The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1)

by Michelle Kay

  Even when her sobbing had eased, and her body had stopped shaking, Elliot's arms had remained steady around her. But once the tears were out of her system, embarrassment moved in to take up the empty space they'd left. She could feel the wet cotton of his shirt under her cheek and sneaked her good hand between them to wipe her nose.

  "So, do you actually know how to set broken bones? Or were you just tugging and making it up?" She sounded congested, and hated to think about the state her face was in. She felt Elliot's shoulders shake a little as a laugh rumbled against her cheek.

  "We can't both be the type to just make stuff up as we go. I learned it during my Evaluator's training."

  She thought she should feel offended, but if anyone deserved the right to call a spade a spade, it was him—even if it did still annoy her.

  "I'm hungry," she said instead of getting angry.

  Elliot seemed to recognize her lax response, and she felt a puff of air form his nose that she thought might have been a more private laugh, then his arms began to loosen. Despite his teasing—which somehow still felt gentle—he pointedly averted his eyes as he released her, giving her the privacy to wipe her eyes and nose on her already dirty sleeve.

  "Alright." He pulled the blankets that had been kicked away during their struggle back over her legs. "You rest while I make something."

  Clover mumbled an answer as she settled obediently into the bed again. Now that she'd said it out loud, she realized that she was starving. As she tried to remember what the last thing she'd eaten was, she nestled deeper into the blankets, wondering why she'd let Elliot sleep in such a luxurious bed while she took a pile of blankets on the floor. It would be harder to kick him out of his own bed now that he’d saved her though. Turning into the pillow, she thought she’d have to figure something out.

  Crying had made her heart feel lighter, but her body felt heavier, and, despite her hunger, she was asleep again before Elliot got back.

  It was hard for Clover to guess how much time she spent slipping in and out of sleep, but every time she woke up, Elliot was there. If she was hungry, he fed her. If she was thirsty, he all but held the glass to her mouth for her. He wanted her to bathe, but the idea of standing in the shower, or keeping her head above water in the tub seemed too difficult. Instead, she agreed to change into clean clothes. He gave her long pants, and a long sleeved shirt that was lined with something fuzzy and warm. They were too big, but she didn't care. The extra folds of fabric made them feel like blankets, and the smell of them was comforting. After the struggle of changing clothes, she realized that Elliot had changed the sheets which had been sullied with dirt and blood, and probably more body odor than she wanted to admit.

  Every time she surfaced from her uneasy sleep, the light coming in through the window was a little dimmer, until she finally woke up to near darkness. The only light in the room came from a laptop at the foot of the bed where Elliot had stationed himself. She didn't make a noise, not wanting him to start fussing over her again, and tried to blink the film of sleep from her eyes. She wondered where he'd gotten the laptop from. Had his father given him a replacement while she'd been in Rainer's custody?

  It was painful to think of Elliot doing mundane things while she was being starved and tortured in the same building. But having a laptop again would be useful, no matter how he'd gotten it. She remembered Elliot's snippy comment about his computer the day they'd gone into the Bureau to access the data. He'd said something about being able to access it from home "if someone hadn't pawned his laptop."

  She regretted giving the last one to Fisher. If she'd kept it, they could have stayed home that day. She would never have been caught. She would never have experienced the horrible torture that Rainer laughably referred to as an "interrogation." Then again, if she'd stayed home, she would have never found Josh.

  "Josh." Clover didn't realize she'd said his name out loud until Elliot looked at her.

  "What? You alright?" He sounded tired.

  "My pack-mate," Clover said as she pushed herself to her elbow. Her body was still stiff, but the pain had begun to ease in her hand, and the bandage on her ear had softened the burning. "He's in the holding cells attached to your department. You can't kill him."

  She must not have looked well, still, because Elliot only shushed her again, gently pressing on her shoulder until she laid back down. It frustrated her that he wasn't listening, but the draw of the pillow was powerful. She was still exhausted.

