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TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS


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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX


Our momentary call for truths held limitations. Jace still hadn't told me
what Marcus was shipping. And he still hadn't told me what was in the briefcase,
but he had shared the Congressional reports. All of them talked bureaucratic
nonsense with legal lingo and statistical numbers that looked like an alien
language to my very tiresome eyes.


I was tired.


We'd been holed up in the cabin for seven days now. Jace received messages,
returned a few, and never say a word. When I asked if we should be doing
something, he only answered that he was waiting while someone was doing the
'something.'


The first day had been spent lazily.


I never moved far from the couch or my bed.


The second was spent on the couch, but with a watchful eye on my
surroundings.


The third had nearly broke me.


I found Jace exercising in the garage, hitting a dusty punching bag, and he
took one look at me, perched in the doorway and extended an offered hand.


I took it, not literally, but Jace started to show me how to throw the
punches in his world.


He didn't need to know the down and dirty from my world. He already knew it,
but it was nice. It felt right, learning how to fight a different fight.


I drew the line when he offered to teach me how to shoot.


I hated guns. I would always hate guns, but Jace argued a good argument and I
found myself in the backyard, silencer clipped to his pistol, and aiming at an
unseen target.


Jace had been surprised at my talent and cursed the skill that could've been
an agent's.


I told him, emphatically and immediately, that I would never willingly sign
up for that lifestyle.


Jace studied me a moment and pointed out that I'd chosen every moment of my
life and look where I stood.


I shut up, bid him his due, and left for bed that night.


That had been the night before and I sat up when he sat on the couch across
from me and bent over to clean his guns. They were laid out beside him. 9mm.
Colt.45. A few sniper barrels. Three 92F Beretta pistols. 7.62×51mm
cartridges.


It was just the first wave of his weapons.


I wasn't expecting a night of communication, but was surprised when Jace
sighed, picked up a rifle, and murmured, "I figure that if we're going into a
war together, you might want to know a little about myself."


"We've already played truth or dare."


"We've played truth, but you didn't ask the right questions."


"What are you talking about?"


"You asked me when I decided to not go down my path, to do something else and
I told you it was when I watched some guy shove his dick up some girl's ass when
he should've been fighting for his family instead."


"Let me guess," I drawled with a lazy smile. "That was a lie?"


"Not really, but there's a reason why I took this job. There's a reason why
it was offered to me and why I decided to stay in this work, even though I
could've left a long time ago. I could've disappeared, to Iceland or something,
but I didn't."


"So what's that reason?"


"Like I said, this is business and personal."


"But it's a lot more personal than business, isn't it."


Jace grinned, lifted the rifle, and skimmed his cloth down it's backside,
"You are a very smart con, Maya." He frowned. "What's your last name? It's
always been Krein and Maya."


"Cooper." I murmured, "But I don't exactly feel a lot of connection to my
family's surname. I don't come from them, I was just born from them."


"Good point."


Jace sighed, reached for one of his Beretta pistols and asked, "You haven't
mentioned Taryn for awhile. I'm wondering why?"


"You like talking about her?" I grinned faintly, but laid back down and
snuggled into my blanket.


"There's not much for me to say. You already know the story."


"But I don't." I braved it. "I think there's a lot that no one knows. I don't
think Taryn has any clue or had any clue who you really are."


"Or what makes me tick?" Jace teased.


"Yeah."


I did. I was starting to.


Jace commented, "That guy, from before—"


"The one who shoved his…" I supplied.


"Yeah. That one." Jace laid his rifle down and picked the 9mm. "That was
Tray's father."


"Really?"


"Yeah." His movements never stopped. He kept cleaning. "I never knew about
the affair, but I did know when Sal decided to bring the Chief of Police on
board. That night, Sal asked what he should do about his son—about Tray. I just
remember sitting and thinking that this guy is going to beg on his knees and
Sal's going to love it, but that's not what happened. He didn't do that. He
didn't do much of anything. I think that's what started my decision that what I
was doing wasn't right. It wasn't me, not the real me. It was just a means to an
end. Get the power, name, money, girls—that was the short picture for me, for
awhile."


"It changed."


