Strength (Mark of Nexus #1)

by Carrie Butler

  “Then indulge me a little longer.” She picked at a thread on her bedspread. “While I have you here, I want to thank you.”

  “Why?”

  She leaned in, dropping her tone. “He’s kept himself so distant since that incident—never allowing himself to touch anyone, for fear of hurting them. He hasn’t hugged me since he was a boy, and I am far from human, myself. I was worried he’d never find someone to confide in.”

  My face grew warm. “I, uh…”

  Wait. She knew about Wallace killing the drunk?

  “There’s another thing I want to say while I’m at it,” she continued. “I apologize for Nicholas’ behavior. He’s always been overly zealous in his pursuits. Try as I might, I can never shake enough sense into that boy.”

  My fingers instinctively found the bandage at my neck, tracing the gauzy patch. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “He knows better than that.” She shook her head, looking surprisingly stern. “I didn’t raise him to act this way.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for what he does now. He’s a grown man. He’s making his own choices.” I crossed my legs and looked around. “Besides, it’s over now.”

  “Is it?” She pushed down on the mattress as she stood. “Well, then, I’ve kept you long enough. Why don’t you go downstairs and keep Wallace company while I fix a little something to eat?”

  “Are you sure you don’t need help?” I sprang up as she went into the bathroom and gathered my wet clothes for the dryer. “I could—”

  “Go on,” she urged, nodding toward the hallway. “It’s that second door on the right, as you’re walking toward the living room.”

  I took a few steps and hesitated in the doorway. “Thanks, Clara. For everything...”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Wallace?” I called, looking both ways as I reached the bottom of the stairs. The basement was an open, studio space, offering mismatched furniture, faded sports posters, and very few signs of life. There were two desks off to the left, but no one occupying them.

  I turned right, moving toward the beds along the far wall. They had to be here somewhere. “Guys?”

  “Had to grab a quick shower,” a muffled voice called.

  I jumped back as a door creaked open. “What?”

  Wallace appeared in the doorway, rubbing a towel over his head. He shot me a lopsided grin as he strode across the room. “Nice dress.”

  “It’s a nightgown,” I muttered, my eyes tracing his every move.

  He seemed unfazed by the fact that he was standing in front of me, shirtless, rifling through a beat-up dresser. Taut cords of muscle flexed and shifted as he moved, definitive lines disappearing beneath the band of his pajama pants. “Uh huh.”

  My skin felt unbearably tight as I stood there, staring. He looked completely out of place—a man dwarfing an adolescent backdrop. I swallowed and shook my head. It was just Wallace. My friend. My—

  “I know staying here makes things a little awkward,” he said, misinterpreting my anxiety. “But it’s just one night.” He scrunched a t-shirt up his arms and jerked it over his head. “I’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

  What was he saying? Damn it. How was I supposed to concentrate with that bump and grind music in my head? “It’s fine,” I lied, hoping to change the subject. “So, where’s Cole?”

  He chuckled under his breath, turning to toss his towel in the hamper. “Grandma has him cleaning the garage.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, she wasn’t too happy with what happened.” He gestured for me to have a seat. “She’s the only person he’ll listen to. I think that’s why he moved out. So he didn’t have to feel guilty about what he was doing.”

  I sat on the bed in the corner, crossing one leg over the other. “What was he doing?”

  He blew out a sigh and plopped down on the other bed, facing me. “Uh…”

  “I’m already in this far,” I reminded him.

  His expression tightened, and I noticed the broken skin around his left eye. It was still a little swollen from his bout in the alley, but I wasn’t going to bring it up.

  “I guess you could say he’s become some kind of vigilante, taking the law into his own hands.” He paused, leaning back on the bed. “Sometimes he goes out at night, looking to pick fights with drunks or thugs or whatever. He gets some kind of a high off it, like it’s his duty to teach them a lesson.”

  “Wait.” I leaned forward, my face serious. “Cole thinks he’s Batman?”

