“Ford is with me all the time—” I thumped myself in the forehead with the phone. “Bad example.” I bit my tongue. “What I mean is he and I are friends. We eat together, watch movies together, go out together. You and I could have done the same things without this hanging over our heads.”
The floor between his feet caught and held his attention. “It wasn’t enough.”
“How do you know?” I flung out my arm, and the phone went sailing. “You didn’t give it a chance.”
“I know.”
“This is insane.” I was afraid to laugh again, worried it might not stop. “You are insane.”
“You didn’t say no,” he pointed out, and the fragile thread of hope strung taut between us kept me from reminding him I had been in no shape to make life-altering decisions when I gave him the go-ahead.
“We know nothing about each other.”
“We’ll learn.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “There are things I can’t tell you. About me. My past.”
“Same,” I was quick to agree. “For this to work, we’ll need to start fresh with who we are now, how we are now.”
For this to work?
I didn’t want this to work. Hear me, brain? This was not going to work. Two people couldn’t take vows of silence about their pasts and expect anything good to come of a future together.
Future together?
Brain, you are falling down on the job. The only thing I saw when I looked ahead was my name on the plaque over the door at the OPA. That’s it. That’s all. The job.
Midas smoothed his palms down his jeans, and I wondered if they were damp again. Did I make him that nervous? Or was he secreting excessive amounts of the oils or pheromones he used to mark me in response to this courtship nonsense? “You’ll try?”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” He drew it out into a sibilant hiss. “I will.”
“Hmm.” I leaned in, scanning him top to bottom. “I don’t see any wires, but are you sure you’re Midas and not a marionette with his abs?”
“No one is forcing me to do this.” He looked like he wanted to smile. “I’m acting of my own free will.”
“That’s exactly what a Midas marionette would say.”
“How can I convince you?”
“Prove you mean it. Any of it.”
Midas appeared to consider this. “How do I do that?”
“I wish I could help, but I well and truly suck in the relationship department, romantic and otherwise.”
“You’ve never been in love?”
“Have you?” I shot back before my brain caught up with my mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”
This was proof you couldn’t get to know someone without the past getting involved. It was sneaky like that, how it shaped us, just as the present was molding us for some tomorrow version of ourselves.
“No.”
The answer was unexpected, in all ways, not that I had much room to talk. I had never been in love. I barely made it through first dates before mentally moving on. It’s not like I had a great example of how love should look or act or feel. I wasn’t sure, with the exception of sibling love, I had ever experienced it in any form. But romantic love? The kind that gave men power over you for the rest of your life? No. I had never let myself trust that far. I wasn’t sure it was in me.
“Me neither,” I admitted, because I owed him that much. “So this should be fun.”
Two people with intact hearts, poor people skills, a buttload of secrets, and a promise to try. For what, neither of us really knew. We were definitely off to a promising start.
A quick rap on the door brought me to my feet, and I retrieved my phone along the way. “I’ll get it.”
I wasn’t trying to escape the miasma of emotion swirling over the futon, honest. Fresh air was good for you. I read that on the internet, so it must be true.
“Hey.” Ares gave a quick wave. “Midas still here?”
“Sure.” I stepped aside. “Welcome to our love nest. Enter if you dare.” Midas scrubbed a hand down his face, and I was evil for snickering, but he was the one who wanted to get to know me. “Too soon?”
Face a blank mask suitable for framing, Ares gave no indication she found me amusing. Minus the whistle of air through her nose that wanted to be a laugh. “I found Ford.”
“How is he?” I forgot about tormenting Midas. “Where is he? Has the healer seen him yet?”
Avoiding my eyes, thanks to the courtship dealio, she dipped her chin. “You ought to see for yourself.”
Midas rose slowly, the weight of his decisions from the night before pressing down on him. “Let’s go.”
Ares didn’t give us a chance to change our minds. She darted out the door and down the hall.
“Shall we?” I showed Midas out then locked up behind us. “I am really not looking forward to this.”
The way they left things last night made my stomach flip and flop with guilt over being the cause.
“Don’t worry about Ford,” he said grimly. “I’ll handle him.”
“Hey.” I rested my hand on his chest to stop him. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
The thud of his heart under my palm grew stronger, and his breaths drew shorter. “No.”
Accepting him at his word, we walked to the elevator together. “He’s not going to hurt you, is he?”
Midas didn’t have an answer for that.
Seven
The smell hit me first. As soon as the elevator doors cracked open, I tasted acid in the back of my throat. “What is that ungoddessly stench?”
“That would be me.” Ford stood in the center of the lobby, away from the furnishings, and dripped ichor onto the otherwise glossy tile. “We’ve got a problem.”
His black hair was slicked against his skull as if he had gone swimming in a vat of hair gel, and his thick eyebrows stood on end from where he had wiped his face with his shirt. Black, brown, and green smeared his cheeks like camo face paint. His tee hung in tatters, damp with goo, and his pants had been sheared off above the knees, exposing very nice calves and light burns down to his sock-clad ankles.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” I inched closer, caught a fresh whiff, and stepped back. “What’s the problem?”