"Yeah. That night sparked something new in me. I went home that night, Brian
and Taryn were upstairs in his room, doing what they did back then, and my dad
was passed out in the living room. Not a climactic night, believe me, but…it was
the routine of the family, the familiarity—I guess that I knew that if it had
been my dad, he would've done something. He would've fought for his kids, at
least Brian. He would've done anything for Brian. That guy, Tray's dad, he just
had no heart."


"Why are you telling me this?"


Jace picked up another weapon. "I think because I'm getting tired of it.
Galverson took something from me, something precious and innocent, and I've
spent eleven years trying to take that back, but I'm getting to the end."


"What are you talking about?"


"You remember in Rafe's hidey-hole, when I talked to you about how the real
battle is keeping our soul."


"Yeah…"


"I'm starting to lose mine." His hands never stopped cleaning, profficiently
and professionally. "What I'm looking for, a person shouldn't ever stop looking
and yet, here I am—the unrealistic hopes are already dwindling and my realism
tells me that's been a wasted effort since I killed Galverson. That don't ever
mean good things, for you or me in this."


I didn't ask what he was looking for. He wouldn't tell me. It would've been a
wasted question.


I asked instead, "Tray's father didn't fight for his family. That's what got
you."


"Yeah. I guess it did."


"Wonder what Tray would make of that." I mused lightly.


"I don't think Tray would give a shit." Jace murmured, bluntly. "Taryn likes
the badboy leader. It's why she chose Brian, me, and Tray."


"But she never really chose you, did she?"


"Nah. You're right. She chose Brian and I happened along, by default."


I remembered what he'd said before. I mentioned it now, "You said before that
you should've made the decision, but Taryn thought that she should've made it
and she felt bad that she never got the courage, right?"


Jace paused in his cleaning, his hands still holding the gun, and he noted,
"Taryn's like a little girl, in some ways. She wears her heart on her sleeve,
but…she fights for what she believes in. She doesn't know our ways."


"Our ways?"


"Manipulating, covert, playing the game that we constantly play."


"So are you tired of playing that game with me?"


"I liked Taryn because she believed and fought fiercely for what she believed
in. I knew that she would've done that for me, if I'd been a different
person."


His hands resumed their cleaning. "I loved Taryn, but I wasn't in love with
her. I couldn't have been because I wasn't Brian or Tray. I wasn't them, who
should've completed Taryn. I was…different. A different breed or something."


My brother didn't understand me. I was a different breed from his
species. And he was afraid of what he couldn't understand, though, I understood
him too well.


"Taryn always thought that she was the coward for not choosing what she
thought she should've chosen, but that wasn't true. I knew what the right choice
was, but I let her flounder. I let her think that she should've said something,
but I knew that she wasn't choosing for a reason."


"You weren't right for each other."


"She's a different breed."


"She's in the light." I said lightly.


"And I'm in the dark." Jace nodded and finished cleaning his last weapon. He
laid it beside him and looked up, "I guess that I'm saying that I've got reason
for what I do. When I don't feel my soul, at all, you can put a clip in me. I'm
giving you permission to do that, because I don't want to go to that world. Not
again."


"You can be an asshole at times, you know."


"Nothing you can't respect." Jace grinned faintly and stood up. "Want a
beer?"


He was right, in more ways than one.


Jace and I were the same breed and same species. We talked each other's
language, respected our fierceness that others might not understand, and we knew
our real battle wasn't between the other, but within ourselves.


A mind game might distract us, but the root war was inside of ourselves.


When I don't feel my soul…


I understood that.


Jace returned, sat, and offered my beer.


I took it, popped the top, and took a drink.


Beer, education, and conversation summed up our past week. It was boring and
scintillating at the same time, and yet, I rather felt that we were merely in
the calm before the storm.


That feeling stayed with me, even as I went to bed, listened for Jace's own
footsteps on the boards across the hall, and knew I'd felt right the next day
when the door suddenly burst open and Jace was already there, gun in hand,
before I could blink.


My heart skipped at the sight of the fierce coldness, readiness, in his eyes,
and then I saw who made him pause, mid-step as he saw who stood in that
doorway.


Stirley stood, for a second, frazzled and panicked. He slammed the door shut
and paced the floor as Jace calmly put away his weapon.


I stayed in my seat, perched on the stairs, and then I heard Stirley's first
words.