  That got a grin out of him. “Yeah, he says he’s doing the world a favor by using his speed to keep these guys down. He doesn’t get that it’s wrong.”

  “So, why doesn’t someone say something to him?” I played with the lace at my hem. “Someone other than me, because I’ve already tried to tackle him once tonight.”

  “You tackled him?”

  “Tried to,” I corrected, holding up my scraped elbow as evidence. “Didn’t go over well.”

  He put his face in his hands. “Do you have any concept of self-preservation at all?”

  “Not really.” I shrugged, crossing my legs the other way. “But go on.”

  “Well, to answer your question, I did say something.” He looked up, tracing the scar along his jaw. “About a month ago, Cole talked me into going with him on one of his runs. I know I shouldn’t have been curious about the whole thing, but I wanted to see what he’d been up to every night. It didn’t even seem that bad until I started having flashbacks.”

  I sat perfectly still while I listened, afraid even the slightest movement would cause him to clam up.

  His lips formed a thin line, and he hesitated a moment before going on with the story. “Cole was scaring the shit out of this car thief—taunting him, disappearing, throwing sucker punches out of nowhere—but I kept seeing Roman. The way his anger melted into terror at the last second. The helpless look in his eyes right before I connected. It was too much. I couldn’t take it.

  “I jumped in, threw Cole off the guy, and told him that was enough. He told me to stay out of it, so I threatened to turn him in if he didn’t stop. That didn’t go over well.”

  Yeesh.

  “He threw everything back in my face, saying I owed him.” Wallace rubbed at his shoulder, rolling his arm back and forth. “And you know, maybe I do, but not like that.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “We got into a fight that ended in a stalemate, and we went our separate ways. When he started calling again, I figured he just wanted to finish what we started.”

  “And now you have to help because of me,” I said in a grim tone, lowering my gaze to the floor.

  “Hey…”

  I heard the springs whine as he got up and crossed the distance between us. “I should’ve taken the threat seriously to begin with. Besides, he would’ve found a way with or without you. You know that, right?”

  I didn’t look up as the mattress shifted beside me.

  “I’m serious,” he added. “He would’ve found someone at random, and it would’ve ended a lot worse.”

  I jerked my chin back. “Excuse me?”

  “Not everyone is as strong willed as you are.” His voice softened as he braced himself behind me, leaning in. “That kind of situation would’ve broken most people.”

  “Well.” I looked up, and my heart stopped beating. “I’m not most people.”

  His heady scent was all around me. It was like a spell had been cast, stilling my nerves, and entrancing my mind. I leaned closer still.

  “I know.” The husky tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit down on my lip.

  He lifted his hand to tuck an unruly strand behind my ear, but hesitated at the last moment. I could practically feel the heat from his fingertips, less than a caress away from my cheek; it was enough to push me over the edge.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, sliding my hand over his.

  Everything faded away as he watched me, eyes dar
kening. “No.”

  I pressed my cheek against his hand, forcing him to touch me. “Please.” The word lingered between us and brought me to an aching realization.

  Our friendship was about to change forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I can’t,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I held his gaze as blood pounded in my ears, amplifying the erratic pulse of my heartbeat. “Why not?”

  “You know why.” He swallowed, pain bracketing his features. In one swift motion, he pushed himself to his feet and forced distance between us. “I just can’t.”

  The spell had been broken. Again.

  I smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in my nightgown and drew a ragged breath. My breasts were tight, too tight, burning with an ache I couldn’t even begin to address. The whole thing was mortifying.

  Not only had I practically begged to have my skull crushed, but I’d made myself sound sickeningly desperate in the process. Ugh. It was his fault for staring at me, all gentle and tortured-like. I just wanted the guy to feel normal for a moment. Was that so wrong?

  I looked up from beneath the shield of my lashes. He didn’t seem much better off than I was. Redness stained his cagey expression as he stared up at the tiny, ground level window. It had stopped raining again.

