Page 21 of Winter's End

“I’m wounded.” A finger in his direction. “You’re wounded.

“And he’s wounded. In some ways, worse than us. Addiction is a cruel mistress.”

My heart squeezed at that admission, because didn’t I know it. I supposed I was lucky that I hadn’t inherited Matthew Balcom’s—or should I say,Matteo Banderas’—addiction genes, but Devon’s addictions had changed the course of my life for the worse.

My brother had been home for six weeks, and so far, there were no signs of drug use to speak of. I hadn’t realized how heavy the heart I was carrying around in my chest was when most of my time was spent worrying about the man. The newfound lightness was exhilarating, but I’d be lying if I saidI wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hoped that was just my bitter soul talking rather than what would become our actual reality.

My thoughts shifted to the weird exchange I had with him last night. I had invited him out to dinner with Winter and me to get to know her better, and he’d refused, saying ‘he didn’t think being around her was a good idea.’

Maybe his God-swayed brain thought polyamory was contagious.

“I hear what you’re saying, brother.”

Cam cut into my contemplative fog. I turned to catch him staring at me, those piercing blues serious and forlorn.

“Give me time. I’m not willing to lose her. I just don’t know where I fit.” He swallowed hard and broke his stare, turning around to pull at the last of the barrels.

Before he could lift the godforsaken knee-killer, I put a palm on his arm and squeezed.

“You fit with us, man. Our family.”

He didn’t say another word for the rest of the shift, and his gaze stayed lost in his own collection of doubts, resolve, and baggage.

“Travis, may I speak to you, please?”

Janet’s small form barely filled out the doorway to the staff locker room as she held her familiar leather-bound notebook between her palms.

I looked around the empty space and shrugged amicably. “Sure, Janet. What’s up?”

The woman ducked into the co-ed room and made a bee-line for the darkened corner in the back beside the entrance to the staff showers. She beckoned me over with her hand.

Confused, I stood from the bench and made my way over, stopping only when she held up her palm in the universal signal.

Instantly, her entire demeanor transformed from the prim, subservient assistant I knew to someone I didn’t recognize. Her spine straightened, her thin lips took on a grim determination, and she removed her large round glasses to look me in the eye.

“This is one of the few spots on the inside without cameras, but we’ve got to be quick. I have a location for you.”

She removed a ripped sheet of looseleaf from her notebook and crumpled it in her fist, handing it over to me as she continued to assess the room behind us.

“He’s in Carlisle tonight. Meet him at that location at ten o’clock and bring your group. He says you’ll know who.”

I looked at my watch—it was already past six, and Carlisle was over an hour away.

I swallowed hard, but nodded quickly. Ever since Winter had relayed his message at our impromptu group meeting after the wedding, we’d been waiting for Kellan’s call. I figured we’d have a couple of days to prepare, though, not merehours.

“I’ll be your point of contact between you. Never approach me; I’ll approach you. You must not share my identity with anyone. Not even your friends. I’ve worked too long and hard to get here, and we’re both dead if anyone finds out.”

Her steely dark eyes glared meaningfully through me and I took the statement for what it was. It wasn’t a threat; it didn’t need to be. We both knew the stakes.

She stepped out of the shadows and smoothed her skirt. “Thank you for signing the last of that paperwork, Travis.” Her voice was intentionally loud, for the closest camera’s benefit, I was sure.

She didn’t even turn around to look at me, playing her part perfectly as her kitten heels clacked down the hall towards the stairwell to Georgio’s office.

Fuck me.Janet, quiet, unassuming Janet, was the mole.

For how long? Was she an agent, or had the FBI turned her? I’d laugh at the ridiculous phrase if I didn’t feel trapped in the middle of a C-List version of aJames Bondmovie.

I scrutinized my memories, digging through the layers of brain matter in an attempt to remember the voice on the other side of the locker bank just two weeks ago. No part of me had considered it could have been Janet. Hopefully, Georgio was just as duped.

---