by Wasp, A. E.
His laughter caught me by surprise. “Which ones? I bet she’s had a lot to choose from.”
I shook my head and chuckled. “Pretty much all of them,” I admitted. “Starting with my decision to enlist and ending with my announcement that I was never going to bring home a nice girl for her meet.”
He rubbed his hand across his stubbled cheek. When he wasn’t glaring at me like he wanted to arrest me, I could appreciate that Agent Shook was a fine-looking man. I appreciated a little stubble burn on my thighs after an encounter. He sighed. “Yeah, my parents weren’t the biggest fans of those two choices either.”
“You were in the service?”
Shading his eyes with his hands, he stared out at the water. “I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”
That was a yes. But no way was I going to push the subject. A man was entitled to his secrets, and obviously each of us here had at least one. “I bet we can scrounge some up. Chuck probably had one of those fancy-ass cappuccino machines.”
“He wasn’t old,” Shook said as we walked past the pool to the shaded patio outside the kitchen.
“Who?”
“Charlie. He was younger than me. Still can’t believe he’s dead.”
“Neither can I,” Josie said as we got closer. “So sad.” She’d forgone the maid’s outfit today, opting for some lightweight capris and some kind of girly looking shirt. She looked younger in the casual clothes.
“Wow, Miss Josie, that looks amazing.” She’d set up quite the breakfast spread on the big table on the shaded outdoor space. There were big bowls of cut fruit on the table and a full place setting at each chair. A toaster and a selection of bread and spreads sat on a long side table. Either she’d gotten here before the crack of dawn, or she slept here.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Josie,” Shook said even as he reached for a coffee mug and a metal carafe.
Josie spread her hands and shrugged. “What else am I going to do with my time, for goodness sake? Knit? Watch TV? I like to feed people.”
I really wondered about the woman. What exactly was her job here, and who was paying her? Did she live on the property? Maybe in that small apartment over the pool house?
“Is anyone else awake?” Shook asked.
“Not that I saw, Agent Shook.” She sat down in one of the chairs and poured herself a glass of orange juice from a glass pitcher that sat nestled in a bowl of ice cubes.
Shook poured a teaspoon of sugar and a healthy dose of heavy cream into his coffee and smiled. “Please, call me Leo.” He lifted his cup to me. “Goes for you, too, Steele.”
“I’m honored.”
He quirked his lip and took a sip of the coffee, sighing in pleasure as the hot caffeine hit his system.
“I would have pegged you as a man who took his coffee black,” I said, picking a slice of orange off the top of the fruit bowl.
“I put in my time with sludge. Still drink it at the office. I’m going to enjoy myself when I can.”
“You’re a wild man, Shook.”
I went to take a seat at the table next to Josie when I realized how much I must smell. It wouldn’t be fair to expose other people to that while they were trying to eat.
“Miss Josie, I’m gonna take a shower and then round up the troops and bring them down. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes. Is that okay, ma’am?”
“That’s perfect, Steele, honey. And please call me Josie.”
I shook my head sorrowfully. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. My mama would fly down from Georgia and beat my low-class ass if I tried.”
She laughed. “Fair enough.”
“I’m going to hit the showers, as well,” Leo said. “See you both back in a few minutes. I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”
I agreed. I couldn’t say I was totally looking forward to it, either.
I strolled in through the sliding door to Charlie’s massive eat-in kitchen, which came with a corner breakfast nook large enough to seat at least eight people on the two couches. A fifteen-foot long island with a sink, oven, range and breakfast bar took up the middle of the room. Endless cabinets, and a sink large enough to bathe a Great Dane in, lined one wall. A wide doorway on the other side led to the living areas.
The large living room where we’d met with Miranda yesterday had a cathedral ceiling two stories high, and a two-hundred and seventy-degree view of the beach. Natural light flooded in through the floor-to-ceiling windows which opened onto the patio, just a few feet down from where Josie had laid out breakfast.
