Warders, Volume Two

by Mary Calmes

  I looked over my shoulder and saw Owen, another of my team, giving me a very pained look. “What?”

  “He’s crying.”

  I squinted at him. “I’m sorry?”

  “The kid, the son, he’s upstairs locked in his bathroom, and he’s crying. Do you want us in there? Do you want the door down?”

  “Yeah, I dunno what he’s got in there.”

  “Will do.” He began to turn away.

  “Is the house cleared?”

  “Yep, all clear.”

  “Great.”

  He left, and I was alone again with my partner.

  “Did you hear me?”

  And he meant from earlier.

  “How could I not?”

  “Okay.”

  Finally we were done.

  “HEY.”

  Hours later I turned from the enormous television screen to look at Hayden as he walked into the living room. “Hi,” I greeted him.

  He rubbed his tousled curls and flopped down on the other end of the couch, away from me. “Where is everyone?”

  “All gone except me.” I sighed, realizing how tired I was. “And the security guards outside, of course.”

  “Why do I need security guards?”

  “Because we’re on lockdown here,” I told him.

  “I gave a ton of people the security code for my house, you know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We changed everything today.”

  “You sure as hell did.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t be sorry about that. This is my job, not to mention you needed this bad. I have never seen someone with more people taking advantage of him. Your life should serve as a warning to others of what not to do.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Have people been trying to get in?”

  “Yep.”

  “Shit,” he groaned. “All my friends are gonna be so pissed.”

  “As far as I can tell, you don’t have any friends besides Maria Santos and some guy named Christian.”

  “Christian,” he breathed out. “God, I haven’t seen him in months.”

  I shrugged. “Well, so far, like I said, only he and Maria check out.”

  “God, they both probably hate me.”

  “Nope,” I told him. “Cielo talked to Maria, and I talked Christian. They would both love to see you. Maria wants you to come back to school, and Christian says that you’re welcome to come by the hospital and see him whenever you like.”

  “He’s doing his residency. He’s gonna be a pediatrician.”

  “So he said.”

  He shook his head. “I’m so stupid.”

  “You’re young; you’re supposed to be stupid.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Well, to an extent.” I chuckled. “But your quota for dumb-ass has been met. You’re not allowed to be taken advantage of again. We’re basically going to monitor you from now on. I’ll see you once a month, Cielo will talk to you every week, and the security company will monitor your home starting from now. You can go wherever you want, of course, but all your credit cards have been suspended except the one for approved transactions.”

  “I could just get a job, and then I wouldn’t be dependent on my father’s money.”

  “And if you have to work, then we won’t worry about what you’re doing when you’re not,” I explained. “You get it, right?”

  “Yeah, shit. It all makes sense.”

  “I mean, your father knows that he basically put you here by enabling this lifestyle, but now that he sees what you’re doing with your wealth and privilege, he’s gonna make you live how he wants or he’s gonna make you want to have your own life by getting a job. Either choice you make, toe the line or strike out on your own and build from the ground up, he’s happy.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “For now, until I decide what I want to do, I’m going to live here under lock and key.”

  “It’s not like that. You get everything back tomorrow. There are just stipulations now. There are no more big wads of cash going out; there are limits on everything. You have a budget that you’ll have to stick to, and if you go over it, then you have to call your accountant, who is now Cielo, and explain what you need and why.”

  “That black guy that was with you?”

  “Just guy would suffice,” I told him.

  “Shit, I didn’t mean––”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Christ.”

  “It sucks, but you made your bed. Lie in it.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  “Poor little rich boy, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

  His eyes flicked to mine, and I saw the hatred there for a second. “How long was I sleeping?”

  I checked my dive watch. “About nine hours.”

  “Holy shit.” He gasped, eyes wide.

  “I’m thinking you needed the rest.”

  He sighed deeply. “God, I don’t even know what I need.”

  I smiled. “I think you need to take a vacation from your life here and figure out what the hell you want to do with it.”

  The hatred I saw had been replaced by weariness. He looked wrung out. The dark circles under his eyes, how bloodshot they were, his cracked lips, the stubble, all of it spoke of a man who was drained dry.

  “Listen, I am sorry for the all-or-nothing approach that had to be taken here, but you were this close to overdosing on drugs, going to jail, or just turning up dead. You don’t see it, don’t get it, but I swear it’s true.”

  His wounded eyes surveyed me. “You know, you don’t look so great yourself.”

  “I was in a knife fight yesterday. I have an excuse.”

  “No shit.” He perked up a little, probably wishing I had died.

  “No shit.”

  He was silent for a few minutes. “Did my father tell you I was gay?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Javier was supposed to be my boyfriend.”

  “I figured.”

  “You don’t care?”

  “Since I’m gay too, not so much,” I told him.

  His smile came slowly until I saw the first signs of life.

