Chapter 32

He slumped on the old carpet, his back against the wall. Just one moment, and he’d be gone. But he had to think fast, incorporate the new information that Tish was being watched, here, in this house, at this very moment. In worse danger than he’d ever dreamed.

The two people he loved the most were still in danger—terrible danger. Despite the awful things he’d done to his life to keep them safe.

And soon he himself would be back in the worst servitude possible, even if he managed to arrange Ian and Tish’s freedom somehow, which wasn’t a given. But they were never going to let him go.

Hell. What a mess.

He’d so been looking forward to freedom.

Silly things, really, came to mind. Picking up dry-cleaning. A coffee at a cafe. Rushing into a grocery store before close-time to pick up something. Mundane, ordinary things.

But knowing he was doing whatever he wanted to, in the moment, without being watched. Free. Something he’d always taken for granted before.

Even in damn Delta North he’d felt freer. A big chunk of the time, they’d been under enemy fire, definitely constrained. Yet it had been his choice to serve, to be there, in those exact circumstances. He’d been free.

Once back? He’d become a slave, as was his little brother. Now, he couldn’t wait to be out from under their demands.

Yet, what was worse in all this was the growing cancer on his soul. Being a man he was not. Enforcing ideals he didn’t believe in—worse, loathed.

Doing the drop tonight, concluding his business with the bastards had promised the end of all that. Finally, he would have been done with it all and would have finally bought his freedom, and Ian’s.

A new life. Without them on his back. Being in the driver’s seat again. Righting wrongs.

And with the power of the brotherhood, he’d been promised safety, as far as they could, while he fought back and worked to tear down all the criminal things they’d built.

That had been the sweetest thought of all.

Now it had all gone to hell.

And he only had himself, and the latest algorithm he’d furnished them with, to blame.

He heard movement in the hallway. Probably Tish coming within reach in case he needed her, but too deferential to come in and disturb him.

And he was glad. Grateful.

Some things a man just had to work out for himself. Especially when it came to those he loved. Only—this time there wasn’t a solution. Not a good one, anyway.

The stakes had changed. It was no longer their freedom, but now it was Ian’s life. If he didn’t show and pass over the flash drive, Ian was dead.

And once he got there, if Ian was still alive, there were new challenges.

And if he didn’t show…

The creeps knew where Tish was. Were watching the house at this very moment, and had their kill orders.

And if he didn’t show up to the drop, she was dead.

But worse, the moment he left, they’d see him. They’d break in and do god knew what to her, despite what they’d said.

His worst nightmare. The one he’d left to avoid.

There was no damn answer.

When there’s no answer…we’re the answer.

The mantra came to him, pierced through his brain. It had been said to him at a low period of his life, and at the time, buoyed him, gave him something to hang on to.

He fumbled deep into his pocket, came up with the phone. A dedicated line, a million blocks set up on it already. The only phone he could ever contact the man on.

He punched in the number, held his breath.

“Arc.”

“Hey man, it’s Eli.”

“What’s up?”

Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say. He’d gotten himself into this mess, and now two people were in the line of fire. One had partly brought it on himself, but one was an innocent.

But the man didn’t have time to waste, so he ploughed on. Pushed himself through. His feelings of unworthiness meant nothing right now. Something bigger was at stake.

“Code White.”

He heard the almost inaudible sigh of relief on the other end of the line. Only Arc would consider code white a relief.

He remembered the logbook he’d studied. Situation codes. Code White. Life or death situation. Time delay in play.

Hell.

“Who is it?”

“Ian, and…my ex.”

“Relationship to ex?”

That part was hard to get out because he felt unworthy of her, too aware of the problems him being in her life had given her. But the truth was the truth, and what Arc wanted to know was how involved he was, on an emotional level. He had a scale for that too.

He answered without hesitation. “Love. I’d do anything for her not to suffer. For him, too. Give everything.”

“So she’s not in imminent danger?”

“It’s threatened and imminent.” Yep. What a code white signified. But not to-the-line immediate. “Potentially thirty minutes away. Assailant—the bastards.”

“Their interest?”

“Hurt me. Keep me on board.”

He could practically see Arc nodding on the other end of the line, waited for his assessment.

“I’m in the middle of a code Violet myself now, so I only have twenty seconds left to give you.”

