I would have to harvest Holt’s blood instead. And if I handed over nothing but blood from a venture this expensive, when what Tower really wanted was Holt’s service, Jake would kill me. But first he’d give Kenley to Jonah, down in the basement, so that the last thing I ever heard would be my sister screaming.
Bile rose in my throat, and I swallowed a sip of warm champagne to keep it down. And when I looked up, I realized that Holt was still waiting for my answer to a question I’d almost forgotten.
“Does Jake’s fidelity to his wife say something about how he runs the organization?” I said, rephrasing the original question, and Holt nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does. There’s nothing Jake wouldn’t do for his wife, and even less he wouldn’t do for the syndicate.”
Including kill me and torture my sister.
The thought of damning someone else to the hell I was living in made me want to light my own hair on fire and take a bath in gasoline. But I would do it. I’d do whatever it took to make Holt sign.
I had no other choice.
Four
Ian
“Which is it you dislike, parties or champagne?” I asked, nodding pointedly at the virtually untouched flute in her right hand, as the party buzzed on without us.
Kori blinked, obviously struggling to refocus her attention, and twisted to face me on the ornate gold couch, both an expensive eyesore and an uncomfortable perch. “It’s parties with champagne. And food served in bites too small to taste.”
I laughed. “You’d rather drink from a trough and eat from a bucket?”
“I’d rather eat from a paper wrapper and drink from the fuckin’ bottle.”
“And your bottle of choice?” She had yet to say anything I’d expected to hear, and I couldn’t help wondering what would come out of her mouth if we got a chance to talk about something more meaningful than appetizers.
“Vodka.”
Any of the waiters could probably have gotten her whatever she wanted to drink, but I couldn’t really talk to her surrounded by two hundred other partygoers, and if I couldn’t talk to her, I couldn’t make her trust me.
“And since you used to live here, you’d probably know where Tower might keep a bottle of vodka …?”
“I might.”
“So maybe we could grab that and go for a walk on the grounds, free from the intrusion of pointless small talk as well as bite-size snacks.”
Kori hesitated, and for a second, I was certain that she didn’t want to be alone with me. Then she glanced at the guard stationed on either side of the front entrance. “They’re never going to let you wander around the property without an escort from security.”
“Aren’t you an escort from security?”
She huffed, and I wondered what I was missing. “It’s complicated. I protect you, but they protect Jake and his interests, which would not be served by giving an unbound man free access to the grounds. We could sneak out, but the patrol would probably find us.”
“Then it sounds to me like we have two options. We can ditch the party entirely and forage for a bottle of vodka elsewhere—”
“Jake would be pissed if we leave without telling him …” she said, and I nodded, not surprised.
“Or we could go upstairs, which—I’m willing to bet—isn’t being patrolled.”
She gave me a conspiratorial grin. “That’s because no one’s allowed upstairs. Jake’s kids are asleep in the family wing, so there’s a guard at the foot of both staircases.” She glanced over her shoulder, and I followed her gaze to the closer of two mirror-image staircases, where a huge man dressed all in black stood directly in front of the bottom step, arms clasped at his back. He was obviously armed, and if his expression was any indication, he suffered from a severe lack of personality.
“But you used to be a guard, so you could take one of them, couldn’t you?” I teased. “If I were to snatch a butter knife from the kitchen, you could bisect him from neck to groin in a single stroke, right?”
Her smile spread slowly, and her brown eyes practically sparkled. “Hell yeah. But Kenley will kill me if I get arterial spray on her dress.” She slid one hand over her own hip to where the dress ended above her crossed knees, and my gaze traced the path, before I realized what I was doing.
Oh, hell no.
Don’t believe a word they say. Don’t let your guard down. And do not make friends.
I’d heard it over and over, from Aaron. Hell, I’d said it over and over to myself. I couldn’t get personally involved. I couldn’t afford to see any of them as real people. They were a means to an end. Tools for me to use, like a wrench, or a hammer. Kori Daniels was the hammer I’d have to swing to smash through Jake Tower’s defenses and gain access to his prized possession, and you couldn’t be attracted to a hammer. Right?
But she’d have to think I liked her, or she’d never trust me. And if she didn’t trust me, she’d never let me near her sister. Kenley Daniels. The woman whose blood had the power to ruin lives—or end them.
“Okay, blood splatter is a problem,” I admitted. “But you’re a Traveler, right? So, you could just walk us both through a shadow down here and out of one up there, couldn’t you?” I glanced at what I could see of the second floor for emphasis.
Kori shook her head. “Infrared grid. There isn’t a true shadow in this entire house, except for the darkroom. None deep enough for me to step through, anyway.”
“What if there was?” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then I stood and started to tug her into the alcove she’d led me to minutes earlier. But she stiffened before I could touch her, and I realized I hadn’t imagined her pulling away from me before. But I didn’t understand it.
She was just a hammer to me, and I was just a job to her. An assignment. Korinne was the bait sent to reel me in, and for all I knew, she did this on a weekly basis. She flirted and cajoled, in a teasing, I-dare-you kind of way, clearly gauging my interest, and she probably knew far better than I did how to stay detached. How to attract without being attracted. How to engage without engaging your emotions, or even your desires.
So why the physical distance?
Was that part of Tower’s pitch? Show me the menu, but don’t let me order until I’d officially signed on? Or was Kori defining her own boundaries between work and play?
I was almost jealous of how well she played the game. And I was more determined than ever to keep in mind the fact that this was a game. A charade, of sorts. The woman, the party, the champagne and fancy clothes—they were nothing but a pretty mask covering an ugly beast that, behind its beguiling smile, waited to devour me.
“What if there was what?” she asked, standing without my help, and I had to drag my thoughts back on topic. Again.
“What if there was a true
