CHAPTER FORTY THREE


Jace slept and I watched. I remembered and I envisioned. He had met a girl,
he had sex with that girl, and he refused to give her drugs so she took away his
unknown son. She took their child away and gave it to someone else, someone who
gave her more drugs, and when all her supplies ran out, everything came to haunt
her at once.


She broke and she went to that boy, who'd been on a path for his own
self-destruction. He heard his worst nightmare whispered to him and she died.
That boy never called the police. He never called the paramedics, instead he
took her and buried her himself. And then he marked her grave with a cross made
of stone.


Flowers grew over that stone now.


And he had told someone else of her story, of his story, and his child's
story.


That same boy, that child, tried to raise his younger brother while he turned
his back from a father's whip.


And he played, reigned, and conquered a world that movies merely whispered
about.


Jace had lived all that and more.


And he had told none of it, until me.


I breathed out and tenderly traced my fingertips over his face, over his
cheekbones, to graze upon his lips and to dip into the valley.


Jace's eyelids opened and he watched me in turn.


"What are you doing?" He asked with a faint grin.


"Do you bleed?"


"What?"


"Do you melt?"


Jace frowned.


"Do you burn?"


"What are you doing, Maya?"


"I'm trying to figure out what you're made of because it doesn't make sense
to me. You don't make sense to me."


"Are you serious? We're back to that again?" Jace bit out, bitter.


"You buried the mother of your child after she told you that she sold your
son away. She killed herself and you buried her. What are you made of, Jace? Do
you know what's inside there?"


"Are you asking if I have a heart of stone? Or am I searching for a heart? Or
maybe there's water inside of me instead of blood." Jace countered swiftly and
sat up against the headboard.


"That's blasphemy." I noted. "We're inside the lion's den. Are you Daniel or
are you David?"


"Are you the Riddler? Or are you just insane?" Jace countered. "What's with
you?"


I watched him, held his gaze, and questioned softly, "If you had named him,
what would you've named him?"


"No." Jace shook his head. "Don't do this. I don't want this."


I quickly straddled him and pushed him back.


"Stop it, Maya. I'm not playing games. We're not doing that anymore." Jace
argued.


"What would his name have been?" I repeated, fiercely.


"Stop it." He said just as fiercely.


"What would your son's name have been?"


"I mean it, Maya."


His voice didn't even break. He just warned, flatly, and unemotional, but I
knew he meant it.


I asked anyway, "He was your son. What would you have named him or don't you
let yourself think about that?"


Jace stared me down, for a moment, and then he reversed his hands, grabbed my
wrists, and flipped me onto my back. He now straddled me, but stared,
piercingly, down at me.


I saw the emotion then. I saw it simmering and knew we both kept our fires
below, way below, but it was there. And it was moving us in every hand we
played. I needed to know what his fire burned.


"Is it hate?" I asked, huskily, now.


"What?" Jace frowned.


"What fuels your fire, Jace? Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."


He considered it, he really considered it, and then he was off me and threw
over his shoulder, "I'm taking another shower. We need to move pretty soon so
get ready."


I sat there, and considered it for half a second, before I shot off the bed,
grabbed my blade and was in the shower with him.


My knife was at his stomach before Jace reacted, but he did, and he grasped
my wrist with a firm hold while he asked, cautiously, "What are you doing?"


"What would you have named him, Jace? It's not a tough question. Why can't
you answer that?" I asked and gazed at him. The water rained down and plastered
everything against me, but I watched him steadily.


We were caught at an impasse.


Jace didn't want to tell, but I needed to know. I didn't need to know about
his son's name. I just needed to know what boiled inside of him.


"You told me about your son and about Kendra. No one could do what you've
done and still be standing straight. No one could—you lost your brother, your
son, you buried Kendra, and you're still fighting a war that usually consumes
thousands before anyone gets anywhere. I need to know what fuels your fire,
Jace?"


It was so much more than that.


Jace turned his back and remarked, "Maybe I'm Buddhist."


