Into the Shadows Page 9

  No had always been their safe word. They were very plain in that way. But she couldn’t quite form the word.

  His lips landed on hers, another whiskey kiss. He pulled away. “I may not know a lot about relationships, but I know that when a man insults you like I did up there, a guy who’s with you doesn’t just pin me to the wall.” He kissed her again. “He comes after me with everything. He wants to hurt me.”

  He kissed her again, melting her a little bit. “A man who’s with you can barely hold back from putting his fist into my face, or wrapping his hand around my throat, even though it’s the idiot thing to do.”

  “Maybe Richard’s not an idiot.”

  He climbed slowly onto her. “A man who’s with you, any little insult and he goes so fucking crazy.” He kissed her again, whispering against her lips, warm and soft. “Richard was just messing with me. He was warning me. That’s how a friend stands up for a friend.”

  “Thorne…” she breathed.

  “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’re with him.”

  She could feel the tension in his bad hand. The feel of his body had always given him away.

  “You know how I feel about poaching on another man’s territory,” he said, good hand roving down her belly, trailing raw energy. “Tell me you’re with him.”

  “I’m not with him, but—”

  And there it was, the sparkle of evil. “What’s wrong, Party Princess? Don’t feel like slumming it tonight?”

  He wanted to play their game, that one last trapdoor between them.

  He pressed his rough, rosy lips to the tender skin beneath her upper arm. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’m not playing the game.”

  “Say it, Party Princess.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Close, but not quite.” He pushed his knee between her thighs, shifting up on her so that his leg pressed into her cleft, drugging her with feeling.

  She lifted her hips toward him, soaking up his body. They could fuck. Why couldn’t they fuck? “Let’s just…” She broke from his hold and grabbed his curls, pulling him to her. “Come here.” She wanted him to want her without the game. She wanted to be more to him than a convenient fuckbuddy who knew where his buttons and levers were and what to say to get him riled. More than a piece of soap.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he said, crushing her lips in a kiss. “Say it.”

  “I don’t feel like saying it.”

  She gasped as he popped a button off her shirt and laid a rough kiss on the bulge of her breast at the inner edge of her bra cup. “Do I have to destroy this entire shirt for you to remember how to say it?”

  “I’m not saying it.”

  “Do I have to put on the glasses? Because I will.” He trailed a hand down over her belly, down under the waistband of her jeans, heading toward the center of her sex, swollen, hot, desperate for him. Her heart raced as he undid her snaps. One, two three. “Because I know you’re thinking it.”

  “Fuck off.” She tried to push him off. “I’m not that woman anymore, and I’m not calling you that.”

  He slid his fingers toward her point of no return.

  “Just no, okay? No.”

  He stilled over her mound, panting. He took his hand from her pants and pushed her hair off her forehead. “Okay, princess.”

  A flash of hurt shone in his eyes, and then he simply flopped off her.

  She wanted to yell at him. So if I’m not playing the game, then forget it? You only want me if I’m being disdainful and calling you names?

  But she didn’t want to know the answer. God, if only he’d want her without all that, she could even forget about the hotel soap for a little while.

  So pathetic.

  “So much for this shirt.” She inspected the broken loops of thread and the little tear where a button had been. “No, Thorne, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to apologize so profusely.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She sighed, body still buzzing with hot, needy energy. This was not the aura of confidence and sharing she’d come down to create.

  “Can I see it?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “What,” he bit out. “It was only our Holy Grail for three months.”

  The photo. Of course. “I think you had lots of Holy Grails in this house,” she said. “Climbing the criminal ladder. Grabbing up the spoils of Victor’s crumbling empire.”

  “True enough,” he said, looking around the room. He was looking for the photo, she realized.

  “It’s not on display,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “It’s private.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” she said.

  He waited. She could feel the hurt twist in him as he came to understand that she really wouldn’t be showing him the photo. But how could she? If he saw it, he’d figure out the story. And he’d figure out about the co-ops. He’d know she was one of the co-op pirates.

