Winter's Knight (13 page)

“The man has more rumor around him than you do.”
“I’msure we’re goingto be just the best offriends,” Clark agreed witha sneer.
Lucian brought the mug to his mouth without actually drinking the coffee. “I see why he’s a last resort. Completely untrustworthy. But if he wishes to endear himselfto us...”
“Then the fastest way would be information about a case we cannot make heads nor tails of, yes. Besides, I have to admit.” Clark glanced at Lucian, looking sheepish. “I’mfuckingdyingofcuriosity.”
Lucian chuckled. “Of course you are. I’m not opposed to broadening our twilight interests and network.”
“Then?”
“Set it up,” Lucian said, decisive with the path to possible insight clear. “We’ll meet at your bar. It’s public and the most neutral ground we’ve got. I’m not about to invite Kris fucking Fawkes to the Gray Building, the Benevolent Fund headquarters, or the clubs. If Father caught wind of that, I’d hear about it, and takinghimto Break would be secure, but--”
“It’d be an obvious symbol of acceptance before we evenhear his offer,”Clark finished.
“Tell him to bring what he’s got that we’d find interesting. I don’t want to bother with anything less thanhis best gambit.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And have Tim on the premises,” Lucian added. “I’ll bring Aaron and Cale. A small show of force to someone like Kris will indicate we’re serious and tell him that we understand he’s formidable and not to be trusted.”
“I’ll make it so, captain,” Clark said, finishing the coffee.
“Thank you,” Lucian said, standing to shake Clark’s hand. “Oh, and Shea’s at home today and workingat the schooltomorrow.”
Clark grinned. “I’ll subtly increase the surveillance I’ve alreadygot onyour boy, sir.”
“Youhave mygratitude,”Luciansaid, resolutelynot sighing in the relief he felt, though Clark’s knowing look said Lucianwas entirelytransparent.
“When you’re done with the IT guy, do me a favor and give me the go-ahead to talk to the accounting candidate?” Clark added, backing toward the door. “Ryuu’s handling the books for the clubs in the interim, and God help us...”
“Consider this my green light. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?”
“I’m summarily dismissed, sir, I get it.” Clark bowed smartly with an impressive click of his tennis shoes and left.
Lucian collapsed into the chair, head on the blotter. He was exhausted and exhilarated all at once, and he sternlytalked himselfout ofbailingonhis meeting, going to Shea’s cabin, and curling up in Shea’s arms, just to know Shea was safe, solid, and... his.
“My Shea...” Lucian whispered, trembling with the intensity of ownership and, Lucian admitted, love. The kind oflove that made Lucian meet with nightmares and move mountains of filth to avenge Shea’s name and keep the manprotected.
“Yes, MyPrince.”
Lucian cleared his throat, drained his coffee, and watched the door, waiting.
***
Clark’s office chair creaked when Lucian leaned back, and he jerked upright when it felt like the thing was going to break in half with his weight. With an irritated snort, Lucian straightened his tie and black suit jacket, crossing his legs under the battered desk. He shrugged in the shoulder holster that ruined the line of the cloth but kept his Colt at the ready, and his knee nudged the metal pivot-rack that held the Sig .357 on its side, aimingat the emptyseats across fromhim.
Lucian might fuss at Clark for a variety of reasons, but beingunprepared was never one ofthem.
The bar, Glow, was closed, the hour late or very early, depending on one’s view, and all the staff had been dismissed before Lucian, Aaron, and Cale had shown up at Glow’s rear entrance an hour before Kris Fawkes was to arrive. Tim and Clark were already there, and were now waiting in the alleyway, wellarmed, shrouded in Ranger gear, and content to sit out the duration of the morning should Kris not actually appear. At least it wasn’t snowing.
Aaron and Cale were inside, one at the bolted door that led into the rest of the bar’s interior and one at the door to Clark’s office, which was just offthe kitchen. It had beena storage roomina previous life, and afforded just enough room for two visitor chairs, the desk, and the broken piece of rolling, badly-upholstered shit that Clark hung on to, ostensibly because it was comfortable. The cork board to Lucian’s right was covered in allkinds ofpieces ofpaper, no smallamount of them sketches done by Clark’s employee, Jeffery. Lucian amused himself by studying the art; the boy was quite talented, really, particularlywithmale anatomy.
At precisely one minute past two a.m., the service entrance opened. Clark and Tim marched a third man inside the spotless kitchen, and Aaron and Cale stood straighter.
“Head on in, Mr. Fawkes,” Clark said, friendly, while Tim threw the bar across the heavy, steel door. “Hands where I cansee them, ifyoudon’t mind.”
