The man she loved.
Leaving Wyatt to be with his family,
to settle the battle within himself, was
the hardest part . . . and yet, in some
ways, it was the easiest. Life with him
would never be easy. He was too
prickly, too autocratic, too caught up in
shoulds rather than coulds.
But what a man he was.
She lifted her chin as she and Ian
approached the guards. He greeted two
of them by name, and the rest edged
closer. One of them looked familiar to
Remy from her bounty hunting days with
Ian.
“Tell Hegelson I’m here,” her
companion said.
“Hegelson? What the hell would he
be doing here?” said a tall man with a
shaved head. He sneered.
Apparently, Ian knew better. “He’s
here. Tell him Ian Marck has what he
wants.”
“I remember you,” said one of the
men. He looked at Remy with disinterest
then turned his attention back to Ian.
“Hegelson doesn’t want to be disturbed.
He’s got other things on his mind. Until
ten o’clock tonight, that is.” His grin was
unpleasant.
Another of the guards jostled against
the man who’d recognized her. “That’s
the bitch Seattle had,” he muttered,
scratching his bald head. “Remember
her? I don’t think Hegelson’ll want to
tap that.”
Ian tensed next to her, reaching for
something, but Remy kept her eyes
coolly on the bald man. “Oh he’ll want
to see me,” she said. “I’m Remington
Truth.”
All the heads swiveled toward her,
and Remy knew she’d crossed the point
of no return. She might as well play it all
the way. “Get Hegelson out here or he’ll
never get the Mother crystal.”
Ian glanced down at her. She didn’t
bother to give him an apologetic look;
she’d seen no need to give him a play by
play of her intentions.
The men scrambled into action then,
with several rushing off toward an old
house—presumably
to
carry
the
message.
When the one who’d sneered at Ian
aimed his rifle at them, Remy said, “Put
it down. Did you not notice I came here
of my own volition? If you hurt me or
Ian, you’ll never get the crystal.”
“Oh, I have my ways of getting
information I need . . . whether it’s
offered freely or not so freely.” The
sneering man’s eyes were narrow and
predatory.
“That might be the case, but Hegelson
won’t appreciate it if either of us are in
no condition to give the information.
Trust me. He’s been looking for this for
fifty years. You don’t want to chance
fucking it up.”
He looked as if he wanted to say
something else, but a commotion behind
him drew his attention. The group of
guards parted to reveal a man whom
Remy instantly realized was Liam
Hegelson.
“Remington Truth,” he said as he
stepped forward. “And Ian Marck. How
fascinating.”
“I’d say it was a pleasure to meet
you, but, well, it’s not,” Remy told him.
She was damned proud of her strong,
steady voice. “I have no respect for a
man who would hold an entire city
hostage in order to get what he wants.”
Hegelson’s blue eyes gleamed. “A
man does what a man must do to gain his
freedom.”
“As does a woman.” Remy scraped
her attention over him, mustering up
every bit of disdain she could. She even
curled her lip—a move she’d learned
from Wyatt. “Which is why I’ve brought
you this.”
As she reached into the pocket of her
pretty blue sundress, Ian turned to her,
shock and dismay on his face. “No,
Remy,” he said, reaching for her arm.
“Don’t—”
A rifle suddenly at his throat choked
him off, and she looked at Sneering Man,
who seemed altogether too trigger
happy. “You’re overreacting,” she told
him. “And you’re being rude.” She
looked at Hegelson. “Tell them to back
off. All of them. Or this discussion is
over.”
Hegelson shrugged. “If the discussion
ends, the deadline is reinstated. Ten p.m.
and Envy is toast.”
Remy kept her smile cool. “Do you
really think I came out here willingly
without some contingency plan? I
haven’t evaded you and your goons for
twenty years by being a fool. Now tell
your minions to back off or I walk
away.”
She could feel Ian’s confusion and
tension next to her, but didn’t spare him
a glance. He’d played his games. She
could play hers.
Hegelson eyed her hand, which was
still thrust in her pocket, then gestured
for the guards to step back. “Disarm,” he
said.
Remy waited until the guards were a
good distance away before removing her
hand from her pocket. Her fingers were
closed, and Hegelson’s eyes went
directly to her fist. She could feel hunger
and greed vibrating from him, and it
confused her.
Did he not realize the Mother crystal
was deadly?
She held out her hand and opened it.
“What the hell is that?” Hegelson’s
face turned furious. “What is this?”
“This is the dead crystal from your
bounty hunter Lacey,” she said. She
glanced down at the eerie object in her
hand. It looked like a large gray sun
fashioned from granite. The center was a
stone, the stone that had protruded from
Lacey’s skin. But radiating from the
stone were a multitude of tiny arms or
rays that had grown like roots or veins
through Lacey’s body. When the crystal
was alive, it brought life and immortality
to the wearer.
But now . . . it was dead.
And Hegelson clearly recognized it.
“Consider this me doing you a
favor,” Remy said. “Lacey came in close
proximity to the Mother crystal and this
is what happened to her. She died within
minutes. Marley Huvane—yes, she’s
been here in Envy all this time—did the
same. If I give you the Mother crystal,
Liam, you won’t have it in your
possession for more than ten minutes and
you’ll be dead.”
