Page 63 of Beyond Reason

Blood on bone.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just wait around until I maybe got news, or he maybe came home. He couldn’t have gone that far.

He didn’t even have a wallet with his own ID, he just had…

You want Marshall? Fine.

He’d told me where he was going, and I’d been too panicked to listen.

I was back at my phone before I had a chance to think. I was apparently going to call in every favor I could. I certainly hadn’t even thought about calling in my favor with Jensen, but he was the best of the best when it came to tech and hacking—if I needed someone to invade the privacy of a technically dead man, he was the one to do it.

He picked up on the third ring, and the annoyed, groggy sound of his voice coming in a low southern drawl told me I was being an asshole. “This better be good, Fetterman.”

It was late.

Late enough that it was dark outside, and probably later still where he was.

Fuck. Well.

“I’ll completely wipe your debt and the double your son owes me for that sloppy scene I cleaned if you’ll get me some information.”

There was a pause—did he know what a jackass his kid was, leaving blood all over that white rug? And did he remember that he owed me for completely scrubbing a building for him. We hadn’t traded in cash, we’d traded in favors.

In the grand scheme of things, it probably seemed like he was getting the deal of a lifetime. He had no way of knowing that I would have traded anything, given anything, to find Xavier.

The silence broke when he cleared his throat, and I heard the sound of rustling sheets. “Give me the name.”

Relief swept through my body.

“Marshall Lister."

I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of looking for Marshall’s condo earlier. Maybe it was simply the fact that we’d fought over me even suggesting he take over his life. I hadn’t thought he’d actually go back to the place that he seemed so adverse to just accept as his own.

But according to Jensen, someone had accessed Marshall’s credit cards.

Which meant that someone was probably at the condo, and all I could do was hope that he was still there, still in one piece when I punched in the access code Jensen had provided and made my way to the top floor.

I was afraid no one would answer.

I was afraid the place would be ransacked.

I was terrified to even raise my fist to knock, but after a few raps against the wood, the door jerked open.

Xavier stood there in nothing but a low slung pair of sweats with his hair rumpled like he’d been sleeping.

With his shirt off, I could see every scar on his chest—every burn mark, every birthmark. One, two, three, four bullet holes. One knife wound… all a strawberry pink like they weren’t terrifying reminders of what had happened to him before.

The first time I’d seen them, I could barely look at them. Now that he was standing in front of me again, I could barely look away.

“What the fuck, Xavier?” I finally managed to hiss the words out, and he tried to shut the door in my face as soon as I spoke.

Was it because I hadn’t come with flowers and an apology?

I wasn’t going to apologize.

He’d left.

He’d left.

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