Oversight (The Community Book 2)

by Santino Hassell

  “There’s no time to find Chase in the silo.” Six’s scowl was ferocious as he stared at the door again. Holden could see the gears in his head churning out plan after plan before dismissing one after the other. “This is what we’re going to do—Lia and Jessica will leave now so we know she’s safe, then the rest of you will find Chase and take Holden’s vehicle out of here. We’ll meet up the road at the bridge, but don’t stop before then. There’s a police station on 82, but they’re under the Community’s thumb.”

  “That’s a thing?” Nate asked.

  “Of course. Why do you think they want a psychic army? Having the police under their control is only the start of it.”

  Holden waved his hand, frowning. “Never mind that for now. If we’re leaving, what are you going to do?”

  Everyone else had seemed to understand this part of the plan except him. Or maybe they were just unwilling to question it.

  “Get going,” Six said to Lia. “Don’t hesitate if they come for you.”

  Her dark eyes grew larger in her face, but she just offered him a grim nod. “Be careful.”

  Holden nearly snarled at her to get gone already, and knew how erratic he was being. She was leaving with his mother on a hike that would take at least thirty minutes in her condition, and all he could think was why Six and he were splitting up. His priorities seemed faulty, but then again . . . were they?

  Family was turning out to be strings of DNA coded with secrets and lies. His relationship with Six was different. They’d cast aside all the shadowy truths because of the connection between them, and that meant more to him than anything.

  He said nothing as Lia and his mother slipped out of the barn without a backward glance, and waited as Elijah led Nate and Trent toward the silo. Nate touched his hand as he left, proving once again that he was an excellent empath despite constantly proclaiming his own failure at the art.

  “What’s your plan, Six?”

  “To distract your father.”

  Holden stepped forward, grabbing Six’s shoulders. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not. When he’s done visiting with the woman in the guest house—”

  “We need to figure out who she is,” Holden said. “She isn’t in her right mind. And the kids inside . . .” He shook his head. “I wonder if they’re his. If he’s been trying to breed psychics as powerful as the Black family. How many families he has like mine, and how many he’s destroyed like Nate’s and Chase’s.”

  “We might never know that, but I’ll throw him off his game before he can check in on your mother.” Disgust crossed Six’s countenance. It was amazing how long he’d pretended to respect the man he so clearly despised. “I’ll tell him I want to come back to the Farm. He’ll sit me down and talk about it, try to feel me out with an interrogation since he can’t get in my head.”

  “And you think that will work?”

  “Maybe. But if it doesn’t, I want you gone before he realizes what’s happened.” Six lifted his hands to brace Holden’s face, rough fingertips gliding over his stubble. “If he finds out that you’re involved, everything about your life will change, Holden. You’ll lose everything—your apartment, your money, and the club . . .” He trailed off, knowing how much Evolution meant to Holden. “You’ll have to give up your old life and go dark. It’s what other Ex-Comm people had to do, and it will be even more intense for you and your mother. Richard won’t only be betrayed, he’ll be humiliated once word gets out. Other members will question why his own wife and son fled. And that will lead to problems. He’ll want revenge.”

  Holden nodded numbly. It was true. It was all true. “Meet us by the pond?”

  Six’s brow puckered and his mouth opened, but then he looked away and nodded. “Okay.”

  It wasn’t reassuring. Not at all.

  Holden jerked Six closer. “I need you to meet us there, Six. I won’t leave without you.”

  “You will if it comes down to it,” Six said harshly, looking off to the side again. “You have more to lose than I do.”

  “That is bullshit. I have you to lose, and right now you’re everything to me.”

  Six’s gaze snapped back to Holden. The glacial darkness of his eyes glittered in the shadows of the barn, and his breath caught. “Stop saying shit like that or you’re going to break me right here in the middle of this half-assed escape plan.”

  “If I have to break you in order to keep you, I’ll do it.”

  “Fuck.”