Code Violet? Hell! “Sorry, Man. I’ll get off right away.”

“Ten seconds now. You said you’d give everything for her not to suffer?”

“Yeah.” He was itching to hang up the phone now. Hell. Code Violet.

“Look at doing that. You may have your answer. Check in tomorrow. Over and out.”

And he was gone.

Okay, so he’d talked to Arc on the Arc-only line, and didn’t get time to discuss things. Arc was a master strategist, and truly, he’d hoped he’d have more time with him. A few minutes more, at least.

But sometimes analysis obscured a question.

What had Arc said, really?

Give everything.

Could he do that? Who wanted everything from him?

Not the bastards. They wanted him to keep working for them. They wanted to drain him, but they didn’t want everything.

One man wanted everything, was determined to wrest it from him. Hunt him down like a dog, pound his face into the ground.

Yeah. One person he knew would be pleased to know he was suffering at this very moment. Thrilled.

Masters.

The fly in the ointment he really hadn’t needed on top of everything else. When he’d realized Masters had made him a top priority, it had definitely made things worse.

And life had gotten that much more dangerous. News on the street was Masters was a rogue cop.

And he also wasn’t above tossing ‘scum’ back into the arms of those they’d betrayed, once he’d made stringent deals to the contrary.

Yeah. Add to that the fact Masters had connections and the resources of the law, he was almost scarier than the criminals he sought. Eli had been more concerned with evading him than he’d been with pissing off the bastards. They, at least, were driven purely by momentary self-interest. Masters had a hot, calculated vendetta born out of mission against those he viewed as lawbreakers. Without so-called ethics.

Falling into his hands would be worse than death. Especially if he didn’t like you.

And oh, Masters did not like him.

A thought started to take form in his mind, as he searched for an answer.

Give everything.

What if Masters was the solution to everything? What would he pay, if he was offered everything?

He grabbed his cell. Didn’t think.

It rang twice, then a deep voice. “Yeah.”

He winced at the voice but swept that away quickly. Started in, talked fast. “You’ve got two minutes to decide, then your time’s up. Austin here. I have a problem, and you’re the guy who can solve it.”

Breathing on the other end. Tone flat. “Talk.”

“My brother is Score’s lackey. They’re going to take him out tonight. In half an hour. You’re going to send a team, keep him alive. You know what he looks like.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to do this now. The team is there in twenty minutes max. You do what you want to them, but you let my brother go. Take someone to dress his wounds. Kid won’t go bad again, I’ll vouch for him. You let him go.”

He could sense the flat appraisal on the other end of the line but was thrilled when he didn’t offer any disagreement. “And?”

“He texts me our secret phrase that he’s free, and you’ve taken the others out. I don’t care what you do to them. They deserve your worst.”

“Where are they?”

“The abandoned mine at Shelter’s creek, first leg. Twenty meters in.”

He heard clicking, then Masters returned and spoke. “And then?”

“I text you my location. You come and get me. I’m yours.”

He could hear the hunger in Master’s voice. “And if you give me the wrong location?”

“You grab Ian and do what you want with him too. Hang on to him ’til you got me.”

“Deal.”

One line of tension in him let go, though there was still tons of it he was dealing with. No matter. Masters hadn’t argued. Ian had a shot at living.

Jammy might pull out of this yet.

“One more thing. This is non-neg. When you come get me, there’s a lady here with me. She goes free too.”

“What’s her racket?”

“The oldest one in the book.”

“Hooker?”

“Hell, no. That’s the second oldest. I said the first. Listen, Masters. When she walks, I’m yours. I give you whatever you want to know, and…you do what you want with me.” He swallowed heavily. “But she goes free. Unharmed. We got a deal?”

A pause. “Team dispatched. We’re there in ten. Receive incoming text, on this line. Your brother’s safe phrase. Over and out.” The screen blackened.

Hell. It was done.

And everything was going to change in thirty minutes. Again.

What a hell of a completely damned Christmas Eve. He’d just signed his death warrant.

He collapsed against the wall.

And thought wryly, that Masters wouldn’t know what the hell to make out of Tish Taylor when he met her. He’d said her game was the oldest one in the book, and for once, he’d spoken the absolute truth, with no aberration.

It was.

Love.