Of Blind Fate (Operation: Middle of the Garden Book 5)

by Micah Persell

  He cursed beneath his breath, shifting his weight in an attempt to rearrange his sudden erection.

  His gaze traveled her face, wanting to see desire there. Desire for him and not for a ticket out of the life she’d had to live.

  She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but Oliver jumped in first. “Wait,” he blurted.

  She jumped, and Oliver made his way around the couch, desperate to get to her before she said something he both wanted and suddenly dreaded to hear. “Don’t say anything yet.” He stopped right in front of her. She swallowed and tipped her head back, able to sense his proximity.

  Her brows drew together. “You don’t want to hear my answer?”

  “No,” he said firmly at the same time his mind screamed yes! “You asked for time,” Oliver said, shoving that voice aside. “We have three days. If I can’t make you want me in that amount of time, then your decision is made.” Oh, God, what had he just said? “Fair enough?” he tacked on at the end.

  Instantly, her face cleared, all traces of those tiny worry lines gone. “Oh, yes.” She swayed toward him. “That is quite fair, I think.”

  Oh, fuck, her voice had gone all whisky on him. “Then it’s a deal.” His own voice surprised him with how deep it had gotten. His mind again took up screaming at him. Three days? Three days! For all he knew, she might have been coming out here to agree to sleep with him immediately, and he’d put on the brakes.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Oliver pulled it out and saw Jericho’s number flashing in the caller ID. He frowned and took the call. “Hey, man.”

  “She made a call again,” Jericho said without preamble.

  Oliver’s muscles seized, and his gaze shot to Farrah, who was still looking up at him with the ghost of a soft smile on her lips. “That right?” He kept his tone light.

  “To the same number in Kabul. And there’s a meeting in five; we need to talk about Jayden.”

  Oliver drank in Farrah’s every feature, searching desperately for a hint of her guilt or secrets—secrets that she still, apparently, very much withheld from him.

  Of course she’s keeping secrets from you. You assured her she was no more than your hooker. Wham, bam, get the fuck out, ma’am.

  Oliver gritted his teeth. “See you in a few,” he said, failing miserably to keep his true feelings from his voice. He ended the call and looked back at Farrah.

  Her eyes dripped with disappointment. “You are leaving?”

  His gut clenched. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and leaned down, pausing a hair’s breadth from her lips, seconds away from kissing her goodbye as though it were the most natural of things. He stopped himself just in time, but couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth as he said, “Only for a little while.”

  She gasped as his words caressed her lips, and the sound shot through his body. As he pressed his lips together to keep them where they were, she swayed forward, putting her mouth even closer to his.

  Complex thought abandoned him, and his brain fixated on one thing only: kiss her!

  Farrah pulled in a slow breath; her eyelashes fluttered as she closed her eyes.

  His own eyes widened just as she stood on tip toe and brushed the bow of her top lip across his bottom one. He sucked in a sharp breath.

  Farrah stiffened and jerked away, emotion flitting unchecked across her features. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Why would I—?”

  “No.” He reached out and snagged her hand. “It’s okay.” So okay, in fact, that Oliver was having a difficult time breathing. “A goodbye kiss is very appropriate.” He pulled her back toward him, and she only resisted a moment before moving back into his space. “Can I—?”

  Instead of an audible answer, her lips parted, and quickened breaths brushed across his neck.

  That’s a yes.

  Oliver dipped down to capture her bottom lip between his own, meaning to keep it short. But when she tipped her head back for him, the taste of her rocketed from his mouth straight to his groin, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. His hands moved to her arms; he grabbed her slender biceps and pulled her into him, rolling her bottom lip back and forth between his teeth and ending with a sharp little nip that wrenched a startled cry from her.

  Oh, he definitely liked that sound. He would make her do it again. And again.

  Meeting in five. Hell, it was going to take that long just for him to be able to walk right. He released her lip with a moan. He opened his eyes and found Farrah’s wide and dazed ones.