  “I really did have a lot of deadweight in my life, huh?” he offered as a peace offering.

  I arched an eyebrow for him.

  His head fell back, and laughter bubbled up out of him. If he could laugh at himself, at the mess he’d made, he was going to be okay.

  When the mirth had run out of him, after the tears were shed, the heavy sigh exhaled from deep down, he looked over at me.

  “If I get your old man on the phone, will you talk to him?”

  He nodded.

  “You gotta know that this is love and not control.”

  “It feels like control,” he told me.

  We sat there together on his leather couch in the great room surrounded by opulence, and I understood that for all of it, for all the possessions, he had nothing without his family.

  “It’s love,” I assured him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Your father wants to give you everything, and he almost gave you too much.”

  “I just want someone to love.”

  “Join the club,” I told him.

  IV

  I STAYED three days, hired Hayden all new staff as well as a personal assistant and a personal trainer and a live-in maid. He looked different when I left than when I had arrived, and when I got back home to my office, Cielo informed me that the commission on the job put us squarely in the black. He had paid all our bills, the mortgage on the office, all salaries and bonuses, and even had money left over to get new software he’d had his eye on and more gadgets for surveillance. I had another new phone, and so did everyone else. Miguel held it up for me to see while Cielo gushed.

  “Just because technology gives him a hard-on, do we all have to get excited?” Miguel groused.

  I went bac
k to answering e-mails and was still at it when Leith Haas came through the door at quarter to six that evening.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “About what?” I asked, looking up, leaning back in my chair.

  He rushed across the room to stand in front of my desk. “Marcus says that you talked to Eric Donovan a week ago. He followed Simon.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t think I should know that my boyfriend was still being stalked by a psychopath?”

  “No.”

  “No?” he barked.

  “No, I handled it, it’s handled, case closed.”

  He stared at me with dark aqua eyes, deciding, and I held the gaze intently. After several minutes he took a breath.

  “I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to Simon.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” I agreed. “I know what he means to you.”

  He nodded. “Do you know where Eric Donovan is now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You do?” He was startled.

  “Yes, I do. I’m in security and surveillance. I know where everyone is that I keep tabs on.”

  “Oh.”

  I rolled my eyes and got up from my chair and walked to the window that was getting pelted hard with rain. “He moved to Boston.”

  “Boston?”

  “Yes. He’s getting married and going to work for his fiancée’s father. I don’t expect him back.”

  “How can he get married if he’s gay?”

  “You can get married to a man in Massachusetts.”

  “You know what I mean! He’s not marrying a man, is he?”

  “No.”

  “Then?”

  I turned to look. “Why are you asking me? You wanted to know where he is—that’s where he is. Beyond that, I have no idea and I could give a shit.”

  He just shook his head.

  “What are you going to get Simon for Christmas?”

  Several seconds ticked by.

  “What?” he asked finally.

  “It’s coming up, Christmas, I mean. What’s your plan?”

  “Oh.”

  “No idea, huh?”

  “No.”

  I went back to watching the rain.

  “Ryan said you were hurt before you went to LA.”

  “I went to Malibu, but yeah.”

  “And you’re okay now?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, Marcus has some kind of fancy dinner he’s supposed to go to tomorrow, tuxedos and everything, and he wanted to take Joe and go, but if—”

  “That’s fine. I can patrol with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you down by the Federal Building after nine, then.”

  “After nine tomorrow. Got it.”

  He was at the door when he called out, “You’re a good friend, Jacks.”

  At least I was something. “Thanks.”

  When he was gone, I went back to watching the dark-gray day turn into a black, starless night.

  I decided to grab something before I headed for home because I knew there was nothing to eat, my fridge and cupboards were bare, and I didn’t feel like stopping and buying groceries and then cooking. Doing all that prep for one person was just too much. So I ran through the rain and ducked into my favorite delicatessen after work to grab a sandwich. I was headed for the salad bar when I came around the corner and found myself suddenly face to face with Rene Favreau.

  I froze.

  He caught his breath.

  We must have looked really stupid.

  What was the appropriate thing to say?

  Gray eyes locked on my face. “Jackson.”

  I exhaled fast and went to move around him.

  “Wait.”

  I stopped, and he stepped back in front of me. It was only then that I saw the cut lip, black eye, and bruised cheek. “What happened?”

  He cleared his throat. “Frank.”

  I scoffed before I could stifle it. There was no way.

  He took a breath and slipped by me. I was going to go after him, but it hit me that it was truly none of my business. I had no more say in Frank Sullivan’s life, and he had made his position on me being in his very clear the last time we had seen each other. It was strange that just the mention of the man’s name had not put my heart in a vise. Maybe, just maybe, after three months, closer to four, I was finally starting to see my way clear. I hoped so.

