Hiding In Plain Sight

by Bru Baker

  Candice looked terrified but nodded. “I will.”

  He watched her clatter onto the fire escape before going back down the trap door. He jumped from the third-story railing, catching the railing on the floor below and swinging himself into the corridor.

  Harris hadn’t moved an inch in the five minutes he’d been gone. His chest was still rising and falling, but his breaths sounded pained.

  “I’m here,” he whispered. Harris’s eyelids fluttered open, and the look of pure love and trust he gave Jackson made Jackson’s heart hurt.

  “You called me baby,” Harris wheezed. “That’s new.”

  Jackson scanned his surroundings looking for anything he could use to break the lock. “Would you prefer something else? My love? Sweetheart?”

  Harris resettled himself against the wall, grimacing. “Mate.”

  Jackson swallowed hard. “Yes. Mate.”

  “’m sorry I never told you,” Harris said, his words thick. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  Wait.

  “Baby, why would you scare me? You’re my mate. I’m the one who has been an asshole, denying it. And someday after I’ve made it up to you, maybe your wolf will accept me as its mate too.”

  Harris coughed, clutching at his ribs. “You’ve been my mate for years.”

  Footsteps clattered up the stairs before Jackson could answer. Abernathy appeared with a pair of bolt cutters.

  “Good job getting the girl out,” she said. “We’ve got all the guards subdued downstairs. Only one fatality.”

  Jackson didn’t want to ask if it was theirs or the fae’s. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

  Abernathy clipped the padlock and raised the gate. “Scott radioed the camp. Your doctor was already en route. His ETA is ten minutes.”

  Jackson rushed into the cell as soon as the grate was open, falling to his knees in front of Harris. He took his hand carefully, worried any touch might hurt his ribs or cause further damage.

  Another Enforcer appeared in the doorway, a black bag in his hands. He knelt on Harris’s other side and pried his arm away from his ribs.

  He snapped on a pair of gloves and cut Harris’s bloodied T-shirt away, exposing a puncture wound that was still oozing blood.

  The medic probed at it gently, drawing a hissed curse from Harris.

  “Your rib is going to have to be set before you can heal,” he said apologetically.

  “Can it wait for Drew?” Jackson asked, watching them. “Would you be more comfortable if he did it?”

  Harris groaned. “Just do it,” he bit out.

  The medic looked up at Jackson. “Can you hold him down? This will hurt like a bitch.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  HARRIS didn’t see why he had to spend the night in the infirmary. He’d healed up just fine after that sadistic bastard reached his hand inside and yanked on his broken rib. By the time Drew got there, the skin had knitted back together and his most pressing concern had been his concussion.

  The ride back to Camp H.O.W.L. passed in a blur of pain and nausea. He’d lain across Drew’s back seat with his head in Jackson’s lap. Being that close to his mate sped his healing, which was an awesome benefit of a reciprocal mate bond he hadn’t known about.

  Jackson was conked out on a cot in the corner. He’d refused to leave Harris for a moment, which made Harris’s wolf preen. He knew it was stupid—Jackson should have gone to grab a shower and rest somewhere more comfortable—but there was something about seeing his mate’s devotion to him that was ridiculously satisfying.

  His mate. Harris couldn’t stop grinning. Jackson found them because he’d followed their bond. Harris wasn’t going to say it made the horror show that was getting kidnapped by the fae worth it, but it kind of did. He hated that Candice was caught up in all of this. Watching Richard die hadn’t been a walk in the park either, but honestly, it was the same fate he’d have gotten from the Tribunal.

  Harris rubbed his side. His healing ribs ached a bit, but it was a small price to pay for being alive. The Fae Guard had intended to kill him, and he probably would have killed Candice as well if he hadn’t gotten pulled into the fight downstairs with the Tribunal Enforcers. Harris wasn’t sure what was going to happen to the fae who took them, but he couldn’t say he cared. It was over, and he didn’t want to dwell on it.