  She managed to carry a look that was a combination of innocence and devilry, and his heart sank once again at the call he’d just received. He brought his hands up and cupped her cheeks. Tell me your secrets. Trust me.

  He’d laid it all out there for her, and it hadn’t been easy, yet she kept things from him. Things that might mean she wasn’t trustworthy at all.

  The fog of lust began to lift.

  He forced a smile he no longer fully felt. “You ever see Star Wars?”

  Her slightly unfocused eyes cleared a little, and her brows drew together. “What?”

  “Prepare for the most amazing thing you’ve ever encountered.” He trailed one of his hands down to snag her fingers and led her over to the couch. “I have a quick meeting, but Han will keep you company while I’m gone, and I’ll come back with supper, okay? You want me to call one of the other ladies to keep you company?”

  Farrah shook her head, more what the hell are these words you’re saying than a negative reply to his question. He settled her on the couch, propped her feet up on the coffee table, and reached over to snag the blanket from where it draped the back of the sofa. He covered her with it, tucking her in tightly, and then turned on the TV. After handing her the remote, he hesitated.

  They’d just reached a truce of sorts, and he was being called away. To say he was miffed over that was the understatement of the century, but didn’t he want revenge? Didn’t he need to know what the phone call had been about?

  Didn’t he?

  His hand hovered awkwardly over the crown of her head. Shockingly, he might want to stay here cuddled up to her more than he wanted those answers.

  Which was why he snapped his hand back to his side, threw a terse, “Later,” her direction, and high-tailed it out of the apartment.

  He barely noticed what he passed as he stewed over her phone call and what it could possibly mean. Damn it, was she or was she not their enemy?

  More confirmation that he just needed to get this over with and get her out of his life so things could return to normal.

  Nice, apocalyptic normal.

  He kicked into a jog and didn’t slow down when he reached the meeting room, placing a hand on the door jam and swinging inside. He nearly crashed to the floor when he saw everyone was there. Everyone—including Jayden and even Grace, who was very green around the gills.

  The air was thick with tension. Each Impulse Pair sat together, and for the first time since Oliver had known them all, there was palpable division amongst everyone. Jayden and Grace sat at one end of the table; Anahita and Max sat at the other. Jayden wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes, and the usual chatter that filled the air whenever they were all together was notably absent.

  Oliver was used to being the black sheep of the family with his habit of dying constantly and the mood swings that went with it. He frowned and walked pointedly over to Grace. He leaned down and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “How you doing, gorgeous?” he asked, being sure to talk loudly enough for everyone to hear him.

  Subliminal message: We’re family here, geniuses. Get your acts together.

  Grace’s eyes were relieved and grateful. “I kept breakfast down this morning,” she whispered with a shrug of one of her shoulders.

  “Yes,” Jayden mumbled. “Hotdogs out of the microwave dipped in mayonnaise. Not sure if keeping it down is a benefit.”

  Oliver gasped and spread his hand over his heart. “That’s my favorite breakfast, too!”

  Grace chuck
led, and Jayden reached over and squeezed her hand, flashing Oliver a look of gratitude. Oliver winked at them both and took the empty seat to Grace’s right. No one had bothered saving a seat for Farrah, and he was the only Impulse-Paired person in the room who was alone.

  Great feeling.

  He grinned at Luke, the other member of the team flying solo, and gritted his teeth. “Damn, people, who died?” Oliver clicked his tongue. “Ah, forgot. It was me.”

  “Oliver,” Max said, the word full of warning.

  “Jayden—” Anahita leaned forward and spread her hands on the table. “Do not do this. Do not leave us.”

  “I cannot keep Grace safe on my own.” Jayden gazed at the floor. “And I cannot lose her—” His voice broke at the end, and he swallowed hard.

  “Who said you were on your own?” Oliver eyed everyone at the table. “Seriously, I want to know who said it, because that shit doesn’t fly.”

  “No one has said that,” Anahita replied.

