I don’t have that reaction to Gage, which is curious.
Gage stares at me. Long enough that it becomes uncomfortable. I stare back, but I try for stoic instead of challenging. I really shouldn’t be antagonizing a guy that powerful.
Finally Gage turns to Rustem. “I already know where to find him.” He disappears down the hall.
I look to Rustem. “Should you be stopping him?”
Rustem shrugs. “He won’t hurt him.”
“How do you know?” I gesture with the soldering iron. “He said he couldn’t trust anyone.”
“He won’t hurt him” is all Rustem says. “And we’ll hear if he does.”
Oh, that’s super reassuring. I shake my head. “Shouldn’t you at least listen by the door?”
If Wolfe ends up dead, I won’t get paid. And I’m not going to admit that my unease runs deeper than that.
Rustem sighs. “Gage wouldn’t sneak around. He’d come right at Gideon.” There’s admiration in his tone. “He’d have been a great wrestler.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Figuring I’m not going to get anywhere with him, I turn back to the panel. This at least I can do something about.
As I start soldering, a thought occurs to me: Is Gage allowed to see Wolfe’s face? And does he know the complete story about what happened here?
Chapter 10
The commotion down the hall warns me that I have an unwanted guest. There’s still time for me to duck into somewhere private and avoid them, but I don’t.
Hiding my face and letting the rumors spread hasn’t tempted my enemies into attacking again. Maybe if they get a good look at my face, confirm what happened for themselves, they’ll strike. And I’ll be ready when they do.
The plan is fluid after all. And if Rustem hasn’t tossed them out on their ass yet, they must be someone close to me. Probably one of the guys. There wouldn’t be that much noise for Raven or Morgan.
I hear Gage before I see him. Huh. That’s not who I would have expected to come first. Archer maybe—he’s the closest to me out of all of them. Or at least he was. I haven’t heard anything from him since the incident.
My sternum starts to throb.
I look up as Gage comes into my office, letting him see my entire face. I tense for a moment, then make myself relax. Gage forcing his way into my house is unusual, but not so unusual that I should lose my temper over it.
I’m tempted though. “Didn’t you see the No Trespassing signs?” I ask, putting bite into it.
Gage pauses by the door. He looks the same as always—a lean and hungry look, Ira would say about him. Ira meant it as a compliment, a joke.
If Ira could see Gage today, he might not say it in amusement. Gage looks like he hasn’t been sleeping. Same as me.
“Gage Cannon here to see you,” Gulizar chirps.
I roll my eyes. “Thank you so much,” I say with dripping sarcasm. Being a computer, she doesn’t get it.
“Shit,” Gage mutters. “You look awful.”
“Thanks.” I nod toward the door. “Shut that.”
He does without ever taking his eyes off my face. “What’s that woman doing here?”
Gage doesn’t bother with preambles. He’s never been one to waste words. At least this intrusion will be brief—as long as I’ve known Gage, I’ve never had a conversation last longer than ten minutes with him. “Installing the new security.”
He doesn’t sit down. Instead, he plants his fists on my desk. “Raven’s worried about you. And so’s Morgan, although she won’t admit it.”
I sigh. Those two are a… complication in all my plans. I don’t want to hurt them. But it might be inevitable since they’re tangled up with all of us even though they’re the innocent ones. “I’ll call Raven soon.” Morgan can wait since Raven will pass on any information to her sister anyway.
“Today.” Gage puts one thick finger on my phone.
“Shouldn’t Bishop be the one bringing me messages from Raven?” Bishop is the protector of our group, the one who takes the world on his shoulders. So naturally he hovers over Raven. He feels responsible for the worst tragedy of her life.
We’re all guilty there, but Bishop takes it hardest. Really, he should have been the one saving lives with medical devices. Instead, he uses his skills to decode the stock market, swimming with some of the bloodthirstiest sharks I’ve ever met.
I move the phone away from Gage, although he’s right. I should call Raven. And Morgan.
Morgan doesn’t need any of us hovering over her though. She and Tynan were close, and when he died, she distanced herself from the rest of us. If she knew what really happened…
“He’s busy.” Gage catches sight of the device on my desk. “How’s that working out?”
“Nobody’s snuck explosives in yet, so I’d say it’s fine.” I push it toward him. “Rustem loves it.”
Gage picks it up and examines it. “When’s he going to quit and come work for me? Running errands for you is a waste of his talents.”
“He’s not a mercenary.”
“No, but he speaks some languages we could use.” Gage tosses the device, then catches it, his fist flexing over it.
“Speaking of language, you’re talkative today.” Gage is monosyllabic at the best of times. This is like a fucking soliloquy from him.
Gage shrugs, his massive shoulders straining his suit. “Oscar’s been asking about you too.”
Our gazes meet.
“I don’t answer to Oscar.” Oscar’s taking over as our mentor for Ira never quite worked out, no matter how hard Oscar tried. He’s a good guy, but he’s no Ira.
“Not anymore.” Gage tosses the device again. “So, you’re going to cut him off too? After everything he did for us? And Raven and Morgan? What the fuck did they ever do?”
