by Lexi Blake
Did she have any right to ask him to give it all up?
“I worry those men who came out here a few days ago will want to arrest Henry. But I’m equally worried that they came here to ask him to come back.”
“That’s a definite possibility if he’s as good as I heard he was,” Michael replied. “But I don’t think he’ll go. I think he’s made his choice. Like Jessie made hers.”
Nell hated the hollowness in his voice. “She was desperate. She needed money.”
“There are other ways, Nell. So many other ways. No. She tricked me. She used me.” He turned back to the river. “And that’s how we’re different. As far as I can tell Henry’s only real crime is not talking about his past.”
“And killing a whole bunch of people.” How quickly everyone forgot. “And not telling me he killed a bunch of people. I think if he’s going to go around murdering people he should at least check in with his wife.”
“Fair,” Michael agreed. “You’re right about that. No secrets. That’s the only way to maintain a relationship. Everything has to be aboveboard.”
“So you’re thinking about a relationship?” It would be so much nicer to talk about Michael’s potential future than to sit here and worry that Henry wasn’t coming home at all.
He hesitated. “No. No, I’m not…I don’t know.”
“Is it Lucy?” She’d seen the way his eyes always followed the petite brunette. They’d had dinner at Trio a few days before, and Michael had been on his best behavior. He was often gruff, but he’d been quiet and kind to Lucy.
He frowned her way. “I am not giving you grist for the gossip mill. I know how small towns run.”
“I am not a gossip. Mostly,” she amended. “If you need to talk and you don’t want anyone to know, I am a locked vault.”
She’d been the keeper of many a secret.
“I kind of believe you. You’re an odd duck, Nell Flanders.”
“Hah, and there’s another one of Henry’s crimes. He could have picked any name. Literally any name in the vast sea of names and he picks one that makes me sound like I’m eight hundred years old. I’m not joking. I tell people online my name is Nell Flanders and they expect to meet their grandma.” She’d thought about it a lot. She’d started taking an anger inventory, and that one had shown up after the guns in the shop but before lying about how he knew where to plant a bomb in a fictional building so it exploded properly. “He could have picked something noble sounding. Like Windsor.”
“Then I would think you were an old British person,” Michael shot back.
“How about something pretty like DuVernay? He could have been Henry DuVernay.”
Michael’s head shook. “Old French person. Let’s face facts—the last name is not the only problem here. Nell is an old-lady name.”
“Rude. It’s a family name, according to my mother.” Of course her mother had told her the family member she’d been named after had been a Fae princess, so there was that. “It’s only old because people stopped using it. One day all old ladies will be named Britney or Ashley. I’m only saying, he could have picked a better name. And you can’t hole yourself up on the mountain forever.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because at some point in time you’re going to get used to regular showers again.” She’d noticed he’d taken one every day since he’d gotten here, and he seemed to luxuriate in them. She hadn’t even complained about his water usage.
“Yeah, I do not miss my facilities. Or rather lack of facilities.” He was quiet for a moment. “I think it’s better I stay up on the mountain. There’s a lot of temptation in town. Well, only one, really, and she’s too young for me.”
Lucy worked at Trio, but Nell had known her for years. Her family lived outside of town, and there had always been trouble around her father. The Carsons were a large family, and Nell had taken food and clothes to them more than once. Lucy had gotten out, but she still worried about her siblings. “She’s an adult. She’s twenty-six years old. She’s not exactly a baby. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“That’s not bad at all. Henry’s ten years older than me.” She’d been so young and naïve when she’d met him. She’d thought she could change him. Had it all been an act or had she actually transformed the man?
“I’m not talking about numerical age. I’m talking about experience.”
That had her spine straightening. “You want a more experienced woman? That seems rude. You know a woman is more than the sum of her experience in bed.”
“Hey, don’t protest me,” Michael complained. “I wasn’t talking about sexual experience. I was talking about getting the shit kicked out of you and being damaged. Lucy is sweet. She doesn’t deserve to have to deal with a moody bastard who isn’t sure he can ever trust a woman again. I don’t know what I can offer her.”
“It’s not the Dark Ages,” Nell pointed out. “Women don’t tend to go into a marriage with the thought that all they’ll bring into the relationship is childbirth and housekeeping. Maybe she can offer you something. Like indoor plumbing.”
Michael ignored her completely. “Then there’s the kid who’s always around her. The walking venereal disease. He actually came out to my place and tried to warn me off her. Said she’s his. You want to protest someone, protest that asshole. Acted like he owned her.”
“Are you talking about Tyler Davis?” He was from Creede. He’d grown up with Lucy and River, and he often could be found around the women. He worked as an EMT and a nature guide with River’s company.
“Yeah. He marched right up to my place and told me to stay away. Like I was going to do something. I just think she’s nice.” He settled back.
That was such a lie, but she wasn’t going to call him on it. It wasn’t like she hadn’t taken to lying to herself.
She was worried about Henry, and not merely that he was going to get the itch to work with the CIA again.
