Chapter Twenty–Nine

CHAPTER TWENTY–NINE

I brought you a plate.”

As the words registered, Apex looked up from the desk he’d been sitting at in the study for—how long had it been? He swiped the laptop’s mouse square and checked the time stamp at the lower right-hand of the screen—

An hour. He’d been staring into space for an hour.

No, not space. He’d been looking out that window over there, focused on all the snow, the security lights turning the front expanse of the big house into a kind of moonscape—

“Hello?” Mayhem waved a hand around. “You still on the planet?”

Coming to attention, Apex shook his head. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Mayhem set a load of pasta and sauce down. “The fork’s in there.”

Sure enough, said fork had been stabbed into the mound, the twists of linguini holding it in place like the tangle was a chorus of arms.

Apex rubbed his eyes, thinking, Well, if that isn’t a Hieronymus Bosch moment.

And just in time for him to try to eat.

“I’ll trade you this dinner for the laptop,” he said as he held out the unit. “Get cranking on the sync, genius. This is your part of the job—”

“We don’t have to be in such a hurry.”

He jogged the laptop in the air. “Yeah, we do.”

“I’m not worried about Remis. If that asshole comes back with a bunch of bare-knuckle reinforcements, it’s not going to be a problem.”

Apex narrowed his eyes. “This is not about you and your love life, okay? This is about the job. The timeline’s been moved up, and we need the system double tested and fully functioning by dawn. We’ll further vet it over day, so I’m sure the product works. And then we’re leaving. All three of us.”

Mayhem took the computer, but didn’t look at it. “I’m not going to rush out of here—”

“Do you want to get her killed?”

The change in the male was immediate: Mayhem was always moving, even when he was standing still. Now he was like a statue.

“I can take care of her.”

“Not against what’s coming here in forty-eight hours.” Apex focused on the steam that wafted up off the pasta, and told himself he needed to stop talking. “I can’t tell you much more than that. Just, if you care for her, you’ll get her the fuck out of here. This isn’t about the ex.”

Mayhem slowly lowered the laptop. “What the fuck is going on here.”

Pulling the fork out of the pasta, Apex turned a twist in the center of the mound of meat sauce. “The less you know, the safer you are.”

The other male dropped himself into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. When he reached toward a lineup of small carved figurines, Apex gave him a nuh-uh .

“You fiddle with those fucking bears”—he put the tight knot in his mouth—“and I’m going to feed them to you.”

Mayhem sat back in the chair, bracing his elbow on the arm, propping his chin in his hand. “She thinks we need to leave, too.”

“So follow Mahrci around down in Caldwell.” He kept eating, the stuff surprisingly good. “This was never a Tinder date. That’s not why we’re up here. Do the job, Mayhem, and then go on about your life. But I really need you to do this work.”

There was a long silence. Then the male stood up in a surge and tucked the laptop under his arm.

“I’ll get started.”

“Good, there’s a document of instructions right there for you.” As the guy turned away, Apex said, “You know, this ain’t half bad.”

He got a dismissive grunt over that shoulder.

Left on his own, Apex continued eating, watching through the archway as Mayhem opened the computer and typed one-handed. As the password that he’d been given got him into the instructions, files, and program platforms, the guy looked toward a camera mounted in the far corner, above the front door.

As he walked off out of sight, Apex glanced back to the window—

“Fuck!” he blurted as he dropped his fork onto the plate.

Callum hadn’t intended to go back over to the big house yet.

But here he was, standing on the front porch in his two-footed form, staring into the study . . . like exactly what he was: A dog locked out in the cold.

And then Apex pivoted and looked at him.

The windows of the big house were all triple-paned, the replacements engineered to look like the old ones that had no doubt not only leaked like a sieve, but been incompatible with the light protection that had been added. So with the cold wind whistling in his ears, he wasn’t able to hear the shout of surprise.

But those lips had certainly seemed to mouth fuck .

In the back of Callum’s mind, right down deep at the brain stem part, a voice that was no voice, just meaning, spoke up:

Go to your mate.

He complied with the demand because that was why he was here, wasn’t it. That was why he had come to this estate in the fall in the first place. Fate had seen fit to put him back on a track that intersected with the male who was now, at this very moment, rising up from the chair he was in. Next Apex was going to rush from the room, and run to the door and jump out into this cold, this bitter cold.

It was time Callum also did some running. And not in the opposite direction.

In three jumping strides, he was at the front door. But even with the effort, Apex was still the one who opened it.

Swallowing hard, Callum said, “You have a minute?”

Apex glanced over his shoulder. Then stepped out. “Yeah. Sure.”

As the vampire closed the door, Callum nodded at the garage. “My place?”

For a second, the other male just glanced in that direction with surprise, like it was the first time he’d noticed the building. “Yeah . . . sure.”

They walked together, the snow squeaking under their boots. When they got to the side door, Callum opened things and stepped out of the way. As Apex went through, the scent of the male took over the whole world.

And then they were going up the stairs.

Apex waited at the top, as if he had no intention of entering before he was invited. Like the old-school human myths about vampires.

“You’re always welcome,” Callum said. “In here.”

The fact that he got an arched brow in response told him more than he wanted to remember about how harsh he’d been the night before.

“Can I get you a beer?” he offered. “I already made you leave your dinner.”

“It’s okay. I ate most of it. And I’ll take the beer.”

Callum nodded and went over to his refrigerator. Taking out two Heinekens, he twisted off the tops and then approached the vampire. As soon as Apex took the bottle, the guy put the open neck to his mouth and started drinking.

