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Authors: Crystal Jordan

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BOOK: Unleashed
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The line of his thoughts was appallingly idealistic, which wasn't like him at all. He knew the world was a mean, dirty place. He'd spent enough years in the gutter cleaning up the trash in the world to know. The one person he knew he could trust was himself and his instincts. His instincts said his mates were
his,
and he took care of what was his. That was what mating meant to him.
“After my father died, I watched my mother just . . . fade away. She lost touch with reality, stopped caring about anything, especially me. All I became was a painful reminder of what she'd lost.” Her shoulder brushed against his when she shrugged. “His death ate at her until there was nothing left. And then she went, too. Gratefully, I think.”
The pain in her tone made him ache. It had been such a long time since he'd bothered with sympathy for another person that he shied away from it, asking another question instead. “How old were you when they died?”
“Fifteen when my father kicked, and sixteen when my mother followed him.” She leaned her head against the seatback, looking tired.
He rubbed a hand up and down her thigh, hoping it was comforting, but what the hell did he know about comforting anyone? Genuine comfort and not some manipulation he was using for the sake of a mission? Not a damn thing. “So you were still a minor. How did you get by? Did someone take you in? A relative?”
“No relatives.” She rolled her head on the seat to look at him. “Any family they had died before I was even born. And his wife certainly wasn't going to help me.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Did she know about you?”
“Yes, but acknowledging that wouldn't be keeping up appearances for their friends.” She assumed a haughty expression, staring down her nose at him.
“How did you get by?” he repeated, ignoring her attempt at humor. Another person he'd like to hunt down for being a selfish ass and abandoning a young girl in the name of their own interests. Irresponsible. There were a lot of people like that in the world, but he hated to see the scars it had left on a woman who was coming to mean far too much to him, far too quickly. He couldn't help it. He wasn't even sure he wanted to.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I got a job working in the office at Prime Investigations. My boss taught me everything I know about PI work.”
“So someone did look after you.” The statement was aimed at Gea, but he kept an eye on the old woman as she stumped off the transport at the next stop.
“Don't make it prettier than it was. Mickey was nobody's role model.” Gea huffed out a short laugh. “He wasn't a good man, let alone a kind or loving one. He needed someone to look after the office work, and he could tell I was desperate and would do anything he wanted while he paid me next to nothing and worked me like a slave. But I paid attention and I learned the ropes, so when he got too old to do the fieldwork, I took over and he handled the office. After he died, I kept his clients.”
Kienan angled a glance at her, let his incredulity seep into his tone. “He left his business to you?”
“More like he had no heirs to care that I just took it over and made it mine.” She gave him a little salute. “Prime Investigations, at your service.”
He gestured as they pulled into the last stop. “This is where we get off?”
This was as close to the Vermilion as most normal people ever wanted to get, which wasn't all that close. They had quite a walk ahead of them.
She nodded and rose to disembark. “So, we talked about me. What's your story, Vaughn? You owe me.”
As they walked, he told her. Anything she wanted to know that wasn't classified intel. A week ago, it would have been inconceivable to him to reveal anything real or personal, but he'd told her the truth—he was tired of the lies. It was a risk, exposing himself to her and to Quill, but he figured if he was going to take the chance with anyone, it should be his mates. All he could do was hope they didn't use the information to damage him later.
Hope. Not an emotion he had any experience with, but the last week had been so far outside his comfort zone that he was in foreign territory. He'd have to play it by ear and brace himself for the worst, knowing it was always an option. With as skittish as his mates were, it wasn't even an unlikely option. Still, he had to try.
The demarcation to the Vermilion was a subtle decay into filth and poverty. Skyrises gave way to multiplexes, which degraded in cleanliness and quality until they hit the shanty towns that marked the east side of the crime-ridden district. The deeper into the quagmire they went, the more eyes he felt on them, watching for weakness, debating whether to attack.
His battle instincts sharpened the way they always did on an assignment, his awareness expanding, every detail of his surroundings seeping into his consciousness. But this was different. Then, he'd been a tool, a weapon to be aimed and fired. This time, the mission was of his choosing. He answered to no one except himself. And Gea. He doubted she'd appreciate being left out of that equation.
No one told him to do this. He did it because he wanted to, because he'd decided it was the best course of action. It was liberating. He'd chosen to follow orders before, but that wasn't the same as being the master of his own fate. He wasn't sure he agreed with Quill's need to control everything, but there was something to having a bit more say in where he went and when.
He liked it.
Tucking those thoughts away as something to consider later, he focused on the task at hand—helping his mate dig up information. He'd done this before, just under different circumstances. An ironic smile touched his lips. It had been decades since he'd needed to prove himself to anyone, but he felt the need to impress her, to make her believe there was one part of her life where she could trust him, where there was nothing to fear.
Perhaps that one area would bleed over into other areas.
She nodded to a derelict building across the road from where they stood. “This is the place. You can wait out here, if you want.”
“And spend the time being propositioned because people think only jades hang out on street corners in this district?” Or maybe he'd be attacked by friendly locals like Niso and his thugs. It was a toss-up which sounded less appealing.
“You'd be worth every cred.” She slapped his ass before she darted to the other side of the street.
Chuckling, he followed a step behind her, but his longer stride caught up to her before they reached the entryway. She tapped a vidpad with a wavy screen by the door. He smoothed his face to impassivity, waiting for her cues to see if she needed him to play good cop or bad cop.
