In the Requiem (Metahuman Files Book 5)

by Hailey Turner

  “Barbecue set up?” Annabelle asked.

  Jamie jerked his thumb at the roof. “Ready for your magic touch.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Jamie’s luxury penthouse condo included ownership of the private-living rooftop with its shaded patio area. It got the most use when the entire team was over, with everyone making themselves at home in all areas of the condo. When it was just Jamie and Kyle, they preferred staying inside.

  Annabelle disappeared up the private stairway to the roof to start up the grill. Within the span of fifteen minutes, the rest of the team arrived, including Dr. Gracie Gold. A prominent surgeon who headed up the care of metahumans at the MDF, Gracie was a metahuman with the power to accelerate a person’s ability to heal. She and Donovan had been dating for years and for once, she had the day off.

  Trevor made a beeline for the kitchen to put his pot on the stove while Donovan pointed a finger at Liam. “You owe me a pool game!”

  “Get a drink and let’s have a go. Matthew here can play referee,” Liam said.

  Gracie rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond as Donovan went to join the other two men, all of them thoroughly insulting each other’s prowess at the game. “I brought sweet potato pie, Jamie.”

  “That’s going to disappear quick,” Jamie said, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek. “Better hide it from Kyle.”

  “I will break his fingers if I find them in my pie.”

  Jamie laughed, pointing in the direction of the kitchen. “Put it wherever you want and grab a drink.”

  Madison gleefully took control of the music, creating an exceptionally long and varied playlist for the attending computer to work through while Katie played bartender. Alexei and Sean were the last to arrive, and Alexei immediately got put to work.

  “Annabelle needs you on the roof, Alexei,” Katie said, raising her voice to be heard over the laughter and music.

  Alexei snapped his fingers at her, fire sparking at the tips. “Da. Will go fix grill.”

  “It runs on gas,” Kyle reminded him from where he was sprawled on the couch.

  Alexei rolled his eyes. “Fire is best.”

  Kyle flipped him off, a gesture Alexei swiftly returned. Jamie had long since stopped finding their version of I love you strange. Sean carried the large mixing bowl full of potato salad into the kitchen to store it in the refrigerator until lunch was ready to serve. Jamie settled on the couch next to Kyle, drink in hand, and put his hand over Kyle’s.

  “What are we watching?” he asked.

  “NBA playoffs,” Kyle answered, taking a sip of his beer.

  “Are we betting?”

  “Of fucking course we’re betting. I did your bracket for you.”

  Jamie slouched a little and tugged Kyle closer. “Am I winning?”

  Kyle obediently shifted closer, propping one foot up on the coffee table. “That would be Donovan.”

  “What’s the pot?”

  “A thousand dollars. Practically nothing to you.”

  “Practically nothing that would buy you coffee.”

  “You’ll buy me coffee anyway.”

  “I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

  Katie patted Jamie on the head from behind as she walked past them, a precisely layered cocktail in her other hand. “I trained you well, Jamie.”

  Kyle pumped his fist into the air. “Oorah.”

  Jamie didn’t even bother replying to that, since it was true. Katie had looked out for him from the first moment he’d been assigned to her care as a wet-behind-the-ears second lieutenant in the Marines. She’d followed him into the Recon Marines because she hadn’t trusted him to stay out of trouble.

  In the end, they’d both found trouble, but managed to get through it all right.

  Jamie wrapped his arm around Kyle’s shoulders and kept half his attention on the game and the other half on his team as they came and went. Sean got his full attention when the other man came over with a bowl of chips and dip for their coffee table.

  “Annabelle and Alexei are fighting over the grill,” Sean said.

  “My money’s on Annabelle,” Kyle said, reaching for the chips. “You don’t mess with a Southerner and their barbecue.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “So long as they don’t burn the steaks.”

  “That’s what I told them,” Sean replied. He took a seat on the armchair, beer in hand, eyes on the game. “Who’s winning?”

  “Not your team,” Kyle said a little gleefully.

