Chasing Silver Read online

  She rose from the seat so abruptly he had to blink in order to see her standing at her full height. Even more alarming was the gun that had suddenly appeared in her hand. He hadn’t seen her draw it, let alone where she could have had it holstered.

  He didn’t flinch when she pressed the muzzle to the middle of his forehead. “The only reason Tian didn’t kill you as soon as his boys brought you in was because of me. I don’t know why you’re protecting that bitch, but don’t think it’s going to do any good. I got your partner without breaking a sweat. I’ll get her, too.”

  “Technically, you scratched Isaac. He didn’t even have to go to the hospital,” Nathan pointed out. “And there is something to be said for the home-field advantage, Ms. Henryk.” He moved his hands, trying to ease the throbbing in his palm. “I’m not from the future or anything, but I predict you’re not leaving Los Angeles.”

  The gun never wavered. “A little old for believing in science-fiction stories, aren’t you?”

  “Are you trying to tell me Star Trek isn’t real?”

  Her lips pressed so thin, they almost disappeared. “I think I’m beginning to understand. That’s a blatant disregard for authority you’re showing there. No wonder you’re so eager to believe Remy’s little lies.”

  “Well, yes, there is that. And her tits.”

  She didn’t speak. For a brief moment, Nathan wondered if he’d gone too far. In the end, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t ever going to give Remy over to her.

  “Cesar is dying to get his hands on you, you know. Something about payback, I think he said.” The gun was moving, away from his head, down his neck and along his arm, the heavy metal catching on his skin as she dragged it along. “Maybe I should get the ball rolling. Start taking you apart, piece by piece, until you tell me what I need to know.”

  “He probably took that knife in his back personally,” Nathan said, watching the nose of the gun as it traveled up his arm, cold and hard. “I don’t know why. I didn’t take the grenade—”

  Before Nathan finished his sentence, she jammed the barrel of the gun into his burned hand. He managed to keep the scream from ripping through his throat, but just barely. White-hot slivers of agony flew up his arm and lodged in his shoulder and chest. He couldn’t breathe for several seconds, and he didn’t miss the look of surprise, or pleasure, on Kirsten’s face.

  “Personally,” he finally wheezed as sweat rolled down his neck.

  “Interesting.”

  Without moving the gun, she edged closer to the head of the bed, reaching forward with her other hand to uncurl his fingers and pull them straight. She began to trace over the burn, not the one her gun mostly covered on his palm but the fainter markings on the calloused pads of his fingers. Her touch was cool and light, and while he could see what she was doing if he dared to crane his neck, there was no way he would give the bitch the satisfaction.

  “It would appear you’ve been lying to me, Mr. Pierce.”

  Bloody fucking hell.

  “Yes,” Nathan said around the fresh lump in his throat, “you caught me. I’ll have to ask your pardon.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  Her hand disappeared from his, and she stepped back in order to see his face, at the same time pressing the gun more firmly against the burn.

  The shock had been the worst part, and now the agony settled over him like a thick blanket. It took a few moments to adjust, but he had survived worse pain. And one thing trumped the raw throbbing. Anger. This bitch had nearly killed both Remy and Isaac, and he’d be twice damned before he let her break him. He clung to that anger now.

  “It’s a bit unpleasant, yes. But pain is subjective.”

  Her eyes were like ice as they regarded him, seconds stretching into a minute and then two before she spoke or moved. “Yes, Mr. Pierce. And I’m sure Cesar will take great pleasure demonstrating that principle for you.”

  Nathan didn’t reply, returning her stare until she backed away from the bed and moved to the door. He held his breath as he watched her leave, releasing it in a pained moan when she shut the door. What am I going to do? What the fuck am I going to do?

  He hoped by now Remy would have contacted Isaac. Isaac would immediately start looking for him, and given the recent trouble with Tian, he’d start checking his informants. But he hoped Isaac had the good sense to get Remy out of Kirsten’s reach. The woman was powerless without Remy, and frustrated. That combination could lead to weakness.

