Kori shrugged. “Pretty good. But what does that matter, if you’re going to sign anyway?” Which I’d told her I’d do. The lies were getting complicated.

“That would be robbing me of my last day of freedom, and I really want this last day, Kori. If I’m going to be stuck either bound to or running from the syndicate for the rest of my life, I’m damn sure going to have one last day of freedom. If you’d known what was coming before you signed, wouldn’t you have wanted the same thing?”

“I still want that,” she said, and the truth of the statement echoed in her words. And suddenly I had to know.

“Was Olivia right? If I refuse to sign, will Tower kill me?” I could hardly see her eyes in the dim light, but I saw enough to know there was something she hadn’t wanted to say in front of Olivia and Cam.

“Yes. And if you were a normal potential recruit, he’d probably put a bullet in your brain. But because you’re special and everyone wants you, if I can’t recruit you I’m under orders to take you to Heartland Pharmaceuticals.”

“You’d turn me into a vegetable?” The choice wasn’t hers. I knew that. But it still hurt to hear her talk about my death.

“Not me. Jake. And no, not a vegetable. The whole world knows about you, Ian, and half the city knows Jake’s trying to recruit you. If you disappear, people will try to track you, and if you’re alive—even as a vegetable—they’ll find you. If I can’t recruit you, Jake won’t be able to use you as a blood cow. So he’ll have you completely drained.”

Nineteen

Kori

Ian’s eyes widened, but he looked more hurt than surprised. He’d known, at least on some level, that there were only two ways out of the mess we were both in: service or death.

And with the latest betrayal to slide off my tongue, most of my secrets were out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you that this morning, but then you said you’d sign, so I didn’t see any reason to threaten you with death and the posthumous sale of your blood.”

“You’d really do it? You’d turn me over to be drained just because Tower told you to?” The disappointment and betrayal in his gaze stung like little else I’d ever felt.

“I—” The answer was there, ready to go. It didn’t require thought. So little did, with Jake pulling my strings. But the words wouldn’t come out, and the new thoughts blocking them made me close my mouth. Then my eyes.

What good would it do to turn him over to Jake? Both Kenley and I were screwed anyway, if things went that far south.

“I honestly don’t know,” I said at last. “Physically, I’d have no choice. Resisting the compulsion would kill me unless Jake rescinded the order. And he won’t. But if I turn you over to him, he’ll kill me anyway, for failing to recruit you. So…”

And suddenly it all looked so clear.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Because I was going to die either way, and at least this way, I’d go out without having first killed an innocent man. Ever. And that might just be the only point of honor for me to look back on if my life really flashed before my eyes in those last few seconds.

I’d killed for Jake, of course. I’d had no choice. But he had never—up till now—ordered me to kill someone who wasn’t at least as guilty as I was.

Ian’s gaze never left mine. He was watching me think, and I wondered if he could read any of those thoughts on my face.

“You know none of that matters, though, right?” I said. “If I don’t hand you over to Jake, someone else will.”

“None of it matters, because I’m going to sign,” he said, and again I wished for just a second that I was a Reader. He looked like he meant it, but he also looked like there was something he wasn’t saying.

I thought about demanding the whole truth, right there on the spot, but then, in an unprecedented display of common sense, I held my tongue. Some secrets are kept for a reason and spilling them prematurely can mean spilling blood, as well. His silence was meant to protect someone. Probably himself, but maybe me. So I decided to wait.

Then I hoped I’d made the right decision.

“We should take Tower a bottle,” Ian said when he finally looked away, and some small bit of the tension inside me eased. “What does he like?”

“I don’t know. Something dark red.”

“You’ve eaten with him, right? What does he order most often?”

I’d spent years shadowing Jake. Protecting him. I’d seen him order dinner a thousand times.

He liked a thick cut of tenderloin, still cool in the middle. His baked potato came with salt and butter only, his mashed with a hint of garlic. And to drink, he ordered…

“Cabernet Sauvignon. Sometimes Bordeaux.”

“Okay.” Ian nodded. “Bordeaux is a blend, and I’m not familiar with this label, so the Cab may be a better bet.” He started pulling bottles from the racks, reading the labels then sliding them back into place, working his way down one aisle and into the next until finally he read a label and smiled. “This should work.” He held the bottle up for me to see, but other than the familiar icon on the label, I had no idea what I was looking at. “And maybe one for us…” He handed me the wine, then turned back to the rack.

I studied the bottle I held, surprised by how thick the glass was, especially at the bottom, where there was a pronounced dip in the base—a mountain of glass rising into the dark liquid. In the movies, I’d seen people whack bad guys with beer bottles, but holding my very first bottle of wine, I was convinced that it would make a much more effective weapon. Assuming I could compensate for the greater weight. Maybe an empty bottle…