by W. J. May
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Devon muttered, shaking his head as he slipped off his pants and pulled his shirt over his head.
She giggled and tried to shimmy out from under him, but he pinned her arms above her head, lowering himself on top of her with an air of martyred resignation. His fingers eased the silk away from her tight clutches, and started trailing it down her ivory skin.
“But I guess since it’s coming apart anyway, we could always—”
There was a knock on the door.
Both froze.
“Hey, you guys up?”
Devon practically fell off the bed as Rae hastened to cover herself with a pillow. Their eyes locked upon the handle, and for a moment Rae could practically hear both their hearts pounding guiltily as a thousand unspeakable Kerrigan scenarios flashed suddenly through their heads.
Have we been found out already?! Did something happen? But Devon was watching all night! He would’ve seen if anything went wrong!
There was another knock, gentler this time.
“Devon? Rae?”
As usual, Devon was the first to recover himself. “Yeah,” there was barely a hint of annoyance in his voice, “what’s up, Luke?” It was a testament to his skills as a covert operative that he was able to infuse even an ounce of normalcy into his speaking. Not enough to fool most people, but enough to get by in a pinch.
He and Rae exchanged a quick look, then they held their breath, waiting for a response.
A response that turned out to be as innocuous as any they could have hoped for.
“I’m heading to that market in town to get some breakfast. Molly had a bad night with the baby, and I need to pick up some more of those anti-nausea pills. You guys want anything?”
Rae let out a silent sigh of relief, while Devon ran his hands over his face. He resurfaced with a faint smile. “No, man. We’re cool. Thanks.”
“Alright. See you soon. Sorry if I woke you.”
It wasn’t until he was walking away, not until they heard his footsteps descending the stairs, that Rae and Devon realized the horrific implications of what he’d said. What a little trip into town might mean… when all the cars were housed in the garage.
“WAIT!”
They called out at the same time, blurring into action as they hastened to get dressed. Devon stumbled frantically to the door, yanking on a pair of jeans as he did so, while Rae sprang to her feet and conjured a thick trench coat, pulling it on over nothing but a pair of lacy panties. She was still knotting the belt when Devon ripped open the door and half-fell out into the hallway, taking just a second to get his bearings before sprinting to the stairs.
In a last-ditch effort, he decided just to jump instead, landing right in front of Luke as he was reaching for the front door.
“Hey,” he ignored Luke’s look of surprise and casually leaned against the doorknob, as if these sorts of dramatic entrances were an everyday occurrence, “actually, Rae and I were wanting to head into town anyway. Why don’t you let us pick up breakfast today?”
As if on cue, Rae skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, her boots making an angry screeching sound as she clutched desperately at the belt of her coat. Well aware that two sets of eyes were fixed upon her, she smoothed down her hair and made a conscious effort to descend the steps with as much dignity as she was able to muster.
In hindsight, it was a good thing they got Luke—not one of the others. While Molly and Julian read into every little detail, Luke was by far the most easy-going of the gang. Even if that quality had been pushed to the brink as of late, he was still able to let these little eccentricities roll off his shoulders in a way of which the others were incapable.
In hindsight, it also would’ve been alright if they got Angel. She simply didn’t care.
“Okay.” He raised his eyebrows but stepped back with a little grin, amused by the uncharacteristically feeble efforts being made by his friends. “Just be sure you get the bottle with the blue lettering. The other stuff didn’t work. And she says she doesn’t want fruit today. Just bagels.”
Molly Skye? Trespassing into the forbidden world of carbs? She must have had a really bad night…
“Got it,” Devon said quickly, still blocking the door.
The one thing that hadn’t changed at all since the fight were his adorably over-the-top efforts to help as much as he could with Molly’s turbulent pregnancy. From cherry ice cream runs to coconut bath oil, he’d gotten it all. Rae had even caught him browsing online for cribs with Julian, before she’d suggested gently that might be something that Molly and Luke wanted to do together.
“Cool, well…thanks.” Luke headed back to his own bedroom, casting another quirky smile over his shoulder as he went. “Have fun with…whatever the hell is going on this morning.”
Rae blushed and nodded as Devon gave him a mock salute. The second he was gone, however, the two of them turned to each other in mild panic.
“What the heck are we going to do now?” Rae asked quietly.
Devon held her gaze for a moment before his training kicked in and he assumed a practiced sort of calm, prioritizing their problems one at a time.
“I’m going to go out to the boathouse to make sure that Simon’s ties held, and he didn’t get up to any mischief in the middle of the night.”
Rae nodded quickly, glancing nervously out the window towards where her biological father was bound in rope to her fiancé’s favorite car. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’ll go do that.”
She started marching automatically towards the door, but Devon caught her gently by the shoulders and turned her right back around. “No—I’ll go do that. You, my dear, have your own mission to complete.”
“My own mission…?”
Her face blanked, but he tucked her hair behind her ears with a little smile.
“You’ve got to get some bagels.”
Bagels…right.
