Shepherd (3 page)

“You could give Regents a good name.” Her comment brought a quick frown to his features.

“The only thing I ask is that no else one knows. You have a life and choices.” He stared at her. “Does what I offer sound so awful?”

It sounded too incredible. “I keep waiting for the ax to fall.”

“I can understand, perhaps more than you know. How about trying it for now? Maybe we can begin with dinner?” He gestured toward the door. In spite of herself, she felt the dread diminish.

She could survive dinner.

Chapter 2

Esme had survived dinner that night, and every night since for several weeks. Not that ignoring Carley’s jibes or failing to stir Sinea in conversation was any fun. Yet she tried. Somehow, she sensed Ty’s other wives tried as well, if only for his sake. Oddly, none seemed to have any more of an intimate relationship with him than she did.

Perhaps a misjudgment on her part, for she had no idea what the sleeping arrangements were, and it did seem each woman showed up merely to please him. A strange conflict of attitudes, which she couldn’t reconcile. Ty engendered trust. While his other wives appeared to share the privilege with him, she wasn’t willing to trust without challenge.

The awkwardness at tonight’s dinner table landed her in the kitchen at midnight, searching for food. She’d been reluctant to eat, with Carley’s temper fouler than usual. A pending visit from the woman’s father had thrown the household into an uproar. Even Ty appeared distracted.

She shook out the kelp powder and cursed silently as she spilled more on herself than she managed to feed into the hydration cylinder.

At a creak from the wooden floorboards in the hallway, she froze. Heart beating loud enough to make listening difficult, she plastered herself against the crystal food energizing unit and then crept toward the hall.

Silence.

Carefully she peeked around the corner. The hallway was empty. Not even a retreating footstep gave any indication of a presence. Yet she had heard the creak and sensed someone there.

Three steps into the low light of the hall, she paused. A soft draft fluttered against the hair beneath her ear. Hands outstretched, she spun slowly and followed the current until her fingers found an uneven crease in the reinforced steel panels lining the walls. Support girders grounded the house to New Delphi’s city grid, providing structural support for the upper floors that ran the length and width of the house. This service hallway’s design didn’t disguise the girder’s location. The steel panels offered easy access for maintenance and pressure checks.

Beneath her fingers, the fissure opened. She dug deep and pulled. A whisper of steel echoed as the wall frame slid aside at her command. Swallowing hard, she scrutinized the outline of stairs descending into darkness. No, she couldn’t do this. Than a noise and a sparkle of light at the bottom bolstered her courage. Before she could reconsider, she stepped down. The door slid home behind her and solidified her decision to move forward.

Around the corner of the bottom step, she stopped and peeked again. Cloaked in a dark brown leather long-coat and matching calf-high boots, Ty moved forward, his dark braids and even skin tone blending in the dusky light with his outfit. He keyed in a sequence on a digital wall pad.

“Ebris.”

His word made no sense, but another panel slid free, and he disappeared without a backward glance.

One second of debate and Esme ran to the closing panel. She cursed as it slid shut.

Secrets. Manipulation and secrets. She should have known the illusion of safety was too perfect to be real. Now she would get down to the cold, hard reality.

Biting her lip, she glared at the panel and tapped her finger to her lips only to sputter and wipe the kelp powder onto her sleeve. Hmm. She pulled the edge of her sleeve, balled it in her fist, and gently brushed the panel. Delicate swipes of kelp powder dusted the surface. Standing back, she ran a quick calculation of the only four digits reflecting fingerprints. She’d seen his finger move, narrowing the combinations.

“Ha.” She laughed aloud on her second attempt, repeated his obscure password, and slipped through the open door onto a long steel catwalk that angled in a steep decline. Fear clutched her chest with the view of nothing but darkness. As her eyes adjusted, tiny neon dots lighted the way at her feet and air eased back into her lungs. She reached the end with no problem. Activated by the pressure of her feet on a steel pad at the walkway’s end, a final door slid open. The initial gust of air caused her to flinch, but she blinked back surprise and scrutinized the yards of thick black cables, steel girders, and reassuring pockets of light surrounding her. Metal pillars stretched for a hundred feet beneath her, with beams of steel spreading for thousands of yards in every direction.

Ty’s house had a hidden route to Down Below. Yet all entries and exits to Down Below were tightly monitored. How a Regent had sanctioned alteration to his house for the illegal access didn’t make her pause. She was just glad she had retained the habit of sleeping in her clothes and boots and picked up speed to catch Ty.

Five hundred yards along the walkway, her worry that she’d lost his trail mounted to panic until she finally spotted him. The mesh of his colors in the darkness would have gone unnoticed if he hadn’t chosen to climb down one of the support stairwells. The sway of his coattails flickered back and forth like wings on every rung.

Without hesitation, she ran to the top of the handholds. Easing into the wire cage, she grasped the center bar, waiting in the shadows, monitoring his direction as he finished his descent. She didn’t have time to climb down the whole set of rungs. That she would be arrested if found beneath the grid fazed her only for a second. There was plenty of room to run in Down Below, and she had spent her whole life on the run. Her potential arrest for the same crimes of espionage and betrayal as before gave her pause. But her marriage to yet another man who had lied to her and dragged her into danger forced her forward. Looping her leg around the center pole, she prepared to slide.

She wrapped her leather belt around her hand to provide some friction and grasped the pole. From her position, she could keep an eye on Ty’s progress as she slid. The leather protected her and offered traction to manage the descent, until the final fifteen feet when sweat caused her hand to slip free of the belt. Desperate to avoid the drop, she gripped the pole with a jarring wrench to her arm. Her bare skin created enough drag to slow her down, though the friction burned. The brutal crush of the ground against her knees and raw hands reverberated along every joint. At least she had stopped without breaking anything. She glanced around as she brushed dirt off her pants.