  The salad bar was calling, and as I picked what I wanted, I saw a woman eyeing the beets disdainfully. When she looked up, she caught me staring.

  “I don’t eat those,” I told her.

  She bit her bottom lip as she smoothed a hand over her very pregnant stomach. “I’m supposed to be eating light, but all I want is steak all the time.”

  I scowled at her, and she laughed.

  “Just looking at all this salad makes me wanna hurl, but the beets are especially heinous.”

  “I agree”—I grinned at her—“about the beets.”

  “Beets taste like dirt,” she told me.

  “I’m sure the American Beet Growers would disagree.”

  She laughed and then tipped her head, studying my face. “I think I know you.”

  “Nice pickup line.”

  “I’m pregnant. Who am I gonna pick up?”

  “Maybe I’m into that.”

  She rolled her eyes, lifting her hand so I could see the rock on her finger. “There’s this too.”

  “That doesn’t stop some people.”

  “Agreed”—she sighed—“but I’m still in love with the big dumb jerk.”

  Enjoying her phrasing, the banter, and her lovely voice, I let some of the tension drain out of me from seeing Rene.

  “So….” She chuckled, and it had a nice sound, full and deep. “Who do we both know?”

  I shrugged.

  “Do you have kids in elementary school?”

  “No kids.”

  “Not yet,” she clarified.

  “Do I look like I could be some kid’s dad?” I scoffed at her.

  “Yeah”—she nodded—“you’ve got the look.”

  And that was the most astounding thing anyone had ever said to me, that I looked parental. “Do I?”

  “Yes.”

  Her tone, the look in her gorgeous jade-colored eyes, the laugh lines around them, her dimples, her high cheekbones—she was just radiant. “I think maybe you should come home with me anyway, married or not.”

  “That’d be a neat trick. Aren’t all you guys gay?”

  “All of what guys?”

  “All you warders.”

  It was like she hit me—all the air slammed out of my lungs.

  Her smile was huge. “You’re one of Ryan’s friends.”

  “Oh.” I nodded, taking a settling breath, getting my bearings, remembering where I had seen her before—in Ryan Dean’s living room. “You belong to Julian, who now belongs to Ryan.”

  “Yes.” She beamed, walking around the salad bar to reach me. I was surprised. I thought she would stop, but she kept coming, right up to me, lifting up, reaching. “I’m Phoebe Vega, Cash’s wife.”

  I bent so she could bring me down to her with an arm around my neck, plant a kiss on my cheek, give me a quick hug before she pulled back. It was nice. No one ever hugged me anymore, and I missed it like crazy.

  “I—”

  “Jackson.”

  We both turned, and there, no more than three feet from me, was Rene Favreau. Apparently he had not left after all. But why he was standing there looking like he was ready to start bawling was beyond me.

  “What’s with—”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t have time to—”

  “I need you to make time.”

  Shit.

  “You’re the only one I can talk to, and I know it—”

  “Stop,” I ordered him. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  “A
re you okay?” Phoebe asked gently.

  He moved fast up beside her, and because he was acting so weird, I reached for the bright, bubbly woman I had sort of fallen in love with and drew her protectively to my side.

  “Come now,” he ordered, but it sounded more like a plea.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  He looked at Phoebe, looked her up and down, sizing her up, before he turned fast and walked away.

  “What was that about?” She sounded worried.

  “Nothing,” I soothed her, passing her my sandwich. “Eat this instead; you’ll love it. I swear. Get a salad and split it with your husband.”

  She opened her mouth to say something.

  “It’s okay,” I promised, kissing her forehead before I whipped around her and headed for the door.

  Outside, I saw Rene halfway down the street, standing in the rain holding open the door of a cab. I moved quickly along the sidewalk and reached him fast.

  “You first,” he said, his voice flat.

  I slipped into the backseat, and then he was in behind me, barking directions to the driver and falling back with a deep release of breath.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” I said after we had gone several rainy blocks in silence.

  “He’s lost his mind.”

  I crossed my arms and waited.

  He reached out to touch me but stopped himself and let his hand fall back down to his side. “He gets up in the middle of the night, and when I follow him, he’s attacking people and grabbing them, and he used to just scare them, but now he’s attacking them and—”

  “Wait.” I stopped his rambling explanation. “Frank is attacking people on the street? This is what you’re telling me.”

  “Yeah, and the other night when I tried to stop him from going out we actually started fighting and––look at my face.”

  I had already noted the damage earlier.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but yesterday he finally came out and told me that he wants me to hunt demons with him.”

  Fuck.

  “Demons, Jackson,” he breathed out. “Holy shit. He’s lost his mind.”

  In a sense. Hunting demons, for him, was insane. The demons themselves….

  “I told him I wanted him to see someone, and he just started talking to me about warders and demons and hearths and….” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”