Betrayals (Cainsville Book 4) (43 page)

It wasn’t long before I realized
why
he’d knocked me out … besides just being a jerk. He hadn’t wanted me to see where he went. I wandered the tunnels for only a few minutes before I discovered Melanie had sealed the exits; I reached a metal door that I knew led back to the drop-in center, and it was bolted from the other side. So was the door that led to the room with the windows.

My goal, though, was finding Pepper and Aunika—I’d worry about locating an exit later. The problem was that the tunnels were, well, tunnels. They predated Prohibition, and I could only guess at their original use. Chicago has a rich history of putting stuff underground, despite the fact that we’re on a lakefront and have several rivers running through the city.

As soon as I had an inkling of how big this place was, I stopped running down halls and randomly pushing open doors, and began handling it systematically, drawing a mental map in my mind and marking every door using a broken piece of brick.

I kept stopping and listening … and hearing nothing. What if Melanie had already gotten to them? What if she’d taken Pepper? Killed Aunika?

This wasn’t a race. It was a hunt, and I had no scent to follow, and all I could do was proceed step by step and hope I wasn’t too late, that if anything happened, I’d hear it.

I walked up to the next door and went to put my mark on it only to see an X already on the wood.

Damn it, this was an endless maze where every hall looked exactly the same. I could be walking in circles, lost in some alternate dimension, like in the psych hospital where all my logic and reasoning didn’t do shit because this world wasn’t logical or reasonable or—

Deep breath. Focus. This wasn’t the psych hospital. I’d had flickers of visions when I opened doors in that one area—near the manacles and the room with the lamiae bodies. But they were flashes only, like I’d stepped over a trip wire.

I turned back the way I’d come, but the mental map in my head said I’d checked every passage. I’d looked everywhere.

Except behind the locked doors.

Therein lay the problem, didn’t it? I’d encountered four bolted doors. Presumably, they would be exits, keeping me in. But still …

Damn it.

I took a deep breath and tried not to panic. Back up. Recheck and add a second X. It was all I could do.

I was heading down the next hall when I caught a noise inside a room. I eased the door open. Something darted across the dirt floor. Something furry and not nearly as small as I like my rodents. A wharf rat. I pulled the door shut, shuddered, and started to walk away. Then I stopped.

I backed up to that room, opened the door again, and looked in, expecting to see a rat-sized hole. But the walls looked solid. And there was no sign of the rat.

While ghost rats or disappearing fae ones were certainly a possibility, I wasn’t jumping to that conclusion just yet. I walked into the room and started examining the walls. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for—a hatch on the side wall, set in a rough wooden-plank wall. It hung open an inch or so, not enough to be noticeable when I’d peeked through the door but enough for that rat to squeeze through.

I opened the hatch and peered into a narrow passage. I could see faint, flickering light at the end. I got down on my hands and knees, penlight between my teeth, and crawled into the passage.

The tunnel was about fifteen feet long. When I got to the middle of it, I had a mental image of someone slamming hatches on both ends, trapping me in—

Deep breaths. Which weren’t easy to take when I had a metal tube between my teeth.

I continued on. As I neared the other side, I paused to listen. Silence answered. I crawled to the end and peeked out. An empty room with a partly open door on the other side. Wonderful—more rooms to search. The flickering light came through that door, though, which gave me hope I’d nearly reached my goal.

I pushed myself through … and a hand grabbed my hair, wrenching my head up, a blade pressing into my throat, Melanie’s voice saying, “I think that’s far enough, Olivia.”

R
icky
parked his bike beside the Jag. Gabriel was nowhere to be seen, which meant he’d arrived at least five seconds sooner and God forbid he should actually wait—not if Liv was in danger. Ricky sighed softly, but it wasn’t so much annoyance as resignation and acceptance. This was how it was, how it would always be, and he had as much chance of changing it as he did of changing the course of the sun and the moon.

He broke into a jog and found Gabriel at the rear door, attempting to open it without touching the metal. He’d gripped it with his jacket but couldn’t get the knob to turn, scowling as the fabric slid. If they hadn’t been in a bit of a hurry, Ricky would have been tempted to take a picture. He picked up the pace again and was about to say something when Gabriel snatched his jacket off the knob and grabbed it with his bare hand.

