His fists squeezed his motorcycle’s handlebars until metal creaked and his knuckles went white.
It should have been him down there helping his family put that beast to bed, but instead he’d been stuck up there, paralyzed and watching from the sidelines like some pre-schooler afraid of his own shadow. But Wyatt wasn’t afraid. He was angry. Pissed. Furious.
Blissfully consumed with wrath.
He had been for months, ever since… he bit his tongue, unable to voice her name, even in his thoughts. A metallic bitterness burst through his mouth as he drew blood, shedding light on his emotional state. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t filled with wrath, but he didn’t give a shit. Hell, it gave him something to focus on.
The longer he watched the scene, the more his anger simmered. He was angry at Sara for betraying him. Angry at his brother Evan for not speaking out loud enough. Angry at the rest of them for taking the bait, too. Angry at the world for making him what he was today because it was their failing humanity that prompted the Syndicate to create the Deadly Seven in the first place. He didn’t ask for this shit.
But most of all, he was angry at himself; he should have seen it coming.
A fierce longing tightened his chest. All he ever wanted was a normal life, a normal family, and a woman who called bullshit on his false pretensions. But instead, he got the colossal mess that was Wyatt-fucking-Lazarus.
He revved the engine and cast one last glance at the milling mess, trying to pick up the pieces of something he had yet to fully understand. Part of him wanted to go back to the family, to rejoin the fight, and he fucking hated it. If he wasn’t fighting to keep the peace, then he was working against it, but he was so sick with fury that he couldn’t see straight. After everything, a part of him still wanted to be back with the family who weren’t strong enough to save him from that humiliation, but the other part… the bigger and louder one said they didn’t need him. They were doing fine on their own.
Two of them had now found their fated soulmates.
Wyatt would have to be blind to miss the way Griffin had fought to save his girl, or the way she ran to him like he was her world… and he knew that he’d never have that. He laughed bitterly at the irony. For the past few years he’d accused Evan of deadly envy, but it was now Wyatt feeling the everlasting burn of that sin.
Still, even if he miraculously found his soulmate, he’d never be able to commit. He’d never find true peace. As if to remind him of the fact, the scar at his throat twinged and cramped until he rubbed his finger along the thick, ropey disfigurement. He smoothed the tension away. It had been months since he’d lost the use of his voice and all he’d managed to speak was a whispered rasp. Forget Heaven, he’d never work in any prestigious restaurant again. Say goodbye to the point of his fucking hard earned Michelin Star. He couldn’t shout orders to save his life. As if anyone would hear his chicken scratch voice above the din of the kitchen. Fuck it. He was done. He kicked the asphalt, rocking the bike.
Probably got what he deserved for having faith in a woman who not only twisted the knife in his heart, but sliced it across his throat.
When the uncomfortable ache in his neck subsided, he plucked the tracker chip from the undercarriage of the Ducati and held the tiny bug-like device. He’d always known it was there. It was hard not to miss the green glow in the dark, but he hadn’t been quite ready to make a clean break from his family… until now—now the loved up family was multiplying in his absence. He dropped the tracker-bug and crushed it beneath his boot. That life was over for him. He’d never be able to trust another woman again, and the thought of being surrounded by their happiness made him sick to the stomach.
He snapped his visor down, revved the Ducati engine to its monstrous capacity, scaring the shit out of a little old biddy walking past with her grocery shopping, and then he took off in the opposite direction, not looking back.
It was time to leave Cardinal City for good.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Along with his two brothers, Griffin strode into the basement headquarters of Lazarus House, still wearing his full combat gear. He went straight for the central operations room where Flint and Sloan sat behind their laptops at the briefing table, and Mary paced the floor beside them, repeatedly flipping a dagger in her hands.
Griffin tugged his hood from his head and plucked the face mask off. Parker and Evan did the same, slowly shedding their second skin. Flint had a headset on and was listening intently to something. Sloan’s gaze was locked on her screen.
