Born of Fire (9 page)

He looked over his shoulder and captured her gaze with his own. Something strange and primal darkened his eyes before they turned dead.

“My father,” he said simply.

Shahara bit her lip while Syn returned to tending his wound. She glanced away as he picked up a searer to seal the wound closed and did her best not to hear the sizzle of knitting flesh. She knew from her own experience how bad that hurt. To do it to himself . . . she was impressed.

And appalled.

Still she saw those scars. What could he have possibly done for his father to have beaten him so ferociously? “Did you deserve it?”

Syn tossed the searer down, then moved to stand right before her. She could feel his body heat, smell the masculine scent of his skin, and even though she was sure she imagined it, she could almost swear she heard his heart pound in fury.

She trailed her gaze up from the steely muscles of his chest to the bandage over his shoulder and finally up to the loathing that flickered in the black depths of his eyes. They were every bit as cold as space.

“Why else would he have beaten me?”

The question hung in the air between them and it left a deafening silence. She didn’t know anything about his past except what the contracts read and what his prayer box contained, which wasn’t much. There was no family of record. No known acquaintances or friends.

He worked part-time for The Sentella, which was a freelance assassin service run by Nemesis—one of the most feared and wanted outlaw assassins in the business. But the bounty hadn’t even listed his job title there.

For all she knew,
he
could be Nemesis.

Or something worse.

So maybe he had deserved it. Maybe he’d been given his name because he’d been evil from the womb and
his father had sought to curb his criminal impulses by beating them out of him at an early age.

And yet . . .

She saw the image of the beaten child. The boy Syn had looked frightened, not evil. “What did you do to deserve it?”

He paused while returning his medical instruments to their case. Without looking at her, he said quietly, “I tried to keep him from selling my sister’s virginity.”

A lump of emotions gathered into her throat and choked her. The loyalty of his action reminded her much of her own brother. Caillen would die to protect her.

Syn tossed his torn shirt into the garbage, then moved past her, into the bedroom.

She continued to stare at the scars on his back. Could a boy who took such a beating for the sake of another person become the menace of Syn’s reputation?

Some psychologists would say no. It was people who’d lost their ability to sympathize with others, to care for others, who turned into rapists and murderers.

Still, it wasn’t beyond the realm of speculation that he
could
be capable of committing those heinous crimes. Many serial killers and rapists had close friends and spouses who had never suspected they possessed such deep psychosis.

A man didn’t have so lethal a reputation without cause . . .

Until she knew more, she had no choice except to believe in what his bounty sheet said:
C.I. Syn, Ruthless and Calculating. Kills without remorse. Proceed at own risk.

She’d risked a great deal to come after him and time was running out for Tessa. She’d botched this mission and needed something to get the money for her sister
before it was too late. “So how long are you going to keep me here?”

Syn tucked his clean shirt into his pants. “Until you recant your contract on me and swear that you’ll never again stalk me.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she frowned at him. “You’d trust me that easily?”

“Hell no,” he said with a sneer. “The only thing I trust in life is to get fucked over by everyone around me. But if I ever hear of you coming after me again, I’ll deliver your brother to you in a box.”

Shahara went cold in dread. All too well she could see her brother’s lifeless form—it was a vision that had haunted her most of her life. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” He moved to tower over her. He put one arm up on each side of her, pinning her back against the wall. She trembled at his nearness, at the raw male power that emanated from every pore of his body.

“I’m a cold-blooded murderer. Remember?” He raked her with an evil grin. “Believe me, baby, I
am
ruthless and I love nothing more than the taste of blood. Yours. His. Anyone’s. I’m not particular.”

Outraged, she lunged for him.

No one threatened her family! No one!

Syn caught her hands and pushed her back against the wall, his chest pressing against hers. She stared up at him, wishing she could break his hold and tear him apart. Even so, she refused to be intimated or threatened by something like him. “So help me, convict, if you ever touch a member of my family, I’ll come for you. There’s no hole in hell you can find that would be deep enough to hide you from my wrath.”

He scoffed, then released her. “Take a number.”

She rubbed her numb wrists and glared at him. No matter the personal cost, she would protect her family. Oaths and morals be damned.

“When are you going to free me?”

He shrugged. “Now’s as good as any time.”

Her anger drained from her. She blinked, not really sure it’d be that easy to leave.

C.I. Syn, Ruthless and Calculating.
Was this a trick of his to get her out of his apartment so that he could kill her and dump her body more easily?

The thought was sobering.

“I can go right now?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yep. I’ll take you home, and as soon as I see you recant the contract, you’re free.”

Oh yeah, right . . . like she’d make
that
mistake. “Take you to my home so that you can see where I live? How stupid do you think I am?”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “You have a rundown, piece-of-shit condo at 3642 Chiton Road, in Gareth Square on Boudran. Your ship, which is older than I am, is licensed through Guidry and Associates and has two liens against it. You pay nine hundred credits a month to keep them from seizing it for back taxes and you’re still paying off your father’s debts, including his funeral cost.”

He paused to give her a mocking glare. “You want I should go on? Remember, I’m one of the best filches to ever live. There’s not a damned thing I can’t find out online about you or anyone else no matter how off the grid you think you are. And I learned all that about you without even trying hard. I can also give you your social and that for all three of your siblings as well as
most of the passwords and codes you use to log in to everything in your life and theirs.”

A chill went down her spine. What had she gotten herself into? With that kind of information, he could ruin and kill her.

She only had one hope even if it did grate on her nerves. “I’m supposed to believe that you’ll take me home and leave me there without killing me?”

Again that taunting, evil smile. “I would swear on it, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t take me at my word. Believe what you will, but really you have no choice. So answer quick before I reconsider.”

