Skin Deep (19 page)

“We’re not examining you, Jono. We’re talking,” said Laura.

“Interrogating,” he said.

“Fine. Call it that. But you have to understand the position this puts us in—puts me in. Lives would be at risk if people knew what I do.”

“My life feels at risk right now,” he said.

We can’t let him go,
Terryn sent.

There has to be another way,
she sent back.

“Who are you working for?” Terryn asked.

Sinclair shook his head. “I’m done. I told you about the medallion because you would have found it anyway. We’re even. You keep your mouths shut. I’ll do the same.”

“Why should we trust you?” Terryn asked.

He shrugged. “Why should I trust you?”

They stared at each other across the table. A pit formed in Laura’s stomach. This is what she had always feared would happen to her someday, glamours removed, trapped in a room, and interrogated. When that day came, she would pay the price for years of lies and betrayal.

“We have more to lose than you do,” said Terryn.

Sinclair snorted. “Sure. My life’s not worth much, right?”

Laura glared. “That’s not what he meant. If we expose you, you can disappear and start over. If you expose me, I might manage to stay alive, but there will be political ramifications. You’ll probably become a target, too. There will be angry people who will blame you and be a lot more relentless in looking for you than anyone you’ll have to deal with if we expose you.”

“Now that’s a subtle threat,” he said.

Laura shrugged. “Those are the facts, Sinclair. I’m not happy you’re in this position either. I wish I had never met you. But I have to tell you, if you expose me, I will not stand in the way of anyone who wants to kill you. I might even help.”

He smiled. “Does this mean you’ll say no if I ask you to dinner?”

Terryn raised an eyebrow.
Cheeky.

“Your lack of seriousness isn’t helping you,” Laura said.

Sinclair leaned back in his chair. “I don’t for one minute believe you will let me walk out of here alive. Excuse me if I don’t beg for my life. It’s not my style.”

“You said someone tried to run you off the road, Sinclair. I’ve had two attacks on my life the last three days. What makes you think you’ll have a better chance outside than in here?” she asked.

He smiled. “I don’t.”

She stared at him. “Did you try to kill me?”

“No,” he said. No hesitation. Firm voice. No fluctuation in his essence. Truth. She sensed truth.

“Who do you think did?”

“Gianni.”

“That’s one possibility,” she said. “So we both suspect the same person. I think we can help each other.”

“What do you propose?” he asked.

Laura refused to look at Terryn. “How would you like a new job?”

“What kind of job?” Sinclair asked.

I think we should discuss this,
Terryn sent.

Later,
Laura replied.

As Sinclair shifted his gaze between them, she wondered if he had another aberrant ability and could eavesdrop on sendings, something no fey could do. She formed as lascivious an image in her mind as she could, but he didn’t react. However good Sinclair was at keeping his composure, she doubted he would have had no reaction at all.

“What you do now: investigations. InterSec could use a human staffer,” she said.

“Under what legal authority?” he asked.

“InterSec’s. We’re governed by treaty and agreement with the U.S. government,” Terryn said.

“What if I don’t want to do what you want me to do?”

Laura shrugged. “Quit.”

“What if I quit right now?”

Laura frowned. “Cute.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

“Trust, Jono. We need to trust each other, and we need to get out of this mess,” Laura said.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked.

“Protection. You’ll need it. The pay’s pretty good, too,” she said.

Am I going to have any say in this?
Terryn sent.

Laura ignored him.

“I don’t know. I’ve got a pretty good career going,” Sinclair said.

“Which will likely be cut short by your death in the next few days,” said Terryn.

Thanks for joining the party,
Laura sent him.

Terryn’s comment took the cockiness out of Sinclair. He leaned on his forearms and stared at his hands. “I won’t kill anyone.”

“No more than you’re asked to now,” Laura said.

“What’s in it for you?” he asked.

“Protection as well. We watch your back; you watch ours. I think we can trust each other,” Laura said.

“What if we can’t?”

She shrugged again. “It’s simple. One of us dies.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, simple.”

Terryn leaned forward. “Let’s make this provisional. We make it through the current situation, then decide whether you stay or not.”

