Zero Hour

by Megan Erickson

  “How do you know about Maximus?”

  Dade rolled his eyes and turned on a heel. At his desk, he began to put his laptop and supplies into his book bag. “I only agreed to this because I knew he would be involved in the end.”

  “What?” Wren followed him. “What’s that mean?”

  Before Dade could answer, Roarke spoke up from the table he sat on while Marisol kneeled next to him, rebandaging his stitches. “So, I’ll try to make this brief. As far as we know, Saltner is dead, and Wren tricked them into thinking the patch was removed. Bad news is that Saltner sold to Maximus—Ouch! Fuck, Marisol!”

  “Sorry!” she wailed. “You said his name, and my hand slipped.”

  Wren shot Marisol a commiserating look. Girl looked terrified. Not of Roarke, but of Maximus.

  Roarke heaved a sigh. “Best thing we can all do right now is split up. Get out of town for a bit, use cash, aliases, you know the drill.” He pointed to a case along the far wall. “In there are burner phones, all programmed with the other numbers. We need to get a hold of one another, use those phones. No names. Just texts. Got it?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Hopefully”—he paused—“we don’t have to get in touch with one another. We can go back to what we were doing before I decided to crash into your lives with my agenda.”

  Wren’s heart went out to Roarke. This hadn’t ended the way he’d wanted. She wasn’t sure he would have been happy with any outcome relating to Saltner. Nothing was bringing Flynn back, and she could see that knowledge sink further into Roarke’s skin with every breath. She wanted him alone, to hold him, to show him there was still more to life than grief and revenge. There was love, too.

  Roarke glanced at Marisol, who sat still beside him, watching his face, and he took in the crew in front of him. “Thank you, everyone. For all you did here for me underground. For all you did for Flynn. I’m in your debt. If you ever need anything, you can call me. And I’ll be there.”

  Fuck, he looked tired, his head lolling on his shoulders.

  Dade made the first move, striding across the floor toward the door. Wren took off after him, wanting to know where he was going next, even though he probably wouldn’t tell her. When he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Roarke, good to see you defeated your man and got the girl. What a lucky bastard you are.”

  His eyes went slightly dark a minute, before he glanced down at Wren. His lips tilted up, and he gripped her hand, lifting it to press a kiss to the back of it. “My dear, it’s been my joy to see you work.”

  He dropped her hand and walked backward, hitching his book bag higher on his shoulder and boosting his voice. “It’s been real, but this is the time I make my exit. Code to write, people to ruin, and all of that.” He pointed at Roarke. “Don’t forget I got one of your chips, and I’ll be around sometime to cash it in.” With a shrug of his shoulder, he was out the door.

  Wren started to go after him, but a hand rested on her shoulder. “Let him go, Duck.”

  She turned around to face her brother, frustrated that Dade never asked for help from anyone and was such a secretive asshole. She’d help him if he ever let her. But he probably wouldn’t, and he’d drawn the boundaries. She had to spend her emotional energy on the people who wanted her. Like those left in the room.

  With her shoulders slumped, she fell into her brother’s arms. “I’m so happy to see you.”

  He squeezed her. “I can’t express how happy I was when we saw you and Roarke alive after running out of that warehouse. Pretty sure this entire mission has given me an ulcer.”

  She laughed but the sound broke off on a groan. “Don’t make me laugh, hurts my jaw.”

  Erick just squeezed her tighter.

  She leaned back so she could look into her brother’s eyes. “You’re coming with us wherever we’re going.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “That’s not a question.”

  “Nope, you’re coming.”

  “Okay, as long as we get a second room for Roarke.” She stared at him, and his face cracked into a grin. “I’m kidding. Love birds stay together.” He pointed at himself with a thumb. “Third wheel gets his own bed and hooks up with a hot local.”

  Roarke finally stood up from the table, where Marisol had been helping him. She reached for his face again, but he batted her away. “I’m fucking done. This is fine. It’ll heal—”

  “You’re going to scar,” Marisol said.

  “Like I give a fuck,” he grumbled back.

