The King

FOURTEEN

The Commodore was arguably the place to live in downtown Caldwell. Rising up over twenty floors high, the condo building overlooked the Hudson River and was cut up into large block apartments that had plenty of square footage as well as state-of-the-art kitchens and bathrooms. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows meant the views in all four directions were as much a part of the decor as anything the owners put into the spaces, and there were rumors that celebrities, looking for a break from Manhattan, used them as drop pads.

Speaking of which, there was even a helicopter landing square on the top.

iAm got off at the eighteenth floor and hung a right. Down about a hundred feet, he stopped in front of a door marked 18A and popped the copper lock he and his brother had insisted on installing when they’d moved in five years ago.

Walking into the three-thousand-square-foot condo, his Merrells didn’t make much noise even though the polished floor was bare of rugs and the modernist furniture was minimal not just in terms of style, but amount.

Damn … that view was still amazing. Especially like this, at night with no lights on inside: The city had its evening face on, everything sparkling, from the patchwork of lights left on in the skyscrapers to the double arches of the twin bridges to the stripes of red taillights and white headlights moving next to the shore down below.

So easy to forget that the heart of Caldie was a dirty place with as much poverty as wealth—if not more: Up here, insulated from reality, with the wailing sirens and stench of garbage so far removed, it was tempting to believe in the sanitized version of the 518.

But he was no fool.

Across the way, there were sliding glass doors that led out to the terrace, and after hitting the lights, he crossed over and opened one up, a cold gust rushing in and agitating the stuffy interior air. His visitor wasn’t due for an hour yet, but he wanted to make sure the place looked lived-in. Doubling back to the open kitchen, he made some discreet clutter by popping a couple of already clean dishes into the rack by the sink and littering up the counter with … let’s see … a spoon or two. A half-eaten bag of Cape Cod potato chips that were stale. An issue of GQ that he flipped through and left open to a page with a jacket Trez would like.

Then he got the coffee started.

He and his brother had no intention of ever coming back here, but he had to keep the place going because it was important that the s’Hisbe have no idea that they’d moved: A search party in Caldwell was not going to be a value add. Especially if it somehow culminated in a visit to the Brotherhood’s mansion—

iAm pivoted to the glass door. Out on the terrace, a figure had materialized from the black night like a wraith, its robes thrashing in the stiff wind racing up the slick side of the building.

“Welcome,” iAm called out to the high priest in a flat tone. “You’re early.”

Okay, which one of them had lost track of time?

The figure came to the doorway, walking in such a controlled, smooth manner you’d swear he was on a hover pad.

“Am I invited in?” came a dry voice.

iAm’s heart skipped one single beat.

Fuck, that was not the high priest.

With those robes covering everything from head to foot, he’d assumed he knew who had come to him.

This was worse. So much worse.

The executioner’s hood should have tipped him off.

“Well, am I, iAm.” You could practically hear the nasty smile. “Such alliteration on that.”

“Yeah, come in,” iAm said, subtly tucking a hand under his jacket. With a flick, he released the holster’s strap across the butt of his Glock. “Never expected you in my house.”

“Interesting. I didn’t think you were that naive.” The male had to duck to make it inside. “And isn’t this your brother’s, too?”

Christ, all iAm could think of was the Grim Reaper.

Then again, s’Ex, as the Shadow queen’s enforcer, had killed enough things to fill a graveyard or two. And he was built for bringing death. The male was seven feet tall and over three hundred pounds—easy. And that voice, coming from under the hooding? Pure evil.

“So I heard you never let AnsLai in,” he said as he closed the slider. “I’m touched.”

“Don’t be. Actually, the high priest thought this place was too contaminated by our contact with humans. Coffee?”

“Like this is a date?” As opposed to the high priest, s’Ex didn’t have any patience for the rules of court or the formality observed between members of the s’Hisbe. Then again, the supreme ruler didn’t keep him by her side for his charm. “And yeah, why not. I like the idea of you waiting on me.”

iAm ground his molars, but he wasn’t going to get pissy. The s’Hisbe had raised the stakes about a thousand miles by sending this guy instead of the high priest, so things were already starting off on a bad foot.

