Page 41 of Captive Omega

I lower my fork for this next round of introductions. It’s conducted from the safety of the kitchen island, where I have a massive slab of marble separating me from him. And the knife. I have no hesitation in using it if someone threatens me. “Resa.”

He continues washing a plate in the sink. “Soon you’ll be gray-haired too.”

Someone at the table lets out a defeated sigh. I think it might be Garrison, but I’m not sure.

“Jokers,” Garrison mutters. “Everyone here thinks they’re jokers.”

“I was a lot like you before,” Roman continues dejectedly, sounding ground down by life. “Young. Fit. Had my whole life ahead of me. Not a hint of gray hair in sight until this place. Little did I know the shit show I was stepping into. See this?” Roman finishes washing his dish and points at a mostly bald, gray head.

Not knowing what else to do, I nod.

“Comes from one month of working here.”

What?

“Roman is our resident joker number two,” Vaughn says, catching my eye. “He’ll pull your leg until he pulls it right off. Don’t listen to him.”

“Three.” Garrison closes his newspaper and sets it aside. “Vaughn is number one. Be wary of bad jokes, filthy innuendos and acts so stupid you wonder how he made it to age twenty-six without having killed himself.”

Vaughn widens his eyes and looks so innocent I don’t buy it for a second.

Garrison nods at the other end of the table. “Frost likes to convince people he’s a selkie. Thinks it makes him mysterious. He mostly works in the field doing surveillance, so he’s not around often unless it’s for meetings. We believe all the alone time has made him unhinged.”

Garrison delivers his summary so dryly I’m not sure how serious he is.

Frost salutes me.

Garrison points at Roman. “Roman is an extremely experienced security specialist. He works full time for us. Despite what he said, those gray hairs were not the result of working with us. The rest of us are a little more serious.”

Roman nods at me.

“Except Lex. He’s our jack,” Garrison continues.

“Jack?” I echo.

“Jack-of-all-trades.” Lex, the green-haired man, takes over. “I do a little of everything around here. I help Boss Man with cases, fix whatever needs fixing, deliveries, appointments. Anything that needs doing, I get it done. I’m here most days, but sometimes I’ll spend the weekend with my girlfriend Marie, or she’ll come round to yell at me when I forget her.”

Boss Man?

He seems young to be so good at all those things. He can’t be older than twenty-five, and that’s being generous.

My pancake has to be stone cold by now, but I haven’t thought about eating in a while. “So, forgetting your girlfriend. Is that a regular occurrence?”

“Workaholic,” he explains. “Marie is too, but she doesn’t see it that way. She’s a corporate slave at a tech firm.”

Right.

Garrison pushes himself to his feet.

My hand tightens around the handle of my knife as I prepare to run.

Or stab.

He sweeps his eyes over the table. “Meeting now.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way I’ve angled my body to the door or the way I’m gripping the knife. “Help yourself to breakfast and feel free to explore the house. We’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

And they file out, waving and grinning as they go, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I stare after them.

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