Fate's Edge

Kaldar turned. His mouth fell open. A pale pink suit bordered with black embraced Audrey’s perfect figure. Her hair was brushed and sprayed until it looked glossy and slightly stiff. A wide hat perched on her hair at an angle. Her makeup was heavy and flawless. Her jewelry would’ve made any self-respecting conman come to attention: bloated gold rings encrusted with diamonds; a tennis bracelet so iced, it was bordering on vulgar; diamond earrings; and, to top it all off, a heavy chain of gold beads studded with tiny diamond dots. She looked like a politician’s trophy wife, full of money and ready to take “shop until you drop” to the next level. She was absolutely perfect, from the hat to the pointed toes of her thousand-dollar spiked heels.

 

Audrey cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows, pointedly looking at the chair in front of her. Kaldar got off his ass and held it out for her. She landed, one leg over the other, her French tip manicured fingers holding a tiny pink purse. He sat next to her, and the heavy scent of roses emanating from her almost made him sneeze.

 

“Jonathan Berman,” he said, inclining his head.

 

“Olivia Berman.” She held her hand out, and he kissed her fingers.

 

“Charmed.”

 

“So do I look like I’m ready to spend some money I didn’t earn?”

 

“You look divine,” he told her, and meant every word. “Former beauty queen marries a wealthy asshole; all the means, none of the taste. Yonker will eat it up.”

 

Audrey examined him, leaned over, and adjusted the knot on his tie. “You look pretty good yourself. The slicked-back hair is a nice touch.”

 

“I was going for rich sleazeball.”

 

“You got it.”

 

They looked at each other for a long moment. She smiled, and he grinned back, unable to help himself.

 

“Why did you walk away from stealing?” Kaldar asked. And he just blurted it out. Brilliant move. Simply brilliant. Such finesse, such perfect timing.

 

“A lady never reveals all of her secrets,” Audrey told him with a smug wink.

 

He probably could’ve come up with some clever retort if his mind had stopped imagining peeling off her clothes.

 

“Any word from the boys?” she asked.

 

“Nothing.” Nothing was good; it meant the plan was proceeding as scheduled.

 

“What happens if Ed Yonker tries to check us out?”

 

Kaldar shrugged. “While you were getting the war paint on, I checked on a few things. Ed Yonker just put in a bid on the Graham Building. It’s an old theater and a perfect location for him: its back faces an Edge bubble. I imagine he now ferries people into the Edge. If he obtains Graham’s, he’ll be set up just like Magdalene. He put in the highest bid—eleven million.”

 

“And?”

 

“I put in one, too.”

 

She stared at him.

 

“It’s Friday afternoon. It will take them at least a business day to run credit checks and other things. I’ve spent a long time building up this identity. Jonathan Berman has rock-solid credit and owns enough fictitious real estate to buy Donald Trump. If they dig deeper, we’re in trouble, but they won’t until Monday, and by Monday, we need to be gone. Shall we?”

 

“We shall.”

 

He tossed some bills on the table, rose, and held out his hand to help her from her chair. She put her hand in his, and he gently led her down to the parking lot.

 

“It must hurt to burn an identity like that,” Audrey said.

 

“Small price to pay.”

 

“How do you do it? How do you keep up with things in the Weird and in the Broken?”

 

“A gentleman never reveals all of his secrets.”

 

She laughed, leaning her head to the side, and Kaldar wanted to kiss her neck. “Please. You’re dying to boast.”

 

“All right.” He shrugged. “I’ve spent most of my life trading with the Broken. I know many useful people, and I make it a point to remember their names and the names of their wives or husbands. I’m pleasant and charming, and I always come bearing gifts, so they don’t mind doing me small favors.”

 

“Why do you do this, Kaldar? Is it for the thrill?”

 

“That’s part of it.”

 

“And the rest?”

 

“I want the Hand to suffer,” he said. “I’d burn all my identities and start clean if I had to.”

 

“To kill one of them?”

 

He knew his face had gone predatory, but he didn’t bother to hide it. “Oh no. I want the whole thing.”

 

“The entire Hand?”

 

“Yes. I want to end the entire organization as we know it.”

 

Audrey blinked. “You’re aiming high.”

 

“The last feud my family endured lasted for over a century.” He allowed himself a small smirk. “Mars hold grudges.”

 

“I’ll have to take care never to feud with you,” she said.

 

“I wish you would feud with me. Then, when I won, I’d reap sweet rewards.”

 

“Picturing me as your love slave?” Audrey laughed.

 

Kaldar nodded. “And you are divine.”

 

“And what if I won?”

 

“Then I would be your love slave, of course.”

 

“So you’d win in either case.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Audrey searched his face for something, then bit her lip. “Did you get us new wheels?” she asked.

 

Kaldar gave her a flat look. “Please.” He dipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out the remote, and pressed the button. A black Hummer answered with a short beep.

 

“A Hummer?” Her Southern accent was getting thicker by the second. “Shooog, you shouldn’t have.”

 

“Only the best for my doll.”

 

She reached over and patted his cheek. “It’s too bad this partnership will be over soon. We’d own this town.”

 

Huh. “It doesn’t have to be over soon.”

 

“Oh no, it does. It definitely does.”

 

 

 

 

 

JACK watched the huge, shiny car swing into the street. They had been giving out flyers for most of the day. The two of them kept to themselves, and they had gotten most of their flyers handed out and had had to go back to get a second stack. Paul, the guy with the placard, even complimented them. At lunch, George and he got a sandwich each and some bottled water. The sandwich was okay, but nothing like Rose’s cooking.

 

He missed Rose. It stabbed at him suddenly. He missed his sister, her voice, her scent, his room, his stuff. He missed the smell of the house. He even missed Declan. It all seemed so far away somehow. Jack shook his head, trying to clear the memories. Now wasn’t the time to get all sad and whiny. George had let Paul talk them into a few more hours of work with the promise of a hot dinner. Jack had made all the right “I want more food” noises, and George finally reluctantly agreed.

 

Ilona Andrews's books