Night Resurrected (52 page)

The man she loved.

Leaving Wyatt to be with his family,

to settle the battle within himself, was

the hardest part . . . and yet, in some

ways, it was the easiest. Life with him

would never be easy. He was too

prickly, too autocratic, too caught up in

shoulds rather than coulds.

But what a man he was.

She lifted her chin as she and Ian

approached the guards. He greeted two

of them by name, and the rest edged

closer. One of them looked familiar to

Remy from her bounty hunting days with

Ian.

“Tell Hegelson I’m here,” her

companion said.

“Hegelson? What the hell would he

be doing here?” said a tall man with a

shaved head. He sneered.

Apparently, Ian knew better. “He’s

here. Tell him Ian Marck has what he

wants.”

“I remember you,” said one of the

men. He looked at Remy with disinterest

then turned his attention back to Ian.

“Hegelson doesn’t want to be disturbed.

He’s got other things on his mind. Until

ten o’clock tonight, that is.” His grin was

unpleasant.

Another of the guards jostled against

the man who’d recognized her. “That’s

the bitch Seattle had,” he muttered,

scratching his bald head. “Remember

her? I don’t think Hegelson’ll want to

tap that.”

Ian tensed next to her, reaching for

something, but Remy kept her eyes

coolly on the bald man. “Oh he’ll want

to see me,” she said. “I’m Remington

Truth.”

All the heads swiveled toward her,

and Remy knew she’d crossed the point

of no return. She might as well play it all

the way. “Get Hegelson out here or he’ll

never get the Mother crystal.”

Ian glanced down at her. She didn’t

bother to give him an apologetic look;

she’d seen no need to give him a play by

play of her intentions.

The men scrambled into action then,

with several rushing off toward an old

house—presumably

to

carry

the

message.

When the one who’d sneered at Ian

aimed his rifle at them, Remy said, “Put

it down. Did you not notice I came here

of my own volition? If you hurt me or

Ian, you’ll never get the crystal.”

“Oh, I have my ways of getting

information I need . . . whether it’s

offered freely or not so freely.” The

sneering man’s eyes were narrow and

predatory.

“That might be the case, but Hegelson

won’t appreciate it if either of us are in

no condition to give the information.

Trust me. He’s been looking for this for

fifty years. You don’t want to chance

fucking it up.”

He looked as if he wanted to say

something else, but a commotion behind

him drew his attention. The group of

guards parted to reveal a man whom

Remy instantly realized was Liam

Hegelson.

“Remington Truth,” he said as he

stepped forward. “And Ian Marck. How

fascinating.”

“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet

you, but, well, it’s not,” Remy told him.

She was damned proud of her strong,

steady voice. “I have no respect for a

man who would hold an entire city

hostage in order to get what he wants.”

Hegelson’s blue eyes gleamed. “A

man does what a man must do to gain his

freedom.”

“As does a woman.” Remy scraped

her attention over him, mustering up

every bit of disdain she could. She even

curled her lip—a move she’d learned

from Wyatt. “Which is why I’ve brought

you this.”

As she reached into the pocket of her

pretty blue sundress, Ian turned to her,

shock and dismay on his face. “No,

Remy,” he said, reaching for her arm.

“Don’t—”

A rifle suddenly at his throat choked

him off, and she looked at Sneering Man,

who seemed altogether too trigger

happy. “You’re overreacting,” she told

him. “And you’re being rude.” She

looked at Hegelson. “Tell them to back

off. All of them. Or this discussion is

over.”

Hegelson shrugged. “If the discussion

ends, the deadline is reinstated. Ten p.m.

and Envy is toast.”

Remy kept her smile cool. “Do you

really think I came out here willingly

without some contingency plan? I

haven’t evaded you and your goons for

twenty years by being a fool. Now tell

your minions to back off or I walk

away.”

She could feel Ian’s confusion and

tension next to her, but didn’t spare him

a glance. He’d played his games. She

could play hers.

Hegelson eyed her hand, which was

still thrust in her pocket, then gestured

for the guards to step back. “Disarm,” he

said.

Remy waited until the guards were a

good distance away before removing her

hand from her pocket. Her fingers were

closed, and Hegelson’s eyes went

directly to her fist. She could feel hunger

and greed vibrating from him, and it

confused her.

Did he not realize the Mother crystal

was deadly?

She held out her hand and opened it.

“What the hell is that?” Hegelson’s

face turned furious. “What is this?”

“This is the dead crystal from your

bounty hunter Lacey,” she said. She

glanced down at the eerie object in her

hand. It looked like a large gray sun

fashioned from granite. The center was a

stone, the stone that had protruded from

Lacey’s skin. But radiating from the

stone were a multitude of tiny arms or

rays that had grown like roots or veins

through Lacey’s body. When the crystal

was alive, it brought life and immortality

to the wearer.

But now . . . it was dead.

And Hegelson clearly recognized it.

