In the end I said, “Leave Jack alone and we’ll go home together,” and believed it. Anything to keep Jack safe.
“You sound honest. All right. We’ll go home together. But to stop you from running off again . . .” Two’s arm thrust forwards.
Jack arched, sucking in a sudden breath. My heart stopped, then burst into furious life when he screamed a second later.
The rifle was at the ready without thought. “Jack!”
Two laughed and pulled his knife free of Jack’s body, bloody drops spraying through the pale moonlight. He shoved Jack so he toppled down the cement stairs to the cages.
My blood had boiled when Two killed Nine. Now, it turned to ice.
“You’re going to die, Two. I promise you.”
His laugh was joyous. Dismissive. Taunting.
I opened fire but he was already moving. Pistol in each hand, he returned the shots. His vision issues were mitigated by our proximity and the fact he was wearing NV gear. We circled the pit, exchanging shots. I wanted to get to Jack, to make sure he was still alive, but Two knew that and worked to keep me away. At least until he could be certain there would be nothing I could do to help Jack. It had always been his MO. Hurt me, then offer comfort. It made me sick to think of how often I’d fallen for it.
Of course, his other goal was to waste our ammunition, so if I wanted to continue this, I would have to close with him, where he had all the advantage.
Exactly what Nine and Seven had warned me against.
When the bullets were starting to run low, Two interspersed his shots with verbal ammunition, trying to make me reminisce about the good times with him. His mistake was believing I remembered those times fondly.
Finally Two reverted to his earlier tactic. “Come on, baby brother. Let’s agree to disagree and just go home. I promise I’ll—”
I fired and Two grunted and staggered. I moved rapidly, getting closer.
“You little shit,” Two snarled.
Another shot but he ducked this time. His movements proved I’d landed a hit, but it also sent him into what cover he could find. A pity because I was rapidly running out of bullets.
“Give up,” I advised coolly. “You’re wounded. I’m not. Time to end this.”
Two laughed. “You think a couple of grazes are going to slow me down? You’ve never beaten me. Never.” He used his words to cover his shift into the ruins beyond the pit.
There was too much open space to cross without exposing myself to whatever ammunition he had left. One last chance to flush him out. I fired my final rounds moving between each one, and yet Two still managed to locate me when I came to a stop again. Still too far back to risk rushing him.
“Last shots. I’ve been counting.”
“And you even kept your shoes on.”
Two snarled. “Just like you, but at least I’m not ashamed of my feet.”
I had no chance to respond to the taunt because it spurred Jack into action instead.
Movement from the pit and a dull silver shape arced out and flew towards Two’s position. “Ma petite erreur,” Jack shouted at the same time.
Meaning hit me almost instantaneously.
Eyes squeezed shut, intense white light flared beyond my lids even as I was moving. Two screamed, scrabbling over the broken blocks of the ruins, guiding me.
I had learned quickly when I’d first joined the group of Sugar Babies how to map a space fast while blind. How to move around and over obstacles rapidly, often fleeing for my life from one sibling or another. It was a skill I’d not let atrophy, even after I’d been given my sight. Perpetual darkness had never been something Two had had to learn to live with.
So he faltered. He stumbled and his long limbs worked against him. I followed the noises he made and closed with him.
It didn’t take long because for once, I had the biggest advantage.
I was finally fighting to kill my brother.
They didn’t let me go with Jack to the hospital. He went one way in an ambulance, sirens screaming and lights flashing, and I went the other, cuffed and locked into the back of an Office SUV. Two’s and Jack’s blood was still wet on my hands.
No one gave me any updates on Jack’s condition all the way back to Darling Harbour. Not even when they took me below ground and ushered me into a cell.
I didn’t ask. Didn’t resist. Didn’t allow myself any room to feel anything. I was back in the enemy’s stronghold with no exit strategy and no Jack. Towards dawn, I realised I didn’t even particularly care if I never left the cell again. So long as Two never got to hurt another person. So long as Jack was all right. Especially if Jack didn’t make it.