“Hey!” Ricky whispered loudly as he ran over.

Gabriel already had the door open … and had one burned hand, which he tucked behind him as soon as he saw Ricky.

“Could you have waited two minutes?” Ricky said. “Seriously? How about a text to see if I was close?”

Gabriel didn’t even respond to that, just pushed open the door and walked through as he tugged his jacket back on.

“Gun?” Ricky said.

Gabriel grunted something that Ricky was probably supposed to interpret as meaning yes, he had it. He knew better, and as they stepped into the first open room, Ricky held out a nine-millimeter.

“Keep it,” Gabriel said.

“Got one.” Ricky waggled a second gun. Not his usual style—he preferred fists and a blade—but if Liv was in danger, that had warranted a stop at a nearby stash where the Saints stored some of their merchandise.

“I don’t need—” Gabriel began.

Ricky slapped the nine-millimeter in his hand and said, “I’m not standing around arguing while Liv is in trouble.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, then shut it and nodded.

Ricky led Gabriel to the hatch in Aunika’s closet. At the bottom they discovered what seemed proof that they were in the right place: the door leading into the tunnels was barred from their side. Gabriel burning his hand in his rush to get inside also suggested this was the place. He’d found Liv before, as if guided by an internal beacon. Ricky could protest that he had that, too, but it wasn’t the same. It just wasn’t.

Before they set off into the tunnels, Ricky whispered, “I’m going to take it slow and quiet. Follow my lead.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I’ll lead. I—”

“You don’t have my night vision. You don’t have my stealth. Keep your gun out and stay behind me.”

Gabriel stiffened at that, but Ricky ignored him and started moving, fingers over his flashlight beam to keep it low. He searched methodically … just like Liv obviously had. The moment he saw those Xs on the doors, he knew they were hers. When they found a room with manacles and leg irons, Gabriel marched over, ignoring Ricky’s “Hold on.” He grabbed the
metal and, yep, once burned, twice
not
shy, at least if it was Gabriel in search of Olivia.

Ricky only sighed while Gabriel gave his reinjured hand a quick shake, as if the pain was a minor annoyance. There was blood on the wall, but Ricky could tell it was old. Gabriel had to check that, too, giving a grunt of satisfaction and then striding back into the hall. Ricky swung in front of him with “Uh-uh, fae in the rear, Cŵn Annwn in the lead.”

They continued down the hall. After about five paces Ricky said, “Once we find Liv, I’m going to ask you to do something, Gabriel.”

A grunt from behind.

“I understand she’s your employee,” Ricky said. “But I’d like you to restrict your relationship to that.”

Silence for at least ten seconds. Then, “What?”

“I’m asking you—no, I’m
telling
you—to back off. With Liv.”

“I have never—” The indignant reply stopped short, and Ricky felt his breath hitch.

Why can’t you finish that sentence, Gabriel? What have you done?

Ricky pushed back the lick of jealousy. Nothing had happened between them. He trusted Liv too much for that. Even if there’d been a slip, her guilt would have made her confess. Unless …

“You’ve never what, Gabriel? Never made a move on her? Is that what you were trying to say?”

“This is not the time—”

“So you did.” He resisted the urge to glance back.
Just keep moving. Play this out, but don’t stop looking for Liv.
“Let me guess … she was caught up in a vision and mistook you for Gwynn.”

“If you have anything to say to me, Ricky, you can say it later. We’re trying to find Olivia, and carrying on a conversation—”

“I
don’t want you to see Liv socially anymore.”

“I believe that is up to Olivia,” Gabriel said, his voice ice.

“Nope, it’s not. She loves me, and I can make her choose, and we both know who she’ll pick. She’s mine. Even if she wanted to leave? Too bad. I keep what’s mine.”

Ricky could feel waves of hate and cold rage rolling against his back. He took three more steps and then said, “Are you going to shoot me, Gabriel?”

Silence. Then, “What?”

“You have a loaded gun at my back. Seems a little familiar, doesn’t it?”

Gabriel said nothing, and Ricky continued fighting the urge to turn around.

“Liv told me about the vision. So I’m giving you a second chance.”

“Second chance?”