“Why were you crying out there—”

Apex sputtered and choked.

“Sorry,” Callum murmured.

As the coughing subsided, Apex wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Then he lowered the bottle. “I didn’t know . . . whether you were in there or not.”

“I am. Just like the wolf is inside me now. We are one and the same.”

“So you heard what I said?”

“The sounds . . . didn’t really translate. But I know you were upset.”

“How does it work,” Apex dodged. “Somebody takes the wheel? And the other takes a back seat?”

“Something like that.” Callum stepped in closer. “Look, I want you to know . . .”

His eyes traced the features he could not, would never, forget.

“I need your help,” he said roughly.

“Anything.”

Callum turned away to the bed. Getting down on his hands and knees, he put the beer aside and pulled his suitcase out from under. The scraping sound over the bare floorboards seemed very loud, and he almost lost his steam as he confronted the top of the valise. But then he looked up at the vampire. Apex was standing there calmly, with no judgment or pity on that harsh, beautiful face. He was just waiting for whatever was needed.

As he always had been.

“I kept this . . . thing,” Callum said as he flopped the stiff fabric top open. “This . . .”

The empty suitcase had a couple of different pockets, one of which lined the back wall of the base, and the bulge in that fold of nylon made it feel as if the piece of luggage was crammed with clothes. Dirty, moldy, decaying clothes.

Baggage, indeed.

Reaching in, he took out a bundle housed in a plastic supermarket bag. And as he turned the tightly tucked twist over in his hands, he glanced across and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

“It’s okay,” Apex murmured. “Whatever it is.”

Callum unwrapped the thing. The black fabric inside, on its most basic level, was just a black nylon long-sleeved shirt—and not a big one. One that would fit a female. And it could be used for a lot of things, like running, for instance, the thin fabric moisture-wicking, whatever the fuck that meant. It could also have been appropriate for hiking, water sports, rowing.

To him, it was radioactive. Because it had been worn while he’d been defiled.

“When I left that night,” he said roughly, “I put on some clothes that were in that room. There was a stack of them, I don’t know whose they were. I took guns and ammo. I . . . didn’t know whose they were, either. But this . . . was hers. I found it wadded up behind some boots. It smelled like her and I took it because . . .”

He turned the shirt over and over in his hands. “I wanted a piece of her to remind me that I got out and she didn’t. I thought maybe I could own something of hers like she owned me when she’d had me. But it didn’t . . . it didn’t work like that. This has just been a reminder that, like so much else, I haven’t been able to let go of.”

“And now?”

“It’s time.” He nodded. Nodded again. “It’s . . . time to get rid of it. But I don’t know in what way?”

By way of answering, Apex walked over to the hearth. And when he pointed to the cold ashes, Callum thought, of course. Why hadn’t he—

“Yes,” he breathed.

With a nod, Apex knelt down on the hard stone. There was some kindling next to the stack of fresh logs, and he took the former and then layered it down with the latter. Up on the shelf, there was a box of long-stemmed matches and also a long-armed lighter. He chose the matches.

The sound of the strike was a shhhcht that seemed loud as a sneeze.

Apex’s hand was steady as he penetrated the pile with the tiny flame—which caught and did its job. Smoke curled up first, then orange tongues licked around, tasting their meal. A moment later, the fire burst to life, throwing out proper heat and light.

Apex poked it a couple of times, making sure the base kept the top stable. Then he just stared over his shoulder.

Callum rose and walked forward, the pain in his ankle nothing but an echo. Standing in front of the hearth, standing . . . next to the male who had been with him all these years, just as that female had as well . . . he became sad to the point of tears.

The two had become what he and his wolf were. Separate, yet trapped together. Inseparable, even though unalike.

Apex was nothing like that malevolent bitch.

Abruptly, Callum thought of his other side—and how much he had worried for its suffering, too. He had tried, back in the beginning, to just let the wolf part of him take over. Surely, if all he was was the background consciousness of that predator, it would be easier because the abuse had been done to another body.

The trauma had been a poison, however, infecting them both.

Just like it had gone toxic for Apex, too.

“You’re allowed to let the past go,” the vampire said on a rasp. “It’s all right.”

Callum stared into the flames, and fell into the struggle that was starting to feel familiar: He wanted to move on, but couldn’t fight the emotions, the fear, the memories, that kept him prisoner.

At least wanting to move on was a new thing. A good thing.

And he had Apex to thank for it.

“But like burning a shirt will really make a difference?” he heard himself say.

“So then just toast it because it takes up space in your suitcase.” Apex shrugged. “If there’s a larger meaning, let it come to you later. Or not at all. But you may as well start here—”

Callum’s hand flicked forward, and justlikethat, the shirt went into the hearth. There was a split second of a pause, and then came a bright flare. As the flames licked even higher, he could have sworn he saw the female’s face in them, the precise composition of her features dulled by time, the impact of his brain’s conjuring them immediate as his heart rate tripled.

And then . . .

It was gone.

The shirt and the vision.

Wiping his face with his palm, his eyesight got wavy. And wavier. And—

He started crying. Not in a discreet way, not in a manly fashion where most of the shit was kept in. He wept. Openly. Until his eyes and his lungs burned, and his throat was raw, and his brain finally went quiet.

And as the emotion was let out, he felt himself cradled in strong arms, pulled up against a solid chest. Like a young, he was gently rocked, as a broad hand stroked his back.

In the midst of his storm, he was sheltered by the male who had always been with him, even if they hadn’t been side by side.