  “Yikes,” Erick said. “He’s had enough.”

  Wren broke away from her brother to approach Jock, who was gathering up his things and looked to be going the way of Dade. “Jock?”

  He glanced up at her wordlessly.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly, always feeling a little nervous under his gaze. “For all you did. And for watching Fiona.”

  He nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her until I feel it’s safe. So I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay, so…” This felt weird, to just watch him go. “Maybe we can have dinner sometime. With Roarke. The three of us.” Why was she so awkward?

  Jock might have smiled, maybe—there might have been lip movement—but she couldn’t be sure. He reached out like he planned to touch her before withdrawing his hand. “Maybe. Talk soon.”

  After a brief convo with Roarke and suffering through a hug with Marisol, Jock walked out the door. She wondered if she’d ever see him again.

  Marisol didn’t seem to want to leave. Her eyes were a little wet, and she kept sniffing suspiciously. Wren walked up to her with her arms out, and Marisol fell into them, burying her face in Wren’s sooty hair and squeezing her so tight that she had to gasp to catch her breath. Marisol pulled back, gripping Wren’s face but taking care not to touch her jaw. “Loved working with you, princess,” Marisol said. “Always wanted a good friend, but I’m too much for a lot of women, and for most men, too, so…” Her cheeks colored, and she shrugged. “Never mind, I’ll shut up, probably making more out of it—”

  “Love you, Marisol,” Wren said, wanting her to know that she did mean a lot to Wren, that she’d been inspired by Marisol this whole mission. “You’re brave and smart, and you have the best hair on the East Coast. We’ll meet again soon, yeah?”

  Marisol’s smile lit up the room. “Yeah, you bet, princess.”

  Once Marisol was out the door with a blown kiss to everyone left in the room, Wren stood with Erick and a leaning Roarke. She stood next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. Roarke let her take some of his weight, which was a small gesture of trust she never would have imagined weeks ago.

  Erick took Roarke’s other side. “I’ll drive you guys to Roarke’s place.”

  “I’d like that,” Wren said.

  By the time they reached their destination, the sun had set. Erick helped her bring Roarke inside and lay him on the bed. She followed Erick to the front door, where he placed a kiss on her cheek. “Call me when you wake up. I’ll get new IDs and passports together for you. I think we should start from scratch again and not use any of our other aliases. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”

  She nodded. “Erick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We didn’t get a chance to talk yet, about Flynn. I’m sorry, brother. I’m so very sorry.”

  Erick’s face didn’t cave like she expected it to. He blinked a couple of times and focused on a spot over her shoulder before meeting her gaze again. “I need some time. Time away from all of this, from the anger, pain, all of it. I’ll heal. I have no other choice, but not an hour goes by that I don’t think about him and miss him with every part of my soul.”

  Wren hugged him. “Drive safe.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Take care of your man, and we’ll talk soon.”

  She waved after him and shut and locked the front door.

  Roarke hadn’t moved from where they’d laid him on the bed, but his eyes were open, watching her. She walked
past him, stripping her clothes as she went. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I have to get this smell out of my hair.”

  “What about me?” he said, and the slight pout in his voice made her laugh.

  She paused in the doorway of the bathroom wearing a bra and her underwear. “You want to come with me?”

  “Marisol said I can’t get my stitches wet, and also I’m not sure I can get up.”

  She rolled her eyes and walked over toward him. After a short struggle, she managed to get him on his feet.

  The next ten minutes were the unsexiest minutes of her life. Roarke was like putty, slipping through her fingers, his wet skin impossible to grip as she fought to keep him upright in the shower. They managed to clean their bodies.

  Despite the ache in her jaw, she was feeling okay, but Roarke’s head wound and the force of the explosion on his body was nearly too much.

  They fell into bed naked after she pried his mouth open to take some painkillers and downed some herself.

  Roarke lay facedown and surprised her by nestling close, burying his face in her wet hair. He reached down and laced their fingers together, resting their hands beside her head.

  She turned to face him, and he had one eye open, the other smashed into the pillow. “How do you feel?” she asked him.