  Several minutes dragged by. He imagined Cesar in the hallway, his sly mouth twisted in an impatient grin. He’d want to make a big entrance, want to put Nathan on edge. Nathan didn’t know as much about Cesar as he did Tian, but he knew enough. Cesar had done his first stint in juvie at age eleven, three months for stealing a car. After that, the sentences and the offenses only snowballed. Eight months here for breaking and entering, fifteen months there for attempted rape, a full two years for assaulting a police officer.

  He had disappeared for several years after his eighteenth birthday, only to turn up again in Los Angeles as Tian’s right-hand man. Though his record as an adult was more or less clean—he got smarter in the intervening years—Nathan knew what he was capable of. He wouldn’t be surprised if Cesar tortured animals in his spare time.

  And he knew for a fact Cesar didn’t give a damn about Remy, Kirsten Henryk, or the Silver Maiden. He was there for his own purposes, and Kirsten only thought they aligned with hers. It didn’t matter what Cesar had planned. Nathan wasn’t going to tell him anything.

  Finally, Cesar slipped into the room, his smile identical to the one Nathan had envisioned. He carried a clothes basket brimming with all sorts of items. Nathan thought he saw some clothes hangers, a few boxes of soap, lemon juice, and a long, black cord, among other things.

  “Nathan. I have been dying to see you,” Cesar greeted.

  “I’m surprised you’re already back on your feet. I thought it would take more than a few days to heal from a wound like that.”

  “I have a strong constitution,” Cesar said, taking the items out of the basket and placing them on top of the dresser.

  Nathan watched for a moment. “Did you come in here to clean? I’d help, but…”

  Cesar looked over his shoulder, his eyes flat. “They wouldn’t let me leave to get my supplies. So I had to make do. It’s amazing how many common household items will work in a pinch. The average American leads a very dangerous life.”

  “Indeed,” Nathan murmured, his skin crawling.

  With a pair of wire snippers he had in his back pocket, Cesar cut one of the hangers. He pulled the wire straight, holding the very sharp edge up to the light. “Ready?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  More than once, Isaac repeated his instructions in the car. “Mouth shut, eyes open.” He said it so many times, Remy was ready to stuff his phone down his throat by the time he pulled the car to a stop in the crowded parking lot.

  Her brows shot up as she stared at the glass-fronted building. A bookstore.

  Isaac tapped on her window and gestured for her to get out. His eyes were hidden behind his shades, but his mouth was still drawn into a tight line as she got out of the car. “In and out,” he said. “We don’t have all day. And don’t—”

  “Fuck this up. Got it. Any other words of wisdom you want to impart?”

  For a moment, Isaac looked like he was going to snap at her again. She had no idea why she was goading him as much as she was—well, that was a little bit of a lie. She pushed because he’d pushed first, the reaction too instinctive to stop. But she did know that sooner or later, she had to stop. Isaac meant the world to Nathan, and if Remy wanted them to have any kind of future together, she had to learn how to play nice.

  Of course, they had to get Nathan back first.

  They would. Failure was not an option.

  The store loomed large and empty around them as she followed Isaac through the faux wood trimmed doors. Lights bright and many scored the warehouse ceil
ing, while row after row of shelved books stretched to the back of the store. The scent of brewing coffee made her stomach rumble.

  Isaac glanced back at her. “Didn’t you have breakfast?”

  Remy shook her head. “That’s what the groceries were for. Nathan’s kitchen is pathetic.”

  Though he continued navigating through the wide aisles, she caught a glimpse of a smile on his face. It was the first one she had seen all morning. “Why do you think I always bring food over?” he commented. There was a pause. “Tell you what. We’ll grab Miles and go sit in the café for our meeting. If you’ve got food in your mouth, odds are better you won’t talk.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she muttered. It was a good sign, though. Isaac wouldn’t make the offer if he hated her, would he?

  They slipped between two laden rows of shelves with a placard across their top labeled “Humor.” She hoped that wasn’t Isaac’s idea, because she didn’t think it was funny at all.

