Skin Dive (7 page)
Sadly, he didn’t seem to have worked it out, which explained why his brother-in-law wanted Nico dead. Something about being married to his sister, so he’d given Nico a job running numbers and drugs; he was spectacularly bad at both. Now the brother-in-law needed a permanent solution that wouldn’t blow back on him.
Cale forced the man to his knees. Since he had a contract on his head and very little sense in it, he was begging for his life in guttersnipe Italian. Which might have helped his cause if Cale spoke Italian.
Might
have, but unlikely. In general, he didn’t negotiate under such circumstances. Men would promise anything, even if delivering it lay outside their scope. They always thought a change of venue would help, if they could just buy ten more minutes, everything would be different.
Might
have, but unlikely. In general, he didn’t negotiate under such circumstances. Men would promise anything, even if delivering it lay outside their scope. They always thought a change of venue would help, if they could just buy ten more minutes, everything would be different.
Not this time, Nico. End of the road for you.
Dunn didn’t think of himself as a contract killer. He was more of a jack-of-all-trades, a true mercenary. In his nearly two-decade career, he had driven fugitives across international borders, stolen a couple of planes, fought in five private wars, and seen two dictators die. One of them, he had shot himself. So plugging a lowlife didn’t rate very high on his list of things he should never, ever do, even if the man was crying like a widow.
With a faint sigh, he put two slugs in the back of the man’s head, as agreed under the contract. As usual, he wiped the gun, dropped it, and left the mark by the water. Some beachcomber would find him, hopefully before the tide came in. Cale jogged up toward the road and got into his rented Fiat. Everything had proceeded right on schedule. Now he had a plane to catch.
Paris would be nice this time of year. He’d take a little time off, maybe look up Lisette, who had promised to kill him if he ever showed his face again. It would be fun if she tried; that always led to the best anger sex.
Halfway to the airport, his phone rang. It was his dedicated sat-phone, a number only given to former clients, which meant he had worked for this person before, or they were a referral. He answered with a curt, “Dunn.”
“It has work for you.”
Bizarre voice.
He couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female—a little deep for the latter and too light for the former, the most purely androgynous tone he’d ever heard. The verbiage wasn’t quite right, either, but maybe this wasn’t a native speaker. Some smooth, awful thread ran through it, something . . . not quite human, as if it came from a mouth with too many teeth. But surely he was tired—imagining things. A job was a job.
He couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female—a little deep for the latter and too light for the former, the most purely androgynous tone he’d ever heard. The verbiage wasn’t quite right, either, but maybe this wasn’t a native speaker. Some smooth, awful thread ran through it, something . . . not quite human, as if it came from a mouth with too many teeth. But surely he was tired—imagining things. A job was a job.
“Lay it out for me.”
“It desires two fugitives remanded to its custody.”
Cale hesitated. “I take it you don’t work in law enforcement?” “It does not. This contract would prove lucrative.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Yes.”
A thrill of interest surged through him. It had been a long time since he had a worthy hunt. Most of his targets were stupid and predictable. They ate, fucked, and slept in the same patterns, so it was child’s play to snatch them. He could use a challenge.
“I’ll need a full dossier on each of them, last known location, and half a million dollars.” He always started high. Any employer would be prepared for that, and haggling was fun. But within five minutes, this creepy fuck should come to an agreement if he or she was serious.
Instead, the voice said, “Half now, half when the job is completed.”
Holy—
All of his alarm bells went off. When the other party showed no interest in negotiation, it meant the task was so difficult as to be impossible—that, or they wanted it accomplished beyond any rational reason. It whispered of obsession, which was never good in his line of work. Business was business, and it was best not to chase it with a crazy cocktail.
“How did you get this number?”
“The hunter worked for Gerard Serrano, yes?”
“Once,” he admitted.
The bastard was dead now, and good riddance. He’d tried to cheat Cale out of his bonus for completing the job within the ten-day deadline. Regardless, Serrano had all kinds of shady connections, so there was no telling who might be on the other end of the line. His silence must have communicated some misgiving.
“It represents a consortium called the Foundation, which funds scientific research. Serrano was one of the initial members.”
That sounded particularly spooky; scientific research covered a lot of ground, but the money was too good to pass up, just the job he’d been looking for in order to top off his nest egg and get out of the game entirely.
Cale swallowed his qualms and said, “You have a deal. Send me the paperwork.”
“Excellent. Tickets to New York wait at the airport. One of its people will be at LaGuardia with everything needed to complete the task.”