  He cleared his throat. “I, uh, left something in the truck.”

  Like hell he did. He just wanted to get away from me—not that I could blame him. I’d made things awkward between us. That cool, low-key vibe we had going was ruined now. I opened my mouth to speak but something stopped me.

  The tent in his pants.

  My jaw dropped, and I looked away. “O-Okay, well, I…uh, I should go upstairs and help, anyway.”

  He made for the stairs, taking extra-long strides. “Sounds good.” Not once did he slow, taking the steps two or three at a time.

  When the door finally shut, I let out a deep breath and stood. Well, this complicates things.

  By the time I wandered into the kitchen, Clara was beaming. “Why, hello!”

  “Hey,” I greeted her, taking in the scent of frying grease. “Need any help?”

  “Actually, I was just about to call for everyone.” She opened up a cabinet and reached for three plates. “It’s nothing fancy, but you kids need to eat.”

  I peeked at the stovetop. Mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and pan-fried chicken. A bead of drool formed at the corner of my mouth, and I hastily wiped it away. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Help yourself.” She passed me a plate. “The boys will catch up.”

  I loved this woman.

  No one had to tell me twice. I filled my plate and took a seat at the table, bowing my head in silent grace. “Thank you.”

  Her eyes were alight with amusement. “No trouble at all, dear.” She set napkins and silverware on the table. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, water, pop—”

  “Water, please.” I cut into my chicken with starved enthusiasm. It smelled so good.

  She set the glass down in front of me, before taking a seat to my left. “So…”

  I stabbed at a piece, nearly whimpering as juice seeped out around the edges. Hunger took the forefront of my mind, and I brought the fork to my lips. Dear, sweet, beautiful free meal.

  “How’d it go downstairs?” she asked.

  The chicken fell out of my mouth.

  I coughed and brought a hand to my chest, dropping the fork to grab my water.

  “Sorry…” I tilted the glass back and took a big swig, praying I hadn’t blushed.

  “Are you all right?” She couldn’t stifle a grin.

  Geez, that was really comforting. Didn’t she care that I almost choked? No, I realized. That wasn’t it.

  I eyed her, setting the glass down. She knew. That sneaky, old woman knew. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I guess it was still a little hot.”

  She folded her hands on the table. “Now, now…it’s not as if I wanted to be made aware of such things. He is my grandson after all.”

  I winced. “I’m not going to lie to you, Clara. That’s awkward.”

  Cole, no stranger to debauchery, swept in through the back door wearing a smirk. “What’s awkward?”

  “Nothing, sweetie.” She waved him off. “Hurry up and get that chicken before it sticks.”

  He shrugged and set to work filling his plate.

  This wasn’t happening.

  She threw me a quick wink while his back was turned. Ugh. As if I hadn’t had enough harrowing experiences tonight, now Wallace’s grandmother was teasing me? My memoirs were going to be so messed up.

  “Where’s Wallace?” Cole plopped down beside me, his posture exuding a casualness he didn’t deserve. Seriously. He’d held me hostage a few hours ago. Why were we overlooking that?

  Clara waggled her eyebrows, and I jumped in, “He had to get something outside.”

  “Oh.” Cole slouched, cutting into his chicken. Not even a second later, he perked up, turning to his grandmother. “Hey, can we have pancakes tomorrow?”

  I wanted to slam my head on the table.

  They started talking, and I stared down at my plate. Things were going to be weird now. What if I’d just imagined the Wallace thing? I knew Clara had caught on to the situation, but was she referring to him or me?

  I picked up my fork and speared a few green beans. No, I hadn’t imagined anything. He’d definitely been aroused. There was no hiding an erection of that magnitude. I squirmed and crossed my legs just thinking about it. Screeeeeech!

  My fork scraped against the plate, and they both turned to stare at me. “Sorry…”

  Clara cackled as the living room door swung open and Wallace trudged inside, looking less than happy. Perfect timing. He kicked his boots off and breezed through the kitchen. “Smells good,” he commented, making a beeline for the counter.