The second floor held six bedrooms – like anyone in their right mind would ever need that many – each with its own attached bath. When Miranda had told us we were all going to be staying at the house, which Wesley had immediately dubbed the Bat Cave, we’d each picked one of the rooms. We could have spread out amongst the buildings, but by unspoken understanding, we’d stuck together. Miranda might see this as a sign of our growing bond, but it was more like we didn’t trust each other enough to let anyone out of our sight.
My first stop was Wesley’s room. If I knew him, and I was realizing I really did not, he was still awake. The kid was mostly nocturnal.
Sure enough, he was awake and sitting at the broad desk that was the main reason he’d picked that room. For a guy who’d been bitching about being separated from his beloved tech, he’d sure managed to fill the desk with whatever he’d brought with him. He was wearing the geekiest headset I’d ever seen and snapping orders into the microphone that hovered near his mouth.
On the biggest laptop screen I’d ever seen, what looked like a hundred figures surrounded a giant snake-like monster, and it seemed like they were doing their best to kill it. I had no idea if they were succeeding.
“Shit, shit!” Wesley cursed. “Rad, get the fuck out of the AOE! Stay in range of the healer and everyone stack for buffs. Damn it!”
I waited until he threw his controller down in disgust.
“Bad game?”
“Bad group. Good game.” He swiveled his chair to face me. “What’s up?”
“Besides the sun?” I asked with a grin.
He swiveled back to the window where bright light seeped in around the edges of the curtain. “Huh. Look at that.”
“Come downstairs, Josie made breakfast. I’m going to take a quick shower, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Sounds excellent. I could use some more coffee.” He leaned back in the chair, yawned, and stretched his arms over his head.
“I doubt that.”
I headed for my next stop.
Carson had chosen a medium-sized room that looked like it could’ve been in any mid-priced hotel in the country, which was probably why he had chosen it. I knocked on the door and got no answer, though I could hear voices inside. I waited a few seconds, then knocked again.
“Hold on.” Carson sounded irritated. I heard him muttering as he unlocked the door and opened it a crack.
“Nice outfit,” I said. Carson was half-dressed, and when I say half-dressed, I mean from the waist up, he was dressed as some kind of chef, his white jacket stitched with initials that weren’t his. From the waist down, all he wore was a pair of boxer shorts with flamingos on them.
“Chef?” a voice called from the tinny speakers in the laptop perched on the dresser. “You there?”
I wasn’t even going to ask.
“Be right back,” Carson yelled over his shoulder in a distinctly non-British accent. He turned back to me. “What do you want? What time is it?”
“Breakfast time.”
“I don’t eat breakfast.” His accent was back to that bored British one he’d used yesterday. He tried to shut the door on me, but I held it open with one hand.
“Miss Josie went to the trouble of making us a lovely meal, and we are all going to sit around the table and eat it. And then we can talk about the job.” I was pretty sure the one bond that held us all together was the desire to get this over with. “The sooner we get this shi
t done, the sooner we’re all free to get on with our lives. So finish FaceTiming your boyfriend or lawyer or whatever you’re doing, and meet us out on the patio.”
“Bloody hell.” He sagged against the doorframe and started to run a hand through his hair before remembering he was trying to look respectable. “Is there coffee?”
“There is.”
He rubbed his eyes and looked back at his laptop. “Time zones,” he said in a vague explanation. “I’ll be down soon as I can.”
“I’ll be waiting in breathless anticipation.”
He snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Fifteen minutes.”
He shut the door.
I took a shower before going to check on Ridge. We’d gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday, and it was probably my fault. Hard as it was to believe, not everyone responded positively to my charm. Ridge was prickly and defensive, and I knew there had to be a story there. Plus, I still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced that this twin brother existed. I’d believe it when I saw them both in the same room.
Though if I ever did, I couldn’t be blamed for my impure thoughts.
