Falcon (Kindred, #5)

EIGHT-2

But it was just that, a fairy tale, there was no way it could be true.

“You should be grateful. I’m grateful,” Rig said. “And I’ve made it damn clear to Rave that I’ll do whatever the f**k he wants. My a*s belongs to him for this.”

Concern shook loose her melancholy thoughts. “Will he call that in? What favor will he want?” Hoping that her brother hadn’t sold his soul, or whatever soul he had left, she didn’t want him to be roped into anything negative just because he cared for her enough to barter himself for her safety. Whatever they asked him to do could be a thousand times worse than the fate he’d saved her from.

“He’ll call it in,” Rig said. “When the time is right. But he only calls in favors when he needs them; the Kindred keep as much in-house as they can. He’ll keep it real. It won’t be shady. Well, it’s always shady.” She could hear his smile radiating down the phone line. “But it won’t be any kinky s**t, and I won’t be asked to take the fall.”

Rig seemed to have it so under control. He was calm and she didn’t know how he could be so together when he’d just admitted owing such an intense man a favor. “I owe Rave from way back,” Rig carried on. “It kinda works on tit for tat, we end up even eventually.”

“What about the rest of them?” she asked, since she had the opportunity to find out what her brother knew. “The other people he works with, what do you know about them?”

“He works with his girl, Swallow, she’s hot. That’s about as much as I know about her. Rave’s protective, seriously protective.”

So Swallow was still a mystery. “What about the guy who patches them up?” she asked, referring to Wren as he had. “And...” As much as she trusted her brother, he’d made it clear the Kindred didn’t want to be exposed and he hadn’t mentioned Zave, so she didn’t know if he knew him. Searching her recollection for what Bess had said, she elected to use his apparent alias as opposed to his real name, just in case. “Falcon, what do you know about them?”

“They call themselves the Kindred,” he said. “Haven’t met them all. I know Rave and Swift the best.”

Swift was an unfamiliar name, and he wasn’t here. Remembering what they’d said about their computer genius, about the man on their team who could hack any computer system, and she wondered if that was his name.

Torn between her instinct to flee and her desire to stay, she couldn’t decipher what the right course of action was. “All I wanted to do was get out of here,” she admitted. “But they’ve treated me so well and I didn’t trust them. But now they need my help and if you’re vouching for them... I suppose I should do what I can.”

“There are worse groups to get involved with,” he said. “You know how I feel about you messing with gangs or ex-cons or anyone like that.” He’d always been adamant about her staying far away from criminality, and she’d never had a problem with that. “So it should tell you something about how decent these folks are that I’m not telling you to get your a*s out of dodge.”

That was a fair point, she thought, lying down on the bed and stretching her toes toward the end. After being stuck in that metal box where she couldn’t even lie down, let alone stretch out, this was a luxury that she didn’t want to take for granted.

“Those there are good people,” Rig said. “They go about things in a... direct kinda way. But they’ll protect you, Von. Wherever the f**k they’re keeping you, I guarantee no bullshit human traffickers will get their filthy hands on you there.”

The Kindred needed her help now, but she couldn’t live here forever. She would eventually have to venture back into the real world, onto the mainland of the United States, into a city somewhere, an apartment. She’d have to get a job, she’d have to use the subway and eat in diners and buy clothes. Devon couldn’t stay locked in a fortress forever.

Sitting up to look towards the window on the left wall, past the end of the bed, she could see tiny segments of the ocean through the clear square panes of the mosaic window. Here was unknown. But it was safe. Out there was danger and when she had to face it, she would be alone. She wouldn’t have anyone with her to watch out for her. There wouldn’t be fingerprint locks to hide behind or Bess to bring her food and look after her. There would be no Wren to nurse her back to health and no Zave to make her blush.

“I’ll help them,” she said. “But when I leave here, can I come and stay with you for a bit? You said you had that big house now, there must be space for—”

“This isn’t a place for you,” he said. “You know I’d love to have you, and I’ll never see you on the streets, but all my guys are here and I don’t trust them. s**t goes down here that I don’t want you involved in, you could get hurt.”

“I understand,” she said, nodding at no one. Devon picked at the cover she was sitting on.

This was her brother’s usual rhetoric when she asked to be a part of his life. He would send her money without asking what it was for, he’d come and stay when she wanted to see him. But when she asked to be let into his world, he slammed the door in her face every time. He was trying to protect her, and she did appreciate that he cared so much to do that, but it often left her feeling alone in the world.