  Not the healthiest outlook, and definitely one that would bite him in the ass later, but that was future Harris’s problem. He could see why some of his patients refused to deal with their problems head-on.

  A tentative knock sounded, and Candice eased the door open and poked her head inside.

  “Is it okay to see you?”

  He grinned and motioned her in. He pointed to Jackson and held a finger up to his lips. “Of course. Is Drew done checking you over?” he whispered.

  She’d been whisked into another infirmary room when they’d arrived, and Harris hadn’t seen her since. It was a relief to see her walking and looking relatively unscathed.

  “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through all this,” he said.

  She hesitated at the end of his bed, so he patted the space next to his hip. “It’s fine to come sit if you want.”

  She climbed up on the bed and folded her hands in her lap, staring at them. “It’s my fault you were hurt.”

  Harris rested a hand on top of hers, squeezing them. “No. It was the fae’s fault, and they’re being dealt with.”

  He never touched patients, but this was different. Besides, there was no way he could be her therapist anymore. He’d have to transfer her to Kenya or Nick. They were too close after this shared trauma, and he wouldn’t be able to be neutral and help her work through it.

  Her face crumpled, and she turned and buried her head in his shoulder as the tears flowed. It was an awkward position, but he curved an arm around her and rubbed her back.

  “You’re safe now. The Tribunal is working with the Fae Council, and Jackson said we’ve both been cleared of all charges.”

  “What about the other guy? They killed him!”

  It was exactly what Richard deserved, but Harris didn’t think telling her that would help. Most Weres never witnessed how vicious retribution was when someone put the safety of the supernatural community at risk. It was a hard lesson to learn so young.

  “He broke the law, Candice,” Harris said gently. “He’d signed his own death sentence, whether it was by the hands of the fae or the Tribunal.”

  Harris was grateful that she’d been in the cell next to him so she didn’t see them stab him. No doubt that would have been traumatizing. It wasn’t going to go down as one of his fonder memories.

  The sight of Jackson kneeling over him looking at him like he’d created the moon? That one was going to be saved for posterity.

  A shadow fell over the doorway, and they looked up, tensed for trouble. It was just Drew, standing there with a clipboard and an exasperated expression.

  “I told you to get some sleep, Harris,” he scolded. “Candice, come with me. We need to get you dinner.”

  She eased away from Harris, ducking back in to give him a careful hug.

  “Go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nodded and left with Drew, who gave him a stern look before turning out the light and shutting the door.

  Harris eased down on the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position. He let out a soft groan of pain when he jostled his head, and Jackson was at his side an instant later.

  “I thought you were asleep,” Harris said, smiling as Jackson rearranged pillows with singular focus.

  “I was dozing. You’re really good with her,” Jackson said. “Just being near you made her heartbeat calm and her scent settle.”

  “It’s my job.”

  Jackson pulled the fleece blanket higher, taking care as he tucked it around Harris’s ribs. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of Harris’s nose. “It’s not just a job for
you, Harry.”

  He settled into the place Candice had been sitting, curving his arm around Harris’s head and leaning in close. “I can’t ask you to leave Camp H.O.W.L. It’s obvious how much you love helping these kids.”

  They hadn’t talked about the reality of their mating and what it would mean for their careers. Harris braced himself. “I want to be wherever you are.”

  Jackson rested his forehead against Harris’s. “Ditto. I’m going to talk to Anne Marie about a permanent position here as head of security. I think the last few weeks have proven you need one. It can’t be a secondary task assigned to the staff anymore.”

  Harris’s heart clenched. “No. Jackson, that’s such a waste of your talent. You were made for bigger things. I can’t ask you to give up all your dreams and stay here with me.”

  Jackson kissed his forehead and sat up so they were eye-to-eye. “I almost lost you, Harry. If we’d been a minute later, they’d have realized the spear didn’t pierce your heart and come back to finish you off. You almost died. There’s nothing more important than you. You’re my mate.”