Director Tan opened the door to the cell midmorning. “Mr. Blade,” he said urbanely. “So sorry for the delay, but there were discussions to be had. I’m sure you understand.”
I stared at him, unmoving.
“Mr. Reardon is okay. He came through the surgery very well and has just arrived into our infirmary. Something about anaesthetic making him very talkative, I believe.” When that failed to move me, he added, “I’ve come to take you to see him.”
They didn’t cuff me. Tan even waved off the security detail that tried to fall in around us, murmuring assurances as he guided me along the corridor I had once fought my way down.
The infirmary was on another subterranean level. Ten beds lined two walls of a sterile room. Jack lay in the one closest to the door, Quinn in the one next in line. Between them sat Lewis, head bowed as he flicked a finger over the screen of his phone. Director Tan waited outside, letting me enter alone, although there was a large observation window in the wall and he and the medical staff all watched regardless.
“Hey,” Lewis said softly when he saw me. “He’s okay. Just sleeping off the sedatives.”
I stopped at the end of Jack’s bed. He looked peaceful, like he was simply sleeping in on a lazy morning. Black curls tangled together on the white pillow, his brown skin had lost some of its usual depth of colour, but his chest rose and fell smoothly. The need to crawl into the bed beside him was incredibly strong.
Lewis put his phone away and stood as well, looking down at his best friend, then up at me. “How are you doing?”
He sounded genuinely concerned. I had no idea how much Jack had told him about us—about me—but he was an Office asset and had to know enough to have an opinion about Ethan Blade regardless. And that opinion seemed to be favourable. A single lock deep inside clicked open.
I could only nod at him. He smiled, then moved past me and went to organise water and a towel, so I could clean up. When the dried blood was washed away, I touched Jack. He was very warm, but that was because I felt so cold.
Awareness prickled against my nerves. Looking up, I found Quinn awake and staring at me with hollow eyes in a pale face. I didn’t know him, but I had watched him. Studied him. Stalked him. The man in the bed was not the man who’d pursued Jack over the past weeks. I felt sorry that Quinn had been hurt by Two, but I couldn’t feel sorry for him. Didn’t know if I ever would.
All too soon, I was asked to leave the infirmary so the staff could tend their patients. Lewis came with me and sat in on the meetings with the directors and the director in charge. He spoke up on my behalf several times, argued points with the directors, and kept sending me hopeful smiles when the negotiations went my way.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked when it was over and I was allowed to walk alone out of the meeting room.
Lewis gave a small shrug. “I’m not sure about you yet. I mean, you’ve been one of our top priority subjects for years. But Jack trusts you. He doesn’t do that easily, so it means a lot to me.” He stopped and made sure we were alone. “But, as his best friend, I have to tell you that if you hurt him? I’m coming for you with every resource the Office can muster. Okay?”
I smiled.
“Good.” Lewis fist bumped my shoulder. “Let’s go see if he’s awake yet.”
Quinn was gone went we got to the infir
mary. He’d been released, undoubtedly only after signing a wad of non-disclosure agreements that made similar promises as Lewis’s to me if he dared speak about anything he’d experienced or seen.
Jack was sleeping. The nurse in attendance said he’d been in and out all day and assured us he would be fine. Lewis sat with me for a while, then when his yawns got so big I could see his back molars, he shuffled off, advising me to get some sleep as well.
I had been awake for over forty-eight hours by that point and tiredness was dragging at my arms and legs. I felt weary and vulnerable. I was within the clutches of the enemy.
I gave in and crawled into bed with Jack. There was a moment of resistance, but then I laid my head on his shoulder and he shifted towards me in his sleep.
And I fell asleep.
Dejana gripped the armrests of her seat as the plane wobbled in a small patch of turbulence, the silent pilot steadying the craft skilfully once they were through, allowing her to relax again. After two hectic car chases that day, she didn’t need any more excitement.
