Chapter Twenty-Six
Killian
The apartment is dark when we step in. I don’t bother turning on the lights; I slam the front door closed, back Lyra against it, and take her mouth in a feral kiss.
Now more than ever, I need to remind her that she’s here and she’s mine, and that I won’t let her go anywhere.
Come hell or high water, I’m fucking keeping her.
She’ll be mine in this lifetime and whichever comes next.
She softens under my kiss, releasing an adorable little mewl, digging her fingernails into my shoulders.
A throat clears behind us, from somewhere in the living room. I tear myself away from Lyra instantly, sweep her aside, and press the panic button by the door.
“No need for that,” a familiar voice calls. “I come in peace.”
Motherfucking Cain. “Stay here,” I tell Lyra. “Do not move a fucking inch.”
I reach beneath the entryway table, retrieving the gun taped there, and stalk into the living room, flipping on the lights and taking aim at the extremely unwelcomed guest idling on my couch.
Cain yawns. “Your aim is shit. Perhaps I should have my Nighthawks start offering lessons to your kind so you might actually put up a good fight if someone comes for you.”
“Are you here to kill me?”
“If I was, you’d already be dead.” Cain offers me a flat smile. He holds a tumbler of liquor in one hand. He has no weapon, at least not that I can see. Lyra yelps from the entryway as the door bursts open and half a dozen guards trample inside.
Furious with the failure in my security, I swing around and point the gun at the nearest guard, deciding that Cain’s no threat for the time being. He’s right; if he were here to kill me, he wouldn’t have announced himself. “How the fuck did he get in here?” I thunder.
“I’m the best assassin in the world. Ingress and egress of locked spaces is a strength of mine.
When I want to go somewhere, nobody can keep me out.
” Cain releases an annoyingly loud yawn.
“Did you know that I’ve broken into nearly every best-guarded bank vault in the world?
Before joining and overtaking the Nighthawks, I got paid for those menial tasks.
My callsign was almost Ghost.” He chuckles.
“Naturally, I killed the man who tried to give me such an unoriginal name.”
I lower my gun, still glaring at the men I employ. “Search the place. Guard her.”
“Her should join our conversation, considering she has quite a lot of skin in the game.”
I turn my glare back on Cain as my men move to follow orders. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve.”
“And very little time, unfortunately. Lyra, sweetheart, come out here,” Cain calls, voice louder. “We should all have a nice, civilized discussion.”
I don’t hear the sounds of footsteps. After a few beats, I realize she’s waiting for my say-so. “Come on, Little Bird,” I say, resigned.
She slips out of the hallway and comes to a stop beside me. Her expression is blank, no hints of turmoil or fear. In fact, the stare she pins Cain with is analytical above all else. That’s my girl.
“Huh,” Cain says after a few beats. “So you’re the one who captured his heart.”
“And you are?” Lyra doesn’t miss a beat.
“A nobody.” Cain gives her a flat smile. “That’s how I prefer it. Do keep this conversation to yourself; I’d hate to have to kill you. You’re far too pretty to die.”
“Threaten her again,” I hiss. “See what happens.”
“I don’t make threats. I give guarantees.” Cain gestures to the sofa across from him, as if he isn’t an unwelcomed guest in my fucking home. “Please. Let’s discuss.”
Lyra looks at me for instructions. I suppress the lazy satisfaction I feel. Not because she’s being obedient, but because she’s trusting me. While I’m phenomenally uncomfortable knowing she has a sex tape of me she can leak any moment to ruin my life, this new peace between us is very worth it.
I sit across from Cain, and pull Lyra into my lap. She goes willingly, relaxing a little against me.
Cain misses nothing, his lips tipping up at the corners.
“Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.” He yawns. “You’ll need to tell me your secret on wooing.”
“Wooing,” I repeat drily. “Have your eye on a prize, Cain? I’d think you were more likely to kill any object of interest than give into them.”
“We all have our vices. Mine happens to be a woman.” Cain leans forward. “Which is why I’m here.”
“That so?” I drawl. “I’d have thought you were here to tell me you have proof that Silas tried to fucking kill me.”
Lyra stiffens at the force of my words. I stroke a hand over her waist. The gesture is instinctual, not deliberate, but it seems to work.
“I don’t, which means he didn’t.”
I point at the door. “Get the fuck out and refund me.”
“No.” Cain yawns. “Silas didn’t try to. If he had, my guy would’ve found proof. But someone did. It looks like you have more enemies than expected, Killian.”
“Who?” I demand. When Cain stares at me blankly, I sigh. “I’ll pay whatever you want if you get me the information.”