  Six pressed their lips together. Just once and roughly, but it was enough for Holden to dig his psychic hooks in hard enough to wrap himself in Six. There were no flashing lights or thunderbolts marking that he’d found the one unlikely person who was meant to be his, but he knew it. No one else had ever experienced this overwhelming sense of being surrounded by Six—or of knowing the chaotic darkness that battled the sparks of hope and affection in his mind. And no one else had ever made him feel this necessary. This wanted and loved.

  “Be careful,” Holden said with a ragged edge. “Please.”

  “You be careful. Talk your way out of trouble if you have to. You’re good at that.”

  Holden didn’t agree at all, but he sealed the promise with another kiss before forcing himself to turn away.

  His jog to the silo was silent, but there was an undercurrent of menace that pinged with every step. He tried to ignore it the way he’d ignored the sinking feeling in his gut the moment Six had headed back to the guest house.

  The others had already found a way inside the silo by the time he caught up with them, but there was no chance of duplicating their entry strategy. By the time he was crouched in the darkness off to the side, a guard was standing right in the doorway, and he looked as though he’d be posted there for a while. Holden’s options were limited to staying outside and keeping watch, or knocking the guy out. Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t his strong suit, but being persuasive was. Especially to large men with soft mouths who looked like they could benefit from the touch of a queer’s hands.

  These tricks had been fun in the past, but there was nothing thrilling about walking out of his safe spot to approach a man with a gun at his side.

  “Hi there,” he called before getting too close. “I have a—”

  “Where did you come from?” the guard demanded.

  “I just arrived with my father.” Holden forced an encouraging smile, like he was giving the man the opportunity to redeem himself before acting the fool. “You know . . . Richard Payne.”

  A healthy dose of skepticism flattened the guard’s mouth. “Holden?”

  “Yes, that’s me. I know it’s hard to see me in the dark.” Holden sidled closer, cozying up to the guard so his high Payne cheekbones and tawny hair could be seen in the light above the door. He put a hand on the guard’s shoulder and felt the nerves crawling over him like a million spiders. “Troublesome gay son of our fearless leader, and a current tagalong since it’d been a while since I’ve seen my mother and brother.”

  “Oh, right.” Some of the nerves fled as the man latched on to this line of reasoning, but his vibes were still tinged with worry. What would happen if Holden fucked this up? “I know this is shitty, but I have to make sure you have permission to go up.”

  Holden leaned in closer, arching an eyebrow, and sensed those nerves begin to scatter again. He projected a sense of calm self-assurance and blew them over all those creepy crawling legs. “My father is in the guest house. I don’t think it’d be a good time to interrupt him.”

  Holden moved his hand in a comforting caress, and felt the nerves do barrel rolls into the thrill of attraction. It was times like these where Holden wondered if the attraction was ever real. Did his ability to influence bring out a bolder sense of intrigue and sexual desire . . . or did it create it in someone who had no actual interest? He hated that question, and loved that he didn’t have to ask it of himself with Six.

  “I just want to check in with my brother,” he said softly. “If you w
ant, we don’t even have to mention that I was here. That way they won’t know you didn’t check in.”

  The guard’s eyes darted around. Relief filled him. “Are you sure that’s okay with you?”

  “Positive.” Holden slid his hand from the man’s shoulder and up to the side of his neck. “I appreciate this. Maybe we can talk more after your shift?”

  “Yes,” he said with a throb in his voice.

  Was that thirsty response genuine? Anything was possible. Holden was known in the Community to be an accomplished cocksucker, but he was also laying on the vibes pretty thick. In the end, it didn’t matter. He smiled.

  “I’ll be right down, then.”

  Thankfully the interior of the silo was seemingly deserted. If there were other people guarding the building, he didn’t see them, but he also chose to climb the stairs instead of chancing the freight elevator. As he jogged upward, he had the sense of ascending to a blank portal with no way of knowing where it would lead, but then a sharp brightness exploded in his awareness like a flare, and he knew where to go. So much for Nate doubting his own abilities. That signal had held the strength of an empathic Molotov cocktail. The Black psychics were certainly nothing to fuck with. He just hoped Nate had managed to narrow the signal only to him.