  “You know very well that this threat is credible.” Jayden’s voice was an exhausted rumble. “Every powerful creature in the world will be out for us. I cannot bring that to your house.”

  “Bring it.” Max reached out and rubbed the back of Anahita’s neck. “We’re a military compound—”

  “And they are every supernatural thing you could imagine and have had nightmares about. They will tear through your compound like a sword through paper.”

  Shit.

  “Truly?” Jericho asked.

  “Yes,” Anahita said softly. “Truly.”

  “You have your families here,” said Jayden. “Not everyone in this building is a soldier, and they should not have to be.”

  The room got quiet again. Oliver felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. Wow, Jayden may truly have to leave us. Fight against us.

  This was unacceptable. “How in God’s name is Remiel able to get away with this?” Oliver blurted. “He’s an angel for fuck’s sake. Wouldn’t this make him Fall?”

  Anahita shook her head. “This is far past the point of Falling. He will be—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “He will be cast out for this. If any of these plans go into motion, he will be cast out.”

  “Cast out?” asked Eli. “Like Lucifer cast out?”

  “Oh, dear God,” Luke muttered.

  Oliver propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. And he was worried about getting laid. Nothing like a new contender for Satan to put things into perspective.

  “I do not understand why he would do this,” Anahita said. “Why did I not kill him?” She shook her head. “Jayden, I am so sorry.”

  “Wait a moment.” Luke leaned forward. “Plans have to be put into motion for him to be cast out?”

  Anahita nodded. “We are not punished for things we think about doing.”

  Luke looked at Jayden. “Then, you spy. You go to their side, secure protection for Grace, and you spy.”

  Oliver perked up. That was brilliant.

  Jayden straightened as well, but he did not look as hopeful. “I have seen you at work,” Jayden said to Luke. “I have no talent for espionage. I have had to tell the truth for millennia.”

  The hope in the room dropped. Jayden was terrible at deceit. They all knew it.

  “Then I would go with you,” Luke said. “I could defect.”

  Abilene gasped.

  “No,” Oliver said. “Absolutely not.”

  Luke shook his head. “Don’t be emotional. Any of you. It’s the most logical step.” He gestured to them all. “You all have families. If they find a way to kill me for good, it’s no big loss.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Oliver bellowed.

  Luke smiled sadly at Oliver. “I cannot let this happen to the world, Oliver. We can’t let Remiel—”

  Oliver slammed his fist on the table, and everyone in the room jumped. “Just because Remiel gets cast out doesn’t mean he turns into Satan Junior.” He looked at Anahita. “Am I right?”

  Anahita’s eyes were wide, and she shook her head. “We do not know what will happen. A group of angels has only been cast out once.” Her eyes took on a little life. “But only one of them became Satan.”

  “Right,” Luke said. “The rest just became demons.” He rolled his eyes. “No big deal.”

  “Luke, this isn’t your responsibility,” Oliver said, practically begging.

  Luke blinked at him and frowned. “I know about it. I can do something to try to stop it. It is most definitely my responsibility.”

  “It’s all of our responsibilities,” Eli said. “Oliver, Luke isn’t alone in this any more than Jayden is.”

  “He’s a soldier,” Max said softly. “The best at espionage we both have ever seen. We would not hesitate to send him on a mission under any other circumstances, and we shouldn’t hesitate now.”

  Oliver clamped his mouth shut. This was not the same, and if they couldn’t see it, they were all damn fools. He shoved to his feet. “Fine,” he growled. “But I’m against this. I want it on the record. And you—” he jabbed a finger in Luke’s direction. “Don’t you fucking die. I will never forgive you.” He stormed toward the door.

  “We’re not done here,” Eli called after him.

  “You want to do this, come up with it on your own.”

