Chapter 14

Newt

The frantic clickingof controller buttons filled the room. Sebastian and I sat side by side on his bed, facing the small television on the far wall. Just as he'd predicted, we'd both been banned from leaving the apartment, so we filled our time with games.

We'd just started a game called Cuphead. It was one of my favorites. Sebastian had never played it and expressed interest in giving it a try. I knew he only suggested it in order to spoil me. Platformers were more my preference than his, and this one was particularly difficult.

I watched his character get killed by the crying onion for the dozenth time. His ghost hovered in the air, waiting for me to revive him.

We were still on one of the beginning levels. It was only going to get harder from here, so I predicted a lot of death in our future.

Luckily, Sebastian wasn't the rage-quitting type and took each new death with a sense of humor.

"I'm losing to a vegetable. How are you so good at this?"

I kept pressing buttons, my fingers flying as my gaze stayed locked on the screen. "You need to parry more so you can build up your super-attack quicker."

"What are you two doing?"

I paused the game, my character hanging in midair, and looked over toward the door.

Damien stood in the doorway, confusion on his face as he glanced between Sebastian and the screen.

"Since when do you play video games?"

I stayed silent and let Sebastian answer the question. He still hadn't told his brother about this particular hobby. If he wanted to claim that we were only playing the game because I insisted, that would be fine.

Sebastian shrugged and toyed with his controller even though the game was paused. "They're relaxing. I don't really like the violent ones, but in this one the bullets are magic, and no one actually dies, so it's okay."

Damien nodded along as if he understood, but he still seemed confused. "Why is your character a teacup?"

"I mean..." Sebastian gestured vaguely at the screen. "It is called Cuphead."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain why it's a teacup in the first place." Damien arched a brow.

"I dunno. Why is a teacup fighting vegetables to collect their souls for the devil in order to pay off gambling debts? It's not supposed to make sense. It's just supposed to be fun."

"Wait, this game is about... No, never mind. That's not why I came up here." Damien shook his head as if clearing something from his eyes. He looked at me. "Gabe needs you downstairs. Apparently, someone came knocking on the front door asking for you. He tried to send them away, but they were insistent."

I still wasn't used to referring to Agent Long as Gabe. The man had assigned himself as the Roth brothers' personal bodyguard and was now practically living at the apartment. With me staying there as well, the two-bedroom space was feeling even more cramped than usual.

"Yeah. We'll be right down." I grabbed Sebastian's controller and set both aside before turning off the game. "Tell him we'll be there in a minute."

A minute turned into five before we were able to get Sebastian down the stairs. It was still a frustrating experience, but not as bad as it had been. The first time he had to navigate the stairs with crutches it had taken us over fifteen minutes. Sebastian still couldn't walk without help, but I appreciated any progress.

In the office below, we found an alarming sight. Agent Long had someone pinned to the wall, one hand on their throat while the other pointed a gun directly between their eyes.

"This man was demanding that I let him see you," Agent Long growled.

Frankie peered at me around Agent Long's shoulder. "Newt. Tell your attack dog to stand down. I come in peace."

I ran over and grabbed Agent Long's arm, trying to get the gun as far away from Frankie as possible. "Please, put the weapon away. That's my roommate."

Agent Long didn't budge. "That doesn't explain what he's doing here."

Both of Frankie's hands were in the air, and his eyes were so wide I could see the whites all the way around the iris.

"I've been dropping by to bring Newt stuff for weeks now."

Agent Long didn't look convinced, but Sebastian grabbed his wrist to forcibly lower the man's gun.

"Hold on for a moment. Newt, is what he said true? Has your roommate been dropping by regularly?" Sebastian asked.

There was no reason for me to be nervous. I hadn't done anything wrong, but with so many people's attention on me demanding answers, I could help but fidget on the spot.

"I mean, yeah, he has. Between work and taking care of you, I haven't had time to go home, so he's been bringing me fresh clothes and stuff like that. I always met him outside. That's why you haven't seen him until now."

"Exactly." With the gun no longer pointed at him, Frankie tried to step forward but Agent Long shoved him back against the wall. "I was worried when I hadn't heard from Newt in a few days. This is normally when I'd stop by, so I wanted to check in on him."

With a heavy sigh, Agent Long finally stored his gun back in its holster. "You're an idiot," he snapped, his brows furrowed.

