“Conscious you knows that, but does subconscious you know that?”
“How am I supposed to know what my subconscious does or doesn’t know?”
And was it subconscious or unconscious at this point?
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Bishop tapped the screen. “Oh, this is my favorite part.”
Hair sticking out like dandelion fluff from the static, I reached back for a pair of black leggings and began wrestling them on over my shoes. I lost balance, banged into the wall, staggered, and hit the floor on my back, giving flipped turtles everywhere a run for their money.
Swinging my head toward Ambrose, I grumbled, “Still crying innocent?”
The shadow took on a solemn cast, his denial of any and all responsibility not coming as a huge shock.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “This is humiliating.”
The shadow bounced his shoulders while he laughed at me.
“You wrestle with your stolen pants for another five minutes,” Bishop cut in. “The last thirty seconds is the best part, but I’ll spare you since we’re in a time crunch.”
Finally, video-me got the stretchy fabric clear of my shoes then yanked it up my legs and over my hips.
From there, the image skipped to an exterior camera. “How did I get out of the Faraday?”
“The window is my guess.”
“You don’t have surveillance set up in the alley?”
“Three weeks ago, a gwyllgi got lucky spotting one. It took him an hour to sniff out the rest. Since then, they keep searching, taking them down as fast I put them up and returning them to me with a long-winded speech about residents and privacy. Not a huge problem, except their own security cameras cut off before you left and came on again at dusk.”
I didn’t know their locations, but Linus had told me they were there. Warned me more like it.
The timing of this blackout concerned me. “Are there any more blips?”
“Not a one.” He shook his head. “The rest is crystal clear.”
That earlier concern redoubled, making the itch in my shoulder worse. “Let’s see where I go.”
We settled in to finish the recording, and it was as uneventful as I could wish.
I walked and walked and walked, with no obvious destination in mind.
I fell twice, which accounted for the minor injuries.
Close to dusk, I ran out of steam and entered the alley where I had woken and sat down.
An old man in a pair of dirty overalls found me, tried and failed to communicate with me, then dug the box out of the dumpster to conceal me. He didn’t throw off supernatural vibes. He gave every indication of being worried about a girl in my condition exposed so close to dark. That said, he left in a hurry, unwilling to draw police attention if there was something more wrong with me than an OD that left me staring vacantly at the opposite building.
I sat there, under the box, until nightfall.
No one else entered the alley. No one else saw me. No one hurt me or got hurt.
The vise clamped around my lungs eased for the first time since I had woken in the dark.
“Okay,” I said into the quiet. “Okay.”
“What did I tell you?” Bishop patted me on the knee. “Terrible fashion choices.”
Adding more weight to the argument he was a true friend, he didn’t fuss when I dropped my head onto his shoulder and purged all my fears of backsliding onto his shirt. I was hiccupping when I hit empty, and he didn’t say a word about it. Any of it.
The perfect way he understood what I needed made me wonder who he leaned on when hunger got the better of him, and it made me hope I could be that person one day. Someone who might not catch a friend’s every slip but who never let them fall and always helped them back to their feet.
This went beyond orders. This implied he cared about more than my success. This meant…something. Right?
“As I was saying,” he began again, after I dried my face, “I got a rush order special delivered to the Faraday. Our flamethrowers are waiting on us downstairs. I stamped them Property of the OPA to make sure they come home with the right people after.”
“And by right people, you mean you.”
“Naturally.” He stood and offered me a hand up, which I took. “Get a move on.”
“You’re just worried they’ll pass out the flamethrowers, and you’ll get left out.”
“Ha ha— No.” He produced a flat piece of metal I suspected was a key. “No one touches those babies without their daddy present.”
“You had to go and make it weird.”
Since Ford had resembled a loogie hawked by a giant into a tissue after his solo adventure, I figured it was wasted energy to wash the redness from my face. Instead I wiped off on the hem of my shirt and called the job done.
We met up with the others in the lobby, and Bishop pretended not to notice Ford had a crowbar resting on his shoulder, or that he was standing very close to his babies.
“You see the stamp?” Bishop pointed. “OPA property.”
“You’ve got me all wrong,” Ford said, his voice pure honey. “This is my weapon of choice.”
Bishop wasn’t buying what Ford was selling. “Teeth and claws are the gwyllgi weapon of choice.”
“Darlin’…” The bar slid down to his side when he spotted me. “You okay?”
A warm hand touched my shoulder, and I didn’t think before covering it with mine. “Yeah.”
For a split second, I thought it was Bishop, but the quiver in my knees had known from the start.
Midas didn’t echo Ford, he just stood there, hand underneath mine, until we drew too many stares to ignore. If I expected him to withdraw, I was doomed for disappointment. I had to step out of his reach to sever that connection, and I hated how much part of me missed it the second it was gone.
“We’ll break into teams.” I smoothed the rough edges of my voice. “Bishop and me, Midas and Ford.”
“In the spirit of interdepartmental cooperation,” Midas said, “I propose we pair Ford and Bishop.”
Uncertain if this was a misguided attempt to protect me or what, I asked, “You want to be my partner?”