While Evan pulled out his phone, no doubt to contact Grace, Parker moved to stand behind Flint and Sloan for a better look.
“Have you heard anything?” Griffin asked them.
Flint held up his finger in a way that meant he’d be with him soon. Sloan, on the other hand, completely ignored him. And when Parker rolled his eyes dismissively and walked away, Griffin took a peek at her computer. The rage that surged and bubbled under his skin was so severe that the computers flickered, blanking out.
“Ah, bras! What was that for?” Sloan scowled at him.
“You’re playing a game,” he shot back. Unbelievable.
“That’s because there’s nothing else to do. Jeez. Take a chill pill.”
Nothing else to do. Did she mean…
“Yes. She’s fine. Liza has her and will bring her in shortly.”
He exhaled in pure relief.
Mary gave him a small smile and offered her knife. “I find keeping my hands occupied helps.”
She’d always had his back, even when he thought she didn’t. He’d been so wrong to take it out on her.
“Thank you, mama.” He tugged her in for a crushing hug, riding out the waves of sensation because he knew she missed it.
“You did good, Griff,” she murmured, then pulled away. “You saved about forty people on that train. And that was only the car in danger of coming off. If you weren’t there, and the entire train derailed, the death toll could have been in the hundreds.”
The gravity of the situation made the room feel smaller. He needed to see Lilo. It was an aching sensation that went beyond his muscles lethargy. He wouldn’t be settled until she stood before him, safe and sound in his arms. And the second he had her, he wasn’t letting go.
Mary pressed her knife into his hand. “It helps to keep your hands occupied.”
He turned the blade in his hands. She might be right.
She gently patted him on the arm and surveyed the dried blood on his face. “Are you badly injured?”
He nodded, then shook his head. It was sore, but nothing he couldn’t handle. “I’m good.”
She went to stand beside her husband, rubbing his shoulders with affection. Seeing their love only made him long for Lilo again, and his power surged, blanking out every screen in the room.
“Yeah, we need to keep you away from the tech,” Flint said and waved in the opposite direction. “Shoo. You’re disrupting the feed, and I’m listening to scanners to make sure nothing else happened.”
Parker gripped his shoulder and tugged him back. “This ability of yours is going to affect your new suit. Damn it, I’ll have to insulate it to keep the tech functional. In fact, I’ll have to insulate all of them. Come. Distract your mind while you wait.”
For the first time, Griffin noticed a dark figure inside a glass display cabinet at the corner of the room. It was a mannequin wearing a new version of their combat gear—gray, not black, and made from a slick fabric that looked both mat and glossy, depending on the angle you approached from. The hood was a familiar shape. A face guard covering the nose and mouth. It was streamlined and without seams.
That made Griffin extremely happy. The seams on his outfit sometimes irritated and rubbed the wrong way. But… if there were no seams…
“How do you get it on?” he asked.
“I’ll go into the details when everyone is here,” Parker replied. “Where is Tony, by the way?” he asked Mary.
Her
gaze darkened with disapproval. “Sleeping off a hangover.”
“It’s after lunch,” Parker scoffed. “I was hoping to discuss our progress with the Syndicate.”
“More like lack of progress, don’t you mean?” Sloan muttered, without taking her eyes from her game.
Parker stormed to Sloan and slammed her laptop lid closed, almost catching her fingers on the keyboard. “Exactly!”
“You asshole. I was in the middle of a battle.”
“You should be focused on this battle. The one where you can actually lose your life.”
Sloan screwed up her nose and slumped in her seat. But she didn’t say a word because she knew Parker was right.
“The Syndicate is dangerous, and they’re up to something,” Griffin said, trying to divert their hate filled attention from each other. “We’ve learned that they can grow clones and give them enhanced abilities. They can now, by the flick of a syringe, alter someone’s DNA and give them enhanced abilities instantly.”
