Page 20

“You seem to be in a better mood,” Roarke says to me as I slide into the passenger seat. The pain in my ass still plans on driving my car. I feel like a toddler who has to ask Daddy permission to go somewhere specific. Considering where I plan on going next, permission won’t be granted. We’ve got a fight on the horizon.

“I am.” I clip out in annoyance, but I can’t take the smile off of my face. “I’m not a toddler, you know? I can drive us around.”

Ignoring my antics, Roarke is putting his foot down. “Seeing Zane always puts you in a good mood, or an even mood, or a content mood. Thank goodness.”

“You’re not going to let me drive, are you?” Turning sullen, I most likely look like Marcus Zane when he pouts. Roarke snickers, knowing how badly I hate having control torn away from me. “Go to Katya’s house. Please.”

I had to give it a college try.

“No.” Roarke’s tone brooks no room for argument, which is exactly why he demanded to drive. “I won’t allow you to be destructive or insane. Katya made it very clear when I was bothering her last night, if I showed up again, she was calling the police. I have friends on the force, but not that many.”

“Kat won’t call the cops on you, buddy.” Laughing like it doesn’t matter, I pat his hand. “She’ll get a restraining order on me.”

“Ez, goddamn you!” Those knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as we pull up to the security guard booth. “I want to know my niece–” Roarke shifts the conversation as his window lowers. “Hey, Bob! Long time, no see.”

Wrist raised, Bob looks down at his watch, a disbelieving smile quirking up beneath his eighties’ porn stash. “An hour and twelve minutes.” The portly security guard waves us through. “That’s a record for Master Zeitler.”

My OCD tendencies are notorious in Dominion.

“I’ll stop by in the morning with jelly donuts!” Roarke hides his rage well as the window glides back up, being cordial to the man who has manned the gate for generations.

“Roarke! I’ve had a horrible feeling about Katya. I have to see her with my own two eyes. STOP!” I order in a commanding voice that no longer sounds like Master Ez– it sounds worse, if that’s humanly possible. It’s deep and grinding, so much so that the SUV seems to navigate itself through the main gate to Crestview Drive, rolling to a stop near the gate to Katya’s driveway.

“Thank you,” sounds disturbingly polite after my panicked outburst. “I’m making sure my delivery arrived on time and in one piece.” I try to keep the satisfied smirk off my face, but it’s wicked bright.

“Oh. Oh, no!” Roarke doesn’t try to stop me, knowing it’s inevitable. “What did you do now, Ez?”

Ignoring my babysitter, I get out of the car, then amble through the already opened driveway gate. Security measures mean squat when I have the codes, keys, and wherewithal, especially when it appears the welcome mat was tossed out before my arrival.

Cursing underneath his breath, Roarke follows me up the driveway. I don’t have Marc’s sonic hearing, but I’m pretty sure Roarke said if he sees red and blue flashing lights, he’s ditching my ass, since the SUV is registered in my name.

It’s so hard to find loyal help these days.

“And there is my delivery sitting on the stoop!” I grandly announce while Roarke strings together a very impressive line of curse words. “Kat didn’t let you in? What happened? It’s three days until January, you’ll freeze to death. You should have called me or sat in your Hummer.”

Caleb is sitting on the snowy front steps, lazing actually. Seeing him in street clothes, Caleb doesn’t look lethal– he looks innocuous. His brush cut is now several inches of wavy brown hair. Those blue eyes are clear and innocent, sparking with dozens of private jokes. Beneath the facade of jeans and a hoodie is a killing machine. But Caleb’s soul is clean, his heart kind.

Those leather flip-flops just blow my mind.

Before Caleb can reply, I’m blurting out like a twit. “I’m so fucking glad you’re home. I missed the hell out of you.”

“Dude,” Caleb drawls out. “You’ve said that phrase to me every single time you’ve seen me since I came back. Seven months of acting like it’s the first time. Is the flattery because I’m doing you a favor, or because you were so wrapped up in your own shit, you forgot you saw me all those times before?”

“I-I–” I stumble over my words.

“Just screwing with ya.” Caleb’s raspy laughter gets louder as Roarke offers him a hand up to stand. Two bros just touched, and it ratcheted up the bro-ness. Feeling inadequate, I possess no bro-ness.

“I showed up this afternoon. But you must have forgotten that you promised to inform your wife I was expected.” That glare would make a lesser man piss his pants– I can’t help but cringe. “Katya said, and I quote, ‘ You’re fucking kidding me, right? ’ To which my reply was, ‘ No, Ezra sent me .’ Katya made a very unladylike sound and walked away. Since the door was left open, I took that as my invitation to enter.”

Hmm… I’m surprised Katya let Caleb in. Didn’t even argue– that worries me, as that is so unlike my stubborn wife.

“What are you doing outside if Katya invited you to stay?” Roarke looks at Caleb like he’s lost his mind, eyeing those bare toes sticking out of leather flip-flops. “My nuts are turning into icicles.”

“I so do not want to know about your nuts, man. You may work for a cocksucker, but I prefer pussy,” Caleb warns, sounding too homophobic for my tastes. “Ah, so I have to speak all politically correct around you now, Ez?”

“Um. No, I guess not,” stumbles from my numb lips. Yeah, I can’t hang with the bros.