She considered it for a second before her mouth twisted up into a wry grin. “You sure gave me the more dangerous task, didn’t you? All those bakeries… so little time…”
He chuckled and lifted his coat off the rack by the door, slipping it over his shoulders before giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Please, don’t fight me on this. He poses a much smaller risk to me than he does to you. I don’t…I don’t even want to think about it.”
She bowed her head, but didn’t put up a word of resistance. Devon was allowing her to play out the scenario with her father. The least she could do was allow him the basic protections. “Okay,” she kissed him again before grabbing the keys to the work car, “I’ll be back soon as I can.” She swept out the door without another word, unwilling to stay lest she change her mind and insist on going along with him. The brisk morning air bit into her face the second she walked outside, and she slipped into a tatù just to get to the car faster.
Devon might be right about a lot of things. Heck—he might be right about most things. But this, he was wrong about.
Simon Kerrigan didn’t pose a small risk to anyone. Not by a longshot…
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Rae was speeding back to the house.
She’d made it to the market in record time. Hurried down the aisles, trying to ignore how surreally ordinary the whole thing felt. Found the anti-nausea pills with the blue lettering. Purchased a gigantic crate of bagels.
But no matter how fast she went, or how sweetly she smiled at the cashier just to get them to hurry along, she only had one thing on her mind.
Devon’s with my father right now. Devon’s with my father.
It looped there like an unholy chant, raising the hair on the back of her neck as she flew over the English countryside on her way home.
Home.
Funny, it was somehow easy to think of it that way. First New York had been home, then Guilder, then London. Then the farmhouse in Scotland.
And now…this secluded mansion in Kent.
Not one of them was any mo
re authentic than the next. All of them had some legitimate claim. And yet, whenever Rae warmed to the notion of ‘home,’ she found that not a single one of them leapt to mind. Because when she pictured home, she didn’t picture the place.
She pictured the people.
A short, but tender roster of faces scrolled quickly through her mind. Faces of the best people she knew. All of them, hiding in that lovely house.
And here, she had brought this new disaster right to their doorstep.
Her foot pressed down on the gas and the car shot forward, making it back to the mansion in record time. She swung into the nearest parking space and was out of the car before the engine had even cut out, marching frantically towards the entrance to the boathouse.
Devon was leaning against the front of it, staring towards the house, his eyes lost in thought. He glanced up quickly when she rounded the corner and flashed her a quick smile. “You got the bagels?”
She held up the bag, but focused entirely upon the door. “How did it go? Is everything alright? Is he still tied up in there? Maybe we should—”
“Hey,” Devon stepped deliberately into her line of sight, calming her down, “just take a breath, okay? He’s still in there. Everything’s fine. Now that you’re back, we just have to figure out what to do next.” He tilted her head down and caught her eye. “Alright? Can you do that?”
She nodded hastily, but for the millionth time since she’d gotten up that morning she came up frustratingly blank. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. But, Devon… I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Nothing has changed since yesterday. They’re still going to murder him the second he’s taken into custody before the trial—”
“But, babe, he can’t stay here.” Devon cast a glance behind him with a shudder, and Rae suddenly wondered as to what exactly had transpired in the boathouse that morning. “You said it yourself: it’s a miracle that no one’s already stumbled across him. No matter what happens next, we’ve got to get him out of here before someone else—”
“Hey, guys!”
It was a testament to how shaken up both Devon and Rae were that neither one of them had heard Julian walking over to them across the grass. They whirled around in alarm, but for once in his life their beloved psychic didn’t seem to notice.
He had gotten dressed today, an occasion indeed. Moving briskly across the grass in dark jeans and a leather jacket. Dark hair pulled back into its customary ponytail, and a rather unexpected smile lighting up his face.
It’s because he finally got some sleep last night, Rae thought to herself, looking him over. I only heard him scream one time.
The battle at the factory had been particularly hard on their clairvoyant friend. Still reeling from the attempted murder of his girlfriend just a few days before, Julian had been extra vigilant when it came to protecting Angel from the worst of the fighting. Of course, Angel was never really one to shirk a fight. As such…they had found themselves in a bit of a tight spot.
When Devon, Gabriel, Kraigan, and Rae had all disappeared to go after Cromfield, the battlefield was suddenly missing some key players. As a result, their opposition was left with a suddenly small list of high-value targets. And between his skill as a warrior and his innate ability to see the future, Julian had been top of that list.
Despite suffering devastating casualties in the process, they had forced him and Angel onto a rickety steel bridge with enemies advancing on them from both sides. The two lovers fought back to back, inflicting unspeakable devastation, but still they were still outnumbered fifty to one.
In the end… it had been a matter of fate.
There had come a moment amidst all the bloodshed and fighting, where Julian’s eyes had flashed suddenly white. His body had frozen in place, and when he shook himself back to the present he was a different man.
His hand had reached behind him and grabbed Angel. She turned, and for a split second the entire world had seemed to stop.
“Do you trust me?” he breathed.
Her sapphire eyes widened but she nodded her head, flinching back as a bullet ripped through the air just inches from the side of her face.