“We also know that their clones—or replicates as they called them—expired after a few months of being awake.” Parker went to the central bench which also doubled as a computer screen, cleared the surface and wrote with an erasable marker: 2 month life expectancy. “And the serum was instant, but the effects were temporary. What else do we know?” He looked at them.
“They want samples of our blood,” Griffin offered and Parker wrote it down.
“Why?” Mary asked. “Can they use your blood to clone you?”
“No. Not the way they’ve taken the samples.”
“But if they got more blood, fresh from the vein?”
Parker shrugged. “It’s possible. Scientists in Japan have successfully cloned mice from a drop of blood.”
“Jesus,” Flint cursed from his corner and met Mary’s worried eyes.
“But I don’t think that’s what they’re doing.” Parker tapped the pen on the bench. “I think they don’t have enough information yet.”
“Why do you say that?” Evan walked over to join Griffin and Parker at the bench.
“Because they wanted Griffin’s blood. It seems like Evan’s one sample wasn’t enough. They could go after Evan, but they’ve stopped. They went after Griffin the instant they discovered he had powers. It’s like they’re collecting new information when they can get it.”
“They’ve been unable to replicate the initial experiment. Your biological mother did something to your DNA,” Mary said. “Maybe the Syndicate need all of you to complete the puzzle.”
An ominous thread drew all the evidence together, leaving an unanswered question hanging in the air. What would the Syndicate do if it completed the puzzle?
Parker answered: “If they get all the information they need, they could create an army of instant, powered soldiers.”
All of this talk was not helping Griffin’s nerves. Lilo was late. It was almost night. He decided to try for the knife flip option and resumed pacing the room. But instead of catching the knife, he focused his power on the metal object to raise and lower it, then spin it, and honed the finer precision part of his skill to aim the knife.
When a figure burst into the room, he dropped the knife, almost stabbing his toe through the boot.
But it was Grace, still in her green scrubs. She lowered her medical bag and wildly surveyed the room until her gaze snagged on the man she needed. Evan was poking his fingers on Sloan’s reopened keyboard, much to her chagrin. Evan looked up to catch Grace rushing toward him, barely bracing in time for her leap into his arms. He caught her legs around his waist and hugged her tight. The passionate kiss they shared was enough to make everyone in the room blush.
Behind a smirk, Parker cleared his throat loudly.
“Get a room,” Sloan mumbled, trying to angle away because Evan was still next to her.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if we do.” Evan grinned back, and carried Grace toward the exit, but she wriggled out of his hold.
“Wait,” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, Doc, I’m good.”
“That’s because Griff did most of the work,” Parker stated, eyebrow raised.
Nevertheless, she checked Evan with her hands, deftly searching his body for signs of injury. She turned to Griffin and her eyes widened.
“My goodness, Griff. Your face!”
Griffin’s fingers went to his sore forehead where it came back tacky and stained with red. It was fine.
“Come here, let me check you.”
He shook his head. “It’s not bleeding anymore. I’m fine.”
“Oh, dammit. You’re all a bunch of stupid heads—standing around casually looking like you’ve gone through an apocalypse. Just let me check you.” Grace stormed to collect her medical bag and came over to him. “Over there on the stool.”
“Go on and sit. Don’t be a stupid head, Griff,” Evan joked, giving him serious eyes.
“Fine.” It would keep him occupied until Lilo got there. Griffin moved to meet Grace at the central table and perched on a stool. He supposed his forehead was a bit sore. Perhaps that had been the crunch when Doppenger pushed him along on the street.
Grace squinted and poked and prodded around his head. “I think you fractured it,” she murmured, then said over her shoulder, “Hon, can you do me a favor and wet this?”
She handed Evan some gauze.
“Call me hon again, and I’ll do anything you want.” He gave her sultry eyes.
She snorted and refocused on Griffin, checking his pulse and shining a light in his eyes, testing for concussion. A few seconds later, Evan came back with the gauze. Grace used the damp cloth to pat and wipe down Griffin’s face.
“While you’re doing that,” Parker said, coming up to stand behind Sloan. “It might be a good idea to talk about a certain someone’s tracker being disabled.”