Damn. They were fucking sure of me, weren’t they?
That made him uneasy, too.
Focus on the money, mate. It’s keen and green, and soon you’ll be done with this shit for good.
That made him uneasy, too.
Focus on the money, mate. It’s keen and green, and soon you’ll be done with this shit for good.
Puerto Vallarta was
gorgeous this time of year. Some people preferred Cancun, but Tanager didn’t like the tourist influence. She thought it was more like an American colony than a true reflection of Mexico. PV still had the feel of a quaint beach town, where she could stroll along the
malecon
and pretend she had nowhere else to be. There were also gorgeous resorts here at reasonable prices, private beaches, plus fabulous service. Not that she ever paid for anything. All she had to do was walk in the door, ask to speak to the manager, and then say,
You want to comp your best suite, an all-inclusive package.
Her siren voice did the rest. Though it only worked on men, there were enough males in the world that she always got what she wanted.
gorgeous this time of year. Some people preferred Cancun, but Tanager didn’t like the tourist influence. She thought it was more like an American colony than a true reflection of Mexico. PV still had the feel of a quaint beach town, where she could stroll along the
malecon
and pretend she had nowhere else to be. There were also gorgeous resorts here at reasonable prices, private beaches, plus fabulous service. Not that she ever paid for anything. All she had to do was walk in the door, ask to speak to the manager, and then say,
You want to comp your best suite, an all-inclusive package.
Her siren voice did the rest. Though it only worked on men, there were enough males in the world that she always got what she wanted.
Which was why she found Mockingbird’s resistance intriguing. Maybe it was the electronic interference on the line, but she had never been able to get him to do anything he didn’t want to. That didn’t stop her from trying. Everyone needed a hobby.
“Come on,” Tanager said. “You know what you want to tell me.”
She was the only one who got away with teasing Mockingbird. Lying in the chaise lounge with her feet crossed at the ankles, she sipped at her foamy piña colada. The umbrella kept the sun off her fair skin, but the warmth was welcome, and this vacation was long overdue.
“I’m not telling you my name,” he said, sighing. “Not yet. But I will tell you this much now . . . I used to have another handle. People knew me as Apex.”
“Huh.” It was more concession than she’d expected, though it still didn’t tell her much. But she might be able to do some digging and turn up some information. Most likely, she would choose not to, however. If she found out, it could cost everyone else down the line. It sucked that they lived in a world that demanded such caution, but it was what the Foundation had made it.
“Does that make you feel better, like we’ve formed an indisputable bond?”
“Haven’t we?” she asked, her tone serious for once.
Funny, but Mockingbird knew her better than anyone else. He had been the one to save her, when everything went so disastrously wrong, after—well.
After
. She had known him for years, longer than any other agent; Tanager had been with him since before he realized their organization had to grow inexpressibly more paranoid and complex if people like them weren’t all going to wind up in Foundation prison cells. She called damn few people friend, but he fit the bill.
After
. She had known him for years, longer than any other agent; Tanager had been with him since before he realized their organization had to grow inexpressibly more paranoid and complex if people like them weren’t all going to wind up in Foundation prison cells. She called damn few people friend, but he fit the bill.
An awkward silence followed. Sometimes she wished she could fucking find him and see what he looked like, the guy who seemed like he never slept, never stopped fighting the good fight. Only through his diligence did all the balls stay in the air, and God only knew what would become of everyone else if anything ever happened to Mocks.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “You’ve been with me almost as long as Shrike, and you still haven’t quit on me.”
Shrike was an interesting case. He had executed some of the bloodiest revenge that their organization had ever seen, but in the end, he just walked away. Last they heard, he was operating independently, solving problems that didn’t fit easily into any jurisdiction.
“I won’t either. Can you see me giving up all this?”
He laughed. “Not really. Anyway, the reason I pinged you is twofold. First, I have news about the Exeter facility. I have confirmation . . . five subjects made it out alive. I already rescued a couple of them, but they weren’t interested in signing on right then.”
“Give them time. Once they see how hard life is for people like us without a little help, they’ll take the recruitment package.”
“I think so, too. I don’t care as much about the healer, but we could use another warrior.”
“Careful. You’ll make me feel unwanted.”
“Not my intention.”
“So what’s the second part?”
“I’ve been thinking about this, ever since Kestrel was taken. We used her before we discovered the tungsten-blocking properties . . . and she found a lot of test subjects for us.”
