Lover Mine (8 page)

The right answer was to not let the unstoppable force meet the immovable object.

John balled up his fist and slammed it on the table. The crack was so loud, it brought everyone’s head around, and Blay had to catch his Coke on the upswing as it bounced into the air.

After John grabbed the undivided attention of the combatants, he fingered up two birds and flashed one in each of their directions: Being mute, it was the closest he was going to get to telling them to chill the fuck out.

Qhuinn’s mismatched stare swung back to the Shadow. “It’s just like you would do for Rehv. Can’t blame me for that.”

There was a pause . . . and then the Shadow eased up a little. “True enough.” As the testosterone surge faded to a dull roar, Trez nodded. “Yeah . . . true enough. And I’m not going to hurt him. If he’s a gentleman, I’ll be a gentleman. I give you my word.”

Stay with Blay
, John signed, before turning around and heading for the Shadow.

Trez led the way into a hall that was wide and stacked with cases of beer and liquor. The kitchen was at the far end, separated by a pair of flap-doors that made no sound when you went through them.

Brightly lit and with a red tile floor, the heart of the restaurant was neat as a pin and the size of a house, with a bank of stoves, a meat locker, and yards and yards of stainless-steel countertops. Pans hung up above and down below and something gorgeous was stewing on a front burner.

Trez went over and lifted the lid. After a deep inhale, he glanced over with a smile. “My brother is a helluva cook.”

Sure was, John thought. Although with Shadows you always had to wonder what the protein was. Rumor had it they liked to eat their enemies.

The guy replaced the top and reached up to a stack of pads. Taking one of them off the pile, he slid the thing across the counter and snagged a pen from a cup.

“That’s for you.” Trez crossed his arms over his huge chest and leaned back against the stove. “When you called and asked to see us, I was surprised. Like I said, Rehv lives under the same roof you do, so it’s not as if you aren’t aware of what he’s doing up north in the colony. Therefore you must know, as your bosses do, that he’s searching the northern- most corner of the labyrinth this week . . . and you must also be aware that he’s found absolutely, positively nothing that leads him to believe Xhex was captured by a
symphath
.”

John didn’t make a move, neither confirming nor denying.

“And I also find it curious that you want to ask me about drug deals, given that Rehv knows everything about the trade here in Caldwell.”

At this point, iAm came into the kitchen. He went to the pot and gave it a stir as well, then braced himself next to his brother, assuming the same pose. John hadn’t heard they were twins, but damn, you had to wonder.

“So what’s doing, John,” Trez murmured. “Why doesn’t your king know what you’re up to and why aren’t you talking to my man Rehvenge?”

John faced off at the pair of them and then picked up the pen and wrote for a little bit. When he flashed the paper forward, the Shadows leaned in.

Trez laughed and iAm even smiled. “Yeah, we can read your emotions. Just figured you might want to explain yourself.” When John shook his head, Trez nodded. “Okay, fair enough. And I gotta respect your no-bullshit policy. Who else knows that this is personal to you?”

John went back to the pad-and-pen routine.
Rehv, most likely, given that he’s a
symphath
. Qhuinn and Blay. But none of the Brothers.

iAm spoke up. “So that tattoo you just got . . . it have to do with her?”

John was momentarily surprised, but then figured they could either smell the fresh ink or feel the reverberations of the faded pain.

With a quiet scribble, he wrote,
That is none of your business.

“Cool, I can respect that,” Trez said. “Listen . . . no offense, but why can’t you trust the Brothers with this shit? Is it because she’s a
symphath
and you’re worried about how they’ll take it? Because they’re down with Rehv.”

Trez barked out a laugh. “Well . . . there you go. And I can’t fault logic like that.”

The two Shadows looked at each other and there was a long stretch of quiet. Which John took to mean they were having a conversation gray matter-to-gray matter.

After a moment, they glanced back to him, and as usual Trez did the talking. “Well, now . . . since you’ve done us the courtesy of cutting the shit, we’ll do the same. Talking to you like this puts us in a difficult position. Our relationship with Rehv is tight, as you know, and he’s as personally invested in this as you are.” Just as John was trying to figure out a way around all that, Trez murmured, “But we will tell you . . . neither one of us is picking up on her. Anywhere.”

John swallowed hard, thinking that was not good news.

“No, it isn’t. She’s either dead . . . or she’s being held somewhere with a block.” Trez cursed. “I think Lash has her, too. And I totally buy the idea that he’s working the streets for cash, and that’s the only way to find him. If I had to guess, he’s trying out human dealers first before converting them to the Lessening Society—and mark my balls, he’s going to start inducting them ASAP. He’ll want to have total control over his retail team and the only way he’s going to get that is by turning them. As for hotbeds of dealing, the malls are always jumping. So is the high school, although that’s going to be tough because of daylight problems for you. Municipal construction zones, too—the vendors in those catering trucks always used to buy from us. Also, that Xtreme skating park. Lotta shit goes down there. And under the bridges—although that’s mostly homeless, bottom-feeder real estate, so the crank ratio for cash will probably be too low for Lash to get a hard-on over.”

John nodded, thinking this was precisely the info he’d been hoping to get.
What about the suppliers
, he wrote.
If Lash stepped into Rehv’s shoes, wouldn’t he need relationships with them?

“Yup. The big one in town, Ricardo Benloise, is pretty fucking insulated, though.” Trez glanced at his brother and there was another silence. When iAm nodded, Trez turned back. “Okay. We’ll see if we can get you some intel on Benloise—at least enough so you can trail his ass in the event he meets with Lash.”

John signed without thinking,
Thank you so much.

