Born of Fire (12 page)

Kasen laughed so hard she choked. After several coughs, she cleared her throat. “Syn hurt Cai? Lay off the hallucinogens, Sis. Syn would sooner cut off his own balls than hurt Cai . . . I’m sure it was a joke. Syn’s got an odd sense of humor. Takes a while to get used to him.”

She couldn’t believe this. Kasen had to be wrong. She had to be.

“Hey, now,” Kasen said as if an idea had just occurred to her. “Why were you with Syn anyway?” Her face turned serious, frigid. “You didn’t do anything to him, did you?”

Trying to act as nonchalantly as possible, Shahara wrung out her dishrag. “What do you mean?”

Kasen stepped up to the counter and glared at her. “You know what I mean. You don’t hang with men and definitely not people like Syn—you hunt them down.” Her look intensified. “If you’ve done anything to him, I swear I’ll tear you apart.”

She gaped at her sister’s threat. “You would choose him over me after all I’ve done for you?”

“No, I love you. But me and Cai would both be roasting our ass in prison if not for him. Syn even took the blame for me when I got caught filching files, and covered my tracks so that I wouldn’t get arrested.”

“You did what?”

“Don’t you dare get mad at me.” She pointed one bony finger in Shahara’s face. “I’ve had it with your moralizing. Tessa needed the money and
you
didn’t
have it, as usual. I did what I had to, to help out. Besides, I already had my ass chewed sideways from Syn over it. I don’t need to hear any more lectures.”

Kasen scratched her nose. “Like Caillen, I get tired of always borrowing money from Syn to cover things. Even if Syn doesn’t say anything, I still don’t like it.” She gave a short laugh. “ ’Course I won’t do any more filching. I stink at it and I’m not about to get Syn into any worse trouble.”

Shahara blinked. She couldn’t be hearing this.

Had Syn paid off the hospital because of Caillen? Honestly, she couldn’t fathom anyone being that nice. Not unless he was getting something out of it.

“Why does Syn help the two of you? What do you and Caillen do for him?”

She shrugged. “Nothing really. Syn’s never asked for the money back or asked us to do anything for him—come to think of it, he never asks anyone for anything. Caillen makes a few runs for him every now and again, but Syn always pays him for it. Personally, I think Syn has more money than he knows what to do with.”

Another gut-wrenching thought occurred to Shahara. “Do you sleep with him?”

Kasen snorted. “Oh please, I wish. He’s gorgeous and ripped to the devil and back. I would give just about anything in the universe for a taste of
that
deadly Syn. But he’s never been interested in me, and the last time I made a move on him, Caillen almost tore my arm out of its socket. Lesson learned. Syn off-limits.”

Shahara bit her lip as she processed that latest bit.

What had she done?

You arrested your brother’s best friend. Idiot!

She had the terrible feeling that she’d made a horrible
mistake. One, by turning him in. Two, by signing a deal with the devil to help out her family.

If half of what Kasen said was true, Caillen would never forgive her for doing this to his friend. A friend who’d helped all of them over the years . . .

What was she going to do? She didn’t want Caillen to hate her. Or even Kasen for that matter.

They were her family.

The
only
family she’d ever have. She couldn’t hurt them any more than a mother could hurt her own children.

What a way to pay a man back for helping you. Gah, I suck as a human being.

Her thoughts spinning, she felt a sudden need to be alone. She had to think through this. To find some way out of the mess she’d created.

She tossed the towel into the sink. “I’ve got some errands to run. If you leave before I get back, lock my door.”

“Get some more friggles while you’re gone.”

Shahara barely heard her over the buzz in her ears. She couldn’t accept this latest mission. Someway, somehow she’d find a way to get them to release her from her million-credit contract.

So much for release. Merjack was a bastard of the first order and he’d insisted she see her contract for the chip through or lose her license.

Then where would she be?

In the gutter with the rest of the rats.

Disgusted, Shahara glanced at the outside of the toughest prison in the Ichidian Universe. Inside the twenty-two-foot high, white-speckled walls resided the most dangerous felons who’d ever lived.

