Page 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Caleb

The basement wasn't a place they frequented often, despite the fact that Elias had the space fully finished and furnished, much like the rest of the house. Caleb swept his gaze over the motley crew and ran through a mental checklist of host duties. It was the absolute strangest dinner party ever, but he prided himself on being a master event planner and that extended to… whatever this was. Dark wood and millennial grey were the predominant colors in the palette, with a few colorful splashes courtesy of Caleb himself. The salmon throw pillows brought a little life to the hyper-masculine atmosphere, and the pale pink throw blankets matched Parker’s art perfectly. The grey sectional was large enough to sleep three comfortably. Plush armchairs matched the upholstery of the sectional, and along the walls were bookshelves chock full of Elias’ massive collection. A wet bar, something they never used but diligently dusted, was stocked full of the best of the best in spite of the fact that they weren't big drinkers, and when they did drink, it was usually whiskey or wine.

The bar currently held a variety of outsourced finger foods and a cheese board because, duh, every gathering demanded a cheese board. Taz, forever predictable, huddled over the plate of spanakopita like it was the last meal he'd ever have. Luke stood vigil beside the stool Taz perched on. Bella and Lily were glued together on one end of the sectional, with Connor and Theo in mirror on the opposite side. Theo looked a little bit like death warmed over and Cay knew without even asking that his husband was gutted to see him in such a state, but the air between them was unfortunately still rife with tension. Elias and Caleb stood somewhat awkwardly in the center of the room waiting for the bombshells their guests of honor were about to deliver. The aforementioned guests had made one of the overstuffed armchairs their stage—the man apparently named Beau reclined in the chair with the air of a man who didn't have a care in the world. His “friend” stood stern beside him, tense but trying to appear otherwise as he stood in parade rest with a pissed off expression. Beau had introduced him as Terry, but the stone-faced man’s eye twitched in a way that told Caleb Terry was the last thing he wanted to be called.

Beau stretched and sprawled like a cat in the sunshine before sitting upright in the chair. “Right, let’s get into it then.”

Caleb couldn't help his eye roll. He fluttered his fingers at the collection of photos Beau had deposited on the coffee table. “Sir. You sound entirely too relaxed for someone who is about to reveal how the CIA is framing us for crimes we didn't commit.”

“Mais, what can I say? I've been waiting for this opportunity to air all the dirty laundry.” He smirked and lifted his eyes to his friend. “What do you say, Terry? You want to do the honors.”

Again, a twitch of the eye. The pale, dark-haired tank of a man eyed Beau with a sneer. There was a quiet huff, a flash of a crinkle in his nose, and another longer exhale. For a man who had yet to speak a single word, his face sure did a whole hell of a lot of talking.

Snickering, Beau leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay, okay. I'll do it. Let's start with introductions. Beau St. Pierre, former CIA Black Ops. My entire identity was off-the-books. One of them ghosts, wi? Easy to make disappear, which is exactly what they tried to do.”

He gestured to Terry with a small smile. “Enter, Thierry Martin Richelieu. You can call him Terry, though.”

“Ty.” Well, shit. Apparently the man could speak. Caleb’s brows nearly hit his hairline. The expression was a fairly unanimous one around the room.

“Right, that's what I said. Terry here, well… we were ordered to kill each other.” Beau turned in his seat and rested a palm on Ty’s chest. “Cher, get me a drink?”

Marvel of all marvels, the mute man acquiesced without even a single facial expression. If he weren't living this moment himself, Caleb would call bullshit on the entire strange spectacle.

“They put a hit on you both?” Connor shifted Theo’s body until they were both more comfortable on the sectional. Theo looked ready to fall asleep at any moment.

“Sort of. Terry, he’s former French Foreign Legion. Been working as a free agent lately. The way it went down was… CIA ordered me to take him out. They have a buddy in the German intelligence community who put the hit on me. When we stopped trying to kill each other long enough to compare notes, we realized something gone wrong along the way. We did some more digging, and here we are!” Beau waved jazz hands with a grin that was comical in the face of what he was saying.

Ever patient, Elias pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “So the CIA—our intelligence agency—is actively working with someone in the German government to have you both eliminated, and you believe that is related to what is happening to us?”

“Mais, frère, I know it is.” Beau rifled through the photos on the table to reveal snapshots Caleb hadn't seen yet. Adelaide and Chancellor Bahrenburg in Germany. Connor in the background. The second shot was a close-up of three men huddled off to the side. He stepped forward and squinted before swearing under his breath. Of course it was the punchable faces of the God damn Evans brothers, always with their hands in the pot.

“They been collecting fabricated evidence against all of ye for two years. I think, and this is an angle we been working for a minute now, they had plans. Big plans to play it like a global chess game and all you people kept messing with their curated playbook. Everything been carefully curated, slowly planted, ready for the right moment. When the time comes, when they make they move, you all get swept off the board with airtight cases against you. Espionage. Treason. Financial crimes. Assassination. You name it, they got receipts.”

“Dios mio,” Bella whispered, rocking forward to press her knuckles into her eyes. “This is loco.”

“But why? What is the reason?” Lily’s voice shook as her hand moved to rub small circles on Bell’s back.

“A coup.” Beau shrugged. He even had the audacity to grin as he accepted the drink Ty held out for him. Caleb's eyes narrowed.

