by Tate James
After a long, tense moment, he kissed me ever so gently on the lips, then stepped away.
"I'll go see what Lucas broke," he said in a rough, pained voice. Then he left the room without another glance, and I slid down the wall until my butt hit the carpet.
I'd fucked up. Again. This time I might have even pushed things too damn far to recover from, and I had no one to blame but myself. So I only allowed myself a hot second to wallow in self-pity before pulling my shield back around myself.
When I pushed back to my feet and went in search of clothes, I wore my Hades identity like a forcefield. Nothing and no one could penetrate it. Not unless I let them. So the solution seemed simple: just don't.
I dressed quickly, making a snap decision to skip showering right now. The small, vulnerable part of my mind that was still sobbing over hurting Zed was desperate to keep the phantom touch of his hands on my skin a little while longer.
Before heading downstairs, I grabbed my phone and checked the messages there. Most were work related, but the one that I'd been waiting for all day had finally arrived.
GC: Successful first day.
That was it. Three words from a burner phone that shifted a thousand tons of worry and stress off my shoulders.
I replied truthfully, not allowing myself a moment to second-guess my message until after I’d sent it.
Hades: I miss you, Saint.
The second it delivered, a wash of panic swept through me, and I tried to unsend. But he'd already seen it. Crap.
The bubble popped up to show him typing. Then disappeared. No message came through, the bubble didn't reappear, and I groaned out loud. Why'd I have to go all needy like that? Fucking hell, he'd barely been gone a day, and I was acting like a clingy, codependent weakling.
Irritated at myself, I tossed my phone back onto the bed and headed downstairs. I was burning with curiosity to know what the actual DNA results were, and more than that, I was anxious to see Zed and assess how badly I'd fucked up.
I found Zed and Lucas in the kitchen, where Lucas sat cross-legged on the kitchen counter while Zed swept up broken glass from the floor.
"What happened?" I asked in a carefully neutral voice, tensing my entire body to keep from flinching when Zed raised his eyes to mine. His expression was tightly guarded, giving away nothing, and that almost hurt worse than if he'd shown me anger or disappointment.
Lucas looked up at me from the papers in his hand, but there was no panic or concern on his face. "Oh, nothing. I was distracted reading this and dropped the wine glasses I’d pulled out for us."
I frowned, looking at the pile of glass Zed was tipping into the trash. That answer seemed almost too normal. Anticlimactic. Then again, Lucas didn't strike me as the kind of guy who broke shit when he couldn't deal with his big emotions, so it actually made a lot of sense. He was way too well adjusted for that macho shit, and he’d already gotten it out of his system by punching Zed.
Speaking of which, Zed's left eye was coming up red and puffy, and the stubborn fool hadn't iced it at all.
Marching over to the freezer, I pulled it open and retrieved an icepack. "So, what are the real results?" I asked Lucas. Zed had just put the dustpan and brush away, so I handed him the icepack and gave a stern nod toward his bruised face. "Ice it. Idiot."
Zed's lips twitched with a tiny smile. "Yes, sir."
I grabbed the cordless vacuum from the butler’s pantry and gave the kitchen floor a quick once over because I sure as fuck didn't want any shards of glass in my bare feet.
"So, good news," Lucas announced when I was done. "Or, I dunno. Good, I guess? None of the samples, including Chase's, were a familial match to mine."
My brows rose, and I nudged Zed out of the way so I could retrieve some fresh wine glasses. "That's a relief," I commented, then gave Zed a curious look.
He just shrugged back at me. "I never said it was you. You assumed, and you know what they say about assuming." He'd only moved a couple of inches out of my way, so his arm was close enough to brush mine as I poured us all a glass of chilled riesling.
"I hate you," I muttered, not even remotely meaning it. He knew it, too, smirking as he took the glass I offered, his fingers deliberately brushing mine.
Instantly I released a bit of the breath I was holding. That small touch was the reassurance I needed that he wasn't pissed off at me or disgusted. He was just giving me space and time.
"Lies," he whispered, bringing the glass to his lips and shooting me a wink.