Sinclair slowly shook his head while he considered. “But I don’t get a choice until then, right?”

Terryn didn’t crack a smile. “Who said the choice would be yours then either?”

Sinclair’s eyes shifted back and forth, not looking at them or anything else. Laura watched him closely. She remembered how calm he was when she first met him. The stress flowing off him now was understandable, but beneath it was a strong focus. He weighed his options and tilted back in his chair. “When do I start?”

Laura released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Now.”

CHAPTER 17

“I DON’T LIKE
this,” said Terryn.

Sinclair remained locked in the basement. When Cress arrived, she went down to tend his bruised ribs. Laura leaned against the counter in the kitchen. “We don’t have a choice, Terryn. I’m exposed.”

“We don’t know if we can trust him.”

She crossed her arms loosely and stared at her feet. “He could have let me get killed tonight.”

“Or he could be lying to gain our confidence,” Terryn said.

She arched an annoyed brow at him. “Ahem. Are you questioning my ability to sense truth?”

She thought she detected embarrassment. Actual embarrassment from Terryn macCullen. “I didn’t mean that. I’m worried.”

“I’ve been sensing only the truth from him,” she said.

Terryn nodded. “I don’t dispute that. But he was also able to hide his fey nature from you. We don’t know if he can hide lies from you.”

She shook her head. “We’ve never disclosed my truth-sensing ability, Terryn. Every arrest or report we’ve ever made, we’ve used independent verification. No one knows about it. Sinclair wouldn’t know to hide from it.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” he said.

She stared at him. “Terryn, if I can’t be sure of that, then we have a bigger problem. Our agreement was that you and Cress would never tell anyone about my truth-sensing, not even Maeve herself, unless I agreed. Is there something you need to tell me?”

Again, embarrassment rolled off him. “No, we’ve never told. I’ll trust you on this.”

She ran water into a glass and watched him as she sipped. “This isn’t like you, Terryn. You’re never this unsettled. What’s wrong?”

He closed down his emotions. It was a natural reaction, Laura supposed. He knew she could read him. She wondered what it must be like for him to have two people he couldn’t lie to. She could sense lies in his tone, and Cress could feel them in the core of his essence. Laura could not fathom what it was like to have not one, but two people know him that intimately. It had been years since she allowed someone that privilege.

He closed the door to the basement, a move that surprised Laura. Terryn hid nothing from Cress as far as she knew. “Like I said, I don’t like this. You’ve had persona conflicts before, but never this many connecting to the same case and never with Laura Blackstone involved. I’m worried things could slide out of control.”

She swallowed water. The true reason her personas were tangled was her poor decision to create Janice. Janice Crawford wouldn’t have happened if Laura Blackstone hadn’t been involved with Foyle through Hornbeck’s office. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

She rubbed at the tense muscles in her neck. “I read the Alfrey file. He’s dredging up a lot of bad memories, isn’t he?”

Terryn glanced at the basement door again. “I know I can’t lie to you, Laura, so, yes. The Alfrey clan has always been a problem for my family. I don’t think this investigation is about me, but I’m concerned about where it can lead.”

Laura frowned. “Are you afraid it might lead to Ireland?”

He shrugged, a long, languid gesture for him that sent his wings rippling. “ ‘Afraid’ isn’t the word. My sister has things well in hand leading the macCullens. It’s the larger issue. I walked away from Danann and Inverni politics because it never ends, but I’m wondering if Simon Alfrey’s appearance is a sign that I made a mistake.”

“How would your being in Ireland have made a difference?” she asked.

He frowned. “I don’t know. But I do know that I would have a clearer sense of the nuances of what is happening with Alfrey.” His eyes slid to the basement door again. “And I don’t know if I can go back.”

She realized his conflict was about Cress. The clan would have a hard time accepting a non-Inverni as a mate for their leader. That Cress was a
leanansidhe
made matters worse. No one trusted them. With the failures of the past haunting the Inverni, they would find Cress’s influence disturbing. Hell, she thought, I find it disturbing sometimes. Their intimacy had a palpable texture to it. Everyone could feel it when they were together. That intensity for anything other than the good of the clan would be looked on as suspect. “The Wheel of the World, Terryn,” she said instead.