She ground her teeth at his offer, hating the fact that he was right. She couldn’t stand being manipulated, especially by a convict. But what choice did she have other than to believe him?

Don’t be stupid, girl. The only thing you can trust is that people will screw you over if given the chance. It’s every man for himself.

Everyone lies.

Even her own father . . .

“What about my weapons?” she asked at last.

“Wait for me in the front room, and I’ll get them. You can have them back once we get to your place.”

Shahara wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of having him in her home.

If only she had another way to get free . . . But, unfortunately, he had her trapped fully, and even when she’d shot him he hadn’t budged.

Time was running out for Tessa. She had to get out of here. She’d already wasted an entire day. Only two were left. Would that be enough time to find another bounty that would cover the cost?

Well, if you hand him in, he won’t be able to hurt Caillen.

Or would he?

He’d escaped prison before. What would keep him from doing it again? Vengeance was a strong motivator. She of all people knew that. And every molecule in her body warned her that Syn was capable of extracting a painful revenge.

First, she needed her weapons. Second, her freedom.

Without a word, she turned around and left him.

Syn sighed at her stormy exit. He didn’t really care whether or not she hated him, only that she give up her quest to see him incarcerated. He’d spent enough time in prison, he had no desire to spend another second of his life like that.

He winced as old memories stung deep.
So what do we do with him? No one will take him into foster care. Not after his father’s crimes. They’re all scared of him.

Put him in prison with the rest of the criminals. He might as well get used to it as it’s mostly likely where he’ll spend the rest of his life anyway.

The kicker was, they hadn’t even put him in a juvenile facility. At age ten, and for no other crime than the fact he’d been born his father’s son, he’d been thrown in maximum security with adults.

All because his father was a bastard and people were so afraid of him that Syn was every bit as guilty because he shared a genetic link to a psychotic bastard.

Yeah, he was tired of being judged for something he couldn’t help.

Shahara was as guilty as the rest and right now, he couldn’t think of anything sweeter than getting her the hell out of his home so that he could get some well-deserved sleep.

He opened the safe, his arm throbbing in protest. She was a lethal lorina and the sooner he expelled her from his life, the better off he’d be.

Shahara spun about as the door opened. A smile of relief curved her lips as she recognized her gear in Syn’s arms.

Could it be possible that he really intended to let her go? She couldn’t believe it.

Don’t get excited yet. It could still be a trick.

Stiffening her spine, she promised herself to stay alert and, if he did try something, she’d be ready for it.

“Here.” He tossed her a worn, leather jacket.

She caught it against her body and frowned. “What’s this?”

He shrugged. “It’s cold outside. You’ll need it.”

Shahara frowned at the dichotomy of the man. How could he be so cruel one moment, then thoughtful the next?

Not caring about that answer, she was going home and that was all that mattered.

Soon Tessa would be safe, too.

Syn stifled his disgust at Shahara’s condo. Though clean, it was as rundown as anything he’d ever seen. The locks on the door were about a hundred years old and he was sure they’d collapse under the stress of even a medium breeze. A faded, old sofa had been set against one overly patched gray wall, and a tattered blue blanket covered the numerous tears in its upholstery. It looked like she’d recycled it from a landfill.

Nothing but a sheet strung up on a line separated the bedroom from the rest of the place. He hated that anyone had to live this way, but then, he remembered a
time when he would have sold his soul to have this much to call home.

Ignoring him, Shahara moved to the chipped kitchen counter along the wall opposite of the sofa and turned on her laptop. Before she could type in her code, her link buzzed.

At first, she ignored it.

“Shay, this is Kasen. Please pick up if you’re home.”

Syn frowned at Kasen’s anxious voice, wondering what trouble she was in now.

Shahara glanced up at him sheepishly before opening the channel. “Hey, Kase, what do you need?”

Syn acted like he was fascinated by the spots on the ceiling, which said she had a long-term leak there, and not interested in her call in the least.

“Have you heard from Caillen? We had a fight last night after my run and he took off again. I don’t know where he is. I’m worried.”

“Hang on, I’ll check my messages.” Shahara switched the mute on, then hit the button on her voice mail.

Syn saw her watching him from the corner of his eye. He looked at her and she quickly turned her back to him. He sighed at her coldness. It was too bad they were enemies. Half of her family actually liked him.

As he listened to her calls, pain hit him square in the chest. The first three messages were bill collectors threatening her with legal suit. The fourth message was the most disturbing.

“Fria Dagan, we cannot accept your ship as collateral for your sister’s bill. You already have not one, but two liens against it. If we don’t have the money by the end of the day, we will have no choice but to turn her out of the hospital. I suggest you contact us immediately to make arrangements for payment or to pick her up.”

Syn clenched his teeth in anger. He’d fought that kind of crap with hospital administration on more than one account and lost. For an establishment sworn to help the needy, it never ceased to amaze him how often they refused to help the people who needed care the most.

How could anyone put a price on human life? The very idea sickened him. It was one thing to hunt and kill the corrupt who preyed on others, another to go after decent people whose only crime was being poor.

He looked at Shahara and saw the defeated slump in her shoulders. Now he understood what had motivated her to come after him. He couldn’t blame her in the least.

“Hey, Trisa.”

Caillen’s voice. There was a tenderness in it as he spoke that Syn had never heard him use before. That told him all he needed to know about their relationship, ’cause in all the times he’d been around Caillen and Kasen, he’d never known Caillen to use it with her.

Shahara was particularly precious to her brother.

“Look, I’m making a last-minute run for the Blairus Company to get some quick cash and I’ll be gone for a bit. If Kasen calls, don’t tell her where I am. They paid me extra to run through the Solaras System and it’s too dangerous for her to follow me—you know what an idiot she can be and I don’t want to deal with it.