  “It’s just…very private.”

  “Okay,” he said, voice rough and hard. It wasn’t okay. He’d taken the search as personally as she had.

  “Not like that. It’s just not a nice picture…”

  “I get it.” The clipped word broke her heart a little.

  “No—”

  He clapped a hand over her arm. Rufus began to growl, a low, menacing rumble. Her first thought was that Rufus was picking up on Thorne’s emotions about not being able to see the picture, but then Thorne spoke. “You get your sister and the kid to the safe room,” he whispered. “Take the tunnel right out to the shed garage. Is there a vehicle up there?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “Take Richard with you. Go.” He pulled out his phone, pushed a few buttons, and put it to his ear. “Trouble.” He clicked off. Rousting his guys.

  “What’s going on?”

  Thorne stood and pulled her up. “Someone’s out there.”

  “Do you need Richard? I could talk to him.”

  “Richard’s the second toughest guy in this house,” Thorne said. “With you is where I need him.” He pulled a gun from his ankle holster and another from a shadowed nook by the fireplace.

  “You need any hardware?” she asked.

  “We’re good. Just go. They’re after me, not you.”

  A shadow moved and she stiffened.

  “It’s okay. My guy,” he said as his friend Hack came out. “Get out of here.” Still, there was that pain in his eyes. “Take Rufus with you. This isn’t his kind of fight.” He pressed the leash into her hand. “House code still the same?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered. “Good luck.” She ran low to the stairs and sped up.

  The bedroom area was the most reinforced. The windows were bulletproof. She opened Richard’s door and roused him. “Get Kara and meet me in the safe room.”

  She ran to Benny’s room and picked him up, gathering him into her arms. “Come on, baby.” She grabbed Benny’s floppy-head teddy bear, shoved his car-riding duck and the truck picture book into his diaper bag, and rushed across the room to the closet, flinging open the door. She shoved the clothes aside, pressed a series of numbers, and turned the handle, pulling out the door, heavy as a vault door.

  Benny clung onto her with his little hands, eyes still full of sleep as she went in and pulled the door shut after Rufus, whose back hair was bristling. He wasn’t a proper playmate for Benny, but she liked having him there now. The safe room was posh inside, like a mini hotel suite with a bed and couches and even a stocked kitchenette.

  “Seep,” Benny pouted.

  She kissed his forehead. “I know, but we’re going in the secret tunnel, Benny. Remember the secret tunnel?”

  He looked at her with drowsy wonder, not quite believing she was using her exciting adventure voice in the middle of the night. Or maybe not quite sure he was awake. He didn’t distinguish between fantasy and reality a lot.

  “Can you hold Mister Beebee? We can show Mister Beebee and Rufus the tunnel.” Gl
ass shattered in the living room. A gunshot. Silencer shot; it sounded like a pop.

  Rufus growled viciously, straining at his leash, wanting to get to Thorne, probably. She yanked. “Quiet!”

  He settled down.

  “Rufus, sit!” Where the hell were Richard and Kara?

  “Budis!” Benny said, his name for the dog.

  A tap on the door. “It’s us.” Richard and Kara came in. Richard wore the jacket he liked to fight in, and he was fully armed. Carrying for both of them. “Slaters?”

  “I don’t know. Their business is with Thorne.” She turned to Kara. “Can you take Rufus?”

  Kara took the leash with a dark glance.

  Nadia adjusted a squirming Benny to just one arm. He wanted down. She punched in the combination at the other side of the safe room and pulled open the door—the safe room secret exit.

  Richard led the way, Sig at his thigh. They tried not to wave guns around in front of Benny. It wasn’t the model she wanted for him.

  They went single file down the stairs. “Don’t squirm, Benny,” she whispered. “Are you showing Mister Beebee?” She turned the bear so that his head was facing out. “Now he can see where we’re going. Tell him where we are.”

  “Sekwit,” Benny said in his sweet little voice.