  "We can talk about it tomorrow. You need to sleep."

  "You have to help him, okay?"

  "Okay. Now go to sleep." He brushed her forehead, and as though he were casting a spell over her, she drifted off before the touch of his fingers disappeared.

  When she woke up again it was morning, and Elliot was gone. On her bedside table was a note, written in the same handwriting she’d seen in the files she’d burned, telling her to rest while he was at work. Beside the note were wrapped sandwiches and more bottles of water than she could have stomached in a week.

  A smile crept onto her face before she'd realized it. Had he always been so softhearted? Startled by the warm feeling that was creeping through her chest, she scrubbed the smile from her face with her fist. She was grateful. There wasn't any reason for her to confuse it with anything else.

  Finally convinced that she needed to bathe when she lifted the covers and got a good whiff of herself, she shuffled into the bathroom—the sleep she’d gotten had done wonders for her body’s ability to do what she told it. As the water in the shower heated, she surveyed herself while she undressed. She still looked bad, which meant she must have looked like death the night before. Her hair was tangled and more beastly than ever; her normally warm skin was an ashen, making the dark, puffy bags under her eyes stand. The only thing that looked clean on her was the white bandage Elliot had used to dress her ear.

  She hadn't seen the injury yet, and she still wasn't interested in having a look. Instead, she retreated to the bath, the pathetic state of her body making her pride ache. As she cleaned herself, though, she realized there was no amount of scrubbing that would get rid of the grime they'd left inside her head. Even miles away from the Bureau, she still felt like they were an immediate threat. Like Rainer was an immediate threat. He was always just past the periphery of her vision, ready to snip away another part of her body.

  Past the horror he'd planted inside her, ran a river of guilt. She'd gambled with the lives of her pack members, and for what? For the emotional comfort of her coworkers? For Elliot's safety? Not that she thought he'd really be in danger if she'd given him away. But she couldn't deny any more that she believed he could change things for the better. To do that, though, he'd have to usurp the throne of the Bureau from his brother, and even if Elliot was the intended sibling, she doubted his chance.

  But it wasn't just her pack she'd thrown to the wind. She clasped her hands together, trying to remember the feeling of Josh's hands wrapped around them. He'd been looking for her when he'd been captured. It wasn't the first time the men of the pack had gone out looking for a lost member. If someone went missing and no one saw the actual apprehension, it was customary to perform at least one good sweep of the city. She wondered if anyone else had been taken.

  He would have told me if there was someone else.

  The fog that still covered most of the previous night lifted, then, and Clover remembered that she'd tried to tell Elliot about Josh, but that he'd brushed her off. He'd said they'd talk in the morning. He didn't know, and with her successful escape, she could easily imagine Rainer taking his frustration out on Josh, just to leave one more wound in her.

  Instantly, she was out of the tub, barely taking the time to pull a towel around herself. She was punching Elliot's extension into the phone when her mind caught up with her again. If Rainer suspects his brother of something, the first thing he'd do is tap his phone. She hung up before it even started ringing. She'd have to wait until he was home.

  Unsure o
f what else to do, she wandered back into the bathroom, but the dingy water seemed less appealing. After redressing in the clothes she pulled from Elliot’s dresser, she got back in bed. Her mind raced, but her stay in the cell seemed to have cured her of the urge to pace. Instead, she occupied herself with the sandwiches, then she napped.

  The rest of the day passed in cycles of sleeping, nightmares, and eating. When the sound of the door woke her up in the afternoon, her mind finally felt like it had been pieced back together enough to function. She was out of bed and at the top of the stairs before Elliot had even made it to the second floor.

  "My pack-mate." She said it like there hadn't been hours between that moment and their conversation under the light of Elliot's laptop.