I lean back in my chair. “Did you ever think, after what we did, that maybe we should have cut off Oscar and Raven and Morgan? Given back our inheritances to the girls, told Oscar he shouldn’t be helping us with his contacts?”
I do. I think all the time about how I insisted the system was ready to test, that everything would be perfectly fine. About how fucking stupidly, deadly wrong I was.
“Every day,” Gage says simply. “But we didn’t. And now they care about us.”
I run my hand over my face. “They shouldn’t.”
“Look, I’m not saying we deserve it. But it’s there. Whatever happened to make you close off like this, even more than usual… it’s not their fault.”
It’s not. But it might be his. Or Archer’s, or Cassian’s, or Bishop’s.
Maybe it’s time to come out of the shadows, see if I can lure them close enough to expose themselves. I’ll have to weigh the danger of leaving the notebook alone though.
“When’s Raven’s next party?” I ask casually.
“It’s Morgan’s half birthday next Friday. Everyone will be there.”
Half birthdays are a thing in that family, and Ira celebrated harder than anyone. We still get together for the girls’ half birthdays, but it was never quite the same after he died. Missing a half-birthday party won’t be that big of a deal.
But if they’ll all be there, it’ll be the perfect opportunity to observe them all, maybe press on them some.
I used to just enjoy those things. And now I’m plotting about them.
“Will Beck be there?” I ask, remembering what I did to the Inspiron car in my garage. Morgan, for whatever reason, decided that dating Axel Beck would be an awesome idea. I wonder if they ever find time to actually talk what with Beck documenting his every breath for Instagram.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Gage looks as if he’d like to be sick. “I wish she’d dump that asshole.”
“He wants her AI algorithms for his cars,” I say bluntly. “There’s no way that empty-headed pretty boy came up with their self-driving system all on his own.”
Oh, he crows about it to every news outlet he can, about how revolutionary Inspiron’s tech
is, how his cars are the wave of the future and he’s the genius behind all of it. But I’ve been in the guts of those systems and I don’t buy it. That AI has Morgan’s fingerprints all over it. She should have started her own company instead of working for that idiot. And then to date him…
I shake my head. “Asshole,” I mutter.
“We all agree,” Gage says, “but as long as she’s happy, we have to tolerate him.”
“If he puts my picture on his shitty Instagram…”
“He won’t.” Gage’s smile isn’t nice. “You don’t fit his brand.”
That’s for damn sure. Morgan does though—beautiful, intelligent, exactly the kind of person Beck thinks he is.
“I’ll see if I can make it,” I say lazily, making it sound like I probably won’t.
“Just… try to show up. For them. They’re Ira’s daughters and his best friend. Or they were. Do it for Ira.” He sets the device on the desk, where it hits with a heavy clatter. “I’ll leave that for you. I think you still need it.”
I do, but I can’t confess that to him. I need him to go back to the rest of them and spread some more rumors. About my face, my injuries, what my security situation might be.
Gage and I used to be close before Ira died. It’s weird, because we had such different backgrounds but maybe not so weird since neither of us are the most social of dudes. Sitting together silently is our idea of a good friendship. When things were getting really bad with my parents right after I dropped out of med school, Gage would work quietly next to me for hours on end—his way of showing me support. He never mentioned what was going on. He was just there.
And I did the same for him when his dad got sick for the last time.
I can’t do that with him now. And suddenly I really, really hope he isn’t behind all this so I can do it again.
“Thanks,” I say.
He waits as if he expects me to say more. Then he gestures to his face. “Do you want me to tell Raven about…?”
I shrug. “Tell them whatever you want.”
He watches me for a long moment, like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t. He turns and leaves without another word.
I stare at the device for a while. He’s right, which I hate to admit—I have to leave sometime. If only to see Raven, Morgan, and Oscar.
My phone buzzes. “Hello?”
“Is everything okay?” Tess’s worry vibrates through the line. I texted her earlier to make sure she got whatever she needed for today—I guess she was too anxious to settle for a text this time. “I mean, I know who that was, but you said no one could come in. You said you couldn’t trust anyone.”
“It’s fine. And if Gage wants to get in, I don’t think we can stop him.”
I stare at the device he left as I ponder that. If Gage wanted into my safe, he would have already been in there, I’m pretty sure.
Does that mean he’s not behind it? Maybe.
Or maybe I’m overestimating him. Maybe the person who pushed me down the stairs is one of his mercenaries and I’m lucky not to have a broken neck.
This is like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back. Each turn could bring me closer to the truth. Or take me further from it.
“Isn’t the whole point stopping everyone?” Tess says.
She’s right. And I can’t trust anyone, not even Gage. “Right. So you need to work faster.”
She stifles an angry noise. “I’m working as fast as I can. I have no access to my tools or shop or my employee—”
“Excuses,” I snap. “I don’t want to hear them. I want results. Today wasn’t a great look, was it?”
I’m not mad at her, I’m mad at Gage, but she’s close at hand at the moment. Which is fucked up, but she was warned.
There’s a sharp inhale. “He’s your friend.”
“I have no friends. And you should be working.”