  He opened his mouth and stilled.

  “What?”

  “I was about to say fine.”

  “Is there something wrong with fine?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a pat answer. It’s what I always say to avoid further dialogue with someone I have no desire to talk to.”

  She laughed. “Okay, and now?”

  “Well, I want to talk to you. I want to…tell you things.”

  She squeezed his hand. “That’s good.”

  “So, my answer is that I’m not sure. I have all these emotions I think I should be feeling, but instead I feel…okay.”

  “Well, you might need time to process. It’s been only a couple of hours.”

  He rolled onto his side. “Yeah, but I’m not sure this’ll change. I swore after this was over, I’d shrivel up inside. I didn’t think revenge would make me happy, not at all. But it consumed me, like I couldn’t do anything else until I avenged Flynn. That was it. Now that it’s over, now that Saltner is gone…Flynn still isn’t here.”

  “No,” she said softly, “he’s not.”

  “But you are.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “You let me back into your apartment after finding out I’d spied on you for ten years, and you forced me to talk. And you’re still here with me. You told me you loved me.”

  She’d never ever take for granted this honest, vulnerable Roarke. “I do. I meant it.”

  He blinked at her. “Why?”

  “Why do I love you?”

  “I know I love you because you make me happy. Because your heart is so big that you risked your life for Flynn and for your friend. That you’re brave and charming and so beautiful, it hurts to look at you.” He smiled. “I mean, I guess I’m an okay human generally speaking, but I’m not a prime specimen.”

  She rolled onto her side, bringing their hands with her and laying them between their bodies. “I don’t need you to be a prime specimen. There’s nothing wrong with you, remember?”

  He laughed softly. “Right.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she repeated. “So we’re two imperfect but not wrong misfits who deserve to travel the world and run from explosions together.”

  He surged forward with strength that surprised her. “Not wrong,” he mumbled against her lips.

  “Not wrong,” she mumbled back.

  She went to deepen the kiss, but when Roarke didn’t respond, she pulled back. His eyes were closed, lips parted.

  He’d fallen asleep.

  She laughed, snuggling closer to him under the covers, slipping her legs between his and laying a kiss on his neck tattoo. “I’ll be here when you wake up. And we start our adventures.”

  EPILOGUE

  Roarke adjusted his sunglasses as Wren emerged from the Atlantic Ocean and trotted toward him. Her newly dyed black hair barely grazed the top of her chest, and her silver string bikini sparkled on her tan skin.

  He was still white as hell and hiding under an umbrella. He would have worn long pants and sleeves to the beach if Wren hadn’t told him it would draw attention to them.

  She came to a stop at the end of his beach chair and shook like a dog. He yelped as the water hit him. “Hey!”

  He grabbed her around the waist and tugged her into his lap. She shrieked with laughter and wriggled around until she lay beside him on the chaise longue.

  “You’re making me wet,” he grumbled.

  “Are you complaining that I’m here? In this bikini? I can go cover up or go find someone else—”

  He tickled her at her waist, and she dissolved into laughter. He wrapped his arms around her and dropped a kiss onto her wet head. “I’m not complaining. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.”

  They’d been in Trinidad for two weeks, renting a guest house in Manzanilla with Erick. He didn’t leave the house much, preferring to watch Netflix by himself. Roarke had been worried about him, but every day he seemed to be more like himself, lifting out of his grief. It could be the sunshine and leaving DC behind, but either way, it was great to see his friend again.

  They’d received one message on their cells so far, and all it said was “Evelyn gone.” Roarke knew it was from Jock, using Flynn’s code word for Saltner to let them know he was dead.

  They’d followed the news to learn Darren had been arrested on drug charges related to the club. Those were the only charges that could stick, which Wren seemed very upset by, but there was nothing they could do. She hadn’t been able to get a hold of Fiona—who was a freelance writer in New York—but traveling back to the States now was too dangerous. Roarke knew Wren had wanted to do more for her friend, but Darren was behind bars because of her efforts.