I hung my head, closed my eyes, but only for a moment. And then I turned him,
slammed him against the wall, and gripped my blade harder.


"Why can't yo—"


"I would've named him Isaiah." Jace stopped me short. His hand came to rest
on mine, but he said gently, "I would've named him Isaiah after my little
brother."


"Little brother?"


"Yeah. My mom was pregnant when she left us, it's why she left us.
She told me that she was going to name him Isaiah."


I stood still, surprised, but not shocked at the revelation.


"When'd she leave?"


Jace shrugged and reached for the shampoo, "Does it really matter? She took
off early enough for Brian to think she died." Jace lathered the shampoo and ran
it briskly through his hair. When he started on the soap, he grinned, and moved
his arms around me. He bent his head beside my ear and lathered my back.


I gasped as the tingles warmed me and when he moved to my stomach, he gently
shifted me to stand with my back pressed against his front.


Jace slid his hands up and down, gently lathering, and he found the side of
my mouth with his own.


I groaned and held a helpless hand to the side of his face, but when Jace
finished cleaning me, he rinsed me off, and then quickly did himself as he
pinned me with his hips against the shower wall.


I watched as I realized I felt safe with him. I felt protected, even as he
used his hips to hold me against the wall since my knees were a little unsteady.
I knew Jace wouldn't let me fall and that's when I leaned forward, closed the
slight gap, and kissed him softly.


Jace answered back.


The soap was dropped on the floor, forgotten, and he swept me higher for
him.


We explored each other, slid our tongues together, and much later, I rested
my forehead against his and whispered, "I'm sorry about your son."


Jace nodded, eyes closed, and he leaned for another gentle graze of the
lips.


The water was turned off and we dried around each other.


Just as we finished and separated to dress, a curt knock sounded abruptly on
the door.


It was pushed open to emit Kip with another member behind him. Kip wore a
black leather vest over faded jeans. His stomach muscles glistened with oil on
them. The other gang member had matching tattoos, a dragon on one bicep, a
Chinese symbol on his chest, and Panther that started from one ear, covered the
neck, and ended just behind the other ear. The Panther looked to be lounging,
but a warning glint could be seen in the yellow eyes as it watched it's prey
before him.


Kip nodded.


Jace nodded.


The other gang member nodded.


And I stood there.


The gang member grabbed our bags and stood back as Kip led the way with Jace
trailing and myself behind him. The second Panther brought up the rear and we
all traipsed to the car.


I rode in the back with Jace beside me.


The other two took the front.


Our bags were dumped between Jace and myself.


When I watched all three males, they all knew what was going to happen, and
all of them held a 9mm at their hip, ready for shooting if needed.


Jace seemingly brushed his hand against him, accidentally, but I knew it
wasn't. It was a casual acknowledgement of our earlier conversation. He reached
into our bags and handed me my vest, complete with the two normal weapons.


After I'd put it on, Jace grinned as he pulled out another weapon, a nine
inch blade with a diamond-tip end.


"This is for me?" I asked, already in love with the newest blade.


"Consider it an investment for the future." Jace said dryly. He pulled on a
black stocking hat that made him seem darker and more dangerous, if that was
possible. It also made him more mysterious.


We drove for an hour before Kip grunted, "Heads up."


It happened like before. Two motorcycles drew beside us and they both checked
each window before they sped ahead and escorted us along the way. Two more
materialized to bring up our rear and we were led, instead of escorted, to
another warehouse.


A dingy 24/7 diner stood at one end of the corner with a liquor store across
the street.


The warehouse took up the rest of the block and we pulled in, but instead of
weapons and Panthers, it was in complete darkness.


Two of the motorcyclists parked outside while the other two rounded the car.
Kip got outside to converse with them and a second later, they rapped on each of
our windows and motioned for us to get out.


Jace said quietly, "You answer his questions for me."


"What am I supposed to say?"


We hadn't talked about this before. We'd gotten distracted.


"You tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at this stuff, Maya." Jace
flashed a smile before he climbed out.