“It wasn’t an insult.” There’s a look in Caleb’s eye but it’s gone before Dr. Zeitler activates to analyze it. “Just the truth. I don’t care about the status of Roarke’s nuts. Do you? Hey, Roarke, do you want Ezra worrying about your nuts?”

“Nope. Just want the little fellas to warm up from their current state of icicles.”

“I-I– um… I–”

“I’m just fucking with ya.” Caleb mock-punches my bicep. “I’ve probably given more blowjobs than you, thanks to my stint as a Dominion molestee.”

Stunned speechless, I snatch a look at Roarke, testing his reaction to Caleb’s revelation. Shrugging, looking sympathetic, Roarke knows more about everything than I do. I don’t know my best childhood buddy as well as I thought I did.

“Why the snow lounging? Katya kick you to the curb already?” Roarke taunts Caleb, the bro energy returning. The urge to talk about feelings and analyze details drives me, whereas the bros would rather joke and mock-punch to show affection. “Feminists aren’t real big on alpha males in their territory.”

“I spent fifteen years in the desert– I missed New York in the winter. I’m sitting out here, enjoying the starlit sky and the snow-covered ground. It’s peaceful.”

As I enter the unlocked house, my eyes dart all around. The sisters have kept the house up even though it holds bad memories for them. The marble tiled foyer with faux-gold accents is trying too hard to appear rich. Off the foyer is the entrance to the living room…

One of the last times I visited, Faith and I walked in to find Cort and Fate going at it on the living room sofa. That was the day we learned Thomas Simpson’s throat was slit at the courthouse after day-one of his trial. In the face of her sister cheating with our boyfriend, then the death of her father, Faith disappeared, turned into Syn, and we were both thrust into Ma?tre du Jeu.

This house holds bad memories for me too. Shivering like the dead just brushed by me, I concentrate on the house itself.

Straight ahead is a staircase that leads up to the second floor and the attic space. Off to the left is the formal dining room. A hallway runs parallel to the staircase, leading to the kitchen, home office, and a half bath.

Narrowing my eyes, I notice all of the rooms are devoid of any furnishings. Simpson Manor, which Katya better rename, is not a sprawling estate like Shadow Haven, or a massive castle-like complex like Whittenhower Estates. The house is more than adequate enough for Katya, the kids, a guard, and some staff.

I hate the thought of Katya being here all by herself, even for a few hours. The panic ebbed as soon as I saw Caleb lounging on the front steps. I’m beyond relieved Katya didn’t toss Caleb to the curb when he showed up. If I had warned her, she would have undoubtedly been waiting and refused him entrance.

“Hasn’t changed one bit. Last time I was in here was when Faith threw her first meeting. Faith was all, ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’ as she shouted and pounded her fists in frustration.” Voice dripping with pride, I can’t help but reminisce. “It was so cute and hot, slightly scary.”

“I just remember standing in the foyer, confused out of my mind.” Roarke’s recollections are not as favorable as mine. “Tiny teenage tyrant was so off her rocker, it was hard to take her seriously. Until, ya know…” he trails off, refusing to mention the matricide and patricide that took place at Meyers Manor.

“Syn has civilized the game.” Caleb adds, looking extremely uncomfortable. Sheepish. “Um… I hate to do this to ya, Ez.” A heavy palm scruffs at the back of his neck. “But get the fuck out, okay?”

“What? No. Why?”

“I’m not getting on Katya’s bad side, so I’m checking the security of the house and not leaving the first floor. Don’t even ask,” Roarke directs at me, then leaves the foyer, heading straight to the kitchen. No doubt testing the security alarm on the refrigerator for a cold beer.

“Listen, you gave me this job for a reason, and I’m going to do it. Katya was upset all day–”

That’s all I needed to hear. I bound toward the staircase, but Caleb is faster and stronger. His iron grip clenches around my bicep and drags me back several feet.

“Don’t. Wait ‘til I finish.” The hand releases me and I miraculously behave. “Katya was upset. But as I stayed out of her way and just helped with the heavy shit, she’s calmed. Katya nested around the house, unpacking and ordering supplies and furnishings online. We haven’t said a word to each other, but it was companionable. Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t,” comes out as a pitiful whine.

In reply, Caleb just levels me with a pointed stare. “If you go up there and Kat blames me, you’re shit out of luck. Who else will check on Katya for you? You’ve burnt all of your bridges, and no one is dumb enough to get between you and Katya. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up. Ez.” Caleb slowly and succinctly utters.

After listening to Roarke, then my son’s cryptic messages, I want to ask Caleb, “Fuck this up for whom? You or me?”

“I’ve been in a perpetual state of panic, Caleb. I just want to see Katya, see that she’s sleeping soundly, and then I will go. She won’t even know I’m here.” I try to appear innocent as I employ my soothing voice to manipulate Caleb.

“I’m not buying the shit you’re selling, Ez. But I can see how you’re willing to do whatever the fuck you want, no matter the consequences. It’s your call.” Hands raised in defeat, Caleb’s thoroughly annoyed and disappointed in me.

“But I’m warning you– I doubt Katya is asleep. Last I checked, she was reading a manuscript in bed. Wide awake ,” he stresses.

“I’ll behave,” is a promise made as I ascend the staircase.