Born of Fire (10 page)

“I borrowed some money from a friend and paid off Tessa’s debt with those loaners—you should have told me what happened. I hate learning shit like this from her boyfriend of all people. You know, I am a grown-up. Really. I can even pull my boots on by myself and everything nowadays. But don’t worry. I promise I’ll think up some way to pay the hospital and transfer you
the money as soon as I can. I also left a few credits in Mom’s trinket box for you. Don’t pay no bills with it. Buy some food. You’re too damned skinny. I’ll see you when I get back. Love you much.”

Shahara glanced over her shoulder. Syn quickly looked away. She turned off her machine and opened the channel. “Kase, he’s off on sabbatical to pout.”

“That’s what I figured. As long as I know he’s all right, I guess I’m not too upset. I’ll see you later.”

Shahara turned off the link and moved back to the laptop. “Did you get an earful?” she asked testily.

Syn sighed. No wonder Caillen had needed almost six thousand credits. “Look, if you need a loan—”

She curled her lip. “Not from the likes of you. If you want a prostitute you can—”

He held his hand up in disgust. “It was an offer made in good faith.”
Gods, she was impossible.
“I wouldn’t expect any payment other than cash when you have it.”

Her eyes snapped golden flames at him. Her breast heaved with the fury of her temper. Damn, she was beautiful when pissed . . .

Syn took a step back, afraid of the thoughts in his head. He must be crazy. She wanted no part of him, and most especially not
that
part of him, and he was damned glad of it.

“Just recant the contract and I’m out of here.”

“Fine.” She pulled up the bounty lists. With the swipe of her stylus, she deleted her name.

Syn’s temper cooled a bit as he saw that one of his threats had been removed. He handed her the Seax dagger. “Now I want you to swear on this that you’ll never stalk me again.”

Furious hatred burned in her eyes. She gripped the dagger. “I swear. Blood oath. I will never hunt you again.”

Inwardly Syn cringed as she brought her hand away and he saw the blood where she’d cut herself. The doctor in him wanted to tend her wound, but he knew she wouldn’t take anything from him willingly and he wasn’t one to push himself where he wasn’t wanted.

He handed her the rest of her gear and walked out.

Somehow it was the longest walk of his life as he closed her water-damaged door and stepped out into the low-rent district of her city.

Gah, that she had to live here, like this.

“What is wrong with me?” He had enough problems of his own; why did he care about her and her bills?

It was his loyalty to Caillen, he decided. Tessa was his sister, too.

Shahara stared at her screen, her heart hammering. There was nothing that could pay even close to what she still needed to keep Tessa in the hospital.

I have four hours
. . .

An image of her dying mother played through her mind as she saw her lying on the hospital bed. Her mother had fought so valiantly, but in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

I don’t want to leave you, Shay. I’m so sorry that I won’t be here for you. Please take care of your brother and sisters for me. I know it’s a hard thing I ask, but I have faith in you to keep them safe.

“I can’t do it anymore, Mom,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She was so tired of all this responsibility. She just wanted one day where she didn’t go to bed at night with a panic attack and one morning where she didn’t wake up with a knot in her stomach as she feared what trouble her siblings would be in before sunset.

An image of Tessa dying tore through her.

Syn’s bounty pays enough
. . .

I gave my word.

Her gaze fell to the picture she had in a frame by her computer. It was them as kids. Caillen was only five and they were holding on to each other, smiling bright.

She reached out and touched Tessa’s beautiful face.

The promise to her mother was much more important than an oath made to a convict.

I hate myself for this
. . .

Picking up her link, she did the one thing she knew was wrong and hoped that, in time, she’d be able to forgive herself.

Hours later, Syn smiled as he turned off his laptop. He felt better than he had in a long time. Of course Shahara would want his head once she found out what he’d done, but it didn’t matter.

What he did felt right.

Now, he could finally get some sleep.

Yawning, he started toward his bedroom.

A loud knock thundered on his door. Only a handful of people knew where he lived, and out of them only Caillen knocked like that. He must have returned early and found out what he’d done. No doubt he was pissed.