After a second tap urging me to hurry, I got out and drew a breath.


Jace stood back and I took the lead now.


We were led down a dark hallway and heard a door creak open as we were led
inside.


A voice boomed behind us, "I like guests. I like guests who smell like these
do."


Jace's hand brushed mine as he shifted closer.


"Tell me," The voice boomed again and echoed unevenly throughout the room.
"what are you doing in my territory?"


This was Merit. Blinded, but smart. And ruthless. I heard that edge
immediately. I closed my eyes and thought. Jace was right. I was good at this.
This was my life and I could do it again.


He brought us to a completely black warehouse. To another large enough room
to echo his presence, and yet the echo wasn't evenly distributed.


It bounced off the walls, but it skipped where he had men positioned.


I couldn't know for sure how many of them were there, but enough for him to
feel safe.


And he wanted us to see how he saw.


In complete darkness.


So I did what he was doing. I listened, smelled, felt, and extended all my
other senses.


Faintly, I murmured, "I'm on business for Mallon."


"Any business of Mallon's doesn't travel this way." Merit laughed as he moved
around the room. He was purposely circling us.


"This one does." I said lightly with a little condescension.


Merit was surprised at that. He wanted everyone to tremble at his knees. He
wanted his power to be instantly felt and to leave anyone who'd been in my
position reminded of their vulnerability.


"What's your business with him?" Merit asked, shortly now.


"It's really none of your business, now is it? Mr. Mallon doesn't pay you to
know his business. He pays you to let him do his business." I said coolly.


Merit stepped around again and he stood right next to me.


"Mr. Mallon," Merit used my terms snidely, "does his business elsewhere. He
has never had his colleagues enter through my territory."
"I'm backwater
business. So you can see why I refuse to tell you my business with Mr.
Mallon."


"Backwater?"


He was to my right and I turned, dull and unseeing eyes to him, as I said
scornfully, "You want to play who has the biggest balls here? You think some
blindness bothers me? You think I can't tell how many men you have in here? It's
a neat trick to psych others out, but not me. You touch me and Marcus Mallon
will be very angry."


My words echoed, and echoed again, as I could almost hear Merit considering
and analyzing every word, every nuance of emotion, and even how I had looked
right at him.


"What about your friend?" He asked, backing off—slightly—, "I don't like his
walk. What's he to you?"


"He's my bodyguard." I answered swiftly and never blinked as I placed my gift
against his jewels. "Not that I really need him."


Merit stiffened in shock, but laughed deep-heartedly a second later. He moved
back, cautiously, and signaled for something to happen.


The men left the room and only my traveling pack stood with Merit and one of
his men in the room.


The lights weren't switched on and that told me—Merit wasn't caring. He was
comfortable and be damn anyone else's comfort zone.


"I like you." Merit informed me. "I'd like to bed you too."


He circled around me. "You smell of freshwater springs. Your voice is light
and feminine with a hard touch to it. And I can tell that you have the meat that
I prefer. I'd very much like to bed you." He paused, "So how about it? Or would
Mallon take exception to that?"


This game I knew. He was another Marcus, but he didn't play in the same major
leagues.


I inched back slightly and that earned an approving smile from Merit as he
skimmed a fingertip down my arm and casually grazed the side of my breast. He
moved behind me and slowly splayed his fingers against my hip as he urged me
back against him.


I felt his hardness and heard the hitch of excitement in his breathing.


I tilted my head to the side and murmured, casually, "I think Mr. Mallon
would take exceptional offense since I'm to warm his bed tonight."


Merit froze and moved away a second later.


He laughed, raucously, and then said, "Fine." He turned and walked for the
door, but he ordered, "Call it in."


I heard a phone open as the door closed and Jace left my side in an
instant.


A choked gasp broke the air and then a body fell to the ground.


Jace was at my side again and he said, grimly, "We have to move. Now. Before
they realize the call never got through."


Kip was at the door and leading us out as we hurried without breaking a
jog.


Kip sat beside me in the back while Jace took the wheel.