Now that his life wasn't being threatened, Frankie's attitude immediately returned. His hands planted on his hips, and he glared up at the agent. "Excuse me?"

"Your friend was nearly killed just for associating with Sebastian Roth. If you've been showing up here regularly, you might be a target now as well."

"Whoa, hold up. Go back. Someone tried to kill Newt?" Immediately forgetting about Agent Long, Frankie ran to my side and gripped my hands in his own. "Is that true? Why didn't you tell me?" His face mirrored the concern in his voice.

I gripped him back and our cupped hands created a vague yin-yang symbol of contrasts. "The agents said not to talk about it with anyone else. Plus, I didn't want you to worry."

"Well, I'm definitely worried now," Frankie quipped.

Agent Long gripped Frankie by the shoulder and pushed him toward the staircase. "You should be more than just worried. Get upstairs. You're staying here for now until we can figure out if you're in danger."

Frankie had never been the type of person to obey orders, especially not ones delivered so rudely. He immediately spun around and pointed a finger in Agent Long's face. "Oh, no. You can't just boss me around because you have a gun and a badge. I have a job to do. My patients are expecting me."

Agent Long's gray eyes narrowed behind his glasses, but I couldn't tell if he was upset, suspicious, or something else entirely. Every expression on his face was equally sharp, but this one looked different than any other emotion he had shown so far.

"You have no idea the danger you've stumbled into. It's either your job or your life. Take your pick."

With a huff, Frankie tossed a wayward braid back over his shoulder. "Fine. I'll stay here. For now. But I'm going to need some stuff. I didn't come prepared for a sleepover."

"Make a list of what you need, and I'll send some people over to your place to retrieve it. Now get upstairs. There're too many windows in this office. It's not as safe down here."

Between Frankie and I, we were able to get Sebastian back upstairs in a reasonable time. I expected Agent Long to stay downstairs, where he'd spent most of his time since he'd become our bodyguard, but he followed us up to the apartment.

Despite all the times Frankie had come over to bring me things, he'd never actually seen the inside of the apartment. I'd described it to him, but I could tell the sight of the workout equipment and sparring mat taking up most of the living space still caught him by surprise.

"Well, at least there's plenty of equipment for us to use. All right, we may as well get started now."

After living with Frankie for so long, I knew exactly what he was talking about, but the others were obviously confused.

"Get started with what?" Sebastian asked as he set his crutch aside and started to lower himself into a chair.

I caught his arm before he could sit all the way down. He'd only have to get up again.

Frankie clapped his hands together and gestured at the workout equipment spread over the apartment. "Your assessment. I am a physical therapist, after all. Newt wanted my help with your recovery, so you're going to get it. Plus, while I'm walking you through some basic exercises, you can explain to me what exactly is going on and who tried to kill my roommate."

It was a lot to explain and took nearly half an hour to summarize properly. During that time, Frankie did exactly as he promised and guided Sebastian through a specialized workout routine. Most of the exercises featured slow stretching movements and isolations that worked one muscle at a time.

I rarely got to see this side of the treatment process and watched Frankie work with fascination. Frankie was careful to always keep Sebastian's leg supported so the broken bones never had to hold any weight. He also talked a lot. I was used to explaining things to patients in my own job, but this was on a whole different level.

Frankie spoke with a soft neutral tone that soothed stressed nerves but also left no room for argument. He took the time to explain each muscle they focused on, what the exercise was doing for that muscle, and how it related to Sebastian's overall recovery.

By the end, everyone had done a lot of talking, except for Agent Long. The man had taken a seat in a chair at the far side of the room and watched Sebastian's physical therapy session in silence. Yet, he didn't seem bored or uninterested. If anything, he stared at Frankie and Sebastian with more interest than I'd ever seen from him before. What was going through his head, I had no way of knowing, but he was obviously having a lot of thoughts. He kept rubbing his hand kept over his left arm, tracing invisible stripes along his sleeve like he was counting something.

I'd worked with enough patients to recognize a self-soothing habit when I saw one, but I kept that observation to myself. Agent Long was doing us a favor by staying here to protect everyone. I wasn't going to embarrass him by pointing out a moment of vulnerability.

