Page 128 of Shrapnel

“Noah, do you have all the data you’ve collected?”

“It’s all on my computer in White Sand Mesa…”

“All right, I can pull it from the Weavers system.”

Noah leveled a glare at him. “It’s protected behind a secure firewall.”

“It’s protected behind a secure firewall,” Owen mocked Noah, rolling his eyes. “Dude.”

That made Jamie smile. He liked all of Owen’s sides, but confident in his abilities Owen might be his favorite. It was a far cry from the guy who had been body shy just this morning. Owen was lovely in every way, and Jamie would enjoy making it his job to extend that confidence to every facet of Owen’s life.

“I’ll head out to Weaver Syndicate then,” Owen determined, looking back at Jamie.

Jamie nodded. “I’ll swing by our apartment to get some stuff for Elijah.”

And to get to his stashes. If there was a time for one, now was it. More than needing the stuff, he needed to see them. Touch them. Know that their presence meant he always had a ticket to freedom, a way to escape.

He would need to add to them, too. Now that Owen was in his life he had to make sure there was enough for two.

“You need to bring him in alive,” Molly warned.

“Alive doesn’t mean whole.”

Molly raised a perfectly shaped brow. “Whatever. Just be sure he can tell us what Hellfire is made of.”

Noah squeezed Elijah’s hands and stood. “I’m coming with you.”

Jamie looked down to where their hands were joined. “No. There’s no way. You’re the--”

“I’m the pissed off boyfriend,” Noah finished, dropping Elijah’s hand and stalking towards Jamie. “He’s hurt because of me. All of this is because of me, and I’ll be damned if you think I’ll just sit around while I could save him.”

There was a determination in his eyes that hid a desperation. A need to fix this. To do something. Noah was about to shatter, and he needed something to hold him together. This was better than his defeatist slump.

“Narcissist, much?” Jamie snorted, diffusing the tension in Noah’s shoulder. “Fine. You’ll go back with Owen to the Weaver Syndicate. Grant is sending guards for Elijah’s door.”

“And I’ll stay to monitor his medical progress,” Molly promised, rolling her eyes at the grateful look on all their faces. “This isn’t altruistic. The Weavers are good for business, and Grant owing me one is worth more than your appreciation.”

She sniffed imperiously, but they all saw right through it. Molly complained about being the doctor for the gangs, loudly, but she cared more than she would ever let on.

Jamie took Owen’s hand, pulling him to the back of the room for a semblance of privacy. “I need you to be careful.”

“Is that an order?”

“Does it need to be?”

Owen smiled shyly, he stood on tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on Jamie’s lips. “It’s an order from me. Be safe or I’ll leak all your fanfictions to the press.”

Jamie kissed him back, carding his fingers through his dyed strands. “You won’t get rid of me that easily, O Face.”

Then he left. He didn’t say goodbye to Elijah because this wasn’t goodbye. His walls might have been lowered, but he still had plenty of practice blocking out emotions. Right now, all he needed to focus on was finding Mateo. If he was so worried about balance, Jamie would be sure to maintain it.

What he did to one side of Mateo, he was more than happy to do to the other.

When Jamie unlocked his apartment door, he cringed at the silent judgement coming from within. It had been days since anyone had come back. Chairs were pulled out from the kitchen table and there were clothes sitting in the dryer. Jamie ignored all of this, zeroing in on his room.

He didn’t lock it when he wasn’t in the room, and his door was ajar. Kicking it open he took a moment to glance around the darkened room. There was no need to turn on a light, the light streaming through his dusty blinds was enough.

Without preamble he flipped his mattress up. Two battered looking porn magazines were sitting on top the box springs. Ignoring the first, he picked up the second and flipped through the pages until he found the key he taped between the horoscope sections. Tossing it back to the box springs he knelt under his desk, shifting the drawer forward enough he could access the lock box hidden behind it. He worked it free, inserting the key and pulling out thick stacks of cash. Jamie knew for a fact he had close to seventy thousand in small denominations in this particular stash. Not great, but enough to get him out of the country if needed.