“Wyatt?” Mary asked, tone hardening.
Parker ran his hand over his head. “He’s gone dark.”
A frustrated rumble came from the base of Evan’s throat. “I don’t like that. Not at all.”
“None of us do, Evan.” Parker shot him a derisive look. “But we’re not making any decisions without the whole family here.”
Griffin winced at Grace’s dab to his forehead.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just testing. The swelling is mostly down. With your healing, you should be fine in no time.”
“That’s what I said,” he replied. It came off rather curtly.
Evan shoved Griffin on the shoulder. “She’s just looking out for you, bro.”
“I apologize, Grace.”
“And what about these?” she continued, unperturbed as she poked through the holes in his fighting leathers. “The skin looks grazed, but closed over and healing. You’re all damned lucky you have this fast healing skill. Still… maybe a course of antibiotics will help with a possible infection.”
“We don’t get infections.”
“Oh. That’s right.” She straightened and packed her things back into her kit. “You’re all good, then. Just eat and get some rest. Now, what about you Parker?”
He arched a challenging eyebrow at her.
Grace pursed her lips. “Have it your way. I won’t check you.” She checked her watch. “I should probably get back to the hospital. I just came to see if you were all okay.”
“You can’t stay?” Evan whined and reached for her.
She smiled softly. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Just a small appendectomy today.”
He tugged her in for another kiss. “Dinner?”
“You bet ya! Oh,” Grace said. “I almost forgot.” She went back to her medical kit and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, holding it out to Evan. “You should probably show everyone this.”
“Shit, yeah. Thanks Doc. I forgot.” Evan showed a sketch of Wyatt working in an unfamiliar restaurant. He held it out and rotated around the room so they could all take a look. “Does anyone recognize any of the other people?”
“I d
o.”
Griffin’s heart seized at the sound of Lilo’s voice, and he whirled around.
She stood in the doorway. Ruffled hair spilled around her weathered face. Small stitches lined her temple, but when her eyes landed on Griffin, she beamed. His breath hitched.
“What you talking about? What’s that?” Liza sidestepped Lilo and came into the room, commanding attention as she peered at Evan’s paper. She gave an unimpressed expression and then held up a syringe. “I’ll bet mine is better. Empty syringe from the whack-job. We can test the contents.”
“Is Doppenger awake?” Parker asked.
“Hate to be the bearer of good news, but the asshole died. Burned his insides out with this shit.” Liza threw the empty syringe vial to Parker who plucked it effortlessly out of the air.
Griffin couldn’t care less about their exchange. He wanted Lilo, and his power swelled with unchecked emotions, impatiently. More screens blacked out as he crossed the room.
“Out there,” Parker ordered Griffin, pointing to the door. “Don’t come back until you’re in control. I don’t want my equipment ruined.”
Fine with him. Griffin strode toward Lilo with laser sharp focus. He didn’t even notice Evan stepping between until he was upon them.
“You know who this is?” Evan held up the sketch to Lilo.
Griffin slammed to a halt. His mind spluttered at the man standing between him and his mate. What the hell? It took a moment to process the sudden intrusion blocking his reunion, but then the muscles rolled under his skin, tensing and tweaking, ready to let loose. With as much restraint as he could muster, he carefully placed a hand on Evan’s shoulder.
“Out. Of. My. Way,” he ground out.
Evan glanced at Griffin and must have seen murder in his eyes because he stepped back.
“Sorry.” He made an awkward face, still retreating. “I get it, bro. I’ll ask later. My bad.”
Griffin’s mouth twisted with frustration, scooped Lilo up and kept walking with only one thought replaying in his mind. He needed to be one with her.
Lilo giggled and slipped her hands around Griffin’s neck. “I missed you, too,” she murmured, then shouted back to Evan, “It’s Misha Minski’s family restaurant.”
Greed: A Superhero Romance (The Deadly Seven Book 2) Page 28