“Excellent.” He leans forward. “What I want isn’t cash.”
“An introduction to someone?” I squint.
“I know everyone worth knowing. They come begging at my feet.” Cain brushes nonexistent lint off his suit. “I need a drug.”
“Which one, how much and where?” I can broker a deal with Carter to get whatever he wants at a reasonable price.
“I need a specialized drug. One I hear your team of scientists are working on.”
I stiffen. The research into the compound meant to extend life by an indeterminate amount of time is still ongoing.
We’ve only just begun animal trials, and there have been a lot of unexplained deaths.
Huge surprise that fucking around with lifespan tends to backfire…
but The Eyes asked, so I’m compelled to try.
Cain should not know about that. He can’t. I only have three people working on it, and all of them are aware what’s at risk if they speak.
“I understand you’re developing something meant to ease the effects of psychedelic-induced mental breaks.”
I blink. “What?”
“Y’know how the government likes to dose people with random shit to see what it does, right? Specifically hallucinogenic drugs. A nasty side effect is the mental breakdowns that subsequently follow, and complete distortions of reality. You’re working on the fix for that. I want it.”
I blink slowly. Helixon Biopharma is working on that, but we’re still in very early days of human trials. The drug’s been deemed safe enough to use in highly-experimental trials, but there are risks, as always.
“Why?” I ask, squinting. “Did one of your agents get fucked up?”
“You could say that.” Cain’s jaw ticks. It’s the first display of real emotion I’ve seen from him.
I tilt my head to the side, examining him. He’s not the type to give a fuck about a normal person working for him. Which means it isn’t someone who works for him.
I think back to the rumors I’ve heard whispered about the Nighthawks, and some archaic fucking new tradition of them kidnapping women to become virtual sex slaves.
If I were a more decent person, I might give a shit about the number of actual and moral laws that breaks. As is, I only see leverage here.
Cain wants something to help someone he’s fixated on. To help a woman he’s fixated on, I’ll bet. Perhaps whoever he chose?
Cain has a weakness. One he’s willing to risk exposing to me, which means he’s desperate.
“Who is she?” I ask. “Employee? Lover?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about—”
“Then I have no access to get you that drug you’re desperate enough to come begging for. And I have much better things to do with my time.” I plant a palm on Lyra’s thigh. “If you’re as good at ingress and egress as you profess, I’m sure you can get your hands on it.”
“I don’t even know where to look,” Cain hisses.
That’s because my labs are top-secret, and every dose of every experimental drug I manufacture is more monitored than weapons in the US military.
“Who is she?” I repeat.
His jaw ticks again. I lightly drag my fingers over Lyra’s thigh, hiding a smile when she shudders. Cain’s eyes track the gesture, and for a moment, I think they flash with something akin to longing.
So, there’s a woman he wants, who recently went through some high-level torture that included cruel drugs, which subsequently caused a psychotic break. He sure does know how to pick ‘em.
Then again, I’m not really in a position to judge. I chose a journalist who tried to take down my empire.
“Someone important to my organization.”
“Important to your organization or important to you?”
“The two are one and the same. When I’m unhappy, bodies drop. It’s in everyone’s interest to keep me happy.”
“You’re capable of happiness?” I ask with mock surprise.
“Fuck you,” Cain says heatedly. “I’ll make this simple. Give me what I want, and I’ll find out who tried to have you killed. Don’t, and I’ll kill the pretty girl seated on your lap. In front of you. Slowly. Then, I’ll lock you in a room and keep you alive long enough to watch her corpse decompose.”
Lyra gasps and tenses.
I keep my expression blank, but the very thought causes everything in me to twist into a knot. My hand inadvertently tightens on Lyra’s thigh. Cain smiles emptily. “Sorry, did I strike a nerve?”
“You’re not endearing me to help you,” I growl.
“I’m not asking. I’m giving you your options. I don’t require endearment; I require a fucking fix.”
I kiss Lyra’s cheek. “Go to bed. I’ll be up soon.”
She gives me a frightened look. “Will you… be okay?”
I love that she cares. “I’ll be fine. When I come into the bedroom, I expect you to be waiting for me naked. Preferably ready.” I give her thigh another squeeze, half warning, half promise. “Go.”
She stands on unsteady legs. I watch her go; Cain keeps his eyes on me. Whoever his object of fixation is, she must mean a lot. Only a fool wouldn’t watch Lyra walk away; she’s fucking stunning, and she’s mine.
“What are her symptoms?” I ask Cain.
“Visual hallucinations, overstimulation, classic symptoms of PTSD,” he rattles off. “Fear, jumpiness—”