She had loose friendships with colleagues, but she changed workplaces so often that none of them ever stuck. Devon would say hello to neighbors but never formed a connection with them. Maybe Rig was right, maybe she was trying to keep everyone at arm’s length because she was afraid to let them in. Because if she did that and then they rejected her, it would be a reflection on how poor her character was.

Her dad had died in prison, in a riot, when she was young. All through school she’d been told gruesome stories of the things he’d done. Some of them were true, some of them were fable. Rig would never confirm or deny which were which. Kids loved to taunt and for years called her “Con-Von” because her father was always in jail. Her classmates’ treatment of her taught her to retreat, to hide in the corners, and not to put herself out there. On Daddy-Daughter Day, no one showed up to support her, she had no one to contribute on Career Day either.

Anyone who tried to approach her or bully her when Rig was around got dealt a swift blow. But when he hit his teenage years and got involved with his first crew, for a long time he seemed to be going down the same path as their father. Devon wasn’t naïve, Rig could end up the same way.

And then there was the day she’d come home to find her mother dead with a needle in her arm. For years after that, she was numb, most of her teenage years were a blank. There were care homes that never stuck and foster parents who just wanted the income. Then Rig set her up in her own place, because even back then, his crew came first.

She worked hard to support herself and was proud of what she’d done. But what it had taught her was that she didn’t need to rely on anyone because she could do everything herself as long as she kept her head down and her nose clean.

That might have worked when life was going along fine, but it meant that when she was in trouble, when she’d gone missing, there was no one to notice. She didn’t ask Rig when he noticed something was wrong, whether it had taken him a day or a week or a month to realize that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

They rung off with assurances that they would talk again, though she made it clear that she had no say, as Bess had advised she would be taking the phone away. Rig said he would talk to Raven and they’d figure something out. Then he made a comment about getting back to a scam he had running, and she knew his attention had moved on.

When his baby sister was in trouble, he mobilized and fixed it. Now she was out of that darkness, and he didn’t need to be alert anymore. Promising him that she would do all she could for the Kindred, Devon couldn’t tell him about her concerns. Rig wasn’t much interested in the emotional side of their relationship.

He told her he loved her and proved by his actions that he did. But he wouldn’t be interested in listening to her prattle on about how nervous she was at the idea of recounting her a*******n experience or talking about her life in the metal box. Exposing her fears, her thoughts, and her plans while she’d existed in that hell.

There had been a time in that dark hole, when she’d craved death and considered how she might go about taking back control and ending her own suffering. Her whole body had ached, she’d been so weak, Devon just wanted to die. It must have been only a few weeks into her stay, just as the starvation started to kick in. A few scraps a day wasn’t nearly enough to survive on. The amount got less and the frequency of feeding time became more erratic the longer she was there.

Devon had noticed in her last few days here that Bess was right about her being skin on bone. Devon would need to work hard to return to how she was, eating properly, exercising, taking care of herself. Just as she thought that Bess might be the best one to help her with that, Devon’s bedroom door opened and her attention leaped up to the door, which was to the right, opposite the large window.

“All done?” Bess asked.

Something she’d always wondered about made her ask, “How do you know when I’m finished?” she asked, casting a look around the ceiling. “You told me there were no cameras, but how do you—”

“There are no cameras, not in this room,” Bess said. “There are cameras in other parts of the house.” She came over to the end of the bed. “But those are there to protect me.”

Devon didn’t follow how Bess could be at risk in this place that was apparently so safe. “Protect you?”

“When the boys are off doing their thing, Falcon and Raven, they’re often away. Raven can be gone for months at a time. Falcon’s usually just a few days. But,” she said and her smile grew wide. “Those boys do like to fuss over me. And if one’s not around, the other has to watch and check in on me. They tag each other in and out of babysitting old Bess.”

“Does Raven live here? Raven and Swallow, full-time?”

Bess shook her head. “They have a house, identical to this one actually,” she said, holding open her arms. “But it’s on the East Coast.”

“Identical?” That was a weird, but intriguing, idea. “Why would...?”

“It’s a long story,” Bess said. “And one I’m sure you’ll hear from the horse’s mouth.”

