Poison Promise
Page 30

If I ever truly could.
Bria drew in a breath, squared her shoulders, and finally looked me in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice. “For all of this. I should have done things differently. I should have let you know what was going on from the very beginning, when Benson killed Max. I shouldn’t have pushed Catalina to testify, and I shouldn’t have said all those terrible things to you and everyone else at Northern Aggression.”
“You did what you thought was right.”
Guilt pinched her lips. “But you’re my sister, and you know just as much about this world as I do. More, really, because you’ve lived in it longer. I should have listened to you. I wanted to listen to you. I hope you know that. It’s just that every time I thought about Max and what Benson did to him . . .” She trailed off. “I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t let him get away with it. Not when I’d promised Max that I would protect him, that I’d keep him safe, and he died because I didn’t keep my word.”
“Max didn’t die because you didn’t keep your word. He died because he got in too deep.”
She shook her head, her blond hair flying around her shoulders. “That’s not how it feels to me.”
I didn’t say anything. Nothing I could say would lessen her guilt. Not about this. Not now, maybe not ever.
She let out a bitter laugh. “And do you know what the worst part is? I almost did the exact same thing to Catalina. I told her that I could protect her too, and look what happened. Benson and his men almost killed us on that bridge. They would have killed us, if not for you.”
Bria stared down at her hands again, which were clasped together so tightly that her fingers were white from the strain. The tension made the drops of blood on her skin stand out that much more. “And then I would have had an innocent girl’s blood on my hands, just like Max’s is already on there.”
I leaned over and took her hands in mine. “You’re a cop, Bria. You were just doing your job. You were trying to bring a bad guy to justice. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Her lips twisted into a grimace. “There is when you lose focus, when you lose control. And that’s exactly what I did with Benson. Xavier was right. I was so desperate to take Benson down that I lost track of everything else, and it has cost me so much. Roslyn was held hostage, and I pushed Finn away. Xavier and I are on shaky ground, Catalina is still in shock, and you . . .” Bria’s voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “I don’t even want to think about what Benson did to you.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I quipped. “At least the chair was comfortable.”
A laugh escaped from her lips before she could stop it. But the faint chuckle didn’t keep two tears from streaking down her face.
“I almost got you killed. I’ll never forgive myself for that, Gin. Or for the things I said to you at Northern Aggression. And I know that you won’t either.”
I remembered all the terrible thoughts I’d had about her while I’d been flying high on Burn. More guilt and shame rippled through me. Bria wasn’t the only one who’d never forgive herself. But as much as I hated to admit it, being force-fed that drug had given me a better understanding of my sister. She’d been hurt and helpless over Max’s murder, and she’d lost control and lashed out as a result—just like I had when I’d been tripping on Burn.
“Gin?” Bria asked.
I shook my head. “We had a fight. It’s what sisters do. It sucks, and we both hurt each other, but we’ll get through it—together. The important thing is not to let it linger, not to let the hurt feelings, sharp words, and bitter accusations fester. If I were in your position and Benson had killed one of my informants, I would have reacted in the exact same way. Actually, I would have been worse. I probably would have marched over to his mansion, knocked on his front door, and buried my knife in his heart the second he said hello.”
Bria laughed again. “And that is exactly what makes you you. No matter what, you always protect the people you love. And I didn’t do that. Not today. Not for a long time now.”
More tears trickled down her cheeks. The salty drops slid off her chin and spattered onto her primrose rune, smearing the bloodstains on the silverstone.
I stared at her rune, the symbol for beauty. “You know, a wise old man once told me that everyone makes mistakes from time to time.”
“Fletcher?”
I nodded. “And he was right. You made some mistakes. We all have, by not listening to each other. But you’re lucky—we’re lucky—in that you still have a chance to fix them.”
She gave me a wry smile. “And how do I do that?”
“You find a way to take down Benson and keep Catalina safe. With some help from me, of course.”
Bria threaded her fingers through mine. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I squeezed her hand tightly. “And neither would I.”
24
Bria and I were still holding hands, enjoying the easy quiet between us, when another person opened the door and entered the stateroom—a dwarf wearing a string of pearls and a pink dress patterned with large white roses.
Jolene “Jo-Jo” Deveraux marched over to the bed, planted her hands on her hips, and stared at me with a critical gaze, her clear eyes almost devoid of color except for her black pupils. She clucked her tongue at my sorry state and shook her head, although the motion didn’t so much as ruffle a single one of her perfect, white-blond curls.
“Sorry I haven’t been in to see you before now, darling,” she said. “But I had to wait until that nasty drug was completely out of your system.”
“No worries. It only hurts when I breathe.”
Jo-Jo let out a hearty laugh, then went into the bathroom to wash her hands. Bria got up, and Jo-Jo came back out and took her seat next to the bed, scooting the chair even closer to me. The dwarf’s eyes began to glow a pale, milky white, as did the palm of her hand as she brought her Air magic to bear. She leaned forward, and a series of invisible pins and needles began to stab their way up and down my body. Air elementals like Jo-Jo used oxygen and all the other natural gases in the air to clean out infected wounds, mend broken bones, and stitch up ripped skin.
Feeling myself being put back together again was never pleasant, especially since Jo-Jo’s Air magic was the opposite of my own Ice and Stone power. The dwarf using her magic on me in any way would never seem right, just as being around my power when I was actively using it would never sit well with her.
But what made it worse today was how much it reminded me of Benson.
The pins-and-needles sensation made me think of the phantom sandpaper I’d noticed when Benson had murdered Troy and then again when he’d been reaching out, trying to feel my emotions in Northern Aggression and in his lab. Even though Jo-Jo would never use her magic like that, would never, ever hurt me, a low warning snarl rumbled out of my throat.