  He ran his hand up her back, swirling the water drops that clung to her spine. He knew they’d have to leave here eventually. Roarke had jobs waiting for him, and Wren would have to come with him. He wasn’t quite sure what their lives would look like together, but he knew he couldn’t imagine her not in his.

  They lay there as the sun set, and Wren might have dozed off a little, drooling on his bare chest before jolting awake. She stretched, hair kinked where she’d been resting on him, and blinked with groggy eyes. “I’m hungry.”

  “Erick texted a bit ago, said he got mango curry takeout for us.”

  “Mmm,” she said, sitting up beside him and poking him in the thigh. “Did you really stay under here all day?”

  “Sun fades tattoos.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Weirdo.”

  He went to tickle her again, but she jumped off the chair with a giggle. He lunged to his feet and grabbed her wrist and planted a kiss on her lips when she crashed into him. “Maybe I just like the view,” he said as he nuzzled into her neck. “Watching you run up and down the beach, in the water…better view than anything, better hobby than anything.”

  She pursed her lips. “Okay, fine, you are excused because of your bomb compliments.” She ran her finger down the scar on the side of his face, like she always did, and grabbed their bags. “Come on, let’s go before Erick eats it all.”

  They’d bought an old pickup so they threw the chairs, umbrellas, and their bags into the truck bed before climbing inside. Roarke left the windows down while Wren closed her eyes. As he drove, he admired the small freckles that had begun to pop up on her nose and shoulders from the sun. He’d told her they were cute the other day, and she’d wrinkled her nose at him. He’d never known her skin freckled. He treasured these days, when they had time to learn more about each other, like how Roarke hated the sun and Wren made coffee with a scoop of cinnamon.

  The house they rented was a small, two-bedroom cottage with a full kitchen and one bathroom. It wa
sn’t fancy, but it was theirs alone, and they didn’t have to worry about a hotel front desk. When they got to the house, Erick wasn’t in the kitchen. Roarke grabbed a Diet Coke out of the fridge. Wren flopped down on the sofa and raised her hand to turn on the TV when a beeping echoed throughout the house.

  Roarke froze mid-sip as feet pounded down the stairs. Erick flew into the kitchen, sliding on his bare feet, while Wren scrambled over the back of the couch to join them.

  The three of them stared at one another, and Roarke’s heart sank to the floor at the incessant sound.

  “That’s…not a text,” Erick said.

  The beeping continued, which Roarke now recognized as the ringer from the burner phones, sounding where they kept them in a cabinet in the kitchen. He reached inside and withdrew them, seeing that the same number was calling all three.

  He handed one to Wren, one to Erick, and kept one for himself. Then he answered the phone. “Hello.”

  “Ah, Roarke Brennan and his wired and dangerous crew.” Maximus’s alien voice weaseled into his ear like poison. Wren made a small gasping sound and clapped a hand over her mouth. Erick’s eyes were bugged out of his head. “I see you’ve all picked up your phones now. On this line, I’ve got Marisol, Jamison, and even…” He hesitated. “Even Dade Kelly.”

  Roarke’s heart pounded in his ears, and he grabbed the counter to stay upright. He didn’t say a word and motioned for them all to stay silent.

  “Great. So now that I have you all on the line, I want to commend you on bringing down Arden Saltner. I mean, you didn’t actually bring him down—we all know who did that—but I appreciate you showing me what a sloppy individual he was. So, I guess I should be thanking you.” There was a smile in his tone, heard even through the distorter. The man smiled? Well, Roarke wasn’t even sure Maximus was a man.

  “But I want to caution you from further meddling. Darren has been arrested on drug charges, and I suggest you don’t try to delve more into his affairs. In fact, he won’t even make it to trial alive, but don’t tell anyone I told you that.” Goddamn, the man planned to take down Darren just like he took down Arden. “Roarke, I know you’ve been on forums you weren’t supposed to be on, checking out the…shopping list. I think it’s best you forget about all of that. If you think Darren was in charge, then you’d be mistaken. If you need some incentive, then know that I’m aware there are people involved who can’t protect themselves as well as you can. A certain young woman in New York, for example. You understand, right?”