A frisson of excitement sizzled within her hips. “Does he want to see me?” Bess could only be referring to Zave. Raven wasn’t going to tell a*********s, he shut Wren up at the lunch table and Zave was definitely in control here.

“Not yet,” Bess said and came around to take the phone from Devon’s two clutching hands. “He won’t surface for a while.”

“Surface? He’s sleeping?”

Bess shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Who knows with that boy,” she said, almost tutting as she smiled like a fed up but amused mother. “He locks himself up in his part of the house for days or weeks sometimes. He always comes out again in his own time. Knowing that you’re waiting and that there’s work to do, he’ll be quick about it this time, I’m sure.”

“His part of the house? He has his own part of the house?”

“Yes, he does. He always has, since he bought this place when he was a kid. But I shouldn’t say too much about that,” Bess said.

“Still secretive,” she sighed. Every time she felt like she took a step forward, someone was there to pull her straight back.

“You’ve made amazing progress,” Bess said, slipping the phone into her pocket to sit on the edge of the bed. “Zave has never spoken directly to any woman they’ve brought back from those places. And you say he was spying on you? If that’s true, I’d take that as a compliment. He hasn’t shown any interest in women in a long time.”

Not saying too much only extended so far, because that was probably the most intriguing thing that Bess could’ve said. “How long?” she heard herself asking.

Flattening both hands on the bed between them, Bess covered Devon’s hands when they were down. Her smile returned. “I just want you to know that you’ve gotten in, and we’re grateful that you have. Just don’t hurt him.”

Devon wasn’t sure that she would know how to hurt any man let alone a man as strong and stoic as Zave was. “Did he tell you what happened last night?” she asked, looking at their overlaying hands.

“No specifics, except that you’ll be dealing directly with him when it comes to Kindred business. Don’t be surprised if Raven and Swallow check out soon. They’re sort of in the middle of their own adventure.”

“Then why did they come here?”

“Because they’re Kindred,” Bess said. “They drop everything for each other when the need arises. Prioritizing is sort of Swallow’s specialty, she’ll let them know which case or mission is most pressing. Recently, that’s been you.”

It was probably meant to be a compliment, but Devon didn’t like to think of herself as a case or as a mission. Certainly not as she pertained to Zave. “I deal with him directly?” she asked and Bess nodded.

“There’s one more thing.”

Devon didn’t know what else there could be, but Bess got up from the bed and scurried out of the room. Sitting on her own, Devon wasn’t sure if she was supposed to follow or if she was supposed to wait. She was usually given instructions when they wanted her to do something or not to do something. But before she could take action or call out, Bess came back in carrying a wooden box.

“What is that?” Devon asked when Bess set the large box over the footboard onto the end of the bed.

“Open it.” Crawling to the end, she unhooked the small brass latch and made eye contact with an exuberant Bess before she lifted the hinged lid and looked down. “He said it was important to you.”

The tiered box opened in three layers. The bottom section held a shining new sketch pad, in each of the other tiers were pencils and pastels. “Oh my god,” Devon whispered.

“It’s not a full set,” Bess said. “He’s working on that.”

The tears that had dried after her call with her brother sprung out again. Running her fingers over the thick, premium paper, she wanted to use every pencil and pastel all at once.

“There isn’t much to draw in here, but you can wander around the house. I wouldn’t advise you to go outside, he doesn’t want you to get lost. But the windows open and—”

“Thank you,” Devon said, closing the box to lay her hands on it because she was just too overwhelmed to handle his generosity. “Tell him I say thank you.”

“You can tell him yourself,” Bess said. “He plans to meet with you as soon as he’s finished whatever he’s doing in his secret lair. Dinner I’d imagine, maybe breakfast, but he’ll come for you soon.”

Bess receded from the room. Alone with her gift, Devon was still high from her conversation with her brother. She almost couldn’t believe this was the same house she’d been afraid of just a day or two ago. Now it seemed like a wondrous palace full of happiness and kindness, and she couldn’t be afraid anymore.

Maybe if Rig hadn’t given his seal of approval she’d have been suspicious that these people were trying to buy her affection or her loyalty. But if Rig said she was safe here, she knew she was safe. She didn’t know how she would begin to express to Zave how grateful she was for everything he’d done and for who he was.

Bess had told Devon not to hurt him and she still didn’t know what that meant, but if things carried on the way they were at the moment, Devon feared she would be the one left devastated when she was forced to leave this place and return to reality.