Kris Fawkes said nothing, gloved fingers spread to either of his sides. Lucian had no doubt Clark and Tim had frisked the man thoroughly. Kris’ long, wool peacoat was undone, its collar turned up in a way that made Lucian sigh. Kris was about Clark’s height, slightly over six feet, and broad. He was pale, face clean-shaven but freshly and cruelly so, red dots speckling his throat. He had a strong jaw, thin, set mouth, and he kept his eyes on the kitchen floor. He could be a thug, a businessman, a perfectly nondescript nobody on the street you’d pass every day without noticing. He wore a black skull cap, heavy boots, dark slacks, and walked through the exterior room and into the office with a determination that Lucian recognized and respected.
Standing, Lucian waited until Clark stepped inside and stood in the open doorway. Cale held position at the bar’s door, Aaron at the service entrance, and Tim casually leaned against a counter, facing Clark’s back. All the men in position, Lucian took a second to study the dark circles under Kris’ eyes, the sunken cheeks, the stoop of the shoulders. Lucian’s instincts were all awake and attuned, analyzing the man known for brutality and seeing not only the demon that lurked in the darkness, but also the exhaustion, the concession. Across from him was a man who should be hidden beneath layers of masks, misdirections, threats, and calculations, and instead was laid bare and obviously uncaringofit.
Lucian made note and held out a hand that was immediately studied by Clark’s all-seeing gaze. “Good evening, Mr. Fawkes. Lucian Gray. Your reputation precedes you.”
“So I see.” Hazel eyes flickered from man to man, and the tired voice held the faintest clip of a British accent. Kris took Lucian’s hand and clasped it briefly. “You’ve afforded me quite the reception, Mr. Gray. I stand at your convenience, as I stand at all.”
Some piece of Lucian purred at Kris’ oddly poetic inflection, and Clark shifted minutely. Lucian didn’t need to look to see the warning glare or actually have Clark speak to hear the, “It’s not hard to sound like an educated fop. Don’t let it slip bythe defenses, sir.”
“Byallmeans, sit at myconvenience, ifyouplease,” Lucian said, taking his place behind the desk as Kris followed suit to sink into the chair furthest from Clark. “With someone such as yourself dropping in for a meeting, I felt it appropriate to greet you in a suitable fashion. I’m sure you understand. Besides, my men make the most pleasant company when they’re inspired to pretend they’re more human than mere tools of destruction, and I don’t enjoywaitinginsolitude.”
The grin that greeted the salvo showed teeth and what Lucian translated as honest appreciation. Kris shifted inthe chair. “Most humane ofyou, I’msure.”He leaned toward Lucian. “And, dear sir, I’d be most honored if you’d grace me with what miracle occurred that allowed me to pass your guard dog without a mauling, and exactly what it is you want to know about Miranda.”
Lucian held Kris’gaze and didn’t waver despite the temptation to arch an eyebrow. Lucian knew that the message Clark had sent through channels to reach Kris had included Miranda’s working name, not her real name, and the way Kris spoke the syllables implied possessive familiarity, or at least something more than mere occupational interest. Guts screaming that something was amiss and brain putting pieces together at the speed of recalculation, Lucian finally dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “A certain amount of directness is refreshing, Mr. Fawkes, my thanks. Allow me to supply you the same courtesy. Miranda is the latest victim in a string of unfortunate deaths into which my people are investigating as the authorities are being, shall we say, less than helpful for causes I understand but do not commend.”
“An’ why the bloody fuck d’ya give a shite ‘bout whores weighted indeep waters?”The forcefulspew of expressive words didn’t distract Lucianenoughto avoid noticing that Kris’ gloved hands shook until they clenched into fists. Clark’s weight pitched forward onto the balls of his feet, and Lucian held up a single finger in caution. Lucianliked the emotion. Luciancould use it.
“It’s very simple, Mr. Fawkes,” Lucian said levelly to Kris’ flashing eyes. “One of my earliest lovers was a member of the world’s oldest profession, and often subjected to abuse at the hands of that system.” Lucian ignored Clark’s incredulous expression, subtle though it was, and smiled without mirth. “In my efforts to shut down Haze, which operates outside the realm of my tolerance, I discovered a cluster of women whom no one cared to give a proper burial, much less dig into the muck fromwhich they were laid to lie fallow. And I see you’re a man who can appreciate such... personal conviction?”
