The Dream Crafter (15 page)

Laire paused to point, emphasizing every word with the sharp jab of her finger. “This isn’t for discussion, and I don’t want to hear anymore. Me and him will never happen, and quit using me to further your own goals.”

Fallon let Laire stomp away for a few steps – as much as anyone could stomp in shoes like that – before calling out, “Protest all you want, but I will go down with this ship…hey!
Hey!
Anyone ever tell you that isn’t very ladylike?”

*

Griffith stood watch
as the women left, his gaze lingering on Laire and giving Fallon only enough attention to be sure she wasn’t up to something. Once they were clear, Griffith said, “Talon.”

A man appeared, his boneless posture and long trench coat shielding his exact height and body dimensions, green eyes and blond hair both dark, the hair hanging about his face is a careless fashion that suggested roguish and not unwashed. “Boss.”

“Go to ground. I want Hadrien now, and price is no object.”

“Should I wait to hear from you about what price Kyo will pay before I start handing out money or favors?”

The women disappeared, going to wherever next, and now Griffith gave Talon his full attention. “We aren’t giving Hadrien to the Guild. We’re keeping him.”

For the first time in the discussion, Talon’s boneless disinterest was disturbed, his shoulders pushing back as curiosity took hold. “And why would that be? Hadrien’s still a nothing, even if he’s currently pissing all over the Guild.”

“It’s not Hadrien. It’s what he’s key to.” Griffith began to move out of the wooded area, his body taking on purpose and speed the more he talked. “Fallon contacting me not to go after Merc but to get Hadrien means the rumors of a bound are true, and knowing Hadrien, the bound is mortal. We control Hadrien, we control Merc’s fate.”

“We letting Merc die?” There was no censure or outrage over the possibility. There was only Talon asking how to best follow his leader’s directions.

“Merc’s a fucking brick of an opponent, and I’d be a fool not to take advantage of this.” They arrived at a large, open field where a chopper, wide-handled and low seated, awaited. Griffith swung onto the bike and started the engine, waiting until the bike was purring under him to finish his conversation. “I’m taking Hadrien out of the picture. If Merc’s as good as he should be, he’ll figure out a way to get clear of this mess. If not, he knows the rules of the game.”

“The Guild won’t be happy with you over this.”

Griffith kicked up the kickstand, balancing the bike and ready to ride away. “The Guild understands the concept of collateral damage.”

‡

“W
hy haven’t you
killed me yet?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the
best
way to break the two-hour silence Amana had been traveling in with Merc, but she was tired. She was tired physically after a long night where she was only able to sleep in hour long segments before Merc roused her into coherency, then allowing her to go back to sleep, only for the cycle to continue. She was tired mentally after the push-pull of believing that she was safe before she discovered she was at someone else’s mercy, then this hot-cold-hot cycle with Merc – with the thrill of being back with the Merc and their sharing last night, only to find when she woke this morning his eyes blanked and the mercenary before her once again.

She was tired, and to hell with all this uncertainty.

“Because I believe you.”

That answer was so unexpected, the words had to circle Amana’s mind a few times before she could settle in herself that
yes
, she did hear what she thought she heard. “I don’t understand,” was all she could think to say.

Merc’s eyes were in near constant motion as they shifted from mirror to window to mirror again. The constant surveillance tired her out, and how he could keep it up was a mystery.

Now his gaze rested on her for a precious few seconds. “I believe you when you said meeting me was not planned. I believe you when you tell me you don’t work for the Guild.” His eyes flicked away, back to scanning. “As I’m usually right when I believe someone, I’ll believe you until I have hard evidence not to believe you.”

Unexpected warmth slid through her body at those words, bringing an unexpected thickness to her throat, behind her eyes as she faced him, this confusing man she wished she had met in any other circumstances. “And you believing me means…?”

“It means I’m not a murderer. I don’t kill people who don’t deserve it. I’m not going to kill you because you got tossed into this crap.”

“So what’s this then?” she asked, pulling at the handcuffs that chained her to the car door. The last part came out whinier than she wanted, and if she could have reached it, she would have banged her head into the dashboard. Enough whiny. She hated whiny, and while she had indulged a bit lately – and had reasons to – that didn’t mean it needed to become a constant from here on out.

It could be worse. Right now wasn’t fun, but in many ways she was closer to her goal than she had been any time in the last ten years. It could be worse. It had been worse. She didn’t like the tension and she didn’t like the captivity, but she’d take right now, with the weird push-pull between her and Merc and the in-her-grasp chance of freeing her brother, over most of what was in her memory.