Mounds of broken steel and concrete rubble rose around her higher than she’d anticipated, obscuring any view of Ty’s last direction. She ran to catch up, cornering a steep tumble of bricks, only to skid to a halt before a wide circle of light. Open-air stalls decorated with a mishmash of neon lighting extended across a clearing filled with people. Ty was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, she retraced her path into Down Below’s darker recesses. A rusty squeak and clang of metal on metal drew her back several more yards. She had passed the opening—a thick, solid metal double gate. Wedged between two concrete pillars and several mounds of dirt and cement, only one wheel rim and the doors of an ancient transport truck breached the debris. She headed to a glint of light visible in the crack between the doors.

After a quick glance behind for other people, she sidled closer and looked inside.

Ty stood at the opposite end of the cargo section bent over open crates, inspecting their contents. After another quick check, she slipped through the opening in the doors to hide behind crates along the wall opposite him. From her new vantage point, she could keep an eye on him and the door.

Or so she had planned, until the door’s clang signaled she hadn’t been paying close enough attention. She stifled the urge to swear as the click and whiz of the mechanism confirmed a lock. Forcing slow breaths, she stared through a narrow slit between the crates of her hiding place. Ty glanced toward the shadows in her direction, but his gaze seemed to pass by her to another spot in front of her.

“The guards’ routine and timetable will be sent to you, Ebris. Once you have a plan, I’ll coordinate with team two.”

“I can handle the whole setup without you bringing in rookies. There’s less risk that way.”

The low, deep voice echoed around her as the second man moved to block most of her view. The wide back, muscled shoulders, and a shaggy mop of hair were a little too close for comfort. The dim lights from the ceiling depicted washed-out images around her and reflected his hair into variegated strands of grays and silver.

Puzzled, she waited. The new man’s tone and posture radiated more ease than the formal speech her late husband, Ivan, had presented when dealing with mercenaries. Ebris challenged Ty like a friend, not that she understood that type of relationship well. She’d never had a friend. Certainly, Ivan hadn’t had any.

“I want you to stay background on this. Provide distraction and oversight with no direct participation until the end,” said Ty.

“Coddling me? My injuries have healed, Vier.”

Ebris shifted, giving Esme a better view of both men.

“No one else gets experience if you keep hogging the lion’s share of the work.” Ty flipped a small box to Ebris. “It’s a new diffuser for the medical supply deliveries—should keep the Regent teams from scanning or detecting their contents.”

She lost track of Ty for a moment, then shrank closer to the crate as he reappeared, his hand poised on the security panel for the door. He paused without turning around. “Your estimate still two weeks?”

“Give or take twenty-four hours. We need time to force the change of protocols in the lockdown’s security, find a way to instigate a shake-up, and provision a fallback in case Aaron’s not willing to come with us.”

“Good. I’ll be out of town for several days, but I’ll be back in time.” Ty activated the pad with his palm. “Let’s hope he’s still there when the plan comes together.”

“Kid’s tough.”

Ebris’s words, delivered to empty space, were more of a prayer than a reassurance. He moved, leaving her a view of more crates and the far wall of the trailer. She clenched her fingers, waiting for him to follow Ty and leave.

“Come out with your hands high, and I’ll kill you quickly.”

Esme couldn’t quite swallow her gasp as Ebris’s shadow cut off the light from her exit. He faced her, laser cannon pointed at her head. Shock that he knew she was there all along warred with his dictate to come closer.

“I wasn’t kidding. To the count of five or I shoot. One. Two.” He paused, and her feet moved until her gaze took in the metallic patch over one of his eyes. “Five.”

A burst of light, a quick sizzle of pain in her chest—both took hold simultaneously. Unable to react, she dropped to the floor. A fleeting thread of satisfaction whipped through her as his eyes widened at the sight of her. Too little, too late, the darkness closed in.

***

Clay scrubbed his hands over his face. It didn’t help. He had shackled her, blindfolded her, and locked her in the containment room in his facility, and still he couldn’t get the woman from his mind. What the hell was he supposed to do with her? He sure as hell couldn’t let her screw up this mission. With Ty gone, he would be better off just keeping her on ice.

He tried to focus on the three screens before him and punched in a command.

Of the Regent Black Guards, the most formidable and soulless were the Regents’ personal assassins, referred to in whispers as the Sicaria. They maintained visible facilities and grounds at the edges of the New Delphi grid and covert locations connected to the grid’s underbelly. The Sicaria’s point-of-no-return for their victims was the Pit, beneath the Justice Building. The irony of the site’s name and location wasn’t lost on any inhabitant of Down Below.

Real-time images of all the Black Guard sites displayed across his screen. Enhanced personnel images flew past, his recognition metrics cataloging every face against a rendering of Aaron’s facial structure.

Wherever they were holding Sicaria Squad 5, none of the team members had shown up outside the guard barracks above ground since their arrival a week ago at the helopad.

The memory of shocked golden eyes, laced with thick coal lashes, interrupted his thought process.

Damn it.

He should contact Ty about her and be done with it. At least once Ty returned. Of course, then Clay would have to submit to whatever decision Ty reached about the woman’s fate. Truthfully, he would have a problem killing her. He would have a problem killing anyone anymore.

His own forced labor for the Regents stuck in his craw, creating a sharp disconnect between the life he could now live and the one he couldn’t forget. His rescue by Ty only reinforced his need for a clearly justified termination of anyone’s life. While she had obviously followed Ty and had exposure to their information, Clay would have a problem torturing her for her secrets.

He’d gone soft. Five years running covert missions and hiding behind technology in the Down Below of New Delphi had allowed him to shed the calloused exterior he’d needed to serve in the Regent Border Guard of the United Canadian Territories.