The second Panther opened the warehouse's doors, closed the doors as we
reversed, and jumped in as Jace sped off.


"Why didn't he ask for papers?" I asked.


"Because papers can be faked." Kip answered beside me. He had his gun out and
ready.


So did the others so I took my own out.


"You did good, Maya." Jace told me as he spun the wheel and we took a
backroad.


"If I did good then why are we leaving like this? Why'd you kill that
guy?"


"Because he was going to call us in and make sure that you actually had an
appointment."


"Gravon is who he would've called, but he's dead now. I doubt that Marcus has
anyone he trusts like that, at least right now. The call was a dud."


"We couldn't take that risk. If he was going to call Mallon or if he was
going to call the next checkpoint, we couldn't let any of that happen. We have
to disappear from this point until you and I can get where we need to be."


I glanced at Kip and asked Jace, "What about these guys?"


"Kip and Nolan are helping us." Jace only said and continued to drive until
he pulled off beside an abandoned building with the train tracks beside it.


Nolan and Kip both got out while we waited in the car.


I studied the layout and remarked, "They're going to find people in
there."


"How so?" Jace asked casually.


"It's a marked spot." I indicated a carving on the wall. A pointed sun was
turned upside down. It lit the ground, but not the sky around it. "This is a
hideout for hobos."


"They'll scramble."


"But they'll talk to each other."


Jace turned around, "They won't talk to who I don't want them to talk
to."


"They'll talk to my people." I said dully. "It'll get passed around that a
car pulled in to the train's spot."


But even as I said the words, I knew that if others didn't know how to talk
with mine, they wouldn't ever think to ask them.


We saw all, knew all, but no one knew we were there.


"We're not staying long. Nolan will strip the car down and we'll all move
on." Jace told me.


"What's with them?"


"What do you mean?"


"Are they agents or are they Panthers?"


"They're born Panthers. They'll die Panthers." Jace clipped out.


I noted the tight jaw, but asked anyway, "Then why are they helping you?"


"Because I was their leader."


"You're out. You were working undercover for the DEA. How can they still want
to help you? I'd think they'd want to murder you."


"I'm still a Panther." Jace surprised me. "I never turned on them and Kip
knows that. I told you before that I had some who were still loyal to me, I have
a bit more than a few."


"How many?" I asked, the question still in my throat.


"Merit has his followers and I have mine."


"Is Merit the leader?"


"No. He's one of the second commanders."


"How many are there?"


"There's two, but he's the only one active right now."


"Who's the other?"


Jace waited a moment and then answered, "Me."


I shouldn't have been surprised. After everything—nothing was starting to
faze me anymore. Nothing really had, not after my life.


"So who's running your camp for you?"


Jace shook his head. "You're not going to like this answer."


"Jace."


"An ex of mine."


"Who?"


"Her name is Cammy. She's acting in my place, but she has to go through two
others before she makes any decision about anything."


"And who are they?"


Jace turned back and asked, "You really want to know the complete layout of
the Panther hierarchy? Because you know that if I tell you, you have to become a
Panther."


I closed my mouth.


"I didn't think so." Jace grinned and caught a motion from Kip. He started
the car and pulled it ahead.


As Jace cut the engine, I got out and wandered the building. I never saw
their presence, but I felt it. Some of my own had been there and they'd quickly
vanished into the night, but they left with the knowledge that someone had taken
their spot from them.


I walked through the second floor and into the far end, when I drew up short,
and my fell open.


A field separated us, but I stood and found myself staring at Marcus' mansion
as too many memories came back to lash out at me.


I was like Jace.


I had the hauntings, but I kept them stomped down. Too many added together
and I would've gone insane, trying to function in daily life.


Some of those ghosts were let loose at the sight of his unblinking and
beautiful crystal lights. Each light illuminated the wall that circled around
the house, like a castle's moat and the driveway was the drawbridge.


The field was barren, but I knew what Marcus' would've buried underneath the
field.


Bones and booby-traps.