Never in her life had she been more afraid. She still couldn’t believe she was doing this. What had she been thinking when she’d made her agreement?

Tessa’s life.

And the money, of course. But right now, staring up at the force field that surrounded the high walls, money just didn’t seem all that important. Especially not when her life was about to be on the line.

Just one slip, and she was sure Merjack would toss her into a cell with Syn.

Or worse, Syn would cut her throat.

She sighed wearily. “Dang, Caillen,” she whispered. “I really wish you’d pick a better class of friends.”

Her throat tight, she walked down the cold, gray walkway where six armed guards eyed her warily.

Easy, girl. No fast moves.

Men of this caliber were like animals. They attacked whenever they sensed weakness.

Curling her lip at them, she approached the search station where they scanned people for weapons and credentials. She had to remain composed if she was to live through this mission.

You will be completely on your own. No one will acknowledge you as working with us. You will be a fugitive on the run the same as Syn until you return with him and the chip. Only then will you be cleared of this matter. Do not fail.

Because if she did, they would execute her too. Heck of a leverage tool they were using on her.

Closing her eyes, she wished she’d never even heard the name C.I. Syn.

“Papers?” the guard asked.

She handed them over. It’d taken four days to get the “forged” papers she needed to release Syn from prison.
And as each day passed, she’d feared more and more for her life. Especially if Caillen ever found out.

If only Tessa would learn her lesson about gambling and get-rich-quick schemes . . .

Yeah, like that would ever happen.
Thanks, Dad, for that life lesson.

Once the guards cleared her, she headed for the Vice Warden’s office and pressed the buzzer for entrance.

“Yes?” a sharp, irritated voice asked over the intercom.

“I’m here for a prisoner transfer.”

A click sounded and the steel-gray door slid up. This was it. Just one more step and then there would be no turning back. Her heart hammering, she entered the green office, the color reminding her of mold.

There were no pictures on the walls, probably to keep some prisoner from breaking one and using the glass or frame as a weapon. Two brown, steel desks were set beside a larger one that must have been designated for the Officer in Charge. All were bolted to the floor.

At present, only one man occupied the office. A greasy little fellow who looked up from the first of the two smaller desks. “Papers?” He extended his frail hand.

She stepped up to his desk and handed the disc that contained the forgeries to him.

He put the disc into his reader and glanced at the orders for a moment, then looked back at her. “These are for Syn.”

Keep your composure, Shahara. Don’t move a facial muscle you don’t have to.

“Yes, I know. He’s also wanted on Gouran for the rape and murder of Princess Kiara Zamir. I’m here to escort him over for trial.”

The little man pushed his glasses back up on his nose and frowned. “Minister Merjack won’t like this. I think we should wait until he gets back tomorrow before we release C.I. Syn to you.”

Shahara shrugged. “Fine. You can call President Zamir and tell him that you’ve authorized the delay. I’m sure he’ll be understanding. After all, she was his only child.”

The man gulped, his eyes widening in fear of the notoriously brutal president and military commander who was rumored to have once gutted a man for just ogling his daughter while they dined. “We . . . we wouldn’t want
him
upset, would we?”

“I know
I
wouldn’t want him upset at
me.
But you’re the power in charge here. How did you spell your name again?
”

He shuffled several papers on top of his desk as if debating, then finally he reached for his link. “Warden Traysen, I have a Seax Dagan here who is waiting to transfer Syn to Gouran. I need your approval, sir.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Shahara took a deep breath in relief. So far everything was going as planned. Just a few more minutes and she’d be safely away.

But how long each second was turning out to be . . .

When Traysen showed up, she reminded herself not to acknowledge that they knew each other in any way.

He eyed her with a cool, warning stare.

Without a word of greeting, she followed him down a series of locked and guarded hallways until they entered the detention area.

Scanning the facility, she couldn’t squelch her revulsion over the living conditions of the prisoners. The
lower into the facility they went, the worse the conditions in each cell—which literally were holes cut out of the masonry. Holes that were barely large enough for a small child, never mind the men and women who were forced to live inside them.