Midas’s eyes were clearer than I had ever seen them. “I thought I’d already made that obvious.”
“Okay.” I told myself adrenaline made me shiver. “Partners it is then.”
Eight
Midas held the passenger side door open for Hadley, and she rewarded his rusty manners with a happy little smile that scrambled his brain for ideas on how to earn another and another and another.
The flamethrowers rested in the bed of the truck, and so did Bishop, who had wrapped them in a blanket and started humming a lullaby as he settled in with them for the ride.
Hadley strapped in, already laughing at a joke Ford whispered in her ear, and Midas climbed up beside her, tasting the ashes of his earlier happiness.
“You wanted her, and now you’ve got her.”
The words kept circling his head, a threat, a promise.
“You damn well better figure out your shit if you plan on keeping her.”
Ford wasn’t giving up on Hadley. He had made his intentions clear.
That gave Midas six weeks to figure out what it meant when he couldn’t sleep at night for thinking of her. How the only thing that slowed his racing thoughts was the scrap of fabric he stole from her room while he was setting it to rights. It made him feel like a kid who couldn’t sleep without his blankie, the embarrassment compounded by the fact he still lived at home. With his mom. In his childhood room.
“Hey.” Hadley poked him in the thigh. “You can’t daydream while we’re strategizing, Goldie.”
Behind the wheel, Ford snickered at the nickname that had cost more than one gwyllgi their teeth.
Tearing his focus away from where her hip touched his, he dialed into their conversation. “What did I miss?”
“I’m going down first,” Ford said. “I know
where the nest is, so I’ll lead the way. Bishop can watch my back, if we can get him to stop cooing at our weapons. You and Hadley will bring up the rear, make sure we don’t get trapped if Mommy and Daddy come home to catch us raiding the nursery.”
“I don’t like the idea of testing new toys in a confined space.” Hadley gnawed on her bottom lip. “Bishop is convinced fire is the way to go, and he’s generally right about these things.”
Ford spared her a quick glance, like he couldn’t help himself. “What is he anyway?”
“You find out, you let me know.” A smile tickled the corner of her mouth nearest him. “We all have our secrets, right?”
Ford had plenty, most of them Midas’s fault. One word from him would torpedo his chances with Hadley. She would resent the hell out of him being ordered to befriend her. The fact Ford had never met a stranger, that he had already been infatuated with Hadley, meant the order had been a formality. Ford would have cozied up to her either way. The difference was, in making it a pack matter, Midas had ensured he would report back on where they went, what they did, and what they discussed.
Midas had used Ford to spy on her. He had used Ford to do all the things he wanted to do but couldn’t. Just as Ford was making headway, about to take it to the next level, Midas took a sledgehammer and shattered all those possibilities because he couldn’t stomach the idea she might reciprocate.
Proposing courtship had given him time to breathe, a chance to figure things out without the urgency of racing the clock to beat Ford to her. Or so he’d thought. Ford still circled at a distance, and he had no one to blame for encouraging him but himself.
“Here we are,” Ford announced. “We’ll go on foot from here.”
“This is what?” Hadley leaned across Midas’s lap to read the street sign out his window, and one of her curls tickled his nose. “Three miles from where we fought it?”
“About that.”
“You sure you want to park here?” She eyed the busted streetlamp. “Your truck is cherry.”
“The streets can look alike in the dark,” Ford reasoned. “This will give us a beacon to follow if we have to run.”
“Works for me.” She tucked the springy lock of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing his cheek in the process, and she offered up a smile. “I wonder where they came from?”
“Mutant Roach Men from Mars Attack Atlanta.”
Surprise brightened her eyes, and she laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. “You made a joke.”
“One of us has to be the funny one,” he said, deadpan, and sent her into peals of laughter.
She scooted out the door Ford had left open, and Midas placed his arm along the bench, the leather still warm, and pictured how it might have felt if he’d been brave enough to try while Hadley sat next to him.
“Are you coming?” She popped her head back in the truck, noticed his arm, and cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”
The way he always seemed to hesitate, and she never did, made him wonder if she was leading him down a path he never would have dared alone. “Do you know how to operate a flamethrower?”
“Trust me, Bishop knows.” She rolled her eyes. “He’ll be thrilled to give us a crash course.”
Within the hour, Bishop had them kitted out with fuel tanks they wore like backpacks, and each of them had gotten off a spray of flame without setting themselves, or each other, on fire.
“What is this stuff anyway?” Hadley wrinkled her nose. “It smells familiar.”
“Propane and gasoline,” Midas answered absently, his nose parsing the scents easily. “These aren’t military grade.”
Bishop clutched his wand to his chest. “Do you know how hard it is to buy four flamethrowers no questions asked?”
“Look on the bright side.” Hadley leaned in closer to Bishop. “If this doesn’t work, you can tell Linus we need more firepower. I bet he’s got a napalm sigil in his repertoire.”
“Oh, Lee.” His smile turned sharp with excitement. “You’re the only one who gets me.”
“Aren’t you lucky I came to Atlanta to enable your bad decision-making?”