  Sean made a face. “Damn it.”

  “Talk to Phaedra recently?” Jamie asked, looking over the top of Kyle’s head at Sean.

  “Yeah, yesterday. She’s doing good. Still going to therapy but they’ve cut back on the days. She’s getting better.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  Sean had saved Phaedra Armstrong in the Montana raid, the only survivor of the Splice lab there. As a clairvoyant with the ability to see things happening in real time anywhere in the world, Phaedra was powerful but young, and legally unable to join the MDF. She’d used her power back in November to locate Alexei and Sean. Without her help, there was a strong chance they might not have reached them in time.

  The MDF had placed Phaedra with Alexei’s family for the foreseeable future. His parents and younger sisters doted on the eleven-year-old girl, becoming the family she’d lost in Montana. The MDF had originally assigned an agent to live on-site at the residential apartment complex the Dvorkins had called home, but after what happened in Boston, Jamie bought them a brownstone in a nicer neighborhood and the entire family had relocated. He’d also paid for Phaedra to attend a private school while the MDF footed the bill for her personal security, discreet though it was.

  Jamie was big on family, and always would be. He settled more firmly in the couch and got comfortable, watching the game until his glass was empty. At a commercial break, he got to his feet, snagged a handful of chips, and went to get a second round. Trevor was at the bar, pouring a glass of high-end tequila, but he passed over the whiskey bottle without a word.

  “Thanks,” Jamie said.

  “How goes it?” Trevor asked.

  “My father isn’t thrilled about me being unavailable for the campaign right now, especially after the fallout from the closed session hearing.”

  Trevor grabbed the whiskey bottle and added an additional pour into Jamie’s glass. “Drink up. Eat something. You dwell, and Katie will read you the riot act.”

  “Wouldn’t want that.”

  “I think Donovan is beating Liam at pool. Wanna go watch?”

  “Hell yes.”

  Trevor knocked his glass against Jamie’s and they headed down the hall for the game room that was really only used during house parties. The large room was decked out with a comfortable couch in front of a video game system against the far wall and the aforementioned antique pool table.

  Liam and Donovan were on the eight ball of the current game, with Matthew avidly watching how it played out.

  “What was the bet?” Trevor asked.

  “Their honor and their slice of the sweet potato pie Gracie brought,” Matthew answered.

  Jamie whistled. “High stakes. I’d cheat for the pie.”

  “They have been.”

  “So who’s winning?”

  Matthew shrugged as he finished what was left in his beer bottle. “Who the fuck knows?”

  “Aw, man. Seriously?” Donovan complained as he pressed down on the end of Liam’s pool cue right as he tried to take a shot. “You were supposed to be keeping score.”

  Liam missed the shot, then grabbed the eight ball and dropped it into the nearest pocket. “Game over. I win.”

  “Bullshit!”

  Trevor set his glass on the wooden edge of the pool table and got to work racking the balls. “You and me Donovan. Let’s go.”

  “You putting up your slice of pie as collateral?”

  “Hell no. Just your pride.”

  Liam laughed and got out of the
way. Picking up his empty glass, he pointed a finger at the door. “Need a top up.”

  Jamie nodded. “All right.”

  They left the room, got new drinks, and headed for the rooftop. The smell of grilling meat hit Jamie’s nose while the sound of Annabelle and Alexei’s squabbling filled his ears.

  “I don’t want the fire that hot!” Annabelle said.

  “Is fire! Is hot!” Alexei retorted.

  There wasn’t any anger in their voices, just a good-natured teasing argument that Jamie wasn’t worried about. Annabelle stood in front of the grill, playfully snapping a pair of metal tongs underneath Alexei’s nose as he grudgingly lowered the flames a little using his pyrokinesis.

  The rooftop garden was maintained by the same cleaning crew that handled the penthouse, which meant it was carefully cultivated and well taken care of. Despite the muggy spring weather, it was nice to be outside away from the grind of the streets below. Someone had set the long patio table for lunch with plates and flatware, making sure to keep room for the food dishes.