Knocking gently on Ridge’s door got no response, so I knocked harder. Still nothing.
“Ridge?” Nothing.
“Angel-Face? You alive in there?” Still nothing.
It was early, maybe I should let him sleep? No. We needed to get started figuring out what Charlie wanted us to do, and how to do it.
Fucker could have given us directions or something like your mission, should you choose to accept it… But no, just some dirty pictures. If he weren’t already dead, I’d strangle him. And I’d noticed how Miranda had snuck out before we opened the envelope, so we couldn’t question her either. We’d have to work together.
Kumbaya.
I tried the handle, surprised to feel it turn under my hand. Huh. Guess Ridge wasn’t too worried about anyone sneaking in.
The room was as cold as the inside of refrigerator. In the dim light seeping through the heavily-curtained west-facing windows, I could make out the bed. I assumed the slight lump in the pile of blankets was Ridge’s sleeping form.
“Ridge?” I called quietly from the doorway. I’d known too many people who came awake armed and looking for a fight for me to get too close to the bed. But nothing. He didn’t even budge; his soft breaths the only sign he was actually alive.
“Ridge,” I said a little louder. “Hey, Angel-Face. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.”
He mumbled into the pillow and flopped over, pulling the blanket completely over his head. It was unexpectedly adorable.
I really had to win him over. I loved a person who saw right through me and called me on my bullshit. That was the fastest way to win my heart. Well, to win my friendship, anyway. I liked my lovers a little more beguiled.
I had the horrible feeling that in order to change his mind about me, I was going to have to be real with him and tone down my flirtatious tom-fuckery. I walked up to the bed and squatted down before I shook his shoulder. No one liked some big guy hovering over them threateningly when they woke up. “Hey, Ridge, man.” His skin felt soft. Nice.
“Go away, Alvarez,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
“Aw, is that any way to greet a friend?” At least he hadn’t clocked me. I waited for a long second before realizing he’d fallen back to sleep. Damn, that was dedication. I tickled his ear gently with one finger. “Come on, Pfeiffer. We’re burning daylight.”
“Fuck off.” He pulled the cover completely over his head, and I laughed.
“Come on, Grumpy Pants. Miss Josie made food special for us. She’s dying to feed us. You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”
He sighed deeply as if disappointed in the entire population of people who woke up before noon. “Fine.” He flopped the cover off his face with what I felt were unnecessary dramatics. “Is there coffee?”
“You know it. And bacon.”
“Damn the woman. She knows my weaknesses.” He blinked his blue eyes at me. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be down.”
I stood up. “Great. And Ridge?”
“Hmm?”
“Miranda gave this one to me, but clearly it’s going to involve you, too. We’ve really gotta talk about it.”
He looked me in the eye and nodded. “Yeah. I know. After coffee. What time is it anyway?”
“’Bout seven-thirty.”
“In the morning?” He sounded genuinely horrified. “Fuck my life,” he said when I laughed.
“Five minutes, Pfeiffer. Wear something sexy.” Okay, so the real me was kind of obnoxious, too.
“Go away. Pour me coffee.” He sat up fully and stretched. I could tell he was completely nude.
“You know, what you’re wearing now is fine. Just come like that. No one will mind.”
I ducked the pillow he threw at me and left.
* * *
As promised, Carson had joined a freshly-showered Shook on the deck by the time I made it back down. He’d changed into white linen trousers with a sky-blue guayabera shirt. Like me, Shook had gone for the classic cargo shorts and T-shirt look.
“What do you wear under those?” I asked Carson. “Every time I try to wear linen, I end up showing off my underwear. Or if I go commando, you can see my package and even the fucking hairs on my ass.”
“And no one wants to see that, Steele.” Leo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee.
“Speak for yourself, plenty of people want to see this ass.” I slapped it and sat down.
“Here you go,” Josie said, setting what looked like an egg-white omelet with spinach and cheese in front of Leo.
