Chapter 9:
Warnings, disclaimers, see Chapter 1. Thanks again for the reviews – it's a rush to know someone reads what I write – enjoy!
Seraphina started as her cell phone rang. Only one person has this number. And I don't really want to talk to him right now. Sighing, she answered.
"Yes?"
"Do you have him yet?" Raines breathed on the other end. Seraphina got up and walked to the window, massaging her temples.
"Yes, sir. I'm still en route."
"Well, have you heard from Parker yet? Has he made you any offers?" He was practically gasping to get the words out. Good. Bastard.
"No, sir. But I'm expecting it sometime soon."
"Has Lyle made you any offers? Does he want to deal?" Raines sounded almost desperate, but it could have just been the emphysema. Seraphina silently hoped that it was both.
"He hasn't, sir, but I think we can assume he wants to deal. He's not stupid." A pause, in which she could hear Raines' labored breathing over the phone.
"Keep me informed." He hung up. Another enlightening conversation with the good doctor.
Seraphina sighed again as she tossed the phone to the nightstand. Raines wasn't really in a position to deal with Lyle, not if Parker came through. And even if he didn't, it was the Triumvirate that wanted Lyle in small pieces, after all. They had first crack at him. Parker was their best hope, Lyle's and Seraphina's. Why exactly he wanted Lyle back so badly was still something of a mystery to Seraphina, but he seemed to have made it clear, to Raines at least, that Parker was firmly behind Lyle, and would not be put off.
Musing on how best to broach the subject to Lyle, she was interrupted by the creak of the bathroom door, opening slowly.
***
Lyle gingerly toweled off his hair as he stepped out of the shower, careful not to touch the nasty, bruised laceration on his forehead. He looked into the steamy mirror. Much better. He looked down at his discarded clothes. No way am I putting those back on. Sighing, he wrapped himself in a towel and opened the bathroom door, ready to face Seraphina and demand some answers.
There she was, sitting on the bed where he had left her. She gave him a slight smile as he approached her, patting the bed beside her and holding a pair of scissors, with which, he assumed, she was going to remove his bandages. He was about to go to her when he noticed the gun.
Careless. It was right there, large as life, on the chair near the bed. It was still within her reach, but, he calculated, he could reach it before she did. Come on. She'll think I'm stupid if I don't go for it. Stupid, or timid, neither of which is true. Lyle thought for a moment, then did what he always did – he followed his instincts.
She didn't look surprised at all as he lunged for the gun. She just sat there, dropped the scissors, stared at him. Cornered. Now he was going to get some fucking answers. The largish gun, a .38, was in her face. Lyle could not refrain from smirking.
"All right. I want some answers, now." She shut her eyes a moment, then returned her eyes to his, still calm, questioning.
"Who do you really work for?"
"I work for the Centre," she said calmly. He was about to wave the gun and ask for more when she said, "Mr. Raines, specifically." Raines. Now he was getting somewhere.
"And what does Raines want from me? He could have sent someone to kill me easily enough. But he sent you. Why?"
She cast her eyes down and smiled modestly.
"I have earned his trust, if one may use that word. He has faith in my abilities. He has been made to understand that you must not be harmed. So he sent me, and not a Cleaner." Lyle was taken aback. Not to be harmed? Then what the fuck was this all about? And her voice was different. Colder. More focused.
"If you're not a Cleaner, what is it precisely that you do?"
Her eyes twinkled. "A little of this, a little of that. Kind of like you, before you left." Like me. Yeah fucking right.
"Look, I'm sorry, Seraphina, but I have trouble believing the Centre is just going to let me slide." He got closer, sitting beside her on the bed, gun between them, large and menacing. He lowered his voice threateningly, a malevolent purr. "What's really going on, hmm?"
She turned to face him, still meeting his eyes steadily. It was unnerving, but she had revealed herself. He definitely wasn't imagining it.
"You have powerful patrons. Patrons who are willing to sacrifice much for your return, in anticipation of your loyalty." Patrons my ass. Everyone who isn't completely fucking terrified of me hates my guts. Or just doesn't know me very well. He cocked the gun. She held her ground.
"Like who, for instance?"
"Before I tell you, you should know something else. I told you before I was here on my own behalf. I think we have a lot to offer each other." Ha. Right.
"I don't know, Seraphina, I'd find that statement a lot more compelling if I didn't have a gun in your face." She ignored him.
"I know all about you. About your past. Who you were, how you grew up, what Raines did to you." Lyle stiffened. He did not like where this conversation was going at all.
"I know you hate him. Truth be told, so do I. And I know you're ambitious. Even if he were not an immediate danger to you, Raines is still a hindrance. He knows where too many bodies are buried." Lyle swallowed hard.
"And so, it would seem, do you." He wanted to cut her off quickly, before she could say more. Lyle did not care to hear about his past. He thought about it enough already. He stood, pointing the gun at her.
"You won't shoot me," she said, calmly.
"You think I won't?" Lyle said, his voice rising slightly. Never tell me I won't. I'll tend to do things just for spite.
"Oh, I think you would," she said, looking into his eyes. "But you're not going to." What the fuck? Lyle had had enough.
"Sorry. I was starting to like you, a little bit." She was still smiling that goddamn smile, like the cat that ate the fucking canary. She was still smiling as he pulled the trigger.
Click.
Fuck. Now I feel stupid.
Before he had a chance to curse, or lunge, or anything at all, she had reached behind her and pulled up a gun from under the pillow. She cocked it at his chest.
"I assure you, this one is loaded." Lyle was slightly panicked, but more irritated. And embarrassed. Quite. He concentrated hard on not turning red.
"Why did you just let me go on like that, then?" He asked, exasperated.
"Now that I have your attention," she said pointedly, "Let me continue. As I said, I know you must want Raines out of the way. And, as I said, you have allies. Mr. Parker, for one, is very interested in your safe return to some power at the Centre."
"Parker?" Lyle couldn't help it. He had busted the man's balls repeatedly about the hunt for Jarod last year. He had gotten the distinct impression that the elder Parker did not care for him any more than his daughter did.
"I'll admit I was a little surprised at first when I heard. But I think I understand." Lyle waited, watched her.
"He wants you to do his dirty work for him, it would seem. Take Raines down." Makes sense. Why are you telling me this? "Of course, I leave it to your imagination what will happen after that happy day, assuming Raines doesn't kill you first."
"One day at a time," Lyle said sardonically, but his mind was working again. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Like I said," she shrugged, "I know about you. And I think we can help each other. We can have everything, no more taking orders from Raines or anyone else. And besides, you must want revenge." Revenge. There's that word again.
"Revenge generally doesn't come without a price," Lyle said cautiously, considering.
"Well," she said, lowering the gun, removing the clip. "I'll let you think about it. I should hear from Mr. Parker sometime tonight. As soon as he lets me know it's safe, I bring you back to the Centre. In the meantime, let me re-bandage you, and then try to get some sleep." Lyle nodded dumbly. He submitted mutely as she carefully checked and re-bandaged his hand, his side, his arm. She picked up a pill bottle from the nightstand and silently shook it at him. Vicodin.
"If you need it. Good night, Mr. Lyle." He watched her silently as she left, picking up both the guns, her sweater, her cell phone, pausing at the door to turn out the lights. She had not cuffed him. It was a little arrogant on her part. But he was just too goddamn tired. And confused.
As Lyle stretched out on the bed, all remaining energy deserted him. His eyes closed, his mind sputtering like a damaged truck engine. Seraphina not a moron. Parker. What the fuck? Back to the Centre. Home sweet home, indeed.