Even though she worked in incredibly dangerous circles, that was the closest she had ever come to being caught. All for one megabyte of data about a secret Australian SAS mission in India no one had ever cared about before. Which could only mean one thing. Someone—maybe the Cabal, maybe not—had decided they didn’t want anyone else knowing about how half a dozen soldiers had died on foreign soil.
But she was free now. On her way to the next safe port, where she would change identity once again and disappear. She was so relieved to have escaped she would actually do as she promised and cut Saint free of the Cabal.
The plane juddered again and Dejana tensed. “Andre, is there going to be much more turbulence?”
He didn’t answer, not even when they steadied up again.
“Andre?”
The pilot shifted in his seat but she couldn’t see anything more than the back of his dark-haired head and a gloved hand on the stick between black clad legs.
“I get it,” Dejana said soothingly. “I know I didn’t give you much notice. I promise to make it up to you. Three times your usual amount.” When all she got was more silence, she added, “Four times. Surely that’s enough to cover the inconvenience.”
“I’m sure it is.”
Dejana gasped. That wasn’t Andre’s New Zealand accent. “Who are you? Where’s Andre?”
“At home with his family,” the monotonal British voice answered. The pilot turned in his seat and pointed a giant handgun right at her. He appeared to be Middle Eastern, or South Asian, but his eyes were the white of a Sugar Baby. “The Cabal wants you to know they appreciate all the work you’ve done for them over the years, but you’ve betrayed them one too many times.”
Well, she had been close.
Bang!
Ten days after I killed Two, Jack put on his service dress uniform and after I’d pinned his medals to his chest, left for Senior Sergeant Stephanie Phelps’s funeral. He invited me to go with him, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable amongst so many law enforcement officers, nor the sergeant’s family. If I had been smarter, worked it out sooner, she wouldn’t be dead. Quite apart from my guilt, I had my own task as well.
My first voluntary visit to the Office without Jack, or nefarious reason, went well. Director Tan met with me in the underground garage and escorted me to the first subbasement, where my packages were waiting. He offered, once again, to have the remains of my sister interred in a military cemetery. An unnamed soldier, he assured me, so she received respect instead of condemnation. There was no such offer for Two, so I turned him down again.
Taking both their ashes, I went to the cemetery and picked up Jack. He was sad and troubled, partly because Dr. Adam Quinn was leaving with a tortured expression on his face. We followed him to the airport to give Jack some small measure of closure, then we returned to Middle Head.
I picked this place not because it was where I’d killed Two, but because it was special. To history, to Sydney—to Jack.
It was sunset when we reached the end of the point. Jack’s hand was a comforting pressure on the base of my spine. His own sorrow had been put aside and he was here for me.
Nine and Two weren’t the first of my siblings I’d lost. There had been thirteen in the group after I joined them. Eleven of us had survived to the final test. Six of us had made it through in order to be released into the world to do the Cabal’s bidding. I’d never been to a funeral for any of them, though.
I had also never felt this dull weight in my belly like a rock trying to pull me under an ever-shifting surface. Over the past week it had felt as if one moment I could breath and in another, I couldn’t. Guilt or grief, I wasn’t certain, but it had torn at my control. As always, Jack had been a comfort, but that old worry that I would come to rely too heavily on him had reared its head. So I’d driven instead. Long, long drives into the country, chasing a peace I’d never been able to catch.
Maybe here, at the end of the land, I’d finally find it.
Jack, seemingly reading my heart better than I did, let me walk the last few meters on my own. He held onto Two’s urn, leaving me to say my farewell to Nine alone. My sibling in every way except for blood. Given the order, she would have tried to kill me, but until that point, she had been my sister. My companion in this strange life we’d been given. My friend.
Nine had died because of me.
