Crucible Steele (Daggers & Steele Book 5) (23 page)

I nodded toward his keychain. “Do I get one of those once I’m initiated?”

“If you have need of traveling this route, yes,” said Cobb. “Though I should ask…how are you with lock picking? If rusty, that might be a skill you should practice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cobb held out his hand. “Ladies first.”

I gave him the old snap and point. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding that sense of humor from me this whole time. But honestly, you’ve got the lantern, and I don’t know where we’re going. Shouldn’t you lead?”

“I need to lock the door behind us,” said Cobb in an irritated tone. “Otherwise I wouldn’t carry the keys, now would I?”

I stepped on through, thinking perhaps I should stop antagonizing the man, but it was so difficult when in my mind I pictured him playing a crucial role in the horrible events that had befallen both of my partners.

The gate clanged shut, and I turned, ready to go.

Cobb was on the other side of it.

37

My heart sank, but I played my part. I forced my eyebrows to furrow. “Is this part of the initiation? Because I was under the impression there’d be paddles involved.”

Cobb backed away from the gate, a smile creeping across his face. Yup—I definitely wanted to punch him.

“Sorry, Baggers,” said Cobb. “I’d love to stay and chat and hear more of your clever witticisms, but I’ve other things to do. I hope you understand. I’m sure you will eventually. Despite your persona, I get the feeling you’re not as dumb as you look.”

Cobb turned and started back down the corridor. I grasped one of the rusted metal bars and yanked. The gate clanged in its lock, but it didn’t give.

“Cobb! Wait!” I called. “Let’s talk this over.”

Like the true heartless bastard he was, he didn’t even slow. His footsteps receded, and the light of his lantern faded until it left me in complete and total darkness. I tried the gate a couple more times, but despite my best wishes, the lock didn’t spontaneously shatter into a thousand shards. With the weight of responsibility crushing my back and shoulders, I slumped forward and rested my head against the metal bars. A thought that had raised its hand in an effort to get my attention now stood and made itself known.

I’d been played.

Somehow, the Wyverns must’ve discovered I was a cop—one that was still employed rather than one who’d been expelled for his violence and immorality. But how had they known? Perhaps Lazarus had been wrong. Maybe there
was
an informant at the Grant Street Precinct after all, and when asked about Drake Baggers, he’d told the Wyverns he’d never heard of me.

Or maybe it was simpler than that. Lazarus had indicated he thought the 5
^th
Street Precinct had a mole in its midst. Perhaps upon hearing my assumed name and former occupation come across their collective desks, the Wyverns had solicited information from all their police sources. Someone at the 5
^th
could’ve easily made the connection between my real name and fake variant.
Drake Baggers.
Lazarus had been right. I was an idiot to think no one would recognize the similarities. How difficult would it have been to train myself to react to something mundane, like John Johnson?

Of course, if the Wyverns
had
discovered my true identity, why had they treated me the way they had? Why invite me to take part in the crucible at all? Why not summarily ignore me following Lazarus’s recommendation? Or a more morbid thought—why not make an attempt on my life? Clearly the gang no longer had any qualms about murder, not after their disposal of Barrett and Griggs and Cobb’s instructions to me to similarly eliminate Jeremy Droot.

Instead, the Wyverns had welcomed me to take part in their trials, and stacked the deck against me with individuals who, I could only assume, they’d instructed to lose—although Ted, for one, seemed intent on getting that brooch at the Metro. So why had the Wyverns strung me along? The obvious answer was to keep me out of the way, but out of the way of
what?
Was I closer than I knew to tearing the veil from their whole organization? What was the key? It must’ve been something to do with Barrett or Griggs’ investigation, because I couldn’t imagine I’d stumbled across anything else that had me knocking at their doorstep. Even then, Steele, Rodgers, and Quinto knew far more about those investigations than I did. Was that why they’d kidnapped Steele? Because she knew something crucial? Something she’d shared with me at our last meeting perhaps?

Steele.
I’d put myself in this position for her, at least once Rodgers and Quinto had delivered their news. Now I’d squandered whatever chance I had, and she was in even greater danger than I’d previously suspected.

