Page 128 of Throwing Fire

Gotta admire the woman’s backbone. “Okay. Whaddo you got?”

“Miz Hata is extremely bright.”

“No argument there. She’s had me runnin’ around in fuckin’ circles, chasing my tail.”

“You must consider what she wants, and what you are able to give her.”

“This ain’t a negotiation, Payton. It’s an interrogation. What she wants don’t mean shit to me an’ the only thing she’s gettin’ is dead. I got zero tolerance for betrayal. You understand me?”

“I do.” Payton nods. “You should consider that she’s anticipated this. She may have taken a pain damper to stop herself from cracking under interrogation. She may have leverage she hasn’t revealed yet.”

“That’d make sense,” Exeter offers.

“She still ain’t gonna like watchin’ me carve her up, whether or not she feels it,” I say.

“Perhaps, but I’ll go back to my original point. What does she want, and what can you give her?”

I don’t know what she wants. But I’ll give her anything to get Kez back. Anything.

There’sa full security team waiting when we land in Hemos. There’s a bad moment where I think we might not have any friends left in Tyng Tower. Then the point man offers me his hand, and I blow out the breath I was holding before I shake it.

I get a fast briefing as we walk past theInfinity, across the landing pad on top of the Tower. They’re holding Myhre in the security offices; she hasn’t said anything. Mother Jo hasn’t told them why Myhre was detained. I can feel the weight of the speculation going on behind twelve pairs of eyes. Chiara reported in this morning and left for her transport to Jielt with her security detail on schedule. She’s not due in Jielt yet, so as far as anyone knows, she’s stillen route. I decide not to tip my hand. For now, I’ll give Mike-the-Merc the benefit of the doubt.

I delegate a dozen tasks in the lift down to the security offices and when we get out of the lift, the team peels off in as many directions, like a tegli spreading its tentacles. I adjust the sling on my arm, feeling marginally more in control, but there’s still that hideous gnawing in my chest as the seconds tick by and Kez gets closer and closer to the fucker who plans to take her apart.

As we walk towards the security office where they’re holding Myhre, Payton puts her hand on my good arm. “A bent tool is better than none,” she says.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I growl.

“I understand how you’re feeling.” Her dark eyes flick up to mine. “How much you must want to hurt someone right now. Believe me, I completely understand. But please think before you do anything you can’t undo.”

“You see me startin’ to lose it, you say ‘live kittens’,” I tell her.

“’Live kittens’?”

“Yeah. That’ll calm me right down.”

Or maybe thinkin’ about my kitten dying at Jaxon’s hands will ramp me up to snapping Myhre’s fucking neck.

“Okay,” Payton says uncertainly. “Sawhet, when we enter the room, I want all recording terminated. Everything, even security. Relay that to Mother Jo over the secure channel.”

Guess she ain’t buying the safe word thing.

Mech Tyng nods.

Within the security office, Myhre’s sitting in one of the securecubes. It’s just an empty office with no windows, soundproofing and a door that locks. There’s a table and a couple of chairs and the ubiquitous black panel of the AI’s sensors in the ceiling. When I unlock the door with my thumb, Myhre rises from lotus position on the floor, takes one of the chairs and crosses her legs. It’s jarring to see her sitting in a chair instead of on one of her kneelers.

I hope it makes her fucking uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick from face to face. Narrow a little when she sees Payton. But she says evenly, “Snow.”

I close the door behind Mech Tyng and lean back against it. “Myhre.”

I wait until Payton and Mech Tyng have taken chairs and Exeter’s assumed duty stance beside the door. Then I cross the room in three long strides, tossing the table out of my way, grabbing Myhre out of the chair with my good hand, and kicking her chair out of my way. I hold her at arm’s length.

She gasps at my sudden movement and tries to twist away from me, which I expected. All she accomplishes is lining herself up for the kick that breaks her right knee.

She screams, high and thin, and when I let her go, drops flat to the ground and curls around her broken joint.