  They went down another flight and then came to the tunnel that ran under the house and yard. It led to the shed garage, way out at the perimeter of the place.

  Kara came up beside them and poked Benny’s belly. “Neato!” she said, one of Benny’s favorite words.

  Nadia laughed a laugh she didn’t feel. “Neato-neato-neato!”

  Kara widened her eyes. “Noodles!”

  That got a smile out of Benny.

  “Can you let Benny walk while I talk to Richard? We’re going to be in the car awhile.” Nadia put Benny down and took the leash.

  “Ooh!” Kara said. “Gimme your hand, buddy!”

  Benny reached up. Nadia and Rufus caught up to Richard.

  “What’s the deal? Did you get anything?” Richard asked.

  “Politics are brewing inside Hangman. Quartet gangs think it’s Thorne taking down the co-ops. Or Thorne leading Hangman on it. Some of Hangman even thinks it’s Thorne.” She took the nine Richard passed to her.

  “They think it’s Thorne? Why? Because it seems psycho?”

  “And because it’s somebody with their fingers in all the silos. Who would have that kind of intel?”

  “Fuck.”

  “I know,” she said. “Apparently we were framing him the whole time—as the leader of the co-op pirates.”

  “We need to get Benny and Kara somewhere totally off the grid,” Richard said. “The Sundown Radisson. They won’t check IDs or licenses.”

  “And the jig is up, by the way—he knows we’re not together. You should’ve choked him or hit him or something.”

  “I know,” he said. “Co-op pirates?”

  “Yup.”

  “They’re going to start keeping those co-ops light. We’re not going to find cash or iPhones in them anymore. Maybe not even smack or weapons. Probably just a lot of muscle.”

  “What if we move Baypointe up to tonight? It’s fully planned. Everything’s set. We still have time. We could hit like a flash. They won’t have muscle in place yet, and they won’t expect two nights in a row. They may not even have it cleared out.”

  Richard appeared to think about this, but she suspected he’d go for it—he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie. “And what happens if we don’t find the Hangman cash? The guys will be wanting something for payment,” Richard said. “They won’t work for free.”

  “I’ll owe them.”

  “They don’t work on IOUs.”

  “You’re working on an IOU,” she said. For whenever they sold the mansion.

  “I know you’re good for it,” Richard said, smile in his voice.

  “Let’s drop them at the hotel and go in like a flash,” she said again. “Tonight. We could end it. Everything’s in place. I bet the guys go for it.”

  “Maybe.” The lead-up day was always the hardest.

  “This one could be it.”

  Richard looked at her without expression. Did he think her mother was dead already?

  Nadia had looked at that photo so often, she could picture her mother perfectly, and she’d recognize her even at thirty years older. The apple cheekbones. The big brown-gold eyes. She wished she could’ve shown Thorne. God, she hated how she’d left him. She would have shown him the photo if she could have. “He’s only got two guys. Against Hangman.”

  “It’s Thorne,” Richard said. “And he knows the house. No way I’d bet against him.”

  “They probably sent in an army.” They were under the garage now. She punched in another code.

  “I still wouldn’t bet against Thorne.”

  “Do you agree on tonight? If we go tonight, maybe they won’t have had time to clean it out. There could still be something for the guys to steal.”

  And she never wanted to frame Thorne. And most of all, her mother was running out of time—she felt it in her gut.

  They came to the foot of the steps. Richard signaled for Kara and Benny to stay back. It was unlikely whoever was trying to force their way into the house would have people in the service road garage, but you never knew.

  She and Richard climbed up. He took Rufus and breached the door. She slipped out the other side and they moved through the space like a team, just as they’d practiced so often. Once it was clear inside, they went out and around it. It was convenient, having Rufus there to help clear.