Going around the granite counter, he took two mugs down from the glass-front cupboard and hoped the bastard didn’t want milk in his. As he waited while the coffeemaker burbled and hissed to the end of its cycle, the last thing he expected was for s’Ex to come over and sit down on a stool—normally the enforcer would have cased the place.

Unfortunately, this probably meant he already had.

“So you and your brother been busy lately.” s’Ex put his massive forearms on the counter and leaned into them. “Well, have you?”

“You mind taking that dress off.” iAm stared right into the mesh that covered that face. “I want to see your eyes.”

“How romantic.”

“Not even close.”

“You know, you haven’t got a leg to stand on when it comes to demands.”

“You hate wearing that goddamn hood. Don’t front.”

“Unlike some people, duty doesn’t chafe my ass.”

“Bullshit.”

The short pause told him he’d gotten through on some level. But that didn’t last. “Coffee’s finished. Bring me mine, would you.”

iAm turned away so that his tight jaw wasn’t on display. “Sugar?”

“I’m sweet enough as it is.”

Yeah. Right.

iAm brought over both mugs. “If you want a straw for this, you’re SOL. Sorry.”

s’Ex revealed himself with a quick, no-fuss jerk of the headdress—in spite of the fact that that thing must have weighed thirty pounds.

And yup, underneath was exactly what iAm remembered. Dark, dark skin. Cunning black eyes. Head with the ceremonial shaving patterns. White tattoos down the throat that continued around every square inch of his flesh.

And P.S., those tats were not made by ink. It was poison, injected into the skin in a pattern such that when the dermis died, it “discolored.” Most males, to prove their masculinity, had a small one on their arm—and were sick for days. Nobody, but nobody had the likes of what s’Ex did.

The bastard was a monster. Especially as he smiled—for some reason, probably the testosterone overload, his fangs were always fully descended.

“Happy now?” he drawled.

“Not the word I would use.” iAm took a draw off the rim of his mug. “So to what do I owe this honor.”

Or kick in the nuts, as was the case.

s’Ex smiled a little—which was worse than his full-on grin. “So you and your brother have been busy.”

“You already said that.”

“I’ve paid you a couple of visits here. Nothing special—just a flyby or two. The pair of you haven’t been hanging here lately. Busy with the females?”

“Working.”

“Night and day, then. Wow … worried about money? Do you need a loan?”

“Not from you. I can’t afford the vig.”

“Too right.” Black eyes narrowed on his own. “So where are you.”

“Around. Here now, obviously.”

“I don’t think you live here anymore.”

“Then why are you sitting on something I own.”

“I’ll bet if I go in your room, the closet’s empty.”

“And I assume breaking and entering is part of your ‘flybys’—unless you’ve changed your style.”

s’Ex eased back and crossed his arms under his robes. “Now how rude would I be if I did something like get in here and sniff around. It would be unthinkable.”

“You’re saying you haven’t done that.” iAm rolled his eyes. “Really.”

“No. Or I could be lying. Kind of like you are about living here anymore.”

“Maybe you’ve just come while we’ve been out.”

“Okay, let’s look at tonight. Why are you in your coat? Why are the spoons on the counter clean? Oh, and that magazine? Last month’s. And yet it’s been open like you’ve been ‘reading’ it.” He even did the air quotes. “And one, already-opened bag of chips does not a full pantry make.”

Goddamn it. “Isn’t GQ contraband in the Territory?”

s’Ex smiled again. “Her Royal Highness likes to keep me happy. What can I say.”

Either that or the queen herself was scared of the guy.

iAm lowered his lids to half-mast. “Talk to me.”

“I thought I was. Or were we using sign language and I missed it?”

Except the enforcer got serious, frowning into his mug, going still.

And the longer the silence lasted, the stranger things got. s’Ex didn’t waste time, and he had no patience—ordinarily, the fucker was as decisive as a chain saw.

iAm waited things out for two reasons: One, what other choice did he have. And two, he was used to that by now.

Thanks to Trez’s shit, he’d had a master class in nothing-I-can-do.

s’Ex’s eyes shifted back over. “The high priest is coming to tell you that Trez’s time is up. The queen wants what she’s been promised and the daughter is ready to receive him. Any delay from this point on is going to have measurable repercussions. So, no lie, if you’ve got any way of making your brother toe the line, do it. Now.”

