Page 151 of The Reluctant Hero

“Not a word about his clothes,” she warns me with a soft hiss.

“So he likes cartoons? Who cares?” I glare at her. “I like pink and little bows on my underwear. You just saw the proof. Say something about it fucker, Idareyou.”

She blinks and lets out a soft sigh. “I forgot who you are for a minute. I won’t again.”

I shrug, even though I’m surprised at the barely there apology. I grudgingly return the courtesy. “Thanks for the place to stay for the night.”

Shade does not look happy to see me when she parks. How shocking.

“Amanda is going to catch some sleep in the spare room tonight and do some laundry. She can use some of my pajamas in the meantime.”

His eyes dart to me in surprise and then go cold. He studies my face and the limp that started after I totaled two vehicles. The dirt I’m still covered in. My freely bleeding wounds. All of it gets dissected.

“Come in, Amanda. I’ll put on some tea so we can talk.”

“Thanks for not making it sound like a death threat,” I mock his tone. “Can I request cyanide? I’ve heard good things, and I like almonds.”

“Fresh out,” he tells me as he wraps his arm around South to draw her close. She kisses his jaw and rubs her hand across his chest. Seeing them together makes me look away from them sharply.

“The service here is horrible,” I shake my head and pass him. I’m kind of hoping he kicks me out for both of their safety.

He doesn’t, no matter how much I tell him. And I’m too selfish to even protest.

33

Cyberhex

Jake

I speed past the office. This late in the evening, everyone will be home by now. It’s time for dinner and bed. As much as I would like to reunite with everyone, I’d rather play a little catch-up to see how Amanda’s weekend went. I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant after Gabe’s D-day.

I haven’t heard a word from any of them, which is unusual. Maybe this is a new normal, with Amanda consuming so much of our attention. Or they’ve broken through the viciously corrupt police and are preparing to shut them down. Either way, I’ll find out.

I arrive in record time. Cade’s car, some monstrosity built for speed, is filthy. He’ll complain about me leaving it a mess, but I don’t care. I did the whole team a solid and managed to avoid any men Matthias sent out to catch me. Not an easy feat. I deserve to be a little spoiled for it.

I let myself into the gate and garage without fuss. Ace’s truck and one of the SUVs are still missing. A late night at the office? It’s 21:01 now, darkness cloaking the surroundings outside. I’ll join them after my relaxation time. If they happen to come home before then, it’s no loss.

The climb to my room is made with quick steps. A shower and change of clothes later I’m ready for a little uninterrupted Amanda time.

The room on the first floor that I have set aside for her is ready for her occupation. No one knows that I’ve been busy with it. She has them all so distracted it’s easy to pass their notice.

I step inside and feel phantom tension leave my shoulders at the faint scent of her preferred laundry detergent. The bed sheets are a replica of what she currently has, with more pillows and a thick comforter. I took the liberty of making them pink since it seems to be her secret favorite color.

The clothes I’ve gotten are folded and put away in a dresser or hung in the closet. A wide-screen TV and gaming console are set up. A testament to how much time I plan on spending here with her. Movies and games clutter the bookshelf.

All things I have seen her enjoy or admire when she goes out, which is too rare. Others she has mentioned in casual, snarky conversation with Cade. With her lack of attention on me it’s laughably easy to learn about her without asking a single question.

I pace to the closet and open the lockbox inside to retrieve my spare phone. Relaxing on the bed, I take another breath of her scent and open the app for the cameras.

The opening screen is a still shot of the current conditions. My brows furrow in confusion at the jumbled mess of static. It’s on every screen.

I rewind a bit to see if I can locate the cause. A few seconds later, her room comes into view again, all the screens sparking to life as if someone had switched the on button. My breath halts in my lungs as I tap pause.

Someone trashed her place. Violently. The amount of destruction displayed in front of me fills me with anger. My hand holds the phone so tight the joints ache.

Not yet. I can’t lose it and run off half-cocked. I need to see more before I act.

Instead of rushing, I carefully close out of the window and go back a few days. Today is Monday, late afternoon. I left Friday morning.

---