“Who's that?” A man's voice growled from the vidpad, though no image appeared. The accent was thick—German, Kienan thought—but there was too much static crackling to tell which country the man hailed from.
“Ison sent me,” Gea replied cryptically. “He said you'd have what I'm looking for.”
The door creaked open, rust making the ancient iron squeal. Kienan scanned the area to see if anyone was taking too much interest in their actions. No.
A large man appeared on the threshold, his dark hair slicked back, his eyebrows growing into a single line across his forehead. Beyond him, the interior of the building was far too plush for this area of town. Whatever the man dealt in was lucrative.
“What you want to buy?” The man's face was flushed, as if he'd had a few too many synthbrews, his heavy jowls weighing down his heavier features.
“Are you Meier?” Gea's nostrils flared at that same time the stench of alcohol hit Kienan.
The big guy arched his unibrow at her. “Depends on who wants to know.”
“Your new best friends, Meier.” Kienan figured this might go faster if he made their recalcitrant German think Gea was the reasonable one. He lounged against the entry as if he hadn't a care in the world, offering up his most charming smile. “How are you this fine evening? Mind if we come in and chat awhile, friend?”
“No.” Annoyance crossed Meier's features. “Crazy fool. Who are you and what do you want?”
“I'm Gea Crevan. I'm not looking for your normal merchandise.” Gea rushed into speech. “I want to buy information.”
Suspicion flashed in his gaze. “What information?”
“I'm looking for a woman named Tam.” She held up her palmtop to show an image of the dark-haired female. “Do you know her?”
“
Ja,
I know her,” Meier barked. “Why? She owe you money?”
“Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't.” Kienan made his smile more ingratiating, which seemed to irritate Meier further. Distract and confuse, then hopefully Gea gets her answers.
She cast him a disbelieving glance but focused on the German. “When was the last time you saw her?”
He grunted, his gaze narrowing. “Why do you care?”
“Please, it's not like the brigade is going to come breaking down your door for making time with a grifter. We're just looking for the lady.” Kienan waggled his eyebrows but gave a quick glance over his shoulder to check the street. Empty. He met Meier's gaze and winked. “She's a prime piece. Wouldn't mind bending her over.”
The German looked between Gea and Kienan, confusion contorting his face.
Gea jumped in. “Look, I don't care why you were talking to her, or how legal or not legal your business with her was. I just need to know where she went after. Do you know?”
The hinges on the door squeaked as Meier started to swing it shut, but Kienan held up a mercurite chip that gleamed in the fading sunlight. He winked at the German when he froze, staring at the chip. “There's enough creds on here to make it worth your while. Try to remember, friend.”
He licked his lips, considering. “
Ja,
I know. She went wiz a man.”
“Do you know him?” Gea pressed. “Can you describe him?”
“English, like her. Dark hair, like her. But older. Skinny. Smelled like a rodent.” His chin jutted. “Don't know her man's name. Don't want to know it.”
Kienan flipped the chip at him and he caught it, moving faster than a man of his bulk should be able to. Gea pushed a holopic into his hand as well. “My card. Call me if you hear any more about where Tam might be.”
“You leave me to my bizness now.” He grunted, slamming the door in their faces.
Kienan straightened from his nonchalant slouch. “Nice guy.”
“He was somewhat helpful at least.” Gea shrugged and turned to face him. “But what was that,
friend?
You just feeling sassy and a little chatty today?”
He
had
talked more in the last week than he had in years, but how else was he supposed to make this mating thing happen? Not that he knew shit about what a good mating was like, but he'd give it his best shot. Shrugging, he lifted his hands. “Just making sure Meier wanted us gone, and that he wasn't thinking too long or too deeply about whether or not he really
wanted
to answer your questions.”
She chuckled, shook her head. “I figured you'd just stand back and be a silent, scary enforcer type.”
“I can do that, too. I didn't think it was the best approach here.”
“Apparently.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “But thanks, that went about as well as it was going to. I'll repay you the creds you gave him.”
He was going to protest that, but something wavered at the edges of his senses. Danger lurked. Not unusual in this district, but this was aimed at them. He glanced around and saw a group of four people at the end of the street coming toward them a little too casually. “We have company.”
Gea's nostrils flared; then her expression tightened. “Aw, shit.”
“Friends of yours?” He glanced between her and the approaching trouble.
“Not exactly.” She pulled in another breath. “But by the reptilian stench of him, the one on the left is the Komodo dragon-shifter who jacked up my leg the other day.”
“Want me to kill him?” He was only partially joking, his muscles tensing with the need to defend his mate.
She hummed in her throat, shook her head, and started down the cracked and crumbling sidewalk in the opposite direction. “Broken bones can be explained to the police. Concussions. Bruises. Dead bodies? Not so much. And I'd rather stay on their good side.”
“You like the police?” He kept pace with her but didn't touch her, keeping his hands free in case of attack.
She shrugged and picked up speed until she was not-quite-jogging. “I scratch their back, they scratch mine. It's business.”
“Ah.” Then he sighed. “Ah, shit.”
A trio of men turned the corner, blocking their exit. Men he recognized.
She glanced back at him, pulling to a stop. “Friends of
yours?
”
BOOK: Unleashed
7.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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