“That thing we killed last night?” He looked like the lone survivor of a post-apocalyptic movie. “There are more. A nest of them.”
Midas had yet to find his voice, so I kept the ball rolling. “You know that how?”
“I followed it home.” He laughed at the lovely shade of green I felt myself turning the longer I breathed him in, then he gagged on his own smell and spat when slime got in his mouth. “One of the legs must have been flung aside. After—” he gestured to us and let that be the end of it, “—I circled back and spotted it dragging itself along. I followed it down into the sewers and found a cache of eggs.”
“A cockroach can survive a week without its head,” I tossed out there. “It breathes through tiny holes in its body segments. Spiracles maybe? Eventually, thirst kills it. No mouth, no water.”
A victim, what we jokingly called customers on the nighttime guide circuit, told me that once after a kid found a dead roach and asked why they always died on their backs. Who says you don’t learn anything on ghost tours?
“I’m not going to ask how you know that.” Ford slid his gaze to Midas. “We need to burn them out.”
“Let me call Bishop.” I palmed my phone. “The team can handle recon while we investigate the nest.”
Do you remember when Linus forbade you to spend OPA money on flamethrowers we would never use?
>>Yes.
Brace yourself.
>>I’ve assumed the position.
Linus Andreas Lawson III was wrong.
>>Are you saying what I think you’re saying? I have the office black card right here.
Start swiping. We’re going hunting.
>>You’re the best thing to ever happen to this office.
I bet you say th
at to all the girls who greenlight your pyromaniacal dreams.
>>Let me log in real quick. I already have them in my cart.
A twinge of concern that I might have created a monster drew my shoulders up, reminding me I had to take it easy for another day or so while my wounds finished healing.
Meet me at the Faraday.
>>Yee-fucking-haw.
“For better or worse,” I told them, “Bishop is on the way with reinforcements.”
“We’ll keep the team small.” Midas checked with me. “You, Bishop, Ford, and me.” He dragged his gaze up to Ford. “That all right with you?”
Ford walked up to Midas, and Midas let him.
Ford landed a right hook that snapped Midas’s head to the side, and Midas let him.
Ford rubbed his knuckles, debating if he ought to go again, and Midas let him do that too.
“We could have been something,” Ford said at last, angling his head so the remark also addressed me.
Blood flecked Midas’s teeth. “I know.”
“You took that from me.”
“I know that too.”
“You wanted her, and now you’ve got her.” Ford flexed his hand. “You damn well better figure out your shit if you plan on keeping her.”
The threat was plain, and I was done being the bone they fought over without asking for my input.
“Shower before we go?” I jingled my keys in Ford’s face. “I can ask Ares to run clean clothes up to you.”
“You chose him over me.” Ford wiped sludge off his cheek. “It’s all that blond hair, isn’t it?”
“I had no idea what I was agreeing to at the time, but the hair probably didn’t hurt.”
“Darlin’, I’ll give credit where it’s due. Midas should have waited to ask you. He should have done it up nice and formal, made you feel special.” He sighed. “But you didn’t kick him out when you woke up to him, and you’re not clawing his face off to get away from him. You came down together, and you’re standing here together. You chose to face me together. That means something.”
“You got me.” I ran a single wave of Midas’s golden hair through my fingers. “As much as I wanted to rip this out and feed it to him, or maybe just hide gum in it, I couldn’t harm those silky locks.”
“I figured.” Ford huffed a dramatic sigh, but it turned all too real at the end. “I really did want to date you.”
“I really do want you to still be my friend.”
“As if there was ever any doubt.” He brought me in for a hug as punishment, coating me in effluvia. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy. I hang in there like a hair in a biscuit.”
“Let go.” I gagged. “Get off.” I tasted bile. “I’m going to hurl on you.”
“Like I could tell the difference.” He kissed my temple. “You might even improve things.”
Stumbling free, I bumped into Midas and considered hugging him to spread the love. “Where is your growly macho-man front when it could have been useful?”
“You agreed to a courtship. That’s serious business.” Ford chuckled at my rapid swallowing. “There’s no reason for him to kick up a fuss. You’re already halfway to being his.”
On one hand, I might have agreed to this sooner had I known it meant less snarly men in my life.
On the other hand, I was not halfway to being his. I wasn’t even a quarter. I was just not…not-his.
Frakking frak with a side order of frak.
How had life become so complicated? Bad decisions must breed like bunnies.
“Now that you’ve slimed me.” I took the high road and ignored his jab. “I’m going to run upstairs, shower, and change. That means you’ve got to find another empty shower to occupy.”
Midas captured me with the light press of his fingers on my arm. “Do you need any help?”
“I’ve made it this long without— Oh.” I finally caught his drift. “You mean because of my shoulder.”
“Yes.”
The way he made it sound so obvious paired with his aversion to touch made me curious if he was physically attracted to me or expected a platonic relationship. I sensed a vibe at times, one that made my stomach quiver, but adrenaline had convinced me to make poor decisions in the past.
I couldn’t botch this. Too much was at stake. For me and the OPA.