  He came to a stop, stuffing his hands deep into his pants pockets. “Good book?”

  She looked around his broad back to see the man he addressed kneeling in front of the shelves. Dressed in long shorts and a baggy T-shirt that covered his prominent paunch, he regarded Isaac with shrewd brown eyes, pudgy fingers not moving away from the comic strip he’d been following along in the book he held. “Not bad.” His gaze flickered to Remy, but if he was surprised to see her, it didn’t show in his face. “You brought a date.”

  “She’s not a date. She’s—”

  “Remy Capra.” She pushed past Isaac to crouch down next to the man, smiling as she stuck out her hand. “Consider me an interested party.”

  Nodding, he shook her hand. She expected a man of his size to have sweaty palms, but his were warm and dry, the strength in his fingers unsurprising. This close, she could see the fading pockmarks from adolescent acne, the broken capillaries in his wide nose. He wasn’t even thirty, but between the receding hairline and the haunting sadness behind his eyes, she would bet he was often mistaken for at least ten years older.

  “Miles Morgan.” He lumbered to his feet, his knees audibly cracking from the awkward movements. Marking his page with his finger, he closed the book and held it loosely at his side, never once taking his gaze away from her. “You’re the one who knifed Cesar.”

  Isaac stepped forward before Miles had finished speaking, grabbing Remy’s elbow and hauling her back and out of the way. She winced at how tight his hold was. “She’s not a threat to you. You’ve got my word on that.”

  Miles shrugged. “You think I care if someone wants to stick it to that son of a bitch? He’s half the reason I’m even talking to you, McGuire. Anyone who wants Cesar dead is my friend, not my enemy.”

  She liked him. When it came to people, Remy followed her gut, and something deep inside told her Miles Morgan was a man to be trusted. “You want to get a coffee? Because I’m starving, and Ike here promised we could do this over food.”

  He jerked sharply on her arm. “It’s Isaac,” he hissed.

  Miles’s gaze darted dispassionately over the pair. “Sure. I could do a doughnut.”

  None of them spoke until after they were seated at a small table tucked in the corner of the café. Isaac had been forced to let her go when it came time to pay, and Remy made sure she took the seat next to Miles when they sat down.

  He might be Isaac’s informant, but Nathan was as much her priority as he was his friend’s. She would be damned if she got left out of the questioning, especially since the guy didn’t seem to hate her. It made a nice change. She was getting a little tired of being on everybody’s shit list.

  “Nathan’s missing,” Isaac said without preamble.

  “Yeah.” Miles blew across his steaming cup. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Tian grab him?”

  “Would I have let you make this meeting so quickly if he hadn’t?”

  Isaac swore under his breath, leaning back in his chair. It gave Remy the opening she wanted to break into the conversation.

  “How is it you know anything at all about Tian? No way you’re part of his gang, not as soft as you are.”

  The two men exchanged a look, ending in Isaac’s casual shrug. “It’s your life, Miles. I wouldn’t have brought her along if I didn’t trust her.”

  The vote of approval took Remy by surprise, but she didn’t have time to push him on it. Miles sighed, breaking apart his bear claw and shoving morsels into his mouth.

  “I’m Tian’s money man. Tian and I…we grew up together. He always watched my back, one way or another. Difference was, I was good in school, and he wasn’t. When I moved back after college, he asked if I wanted a job, and I said yes. Didn’t blink. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for Tian. He saved my ass more than once.”

  “And yet you’ve gone from president of his fan club to a sell-out in three seconds flat.”

  “No.” The force of the simple word had crumbs spewing out of his mouth, falling to the swell of his stomach. Miles ignored them in favor of leaning forward, closer to Remy. His eyes bored into hers, but she didn’t back down. “This isn’t about Tian. This is about that psycho Cesar, filling his head with delusions of grandeur that are going to get him killed. I’m only doing this to keep my friend from ending up in the morgue even faster than he already will, and if that means he spends a few years behind bars cooling his heels, so be it. Just as long as Cesar is out of the picture.”

