“It’s not tainted,” she says. “I don’t need to resort to such measures. After all, I have you precisely where I want you.”

“Do you?”

“Indeed. Or perhaps you think you’ve accomplished something by sneaking around the villa, lurking here and there like common criminals.”

“It’s better to be an uncommon criminal like you?”

“I’m a businesswoman,” she says with unruffled aplomb. “You distressed your father so much, you know, when you left that expensive finishing school. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps and manage the gallery after him. As if he ever earned a single credit without my help.”

“You came from a good family.” I’m struggling to understand. “How did you fall into . . . this?”

I can’t imagine the things she’s done for the Syndicate. Don’t want to. Her dark eyes have no bottom, and to my fevered imagination, it seems . . . no soul. No moral compass that tells her right from wrong. There’s a calculator instead, measuring value versus expenditure.

“I made a few investments with them, quietly, of course, and without your father’s knowledge. He never would’ve approved.”

Outrage sharpens my voice. “You think? Maybe that’s because he had a conscience, and he wouldn’t have wanted to spend credits that came from misery, vice, and murder.”

“He didn’t mind spending my money on ugly, expensive paintings that nobody ever bought,” she snaps. “He had no business or aesthetic sense at all.”

Oh, I hit a nerve with that. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the sensation. She doesn’t hold all the cards like she thinks she does. Our little group possesses skills she can’t imagine.

Nausea sweeps over me when I put it together. “You killed him. Or had him killed. And then put out word that he’d used a Eutha-booth.”

She doesn’t even try to deny it. “His little hobby was expensive and tiresome. And with the expansion to my territory, I needed the freedom to come and go without awkward questions.”

“After so many years together, that’s all he was to you? Awkward, expensive, and tiresome?”

I’m gazing into the eyes of a monster. I can’t let down my guard—the fact that she’s my mother provides no guarantees. I know that now.

“Your father was obsolete,” she says in final tones.

Like machinery.

I tuck this new hurt away with all the others, to be dealt with later. If I don’t get away from her, there will be no later. She’ll figure out some way to use me, or she’ll dispose of me. For her, there are no other options. She prefers the former, but she won’t balk at the latter.

“Well, if you’d kill him, of course you wouldn’t hesitate to start a war.” I sound calm, much calmer than I feel. “You really don’t care that thousands of people will die? Do you know what the bodies look like after a Morgut attack?”

“I’m told it’s quite painless,” she assures me. “The first bite injects a neurotoxin that blocks the nerve endings, resulting in paralysis.”

“And there’s money to be made. Weapons to sell. Private security contracts.” I test our theories to see how close we came to the truth.

“At least you sorted out what, if not who. You’re a bright girl, Sirantha.”

I wonder if she had anything to do with the assassination attempt on New Terra. “Did you blow up my Skimmer? What happened, you thought better of trying to use me after we had coffee?”

Ramona shakes her head. “That was a simple misunderstanding. I disciplined the person involved in the error.”

“How many pieces did he end up in?”

“Twelve.” And I don’t think she’s joking. “I’m sorry my men broke into your quarters. They seemed to think I wanted you terrorized for some reason, as if fear ever governs women like us.” She laughs lightly.

I hate that she lumps me in with her. If this is how she runs things, I bet she doesn’t pay much in pensions. It also explains Keller’s handling of the poor bastard who fucked up in the nav chair. Thank Mary, that had nothing to do with me.

“You’re one scary bitch,” I say, shaking my head. “I had no idea.”

“You still don’t.” She tips back her head and drains her drink. “For instance . . . I’m having your crew killed as we speak.”

I turn for the door, draw up short at the sound of laser fire. Unless they changed plans after Constance got to them—if she did—they’re all gathered together, waiting for me.

Shit.

She smiles. “In fact, they might already be dead.”

* * *

CHAPTER 52

l refuse to show fear. “You don’t know them as well as I do.”

For the first time, I’m glad March isn’t here. I prefer he never finds out how much crazy runs up and down my family tree.

“You’re expecting them to burst in and take me hostage, Sirantha?” Ramona lofts a brow in gentle skepticism. “Keller and his team can handle them. You didn’t honestly think Grubb and Boyle were our best, did you? There’s a reason I culled you from the herd now, darling. I didn’t want you caught in the cross fire.”

“I don’t think you realize you caught one of Madame Kang’s best when you cast your net.” A shot in the dark, because surely Keller mentioned it.

The name means nothing to me, but it inspired fear in her hired goons. Maybe it’ll affect my mother the same way.

Her eyes widen, and something swirls in their empty depths. “Lies. All Kang’s girls died when we raided her on Gehenna.”

