His wife was really Gwendolyn, and before she married, she’d been a Pierce, a great beauty by all accounts, but not burdened with enough brains or initiative to ever get in her husband’s way.
“Mr. Holt, so glad you could join us. I hope you’re enjoying yourself so far?” Tower’s brows rose, and I nodded in reply.
“Of course. You have a lovely home, and an even lovelier wife.” I took Lynne Tower’s hand briefly, and she smiled, then silently sipped from her glass.
Over their shoulders, the bodyguards watched me, and their surnames filtered through my memory, triggered by faces matching the photographs and notes Aaron had fed me for days. The taller, darker man was Clifton, and the shorter, paler, broader one was Garrett. Their Skills, like their first names, were unknown, but based on their size alone, either could break a man in half.
The group around me shifted to accept a new couple into our power circle, and I realized with one glance at the newcomers that they weren’t a couple at all.
“Mr. Holt, this is my brother, Jonah, and our sister, Julia.”
“My pleasure,” I said, shaking their hands in turn, and Julia’s left eyebrow quirked over one deep brown eye, like something in my reply amused her.
Jonah only scowled. He was dressed like one of the guests, but even if I hadn’t known from my research, I would have known from his bearing alone that Jonah would have been more comfortable wearing all black like the rest of Tower’s muscle. He didn’t like dressing up, and he didn’t like playing nice. And he didn’t like me—that much was obvious in his first glance my way.
Almost as obvious was the fact that his dislike of me would be very much mutual.
“Mr. Holt, if I may say so, that was quite an impressive show you put on at the arena a couple of months ago.” Julia—Lia—raised her glass just a little, offering her own personal toast to my Skill.
“Oh, thank you, but it wasn’t intended as a show at all.” Lie. “I was just trying to help out where I could.” That part was true, but intentionally misleading. I was trying to help myself into Tower’s power circle.
“Still, you made quite an impression,” Tower insisted. “Lynne and I were impressed, anyway.”
“Unfortunately you weren’t the only ones. The news clip got quite a bit of airtime, and it’s been viewed on the internet ad nauseam. If I’d known there were cameras aimed at me, I might have done things a little differently.”
Another lie, and a big one that time. I knew there were cameras. The arena was chosen for that very reason. For my Skilled coming-out party. For the exposure that would bring me to Jake Tower’s notice, during his favorite sport.
“And you’re uncomfortable in the spotlight?” Julia asked.
“Or maybe scared of it?” Jonah added. “Darkness is more your thing, right?”
“I’m most comfortable in the absence of both light and attention, but scared of neither.” I faked a nervous laugh. “However, I will admit to being unnerved a bit at first by interest from organizations like this one.”
“You’ve had offers from other syndicates?” Tower’s frown was small, but telling.
“Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open for now. Though no one else has gone to quite this much trouble to impress me before.” I gestured one-armed at the entire party.
“Obviously we don’t stand around drinking and talking every day, but I thought a party would be the best way to introduce you to the syndicate as a whole.”
“And what an introduction it is,” I said, as one waiter took my empty glass while another replaced it.
“This is only the beginning.” Julia smiled, dark straight hair framing a pretty face I couldn’t quite read. “By the end of the week, you’ll understand that no one else can offer you the benefits, security and career advancement potential that the Tower syndicate can.”
“And here is the woman for the job.” Tower smiled coolly at someone over my shoulder and I turned as he waved two more women into our widening circle. The first was a small, delicate-looking woman in light blue, her platinum curls tumbling over pale, bare shoulders. She was smaller and fairer than my personal tastes ran, but I’d requested an escort of her exact description, and when her brown-eyed gaze met mine, some small bit of tension inside me eased.
“Mr. Holt, this is Kenley Daniels.”
I took her hand to shake it and couldn’t help smiling in relief. There she was, my target, hand delivered to me by one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the country, though he had no idea that he’d played the very card I wanted most. All I needed now was to get her away from Tower and his security team, and…
“And this,” he continued, before my hand had more than grazed Kenley’s, “is her sister, Korinne. Kori will be keeping you company this week.”
I blinked, confused, and glanced from Kenley Daniels to her sister, whose coloring matched Kenley’s exactly—same platinum hair, pale skin, and deep brown eyes. Korinne was only an inch or so taller. She was a virtual match to the description I’d given Tower when he asked what I’d desire most in a liaison—the description of her sister.
“A pleasure,” I said on autopilot, as I released Kenley’s hand in favor of Kori’s, still reeling from the bait-and-switch. Only it couldn’t be a bait-and-switch, because Tower didn’t know I’d had anyone specific in mind as my liaison.
And I hadn’t known his mistake was possible, because Kori Daniels wasn’t possible. She was dead. Every single one of Aaron’s sources had said the same thing. She’d been a fixture at Tower’s side for years—a strategically visible threat—then she’d disappeared several weeks ago. Gone, with no trace and no explanation.
In the syndicate, that can only mean one thing.