“I trust you.”
The air around them started to shimmer, and a single tear fell down his face. Then, without stopping to think, he took her in his arms and threw them both over the side of the bridge.
They fell through a pane of glass, and hit the ground just as the entire thing exploded.
The vision Julian had seen gave him the chance to save everyone. Over a hundred people, although every single one of them wanted to see him dead.
He chose to save only himself and Angel instead.
It was the right thing to do.
Rae, Devon, Luke, and Molly had told him a million times over. Beth had told him. Fodder had told him. Even Gabriel had broken his self-imposed isolation long enough to send him a text.
None of it mattered.
Behind those beautiful eyes, Julian still saw every one of their faces. As clearly as if he was still trapped up on that bridge, knowing that every single one of them was going to die.
The screaming last night made sense. The smile this morning didn’t.
“What’re you doing out here?” he asked curiously, gesturing to the bag. “Luke said that you guys were going to get breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Rae recovered quickly, lifting the bag of bagels in the air, “you want one?”
He flashed her a quick smile, but shook his head. “Actually, I was thinking I was going to go out for a drive. Clear my head a little.”
Both Rae and Devon froze in a moment of shared panic, torn completely in two.
They had been tirelessly encouraging Julian to get out of the house. Take in the fresh air. Do exactly what it was he’d just suggested. They should be thrilled.
Except, Julian’s car was parked inside. In fact, it was currently anchoring the chair of a certain homicidal villain they’d recently kidnapped.
Fortunately, Devon had the perfect solution.
“Take my car,” he said immediately, fishing around in his pocket for the keys.
Julian glanced up in surprise. The luxury sports car Devon had been gifted by the Crown Prince of England had been officially off-limits since Julian had accidently stalled it on the top of a hill in Scotland. Apparently, in the world of men that sort of thing was damn near unforgivable.
“Are you sure?” Julian caught the keys, looking a little confused. “We haven’t even looked at the engine since that time. I don’t want to accidentally break anything—”
“Nonsense.” Devon flashed him an easy smile as he cut him off. “It’s good you’re going. You should enjoy the ride.” He winked. “In a proper car.”
Julian smiled tentatively, a sudden thrill of excitement dancing in his eyes as he looked down at the precious keys. “Thanks, man. That’s really cool of you.”
With a parting wave, he headed over to the boathouse.
Wait…NO!
Both Devon and Rae were quick to jump in his path.
“What’re you doing?” Devon demanded, trying not to sound as agitated as he was. It was an act at which he failed spectacularly.
Julian paused, looking curiously him up and down.
“I’m…getting the car?”
Devon shook his head quickly, trying his best to coax his friend the other way. “The car’s parked around behind the house, remember? By that old tool shed.”
An unintentional tremor shook his voice, and Julian frowned.
“No. You moved it inside after it started to rain.”
He took another step forward, but before his foot even hit the ground Devon snatched the keys right back out of his hands. “Actually, I don’t want you driving my car after all. You’ll only mess it up again.”
Rae’s eyes snapped shut in a grimace. Nice, Devon. Real smooth.
Julian raised his eyebrows, but let it go.
“Fine. Whatever. No need to be a dick.” He pulle
d his own keys out of his pocket instead and started heading for the garage, but before he’d taken more than two steps—Devon had snatched those away as well.
Oh crap. This is going to end badly.
Sure enough, Julian’s unexpectedly good mood faded completely away as he took a step backwards, glaring at his best friend. “What the hell are you doing?”
Devon simply froze.
From the day Rae had first met him, Devon Wardell could lie better than anyone she’d ever seen. It wasn’t that he was inherently duplicitous, quite the contrary. He just had an innate ability to twist the moment’s narrative to whatever would best help his cause.
She had seen him talk down ambassadors and diplomats. She’d seen him steal information from corporate executives, only to sell it back to them after being hired for its recovery. She’d once seen him convince an entire mob of people that he couldn’t be the man they were looking for, because he’d grown up on a simple farm in Eastern Ukraine.
Needless to say, when it came to storytelling Devon was a champion.
…but none of that mattered when it came to Julian.
Bromance was understating it. Best friends was understating it. The two of them were closer than brothers. Close to a point where they were fundamentally incapable of keeping even the most trivial details from each other. There’s probably never been a partnership in the Privy Council as close as these two. Or a friendship.
They tagged along to each other’s haircuts. Had long, whiskey-filled conversations trying to interpret each other’s dreams. Devon had even confessed that, in the high of completing a mission, they had once contemplated getting matching tattoos.
It simply wasn’t in their nature to lie. Not to each other.
And right on cue, Devon started to unravel.
“Don’t…don’t go out for a drive.” In a fit of nervous energy, he started tossing the keys back and forth so fast they became nothing but a silver blur. “The roads are really icy, and—”
“Dev,” Julian interrupted, shaking his head, “what are you—”
“I’m pretty sure the Jag is out of gas anyway. So there’s no point in trying to—”
“No, it isn’t. I just filled it up. What the hell is going—”