"Whatever," Lucas growled, glaring daggers at Zed. "Still not funny. But Zed also wasn't lying. The lab tech found a familial match in one of their other databases but had a hard time uncovering who the match was for."
I handed Lucas his glass of wine, then leaned my ass against the counter beside Zed to sip my own. "Why would they not know who the match was for?"
Lucas grimaced. "Because it was assigned a number, not a name."
My brows shot up. "They matched it to a military database." I was genuinely surprised at their initiative. "When did our lab techs get access to those servers?" This question was directed at Zed, who glanced at me from the side of his eye as he sipped his wine.
"Dallas," he said by way of explanation. "He's been getting increasingly more badass with his hacker skills. He stopped by the labs a couple of weeks ago to format their computers and loaded a little backdoor into some classified servers for situations just like this."
"Useful guy," I murmured, mentally patting myself on the back for extracting him out of the Wraiths a year and a half earlier.
Zed grimaced as he flipped his ice pack over, pressing the colder side to his eye. "I spoke to him on my way back here. He's going to work on decoding the system to get a name for the number. Said it shouldn't take more than a day or two."
"That answers the question of whether my mom was lying, I guess," Lucas said with a hard sigh. "Why would she do that? If she had other kids... where were they my whole life? And why lie about it?"
Zed and I exchanged a knowing look. "The Guild," I replied. "Didn't she say something about your uncle hurting her babies?"
Lucas gave a jerking nod, his brow furrowed. "Yeah, when she thought I was him."
"I wonder if the Guild took her other baby—or babies—away from her. It would explain why you never knew... and why she was determined to get you away from Shadow Grove at such a young age." I leaned an elbow on the counter behind me, and Zed seemed to shift closer. A quick glance at his face betrayed nothing, though, and I wondered if I was imagining things, hypersensitive to his every movement and reading way too much into them.
Lucas ran a hand through his floppy hair and gave a small groan. "That's what I was thinking too. With my uncle giving me that shooter software and shit... it sure seems like they were in the business of training recruits young, right?"
"Speaking of," Zed rumbled, "any word from Grumpy Cat?"
I jerked a nod. "He checked in. Said it was a successful first day."
Lucas grinned wide. "Super informative. Typical fucking Cass."
I smiled back because he was right. Cass had his orders and was just getting the job done. I doubted we would hear much in the way of progress reports until he was done, and that was fine. I trusted him.
I gulped down the rest of my wine, then rinsed my glass in the sink. "I'm going to bed." I didn't elaborate on that any further with excuses, just leaned in to kiss Lucas softly on the lips. Then, before I could lose my damn nerve, I dropped a quick kiss on Zed's lips too.
That move shocked him immobile, and I took the opportunity to get the hell out of the room. Our damage could sleep and be dealt with in the light of day. Maybe.
16
A gloved hand covering my mouth woke me up, and I bucked my body violently, thrashing to free myself from my assailant.
"Red, it's me," a familiar throaty voice muttered in my ear right as my fingers closed around a dagger tucked into the side of the bed, and my whole body relaxed.
&nbs
p; "Saint," I breathed as he pulled his hand away from my lips. My eyes blinked a couple of times, finding his in the darkness. "What the fuck were you thinking? I could have killed you!"
"Again?" he teased. "Come on, get dressed. I don't have long."
Wrapping his arm around my waist, he all but lifted me out of bed and placed me on my feet. His gloved hands raised the hem of the oversized T-shirt I'd worn to bed, and I caught a flash of teeth as he grinned.
"Are you sleeping in my shirt, Red?" He sounded way too damn pleased about that fact, and I groaned, tossing it aside, and snatched my bra from the pile of clothes he'd prepared on my bedside table.
"It's comfy," I snapped back. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in—"
He cut me off with a harsh kiss, his gloved hands cupping my breasts through the lace bra as I hooked it on. "You needed me," he rumbled when he released my lips once more.
I cringed, remembering my needy message that he hadn't replied to. "Moment of weakness," I muttered in reply, hurrying to finish dressing. He'd chosen dark jeans and a long sleeve black top for me, along with my leather jacket and boots. "I shouldn't have gone all girly like that on you."