Unidentified odors assailed her until she could barely breathe. Human excrement littered not only the floors of the cells, but also spilled over into the hallways.

Little to no light reached the prisoners who moaned and begged for death and mercy as they passed.

The seax in her rebelled at their inhumane conditions and she vowed to see to it that the Overseer’s council was notified of this violation. No one, regardless of their crimes, should have to live like these people did.

How did Traysen work here day after day and not report it?

“Merjack ordered me to keep Syn penned in solitary.” Traysen swung open an armored door, which led to an underground area. A brisk, cold wind blew up the stairs, freezing her. “I warn you, he’s one tough son of a bitch.”

“Merjack?”

Traysen shook his head. “Syn. I’ve never seen anyone like him in my life and I thought I’d seen it all in my day. I’m not quite sure if a little thing like you can handle him.”

“I’ve handled worse,” Shahara said with a confidence she didn’t feel. Last time they’d tangled hadn’t gone all that well for her.

She just hoped she had better luck this time.

And right now she wasn’t too sure if Syn wouldn’t kill her on sight. Who could blame him? She had a hard
time picturing the immaculate Syn residing in such a filthy place as this.

The cells down where Traysen led were made of titanium instead of stone. Clear, steel-glass walls sealed off the front of the cells and allowed her to see into them, but no audible sound could be heard. The prisoners, male and female, were naked and chained down by stakes on the titanium floor or secured to the walls or ceiling. Shahara’s stomach churned in horror. Given their condition and the frigid temperature, she didn’t know what kept them from freezing to death.

When they neared Syn’s cell, it was all she could do not to retch. His hands were chained together over his head, and another chain suspended from the ceiling kept him two feet above the floor. More chains were secured to his feet on a short line to prevent him from being able to kick.

Every muscle in his upper torso was stretched taut by the unnatural position. It had to be killing him.

Bruises and lacerations marred every inch of his naked body, and his long, tangled hair obscured his face from her. She bit her lip as guilt gnawed at her conscience.

This was all her fault. How could she have been so stupid?

They’d beaten him well. She could only imagine how much pain he must be in. “How long has he been like this?”

“A few hours. Release the holding hook,” Traysen said into his handheld link. “And send me backup . . .” He looked at her before he added, “A lot of backup.”

Instead of being lowered gently, Syn dropped to the ground like a sack of vegetables. She grimaced.

He lay on the floor, unmoving. Her heart stopped
beating. He didn’t appear to be alive. Had they killed him?

Eight enforcers joined them an instant before the narrow glass door raised. Slowly, the guards moved into the cell.

“A real tough son of a bitch,” Traysen repeated before moving her to the side of the door as if to protect her from something.

When they seized Syn’s chains, he sprang to life, striking out at them. With his fist wrapped in the chain, he decked the first guard to touch him, then he went after the second. For several seconds, he put up a good fight. But with his hands and feet chained together, he didn’t have enough mobility to finish them off.

The guards beat him down with clubs, knocking him back to the floor.

Shahara dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands, trying to keep herself from crying out for them to stop this.

If she did that, it’d mean both their lives.

Steady. Play it cool.

Still, she couldn’t stand to see a defenseless man beaten and just do nothing. How did Traysen manage to look so stoic?

Finally, the enforcers released the chains on Syn’s legs and pulled a pair of pants on him. With his legs free, he renewed his fight with vigor and determination. While he struggled with the guards, he was thrown back against the glass and Shahara saw the fresh lash wounds crossing his back. The raw skin and blood . . .

Bile rose in her throat.

When they turned him around to unchain his hands and recuff them behind his back, she couldn’t stifle the gasp. Bruises and blood covered his face. He’d been
beaten so severely, he could barely open his left eye, but when he finally saw her standing there, he rushed for her.

“Varisha, espolin krava!”

Traysen shielded her with his body. Shahara didn’t know the language Syn used, but she was certain he wasn’t giving her a “Hi, how you doing? Good to see you again” greeting.