Without checking the corridor vid, Syn turned off his scanner and opened the door.

It wasn’t Caillen.

Son of a.
. . . It never failed.
Every time your defenses drop, you get screwed.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Uriah Merjack, the Ritadarion Chief Minister of Justice, sneered.

Syn cursed. He started to pull his blaster out, but the
sight of forty Ritadarion enforcers in full body armor with weapons pointed at his heart, head, and chest kept him from suicide. Red targeting dots danced over his body, letting him know exactly where they’d be shooting if he tried to escape, and it wasn’t pretty.

This had to be a nightmare. There was no way they could have found him here. None.

The lease wasn’t even in his name. It was in Nykyrian’s.

Syn swallowed, praying he’d wake up.

He didn’t.

And when one of the enforcers came forward and slammed him into a wall he knew it was real enough. Every bit as real as the throbbing pain along his cheekbone and shoulder.

Wrenching his arms behind him, the guard cuffed his wrists together.

Merjack grabbed him by his hair and pulled him around to face him. His fat jowls shook from his laughter as the ugly bastard beamed in satisfaction. Too bad age hadn’t been kinder to him.

Then again, youth hadn’t been all that kind to him either.

“I’ve waited a long time to find you, rat. Now you’re going to wish to God you had cooperated with me the first time.”

Too stunned to think, Syn could do nothing but stare at the intense hatred in the Minister’s eyes. He knew the truth about Merjack’s past and he was more than sure Merjack would make good his threat.

The demonic laughter continued to fill his ears. Merjack turned and faced one of his soldiers. “Get him out of here. We have a long interrogation ahead of us.”

That he did, ’cause Syn wasn’t about to give him what he wanted. If he did, the Minister would kill him.

Uriah Merjack stared menacingly at Syn, wishing to all that was holy he knew some way to break him.

As soon as they’d brought Syn into the sterile interrogation room on Ritadaria, he’d been completely stripped while they searched his entire body for weapons and contraband. Every single cavity. One could never be too careful when dealing with a man as crafty as this one had proven to be.

Satisfied that Syn had no way to fight back, Uriah had then ordered him secured to an interrogation table.

That had been nine hours ago. In that time Uriah had tried every device of torture known to them: mind probes, electrodes, orifice probes, serums.

Finally they’d decided to dispense with the table, and use a more primitive means of inducement. Securing his hands above his head with a chain and his feet with manacles, Syn was held against the wall while they tried to beat and torture the information out of him.

The light gray wall, as well as all of them, was splattered with his blood.

Still he wouldn’t break. Damn him! He wouldn’t even honor their efforts with a scream or pleading.

There was only one other person Uriah had ever come across with that kind of fortitude. “Just like a damned Wade,” he breathed under his breath.

The warden, Traysen, turned toward him. “What was that, sir?”

Uriah shook his head at the prison warden, who had overheard his mumbling. “Nothing.” He faced the interrogator who was showing signs of the same frustration.
Neither of them was used to dealing with someone
this
damned stubborn. Most people broke within half an hour. The longest anyone had lasted to date was three.

Except for Idirian Wade . . .

Uriah looked at the interrogator. “What other means are left to us?”

The interrogator, a beefy man in his mid-forties who had the best reputation for inducing pain in the known worlds, shrugged. “Sir, I’ve tried everything. If you give me a little time to do research, I might find some ancient forms that could prove beneficial. But at this point . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Uriah clenched his teeth in aggravation. Of course not—because let’s face it, the rat held the key to his survival while the other criminals had only been nuisances. If they didn’t get this bastard to break, Uriah
and
his son would be rotting in a cell next to him.

So why should this go easy?

Crossing the floor, he grabbed Syn’s hair and wrenched his head back. Blood poured from a cut above one eye and out of his nose and mouth. “Tell me where the chip is, rat.”

“Still on the old block?”

Furious at yet another smart-ass retort, he kidney-punched him.