“Not all,” Hit calls. “She may be gone, but I remember everything she taught me. You sent ten men for four of us?” Her laugh rings out.

From another direction, echoing oddly, I hear Jael’s voice. “You underestimated Jax’s crew. Bet you rue that later.”

“If we let you,” Vel adds.

I can’t tell where any of them are. It sounds like they’ve got the place surrounded, though, and I assume they’re all armed. So does Ramona. She makes a great show of holding up her hands.

“You win,” she says lightly. But fury seethes in her eyes. “I’m helpless now. Show yourselves so I can surrender.”

She’s weak as a boa constrictor, but they’re not stupid enough to fall for that. Dina and Constance remain unaccounted for, but it makes sense if they went ahead to the ship. Neither of them would be much help in a fight.

Jael steps from behind an ornate decorative screen, spattered in blood and gore. And I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. I take a step toward him, but he holds up a hand.

“No, I need to deal with her first. It pisses me off when people I don’t know try to kill me in my sleep. Well . . . where I would’ve been sleeping, anyway, if I wasn’t such a chary bastard.”

Ramona lifts her chin. “Just make it quick.”

This is where I’m supposed to intervene, stop him from killing her. Instead I turn my back. I expect to hear the quick whine of a laser pistol, but when I glance over my shoulder, I find Jael tying her up. He gags her before she can say we haven’t seen the last of her, or promise to make us sorry.

I’m already sorry she’s related to me. Does that count? I watch him wind the thin filament around her wrists. If she struggles too hard, she’ll cut herself.

“I thought you don’t like leaving anyone alive on your backtrail.”

He shrugs. “I can’t kill an unarmed woman. Call me old-fashioned. But you can shoot her if you want.”

“She’s my mother,” I point out.

“So that means you can’t shoot her?”

For a moment, I consider asking Hit to do it. I certainly can’t. Though I suspect I’ll regret letting Ramona live, I just don’t have that much ice in my veins. I hope she’ll walk away, leaving me out of her schemes after this.

“Pretty much.” I can’t be the reason she’s killed. If nothing else, her hungry, junkie spirit made me who—and what—I am today.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here before more goons turn up.” With that, he signals to the others that we’re moving out. “Thankfully she didn’t send all her guys after us, or we might’ve had some trouble.”

The way he looks, they did have some, but I don’t speak, mainly because our trot steals my breath. I need to do some endurance training one of these days. One hand clamped against my side, I try to keep up with Jael’s long, loping strides.

He’s apparently been studying the layout because he makes the turns with surety, leading us from the central salon to the corridor that adjoins the docking area. The walls become less decorative, more functional, and tile gives way to plain plaster.

Footsteps echo through the hallway behind us.

“Fuck. She called them faster than I gave her credit for. I should’ve shot her.”

We’re nearly to the private docking bay. I don’t know how we’re getting out, but as laser fire comes hot and hard on our heels, I hope like hell they have a plan. I dive and roll, coming to my feet around the corner.

Jael still has the pistol he was playing with in Dina’s room, so he covers me. Orange light flashes all around, searing the ground. I hope Hit and Vel got here before us because it looks like the party’s in full swing. I can’t tell how many guys Ramona has left, but she should’ve sent them all at my crew at once. The ragtag remainder fires on us, thinking they can keep us pinned down.

Thing is, lasers can’t kill Jael. So he shoves me along toward the shuttle, taking hit after hit. He groans low in his throat, but he doesn’t falter, and Dina pulls us on board. She slams a palm on the comm panel, and barks, “Let’s go!”

“Roger that,” comes Hit’s disembodied voice. “Hang on, it might get rough.”

The shuttle engines fire up, drowning out the sound of lasers striking the hull. If we don’t get a move on, we might be looking at a breach; and then we’re fucked. Damn, I can’t get my breath.

“What took you so long?” the mechanic demands.

“Everyone else here?” I bend over, hands on knees.

“Yeah. After she warned us about the change in plan, Constance came in with me, and we prepped the ship. The other three killed a few guys, and saved your ass.”

The understatement makes me smile. We lurch as Hit takes us up, and Dina swears beneath her breath when she slams into the wall. I hear more than see her head for the seats. We all need to strap in.

When my vision stops sparkling from oxygen deprivation, I straighten and check on Jael. Propped up against the wall, he looks pale and clammy, eyes clenched tight. He smells of smoke and charred flesh, so a shudder runs through me when I step closer. But he’s not dead like the victims on the Sargasso.

He needs me.

Steadying myself with a deep breath, I wrap an arm around his waist. “I’ve got you, come on. They left the last two seats for us.”