It could be worse. The phrase circled her mind, what her brother had always ended their conversations with the few times she’d been able to visit him.
It could be worse. I’ll take being here over the alternative any day.
And she wanted to punch at the barrier between them, scream that she deserved to be there, and why in the four hells hadn’t her brother let them take her away? But he smiled at her, and the love that shone in his eyes for her stayed her tongue and had her moving forward to the next man, the next plan, the next job that maybe would get him free.

Yeah, it could be worse. So enough whining.

“What should I say?” Merc was back to his constant surveillance and not looking at her. “In some ways, believing you makes my situation a lot more dangerous. I can’t let my guard down.”

“How am I dangerous? You’re the trained mercenary who has all these tricks and friends and plans.”

“That’s training. I’m used to that. But you, I have no experience with.”

“Do you mean my power or our connection?” The bravery was unexpected, but it felt right to ask now, after what he had revealed last night, the way they had talked. Though it was hard and confusing and she very well might betray him in the end, her connection to him, the connection formed in dreams, was the most real part of her life right now.

His head dipped forward, enough to allow his bangs to cover his eyes and shield them from her gaze, and the line of his jaw tightened the smallest bit. “Both.” His voice was low and ragged, as if the confession had been torn from him, unwanted and unwavering. “You are this beautiful, wondrous, delicate woman with a power the gods fear, and you made me think of nothing else but you from our first meeting. I’m adrift, and I don’t know how to handle this.”

His honesty was breath-stealing. She’d never known a man to be forthright, with no game or scam threaded throughout his words. “Maybe we can work together.” She twisted in her seat to face him, her arm held back the slightest degree by the cuffs. “I’m not a Guild member. They don’t have my loyalty.”

“But your brother does.” The calm assurance in his voice stopped her movement towards him, had her waiting for his next words. “You’ll do whatever is necessary to free your brother, and there is a part of me that admires that strength of will. There is. But I’m not so blinded by either our connection or my admiration to overlook the fact that if it came down to it, you’d sacrifice me for your brother.”

She’d lied so many it was second-nature, it was not even a concern in her head or her heart, but on her life, she could not untwist her tongue to assure him he was wrong, that she would stick to any bargain, that she would be true to him.

Merc continued. “I’d do the same. I have secrets that compel me, and I have a path to follow. Though maybe in the end it doesn’t make any difference, I don’t want our words to be lies. I’d rather have silence.”

*

Her gaze didn’t
leave him. Even now, while she was sipping soda that he’d picked up from a drive-thru, the weight of her regard settled hard against him. For the first time in memory, he found himself unsettled as it regarded a woman, fought against squirming so she wouldn’t see how she was affecting him.

The last hours had been silent, but the tension that had marked their encounters since he’d grabbed her away from the Guild had abated. No, it wasn’t imagination that he’d been breathing easier, though part of him wished that was the case. Imagination meant more training. Reality meant she had clawed her way inside him deeper than he had suspected.

Now it was afternoon, and their safe house was finally in sight, a little cabin an hour off the main road which he’d used once in the past and should be stocked with supplies unless either a hiker or a bunch of kids out for a weekend of trouble came across it and helped themselves.

Her expressive face held curiosity as it took in the cabin, and he answered the unspoken question. “It’s a bolthole of mine. We’ll be here for a couple nights.”

“Serial killer movies often start this way,” Amana said, as she exited the car and made her way up the stone-and-dirt driveway to the cabin.

“We’re not in a group of college coeds, and people much worse than serial killers are after us already.”

She stopped short and whipped her head towards him, those little lines that always popped out on her forehead when he said something she couldn’t quite parse stood out with clear delineation. “Most men would take the opportunity to reassure their partner everything is okay.”

“Oh. Next time I’ll do that, but only if the Guild isn’t following us. And really, they’re the least of our worries. I guarantee we’re the most wanted couple in the Realms.”

“Let’s agree right now you are never to try to reassure me again.” She shook her head and continued up the stairs, not looking if he was following. “Besides, I don’t know why you’re worrying. I saw how you beat Fallon. Even if you didn’t kill her, being able to win against her…”

Now she looked back at him, her eyes wide and admiring, and damned if that look didn’t scramble his insides and heat up his belly. Pushing the sudden awareness down, Merc took two quick strides to get in front of her as they got near the door. Everything might look neat and cozy from the outside and none of his traps were disturbed, but that meant exactly zilch.

He traveled through, keeping her close behind him, but the easy peace wasn’t a decoy. At the moment, they were all alone.

“So what now?” Amana asked, curling up on the big couch in front of the fireplace. The cabin wasn’t huge, two floors both wide open, the downstairs a kitchen, small eating area, and large sitting area, and the upstairs all bedroom, the only room with a door being the bathroom off the bedroom and the adjoining closet.

“We’ll be here two days, maybe three if we’re lucky, but no more than that. I’ve got people looking into some situations for me. Depending on what they tell me, that will decide what I do next.”