“Made recruitment a dream,” she agreed.
“So how did
they
find her? They didn’t have anyone who could pinpoint locations like that. I’ve thought all along it couldn’t be coincidence, and now I’m sure. Someone sold her out.”
they
find her? They didn’t have anyone who could pinpoint locations like that. I’ve thought all along it couldn’t be coincidence, and now I’m sure. Someone sold her out.”
Fuck.
“Have you looked at everyone’s financials?” Tanager sighed and shook her head. “Never mind, I know. Most don’t even have their own bank accounts, just cards you gave them.”
“Yep. All the money flows through me. Doesn’t mean somebody didn’t take a briefcase full of cash, though, and I have no way of tracking that. The Foundation makes payments all the time. Needle in a haystack, even for me.”
“So what’s my part in this?”
He outlined it for her.
“Really? Shadow detail?” She sighed in frustration. “I’m the last person who should do this. I draw attention. I
thrive
on attention.”
thrive
on attention.”
“Tan,” he said quietly. “You’re the only one I trust. Everyone else is too new. I can’t tip my hand . . . I can’t let them know I’m not the all-powerful Oz—that I am, in fact, just the little man behind the curtain.”
What must it be like for him? He had nobody in whom he could confide.
Well, except me. And I’m not exactly the most reliable person in the world.
Well, except me. And I’m not exactly the most reliable person in the world.
“So you want me to plug our leak. Am I permitted to use force?”
“As a last resort, if you can’t stop it any other way.”
“Cool,” she said, sliding off the deck chair. “I was about ready for some action anyway.”
CHAPTER 5PRESENT DAY DETROIT
Shapes loomed up
from the darkness. Fearlessly, Gillie stepped forward. The metal door slammed behind her as she stepped fully through the employee’s entrance, trash in hand.
from the darkness. Fearlessly, Gillie stepped forward. The metal door slammed behind her as she stepped fully through the employee’s entrance, trash in hand.
In the distant, half-light thrown by the streetlamp, the Dumpster became a young dragon crouched against the crumbling brick façade of the bar where she worked. She could almost discern the scales in the flecks of rust where the paint had peeled away. She approached the dragon armed with nothing but a thin black plastic sack full of rubbish. With a fierce scowl, she wound up and slung the mess down the beast’s gullet and pacified it for another day.
“You’re welcome,” she said to the dark and oblivious city.
That imagination had seen her through unbelievable horror. Sometimes she still found it hard to sleep at night. Hard to believe she was finally safe, or at least, more so than she had been. For someone like her, safety came in degrees ranging from
out of harm’s way for the moment
to
about to die.
And sometimes her mind played tricks on her, making her think something terrible was about to happen, because it always, always did.
out of harm’s way for the moment
to
about to die.
And sometimes her mind played tricks on her, making her think something terrible was about to happen, because it always, always did.
But she wasn’t imagining the light crunch of footsteps over broken glass.
“You shouldn’t have to do this.” The quiet voice didn’t surprise her.
When Gillie turned, she found Taye propped up against the opposite wall, a steakhouse that had long since gone out of business. Now it had grates across the windows and people still managed to break the glass. God knew, the bar was headed that way, but over these months, Mick had been good to her. Weird as it might seem, she didn’t mind her job.
“You’re wrong,” she said. “This is what real people do.”
She wasn’t interested in replaying the conversation wherein he offered to get her enough money to set her up for life, though his ability hurt him and it meant the difference between freedom and capture. It was possible he was just working too hard, but Taye looked more haggard all the time, as though the electricity had sapped the life right out of him. In recent months, his outlook had darkened, too, so bleak and grim that most days, it was a fucking miracle if she could make him smile. She’d taken to memorizing dirty jokes that she overheard in the kitchen in the hope she could take him by surprise and banish the sorrow for a little while.
Plus, she wasn’t interested in letting him steal for her. She wanted to work; Taye didn’t understand that. He thought she should be ready for a life of leisure after her long incarceration, ready to bask in the sun and sip margaritas. Unfortunately, the easy road wasn’t the best way, and deep down, he knew that. He just hated seeing her with her hands raw from scrubbing, and the guilt of feeling like he should do better for her made him surly.
Frost lay lightly on the ground, adding a crystalline layer to the grit-covered pavement. Snow touched his hair and melted immediately, as if he generated heat in each unruly strand. It was too long in front, and it hung in his eyes, lending him a roguish air. But that buccaneer swagger was deceptive; he wasn’t playful. Like the electricity he commanded, he could turn deadly in a flicker.