I hang up. For long moments I simply stare into space, my hands rhythmically curling into fists. God, I’m such a dick. But it’s better that she realize that and stay away from me.
And fuck, I’m sick of myself. I pick up my phone again, dial Rustem. “Meet me in the gym.”
He’s already down there by the time I arrive, lacing up his gloves. I get into my own gear and climb grimly into the ring, my ribs burning and my broken fingers throbbing.
“What did Gage want?” Rustem jabs at my head.
I duck, try for a right cross. “To remind me of how loved I am.”
Rustem manages to snort as he dances out of reach. “Did he take his stuff back?”
“Nope.” I duck under his fist, looking for an opening. My ribs are fucking burning with stabbing pains with each breath, but I push harder, pulling more pain in. Just fucking eating it up. “But he did offer to hire you away.”
“Maybe I’ll say yes this time.” He jabs once, twice, catching me on my uninjured side. I twist away from the blows, but my breath still hisses out like steam from a busted boiler.
“The fuck you will,” I pant. “You just like to tease him.” I circle, searching for a way to repay Rustem for those jabs. My broken fingers throb, reminding me that this is a stupid-ass idea.
I don’t care.
“She was worried about you,” Rustem says. “Wanted me to toss Gage out to protect you.”
“You should have.” A surge of energy rushes through me, and I drive him back, back, until the only thing he can do is to protect his head. When he meets the corner post, I let up.
I fall back into the ropes, my ribs on fire and my hand feeling like it’s about to fall off. But my mind is clear.
Rustem, even though I boxed him into a corner, hardly looks winded. Probably because his ribs are intact. “Feel better?”
I nod. “How’s she coming along?”
“You should go see for yourself.”
I send him a warning look. “I’ve got work to do.”
“You have time to get it done. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.” He starts stripping off his gloves. “She asked for more supplies and for her friend to come help her.”
“Yes to the supplies,” I say. “No to the friend. Isn’t that her employee though?”
“She’s her friend too.” Rustem swings a leg over the ropes and climbs out. “I’ll arrange for the supplies.”
“Order in some lunch and dinner for her too.” I start to pull off my own gloves, wincing as my broken fingers come free. “Have it sent to the cottage.”
The look Rustem sends me is too knowing. “You don’t want to have dinner with her again?”
I do, which is entirely the problem. I want to watch her sit in a pool of light, then kiss her until we’re both panting and feral. And beyond.
“Just take care of it,” I say, tossing my gloves aside. “I’m getting back to work. This time see that no one disturbs me.”
Chapter 11
Almost a week here and I haven’t seen Wolfe at all. And I don’t mean his face—I mean any of him. Rustem brings me my supplies, food is delivered to my house, and I call my parents and Victoria every night. And that’s the sum total of my human interaction.
Wolfe hasn’t appeared at all. Not at dinner, not in the shadows, not even on the phone or intercom. If he’s here, he’s good at keeping away from me.
And he is here. There’s something in the air, a charge that makes my hair crackle, that could only come from him. I may not be able to see him, but I can sense him.
I haven’t sought him out though. I’ve got work to do. I’ve managed to reestablish the security perimeter outside, hooking up the gates, the cameras, and the buried proximity sensor to a system running an operating system of my own design. And completely cut off from any other network. If someone wants to hack into it, they’ll have to break into the security nerve center I’m setting up in an extra room inside the house. Which means they’ll have to break through the perimeter first, which should be damn near impossible now.
No one’s tried to co
me visit Wolfe since Gage Cannon came, so I haven’t had a chance to really test it. Rustem was pretty game about helping me do some initial tests—I think he liked the idea of pretending to be a secret agent or ninja warrior—but a more realistic test would be better.
It’ll have to wait though. And I’ve got plenty to do inside the house. I’m trying to repair one of the panels downstairs, but I need to get into the wiring, which is in the wall. And this particular panel has wiring that leads upstairs to the forbidden zone.
When I reach the stairs, I keep following the wires. I know he said I couldn’t go upstairs, but I also can’t do my job if I don’t. It’s ridiculous to expect me to avoid an entire floor. Besides, I’ll be in and out before he knows it. I just need to know where this bundle of wires ends.
As I come up the stairs, I get the sense of the house changing. It’s less vast and echoing, more cozy. There’re even some pictures on the wall, personal photos.
I stop by one that’s a group of teenagers, maybe even college kids, with an older man. The boys are grinning like they know something you don’t, and the man looks so proud of them. There’s two girls with them too, about the same age as the boys. They look so much alike they must be sisters, with long, dark curls, oval faces straight out of a Renaissance painting, and soulful eyes. One is dead serious in all the pictures, her mouth never once cracking into a smile. The other one is smiling at least, but it’s small, uncertain.
As I look more closely, I realize I recognize some of them. There’s Wolfe, looking much younger than the photos I’ve seen. And more carefree. His pictures now have a hardness to them, like he’s always one irritation away from a snarl.
This Wolfe looks almost kind. But also arrogant, like he knows he’s going to take the world by storm.
I lift my finger to the photo, tracing the same spot on his face as I did in the darkened dining room. But the flat surface can’t tell me if the face there is anywhere near the same as the one I touched.
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