  He followed the mental tracers up to the top floor and found the rest of the group crowding the narrow hallway in a pool of moonlight. Trent was standing closest to the exit, likely so he could snatch Nate and flee if things didn’t go their way, but Nate and Elijah were cautiously inching closer to the figure crouched on the floor.

  Chase didn’t look like himself. His body was thinner and harder, and his silver eyes were nearly glowing in the shadow of his capsule-like room. He looked between them like an animal trying to find a way out of its cage, and his breath came out in loud gasps.

  “What the fuck have they done to him?”

  “They probably have him on triple the shit they’re doping your mom with,” Trent muttered.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw the meds in your mother’s room. And they had him on a drip, but we detached it.”

  Smart boy. Figured the engineer would be the first one to pick up samples and evidence.

  “Is he dangerous?” Holden asked, flashing back to the night with Beck. To Trent’s face vacant like a stranger’s. “Or drugged?”

  It was Nate who answered as he crouched beside Chase on the floor. “I don’t know, but Chase is in there. I can feel him. He’s been . . . sending me visions for months. I thought they were nightmares, but they weren’t. I saw this place in my dreams. This hallway and this room. And the man with the cat eyes.”

  Ice slid down Holden’s spine.

  Nate continued. “I’ve been coaxing him out with the weird connection he forged last summer, but he started resisting once he saw Elijah.”

  “We need to go,” Holden said urgently. “We can carry him if necessary. Take the freight elevator, and knock out anyone who stops us.” Holden glanced at Trent. “You’re the muscle.”

  “Oh. Great. Because I’m a void?”

  “No. Because you’re big and can probably fight.”

  Trent seemed okay with that. He fearlessly stepped forward and reached for Chase, but Chase scooted backward with wilder eyes. There was no readily jumping up to flee like there had been with Holden’s mother. Just naked panic.

  “No. Just go,” he panted. “Leave.”

  “Chase—”

  “Go, motherfucker! Before Jasper comes.”

  Jasper with the cat eyes. The very memory of the man made Holden want to vomit.

  Elijah breached the space they’d been trying to give Chase and sank to his knees by his side. He showed no hesitation before putting his hands on Chase, one of the most talented psychics Holden had ever seen, who was currently going feral. He bared his teeth when Elijah drew him closer, and skittered backward once those slim arms closed around his tattooed neck. Everything about them contrasted—height, coloring, hair, and demeanor—but Chase froze once their bodies were pressed together.

  “I’ve got you,” Elijah whispered. “And I’m not leaving you. They can go, but I’ll stay.”

  “Please.” Chase reached up to bury his hands in Elijah’s hair. They were clawed as if to yank and pull, but he just clutched the smaller man. “Please leave me here. I can’t go.”

  “You can,” Elijah urged.

  “No. I can’t. Every time I try—I—” Chase shuddered. “I—”

  “Keep trying,” Elijah pleaded. “So we can get out of here.”

  “Elijah,” Chase said raggedly. “They brought you here for me. As . . . as an incentive. Or a punishment.”

  Elijah shuddered, but he only held on tighter. “Push through it, Chase. Just like you did when you told me to get out of New York. And when you tried to warn me and Nate. Please.”

  Chase’s body locked up, his eyes squeezing shut and stress lines forming across his brow. It looked like he was fighting an invisible force, or maybe his own brain trying to make him stay on the floor.

  “Please get up for me.” By now, Elijah’s voice was just a whisper. “For us.”

  Chase opened his eyes again, and this time they were damp. Another pained gasp escaped his mouth, but he struggled to his knees.

  “We need to hurry,” Holden said. “Please come with us or you’re ensuring they’ll have their hands on Elijah and will keep a closer watch next time.”

  Chase cast Nate a furious look, full of scorn and disgust just like the old days. “You shouldn’t have brought him here. I thought it was just you, not all of these extra people.”