  It was honest. Even better, it matched with what Nathan had told her about Cesar, how worried he had been about his presence at Rojo. She yielded on the matter with a nod and a bite of her banana muffin.

  “I need to know where he’s keeping Nathan,” Isaac said.

  Miles shook his head. “No, that’s too much. Too dangerous. Especially since she’s going to be next.” At their startled looks, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. She stabbed Cesar in the back. He’s out for blood and he’s going to get it, one way or another.”

  “Would they consider a trade?” The offer was on the table before she could stop it, but as soon as she said it out loud, Remy knew it was their best chance. “Me for Nate.”

  Miles looked doubtful, but Isaac looked like someone had dropped a pound of sour balls into his coffee. “No, no way. No trade.”

  “Why not?” Remy demanded.

  His eyes were blazing when they met hers. “Because I said so. Because Nathan would kill me if I let anything happen to you. And because it’s a fucking stupid idea, that’s why not.”

  “It is kind of stupid,” Miles interjected.

  She only half heard. She was too busy bristling with fresh anger. “If you think I’m going to sit back and do nothing, you don’t know the first thing about me. Nate means too much to me to lose him now, especially because his so-called best friend is too boneheaded to use what assets he’s got to get the job done. Like me.”

  Miles’s head swiveled back to Isaac. “She’s got a point. Anybody who can take a slice out of Cesar is an asset.”

  “Shut up,” Isaac growled. Reaching across the table, he grabbed Remy’s wrist and yanked her forward. Though it hardly stopped Miles from hearing what he said, it created an air of intimacy between them that made it impossible for her to ignore his next words. “Tell me why I should let you in any deeper than you already are.”

  “You have to.” Her voice was low, intense. “You need me. You won’t find anybody else who’ll fight for Nate as hard as me, because nobody else cares about him as much as I do. Well, except you, but I figure that’s a given.” She paused, debating the wisdom of the words poised on her tongue, but decided to hell with it. “I’m not Susanna. I am not going to hurt Nate. I promise you.”

  Mentioning Susanna rattled Isaac enough to let her go, eyes narrowing in further assessment. She wondered how much the two men talked about the woman from their past. Not much, if this reaction was anything to go by.

  “Are we done here?” Miles asked, interrupti
ng the tension between Remy and Isaac. She looked over to see him brushing the crumbs from his T-shirt. “I’m not going to tell you where they’re keeping him, McGuire. I can’t. All I can tell you is last time I heard, there wasn’t any intention to kill him yet. So you probably have a little bit of time to find him on your own.”

  “We’d have more time if you could tell me where he is,” Isaac said.

  “Probably,” came the amiable response. “But I’m not.” The chair squeaked across the floor as he pushed it back and rose to his feet. He nodded to Remy. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Capra. Feel free to take another stab at Cesar next time you see him.”

  He was gone within moments.

  “Now what do we do?” She hadn’t expected to reach a dead end with Isaac’s informant, and from the look on his face, he hadn’t either. But she had no clue what step they could take next.

  “We’ll figure it out.” He repeated it as if doing so would make it more likely to happen. “We’ll figure it out.”

  * * *

  Nathan didn’t know when Tian arrived. Each impossible long minute blended in his mind. Time felt as hot and thick as the blood rolling down his chest, and eventually, it became just as meaningless. Had Tian been there since the beginning? Had he seen everything? Heard everything? Or did he only just arrive, lured by the scent and sounds of suffering?

  Cesar’s smile never left his face. It hung above Nathan with mocking good cheer. Tian wasn’t smiling, though. His eyes were black discs, wide and empty. The two men stood on either side of the bed, regarding him, but neither touching him. When Nathan felt the world begin to blur, he’d curl his burned hand, and the familiar pain would cut through the red fog and bring him back.

  “Well, Nathan Pierce. I never thought I’d see the day,” Tian said.

  “Who’s helping you?”

  Tian’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you have to say? You don’t want some water? You’re not going to beg for mercy?”