By now, she should have gotten over the lightning that careened in her veins just from looking at him. He wasn’t shiny and new anymore. They’d had months to get used to one another, and more than once, she’d flung a dish and screamed at him. More than once, he’d slammed out of the apartment as if he couldn’t stand her proximity for another minute.
But he always came back, and she always swept up the glass shards of what she broke. Their extra-special brand of dysfunction wouldn’t work with anyone else.
At their first meeting, Taye had frightened her. She’d believed him a punishment from Rowan or a herald of worse things to come. But shortly, she’d realized he was a reward for everything she’d endured. Or maybe, she’d thought recently, she just
wanted
him to be. Taye had other ideas.
wanted
him to be. Taye had other ideas.
“We’re not meant to be like them.” He pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her, all loose-limbed grace.
“I want to be. I’ve never done any of this. Maybe to anyone else, my life might seem awful or pathetic, but . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
He had seen the truth. Taye knew where she came from—and it was why he escorted her to and from work every night. He’d gotten it into his head that she needed protecting, that she was too fragile for the world. Like so many men, he saw only the fair, almost translucent skin, red curls, and big blue eyes. He assumed her appearance meant she couldn’t take care of herself—that the apparent physical fragility ran bone deep. But one couldn’t survive what she had and remain emotionally vulnerable. Inside, where it counted, she had a steel core.
“There’s nothing pitiful about you,” he said softly. “Come on. Let’s get home.”
For a while, after that possessive kiss at McGinty’s, she’d tried to get him to take that final step past friendship and into intimacy, but he wouldn’t budge. He maintained a hands-off policy where she was concerned. Which Gillie thought was ridiculous. She was nearly twenty-five years old, and no man inspired by normal desire or affection had ever touched her. Rowan’s real doll obsession with her did not bear close scrutiny. From what she’d observed, Taye’s need to protect her fought constantly with his desire to keep his distance.
Though she knew he hated casual contact, Gillie curled her hand around his arm anyway, as though they were a normal couple. Did boyfriends pick their girlfriends up after work? She suspected they did in this part of town, if they gave a shit.
He glanced down at her fingers, pale against the dark leather of his jacket. The duster suited his rangy build. With it, he always wore jeans, plain white Tshirts, and motorcycle boots. Gillie had wondered if that style was left over from the person he was before, the one he could only remember in bits and pieces.
That lack of memory tormented him. While she lay in their chaste bed, listening to him breathe, she’d also heard fragments of his nightmares. At base, Taye felt like an incomplete person, a man blessed with abilities instead of memories. He did not know who he was—or what he’d done—only what he could do.
After a long hesitation, he didn’t pull away; he let the small incursion against his defenses stand. And then he set off toward the main street, matching his strides to hers. That instinctive courtesy made her think he couldn’t have been as bad a man as he feared, before the Foundation broke him and remade him in their image. He was only certain he’d been homeless, crazy from the first vaccine. It hurt her to envision what he’d suffered, even before the evil of those subsequent secret experiments. But it also let her understand him. Pain had forged him into a protector, but it had left him emotionally wrecked. He feared he had nothing to give.
Because she couldn’t give up on him—couldn’t let him slide in silence—she said, “I made cookies today while you were at work.”
It was an invitation for him to stay up with her for a while and talk about his day. It also served as a quiet reminder of what they shared, and a statement that nobody would ever understand like she did. By the wry quirk of his well-molded mouth, he knew her intention; you didn’t get that kind of subtext with just anybody. Taye thought she only wanted him because he was the first person who had been kind since the Foundation took her from her parents. He thought she lacked any frame of reference to make an educated sexual decision.
Gillie found that insulting. There were guys at McGinty’s, kitchen help and the occasional patron, who had offered to take her home. She didn’t want any of them. Eight months later, she still wanted Taye, but he said the dregs of society didn’t count. Some days,
he
was the reason she threw things. Him, and his fucking stubbornness.
he
was the reason she threw things. Him, and his fucking stubbornness.
Yet he didn’t demure or mutter an excuse about how he needed to go straight to bed. She’d learned early on that he had a sweet tooth, so she angled a hopeful look at him.
“What kind?”
Maybe she ought to mind that her company wasn’t enough. But she’d take whatever she could get with him, as he wanted to cut and run. Only a confounded sense of obligation had kept him hanging around this long. And that, she did
not
want from him.
not
want from him.