“Consider this me doing you a

favor,” Remy said. “Lacey came in close

proximity to the Mother crystal and this

is what happened to her. She died within

minutes. Marley Huvane—yes, she’s

been here in Envy all this time—did the

same. If I give you the Mother crystal,

Liam, you won’t have it in your

possession for more than ten minutes and

you’ll be dead.”

“You expect me to believe this?”

Hegelson choked. “You’re even more

foolish than I thought. I—”

“We’ve already established how

foolish I’m not,” Remy said. “I came out

here in good faith to negotiate with you,

and by doing so, Liam . . . I’ve saved

your life. Now—”

A loud noise behind her drew his

attention, and Ian’s too. Remy looked

over her shoulder and her insides

dropped.

Striding toward them with smooth,

purposeful steps was Wyatt. He was

accompanied by Simon, Elliott, Quent,

and Fence, two of them flanking him on

either side.

For a moment Remy was struck by

the sight of them. They looked like a

group of superheroes or a team of

warriors: the cluster of five men,

powerful, filled with purpose and

beautiful in their strength.

As they approached, she tried to

catch Wyatt’s eye, but he was looking at

Ian, and then Hegelson.

“Who the hell are you?” demanded

the latter, gesturing for his guards.

“I’ve come to give you what you

want,” Wyatt said, holding out a

clenched fist. “The Mother crystal—”

“No!” Remy cried, shoving at his

arm. “What the hell are you doing?” She

spun on him. Why was he ruining

everything?

“The Mother crystal.” Hegelson

fairly licked his chops . . . but then with

a glance at Remy, he seemed to recall

her warning and stepped back several

yards. “You, Morris—you get it from

him.”

“No, Wyatt,” Remy said again, trying

to shove him out of the way. “I have this

under control,” she hissed between

clenched teeth, glaring up at him as she

tried not to cry. He was so solid, and

warm, and familiar, and she was
furious

with him . . . and yet . . . he was
here.

“You’re ruining everything!”

He looked down at her for the first

time. His cold eyes softened. “Trust

me,” he said.

She drew in her breath to argue, but

something in his expression . . .

something
new . . .
stopped her. The

clutch in her gut eased. And she stepped

away. “Fine,” she said, loud enough for

the others to hear. “Give him what he

wants.”

“Morris!” Hegelson ordered. “Take

the stone into custody.” He edged back

even more, the damn coward.

“Here it is,” Wyatt said, and to

Remy’s surprise and shock, he flung the

stone from his clenched fist.

As it arched through the air in a

glittering orange blaze, Ian and Hegelson

both gave involuntary cries and started

toward it. At the same time, Wyatt

grabbed Remy by the front of her dress

and yanked her toward him.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he

said, his eyes dark and filled with an

expression that made her insides flutter.

“Stay with me, Remy.” The next thing

she knew, he was kissing the living hell

out of her . . . and despite everything

going on around them, she had her arms

around his neck and was kissing him

back. Someone—it had to be Fence—

gave a gleeful whistle, and she heard the

low rumble of his chuckle.

But then she remembered where they

were and the situation they were in, and

she struggled out of Wyatt’s arms. “What

the hell—”

She stopped talking when she saw

what everyone around them was looking

at.

Not more than a hundred yards away

there was a column of . . . something.

Something shimmering, like heat waves

in the sun. Morris lay on the ground

nearby, struggling to pull himself to his

feet. Ian stood halfway between them

and the shimmering column, and it

wasn’t until he shifted to the side that

Remy saw the orange glow on the

ground.

“Is that . . . the Mother crystal?” she

murmured.

Wyatt nodded, sliding his arm around

her. “I told them they could have it,” he

said,

grinning.
Grinning.
Wyatt was

grinning.

Remy felt her insides explode into a

burst of warm, delicious butterflies. “So

you
can
smile,” she managed to say.

He looked down at her, that

devastating smile enough to make her

knees weak. Then it faded a little. “You

weren’t running away with Ian . . . you

were leaving
me
,” he said. “Weren’t

you?”

She frowned, uncertain what he was

trying to say. Dimly, she realized the

others had edged away, some toward the

shimmering orange crystal and others

toward the Humvees.

“I was setting you free,” she said, not

sure if it answered the question.

Regardless, it was the truth.

“And if I realized I didn’t want to be

free . . . ?”

“Then I wouldn’t be leaving.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Look,” he said, and pointed. She

saw the crowd of people around the

stone, but none of them could get close

enough to touch it. Even from where she

and Wyatt stood, she could see the heat

wavering, and fancied she could even

feel it. It was a stalemate. A checkmate.

“How long has it been like that?” she

asked.

“Since I tried to destroy it,” he told

her.

“What?

Wyatt,
no
.” Shocked and

horrified, she pulled away, but he was

shaking his head. “God, no, you

didn’t
—”

“I said ‘tried.’ ” He took her by the

shoulders and looked down at her with

sad brown eyes. “I thought I could do it

for you—to save you. But then I realized

. . . not only that I couldn’t, but that you

would never forgive me for doing it.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t want that,” she

said, her pounding heart settling.

“Never.”

“I know. And so I couldn’t do it. So I

got mad and threw it in the drawer next