  Harris pushed him away and struggled to sit up with a wince. “No. I know the Enforcer job is out, but there are other careers out there. I’m not going to let you give up on being a Second. You were made for that position, Jackson.”

  Jackson pulled away. “So, I should walk away from you? Give you up right after I found you?”

  Harris bunched the bedcovers in his fists. His mate was a stubborn son of a bitch. “No, Jackson. I’ll go with you. I can work anywhere.”

  He held Jackson’s gaze for a long, frustrating moment before breaking down and laughing. His head screamed, and he clutched at it, in pain but unable to stop his giggles.

  “Our first big fight and it’s about who is more willing to give up their career for the other,” Harris said.

  “Fuck that, our first fight was you walking away from me after the Tribunal called,” Jackson said.

  “Or maybe when you freaked out after you kissed me the first time,” Harris said, his smile growing when Jackson gave him an affronted look.

  “I should have known being mated to you would be a challenge,” Jackson teased. He leaned in and gave Harris a soft kiss. “No running this time, see?”

  Harris kissed him back, but his head protested, leaving him dizzy and sick.

  “You’re hurting yourself. You need to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

  Harris looked at him, wide-eyed. “You felt that through the bond?”

  Jackson wrinkled his nose. “Yes.”

  That was amazing. Connecting during a time of extreme stress was one thing, but being able to sense his feelings right now was something else.

  Harris closed his eyes and focused on the way the bond hummed through him, warm and comforting. He followed the thread of it, losing his concentration when he felt Jackson’s concern and grudging amusement.

  “I’m fine,” he said, opening his eyes again.

  “You’ll be even more fine tomorrow. Drew said if you got some decent sleep, your body will heal the concussion overnight. No more stalling. Sleep.”

  He retucked Harris and then climbed onto the bed and stretched out in the narrow space beside him.

  Harris luxuriated in the warmth of Jackson’s body beside him, his wolf relaxing and sleepiness setting in. He turned his head toward Jackson, drifting off to the warm press of lips against his forehead.

  “I’M just saying, give yourself some time before you make any major decisions.”

  Harris scowled at Tate’s image on the screen, and Tate shrugged. “It’s what you’d tell your own patients, and you know it.”

  He was right. After a traumatic experience, he’d tell his patients to put off big decisions for a while. Like quitting Camp H.O.W.L. without having a job to jump to.

  He had his letter of resignation on his desk, printed and signed. He’d stay until Jackson landed somewhere, but he had no idea how long that would be.

  “Have you thought about what we’ve been planning?”

  Harris cracked a smile. “Oh, I see. The life-altering decision ban doesn’t count if it benefits you?”

  Tate chuckled. “Well, it’s not out of left field. We’ve been talking about this since I set up my practice out here, and when Jackson was headed to the East Coast Tribunal Enforcers, you put a timeline of a year on it. I’m still good with that, but if you wanted to jump now, well, there’s space for you. I’ve been turning clients away, which I hate to do. There’s a huge need out here, man.”

  Harris had planned to buy into Tate’s practice in New York, but mating with Jackson might take that off the table.

  “I don’t know if he’ll want to be in New York City,” Harris said, picking up a paper clip and playing with it. “Maybe he could get on the police force out there.”

  “Or he could move Fang and Fury here,” Tate said. “There are a few established firms out this way, but there’s plenty of work.”

  Harris shook his head. “Jordan is moving back to St. Louis and taking Fang and Fury with him. He’ll operate out of there.”

  Moving to St. Louis was an option, but Jackson seemed lukewarm to the idea when Jordan brought it up over breakfast. He wanted to strike out on his own, and Harris could appreciate that.

  “I’ll talk to him about it,” Harris said. “But like I told Jackson this morning, I’ll go wherever he goes.”

  “You sound like a lovesick fool,” Tate said, wrinkling his nose.

  “I sound like you and Adrian circa a few years ago,” Harris pointed out. “The two of you had this exact argument after he left Camp H.O.W.L. and went back to Portland. You wanted to move out there, and he didn’t want you to give up your career here.”