But time was running out. Soon, they would have enough for the ID package, and they’d go their separate ways. The idea filled her with despair.
“Gingersnaps.”
He sighed. “You do this on purpose, tempting me in the middle of the night.”
“Of course.” There was no point denying it.
They turned the corner onto their street. The studio he’d found for such cheap rent was in a terrible brownstone that smelled of mildew and urine. Around here, there were mostly closed businesses and buildings that had been condemned and taken over by squatters. Graffiti streaked the brick and cement; steel grates covered windows and doors.
“We need to talk,” he conceded. “And cookies will make the bad news go down easier. But Gillie, sweetheart, you have to resign yourself to the fact I won’t be around forever. I can’t play house like you want me to.”
Her pleasure at the endearment twanged with a sour note, swelling into astonishing pain. “I have. I know you won’t stay.”
She let go of his arm then and hurried up the walk, stepping over broken green glass that glimmered like pirate emeralds. His footsteps came on, slower but steady and sure behind her. He would be watching the street, looking for the Foundation trackers. The two of them were too valuable for their tormentors to yield pursuit without another attempt at recovery.
When she pushed open the front door, she found a man asleep in the foyer. Likely homeless, but this wasn’t the sort of place where anyone would run him out. Just as well; it was cold outside, cold enough to see her breath even inside the doors. Taye paused, and she knew what he was thinking:
Am I this guy? And did anyone give a fuck?
Am I this guy? And did anyone give a fuck?
In silence, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bills. The overhead light guttered, making it impossible for her to see their denomination. He crossed the cracked blackand-white vinyl floor to tuck the money into the man’s breast pocket. Closer, the smell of cheap liquor wafted from him. It was impossible to tell the man’s age, but Taye himself seemed older when he turned toward the stairs, following her up to the first landing.
Gillie jogged up the flights without speaking, and then unlocked the door. It was a humble studio, smaller than the place where Rowan had held her hostage. But it was theirs.
After this, she wanted to go to college. She wanted . . . everything. But she wasn’t likely to get a happy ending, not the one with a picket fence and the man of her dreams. Taye said she hadn’t met enough men to make up her mind anyway.
And these days, she would settle for freedom.
While Taye prowled the place, checking the few dark corners where an intruder might hide, she pulled her chipped, misshapen cookie jar from the top of the ancient refrigerator. Feline in shape, the thing also had one deformed ear, giving it a tomcat look. When she removed the ceramic lid, dual scents of sugar and spice wafted from the container. Switching focus with predatory grace, Taye wrapped up his search and came to sit warily on the couch.
Gillie poured milk into plastic tumblers and put some cookies on a plate. Taye eyed them with endearing hunger, as if they nourished some need in him much deeper than the ingredients would suggest.
“Here you go.”
He took one for each hand, ignoring the milk, and ate them before leveling a contemplative gaze on her. His irises gleamed the vibrant blue green of tropical waters. Some might name them turquoise or aquamarine, but those words seemed flat compared to the beauty of Taye’s eyes, fringed with dark lashes, bleached lighter at the tips. He was tan now from his work on the docks; his lean jaw bristled with stubble, and it held a ruddy hue, slightly redder than his chestnut hair.
“I guess you know there’s a reason I’m not going to bed.”
She nodded. Though her baking had improved, it still wasn’t irresistible. In all these months, she’d never learned what it would take to breach his walls. Maybe she didn’t have the key, and one day he’d decide she could stand on her own two feet. That day, he would leave her.
“They’re hunting us. I heard from Mockingbird . . . He tapped their network again and saw the new retrieval orders.”
Cold, spiked horror spilled through her. As she recalled, Mockingbird was a counteragent, working against the Foundation. He wanted to recruit Taye to join his mutant army. Gillie had never spoken to him, but the first time he called, Taye had told him to leave them both alone. It couldn’t be good they were hearing from him now.
A hard knot formed in her chest. Dammit, she didn’t want to spend her life running. It didn’t seem like too much to ask that she could just do normal things like pay bills and go to work at a job nobody else wanted. Quiet dreams—and perhaps impossible ones, as well. She forced herself to consider the problem rationally, setting aside her visceral emotional response.
“How long do we have?”
He didn’t seem panicked, which led her to believe the Foundation team must not be local.
If they have to factor travel time, given Mockingbird’s early warning, we can be long gone before they get here.
If they have to factor travel time, given Mockingbird’s early warning, we can be long gone before they get here.
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