  “Wait—”

  Oliver reached the hallway, slammed the door behind him, and kicked the wall next to it. “Damn it, Luke.” His anger left him in a devastating rush. He leaned his forehead against the wall. Oliver hadn’t even realized he’d been depending on Luke. Relying on him to be there when Farrah left. Luke had been Oliver’s constant friend for a decade. What was he supposed to do without him? If he died?

  The door to the meeting room opened, and Oliver jerked upright, hoping to God his eyes weren’t red. It was Jericho.

  “What,” Oliver snapped at him.

  Jericho looked at him for several uncomfortable seconds, his blue eyes kind. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Oliver glared.

  Jericho sighed. “We want your permission to put a tap on your phone.”

  Oliver’s eyes widened. “There’s not already a tap on it? On all of our phones?”

  Jericho shrugged. “This is a family facility before it is a military facility.”

  “You don’t need my permission, Jericho.” Oliver shoved a weary hand through his hair. “Her phone calls are a risk. I get it. Do it.”

  Jericho nodded and turned back toward the door, but he hesitated before twisting the knob. “I don’t think they’re a risk. Just so you know.”

  Oliver clenched his jaw and jerked a nod. Wish I could agree with you. Jericho disappeared into the meeting room, and Oliver directed his footsteps toward home. Not trusting Farrah wasn’t going to keep him from her. That ship had sailed. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to throw himself in her arms and curl up there. Forget about his friend marching off to what was, no doubt, a death mission.

  He remembered he’d promised supper about halfway to the apartment, so he quickly diverted to the dining commons. He was reaching for a tray to load up enough food for two people, but his lip curled when he caught the scent of vegetable soup.

  Soup of any kind was a definite no-go. Unfortunately, so was bread. Having to live on cheap, watered-down broth and old, crusty bread for a decade had permanently turned him off of those two meal staples.

  Looked like he was cooking tonight. He carried his tray through the swinging doors to the main kitchen and headed straight to the refrigerator. He grabbed anything that looked promising, not really paying attention due to the fact that he resented this little diversion and how it was keeping him away from Farrah.

  As soon as he thought he had enough, he lit out of there like a cat with its tail on fire. He needed Farrah. Needed her, and not for sex.

  Although…come to think of it, he wouldn’t turn sex down. But they’d just come to their agreement a short while ago. There was no way he’d convin
ce Farrah to sleep with him in so little time.

  He paused at the door to his apartment, wondering if he should knock before he just barged in, but then dismissed the thought. This was his apartment after all. If she was doing anything she didn’t want him to catch her doing, he probably should catch her doing it, all things and all wire taps considered.

  He juggled the tray and opened the door.

  Farrah was still parked in front of Star Wars. She was leaning forward; her fingers were pressed over her lips.

  Oliver tilted his head to catch a view of the screen and saw that it was the epic fight scene on the Death Star.

  Against all odds and even after the shit that had just happened, Oliver felt his lips twitching, almost as though he wanted to smile. “I’m home.”

  Farrah cried out, jumping and flailing a little, but she didn’t look his way. “Come here and tell me who is winning,” she demanded.

  Full-fledged smile. Oliver ditched the tray on the table and rushed over to the sofa. When Farrah scooted over a bit, Oliver stared at the couch cushion beside her. Should he sit close to her or—

  There was a sudden ache in his belly, and with an inward groan, Oliver admitted he would not pass up the opportunity to sit as close to her as possible.

  Holding his breath, he eased down beside her. His flank pressed against hers, and she sucked in a breath. Oliver stiffened. Had he overplayed his hand?

  Farrah blinked several times and then relaxed, pressing her arm against his with a brief, shy smile, causing Oliver to gulp past a too-dry throat. She’d allowed it. God, seemed to like it.

  Like he was in middle school again, he shifted the arm that was wedged between them, awkwardly maneuvering it along the top of the sofa and around her shoulders. The only thing missing from his move was the fake yawn.

  With barely a hesitation, she settled under his arm, her shoulder pressing into his ribs.

  If he thought he’d been grinning like a fool moments ago, it was nothing compared to the smile he was sporting now.