  “Hitting Baypointe—a one-two when they’re reeling. Risky as fuck,” Richard said once they were back at the door. But she could hear a slight breathlessness. He had a taste for action and violence. He’d come up as a street thief and had graduated to doing retrievals for the Vegas mob before Victor had traded for him. She’d never gotten a clear definition of exactly what Richard had been retrieving for the mob, if it was things or people. Both, she figured.

  She poked Richard in the stomach. “You in?”

  “Of course I am,” he said. “I’ll call the guys.”

  Chapter Seven

  He closed his eyes and let his awareness spin out. The mansion hadn’t been breached. It would take a while for them to get in.

  Skooge appeared from the shadows white-knuckling his weapon, body rigid. Nervous.

  Thorne opened a panel next to the fireplace and punched in the code. Ribbed metal shades dropped down over all the windows with a great clanking sound, reducing points of entry.

  He turned to Skooge. “Whatya think we got here?” It wasn’t about the question—he needed to hear Skooge speak in order to get a feel for what was going on inside of him. Like smelling a piece of fruit to check for ripeness. Rottenness.

  “Too dark out there to see.”

  There was something about the nonanswer that Thorne didn’t like. Thorne was pretty sure Jerrod and his most faithful allies were out there. Jerrod must have manufactured evidence implicating him, trying to get to him before he could prove his innocence. He’d expected it, but not this fast.

  “What do you think, though?”

  “Didn’t see.”

  Thorne had heard enough. He had him in a headlock before Skooge could point his piece at him. He made him drop it and choked him out. Skooge collapsed. Thorne hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him to the safe room, which acted as a prison when you didn’t know the combination. He tied him up there, took Skooge’s phone, and closed him in. Thorne put on his reading glasses, and sure enough, he’d gotten a call from Jerrod just ten minutes ago. Probably letting him know what was happening. Instructing him to stand down.

  He found Hack in the upstairs den. Hack raised his hands, gun hanging by his thumb. “For the record, I don’t think you did the co-ops.”

  Thorne squinted. He knew this was a good thing. Expect loyalty, Dax had said.

  “Jerrod called,” Hack add
ed.

  “You’d back me up against your number one?”

  “I’ll back a man wrongly accused,” Hack said.

  Thorne stared into Hack’s eyes, fringed in light brown lashes, hair lopsided from a short stint of sleep.

  “I’m with you, man,” Hack added.

  Hack. An ally willing to help him against Jerrod, but could he believe him? Trust him? The stakes were so high, and he always worked alone.

  “Come on, man.” Hack didn’t understand Thorne’s hesitation. “What’s the plan?”

  “Drive them out, lock this place down, and keep looking,” Thorne said remotely.

  “Okay, then,” Hack said. “I take up here?”

  Thorne screwed up his cheeks. “Dammit.”

  “What?”

  Dax was always saying that Thorne needed to trust somebody and make allies if he was to lead Hangman. To make an ally, you have to be an ally, Dax had suggested when Thorne asked him how. You have to give something. Embarrassing that Dax had believed he needed to explain this stuff to Thorne. But he did.

  “Do you not believe me?” Hack asked.

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Hack was a numbers man, a code man, one of the men who typically averted his eyes during Russian roulette. Here he was offering partnership, but Thorne couldn’t quite trust it; trust was a muscle that had atrophied over years of betrayal—his mother walking off without a backward glance, his father leaving him and his sister to fend for themselves half the time, the lowlife crews he ran with coming up. People always trying to get rid of him. Kill him. Easier to face an army of Hangman soldiers than to trust.

  “Dude,” Hack said.

  “Sorry.” Thorne had Hack’s gun in a flash.

  “What the fuck?”

  Thorne twisted his arm and walked him to the hall. “I trust you, but…I need you in here.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I know,” Thorne said. Anyone else would have taken this gift.

  “You’re an idiot and an asshole,” Hack said. “I’m with you, man.”

  “I know.” Thorne tied him up in the safe room next to drooling, unconscious Skooge. Give him something, Dax had said.

  “I’m working on trust,” Thorne said. “This whole ally thing. I’m not used to it, is all.”