“You expect me to believe this?”
Hegelson choked. “You’re even more
foolish than I thought. I—”
“We’ve already established how
foolish I’m not,” Remy said. “I came out
here in good faith to negotiate with you,
and by doing so, Liam . . . I’ve saved
your life. Now—”
A loud noise behind her drew his
attention, and Ian’s too. Remy looked
over her shoulder and her insides
dropped.
Striding toward them with smooth,
purposeful steps was Wyatt. He was
accompanied by Simon, Elliott, Quent,
and Fence, two of them flanking him on
either side.
For a moment Remy was struck by
the sight of them. They looked like a
group of superheroes or a team of
warriors: the cluster of five men,
powerful, filled with purpose and
beautiful in their strength.
As they approached, she tried to
catch Wyatt’s eye, but he was looking at
Ian, and then Hegelson.
“Who the hell are you?” demanded
the latter, gesturing for his guards.
“I’ve come to give you what you
want,” Wyatt said, holding out a
clenched fist. “The Mother crystal—”
“No!” Remy cried, shoving at his
arm. “What the hell are you doing?” She
spun on him. Why was he ruining
everything?
“The Mother crystal.” Hegelson
fairly licked his chops . . . but then with
a glance at Remy, he seemed to recall
her warning and stepped back several
yards. “You, Morris—you get it from
him.”
“No, Wyatt,” Remy said again, trying
to shove him out of the way. “I have this
under control,” she hissed between
clenched teeth, glaring up at him as she
tried not to cry. He was so solid, and
warm, and familiar, and she was
furious
with him . . . and yet . . . he was
here.
“You’re ruining everything!”
He looked down at her for the first
time. His cold eyes softened. “Trust
me,” he said.
She drew in her breath to argue, but
something in his expression . . .
something
new . . .
stopped her. The
clutch in her gut eased. And she stepped
away. “Fine,” she said, loud enough for
the others to hear. “Give him what he
wants.”
“Morris!” Hegelson ordered. “Take
the stone into custody.” He edged back
even more, the damn coward.
“Here it is,” Wyatt said, and to
Remy’s surprise and shock, he flung the
stone from his clenched fist.
As it arched through the air in a
glittering orange blaze, Ian and Hegelson
both gave involuntary cries and started
toward it. At the same time, Wyatt
grabbed Remy by the front of her dress
and yanked her toward him.
“You aren’t going anywhere,” he
said, his eyes dark and filled with an
expression that made her insides flutter.
“Stay with me, Remy.” The next thing
she knew, he was kissing the living hell
out of her . . . and despite everything
going on around them, she had her arms
around his neck and was kissing him
back. Someone—it had to be Fence—
gave a gleeful whistle, and she heard the
low rumble of his chuckle.
But then she remembered where they
were and the situation they were in, and
she struggled out of Wyatt’s arms. “What
the hell—”
She stopped talking when she saw
what everyone around them was looking
at.
Not more than a hundred yards away
there was a column of . . . something.
Something shimmering, like heat waves
in the sun. Morris lay on the ground
nearby, struggling to pull himself to his
feet. Ian stood halfway between them
and the shimmering column, and it
wasn’t until he shifted to the side that
Remy saw the orange glow on the
ground.
“Is that . . . the Mother crystal?” she
murmured.
Wyatt nodded, sliding his arm around
her. “I told them they could have it,” he
said,
grinning.
Grinning.
Wyatt was
grinning.
Remy felt her insides explode into a
burst of warm, delicious butterflies. “So
you
can
smile,” she managed to say.
He looked down at her, that
devastating smile enough to make her
knees weak. Then it faded a little. “You
weren’t running away with Ian . . . you
were leaving
me
,” he said. “Weren’t
you?”
She frowned, uncertain what he was
trying to say. Dimly, she realized the
others had edged away, some toward the
shimmering orange crystal and others
toward the Humvees.
“I was setting you free,” she said, not
sure if it answered the question.
Regardless, it was the truth.
“And if I realized I didn’t want to be
free . . . ?”
“Then I wouldn’t be leaving.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Look,” he said, and pointed. She
saw the crowd of people around the
stone, but none of them could get close
enough to touch it. Even from where she
and Wyatt stood, she could see the heat
wavering, and fancied she could even
feel it. It was a stalemate. A checkmate.
“How long has it been like that?” she
asked.
“Since I tried to destroy it,” he told
her.
“What?
Wyatt,
no
.” Shocked and
horrified, she pulled away, but he was
shaking his head. “God, no, you
didn’t
—”
“I said ‘tried.’ ” He took her by the
shoulders and looked down at her with
sad brown eyes. “I thought I could do it
for you—to save you. But then I realized
. . . not only that I couldn’t, but that you
would never forgive me for doing it.”
“No, no, I wouldn’t want that,” she
said, her pounding heart settling.
“Never.”
“I know. And so I couldn’t do it. So I
got mad and threw it in the drawer next