Page 85 of A Bloom in Winter

“You’re awfully protective of him.”

“He’s the King.”

“Yes,” Whestmorel said with calculation. “But you’d think, if he were a proper leader, there would not be so many barriers to access. It does not make one feel very aligned with the throne.”

Tohr moved in very close. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here. And while you’re at it, step off that line you’re walking. Your night’s going to go a lot better as soon as you do.”

CHAPTER TWENTY–NINE

Ibrought you a plate.”

As the words registered, Apex looked up from the desk he’d been sitting at in the study for—how long had it been? He swiped the laptop’s mouse square and checked the time stamp at the lower right-hand of the screen—

An hour. He’d been staring into space for an hour.

No, not space. He’d been looking out that window over there, focused on all the snow, the security lights turning the front expanse of the big house into a kind of moonscape—

“Hello?” Mayhem waved a hand around. “You still on the planet?”

Coming to attention, Apex shook his head. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Mayhem set a load of pasta and sauce down. “The fork’s in there.”

Sure enough, said fork had been stabbed into the mound, the twists of linguini holding it in place like the tangle was a chorus of arms.

Apex rubbed his eyes, thinking,Well, if that isn’t a Hieronymus Bosch moment.

And just in time for him to try to eat.

“I’ll trade you this dinner for the laptop,” he said as he held out the unit. “Get cranking on the sync, genius. This is your part of the job—”

“We don’t have to be in such a hurry.”

He jogged the laptop in the air. “Yeah, we do.”

“I’m not worried about Remis. If that asshole comes back with a bunch of bare-knuckle reinforcements, it’s not going to be a problem.”

Apex narrowed his eyes. “This is not about you and your love life, okay? This is about the job. The timeline’s been moved up, and we need the system double tested and fully functioning by dawn. We’ll further vet it over day, so I’m sure the product works. And then we’re leaving. All three of us.”

Mayhem took the computer, but didn’t look at it. “I’m not going to rush out of here—”

“Do you want to get her killed?”

The change in the male was immediate: Mayhem was always moving, even when he was standing still. Now he was like a statue.

“I can take care of her.”

“Not against what’s coming here in forty-eight hours.” Apex focused on the steam that wafted up off the pasta, and told himself he needed to stop talking. “I can’t tell you much more than that. Just, if you care for her, you’ll get her the fuck out of here. This isn’t about the ex.”

Mayhem slowly lowered the laptop. “What the fuck is going on here.”

Pulling the fork out of the pasta, Apex turned a twist in the center of the mound of meat sauce. “The less you know, the safer you are.”

The other male dropped himself into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. When he reached toward a lineup of small carved figurines, Apex gave him anuh-uh.

“You fiddle with those fucking bears”—he put the tight knot in his mouth—“and I’m going to feed them to you.”

Mayhem sat back in the chair, bracing his elbow on the arm, propping his chin in his hand. “She thinks we need to leave, too.”

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