She was worried that he might die and she would never know, that someone in the shadowy agency would decide she didn’t need to know what happened to her husband. She would wonder where he was for the rest of her life.
“Nell? Are you all right?”
Michael’s question brought her out of her dark thoughts.
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
He sighed. “Even I know fine doesn’t mean fine. He’ll call. He’s probably having dinner or something. He’ll call before he goes to bed. It’s going to be okay.”
She sat back and prayed that he was right.
* * * *
Meanwhile in Mexico
The moonlight illuminated the field of bodies he’d left behind.
He was so not okay.
His wife would want to know how the mission went, and he would have to tell her that he’d fucked up the plan where he simply told the actor about his friend and then stepped away.
Josh Hunt hadn’t taken the bait. He’d gone through with the mission, and it had all gone to hell.
He’d taken care of it, and everyone who should have lived had, and most of the bad people died, but the agency definitely knew he was alive now since he’d taken some shots at the one who’d gotten away.
“Yes, Ezra’s at the hospital and Shane called Tag. He’s going to want to move fast, so be ready. Tag and Ten will be here in the morning.”
Henry moved back into the bushes as Kayla Summers walked out of the big house that he’d managed to turn into a morgue. He hadn’t talked to her much after he’d burst through the window and saved the day. He’d snuck off and taken some data he’d needed. He would go through it all later, but he couldn’t risk Kay taking it in.
She had a phone to her ear. Josh Hunt walked behind her.
That man was going to have miles of anxiety to use for his next movie role. He’d nearly died, but he’d been solid in a fight.
Kay looked good. She was as deadly as ever, but despite the horrors of the night, there was a joy about her. Likely because s
he was alive and in love. She glowed with love for that man and he for her. She had her happily ever after.
It might have cost him his.
“Yeah, we’ll be back at the set by morning. See you soon.” Kayla hung up the phone. “I made sure all the security camera footage was erased, but we need to move out. I don’t want us to get caught here. If anyone asks, we came to the party but you had to get back to the set for an early call.”
“Hey, baby, don’t worry about it. I know how to sell a scene,” Hunt said. “I wish Bishop hadn’t taken off. I’d liked to have talked to him, offered him a ride out.”
“Yes, me, too. I had a couple of questions for him, but I assure you he hasn’t taken off yet.” She dropped Hunt’s hand and put her hands on her hips. “John, I know you’re still here somewhere. If I had time, I would show you how good I’ve gotten at finding people. We will have this conversation at some point.”
He felt his lips quirk up. She remembered his moves. He stayed silent because they couldn’t talk here, and he wasn’t ready yet.
Like Nell wasn’t ready.
“I want to meet your wife,” she yelled.
Nell would be fascinated by Kay. Nell would want to be her friend, and she would listen to all of Kay’s crazy stories.
God, he missed his wife. He missed his life, but deep down he’d missed this too. Not the killing, but the puzzle of it all. That was what he missed. He’d gotten the data he needed. With the Jalisco cartel in ruins, he’d likely bought himself more time with at least one of the groups of people who wanted him dead.
“And thank you, John.” Kay took her boyfriend’s hand again and they walked away.
He took a deep breath and started to make his way to the car he’d hidden. He needed to get back to Mexico City before dawn. The police would view this entire clusterfuck as cartel related, and no one would think to look for Henry Flanders.
It was time to go home. But first, he had some old friends to see. They were still in trouble, and he might have something to give them.
Maybe a big group of mind-erased men would soften Nell up.
He pulled his cell and realized how late it was. He didn’t want to wake her. He sighed and started the long march back home.
He hoped he was welcome.
Chapter Eight
“Hey, you want anything?” Michael loomed over her, the lights illuminating his big body. The picnic pavilion at the park was decorated with pretty streamers and twinkle lights. “I think someone brought those rice things. You know, they’re like rice, but they’re not rice.”
She glanced over to the big buffet tables that dominated one side of the pavilion. The tables were loaded with pots and pans of delicious-smelling food that didn’t seem to move her at all. Some of her friends were standing behind the buffet, reloading when needed. Stella had brought a plethora of pies, and she and her husband Sebastian were doling out pieces.
It was Bliss at its best. She was surrounded by friends and feeling incredibly lonely.
“Quinoa. It’s Teeny’s quinoa salad. But because she’s married to Marie, she puts a protein in it, and not black beans or tofu. Nope. That pretty salad hides a bunch of chicken,” she replied. It was the reality of vegan life. Most of the time she looked down at a perfectly good salad and it had a big hunk of meat in it. Or mayonnaise. “It’s okay. I’ll get some of Cassidy’s beet and carrot salad in a bit.”
She was sitting at one of the tables toward the back, kind of sticking to the shadows because she didn’t want to answer the inevitable questions.
When’s Henry coming home?
Where did he go?
Or the worst—how are you doing?
She was doing shitty, and that wasn’t a word she was used to using.