"Marcus knows that Maya's here."


My eyes closed in retribution. It was coming around the bend.


"He knows and he's been planning. He's crazy, Jace. He's…I've never seen
anyone like him. He's cold and yet,…he took Cassandra."


"What?" Jace asked sharply.


Stirley turned beseeching eyes on his boss, "He took her."


"Why would he take her?" Jace was ice. Stirley, the calm professional all the
other times I'd seen him, was not calm. He was panicked, frazzled, and he was
pleading something between the two that I wasn't privy to.


Stirley's hand jerked upwards and he extended a DVD. "He recorded what he has
to say. He sent me to find you and give you this."


Jace took the DVD, shut the door, and motioned for him to sit down. He
disappeared into his bedroom for a moment and brought out a laptop. As he popped
in the DVD, he asked, casually, "Are you compromised?"


"No. He has Cassandra. I'm not supposed to know that, but I went for our meet
and she wasn't there. He took her. I know it."


Jace lifted his pewter eyes and murmured, "It's kinda suspect that he sent
you for me when he took her."


Another look passed between the two and that's when I knew: Cassandra was
more than a 'meet.'


"Is this the waitress?" I asked and saw it was.


Stirley remembered I was there and took a rasping breath. "Yeah. She was our
go-between for me and Jace."


"It's how I knew about the meeting." Jace explained. "You were right. She
never gave me her phone number."


"And she wasn't worried about you. She was worried about him." I spoke as it
unfolded in front of me.


Marcus' voice broke any more confessions as his was perched on the laptop's
screen and smiled that smile I'd seen too many times over the years.


I sighed and sat up, "He's playing a game."


Jace paused the DVD and looked at me.


"You want a lover's intuition. You're getting one." I said shortly. "He's
playing something. He used to do that. He did it with his own men. He'd use them
as pawns and see who won or who," I glanced at Stirley, "made it back. I used to
call it his Pawn Face."


Jace nodded, but didn't say anything. He pushed play again and Marcus was
heard sighing, extravagantly, but with a triumphant smile, "What is on this tape
is life or death. I am hoping that this has fallen into the right hands, for if
it has: you have a girl's freedom to save."


"He took Cassandra." Stirley repeated and swallowed tightly.


Marcus proceeded, "This is your choice, Lanser. I have taken your little
snitch, but I know you have more than this one beautiful child. And she is a
beautiful child." The cunning ruthlessness was gone and instantly replaced with
just ruthlessness as he continued, "You want something of mine. I want something
that's in your possession."


Jace and Stirley both glanced at me.


Marcus added, "I am not offering a trade. What I am offering is a game. A
stage. I will not take this girl's freedom if you find where I have hidden the
Decoder. I will share a story for you and it's for you to figure it out, but I
have the utmost confidence that since you've got Maya, my precious Dove, you
have a window to my heart."


Jace paused it and glanced at me.


"I'm fine." I said dully.


He pressed play. Marcus smiling cunningly and murmured, "I have become a
patron among the religious community near my home. I've grown fascinated with so
many religions, but every faith studies the book of Job. Have you heard of it?
People are fascinated with this book because some people don't see a merciful
and loving God. They see an arrogant God who is not perfect. At least, that's
upon their first study. They don't see the hidden message. Job was his perfect
god-fearing man. He was wealthy with family, bread, and wine. He loved God and
he never cursed him. Satan wanted to thrust a separation between God and Job,
all of his followers, so he taunted him. He offered a game. He told God that Job
would not be so faithful if he didn't have his wealth. God was confident and
took the challenge. He struck down on Job. He took everything. His home, family,
wealth, everything. His children were gone and it was Job. Job never cursed him.
He cried his anguish, but he never cursed God even when everyone thought that
Job must've done something to deserve what God was delivering him."


Jace paused it and asked me, "Was he this insane when you were with him?"


"Yeah." I answered immediately.


"He has Cassandra." Stirley muttered.


