Page 28 of Escape into the Night

Her stony expression met Bella’s with equal intensity. “I'm telling you we can't rule it out.”

“Puta madre,” Bella swore with hissed conviction.

For a moment, silence pressed in on them like a living thing, the tension a physical weight bearing mercilessly on the very air they breathed. With a sharp exhale, Abriella pushed a hand roughly through her tangled hair.

“Meanwhile, Theo is out there being hunted like a goddamn criminal while the real traitors sit pretty in their offices.”

Taz went still, deathly still, flexing his knuckles once before resuming his quiet typing. He didn't need to say anything at all—they all felt it. The helpless rage of knowing someone they cared about was being used as a scapegoat and running scared in the great unknown. Even greater than the rage was the fear. She'd fought corruption, she'd fought battles, she'd fought hand to hand in darkened streets to take down enemies with faces, motives, guilt. This was greater than all that combined. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she grappled with the real and present paranoia that they might be too late.

Abruptly, Marissa pushed to her feet and snapped her suit jacket straight with a no-nonsense efficiency that snapped them all to attention.

“Well, we aren't going to sit around on our asses waiting for the answers to come to us. Taz, I want you running every single back door channel you can get your hands on. I don't care what rules you need to bend to do it. I want names. Luke, touch base with Homeland. See if there are any coded messages from foreign entities we can tie this to.”

Marissa and Abriella's eyes met in perfect synchronization. “And you're going to Elias Cohen-Williams.”

She blinked once. “Pardon?”

“Elias is about to become the biggest target in the entire country… world, really. I'll be screwed seven ways to Sunday if I don't put someone I trust implicitly on his ass.”

Abriella expelled a weighty sigh. “Si. Fine. I'm not just babysitting, though. I want updates. I want answers.”

“And we’ll get them.” Marissa nodded, a single sharp, jerky movement. “I'll make sure all of you have a sat-phone.”

As the group dispersed, Abriella took a moment to calm herself, familiar prayers to angels and saints filtering through her mind as she gripped the edge of the table. The cool metal was strangely soothing, grounding her despite the residual tension in her muscles and the simmering anger rippling beneath the surface of her skin. She needed to keep her head in the game for all of them. With that, she pushed herself upright, smoothed her palms over her blouse, and exhaled a measured breath. She had a presidential candidate to protect. God help anyone who tried to get in her way.

Chapter Sixteen

Luke

Cominghomeattheend of a long day was always a special feeling, but tonight, it carried a deeper solace that eased the ache in Luke’s chest. Stepping into the controlled chaos of the Gendry home was always an experience. Their beautiful disaster was a work in progress, just like every single person who found a home under its roof. The familiar scents of sawdust and paint greeted Luke as he stepped through the door, the lull of quiet conversation easing the ominous silence that the lack of electricity had blanketed the city under. No persistent hum of power, no television playing in the background, no music filtering through the half-finished walls from elsewhere in the house. It was an odd but wholesome comfort, the flicker of candles illuminating his path as he went in search of his family.

Dad was missing, of course. Luke sighed at the reminder as he rounded the corner to find his brothers gathered in the kitchen. Lance had taken over in his absence. The gas stove top was full of pots and pans, presumably filled to the brim with ingredients he needed to cook off before they went bad without refrigeration. The canning jars lining the far counter were waiting for whateverdelicious concoctions he was busy making. Luke guessed by the aromas that soup and tomato sauce would become staples of their shared dinners over the next few days. Lance was keeping himself busy chopping something by the glow of a pillar candle. Liam and Leon laughed over something as they conspired over the pots on the stove.

“Heya. Taz make it home?” Luke dropped his bag on the corner of the large banquet table and poached a carrot from the pile Lance had already cut into long, thin strips.

“That he did, Lu-Lu. Tommy dropped him about an hour ago. Nice boy, that Tommy is.” Leon held up a wooden spoon in silent invitation, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he flicked his eyes once toward Lance, suspiciously rosy around the ears at the mention of Tommy. Luke rolled his eyes as he eagerly stepped forward to sample the offering—minestrone. He hummed his pleasure with a nod.

“Delicious. When's dinner?” Luke backpedaled toward the entryway, lingering on the threshold for a brief moment.

“Eh, thirty or so. You've got time, bro. He's upstairs.” Liam gave a knowing grin before turning back to the bubbling creations.

“Perfect. We’ll be here.” With a little knock on the frame, he slipped back into the hall and moved straight toward the stairs. He wouldn't be truly at ease until he had eyes on his troubled lover.

They'd had a rough few weeks. Taz wasn't doing well, but there was only so much Luke could push. Lord knows, the man had been pushed beyond the brink too many times in his short life, and he couldn't stop Theo’s words from running through his head every time he pondered how to best support his struggling boyfriend.“I dated him four times longer than you have, have known him even longer than that…”At the time, he had been filled with annoyance but even he had to admit to himself thatthe statements were true. They hadn't even been dating for a full year, and that short time had been scarred by the fact that the man’s own father had conspired with a crackhead to kill him in a house fire to collect the life insurance policy none of them knew he had taken out on Taz. Hell, they were still dealing with lawyers, police, and half a dozen collections agencies trying to unravel the shit show of Taz’ life. No wonder he was struggling.

Their bedroom was dark as Luke crept through the open door, the flimsy light of the moon doing little to illuminate the interior. For a brief second, Luke wondered if maybe Taz had fallen asleep, but the glow of a phone screen coming to life flooded his face with its eerie blue light before disappearing again. He knew without asking what he was checking for. It was the same burner phone he'd kept with him at all times for the last six months. The burner that everyone in their group had the number for. The burner he kept obsessively checking for word from Theo, from Connor, from anyone. Even knowing the cell towers were unreliable at best and completely useless at worst, he checked the phone in a desperate attempt to maintain control in an out of control situation.

“You should be resting, baby.”

“You should be realistic.” Taz’ quip held no bite whatsoever.

Luke crossed the carpeted floor and carefully sat beside Taz’ huddled body where he lay curled on the edge of the bed. Brody’s tail thumped softly against the mattress as he huffed a greeting before nuzzling his head deeper into Taz’ waist. He smiled at the display. Brody, the alleged veteran's support dog, was more of an emotional support for his Scrappy black cat than he’d ever been for Luke. He wasn't even a little bit mad about it either.

“You okay?” Luke settled a palm on Taz’ hip, gently squeezing before letting the weight remain there.

“Yeah. No. I don't know.” Taz clicked the phone on and off again before exhaling. “You?”

Luke thought about the question for a long time. Between work, Theo, Elias, Connor, and Taz, he really wasn't okay. Deciding to lead by example, he answered honestly. “No.”

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