“There’s not a lot of protein in a beet and carrot salad.” Michael sat down across from her. “Caleb wants to make sure you’re getting enough protein. You’ve seemed tired lately.”
She was tired. Tired of avoiding everything. Tired of hiding from the world. Tired of not feeling like herself. “I’m fine. My blood work came back and he said everything is great.”
It had been the second appointment Henry had missed, though she couldn’t blame him.
Except that she’d read the reports of the Jalisco Cartel being brought down. The reports were that rival cartel members had taken down the shadowy head of the system, but she knew the truth. Most of the dead people hadn’t been killed with bullets. They’d had their necks broken.
Her husband had put in some work that night.
That night had been three days ago, and he still wasn’t home. He’d waved her off by saying he had some loose ends to tie up. He’d explained that he’d gotten back in contact with some old friends and needed time with them.
It was everything she’d worried about.
“Maybe we should go home and I can reheat some soup for you or something.” Michael had become as much babysitter as he was bodyguard. In the absence of a violent threat Michael had taken to combatting the dangers of low protein and potential high blood pressure. And the possibility that her walk along the river could lead to falling into the river and dying.
He was a sweet man, but he was also a lot. She was fairly certain that either Henry or Caleb had told him to watch her carefully, and he’d become a large and intimidating mother hen. Or hearing the baby’s heartbeat had a profound effect on him.
“I don’t want to leave.”
Michael sighed. “You want to be here but you’re not really here. You know that, right? Why don’t we go sit with your friends?”
Because then she would be reminded that she was the single one now. Because she would watch Laura with Cam and Rafe, and Holly with Alexei and Caleb, and she would feel her isolation. She would have to smile when she didn’t want to. So why hadn’t she stayed home? She’d told Michael she had to come because she had the recipe for the apple cider they served every year. She could have given it to Teeny. Or Callie. Or anyone.
“I just felt like getting out of the house.” It was where she was now. She didn’t truly want to be home because it reminded her of Henry. And she couldn’t quite make herself be a part of the world around her. She was stuck in this weird place she didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to break out of.
Michael sat back. “Okay. We’ll go with that.” He glanced around the picnic grounds. There was a nice-sized stage where a local band was playing cover tunes. Most of the citizens had brought out picnic blankets and were sitting on the big lawn listening to the music and enjoying the food and drinks. “What is this festival about? I mean, fall I get, but didn’t the Big Game Dinner welcome fall?”
He did not understand how much Bliss enjoyed a party.
“No. The Big Game Dinner is a way to say good-bye to summer. Also to prove we’re all carnivores at heart. It would be so much more meaningful if we let all the animals go free.” She attended the Big Game Dinner, though under protest. And it wasn’t like they could let the animals go free since they were all dead. “The Fall Festival is to say hello to fall. Though mostly it’s kind of a big get-together for Bliss in between our tourist seasons. Winter Fest is all about big tourism and pumping money into the town. I like this one better. Though this year I swear we’re going to…”
“Going to what?”
“I was about to say that this year Henry and I will win the snowman-making contest. Jen and Stef do this super artsy thing, but we practiced all through February,” she replied.
They’d built a snow castle over the course of a week, warming each other up between sessions. She’d written and he’d researched and they’d made love and built snow castles. And vowed to avenge themselves from the last Winter Festival Great Snowman Competition.
“You’re very competitive for a granola girl,” Michael said with a chuckle. “Or is that Henry?”
Henry didn’t seem competitive at all. He was absolutely the best poker player in town and yet she’d watched him scrub hands he could have won. He’
d said it was because he’d known whoever he was playing against needed the money or needed a win.
Or had he done that so no one would question him?
“I think that’s me.” Henry wanted to go under the radar, for obvious reasons. “I’ve always been a little type A when it comes to some things. Not with sports. With academic things, though, and certain artistic pursuits.”
“I can see you being incredibly studious,” Michael agreed. “You were probably in your class’s top ten.”
She sighed, the wistful memory overtaking her. “I would have been my class valedictorian.”
“Would have been?”
“We moved a lot.” When her mom got nervous, they moved. Sometimes it was because she claimed she saw someone she knew from the old country. By old country she’d meant the faery world she’d come from. Sometimes it was because people looked at her funny and she worried the authorities would show up again and take her daughter. “At the high school I graduated from you had to be at the school for at least three semesters in order to qualify. I’d only been there two, so they didn’t rank me.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
She shrugged. She’d agreed. “I protested them. They didn’t care. I was in a state that’s not a great place for protests. Colorado is better. Not that most people listen, but there are fewer guns pointed your way.”
“Cool. I’ll remember that for the future. We’ll keep the protesting schedule to Colorado for the time being. I consider any protest where you get completely ignored to be a successful one.” Michael obviously wasn’t terribly interested in social justice. He’d tried to talk her out of her protest of a neighboring school board who were trying to ban several important children’s books from not only the school’s library, but also the town library. He hadn’t seen the point, but she’d managed to gather together a group of parents who were even louder than the ones who thought books about magical creatures would send their children into satanic worship.