  The words stung, but Holden didn’t react. It wasn’t as though it was a surprise. After all, Chase had trusted a boy he’d never met living across the country rather than the brother he’d been raised with. But then, their upbringing was what had caused so much lack of trust. Holden was the chosen son and Chase had always been the tool.

  “We’re not leaving you.” Elijah leaped to his feet, one small hand gripping Chase’s larger one. “We go together or I don’t go at all.”

  “Fuck,” Chase hissed, but this time he managed to stagger to his feet. Holden wondered if it was because Elijah was holding on to him so tight and acting as an anchor. “You’re a persistent pain in the ass.”

  “Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass. So let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Relief swarmed them all as Chase shuffled along with them, even as he refused to allow anyone but Elijah to support him. However, dread struck down the hope of this all ending with the speed of a viper. From across the farm, Holden could feel that Six was in trouble.

  “You can’t do this.”

  Holden evaded Nate’s grasping hand. “Yes, I can.”

  “No, you fucking can’t.” Chase attempted to draw himself up to his full height but only succeeded in leaning more heavily on Elijah. As physically weak as Chase was, he was still powerful enough to have used his telepathy to get rid of the guard—apparently planting a thought in his head to leave his position and check the cottages. “You didn’t drag my raggedy ass out of that silo just to get caught up by yourself.”

  “I won’t get caught, but thank you for that vote of confidence.” Holden glanced in the direction of the guest house. “Run south until you hit the lake. There should be a boat you can take to get to the road where Six’s bike is, instead of running the whole way with Chase. Leave us the bike and go back up north until you get to my car.”

  Trent didn’t disagree with the plan and quickly swapped keys. His usual jokes and retorts had dried up as the sense of imminent danger cloaked them all. The only thing he exuded was a sense of urgency to get Nate to safety.

  “Holden, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Elijah said. “Please just—”

  “No,” he said sharply. “You wouldn’t leave Chase. And Nate would never leave Trent. There’s no goddamn difference here. I’m not walking away without knowing if he’s okay.”
<
br />   Holden could see the questions in Elijah’s face, the doubts and surprise that he felt this strongly for a man who had started out as a handler and an assumed spy. But there was no time left to pacify them or explain. And for Holden there were no other options. He would go back, and he would make sure Six was safe. Regardless of the outcome.

  “We’ll wait for you by the lake for as long as we can,” Nate whispered. “Be careful.”

  Holden nodded once before sprinting away. His speed was reckless, but the urgency he’d felt in Trent was mirrored in himself. Not knowing what was happening was creating an inferno of doubt and terror that churned in his stomach until he felt sick.

  He slowed only to duck behind a structure or slink through the shadows when he got too close to guards, but he made it to the guest house in less than a third of the time it’d originally taken them to carefully pick their way to the silo.

  There were more people in the area around the main and guest houses, but Holden’s senses pinpointed on only two. The commanding force of his father’s icy veins, and the wavering blankness of Six. He’d drawn his mental shield up tight. Even Holden had trouble penetrating it, and he could only hope that his father wasn’t able to move past it at all.

  With the house full of and surrounded by additional security, there was no way to stealthily sneak inside. Barging in the front door would put him in the same position he worried Six was in. Interrogated and holed up with a man who was willing to kill and torture to gain the kind of control he wanted over the Community.

  Ignoring the building dread and the doubts that he would be able to save Six if it came down to it, Holden crouched by the side of the house and examined the exterior. There was a balcony on the second level that he could attempt to pull himself up to, but he’d have to access athleticism that had long since been buried in years of drinking, sex, and brisk walks to Broadway to catch cabs. Maybe those months of doing Pilates would come in handy.

  Holden uncoiled from his crouch, channeled Six’s measured graceful movements, and pulled himself onto the edge of the railing. After a second of wobbling, he pressed his palms against the side of the house and finger-walked them upward until he could grip the bottom rail. Once his hands were securely wrapped around the rails, he pulled himself up with a pained grunt. To hell with Pilates. He needed to go back to upper-body strength training a few times a week.