He huffed a sound of disagreement. "Bullshit, Red. For one thing, I love when you go girly on me. For another, you wouldn't have done it unless you were in a vulnerable place. So, I'm here. But we don't have long, so hurry up."
Curiosity radiated through me, and I yanked my boots on quickly. The display on my phone told me I'd only been asleep for a few hours, but I was more than awake and excited to see what Cass had up his sneaky sleeve.
He wrapped his hand around mine to pull me out of the bedroom and laid a finger across his lips to tell me to be silent. We hurried downstairs, and I checked out his ass in the black leather pants he wore—sexy as hell, motorcycle pants but unlike anything I'd seen on Cassiel Saint before.
It wasn't until we reached the garage that it clicked why they seemed familiar. "Cass," I whispered, squeezing his gloved hand. "Did you borrow Zed's motorcycle leathers?"
He just tossed a sly smile over his shoulder at me and continued through the dark garage to where my cherry-red Ducati was parked. "Damn right I did," he replied, grabbing my red helmet and passing it to me. "They're a bit snug around the crotch, though. Zed must have a pencil dick to fit these comfortably." He grabbed his junk in demonstration, and I bit my lip to hide my grin. It sure looked like he filled them out perfectly.
Cass headed over to one of Zed's street bikes, an all-black Kawasaki Ninja, and pulled one of Zed's black helmets on before straddling the bike. Decked out in Zed's leathers and helmet and riding his bike... no one would suspect this was Cassiel Saint and not Zayden De Rosa.
"I see you, Saint," I said with a laugh, pulling my own helmet on and swinging my leg over the sexy red Ducati that Cass had given me. "Smart man," I murmured inside my helmet.
He gave me a silent nod, then started his engine and led the way out of the garage. We took it easy down the driveway and out the front gate, then by some unspoken agreement, we hit the gas.
It didn't take long to work out what Cass's objective was. Within minutes my heart was racing with exhilaration and my smile was achingly wide under my helmet. He’d seen my message for exactly what it was: a cry for help. So he was helping by reminding me how strong I was. How in control. A high-speed bike race through the early hours of the morning was the perfect way to do that, too.
Not to mention the fact that he showed up just to do this for me reminded me that he would quite literally drop everything for me. All I needed to do was ask, and he would be there. Because he loved me—something I’d never thought would apply to Cass and me, yet here we were.
We both slowed to a stop at a red light on the outskirts of Shadow Grove’s downtown, and I looked over at him. Fucking hell, if I didn't know any better, I'd have been totally fooled into thinking it was Zed beside me. Cass was an inch or two taller and slightly broader across the chest, but when he was head to toe in leather to hide all identifying features, it was a solid disguise.
He revved his engine, tilting his head up at me in challenge. I snorted a laugh and settled myself, ready to take off the second the light changed. Cass wanted a race? He'd damn well get one.
I watched the lights for the road perpendicular to ours, waiting for their light to change, which gave me a split-second head start when ours turned green.
My Ducati took off like a shot out of a gun, roaring down the street fast enough to turn the streetlights into colorful streaks in my vision. Cass was right on my tail, though, keeping the pressure turned up and making me laugh out loud as we slowed down for the next red light we hit.
We waited in comfortable silence, the empty streets of Shadow Grove feeling a whole lot like our personal playground at this eerie time of night. Then the light changed, and this time Cass got the jump on me, pulling ahead from the get-go. He didn't hold the lead for long, though. My Ducati was just a better bike than Zed's Ninja, and I closed the gap before we even sailed through the next green light.
Laughing, I overtook him and thanked the gods of traffic lights that the next several sets were all green. It allowed me the space to leave Cass well behind, extending my win in the unspoken race we were both engaging in.
The road ahead ended in a parking lot, so I took the next left, counting on Cass being close enough behind that he'd see me turn. I’d barely rounded the corner, though, when I had to screech to a halt that almost saw me flying over the handlebars. As it was, my back wheel lifted off the ground, and only my riding experience and light weight saved me from becoming mincemeat on the concrete.