  Jamie and Liam walked over to the rooftop wall, the structure of the building rising up to waist level before transitioning into a foot-wide thick plas-glass barrier, offering up a 360-degree view of the Washington, D.C. megacity.

  “Cheers for the invite today,” Liam said.

  “You’re always welcome here,” Jamie told him.

  “I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m grateful. I’m going to have loads of appearances in the next few days leading up to the State Dinner. It’s nice to have a break before the madness descends.”

  “You’re more than welcome to join us on any missions if you need an escape.”

  “I wish, but I’m under strict orders to act like a prince, not a soldier for this State visit. No joint missions for me.” Liam looked askance at him, squinting a little through the sunlight. “But if anything happens concerning the Pavluhkins while I’m here, I’m sure Gran would understand.”

  “I want to hope it won’t come to that, but I think it will. I don’t like the odds.”

  “You never do.”

  Liam was one of the few people in his life who understood the weight of command, of leading men and women into danger and hoping they all came back alive. They’d leaned on each other over the years when they could, and Jamie had always appreciated Liam’s support.

  “You ever think about retiring?” Jamie asked slowly.

  Liam peered over his glass at Jamie. “Is this about Kyle?”

  “No.” At Liam’s knowing look, Jamie sighed. “Yes.”

  “Where you go, your team goes. I doubt the MDF would want to lose all of you.”

  Jamie knew the MDF wouldn’t want to lose all of them, because it was an open secret within the MDF that where Jamie went, his people followed. He’d fought to keep them under his command when signing on to the MDF all those years ago, but for all his status as a metahuman, he wasn’t in charge. Jamie knew if his and Kyle’s relationship was discovered, there would be an investigation into their fraternization, and Jamie was heartily sick of investigations right now.

  “Just a thought,” he murmured.

  “Think about it later. Seems lunch is almost ready.”

  Jamie looked over his shoulder as Katie, Kyle, and Sean came onto the roof carrying trays of food in their hands. Annabelle and Alexei had a tray piled high with steaks kept warm beneath a clear warming cover, and if the meat was coming off the grill, that meant lunch was almost ready.

  “You guys ready to eat?” Kyle yelled at them.

  “Yeah,” Jamie called back, pushing away from the wall.

  He pushed his worry about the future aside to focus on what was happening now: a gathering of friends-turned-family with delicious food to share and great conversation. Jamie and Liam returned to the long table, helping to get the food situated.

  The rest of the team made their way to the roof, bringing more food with them, as well as several bottles of wine that Trevor telekinetically opened and started to pour. Room around the table was tight, but everyone fit, and the food smelled great.

  Kyle squeezed between Jamie and Liam, resting his hand on Jamie’s thigh. “All right?” he asked in a low voice.

  Jamie stroked his thumb over the back of Kyle’s hand and the engagement ring he wore. “Yeah.”

  Kyle smiled, quick and bright, green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. Jamie drank in the sight of the man he loved and hoped the day would come soon where they could be like this—together—outside the walls of their home.

  One day.

  “Someone pass me that platter of steaks. I’m starving,” Madison said, pointing at the platter in question on the opposite end of the table from her.

  Jamie looked down the length of the table at everyone gathered for the rare day off and didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Tomorrow would come soon enough.

  7

  Bleed Through the Motions

  The Seine wound through the north of France, rising and falling against the river banks with the changing climate. During years of drought, it sank to low levels that made it impossible for larger river boats or yachts to traverse it safely. During wet winters with heavy rains, the Seine flooded the Paris Basin, putting pressure on the manmade levees and barriers erected over the centuries to contain it and keep the Paris megacity dry.

  Winter this year had been a wet one, which meant come spring, higher water levels and more boats sailing the river. Sixty kilometers outside of Paris, it wasn’t unusual to find sleek yachts moored to the riverbank outside expensive homes and historic châteaux of the rich.