Both of them nodded, and then Trez said, “Two caveats.”

With his hands, John urged the guy to continue.

“One, my brother and I don’t keep anything from Rehv. So we’re going to tell him you came to see us.” As John frowned, Trez shook his head. “Sorry. That’s the way it is.”

iAm interjected, “It’s cool with us that you’re digging deep. Not that the Brothers aren’t, it’s just the more hands on deck, the better her chances are.”

John could see that, but he still wanted to keep shit private. Before he could get scribbling, Trez kept going.

“And two, you must fully inform us of any information you get. Rehvenge, that fucking control-freak bastard, has commanded us to stay out of it. Your turning up here? Well, isn’t that just a convenient way for us to get involved.”

As John wondered why in the hell Rehv would tie the hands of the two warriors, iAm said, “He figures we’ll get ourselves killed.”

“And because of our . . .” Trez paused, as if looking for the right word. “. . . ‘relationship’ with him, we’re locked in.”

“He might as well have chained us to the cocksucking wall.”

Trez shrugged. “Which was why we agreed to meet with you. The moment you texted, we knew—”

“—here was the opening we—”

“—were looking for.”

As the Shadows completed each other’s sentences, John took a deep breath. At least they understood where he was coming from.

“We totally do.” Trez put his knuckles out and, as John gave them a pound, the guy nodded. “And let’s just keep this little backroom convo to ourselves.”

John leaned over the pad.
Wait, I thought you said you were going to tell Rehv I was here?

Trez read over the handwriting and laughed again. “Oh, we’re going to tell him you came to visit and have a meal.”

iAm smiled darkly. “But he doesn’t need to know the rest of it.”

After Trez and John went into the back, Blay finished off his Coke and tracked Qhuinn with his peripheral vision. The guy was pacing around the bar area like he’d had his wings clipped and didn’t appreciate the trim.

He just couldn’t stand getting shut out of shit. Whether it was a dinner or a meeting or a fight, he preferred an all-access pass to life.

His kinetic silence was worse than cursing, frankly.

Blay got up and went behind the bar with his empty glass. As he refilled his Coke and watched the frothing dark rush hit the ice, he wondered why he was so attracted to the guy. He was a please-and-thank-you kind of male. Qhuinn was more of a fuck-off-and-die type.

Guess opposites attracted. At least on his side—

iAm came back in and had with him what could only be described as a male of worth: The guy was dressed impeccably, from the cut of his dark gray overcoat to the shine on his wingtips, and instead of a tie, he was wearing a cravat. Thick blond hair was cut short in the back and left long in the front and his eyes were the color of pearls.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell are you doing here?” Qhuinn’s voice boomed out as iAm disappeared into the back. “You slick bastard.”

Blay’s first response was to tighten up all over. Last thing he needed was another ride on the spectator merry-go-round, assuming Qhuinn was attracted to the guy.

Except then he frowned. Could it be . . . ?

The male who’d just arrived laughed as he embraced Qhuinn. “You have
such
a way with words, cousin. I would say . . . trucker meets sailor crossed with a twelve-year-old.”

Saxton. It was Saxton, son of Tyhm. Blay could remember meeting him once or twice before.

Qhuinn pulled back. “
Fuck
is actually a comma. Or didn’t they teach that shit to you at Harvard?”

“They were more concerned with contract law. Property. Torts—which covers actionable wrongs against others, by the way. I’m surprised you weren’t on the final exam.”

Qhuinn’s fangs flashed bright and white as he truly smiled. “That’s human law. They can’t handle me.”

“Who can.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Property transactions for the Shadow brothers. Lest you think I just learned all that human jurisprudence for my health.” Saxton’s eyes shifted over and met Blay’s. Instantly, the guy’s expression changed to something serious and speculative. “Well, hello.”

Saxton turned his back on Qhuinn and came over with a focus that made Blay check behind himself.

“Blaylock, is it not?” The male extended his elegant arm across the bar. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

Blay had always felt a little tongue-tied in Saxton’s presence because the “slick bastard” always had a comeback. And a vibe like he not only knew the right answers to everything but might not choose to let you in on the secrets if you weren’t up to his standards.

“How do you do?” Blay said as their palms met.

Saxton smelled really good and had a handshake that was firm. “You’ve grown up a lot.”

Blay found himself flushing as he took his hand back. “You’re just the same.”

“Am I?” Those pearl eyes flashed. “Is that good or bad?”

“Oh . . . good. I didn’t mean—”

“So tell me how you’ve been. Are you mated to some nice female your parents set you up with?”

Blay’s laugh was sharp and hard. “God, no. There’s no one for me.”

Qhuinn inserted himself in the conversation, all but putting his body between them. “So, how
you
been, Sax?”

“Rather well.” Saxton didn’t even glance over at Qhuinn as he answered, his attention staying on Blay. “Although my parents want me out of Caldwell. I am not inclined to leave, however.”

Needing somewhere else to look, Blay got busy drinking his soda and counting the ice cubes that floated in it.

“And what are you doing here?” Saxton asked.

There was a long pause and eventually, Blay swung his eyes back up as he wondered why Qhuinn hadn’t replied.

Oh. Right. Saxton wasn’t addressing his cousin.

“You going to speak up there, Blay,” Qhuinn prompted with a frown.

For the first time in . . . God, forever, it seemed . . . he went to fully meet his best friend’s stare. Although it wasn’t like he needed to brace himself. As always, those mismatched eyes were trained on someone else: Saxton was getting a once-over that would have rendered lesser males several inches shorter. But Qhuinn’s cousin was either unaware of it or possibly didn’t care.