Kris watched Clark, and Lucian didn’t mind what Kris could surmise. Let the mantake what he would, so long as it served Lucian’s goals. One of Kris’ hands uncurled on the desk to rest there, trembling, before Kris’ gaze returned to Lucian. “Yes. You’ve read me aright. Expected to come inhere and get well-murdered for my trouble, but if you’ll bring down those that worked the hurting and killing, I’m your man ‘til the dying.”
“I will not accede to the death of those working in my honor,” Lucian said, softer and pleased that Kris seemed ready to pledge an oath on Lucian’s proverbial sword. “In fact, it’d irritate me. Best not that such a thing happen. So, to that end, why don’t you arm us with what you know of those doing said hurting and killing?”
Kris blinked and straightened in his chair. “You’ve not got the whole story? I thought that was why your man came to get me. She wasn’t supposed to...” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
The overwhelming humanity in the moment made Lucianhuma note ofaffectionate encouragement. Clark sighed, in defeat, Lucian suspected, and he made mental note to buy Clark a stiff drink in both apology and thanks. “At your leisure,”Luciansaid to Kris.
Eyes opened but didn’t look at Lucian, they stared somewhere into the distance. “It all began five years ago with a group of business men, corrupt men who were looking to go into the underground with each others’ help, all connected by reputation and politics. Together, they would be formidable in the world movements of economics and government, and their locations spanned the EU, old Russia, and Pacific Asia. The welcoming arms of the United States and one of her largest cities lured themallhere.
“They each controlled interests of one kind or another in our fair city, which is how I caught wind of themand their purpose. They needed to prove that they were bad enough to be trusted by each other, which, as you can well understand, is a tricky proposition. Most of those on my side of the fence find trust a difficult thing, especially with someone that’s as like to stab you in the back as make a profit on you. There’s a number of ways to get around that, but one of the most common is sharing blackmail information. You have dirt on me, and I have dirt on you, so if either of us are takendownthe other goes as well. Make sense?”
Luciansat forward, noddingwhile finally-- finally-the puzzle started to take shape, and it was, somewhat frighteningly, familiar. “So some enterprising crook spots a club that has its hooks in the meat of impropriety. Perhaps as a way to reward, maybe as a place to conduct business, but most certainly an opportunity to cull for ways and means to create illicit records.”
“Spot on,” Kris said, eyes lighting. “If you’re not bad enough to strike a helpless woman, then you’ve got no guts for what these wankers go for, see? So the pure shite of it is that they went a leap and a bound further into a nightmare scale for hazing.” Thin lips twisted. “The name’s too soddin’ apropos. They’ve gulled, trained, and coerced paid girls and two men into being the victims, and these good guys freakin’ filmeachother doingthe torture.”
Clark’s look of disgust echoed what Lucian felt but didn’t express. Lucian clasped his hands, brought them to his mouth, thinking. “That there’s a standard hazing procedure explains the consistency of the injuries...” He trailed off, breath taken by brilliant flashes of Shea’s parted lips, the taste of Shea’s skin under Lucian’s tongue, the questions...
“CanI be as loud as I like?”
Lucian clenched teeth to clear his head. “And useful to know the depth of influence and the level of skill at which these people operate. The web is larger than we suspected. It explains the multiple dead ends and potentialperpetrators.”
“That it does.” Kris leaned back, his voice growing light, almost careless. “And the skill with which they did it gives flashes of just how much muscle they have behind them. I mean I’ve tortured my measure, squeezed every last drop of will and knowledge from some sorry blokes, but there was nothin’ these innocents could give to stop what these piss-poor substitutes for humanity wanted. Using the very finest in brainwashin’ skills, pain application, MDMA to lower resistance, and training methods that would make these poor chicks into toys for soddin’, beatin’ to death, or whatever turned themon.”
Lucian’s guts twisted in a painful cramp, and his left temple began to throb in the first warning pangs of a bad headache. He betrayed nothing, staying stock still until the wave passed, and he refused to listen to the sibilant whispers from the darkest corners of his consciousness, though they were gaining in volume with each passing second. “You said there is film of these crimes?” Lucian asked, and the words were a creeping, sleepydrawl.
“There is.” Kris frowned. “An’ other evidence set aside. Was planning...” He stopped again and took a deeper breath. “In the mansion where they do the dirty, they’ve locked away the archive of films. There has to be other copies stashed through the city, just for bank, right? But the man in charge abides in the rarefied air of Shadgrove. I have blueprints. I know the security schedule. Was going to... couldn’t hire my usual muggers, as... well... the minute they knew I’d be a splatter on the sidewalk.” Kris’ voice stuttered, like what he said was shattering walls too close to his core. Lucian mentally offered sincere sympathies. “So if I’m going to die, I’mgoing to at least do it while trained on their hearts. You--”