  “I’m sure you worked up an appetite.” Clara smiled that sweet, grandmotherly smile, but I knew what was behind it. Pure freakin’ mischief. I wanted to crawl underneath the table.

  After we cleared away the dishes, she approached me. “You can sleep in my bed, sweetie. I’ll take the couch tonight.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t impose like that,” I said. “The couch is fine, really.” Like I was going to kick an old lady out of her bed. Who could sleep after that?

  Cole, probably.

  She clutched a hand to her chest. “I wouldn’t think of having a guest sleep on the couch.”

  “She can sleep in my bed,” Wallace interjected in a tired voice, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “You can’t fit on the couch,” I blurted out, remembering the night he’d spent in a desk chair.

  “Is this the part where I’m supposed to offer my bed?” Cole asked, chuckling as he leaned against the wall. “How long is this dance going to go on? I gotta get up early.”

  Clara pressed her lips together. “That’s very gracious of you, Nicholas. I always knew, deep down, you were a gentleman.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Wait. What?”

  “I’ll get you some blankets.” She padded down the hall, toward what I assumed to be a linen closet. “Rena will sleep in your bed tonight.”

  Cole went off on a predictable tirade, and I tuned him out. I had other things to worry about, like why Wallace’s shoulders had slumped at the news. Was it that much of an inconvenience to share a room with me? It wasn’t like he had to sleep at his desk again.

  I crossed my arms, more than a little homesick for my own bed. Speaking of which, had Gabby found my note yet? I needed to call her. She probably thought I’d been abducted or something.

  Which wasn’t too far off the mark.

  Unfortunately, my phone was still on Clara’s dresser, along with whatever else had been left inside the pockets of my wet jeans. I didn’t want to barge back there, like I owned the place.

  I nudged Wallace, still a little uncomfortable with his changed demeanor. “Hey, can I borrow
your phone? Gabby might freak when I don’t show up tonight.”

  “It broke earlier,” he replied without bothering to look down. “Sorry.”

  “D’you break it after you got my text message?” Cole teased, flashing a wide grin.

  Wallace shot a murderous look over his shoulder, and I cringed. I wanted to apologize for the remark, and I hadn’t even been the one to say it.

  “Boys,” Clara scolded, draping a thick, yellow quilt over the couch. “That’s enough.”

  When had I drifted into this weird, alternate universe? Better yet, when had I acclimated to it? I was about to ask about my phone, when something rubbed against my leg. “Gah!” I jumped back.

  “Reooooow!”

  Where the hell did the cat come from? And why did it sound broken?

  “Brutus!” Clara threw a pillow on the couch and bent to scoop the pudgy feline into her arms. “You’ve been hiding from company, silly boy.”

  The gray mound of fur purred, nuzzling against her. “Reeoow.”

  I took a step back. It wasn’t that I hated cats, but…yeah, I hated cats. They were possessive, spiteful, sneaky little creatures. It’d probably come to maim the outsider.

  “Well, I guess this’ll work.” Cole walked over and collapsed onto the couch, stretching his legs over the end. “That bed was the only thing I left behind anyway. It’s not like it’s mine anymore.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered on reflex, hating the fact that I’d acknowledged him at all.

  “I believe your cell phone is still in my room, Rena.” Clara held up the cat’s paw, waving it at me.

  I brightened, having forgotten about my phone during the cat-scare. “Oh, yeah, I’ll get that now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Go right on ahead, dear. I’m right behind you. It’s way past this old woman’s bedtime, anyway.” She yawned and looked around, probably making sure everything was turned off. “Good night, boys.”

  “Night,” they murmured in unison.

  I started down the hall and glanced over my shoulder. Wallace had taken up the rear, headed toward the basement. That is, until Cole caught his arm.

  “Just a moment, brother. I’d like to have a word.”