  Elliot looked shocked, at first. Probably because she seemed so spry after the day and a half she'd spent unable to do much more than sleep. “I know. Josh Lowell, right?" He moved past her as she nodded. "You had mentioned him last night. I looked into it this morning and found him. Luckily he was the only ‘Josh’ we had." He tossed his bag onto the bed in a manner that seemed more careless than she might have expected from him a week ago. Then he sat down and kicked off his shoes.

  "Is he okay?" She'd been trailing behind him, walking on the ends of the too-long pajama pants she wore. "Did Rainer come and take him?"

  "No. He's still in our holding cells. He wasn't one of my cases, but I talked my coworker in to letting me take it over. You want me to send him to a finishing school, right? So we can get him out later?"

  "Yeah." She'd not meant the awe she felt to come out in her voice, but it had. She wondered how he'd managed to guess her plan so easily. Then again, there weren't many other options for getting Josh out of custody. It wasn't like they could just sneak him out. "You can, right?”

  Elliot sighed as he undid his uniform jacket and tossed it to the other side of the bed. She realized he looked tired—really tired. He had circles under his eyes that rivaled her own, and he carried himself like his body weighed more than it should. She wondered if he'd slept at all the night before.

  "I don't know, Clover. I'll do what I can, but he's a really hard placement."

  Initially, Clover wanted to shout. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he agreed to do what she wanted, no matter what. She didn't want "maybes." She wanted something more concrete. Then she remembered the way he'd tended to her the day before. She remembered that he was part of the reason she'd chosen to endure Rainer's twisted punishment. If she believed that he could help Jeannette and Isaac, she needed to start believing that he could help her too. She needed to believe in him even when things weren't going her way.

  "You'll do everything you can, though. Right?" Clover thought that Elliot recognized the gentleness of her tone, because he looked shocked, and maybe a little suspicious.

  He didn't question the out-of-character show of trust, but smiled a soft reassurance for her. "Yeah." Then looked her up and down, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Stealing my things again?”

  Clover knew she probably looked stupid wearing the sweat pants whose ends she walked on and the long sleeved shirt that engulfed both her hands, but they were comfortable and clean.

  “Well I thought we were partners at this point. What’s yours is mine, right?”

  “Did I have a choice in this deal?”

  “You made your choice when you paid my bail.” She thought she should be thanking him instead of teasing him, but he smiled nevertheless, then his hand pushed a now-clean curl away from her face.

  “You took a shower?”

  "Bath," she corrected.

  “You do know how the shower works in there, don’t you?”

  “You’re telling me that if you lived for seventeen years showering in truck stops and bathing in sinks that you’d pass up a hot bath?”

  “Fair.” He chuckled, then his face softened. “How’s your hand?”

  "Sore still." She presented it to him for inspection and couldn't stop from pursing her lips a little against the nice feeling of his fingers cradling hers.

  He turned her hand back and forth, then insisted on checking her ear after he put his things away. As they moved back into the bedroom, Clover realized how tired he looked. He rolled his neck as he undid his uniform jacket, then tossed it onto the bed before sitting on its edge to remove his shoes. He looked really tired. She could see circles under his eyes that were almost as bad as her own, and he carried himself like his body weighed more than it should. She wondered if he’d slept at all the night before.

  Once his shoes were off, Clover took her spot beside him, obediently holding her hair away from the bandaging so Elliot could inspect it properly. When had she become so tame? What really shocked her was that she didn’t even mind. She liked it when he was gentle with her, and it made her want to return the favor. She didn’t understand it. But more than that, she didn’t understand why Elliot was being so kind to her in the first place. She’d done nothing but hurt him and cause him trouble, at yet, the softness of his fingers against her cheek didn’t feel forced. They felt like he really did care.

  "Hey, Elliot?" For a second she thought she was going to apologize to him, maybe even tell him the truth about the antidote. Instead, as he hummed to show her he was listening, another feeling bubbled up in her. “Thank you.” She knew she’d failed to keep the reverence from her voice when his hands paused. "For a while, I really thought that you were going to leave me in there. You didn't have to get me out. But you did. Really, thank you."

