Bone Deep(12)

She settled back. It was at least thirty miles from their destination, and she let the silence grow until it stretched taut.

Then she questioned him. “Who is she?”

He glanced at her, blond eyebrow raised. She compared him automatically to Dmitry. Their coloring was similar, their heights close, their build the same but that was where the comparisons ended. Dmitry was classically handsome—broad forehead, sculpted cheekbones, and patrician nose. Grant was a bruiser. His face, while not ugly, was the farthest thing from handsome Bone could imagine. He looked like he’d been in more bar fights than his face could handle and his nose had two bumps in it from several breaks.

“Who you talkin’ about, sugar?” he asked slowly.

“The dumb hick cowboy act doesn’t work with me, Grant. I’ve known you too long now. You know who I speak of and trust me when I say that if you don’t tell me who she is, and soon, I’ll stalk her and take her life. Don’t make me cut her short.”

The car skidded to a stop. He turned to her, aggressive intent in every line of his body. “You won’t hurt her. I’ll kill you first.”

Bone threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, Grant, that’s funny. But if you’re worried, simply tell me who she is. She’s been tracking us since Bullet was in Arequipa, maybe longer. Then she showed up in China with Arrow. If she’s one of Joseph’s gone rogue, perhaps we can work together.”

Grant gazed forward. She watched him control his own need to strike. She was ready for anything and after the small altercation with Dmitry, she had a vicious need to expend more volatile energy. It didn’t matter who she took it out on at this point.

He exhaled and rolled his head on his shoulders. “It is not my story to tell and you’ll either accept that or we’ll get to the nitty-gritty right here, darlin’,” he bit out.

“I can’t kill you, Grant. I might hate that you’re a necessity, but you’re important to my sisters.”

He snorted. “I don’t like you much either, Bone. And who’s to say I wouldn’t kill you?”

It was her turn to snort. “I saved your ass, Grant. If Joseph knew what you’d done, he’d wipe you from the face of the earth. You can’t kill me because you owe me and I know that black heart of yours has a white streak in it. But let me reiterate—if she makes a move toward us, I will kill her. She isn’t as good as us and it shows. She’s held nothing back, but like you, she’s slower, less inclined to make a kill shot than we are.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asked conversationally, though he made no move to continue driving.

“She doesn’t hate as we do,” Bone answered him simply. She’d analyzed the situation for a while, had her own idea of who the woman was and why she was dogging them.

She would not share those ideas with her sisters, not yet, though she knew they too remembered the night that had changed everything for them. They’d been created in the light of a morning, but the darkness of a single night four years later had given them a purpose beyond death.

He laughed, and the sound was harsh in the silence. “She defines hatred, Bone. You and your sisters, as much as you’ve been through, have no idea what formed that one.”

The quiet grew again and Bone let it. “Keep her out of our line of sight and she’ll live. That’s my final warning, Grant. You are obviously tied to this woman somehow. Maybe she’s one you saved? You’ve saved a few over the years, haven’t you? I don’t know and I don’t care. Just keep her away.”

He said nothing, simply shook his head and finally put the car in gear.

“Asinimov will find out it was you,” Grant told her.

“He will,” she affirmed. She knew exactly what he spoke of and the deflection from his problem to hers didn’t go unnoticed.

“What will you do then?”

Grant seemed genuinely concerned. She couldn’t help but wonder at the reason. “Why do you care?”

“He is a killer. Oh, I know you and your sisters have seen a side of him others may not have. The side that protects and heals. Make no mistake, the man is just a breath away from being what his father was.”

She turned her gaze to Grant and studied his features. “You know something else you aren’t sharing, Mr. Fielding. That’s not very nice.”

He shrugged. “You only call me Mr. Fielding when you’re pissed. And yes, I know a lot I don’t share. It’s what makes me valuable.”

She rolled her eyes again. “I’m waiting.”

“Both Dmitry’s father and Dmitry himself were trained by the same one who trained Joseph.”

He dropped that bomb and Bone’s insides froze. The thought of Dmitry in the hands of Badr Abela made her skin prickle and her hands clench. Badr Abela had been a Dutch-born Moroccan mixed-martial arts master. Versed in kick-boxing, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, Jeet Kun Doo, Muay Thai and plain old gutter fighting, he had been a preeminent killer. If you wanted to learn a million ways to kill, or die, he was who you sought. He’d also been a sadist. He enjoyed pain—his, but more importantly, other people’s. If anyone had been born evil, it was Badr Abela.

“I see that caught your attention,” Grant mused. “Perhaps now you understand my concern when it comes to your safety once Dmitry finds out the truth of his father’s passing.”