I stood there in the starless subterranean night, the metal bars of the gate pressing into my forehead like knives of despair. The darkness was so complete I couldn’t even see a whisper of a ghost of their form, but I could feel them. Suffer their cold bite. Smell their rusty coats and the mildew and mold beyond. Hear the scratch of my own nails as they scraped against their surface, and the irregular drip drop of water somewhere in the chasm behind me.

I lifted my head and turned. Where was I anyway? And that sound… I was mistaken. It wasn’t the patter of drops on stone or earth. It was too alive. Too pained. What was it?

I walked forward slowly, my hand held out at my side, trailing along the wall. After a few steps, it gave way. I swept my other arm before me and touched nothing. A room, then. Of some size, perhaps.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I ventured onward in the direction of the sound. Was it…
sobbing?
After a few more paces, it stopped—possibly in response to my footsteps.

“Is…someone there?”

I heard a mumbled response, relatively close.

I took a few more steps forward, and my hand brushed against something. Heavy wool. An arm. Slender. Strands of long hair, holding in them a hint of lilac.

I recognized the fragrance. “Steele?”

Another mumbled response, but clearly in her voice.

I brought my hands up across the smooth skin of her neck to her face, where I found the gag. I reached around back and located the knot. I undid it and ripped the thing away.

She gasped. “Oh, sweet mother of the earth, that thing was foul! I could barely breathe, and I… When they brought me here, I was blindfolded and scared, and I couldn’t… I mean, I… I…”

I slid my hands down her arm where I found a heavy cord binding her wrists behind her back. I discovered the knot and, despite my meaty digits, made quick work of it.

The cord fell to the ground. Shay slammed into me, her arms wrapping themselves around my neck.

“Oh, thank the gods, Daggers,” she said. “No. Thank you, I mean. I knew someone would come. I thought so. I hoped so. Quinto or Rodgers, maybe, but you… You…”

Her arms clutched me tight, and her long, lean form pressed against me. The lilac scent of her hair filled my nose. I felt the curve of her breasts underneath her jacket and her warm breath on my cheek. More importantly, I felt
her.
Warm, alive, safe, and in my arms.

I leaned in and kissed her. Her mouth pressed against mine, soft and tender and wet. I tasted her lips. I breathed her breath. I felt her body stiffen and…

She pushed me away.

I felt her hands on my upper arms. “Daggers, I…”

The flood of emotions nearly drowned me. How could I be such a fool? So selfish? So impulsive? The woman had just been kidnapped and imprisoned, for Pete’s sake!

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… I felt your touch, and, and, your smell, and I was so relieved that—”

“Oh, screw it.”

Steele’s body pressed back into mine, and her hands dug into the hair at the back of my head. Her lips locked with my own, but not hesitant this time. Bold and free and welcoming. They parted, ever so slightly, and I embraced them fully.

After a minute of fireworks and party streamers and a band blaring out its finest, happiest tune, I came up for air.

I heard Shay take a deep breath, and I could hear the pounding of her heart—or maybe it was mine.

“Well,” she said. “That just happened.”

“I know. It was
awesome.
You, uh…down for seconds?”

“Slow down there, cowboy,” she said, and I could picture her demure smile that accompanied it. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in some sort of underground dungeon, imprisoned by a ruthless gang of killers who may or may not come by at any moment to finish us off and silence us for good.”

“Yeah, it does kind of put a damper on the mood,” I said. “Then again, I’ve heard some girls are into public exhibitionism. The thrill of being caught really gets them going. I figure this could be a similar sort of thing.”

“Focus,
Daggers,” said Shay. “If you’re here, then I assume you came to spring me loose. So what’re we up against? What’s the plan?”

“Ah, yes, uh…the plan.” I tried to shift my brain from the utterly fantastic amazingness that just happened back to the task at hand. “Well, um…”

“You
do
have a plan, right?”

“Well, yes, of course I do,” I said. “With the Captain’s help, we came up with a way to infiltrate the Wyverns—that’s the gang who kidnapped you—and I figured I’d use my newly gained position among them to figure out where they kept you, then track you down, and save you in gallant fashion.”