Me. One-three. The only one in our group who’d sworn to never kill one of the others, no matter who gave the order. I may not have broken her neck, but it was me who’d brought her here. Me who’d asked her to go against Two knowing he had the better chance. Me who’d put my own happiness ahead of her life.
Don’t be an idiot. She chose to do it.
The thought sounded so much like her it made me smile. It was true. If she hadn’t wanted to help me, she most certainly wouldn’t have. Not even for all the peppermint crisp tart in the world.
“I’m going to miss you, sister,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened. I’m sorry that you came here for me, and he killed you. I’m so incredibly sorry for what they did to you. To all of us.”
Before me, the water was darkening as the last reflected rays of the sun faded away. While there was still a touch of golden colour in the sky, I opened the urn and, as a breeze eddied around me, tipped it up.
“You spent your life in the dark, sister. Now you can be in the light.”
Nine’s ashes tumbled out and the wind caught them, carrying them out into the last of the daylight. The weight didn’t lessen as the ashes dissipated. I wasn’t sure it ever would ease. Wasn’t sure if it ever should.
Easy goodbye done, I held out a hand to Jack and he came to me, urn ready to exchange. Instead, I wound my arm around his neck. It was instinct. I hurt so I sought safe shelter. Jack’s arm was hard and secure around me, his breath warm on the cold skin of my cheek.
“Whatever you need,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.
The promise in his words rocked through me and I held on tighter. The weight shifted inside, not so it was any lighter, but it felt . . . easier to carry. Easier to do this.
I swapped the empty urn for the full one and Jack went to step away.
“Stay with me.” Just because I didn’t want to be dependent on him didn’t mean I didn’t need him. Especially now.
“Of course.” Jack moved behind me, one arm across my chest.
There were no words this time. Nothing could encompass how I felt about Two and what I felt as the one who’d killed him. I didn’t even know what I felt. Or if I should feel it all. The only thing I knew for certain was that I needed this finished. So I opened Two’s urn and set him free. It hurt, like the knife I’d stabbed into him.
“I shouldn’t . . .” Hurt. Miss him. Mourn him. “Not after everything he did.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to excuse your feelings.”
No. But it didn’t answer why I had to feel them at
all.
I dropped the urn over the cliff, wanting the last of my brother to be gone. And because carrying it back to the car felt too much, I sent Nine’s urn after it.
Both arms free, Jack held me tighter. Everything inside me was blank, or such a whirling mess all the different shades blended into black. Only when the rest of the light had bled out of the world and it matched the darkness inside could I think again.
“What do we do now, Jack?”
“Anything you want.”
The heat in his voice was like a bonfire in the dark. It licked through me like flames, banishing the cold night. The weight in my belly took on a different feel. Warmer. More insistent. Magnetic, pulling towards the man behind me. I let it guide me, let it draw my arms around his neck and press me as close to his body as I could get.
“Anything?” My voice dropped into a husky rumble.
Jack battled against a smile, but lost when I tipped his uniform hat off the back of his head. The smile was sweet but debauched, patient but expectant. Supportive but nervous. He could charm me so easily. No wonder I loved this contrary, stubborn, beautiful man.
“Hmm, but there is so much I want . . .” A home. A life I chose for myself. Freedom. But most of all—him.
And he gave me everything the moment his lips touched mine.
As always, many, many thanks to Erin McLellan, Layla Reyne and Anna Zabo for all the support and help, and May Peterson for bringing her talent to my words once again and the very patient LC Chase for another wonderful cover.
M/M Romantic Suspense
Death and the Devil Series
Where Death Meets the Devil, #1
Where Death Meets the Devil: Coda, #1.2
Bargaining with the Devil, #1.4
When the Devil Drives, #1.6
Devil in the Details, #1.8
Why the Devil Stalks Death, #2
Urban Fantasy
Night Call Series
Blood Work, #1
Dealing in Death: A Death and the Devil Extended Novella Page 17