  Elliot was silent for a while, his hands continuing their business.

  "You shouldn't have to thank me, Clover. I'm sorry it happened at all. I should have kept a closer eye on you. And I don't think Dom would have been interested in you at all if we weren't in the middle of this stupid feud over my father's position."

  "How'd you get me out, anyway?" She wasn’t sure why she’d not asked sooner.

  "I paid your bail." Elliot said, as though it was the obvious answer. "It was kind of steep, but not unmanageable. Now you only have to show up again for your hearing."

  Clover couldn't help but laugh. Of course Elliot had gotten her out with paperwork and cash. The idea of him making back alley deals or doing nefarious favors might have been more exciting options, but they didn’t match his personality.

  "It was probably the last thing my brother was expecting."

  Clover’s expectations had been off base as well. Not her expectations of Elliot, but of Rainer. She felt stupid now for thinking she could fool him.

  "He knows." She could tell by the way Elliot stopped to look her that she didn't need to explain any more, but her nerves forced her to anyway. "That I never went through the system. He said he recognized me from that time he chased me, but that he can't prove it to anyone."

  Elliot's expression darkened, and he hooked a finger into the neck of his undershirt, like he needed more air.

  "I don't think he's actually figured us out, though. He seems to think that you're the one who's up to something. That I'm just a pawn."

  Elliot let out an ironic laugh, and Clover couldn't help but press her lips together in a joke of a smile. It was a bit funny, in a sad sort of way—Elliot, the victim, being confused for the villain.

  "He's always been the paranoid type," Elliot said. "I guess we can let him think whatever he wants for now."

  "He asked if you were searching for an… Argentum project? Any idea what he's talking about?"

  Elliot frowned and shook his head, then seemed to disconnect for a second, as though he were turning through files in his head. The files. Suddenly, her body was quivering. She vaguely remembered asking him about it the night before, but he’d not wanted to tell her. Had he not found anything? Or maybe the news was just so horrible that he was afraid to tell her.

  "The data." Her voice was much quieter than she'd expected, but even that much volume was surprisingly difficult. She met eyes expectantly with his as he looked at her, then felt her hands ball
into fists as a look somewhere between guilt and apprehension passed over his features. "What did you find out?"

  "Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck like he was nervous, though Clover thought he was just using the gesture as an excuse to have his hand poised to block her if she tried to hit him. "What do you want first? The good news, the bad news, or the really weird—but also probably bad—news?"

  - 25 -

  The sitting room downstairs was dark, and Clover thought that maybe she should light a fire in the neglected hearth. The idea had only enough time to surface and gasp, though, before being lost again. She could hear Elliot upstairs. She heard the sink in the bathroom and the slide of dresser drawers. It was frustrating to know that he was going through his normal evening while she was trying to piece her life back together, but she also appreciated the time he was giving her to be alone.

  She hadn't been surprised when Elliot had offered her the good news first. Her uninjured fist had been balled so tight that her knuckles still ached, and she could only imagine what her still-worn face had looked like on the verge of combustion. She couldn't blame him for wanting to ease her rising temper, but in retrospect, she wished he'd started with the bad news and had worked in reverse.

  She tried to tell herself to be happy for what she did have, because the "good news" really was very good. Elliot had found her brother, Reed. It was impossible to remember the last time she'd felt such undiluted joy. The news had become even better when Elliot had told her that the school he'd been sent to was close by—they could get to it by train.

  Clover realized then how lucky they were that that Reed had been taken when he had. He was eight, but by the time boys turned ten, their chances of being sent to a finishing school were cut in half, according to Elliot. By thirteen, the chances were nearly zero. She'd wanted to hug Elliot in that moment, but despite the high of endorphins, the promise of bad news had rested heavily between them. The weight of that promise had kept her body pinioned to the bed.