I can hear you laughing at the idea of me writing a letter. I never did write you romantic love notes like Jorge did to Fiorella, even after you hinted so hard you may as well have hit me over the head with a hammer. Why should I write letters, I thought, when my Nina is here beside me, and I can love her with my voice, my hands, my body?
But now I’ve lost you and all I have left is paper and ink.
I saw you go over the cliff into the river. I made you jump. I thought you’d be safe, that the waters would carry you away from the carnage.
The silence here is ugly, obscene. A heavy shroud.
In the months since the Psy murdered all those we loved, I’ve returned here many times hoping you’d made your way back, but I’ve found no trace of you. No one knows of a woman who came out of the river. No one has heard of my Nina. I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up. Because from the day I first grew old enough to remember my own thoughts, I knew two things: That I was a man of God, and that one day, I would marry you.
I’ll find you, Nina. No matter what it takes or how long I have to search. I’ll find you.
Your Xavier
Chapter 7
KALEB HADN’T BEEN serious when he told Judd he was thinking of taking Silver along to the meeting with Ena Mercant, but when his most senior aide walked into his office as he was buttoning up the jacket of his navy blue pin-striped suit, he considered it for an instant. Because the Mercants were . . . unusual.
In political terms and in terms of their intelligence network, their importance was far-reaching. Most people saw them as shadow players who wanted to manipulate puppets in positions of power, but Kaleb had always seen something different: a family that had stayed a family regardless of Silence. They were a tightly integrated unit with blood-deep loyalty to one another.
Kaleb had first hired Silver because he wanted an “in” with the Mercants, had kept her on even after he figured out that getting Mercant trust was nothing so simple. It had been an easy decision: Silver was the best aide he’d ever had, one who worked efficiently with and for him—as evidenced by the fact that she was here so early this morning. However, Silver also had the critical capacity to make independent decisions and take the necessary steps to action those decisions.
Kaleb didn’t trust her. He trusted very few people, but he had long ago decided that whether she brought the Mercant family with her, or not, Silver had considerable value on her own.
She proved that value with her next question.
“Sir,” she said. “Would you like me to accompany you to this meeting?”
“No,” he answered, at the same time setting up a psychic filter for any mentions of Lucas Hunter’s child. It would run quietly in the background so long as he didn’t turn it off. “I think your grandmother and I should speak alone.”
Silver’s expression didn’t change. She was always coolly composed, no matter the pressure, her ice-blonde hair pinned neatly back in a sophisticated roll and her body clad in skirt suits paired with spike heels. Today’s suit was gray, the shirt white. The heels were black. Kaleb only noticed things like that because he saw them as tools—Silver was far too intelligent to dress in impractical heels unless they gave her an advantage in some way.
“If I might make a suggestion,” she said now.
Kaleb nodded. He was well aware of his own strength and power, but arrogance was a flaw he tried not to cultivate. It led only to bitter outcomes. Look at Ming LeBon, scrambling to make a place for himself in the world after losing his grip on the most lethal squad of assassins ever known. Had Ming still had the loyalty of the Arrows, he’d have held more power than even Kaleb.
But where Kaleb had Sahara to keep him anchored, to keep him as honest as he could ever be, Ming had no one he could truly trust. It was difficult to build that trust when subordinates lived in constant fear of death or torture because Ming didn’t tolerate mistakes. Kaleb didn’t, either, but he didn’t punish mistakes that were genuine—or those that had been made in pursuit of a worthwhile goal. He’d been known to promote not only the winners, but also those who had failed but then dusted themselves off and tried again. To do otherwise was to stifle all innovation and drive.
Most of all, his people knew he never forgot those who’d been loyal.
As he hadn’t forgotten Silver when it came time to promote someone to coordinate the worldwide Emergency Response Network. Yes, Sahara had had to nudge him, but only because he didn’t want to lose part of Silver’s attention to EmNet, not because he didn’t have confidence in her competence for the task.
“Grandmother Mercant is predisposed to work with you,” Silver said as those thoughts passed rapidly through his head. “Don’t insult her intelligence at any point by lying or skirting the truth, and you’ll come out of the meeting with everything you want.”
Kaleb held Silver’s eyes, the color an unusual light shade that was a marker of one branch of the Mercant family tree. Her brother had the same eyes, as did her mother and grandmother. “Understood,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re offering me advice that might help me best your own grandmother.”
“It’s not about besting,” Silver replied. “It’s about ensuring you don’t make a mistake that will cost both parties in the long run.”
Kaleb understood the subtext: The Mercants had, for whatever reason, decided to welcome him into the fold. All he had to do was accept that welcome and work with them. “Thank you, Silver.”