Yet there she stood, clearly alive and breathing, and waiting for me to shake the hand she held out. So I did.
She let go of my hand almost the instant we touched.
“Kori will be your tour guide,” Tower continued. “She will also be your assistant, your chauffeur and your personal security while you are here. Anything you want, Kori will provide.”
But Kori looked like she’d rather perform CPR on a leper than ever touch me again, even if only to hand me a cup of coffee.
My thoughts raced while I struggled to recover from surprise and frustration, without showing either. “You have security experience?” I said as if I didn’t already know the answer, grasping at the only reasonable excuse I might have to reject her services. There had to be a reason she was no longer guarding the boss, and if he didn’t trust her, why should I?
“Six years on my personal security detail,” Tower said, and I was starting to wonder if my new liaison even had a tongue. “I assure you, Kori is everything you requested, and more.”
Something silent and angry passed between Tower and the taller, older Daniels sister as her jaw clenched visibly and his gaze went hard. Kenley Daniels stared at her feet in the awkward silence, and Jonah Tower smirked when Kori flinched first, and looked away from her boss.
“Well, then, Mr. Holt, I believe we’re scheduled to discuss business later, but tonight is for drinking, and dancing, and mingling. I have some other guests to greet, so I’m going to leave you in Korinne’s capable hands for the moment. Please make yourself at home in my home.”
With that, Tower guided his wife toward a couple I vaguely recognized from the cover of some financial magazine, and the rest of his entourage followed. Leaving me alone with Korinne Daniels, who held an untouched flute of champagne but showed no sign of sipping from it. Or of acknowledging my presence.
How could she be alive? Where the hell had she been for the past few weeks? I’d made sure that none of the other women photographed with Tower recently had pale blond hair, specifically to avoid this kind of mistake.
Weeks of research and study, down the drain.
“So…” I said, watching Kori watch the rest of the room, trying not to let frustration leak into my voice. “You’re one of Tower’s bodyguards?”
“Was,” she said, and her posture tensed almost imperceptibly as she stared at something over my shoulder. I twisted to see Jonah Tower guiding her sister through the crowd with one hand at her lower back, and when I turned back to Kori, I found her eyes narrowed, one fist clenched at her side.
Were Jonah and Kenley involved? If so, Kori clearly didn’t approve. Neither did I. Jonah Tower didn’t like me, which could make it very hard for me to get close to Kenley if they were together. Unless her sister trusted me…
I studied Kori as she watched them wind their way through the crowd, trying to assess her more clearly now that I was over my initial surprise at being saddled with the wrong Daniels sister.
Korinne was slightly taller than her sister, but much thinner. Too thin, really. Her hip bones showed through the material of her dress and the points of her collarbone looked like they might pierce her skin at the slightest pressure. Her makeup was expertly applied, but couldn’t quite cover the dark circles under her eyes or skin that looked sickly pale, in contrast to her sister’s naturally fair complexion.
Still, she was pretty, in a hard-edged, angry kind of way.
Kori glanced up and caught me staring, and I held her gaze. “What do you do now?” I asked, trying to pick up the thread of a conversation that already seemed destined to unravel.
“Now I babysit you,” she snapped, and I blinked in the face of such candor. Then almost laughed out loud. I’d expected Tower’s people to be overaccommodating and ingratiatingly polite. Perhaps even sycophantic. Unvarnished honesty was a surprise.
“I meant, what do you do for Tower? What’s your role in his organization?” When my question produced only a blank, half-puzzled look, like she wasn’t sure she even knew the answer, I tried again from another angle. “Would it be impolite of me to ask about your Skill, considering you already know mine?”
“Hell yes.” She flinched and rubbed her temple with one hand. Then she rolled her eyes at nothing. “I’m a Traveler.”
A shadow-walker, just like Aaron.
“I assume you’re good with a gun, since you used to be a bodyguard. Any other special skills?” But I could tell with one look at her closed-off expression that I’d picked the wrong approach.
Kori Daniels didn’t want to talk about herself. She didn’t want to talk to me. And she certainly didn’t want to relax. She looked a little like she wanted to rip my head off and spit down my throat. “A special skill?”
I nodded, and too late I realized she’d found innuendo where I hadn’t intended it.
I shook my head and tried to rephrase the question, but then she stepped closer, until she was in my personal space, not quite touching me, but so close air couldn’t have flowed between us. She went up on her toes, like she might nibble on my ear, or share some dirty little secret. Then she whispered, so softly no one else could have heard.
“I do have a special skill,” she murmured, her breath warm on my neck, her voice soft and low-pitched, with that hot, gravelly quality some women get when they’re really turned on, and my pulse raced a little in spite of my very clear objective. “I’m pretty good with knives. I’m so good, in fact, that I could sever your testicles with one hand and slice open your throat with the other, and you’d go into shock so fast you’d die without ever knowing you’d spilled a fucking drop of blood.”
Korinne settled back onto her heels and smiled up at me like she’d just promised to fulfill my dirtiest, most secret desire, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
This was not the woman I’d ordered.