“That's utter nonsense. Like, Project Runway Season Fourteen levels of bullshit.” Caleb ran a hand through his curls and scoffed.

Elias shook his head. “That’s—no. That’s insane. This is the United States. The CIA doesn't orchestrate coups on domestic soil—”

“Reckon they do, though,” Connor interjected, his arms subconsciously tightening around Theo’s body. “I were in the Situation Room enough to see shadows of it. Eli, you remember how eager the VP was to take over that night James had… y’know. Marshal Law, invoking the 25th. Shit, the Director of the CIA was right there quietly egging’em on.”

Beau pointed toward Connor and nodded his agreement. “Lover boy got it right. Ain’t gone be tanks in the street. They don't need that. All they need is to compromise the right people—install puppets in the right places—and when they ready to rock and roll, they gone manufacture a big scandal the likes of which ain’t never been seen. So big, so airtight, the public will be beggin’em to take control of the situation.”

“My mom?” Theo's voice was a barely audible whisper.

“Wi, mon ange.” Beau’s expression turned serious as he set down his drink with a hum. “Mn. She been compromised since the beginning. I'm certain of it. Don’t think she even realizes it, either.”

Caleb’s eyes snapped toward Elias. So many times, he’s heard his husband boggling over the peculiar, uncharacteristic actions of the woman he thought he knew. They’d spent countless nights talking through it, processing it, trying to find reason in actions that were utterly unreasonable. Elias’ face twisted, likely thinking the same thing as Caleb was. It made sense. It made a hell of a lot more sense than the alternative. She’d never been the villain in Elias’ story. She’d never been a woman likely to abandon her entire family and forgo her sense of morality and justice, until she suddenly was.

Taz, previously preoccupied with the pastries, suddenly broke the silence that had fallen over the room. “Well, fuck us sideways with a fucking baseball bat, I guess. A mole in the FBI. VP Evans. Speaker Evans. The highest general in the armed forces plus the German Chancellor. Oh, and let’s not forget the entire fucking CIA. While Addy sits around too fucking dumb to realize what the hell is going on. That tracks. Might as well just off myself now.”

Theo blurted, “Hey!”

Lily murmured, “Taz…”

Connor grunted.

Bella swore, “Mierda!”

Luke muttered, “Timothy.”

Not one to be left out of any group activity, Caleb lifted his palm heavenward and said, “Preach, baby!”

Elias sighed.

With a clap of his hands, Beau straightened in his chair. “Hope is not lost. We still have friends in the right places.”

“Hold up,” Connor interrupted with a dubious, flattened expression. “Reckon I'm still waiting for the reason we should trust you, all due respect.”

Beau fanned himself and grinned. “Lover boy’s the smart one—you shouldn't trust me. You're too smart for that. Same as I don't trust you, not fully. But I've put all my cards on the table, plus more I'll get to. We’re playing a rigged game here, all of us. You wash our back, we wash yours. Because at the end of the day, we’re all fucked if the other side wins.”

Ty shifted in place, his face monologuing while he remained mute. With an encouraging nod from Beau, he took a step forward as he withdrew a thumb drive from one of the million pockets of his heinously ugly, ill-fitting tactical pants. He cleared the gravel from his throat while setting the device on the top of the pile of photos.

“General Jenkins. Torah base in Surobi, Afghanistan. 2011. It is every file he stole before he went AWOL in 2015.” The man’s voice was startling for its rugged intensity and its rarity both.

“Jesus Christ, where did you get that?!” Luke bristled, his shoulders bunching up around his ears as he stared at the teeny tiny plastic device holding so much explosive potential.

“Wait… that's where—” Theo choked on his words before he could finish his sentence. Caleb felt like he was missing a very large piece of the puzzle.

“Lawrence.” Elias’ quietly uttered answer hit him like a freight train. Judging by the sickly pallor of Theo’s face, he felt it just as keenly. Lawrence, Adelaide’s late husband. Theo’s stepfather. Anna and Toby’s father. The man killed in action, whose death had sent Adelaide on her ill-fated dive into politics. The triggering event, the earthquake beneath the ocean that had them all facing the tsunami it caused today.

“Oh, fuck.” Caleb sidestepped and firmly planted his ass in the vacant armchair before gravity had her wicked way with him.

“Affirmative.” Ty shuffled his bulk around awkwardly before stepping back to his position beside Beau. “There is information there. Information you can use. And his contact details.”

Caleb was lost to a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts as he stared at the coffee table turned war room. This was so out of his league. This was above his pay grade by an exponent of a hundred. Fuck that, a thousand. Worries about campaigns and narratives and delegates and staff and Parker’s upcoming party at school seemed paltry in the face of this chaos. The laughter started as a silent shaking in his shoulders, but it was impossible to hold back. Shaking became quivering, his ragged breathing became a series of unattractive snorts, and then the dam broke. Manic, hysterical cackling akin to a hyena on cocaine fell from his lips as tears fell from his eyes. He shook his head and tore his glasses off to try and stymie the flow, laughing all the while. And then he pulled up his proverbial big boy pants and jumped to his feet.

“I'll be back with more hors d'oeuvres. And wine. Lots and lots of fucking wine.”