“Yeah.” Bishop sobered, tipping up her chin with his finger. “I am.”
Midas expected his inner beast to take issue with another man touching her, but it remained quiet. Still. Just as it had with Ares. Courtship might have been rash, but it had its benefits.
“A wise woman once said—” Ford’s smile fit right in, “—friendship is contagious.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Her eyes took on a glassy shine. “We’re all BFFs and can take turns braiding each other’s hair at our next sleepover.”
“Assuming we have any left after this.” Bishop wasn’t joking. “We’re talking high temps in close quarters. You two might want to call your healer and put him on notice.”
“Already done.” Midas made that call at the first mention of a flamethrower. “Abbott and his team are on standby at the Faraday.”
“Smart.” Hadley rewarded him with a quick smile that caused his heart to thud harder, just once, a thump that hurt his ribs. “If you’ve got the emergency call button, then I’m glad you’re on my team.”
“Who said this was your team?”
“Oh, Goldie.” She walked up to him, tapped her finger on his chest. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to establish dominance. Too bad you Care Bear stared all yours away.”
Amused, he curled his lip and growled at her.
“Adorable, really.” She flashed him a smile without showing the least bit of fear. “Dare I say precious?”
“Stop flirting.” Bishop made gagging noises. “I came to set things on fire, not watch Midas set your panties on fire.”
Midas ducked his head to hide his expression, but Hadley stood too close to miss it.
“He didn’t mean anything by it.” She touched his wrist. “Ignore him.”
Bishop called to her, and they bent their heads over her phone. Probably updating Linus or their team.
“I never envied you,” Ford said from behind him. “Not until this.”
“I haven’t dated in a century, and I haven’t let a woman touch me with affection in twice that.” He hated exposing his failures, even to a friend. “You’ll get your chance once she figures out how big a project she would be taking on.”
“I hate to tell you this, but Lee is stubborn as the day is long, and she hasn’t taken her eyes off you since the night I introduced you.” He thumped Midas in the chest. “You have to be feeling something in there. Otherwise you wouldn’t have kept marking her.”
“I could blame instinct.” The first and second time, he had. The third time was the one that convinced him he was in trouble. “I could say I had no choice.”
“I might have believed you if you hadn’t asked to court her.” Ford didn’t look bitter, just sad. “That wasn’t instinct. That was you, fitting the only words in your mouth you could say to claim her without admitting you’ve got the hots for her.”
There were lines men didn’t cross without alcohol involved. Admitting how long it had been since Midas had sex was one of them. The fact Hadley roused any sensation in him put him outside himself, a stranger in the body he had relearned after Lethe brought him home.
Those times were another line he didn’t cross, alcohol or not.
At great cost to his mother, a gwyllgi shaman had sealed off that part of his brain in order to save his sanity. He never studied the partition for fear he might find cracks forming. Best to ignore it and everything hidden behind it.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t recall those years—he could—but he didn’t feel them. Viewing those memories was the same as watching a movie on-screen. He might pity the actors, but it wasn’t him up there doing those things. It was someone else. It had to be. Otherwise…
“Look, I don’t mean to push.” Ford studied him. “I’ll dial it down as best I can.” His gaze wandered to Hadley and stuck. “Your inner wild man shouldn’t feel like he’s got to clai
m her before I do. It’s not a race. It’s the rest of…” he reeled his attention back to Midas, “…your lives.”
Our lives.
That’s what he almost said, though they could have both pretended he meant it in a different way than he intended.
Their attention brought Hadley’s head up, and she gave them both smiles.
Midas liked to think the one she gave him was warmer, and that it lingered, but he worried with Ford so close his competitive spirit was tangling with his…emotions? When had that happened?
“You two look serious.” She sauntered over, an eager glint in her eye. “Tell me you’re not talking about me.”
“If you must know,” Midas said for no other reason than she appeared to be waiting on Ford’s next zinger, “we were discussing my co-wash routine.”
Laughter snorted out her nose. “You were not.”
“It’s true.” Ford played along. “I want to get away from sulfates. They make my hair oily.”
“You two will have to save this titillating male bonding for after we raid the nest.” She clamped a hand on Midas’s forearm and tugged him after her. “This okay?”
“This is your investigation.” He fell in beside her. “You lead, I’ll follow.”
“No.” She flexed her fingers. “I mean this.”
Touching him.
Even granted full access to him without repercussions, she still asked, and that…mattered.
Since she had put thought into the question, he returned the favor by checking with himself. “Yes.”
For whatever reason, Hadley didn’t cause that wall to loom in his mind. She sensed it was there. A neat division between his past and his present, as if they belonged to two separate people, and she ignored it with the single-minded dedication of a woman aware that some walls were necessary to keep out the monsters.
“Good.” She tugged on him harder. “I’m handsy. I need a guy who’s okay with that.”
A teasing note warmed her voice, took the sting out of the barb. She cared, or she wouldn’t have asked. Long term was a long way off, but he let himself picture it. Tried to anyway. He couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She was the visionary of the two of them, with her big plans for the city and her hard eyes that had seen… What, exactly?
Pack of Lies Page 9