Terryn said nothing. The Wheel of the World, the fate of them all, a question of faith to which both she and Terryn subscribed. Things happened because they needed to happen for whatever reason fate dictated. They all rode the Wheel as It turned. Sometimes It ran its course as it would and sometimes people affected its course. At least that was what Laura believed. Otherwise, she was a pawn in the hands of some vast unknown Power. As far as she was concerned, if such a Power existed, she doubted it would care much about her as an individual.

“Sometimes I forget that,” he said.

“We all do.”

He changed the subject. “Sinclair stays off the books until he proves himself.”

“That’s fine with me,” Laura said.

Terryn allowed himself a tired smile, which was telling. Powerful fey didn’t tire easily. “Good. Because he’s your responsibility until then. He doesn’t go anywhere without you except when he’s at work.”

Laura nearly dropped her glass. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head. “No joke. I don’t trust him. I trust your judgment, but that doesn’t mean I won’t set precautions. You should decide where you’re going to live. The two of you can’t stay here. It will raise questions.”

She put the glass down. “You want me to
live
with him?”

“Is there a problem? You’ve done things like this before. If he’s willing, maybe he’ll let Janice Crawford move in to his place. The Crawford apartment is rather small, and the cable’s been disconnected.”

She retrieved the glass and turned away to refill it at the sink. “Fine. Bring him to the Guildhouse. I have to get some things from my apartment, and I’ll pick him up afterward.”

“Okay. Cress should be done by now. Do you want me to help debrief him?” Terryn said to her back.

She shook her head as she stared out the window. Someone had set up a swing set in the backyard. “It’ll help build trust if I do it alone.”

“True. Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” he said.

She kept staring out the window. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

CHAPTER 18

DROPPING HER DUFFEL
bag on the threshold, Laura stood in the doorway of Sinclair’s apartment. The small, spare living room was furnished with two armchairs and a couch. A pile of books and magazines teetered next to a used coffee cup on the coffee table. Throw pillows pressed to one side of the couch with a blanket hanging half on the floor. A flat-screen TV was mounted above the fireplace.

“Sorry the place is such a mess,” Sinclair said.

“It’s fine.” All in all, Laura thought, a helluva lot cleaner than her room at the Guildhouse.

Sinclair picked up the blanket and folded it. “Make yourself at home.”

She closed the apartment door. While Sinclair tidied the magazines, she scanned the room for essence. Moving along the bookcases to either side of the fireplace, she noted a few classic novels, plenty of mysteries and thrillers, and a substantial amount of nonfiction. Sinclair read biographies of politicians and histories. Or at least owned them, Laura thought. She mentally slapped herself for the unspoken dig at him. She couldn’t deny he read. There were too many books and too many categories for it to be one of those contrived libraries. She had been hoping he wouldn’t be interesting.

A stone cup sat next to a history of the Seelie Court in the twentieth century. It threw off the subtle essence of a listening ward. As Sinclair passed it on the way to the kitchen, the cup’s essence faded and reappeared when he was gone.

The dining area was large enough for a table and four chairs. Sinclair scooped an empty glass and a plate with crumbs off the table and carried them through an archway. A framed photograph hung on the wall. Other than that, the space held nothing that could be a ward.

To the left of the dining room, the archway led to a galley kitchen. She watched Sinclair place the cup, plate, and glass in the sink and run water. “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

“Sure. I’ll take any kind of beer,” she said. She opened the cabinets and scanned inside. No listening wards. Sinclair moved to the end of the counter and took two beers out of the refrigerator. She caught a subtle current of essence when he moved away. A ceramic canister outside the range of his medallion had been charged as another listening ward. She pointed it out to him and held her finger to her lips.

In the living room, he popped open both bottles and handed her one. He held his out, and they tapped bottles. Laura took a sip and set the bottle on a magazine. She opened her duffel bag.
Ask me what this is,
she sent.