“Where is in?” I looked to Wu for an answer. “Kapoor is still in town?”
The janitorial work he and his team had been doing for us must be keeping him close.
Wu gave an infinitesimal nod. “We’ll be right there.” He ended the call and met my gaze. “There’s a hotel on Soldiers Colony Road. That’s where Kapoor and his unit are staying.”
I palmed my keys and gave them a jingle, happy for the distraction. “Let’s ride.”
We took the Bronco to a boxy hotel slouched off the interstate and had our pick of parking spots. A row of six black SUVs hugged the curb near the farthest corner of the lot, and I almost made a snide comment about how common they were, but it got me curious about how many agents traveled in Kapoor’s entourage.
I hung back while Wu lead the charge past the check-in desk to the elevators. Fine hairs lifted all over my body, the sensation of being watched a prickle between my shoulder blades. I pulled on my cop face and kept my motions loose, easy; all the while my mind spun out worst case scenarios.
War had been awful quiet. I hoped this morsel of information wasn’t the bait she’d used to set a trap.
The trip to the sixth floor gave me a few seconds to calm my nerves and steady my heart. God only knows what cues charun could pick up from me, given my human upbringing. Knowing what I did about Kapoor, that he was half charun, made me question all our interactions up to this point. Had he read how I felt, what I thought, without me ever knowing the danger of letting my emotions roam untethered?
“Are you ready for this?” Wu stared down at me. “You can watch if you’d rather not participate.”
Miller and his interrogation style came to mind at his words. “I’ll bow out if you erase lines I’m not comfortable crossing.”
“All right.” He did me the courtesy of not pretending such erasure wasn’t possible and guided me down the hall to the last room on the right. He knocked, and the door swung open under his knuckles. “Special Agent Kapoor.”
Special Agent Farhan Kapoor wore faded jeans, boots, and a T-shirt with the FBI logo emblazoned across his chest. The first time we met, he was all boyish charm and black tactical gear. This time, fatigue showed in the creases around his mouth and dark eyes. The overhead lights washed out his tan skin, leaving him sallow and unwell. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept since the last time I saw him, and finding us on his doorstep didn’t appear to rejuvenate him.
“You made good time.” Kapoor extended his hand and shook Wu’s. Noticing how my nails bit into my palms, he let me off with a nod. Call me chicken, but I wasn’t eager to shake hands with him after learning the details of his job description. “Good to see you again, Ms. Boudreau.”
“Kapoor.” My gaze slid past his shoulder to the room beyond. “What have you got for us?”
“Come in, and we’ll talk.” He stepped back to allow us entry then shut and locked the door behind us. “This is Deland Bruster. He’s one of our most trusted informants.”
The man in question stepped from the bathroom, and a jolt of recognition sizzled through me. I recognized his face, but I couldn’t have put a name to it. He was average height with average looks, nondescript brown hair and eyes. He looked like every other guy on the street, which was quite a feat considering the size of Canton.
“Ma’am.” He dipped his chin at me, eyes bright, but his gaze skittered away from Wu. “Sir.”
“Go on, Deland.” Kapoor hung back, watching. “Have your look.”
Heat flashed up my nape at being made the center of attention. Any informant worth his salt would know who I was if he knew what this information meant to me, to us, but that didn’t mean I wanted to jump from Canton’s frying pan into the NSB’s fire on all future interrogations. I was used to being gawked at, but that didn’t mean I had to like it, and I sure as hell wasn’t volunteering as a traveling exhibit for them.
“Luce Boudreau.” Bruster walked a slow circle around me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m going to award bonus points right now,” I told him, “for not slipping up and calling me Conquest.”
“Nah. You’re not her. Not yet, at least.” The heat of his body warmed my spine, but he didn’t touch me. “The potential is there, don’t get me wrong, but there’s this… aura. Yeah. An aura.” He continued his evaluation, halting in front of me and stabbing me in the chest with his knobby index finger. “You’re all tangled up inside, girlie. A hot mess of cables no one can cut to diffuse the ticking time bomb under your skin without you going boom.”
His assessment had me replaying War’s troublesome revelation: “You are owned, sister, but not by me.”
One other possibility came to mind, but I didn’t want to make eye contact with it yet.
I am not owned. I am not owned. I. Am. Not. Owned.
And not, of all people, by him.
“You’re this tapestry of intent,” Bruster marveled. “The past is woven in every strand, your very core is ripe with ancient power, but the fiber spun around the whole is every bit as essential, and it’s brand-spanking-new.”
I sucked in a breath, too afraid of what he might say next to risk questioning him.
“You’re tight with your coterie,” he decided. “I see the individual strings connecting them to you, and they’re ironclad.” His finger dragged lower until it pointed straight at my heart. “This one…” He released a slow whistle. “This bond is adamantine.”
Sweat drenched my palms, and I had to wipe them dry against my pants. “What kind of bond?”
“The worst kind.” His glazed eyes as they roved over my face. “The kind that won’t snap even when both halves of it are broken.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” A bond had already snapped if it was broken.
The faint color in his eyes washed out until he stared at me with blind eyes that saw too much.
“He can’t hear you now,” Wu murmured. “He’s too far away.”
I bit down on my lip to keep from pointing out he was right there.
“How is this possible?” Bruster’s brows knitted together while he plucked at the air above my chest, the same as War had done. “You are owned. Conquest is owned.” The confusion cleared from his expression. “Clever.” His graveled chuckles rumbled through his chest. “Very clever.” He folded his fingers together then kissed the tips. “You are a masterpiece, and what artist could resist signing their name?”
Senses kicking into high gear, I demanded. “What name?”
“I told you,” Wu said again. “He can’t hear you.”
Bruster continued his narration in a dreamy voice that held traces of such immutable truth that I flinched under his inspection. Nothing I said reached his ears, nothing I did registered in his sight. Wu was right. He wasn’t with us. He was tangled in my heartstrings, knotted in my gut, gliding under my skin, a blade that cut away the excess until only the essential remained.
Without warning, Bruster’s legs buckled. Kapoor caught him under the arms and lowered him onto the foot of the bed, using his hip to prop the other man upright until Bruster began to rouse from the fugue state that had overtaken him.
“Got what I wanted,” he rasped, adjusting his weight until he supported himself with his elbows locked at his sides. “Our bargain is struck.”
“Bargain?” I snapped at Kapoor. “What bargain?”
“And the information?” Kapoor prompted him, ignoring me altogether.
“Full report is on here.” He fumbled in his pocket and produced a flash drive he offered to Kapoor. “Dates, times, photos, GPS coordinates, the works. You want to see the goods before you go?”
“I trust you.” Kapoor passed the small thumb drive over, startling the hell out of me. “Don’t look so surprised, Ms. Boudreau. You earned it. This meeting was the cost of the information in your hand.”