"What the fuck?" I cursed, glaring in outrage at the two SUVs that had just pulled up from the other direction and stopped, blocking the road entirely.
I barely got a second to process the oddity of the situation before Cass's bike skidded around mine in a perfect arc as he pulled a gun from inside his jacket and fired a round of bullets at the SUVs.
On reflex, I reached for my own gun before realizing I hadn't put it on. I’d been in such a hurry to get out of the house with Cass I hadn't grabbed it from the nightstand where Cass had laid it out with my clothes. Shit.
"Go!" Cass boomed at me, and I didn't hesitate. I jammed my foot down on the ignition and jerked my handlebars to turn in a tight circle. More shots rang out behind me as I fled, but I didn't stop. I was severely underdressed for that sort of party and had no desire to sign my own death certificate so soon. So I did the only sensible thing possible and tore through the night.
Only when I felt sure the SUVs weren't following did I risk a glance over my shoulder and let out a long sigh of relief when I spotted Cass only a half block behind me. His gun was still out as he drove one-handed, but from what I could see, he was still in one piece. Shit, the last thing he needed was more bullet holes less than two weeks after I'd shot him myself.
Dammit, that stubborn fool wasn't wearing his sling anymore. I should have known he'd ditch it the second he was out of my sight. But I could also understand why. Never let enemies see you're hurt.
I kept glancing back at him, though, worried that he'd done some damage. So I almost didn't notice when someone casually strolled out into the street ahead. Luckily, my reflexes were sharper than Japanese steel after the SUV attack, and I slowed to a stop just a couple of feet away from the man.
His face remained neutral, totally unconcerned that I could have run him over. He just stood there with his feet shoulder-width apart, looking casual as all hell.
I tugged off my helmet and glared daggers. "I suppose that ambush was your doing?"
The model-handsome man met my gaze with his ice-blue eyes, tilting his head to the side like my question was too stupid to warrant a response.
"The Guild appreciates you having returned their property, Hades," he said in a low, calm voice. Cass had pulled up a few yards behind me, hanging back and keeping his disguise in place but there as backup if I needed him.
I grunted, assuming he meant the gun stash. "Nice of the Guild to let us know they'd be stopping by." Sarcasm edged my voice, and I mentally slapped myself for losing my cool. "What's this charade for, Leon?"
The Guild mercenary ran his eyes over me. It wasn't a sexual gaze; it was a calculating one. He was one of the mercs who'd come to Shadow Grove to assist Archer when his girl was being stalked, but I'd crossed paths with him before that. He mostly played the role of tech-geek, but I knew better. We monsters recognized one another.
"No charade, Hades. Just delivering a message from the Circle." His sharp, intelligent gaze shifted past me to Cass, his eyes narrowing slightly as he visually inspected my backup.
I swallowed, steeling my spine. "The fuck does the Circle want in Shadow Grove?"
The Circle... the governing body of the Guild, made up of nine scary-ass motherfuckers. The Guild said they didn't recruit psychopaths or serial killers, but that was only because they were owned by the worst kind of nightmares in the world. It took a real sick fuck to run an organization like the mercenary guild, after all.
"Nothing," Leon replied, clasping his tattooed hands in front of him. For all appearances, he looked totally unarmed. I knew better. "That's what I came to tell you. The Circle has investigated Jack Wildeboer's death and declared it from natural causes. We have no further interest in Shadow Grove... unless you keep trying to hack our servers. Then? Well, then we have a problem, Hades."
Shit. They knew we'd been digging. Did they know why?
"Tell Lucas to stop fucking looking," Leon continued, his jaw ticking with anger. "Take this as a professional courtesy warning. Stop drawing attention, or my next visit will be considerably less polite."
I jerked a nod, quietly horrified that Leon even knew Lucas's name. The casual way he used it, too... it sent a chill of understanding through me. He'd been watching us longer than I'd known.
Leon stared at me for an extended, tense moment like he was weighing whether I was taking his warning seriously or not. Then he inclined his head in a small nod himself and shifted his eyes back over my shoulder.