“She’s going to get you to kill him, isn’t she,” iAm said grimly.

The enforcer shook his head. “Not yet. I’m going to start with your parents. Your mother first. Then your father. And it’s not going to be pretty.” The male’s stare never wavered. “I’ve been ordered to tie her up and shave her head first—then rape her and cut her so she bleeds out slow. Your father is going to watch it all and then what I do to him will be worse. If you honor them in any way, talk to your brother. Get him to the Territory. Make him do the right thing. She’s not going to stop until she gets him—and just so we’re clear, I will not hesitate to do my job.”

iAm braced his hands on the granite counter and leaned into his arms. The situation with their parents was … complicated, to use a Facebook term. But that didn’t mean he wanted them dead and/or desecrated.

As s’Ex got to his feet and slung his executioner’s hood over his shoulder, iAm heard himself say, “You didn’t touch your coffee.”

“You might have poisoned it.” The enforcer shrugged. “I don’t take chances with anybody—sorry.”

“Smart.” iAm measured the male. “But then, you’re a real professional.”

“And I have my reputation for a good reason, iAm.”

“I know.” He cursed under his breath. “I am well aware of your work.”

“Don’t pull my trigger. I didn’t have parents, and wish I had. I’m not looking forward to this.”

“Goddamn it, it’s not up to me.” iAm curled up two fists. “And I don’t know if Trez is going to care, to be honest. He hates them.”

s’Ex shook his head. “That’s not good news. For any of you.”

“Why the hell can’t she just get someone else.”

“Not a question I’d be asking if I were you.” s’Ex looked around the apartment. “Nice place, by the way. Just my style—and I’ve been enjoying the view while I’m here.”

iAm narrowed his eyes at the odd tone in that deep voice. Son of a bitch … “You get it, don’t you.”

“What? How someone would want out of the Territory. To be free to live their own life.” Abruptly, s’Ex’s face turned into a mask. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The enforcer turned away and stalked back to the slider. As he moved, his robes wafted behind him, his body shifting with the grace of a predator.

“s’Ex.”

The male looked over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

iAm reached out and took the coffee he’d poured for his guest. Lifting it to his lips, he drank long and hard, finishing the shit on a oner even as it burned its way down to his gut.

As he put the empty mug back down, the enforcer bowed. “You have more honor than most, iAm. And that’s why I came to you. I actually like you—not that that’s going to help you much further than tonight.”

“I appreciate it.”

The enforcer looked around, as if he were storing the memories for later. “Back at the s’Hisbe, I’ll do what I can to delay things, but this is on you. Your brother may be the one with his neck in a noose—but you’re the guy who’s going to have to get him where he needs to go.”

“He’s not clean, you realize.”

“How so?”

“He’s been fucking humans. A lot of them.”

s’Ex threw his head back and laughed. “I should goddamn hope so. If I were on the outside, I would.”

“Bet your queen won’t feel like that.”

“She’s your ruler, too—and I wouldn’t play that card if I were you.” s’Ex pointed his forefinger across the distance. “She’ll put him through a cleanse, and if he survives that—which is not a foregone conclusion—he’ll never be the same. You need to shut your fucking mouth on his love life, trust me. Oh, and AnsLai doesn’t know I’ve come. Let’s keep this our little secret, shall we.”

After the enforcer went out and disappeared into thin air, iAm strode over and closed the door. Then he proceeded directly to the bar at the far end of the open space and poured himself a bourbon.

Looked like Trez’s get-out-of-jail-free card had a hole in it: His sex addiction was not going to be the turnoff they’d been hoping it would.

Great.

And if s’Ex hadn’t shown up here and told him to keep all that fucking on the QT? God only knew what would have happened.

He hadn’t even heard about cleansing, but he could guess.

One thing was sure: He never thought in a million years he’d ever owe that coldhearted executioner a solid. Then again, it looked like Trez wasn’t the only one balking at the restrictions of the Territory.

The question was … now what. And he had about ten minutes to figure the shit out before the high priest got here.