  Tate flipped the camera off. “Whatever.”

  “You’re the worst therapist,” Harris laughed. “Maybe I don’t want to go into a practice with you. Do you flip all your patients off?”

  “Only the ones who are being idiots,” Tate said. He paused and cocked his head. “My next appointment is here. Listen, why don’t you two come to New York for a few days? I can show you the practice, and I’ll find someone from the Pack to give Jackson a tour. I bet Alpha Connoll has connections that could help Jackson find a job.”

  Harris said his goodbyes and cut the connection. He put his letter of resignation in the desk drawer. Anne Marie wouldn’t accept it from him right now anyway. He was on mandatory leave as of this morning. Two weeks. She told him she didn’t care if he spent it at camp or somewhere else, but he wasn’t going to be assigned any duties, and all of his patients had been divided up between Kenya and Nick.

  Candice had taken the news hard, but he’d explained that he couldn’t continue to see her as her therapist. As a friend, yes. He’d promised her she could call him day or night to talk about anything.

  He scented Jackson a second before there were two quick knocks on his office door.

  “Come in,” he called, spinning in his chair to watch Jackson walk through the door. The sight of him took Harris’s breath away. He couldn’t believe Jackson was his. After all this time, his mate was his to touch and hold and order around.

  “Take those boots off before you track mud all over my rug,” he said.

  “Nag, nag, nag,” Jackson teased as he toed the boots off. “Just did a perimeter check, and everything’s fine. The district Enforcer agreed to drop by once a week or so and do a patrol, but I think the camp’s problems are over. Did you see Candice made a statement?”

  He hadn’t, but she’d talked to him about it this morning. Her agent had been sitting on a script about a girl in juvenile detention who learns the government is rounding up kids to force their parents to work for a secret agency, so she leads a revolution. They announced she’d been at Camp H.O.W.L. doing research on juvenile detention centers. The Tribunal signed off on it.

  “We had a few paparazzi at the gates, but the park rangers ran them off. I think we’re through the worst of it.�
��

  That was a relief. He didn’t like that Camp H.O.W.L. was on the map at all, but this was the best resolution they could hope for. Part of him wished he could resurrect Richard so the Tribunal could kill him again. Most of this was that rat bastard’s fault.

  Harris reached his arms out, and Jackson straddled him in the chair. He nuzzled against Harris’s neck. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Harris answered, his entire body settling as the warm weight of his mate caged him in. “Tate invited us to come out to New York. Meet the Pack. Maybe job hunt. What do you think?”

  A knock interrupted them, and Harris groaned. Privacy hadn’t been a thing they’d experienced yet as mates. It was frustrating.

  Jackson nipped at his jaw before standing up. “I think that sounds wonderful, assuming we’re getting a hotel room where we can be alone.”

  “Definitely,” Harris muttered.

  “Come in,” Jackson said when the person knocked again.

  Nick opened the door, his eyes averted like he was expecting them to be naked.

  “For fuck’s sake. Just come in,” Harris groaned.

  Nick laughed and shut the door behind him. He sank onto the couch. “I’m just dropping by to make sure you’re not working. And to tell you that Anne Marie has been talking to a friend of Kenya’s about filling in for you. She was one of Kenya’s psychology students, and she’s looking for work. Anne Marie offered her a temporary contract with the option to be brought on permanently if something opened up.”

  He gave Harris a significant look, and Harris sheepishly pulled his letter of resignation out of the desk and walked it over to give to Nick.

  “That’s what we thought. We didn’t want to pressure you in case we were wrong, but it’s pretty clear you two aren’t going to be happy here.”

  “You heard us last night?” Harris felt stupid—they’d argued in the infirmary, and Nick lived upstairs. He probably heard every word.

  “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you two weren’t quiet. I didn’t say anything to Anne Marie, but you know she’s got a freaky second sense for this kind of thing. She knew Tate was leaving before he knew himself, remember?”