After forty-five minutes of work, not only had we explained the entire situation to Frankie, but he'd also come up with a treatment plan for Sebastian.

"I'm already seeing a difference in the flexibility between your two legs," Frankie declared as he helped Sebastian into a chair. "You aren't moving the injured leg as much as the uninjured one, so the tendons are getting tight. It'll throw off your balance when you start walking again and will make your recovery even harder. For now, we're going to focus on maintaining flexibility and muscle strength. Once you can start putting some weight on that leg, then we'll also work on bone strength as well."

Sebastian looked tired. He'd exerted himself more in the last forty-five minutes than in the previous three weeks combined. "Don't know why you're bothering to tell me. It's not like I have a choice in the matter. If you're anything like Newt, then you're going to force me to take care of myself whether I want to or not."

When he worked, Frankie always kept his braids tied back in a loose ponytail. Now that their session was over, however, he pulled the tie free and shook out his braids with a sigh of relief. "Damn straight. Someone's got to take care of you, because it sounds like you won't take care of yourself. Mafia hits. Missing kids. Pedophile rings. You certainly like to throw yourself into danger, don't you."

Sebastian's smile held no joy. "Someone's got to. There are too many vulnerable kids out there with no one to protect them. I have the power to help, so of course I'm going to do what I can, even if it means putting myself in danger."

"Well, I approve of your intentions. Protecting people is a noble goal. Although..." Frankie frowned as he looked around the apartment and the lack of living space. "I don't approve of Newt and myself getting dragged into this mess. How long do you think this will take? I don't want to be stuck here forever."

Agent Long spoke up for the first time since stepping into the apartment. "It'll take as long as it takes, and you'll stay where you're safe until I say otherwise."

Still eyeing the apartment, Franking crossed his arms. "Someone's certainly bossy. Although, speaking of staying here, I'm only counting two bedrooms."

The sudden change in topic took me by surprise to the point where I momentarily questioned my own understanding of reality.

Just to be sure, I counted the bedrooms. Yes, there were only two.

"One for Damien and one for Sebastian. I'm sharing with Sebastian obviously. Why does that matter?"

Frankie raised an eyebrow at me, indicating that I was missing something obvious.

"So, I'm sleeping on the couch then?"

The reason for his concern suddenly hit me and I blushed in embarrassment for not recognizing the problem sooner. "Ah, no. Agent Long is sleeping on the couch."

"So where am I supposed to sleep then?"

Once he'd settled down on the couch after his physical therapy session, Sebastian's eyes started to droop. He wasn't asleep yet, but he would be soon. At first, I doubted he even heard Frankie's question, but he managed to answer with slightly slurred words.

"The couch pulls out into a sofa bed."

Frankie took a horrified step back and glared at Agent Long. "I am not sharing a bed with blond and dangerous over there. He's already pulled a gun on me once."

I shrugged, not knowing what else to do. "It's either that or sleeping on the floor. We don't have a lot of options right now. This apartment wasn't meant to hold five people."

Frankie scowled and shook his head in disgust. "Someone obviously didn't think this through before he started barking out orders." He pointed an aggressive finger in Agent Long's direction. "Well? Nothing to add? You were eager to talk when you were bossing me around, but now you've fallen silent. Say something already."

After adjusting his glasses, Agent Long looked up at Frankie and said very decisively, "I'm not blond."

All of Frankie's anger disappeared in the face of such an unexpected statement.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not blond." Agent Long pointed at his chestnut brown hair, as if we couldn't see it for ourselves. "You called me blond and dangerous, but I'm not blond."

Frankie threw his hands in the air, causing his own braided hair to sway wildly around his face. "Well, light brown and dangerous doesn't have the same ring to it. Is that really what you're choosing to focus on right now? We get told we have to share a bed, and you're protesting your hair color?"

Sebastian was half asleep on the couch, so I took his arm, helped him stand, and then guided him toward the bedroom. Frankie and the FBI agent were still arguing when I closed the door. I wasn't worried. Frankie could handle himself, and Agent Long was too much of a strict rule follower to shoot someone just for arguing with him.

I left the pair to figure out their sleeping arrangements and instead focused on taking care of my injured boyfriend. Sebastian was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and after a moment of debate, I joined him.

It was only noon, but today had already been exhausting, and the coming days weren't going to get any better. I would need all the sleep I could get.