  After the FBI and Interpol had red-flagged Nikolaas Jansen last week, the European Alliance Metahuman Security Group had been working overtime to try to locate the man in question. Jansen’s main business ties were in Europe, and the EAMSG didn’t anticipate him leaving anytime soon for a country he had little to no clout in. Add in the fact the red-flag had also designated Jansen a rogue metahuman, and most countries wouldn’t accept his presence through legal channels.

  Intel had determined that Nikolaas Jansen was holed up in a château owned by a businessman he had blackmailed. The people protecting him were members of the Libération Nationale Français. None of the agencies involved with tracking Jansen down could determine if any of them were metahumans. What no one knew for certain was if Stanislav would move to protect Jansen, or if he’d cut the Dutchman loose. Considering the EAMSG had managed to get eyes on Jansen, the general consensus regarding Stanislav’s protection was a possible no.

  But the situation on the ground was fluid, and Alexei knew things could change in a heartbeat. If the mission had to go FUBAR, he only hoped it happened after he set the water-resistant bombs.

  Swimming through the river currents well beneath the surface, Alexei allowed the map on his tactical goggles’ HUD to guide him to his target. Swimming alongside him less than a meter away but impossible to see except through infrared vision was Kyle.

  Yesterday they were Stateside, enjoying time together as a team. Today they were in France, having been teleported to Paris by Brigitte Moreau, leader of the top French metahuman team deployed by the EAMSG. The Chasseurs were the team they partnered with the most when running joint missions with the EAMSG, and tonight’s mission was one Alexei could definitely get behind.

  He’d had a chance to eliminate Jansen in London back in February, but the mission parameters at the time hadn’t called for Jansen’s death.

  Should’ve just killed him, Alexei thought to himself as he followed the bright blue line on the HUD map. It led him to the small yacht anchored to the shore behind the château Jansen was currently hiding in like the coward he was.

  The dot that represented his position on the HUD map finally overlapped with the outline of a yacht. Alexei spun onto his back in the water, kicking against the current as he raised one arm and swam higher until his hand came in contact with the yacht’s hull. Magnetizing the tips of his gloves to the hu
ll to anchor himself, he carefully bent his knees to brace his feet against the metal. Alexei used his other hand to unclip the inert bomb from his tactical vest and attach it to the yacht. He armed it by touch, barely able to see the soft red glow through the murky darkness as it came online.

  Kyle was in charge of the detonator instead of Madison for this part of the mission. Once the two of them dealt with the security patrolling the shoreline, Kyle would find a perch in a nearby tree to cover Alexei’s six as he advanced on the château from the rear.

  The rest of Alpha Team and several members of the Chasseurs had the château surrounded and the road leading to it under guard. Their approach—by ground rather than by air since the location was smack in the middle of a town—had been easy enough, but no one expected it to stay easy.

  “Charges set,” Kyle reported over comms.

  His voice sounded slightly muffled through the masks they wore. Flexible oxygen tubes attached to the front of their tactical vests were hooked to the air filtration masks that connected to their hard helmets and tactical goggles to form a hard seal. Their water-resistant weapons were secured on their bodies in such a way that they didn’t get in the way while they swam.

  “Secure your area, Reaper,” Jamie ordered.

  “Copy that, Apollo,” Kyle said.

  Alexei reached behind his back with his free hand and got hold of his AKR-75 assault rifle. Bringing it around, he held it close to his body as he demagnetized his glove from the hull, losing his anchor. Kicking against the current, he swam for the surface.

  Alexei’s head broke through the muddy waters of the Seine in the shadow of the yacht’s stern, water dripping down his tactical goggles as his infrared vision automatically switched over to night vision. Kyle broke the surface near the yacht’s bow. The crescent moon gliding across the night sky was hidden behind thick clouds, the lingering storm line providing the perfect cover.

  Alexei listened for sounds of movement above. He could hear the faint murmur of voices on the yacht itself, but didn’t see anyone on the shoreline. He turned to look at Kyle, reading the hand signals his brother rapidly signed with ease.