Born of Fire (The League #2)(48)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

When he found whatever he must have been searching for, he looked up and eyed her. Next, he moved to the back of the store where she couldn’t see him.

She debated going in after him. She felt awkward standing outside while passersby eyed her with way too much interest. But one look at the stony-faced clerks inside the store and she decided she had no interest in getting one step closer to them or their disdain. She didn’t need them to remind her of her lowly status.

Just as she finally made the decision to go in after him, he took several things up to the cashier. The man handed him a ledger and Syn signed while the man placed his purchases in a bag.

Once Syn rejoined her, he handed the jacket to her. “You wear a small, right?”

“Yes.” She scowled down at the warm soft suede in her hands. Dark brown, it was lined with synthetic fur that felt softer than down.

Syn continued on to the lifts.

Stunned, she hurried to catch up to him. She wanted to ask him about his gift, but the curious stares of the people around them kept her lips sealed.

It wasn’t until they were back in their room that she confronted him. Of course, by then, she was good and angry because she knew why men bought extravagant presents for women. Especially after they had sex . . .

Every time Caillen felt guilty about sleeping with a woman he didn’t care about, he would always go out and buy something for her that he couldn’t afford to assuage his conscience.

And the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. “Why did you do this?”

He stopped in the foyer. “You were freezing.” He placed the bag on the sofa nearest him.

“I won’t be tomorrow.”

“Maybe, maybe not. We don’t know what we’ll be doing tomorrow, now do we?”

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.