🔍 Silver Tongue (Slow Updates) 🔎

Silver is Worth More Than Gold...Or That's What They Tell Me

To say this had been the longest week of my life would have been an understatement, but the hardest part was over. I'd finally found him. Ivan, Silver Tongue, whatever name you wanted to call my brother, he was here in the flesh. On one hand, I was glad to see him safe and in my arms. On the other, if he was fine, why the hell was I here?

"I'm sorry they dragged you into this, Em," Ivan said. He kissed me on the forehead as he pulled away. "And I'm sorrier I didn't see it coming. Don't worry, I'll take care of them soon enough."

Them? "You mean Virtue?" I asked. "What's going on?"

"Like I said, I'll handle it," Ivan said. He pulled an onyx pendant from inside his shirt and kissed it. I'd never seen it before, but I also hadn't seen my brother in person in nearly ten years. I could have been part of his current guise for all I knew. "I'm just glad you're safe." He turned towards my well-dressed delivery boy. "Max, give me the jamming box with the receiver and microphone. I've got something perfect in mind."

"There was only the earpiece," Max said, offering a box which looked like a black case for glasses. "I had the prison guards search her well. No microphone."

Ivan's face went cold and he stalked his way towards Max, who shrank under his glare. Yeah, Max's reaction in the limo wasn't an act – he was truly frightened of Ivan.

"Diligence is no fool," Ivan spat. "There is a microphone somewhere on her person."

"It's on my tooth," I offered. I'd hidden it from Max, true, but there was no need to hide it from my brother.

"You idiot!" Ivan snapped, looming over Max. He snatched the box from his hands.

Max shrank under his roar. All façade of the silver spooned aristocrat disappeared, leaving a frightened little boy in his wake.

"Go and get the frequency scrambler from Gerardo," Ivan said, the r's in the name rolling off his tongue. Yes, Ivan was my opposite in that. He'd embraced the language and culture as a kid and spoke it like a native, much to our dad's chagrin. He'd learned French and German too, when we were kids. Who knew how many languages he knew at this point? More than me, that's for sure.

Max scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over his feet.

Ivan put his hands on his hips. "Sorry, Em, but we're going to have to go now." He leaned in towards my mouth, and dropped his tone. "I'm going to enjoy making you pay for this Diligence," he said. "I will break..." He trailed off as I shuddered.

I knew he wasn't talking to me, but I still shuddered.

He pulled back, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, Em. Shit. I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right? It's just...It's going to be alright," he said.

I nodded and forced a smile. I knew he was dealing with a lot and I didn't want to be the reason his confidence was shot.

He waved the black box near my jaw, maintaining eye contact with me. "Did that hurt?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Should it have?"

He rubbed his forehead again. "I don't know. This is out of my depth." He handed it to me. "Hold it next to your mouth. I don't know how much it will help, but Max should be back with the jammer soon. That I know will jam the signal like we need, but I'm afraid that it'll cause you quite a bit of pain. It's probably why Diligence did it."

"What is going on with you and Virtue? Are they the enemy?" I gasped. "Have I been working with the enemy?"

He pulled a radio from his belt and walked a few feet away, barking orders in Spanish.

I wished he would just answer my question, but I understood at a basic level that if Virtue were the enemy and they were using me to track Ivan's location, he had more things to do than hold my hand. Also, they'd probably hear everything he would say to me. Until he was sure this microphone was neutralized, he probably had to choose his words carefully.

He rummaged through the drawers of the coffee table, pulling out a pen and a stack of post-it notes. He scratched on the pad for a couple of minutes and shoved it towards me.

Doctor here, five minutes, remove bug, it read.

It took the pad and responded. Five minutes? What, do you have a live-in doctor?

He nodded, and I had to remember written words didn't convey sarcasm as well as I liked.

Given that we hadn't spoken in a few minutes, I figured I'd talk about something. Anything really. That much silence was unnatural. "Did you hear what's going on in North Korea?" I asked.

He grinned. "Some asshole with a big bomb and a small dick?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, basically." I looked at the box next to my mouth. It was so odd, trying to have a conversation when I had to examine every word I said. I mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

Ivan frowned. "You're hairy? TMI, sis. Don't need a rundown of your shave game."

"Asshole."

Gun shots rang out. I couldn't tell how far away they were, but Ivan pulled me down behind the couch and pulled a handgun from behind his back. I wanted to ask why he we needed a doctor if we had a jammer. Unless there wasn't a jammer and that was a ploy to scare Virtue. Keeping track of everything was starting to get a bit overwhelming.

A chubby guy in a Metallica t-shirt and tattered jeans ran into the room, ducking low and carrying a dark bag.

That guy's the doctor?

"Shit," Ivan snapped. "Where is Max?" He motioned for me to lie down.

Well, that settled it.

"What do we do?" I asked, lying on my back. I wasn't sure what else to say. Besides, I did mean it. I had no clue what was next.

Ivan grabbed my hand with his left and mouthed, "I'm sorry" back to me.

Why are you sorry? Oh shit, this is going to hurt, isn't it?

"Five more minutes and we bail," Ivan said. He grabbed my hand as the chubby man probed around the inside of my mouth with some tools and a flashlight. Max wasn't back yet, so I guessed there was no jammer and...

I squeezed Ivan's hand and kicked, trying my best not to cry out in pain. A whimper slipped out, but I steeled myself as best I could. Every pull and push in my mouth hurt like hell, sending tears sliding down my face. I needed to be strong for Ivan. I'd put him in this situation, the least I could do was not compromise him further with cries of pain.

When Virtue had put in the mic, they'd put me under and there was only a mild throb when I came to. Now I understood why. It felt like this man was going to pull out my tooth with the damned machine.

I tasted blood on my tongue, but the pain receded. When I finally blinked through the tears, I saw him drop something in the black case. Ivan snapped it shut and the doctor slid it into his medical bag.

Ivan shrugged. "I told you it would probably hurt," he said. "Sorry, Em."

"You son of a whore!" I screamed. The only bad part is with the gauze in my mouth, I didn't think he understood the words. I'm sure he understood my meaning, though.

"I'm sorry, miss," the dark-skinned doctor yelled over the gunshots as he packed his tools away and slung the bag over his shoulder. "No time for anesthesia."

"Bastard," I added, though it was like talking with a mouth full of peanut butter. Again, I was sure he didn't understand the word, but he got the message.

"The cut's no worse than a bad floss," he said. "It should heal on its own in a couple of days. You'll be probably need braces, though."

I swear to God, Ivan, I thought, holding my mouth. If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kill you.