Whatever Midas’s expectations, I would have to live up to them for six weeks until we parted amicably.
Plan in place, I felt ready to face the night.
Right after I showered.
* * *
Fresh from the bathroom, I strolled into my living room then screamed bloody murder.
“Calm down.” Bishop patted the air. “It’s just me.”
A black beanie concealed his snow-white hair, but his skin was still pale as the moon, and his eyes were still a brilliant titanium. A master of disguise, he wasn’t. Under fluorescent lights, he glowed like a beacon. But most of that I blamed on his excitement over the flamethrowers and didn’t tease him.
“How did you get in here?” I dumped my wet towel in the hamper. “Dumb question. You’ve got a key.”
Thanks to Ambrose, I didn’t get much privacy. Bishop had a key to my place, Linus had a key to my place, Midas had a key to my place, so forth and so on. Until I proved I wasn’t a danger to myself or to my city, I had to accept the lock on my door was more decorative than anything.
“I wanted to chat with you before we joined the others.” He made himself at home on the futon. “I haven’t seen you since before…” He fumbled over what to call me waking in an alley. “I just wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing. All that fun stuff. Without the audience.”
Meaning he used one of my favorite tricks and sneaked in through my window to avoid the lobby.
“I didn’t wander off last night, but I was pretty banged up. That, and Midas slept over.” I glared at his widening smile. “To babysit me. So don’t get any ideas.” Bishop sat back, but he didn’t dim the twinkle in his eyes. “His presence alone would be a deterrent.” I joined him and drew my legs under me. “Linus says the episode is nothing to worry about, that Ambrose is safe in the cage where we locked him.”
The cage being me.
“I still can’t believe you named that thing.” Bishop watched me pace. “You don’t look convinced, about Ambrose. What’s bugging you?”
“Ambrose is evolving, and I don’t like it.”
The shadow himself put in an appearance. No doubt he was tired of hearing his name spoken in vain.
“I trust Linus, but he made no bones about you being a special case when he first told me about you.” He noticed the shadow mocking me, casting his form against the wall to better put on a show. “There comes a point when you have to trust your gut more.”
As much as I wished for a confidante, I couldn’t trust Bishop with my secrets. Not the worst of them. He made it plain he considered us friends, and I was coming around to the idea he did care about me, but he reported to Linus. He was loyal to the office first and everyone else second. Any hint I might be going off the rails and he would dial up Linus and bring my house of cards fluttering down around me.
At times like these, I was thankful for that. Really, I was. I needed someone to keep tabs on me.
So, yeah. I did like Bishop. I liked thinking of him as my friend. But a parolee and the officer assigned to them could never be real friends, and that was our dynamic.
“I’m steady.” I reassessed myself after last night. “Other than the missing-time thing, I feel normal.”
Make that my new normal, a mishmash of Ambrose and me, symbiotic and strange.
“We’ll go from there then.” He retrieved a small tablet from a pocket in his cargo pants. “Anyway, I come bearing gifts.” He brought up a security feed recording with a few taps of his fingers. “Bet you thought I forgot.” He spun it on his palm. “Do you want to watch this before we go down?”
Last night had all but wiped the previous day’s misadventure
from my mind, including the video Bishop had sewn together to track my whereabouts during my episode.
“How bad is it?” I wrinkled my nose but joined him. I might not want to see, but I had to know. “Bad, really bad, or downright terrible?”
“I’d rate it bad.” His lips twitched. “Really, the worst part was your poor fashion choices.”
Relief swirled through me, and I slumped against the futon. “In that case, let ’er rip.”
He set the feed in motion, and I watched myself emerge from my apartment in a sports bra, bikini-cut panties with a safety pin holding the sides together, and sneakers.
“Oh goddess.” I covered my face with my hands, peeking through my fingers. “It gets worse?”
“Keep watching.”
The video skipped to a different hallway, this one plusher, the fixtures nicer.
I walked right up to a door and knocked for a solid minute. No one answered. I tried again. Nothing. The fact no one was home must have finally penetrated my addled brain, and I turned to leave.
The laundry cart had been parked between that door and the next, and I bumped into it. I made no attempt to catch myself as I fell forward, and I ended up headfirst in the clothes with my legs sticking up like a dead bug.
“Please tell me you haven’t shown this to anyone else.”
“This is the extended edition. The POA has an abbreviated cut.”
Linus had seen me at my worst and stuck by me. I had to believe he would take this in stride too.
On screen, I climbed out, dragging a man’s dress shirt with me.
“This explains how I came by Midas’s shirt.” I gave my surroundings a closer look. “This must be footage from the upper floors.”
“The one below the penthouse reserved for the POA.”
“How did I know to go up for clothes?” I watched myself button his shirt up to my throat. “What are the odds the laundry cart would even be out? I have no idea of the twins’ schedules. It was pure dumb luck.”
“I hate to make the obvious connection, but Midas has an apartment up there, and that’s his shirt you put on.”
“He never uses it.” I frowned at him, not liking this at all. “He lives at the den.”
Pack of Lies Page 8