Tensing with the blow, Syn sucked his breath in between his bloodied teeth and grimaced. “Who taught you to hit? Your grandmother?” He narrowed that demented dark glare on him. “The only person you’re going to scare with that is a three-year-old girl.”

Just as he drew back to hit him again, Uriah’s son stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

Tall and slender with short brown hair, Jonas pushed Uriah back a step, then moved to brush bloody strands of hair off Syn’s face. “I know this has to be killing you. Literally and figuratively. Why not save all of us a great deal of trouble and just tell us where you stashed it?”

Syn smiled coldly, displaying a mouth full of bloody teeth. Did they really think he was dumb enough to answer that? If he gave them that chip, he was dead.

As long as he was alive, he stood a chance of escaping.

But gods, he was tired and he hurt so bad . . . Even blinking burned. No part of him had been left unviolated or undamaged.

No, not true. They hadn’t assaulted him where it really mattered.

Only his ex-wife and son could hit him there.

All Merjack and crew did was hit him on the surface, and that he could take. It felt like a typical weekend night when his dad had been on a bender and feeling particularly vicious. If they thought they could break him with these puny attempts, they had a lot to learn.

Only his father had ever reduced him to tears.

And his son.

No, this was nothing . . . just like him.

Syn laughed at Jonas’s pathetic offer. “Why don’t you try checking up your—”

Uriah punched him again. Pain exploded as he felt his ribs shift.

“Father, please!” Jonas snapped. “We mustn’t kill him. Not yet.”

The interrogator cleared his throat and addressed Jonas. “Lord President, it may be too late for that, sir. His injuries are extensive.”

Jonas looked at Uriah, his brows drawn together in
concern. “We must stop this and allow him to recover before we begin questioning him again.”

Oh goody . . . What a great kindness on their part.
He couldn’t wait.

Uriah nodded in agreement. Syn’s death without that chip was useless to them. Anyone could find it. Anyone could have it. And now that Syn was up against rape and murder charges on Gouran, it was more than likely he would trade the chip to the Overseer of Justice for amnesty or at least a lighter sentence.

God help them then.

They had to have that chip!

The little bastard could ruin them and be damned if he’d lose his life and position to something as low as a Wade.

He looked at the guards and the interrogator before he replaced Syn’s muzzle—it wouldn’t do to have him talk to anyone but them. “Take him to solitary and keep him there until I say otherwise.”

The three guards unchained Syn from the wall.

Instead of falling down like a normal person, somehow he managed to stay standing as they cuffed his hands behind his back.

Syn’s strength awed him.

And before they led him away, Syn cast him a cold, evil glare that was all too familiar. One that made the hair on the back of his neck rise in fear.

But then what had he expected? Syn was the son of Idirian Wade—the sickest, most lethal criminal to have ever been conceived.

And Wades didn’t buckle easily.

Jonas turned to face him. His blue eyes mirrored the same fears and concerns Uriah had. “What are we going to do, Father?”

“Relax, Jonas. You are one of the most powerful leaders in the United Systems. Fretting doesn’t become you.”

“Neither does a public trial and execution.”

“I can control him.”

Jonas shook his head. “That’s what you said when he was merely a child. If you couldn’t break him then, what the hell makes you think you can break him twenty-three years later? We have to have that chip! I’ve come too far to have some gutter rat bring me down now.”

Uriah ran his hand across his jaw. Wades weren’t really gutter rats. They were sharks. And if one didn’t watch one’s leg, it would be painfully cut off.

Along with other things.

Still, he hadn’t known Syn was a Wade the first time around. Now he was prepared. After all, he’d been the one to bring Syn’s father to trial and execution. A feat that had earned him the honor and gratitude of all governments.

He knew what to expect from Syn now.

“As I said, I’m in control of the situation. I will think of a way to break him. Don’t worry.” Even as he said the words, Uriah couldn’t suppress the memory of Idirian Wade’s execution.

Wade had walked into the termination booth without fear or remorse. Never in his life had he seen anyone so calm.

So purely evil.