“To kill me.”

It’d been quiet before. Now the silence hung there, heavy, expanding, filling the corridor as Ricky stopped walking, his back still to Gabriel.

“Third chance, actually,” Ricky said. “You had two in the psych hospital. First when I fell out of the belfry.”

“I didn’t. I
wouldn’t
—”

“Then Tristan tried to make you do it. You didn’t hesitate then—you wouldn’t kill me for him. But the first time? Yeah, the first time, it took you a few extra seconds to decide to pull me up.”

“I would
never
—”

“Right.” Ricky turned around then. “You wouldn’t. But that one moment where you considered it is driving you crazy. You can’t forget that you imagined what it would be like. Kill me.
Get me out of the way. Have Liv for yourself.” Ricky lifted his hands over his head. “Go ahead and shoot.”

Gabriel glowered at him. Then he bent, put the gun on the ground, straightened, and crossed his arms.

“So you won’t kill me?” Ricky said.

“Never.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t say
never.
If I lost my mind and threatened Liv, you’d kill me. I’d expect you to. But not for this. You would never kill me …” Ricky picked up the gun. “And I would never take her away from you.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “I was just riling you up. Liv told me about the vision of those kids. The boys from the fifties. She was freaked out because she’d wanted you to see a good side of Gwynn, and instead you got that. I decided that you and I need to move past this. Prove that you aren’t going to shoot me in the back or push me off a balcony. I’d say it’s proving you aren’t Gwynn, but that’s bullshit. Gwynn wouldn’t have killed Arawn. If he could have, that might have solved a whole lotta problems. But he wasn’t that guy. Neither are you.”

Ricky looked at Gabriel. “And yeah, you’re probably thinking this really wasn’t the time for this crap, but notice that I didn’t stop moving until now. And I needed you distracted enough, worrying about Liv, not to question my acting. Now we need to find Liv. But before we do, I’m going to make you a promise, Gabriel, and I need you to make the same back. I will never interfere with your friendship with Liv.
Ever.
Now, your turn.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed.

“Promise me that you’ll never interfere with
my
friendship with Liv.”

“With your relationship?”

“No,
my
friendship.
Whatever happens with our
relationship
, you will not interfere with our
friendship.
I want your vow.”

Gabriel gave it.

Ricky handed him back the gun. Then he took the cartridge from his pocket and passed it over.

“You’ll need this,” he said.

“The gun wasn’t loaded?”

Ricky snorted and continued down the corridor. “I trust you, Gabriel. But I’m not crazy.”

T
he
knife at my throat wasn’t nearly as heart-stopping as it should have been. Okay, maybe my heart did skip a beat, but my body moved straight into survival mode, thanks again to Ricky’s training. Also thanks to the fact that Melanie wasn’t exactly skilled with a blade.

I grabbed her arm and wrenched it from my neck before she could do more than gasp. This time, though, she didn’t release the knife. Her wrist flicked, the tip of the blade catching me. The bullet wound in my side blazed as I twisted, and blood from the knife slice welled up along my forearm, but I kept pulling her down, my other hand going to grab hers, both of us gripping the knife, her trying to slash, me madly struggling to break her hold in any way—

Bone snapped. Her wrist. She let out a howl of pain, and from somewhere through the next doorway I heard an answering cry. But we were already grappling on the floor, the knife knocked aside, the two of us locked in a hold, Melanie grabbing my hair with her good hand, me kneeing her as I gripped her broken wrist, squeezing until she yowled in pain and—

“Gods, Pepper,” Melanie’s voice said from some distant place. “Stop being such a baby. We all need to pull our weight.”

I
was standing in a room. Sunset glowed through the window. Melanie was getting dressed for the hunt, wriggling into a miniskirt, while Pepper watched and nibbled at her lip.

“I don’t like him,” Pepper said. “I’m sorry, Mel. I can’t. Not him. Can’t I go with you? I like that better. It’s easier.”

“This isn’t about what you like,” Melanie snapped. “It’s survival. When you come with me, I do the work and you get to share the reward. That’s not fair.”

“Can we go back to how we did it before? I’m good at picking pockets. I bring in more money than anyone else. I do more chores, too. That’s fair, isn’t it?”