“Whoa, hold on,” said Steele. “You planned on infiltrating the, what…Wyverns, was it? And you expected they’d instantly warm to you? How long have I been down here? I thought it was only a few hours.”

“Well, the, uh…plan didn’t involve you at first,” I said. “It’s deviated a bit.”

“You’re losing me, Daggers.”

I sighed. “Okay, here’s the short version. The Captain approached me the night after we found Griggs and asked me to investigate his murder on my own. Why? Because the Captain knew Griggs had once upon a time been involved with the Wyverns—yes, he was dirty, to an extent anyway—and the Captain hoped I might be able to shed light on his murder, either by proving his death had nothing to do with his prior mob connections, thereby clearing the Captain’s conscience and saving him from public scrutiny, or by proving it
was
the Wyverns and at least serving justice to the killer, if none of the former. The Captain connected me with a former Wyvern go-between, and from there all I had to do was prove my worth through a series of challenges, known as the crucible, before I’d be initiated as a rookie Wyvern.”

“Alright…” said Steele slowly. “I think I followed that—although I’m still trying to process it. But how do I fit in?”

“Rodgers and Quinto came by and told me you’d been kidnapped. I told them to tear the warehouse you’d been taken at down to the studs in search of clues to your location. Meanwhile, I’d continue with the last remaining challenge of the crucible in the hopes I could complete it, gain entry into the Wyverns, and ferret out knowledge of your whereabouts using my new status, as I already said. Two different routes, one goal. As you can see, I made it here first.”

“You did it, then?” asked Steele. “You infiltrated the gang that murdered Barrett and Griggs?”

“Uh, well…no,” I said. “Apparently they found out I was a cop. Still trying to figure out how.”

“Hold on,” said Shay. “Are you telling me you’re
imprisoned
here with me?”

“It would appear that way, yes.”

“Daggers!
Are you
kidding
me? So we’re screwed then, aren’t we?”

“Calm down,” I said. “Do you see me flipping out?”

“I don’t see much of anything,” said Steele.

“You know what I mean.”

“Alright,” said Steele. “Enlighten me then. How are we getting out of this mess?”

“Before I came here, I sent a message to Rodgers and Quinto telling them to ditch their backup at the warehouse and meet me en route. They tailed me to the house above. Once they see my Wyvern recruiter, Sebastian Cobb, exit the house alone, they’ll barge in afterwards. They’ll rip this place apart in search of us.”

“Oh.” Shay exhaled. “Well, I suppose that was pretty smart.”

“Thanks for the belated vote of confidence.”

We sat in the pitch dark silence for a moment, and I contemplated if I should go in for another kiss. Seemed like the moment had passed…

“So what happened with the Wyverns, then?” asked Steele. “How’d they make you?”

“I told you, I’m not sure,” I said. “My best guess is they had an informant somewhere I didn’t expect.”

“So what now? I mean, after Quinto and Rodgers arrive.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “We track them down. Find Griggs’ killer and bring him to justice.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

“We’ll combine our knowledge. Your official investigation and my off-the-books one. Surely between the two of us we’ll find parallels. For example, last night I visited that warehouse before you and the guys did. Site of our second crucible challenge. Speaking of which, how
was
your side of the investigation coming along? Any new leads?”

“You mean other than what led us to the shipping container manufacturing plant?” said Steele. “Not a whole lot. And before you ask, my trail of breadcrumbs stops there. I got kidnapped, remember? I didn’t get anything out of that place.”

“Right,” I said. “But that’s Barrett’s side. What about Griggs? You were still cagey about discussing him the last time.”

Shay sighed. “Well, I guess there’s no point dancing around his murder anymore, not if what you said about the Captain is true. But you’ll be disappointed with what I tell you.”

“And that is?”

“Nothing. Griggs has been a total dead end. Rodgers, Quinto, and I turned over every rock we could find, but we couldn’t trace his movements for the last few days. Nothing in his apartment indicated he was up to no good. No prints. No neighbors who saw the intruders. The killers hid their tracks as well as they could’ve.”

My mind drifted back to where it had been in my apartment, when I’d mulled over the details of Griggs’ death and what little I knew about his murder. Unfortunately, it sounded as if my team hadn’t unearthed much else. But there had to be more. There just had to…