Jace and I shared a look, but neither said a word. Jace pressed play and
Marcus leaned back to continue, enjoying his own merriment, " 'He agonized
alone.' Do you know what that means? Job realized that his plight was a battle
between the kingdom of evil and the kingdom of heaven. He still had faith even
when he was struck down and alone. He had faith in his God. I am God. I have a
Job. And my Job has the Decoder. Job was innocent of his trials. And God used
him to prove a point to Satan. Job's friends were wrong. Their wisdom couldn't
fathom the ultimate battle between God and Satan, but Job kept his faith."
Marcus paused a dramatic pause and delivered, "I am not in the Kingdom of
Heaven. I am God, but I am not godly. I'm speaking to Lanser, alone, when I say
that I will take this girl's freedom away. She will disappear, but she will
never be free again. We both know how that is possible. This is a win-win for
you. Get the book and get the girl's freedom. God speed to you. You have one
week."


The tape abruptly ended after that and Jace skimmed a glance over me before
he met Stirley's furious gaze.


Stirley burst off the couch and exclaimed, "He's going to sell her off into
his sex trade."


"Stirley." Jace stood up and motioned for me to leave.


I moved to the kitchen. Out of sight, but not of hearing. I didn't think Jace
cared. He was concerned for Stirley and a moment later I heard, "Cassandra
brought this to us. She knew the stakes of this game."


"She's already gone through enough. She doesn't deserve this, god…" Stirley
choked off.


"Go work out. I have a punching bag in the garage."


"I should go back."


"No. If you're not compromised, then he's not expecting you to go back. You
can afford to stay awhile before I send you back."


Stirley's footsteps were jerky and doom-filled, but he turned back at the
door, "He has her. He can't keep her."


"I know." Jace said gravely. The door shut behind one of his best and Jace
sighed as I moved back into the living room.


Jace replayed the entire recording, but instead of watching Marcus, he
watched me.


He paused it and murmured, "Do you know who he's talking about?"


"I don't know anything about Christian theology."


"You know enough to know that this is Christian theology." Jace countered.
"He's given us all the clues already. It's someone in his life who's innocent,
believes and loves Marcus, and does his bidding without question. Do you know
anyone like that?"


"No. There's no one, I mean…" I glanced towards the door. "Did you know about
him and her?"


Jace leaned back against his chair and ran a tired hand over his jaw, "I knew
there could be. Her cover was as his girlfriend."


"What did he mean when he said that she's already lost too much?"


"Nothing." Jace turned towards the DVD again.


"You know, if I were Marcus' spy, I would already know."


My words stopped him.


Jace turned back and admitted, "I don't think you're Marcus' spy. I never
really did."


"Then why? Why can't I know?"


"Because I need you."


That made no sense, but a part of me was starting to figure it out. I
murmured, hoarse, "Is it that bad? Oscar said it would scar me. Will it?"


"No more than it's scarred all of us. It's a given fact of that ugly hell.
You walked in it, you still walk in it and you're still alive."


"I've seen a lot. Rape. Murder. Muggings. What is it that's going to scare me
enough to drop this?" It was a hunch and I saw it was right when Jace didn't
react at all. He knew that I had figured out his fear.


"It isn't what's going to scare you." Jace said lightly, softly. He looked up
with hollowed eyes and my heart jumped, "It's what you might sacrifice."


"What's keeping me from walking right now?" I challenged as dread burst forth
within me.


And Jace spoke straight to my heart when he whispered, "Because you know that
it's worth it. You lived on the streets, but you hate the streets."


"I hate the immorality and the selfishness on the streets. Yeah. I hate what
happens on the streets."


"You hate that what puts people on the streets lives out through them.
They're there for a reason."


"Not all of them." I argued swiftly. I knew that this was important. This was
very important, but I didn't understand it, not totally, but I knew that I
would.


Jace leaned forward and proclaimed, "You want things to change. You want to
change things."


"Yes." My mouth was dry.


"This will change things, but it might come at a cost."


"I don't have anything to lose."


When I don't feel my soul, at all, you can put a clip in me.


Jace didn't respond, but I saw he knew whose words flashed back to me. I
sighed and sat straighter, "You know that this isn't a win-win game with
Marcus."


Jace nodded.


"He's testing me." I murmured.


Jace didn't nod again. He turned back and pressed play for us to watch a
third time. I knew by the end of that night, I'd have every word, every
expression, every glint of emotion in Marcus' eyes branded into my soul.


I'd dream them, if need be, and my nightmare would come back to life.