“You don’t have to do that, Josie. I can get my own food.”
She waved Leo away and put the plate she held in her other hand in front of Carson. “Here you go, just like Mother used to make.” The large plate was filled with a small buffet’s worth of food, including eggs, weird bacon, baked beans, and something that looked like a cross between a hockey puck and a sausage.
“Thank you, Josie,” Carson said, looking startled at his unexpected bounty. “It looks delicious.”
“Yes,” Leo said through a mouthful of food. “Thank you. Everything is delicious.”
“I know,” she said.
I leaned closer to Carson’s plate, aiming my fork at a suspicious-looking red blob. “Is that a tomato?”
Carson slapped my fork away. “Eat your own food, Alvarez.”
“I don’t have any food,” I pointed out.
Ridge came out through the door from the living room. He wore a polo shirt and slim-fit madras shorts with sandals. He looked like a model, like every white boy at every country club and golf course I’d ever seen.
“Have a seat, honey,” Josie said, patting him on the shoulder. “I got some food special for you.”
Wesley reached for the coffee carafe, but Josie yanked it out of his reach. “None for you, young man. I’ve got some chamomile tea with your name on it. Did you sleep at all last night?”
Wes opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “I’ll sleep at some point, I promise,” he wheedled.
“Mmm-hmm.” She swept dramatically off the deck and back into the kitchen.
“Morning,” Ridge said.
That seemed to be all there was to say. Leo and Carson ate. Wesley played with his phone, and Ridge and I poured ourselves some orange juice. I could hear Josie banging around in the kitchen, singing along to country music playing on the radio.
Take about three zeros off the price of the house, swap the Gulf for the Okefenokee Swamp, and I could be at home.
Josie came out with two more plates. Pancakes and bacon for Ridge, and a whole pile of food for Wesley.
“Josie, that’s more food than I eat in a day.” Wesley held up a piece of bacon and stared at it like he’d never seen one before.
“I know. I’m going to fatten you up if it’s the last thing I do.”
“What about me?” I asked. “Aren’t you goi
ng to fatten me up?” I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I was hungry. I had no problem going into the kitchen and making my own breakfast.
“I got something special for you.” She went back into the kitchen came out with two bowls of egg and chili-soaked deliciousness.
“Chilaquiles! My favorite.”
“I know,” she said. “One for me, one for you.” She pulled up a chair, squeezing herself between Wesley and Ridge. I got the feeling she’d picked that spot deliberately, to make sure they both ate every bite on their plates.
I dug through the bowl with my fingers, pulling out the crispiest piece of tortilla I could find. Making sure the chip was fully loaded with eggs, cheese, and salsa, I popped it in my mouth. I groaned happily. “Delicious.”
She laughed. “Just like your mama used to make?”
“No. My mama left home when she was sixteen and left her family and her heritage behind. By blood, I’m Cuban. By raisin,’ I’m as Southern as biscuits and gravy. I can barely speak Spanish.”
She shook her head. “That’s a damn shame.”
The silence stretched awkwardly. The scrape of a fork against the plate and the caw of seabirds were the loudest sounds. The breeze from the water blew a napkin onto the floor.
“I’ll get it,” Josie said. After chasing the napkin across the deck, she went into the kitchen. When she came back, she was carrying two cold bottles of champagne. They hit the tiled table top with a clink.
“Give me your cups, glasses, whatever,” she said to everyone.
Carson, Wesley, and I dutifully handed over our small juice glasses.
“None for me, thank you.” Leo said.
Josie glared at him, eyes like steel. “We have shit to do, and I’m not going to sit here and watch you guys not talking to each other all day. So we’re going to have some nice mimosas to break the ice, and then I’ll leave you guys to talk about what you do. Remember the faster you do these things, the faster you can leave and never speak to each other.” She paused meaningfully. “If that’s what you want.”
Leo handed her his glass.
“Who are you?” Wesley asked her, sounding impressed.