Chapter 4
ZANE
How long have I waited to get my hands around Checkmate’s perfect, stubborn neck? I wanted to best her at the height of her game. But this feels more like grinding her broken pieces into the floor.
Please. The plea is faint. Fragile. I’m not ready to die.
Her body trembles despite the control. I know what it must have cost her to give those words to me. To beg for her life.
“There’s no need to be afraid.” I infuse the words with warmth and hope it’s enough to provide some kind of comfort.
Then my attention turns to the windows and rooftops of the six buildings nearest to us, tall and dark but by no means empty.
My people are up there. But others likely are as well. “We need to get somewhere safe.”
In my black Nissan GT-R, I settle her on the passenger seat, my fingers curling around the curve of her jaw, the pads settling over the steady beat of her pulse.
I won’t be able to maintain the control once I lose contact anyway.
I let the tendrils of my power slip away until her eyes clear, her heartbeat racing as my influence recedes.
I trace my thumb across her silky cheek. “Don’t do anything stupid, Checkmate.”
She shakes free from my grasp, and I let her go, slamming the door behind me.
She lunges for the handle. Adrenaline floods my veins as my hand slams to the night-cooled metal before she can reach it.
Power snakes from my palm and into the body, passing through joints, wires and circuits until it reaches the locking mechanism, welding it into place.
Wide-eyed, she pulls at the carbon fiber grip, slamming her shoulder against the surface when it fails to unlatch.
“I’m disappointed, but not surprised.”
Her attention shifts to the rest of the car. There’s nothing for her to find. I keep at least one fingertip on some part of the car until I am seated behind the steering wheel with the keys in the ignition and the car in gear.
The smooth aluminum casing of my phone is cool as it slides into my hand. My fingers fly across the glass, firing off the signal to a long string of unnamed contacts.
A crack crosses my jaw that I barely manage to block. She strikes again and I catch her wrist with a tight pull. The momentum throws her off-balance and she ends up half-sprawled in my lap.
“Don’t move.” The words lance through her skin, into the core of her being.
Please.
I laugh. “That won’t work a second time, gorgeous.”
After watching her deck that guy at the Confederation for Citizen Protection, more commonly known by the acronym “CCP,” I know she’s still got some bite, and frankly it’s a relief.
That doesn’t mean I want to be next or that I’ll let the opportunity her precarious position puts her in pass us by.
A muffled squeak passes her lips as I allow my free hand to trace up her side.
She shivers at the touch, but her thoughts don’t contain the haggard edge of fear anymore.
Her mind, it seems, has gone quite blank, and not because of my influence.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” I growl in her ear. “You can try to fight me, lose, and force me to keep you under my control. Or you can accept that I just busted you out of that hellhole and you might just be better off sticking with me for now. Your choice.”
I release her enough to allow a response but keep my grip firmly on her wrist.
“What are you going to do to me?” A tremor rides the cadence of her voice. A long, ragged tendril of chestnut hair falls into her eyes. Whole sections are torn. Some are shriveled and white, curling into one another. “What do you want, Charade?”
“You need help.”
“You think you’re the person to do that?”
“Are you going to behave or not?”
She pulls away, settling into her seat, and I let her go though I keep her wrist in my grasp.
“We both know what you purchased tonight, Charade. If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly.” Painlessly. The word floats on the tendrils of power still threaded through her skin. She shudders against it even as she chooses not to voice it aloud. I hear it nonetheless. “You owe me that.”
My black heart lurches at the bleak acceptance in her tone. The certainty.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
THIRTY SECONDS. -F
“I’m not going to hurt you.” I sigh, slipping the phone into my pocket. “I need your help.”
Her attention shifts to the building. “Those people need my help.”
“The best thing you can do for them is promise not to attack me while I’m driving.”
“Charade…”
“Checkmate.” I tip my head in acknowledgment.
“They told you my real name, didn’t they?”
I nod, but a glance tells me that’s not what she wants. She’s waiting for me prove it.
“Katerina.” The name rolls off my tongue. “Katerina Marie Grace of 2249 Mulberry Avenue, Apt. 16C. Formerly.”
“It’s Kaye, actually.” She scowls.
“Kaye.” I savor the feel of her name in my mouth. The texture.
BOOM.
My foot mashes onto the gas pedal as a hulking plume of gray jets out of the CCP building, blasting the doors apart. Glass showers on the sidewalk from the windows.
“What the hell was that?” She scrambles to fasten her seat belt into place as my tires finish a nice squeal.
A few blocks away now, I glance into my rearview mirror to see dark figures starting to move crumpled forms out of the building. The cloud of smoke expands to cover their departure. We turn around a sharp corner and then the view is gone.
“What did you do? Those were innocent people and you just—”
“We both know they weren’t innocent.” It was unsettling to give those assholes a stack of cash to take her with me, but how else was I supposed to get a flash bomb of that size in that building undetected?
From what I witnessed, humanity had vacated those premises long ago.
“The heroes are fine. Much safer now than they were with the CCP. They’ll be even better if you do what I say. ”
A guttural growl emits from between her lips. The seatbelt unclips in one smooth movement. Back to me, her heel bashes the door, scuffs marring the material covering the interior door panel.
“Take it easy. This car wasn’t cheap.”
Another groan unwinds from her throat, but she stops mangling my leather interior. “How did you even find out they got me? Did your little network of informants call you up and tell you the good news?”
I pull a slip of paper from the fold of my sun visor and drop it into her lap. It’s an article from The New Malcolm Recorder. The paper crinkles as she studies the picture. Checkmate’s silhouette glows within it against the backdrop of downtown.
The headline reads: “HERO” FLEES CITY IN WAKE OF CORRUPTION CHARGES.
It’s bullshit, of course. Checkmate never left New Malcolm, and as for the alleged “corruption?” I’m sure someone did a tidy job of creating a paper trail.
Kaye’s fingers pass over the page, connecting the circles that decorate specific letters to form a cypher. “Am I supposed to know what this means?”
“I ran into a Rose dealer on Victory Avenue last night. He didn’t stick around to chat, but this dropped out of his pocket.
” It had been a long night that turned into an even longer day.
“Decoded, it’s your name and the information that led me to tonight’s little soirée.
I was hoping you might be able to offer some insight. ”
“What’s this part here?” She points to the half-circle of letters that closes out the code.
“A signature.” My skin tightens just thinking about it. “From a man who calls himself ‘C.’ Ever heard of him?”
She shakes her head.
“He’s not a very nice person.”
She tosses the paper onto the dash. “He can’t be that bad if he sent you to help me.”
Heat flares in my chest. “He’s a butcher, and you’d have to be an idiot to think there’s not a reason he wanted me to find you.”
“You’re an idiot then for coming to get me.”
“No…” I grin. “He dangled a carrot in front of me—one I’ll take great pleasure in shoving down his throat. You, dearest Checkmate, are going to help me find him.”