“Gin?” Bria asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said through gritted teeth, my fingers twisting in the silk sheets. “Do me a favor and distract me. Tell me about Silvio. How did he help you?”
“It was all his idea,” she said. “After Catalina and I made it to Xavier’s car, I didn’t want to leave you behind, but some vamps rolled up in an SUV, and Xavier had to floor it to get away from them. Xavier and I had just gotten to the riverboat with Catalina when Silvio texted me. I had no idea how he had my number, but he told me that Benson had captured you and that he had a plan to help you escape. I didn’t believe him, but Catalina told me that he was her uncle and that he was telling the truth. Silvio told me how to get past the guards to make it to that patio and said that he would be there waiting with you. He said that jumping off the bridge into a boat would be the quickest way to get you away from Benson, and he was right.”
She sighed. “I wish he would have come with us. Benson’s probably killed him by now.”
I had my doubts about that, but another uncomfortable wave of Jo-Jo’s magic sweeping through my body kept me from answering. It took the dwarf another five minutes before she leaned back and released her hold on her magic. The white glow faded from her hand and her eyes.
“There, darling,” Jo-Jo said. “Good as new.”
I flopped back against the pillows, panting for breath, sweat streaming down my face. But slowly, the memory of Jo-Jo’s magic faded away, and I moved my arms and legs. Just like she said, everything felt brand-new, including my previously shattered ankle.
I could have lain there and drifted off to sleep, but I forced myself to sit upright. “I need that bag, the one that was tied to my arm when you rescued me.”
Bria frowned, but she went over, grabbed the bag from where it had been sitting on a coffee table, and brought it over to me. I ripped through the plastic. My knives lay inside, along with my spider rune ring, but I was more concerned about what was in the very bottom of the bag: the black leather-bound book that Silvio had slipped inside.
I pulled the book out and started flipping through it. And I realized that it wasn’t a book so much as it was a ledger, one that chronicled Benson’s entire drug operation.
The first half of the ledger was gibberish, at least to me. Chemical compounds, formulas, and equations for Benson’s drug cocktails. I quickly flipped past those sections.
The back half of the book was much more interesting, featuring rows of columns, numbers, and, most important of all, names—names of everyone who bought drugs from or sold them to Benson. They were even ranked, in terms of how much money they made or cost the vampire.
I recognized many of the names, including some of the other underworld bosses like Lorelei Parker and Ron Donaldson. The ledger was practically a who’s who of bad folks in Ashland. I flipped to the very back and the most recent entries. I scanned down the rows of names of Benson’s drug suppliers until I found the one I was looking for.
“What’s that?” Jo-Jo asked.
“Insurance.” I repeated what Silvio had said to me in the lab, and I finally realized why he’d given me the ledger. “Benson won’t kill Silvio. Not yet. By now, he will have realized that Silvio slipped me this. He’ll want to know what I plan to do with his little black book before he kills Silvio.”
I snapped the ledger shut, then looked at Bria. “What do you say we mount another rescue mission? You and me together this time.”
Her smile matched the one on my face.
•
We worked out the rough outlines of our plan, although Bria insisted that we wait until the morning to implement it. I didn’t want Silvio to be tortured like I had been, but it was already too late for that. I just had to hope that he could hold on until we could save him. Besides, I wanted to be at full strength when I faced Benson again, and my body still needed time to recover from all the trauma it had been through today.
My mind and heart too.
Jo-Jo and Bria left so I could relax, but I was too restless to drift off to sleep, so I threw back the covers, padded into the bathroom, and took a long, hot shower to wash the lemony stench of Benson’s lab off me, if not the memories from my mind.
Unfortunately, those would linger for a long, long time to come.
I wrapped a towel around my body and stepped back out into the stateroom to find Owen sprawled across one of the couches, staring at a muted football game on the TV. He straightened up and turned off the TV.
“Hey,” he said. “Jo-Jo sent me on in. I’ve been waiting out here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
He’d been giving me some quiet time to myself, time to process all the horrible things that had happened and bury them deep down where no one would ever see them. My heart swelled with love for him. Owen was so good about giving me the space I needed. But I was tired of being hurt and heartsick and reliving the horrors that Benson had visited upon me. Right now, I wanted—I needed—to feel something good, something strong, something real and more powerful than anything Benson could ever do to me.
Owen.
“Gin?” he asked, getting to his feet. “Are you all right? Do you want me to get Jo-Jo?”
Instead of answering him, I went over to the door and threw the lock. I didn’t want anyone interrupting this. I sashayed back over to Owen, stopping in front of him. I kept my gray gaze on his violet one as I loosened the towel and let it drop to the floor.
Appreciation and desire sparked in his eyes, but Owen hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I replied in a husky whisper. “I don’t want to think about Benson or anything else but you for the rest of the night.”
Owen reached for me, but I put my hand on his chest and backed him over to the bed. He reached for me again, but I kept him at arm’s length as I unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants. He stepped back long enough to shed his clothes and grab a condom from his wallet. I took my little white pills, but we always used extra protection. He reached for me a third time, and I finally let his arms encircle me.
For a while, we just stood there, our foreheads touching, our breath mingling together, my hands resting on his broad shoulders, even as his fingers stroked up and down my back in light nonsense patterns. Then I stepped forward, and we both eased down onto the bed together.
Sensing my need for control, Owen lay back and let me explore his body. I kissed him gently, teasing my tongue against his, stoking the fire that always burned between us. For a long time, that’s all I did. But then my kisses grew bolder, harder, and longer, and my hands began to wander. I lifted my lips from Owen’s and kissed my way down his body, starting with the crooked tilt to his nose before moving to the scar that slashed across his chin and then down to his muscled chest. Eventually, my lips, tongue, and hands slid even farther down, exploring his hard length.