Page 126 of Nemesis

“We interrupted your skinny-dipping.” My face flames.

I snap open the hoodie, ready to drag it over my head, when Kade reaches out and stops me. Two fingers, the same that tucked my hair, now just barely graze the still-visible piercing.

I just barely stop myself from reacting audibly.

“Come over early more often.” His voice is hoarse. “We can continue that interruption in a more positive note… or maybe you can join me in the water.”

My mouth dries. I step back and finish putting it on, letting the dark-gray fabric hang down to my mid-thigh. It has the same logo on it as the other one—that I still need to return to him at some point—and I frown as I pluck it away from my chest, examining the eye and the snake.

“Is this your company logo or something?”

Kade sighs. “No, my sister drew it. We used it as a fundraiser.”

“For…?”

“Her hospital bills.”

We stare at each other, and I try to decide if I need to apologize for overstepping or…

“Let’s go,” Saint shouts from downstairs.

“He has impeccable timing,” I say with a hesitant smile.

Kade returns it, and I exhale my relief. He goes to one of the locked boxes next to his clothes. I hadn’t paid much attention to them, but now he unlocks it with his thumb print and pulls a handgun.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to me.

I take it. The holster and magazine come next, along with a spare one. I slide the extra magazine into my pocket and load the weapon, checking it over. It fits nicely in my palm—it doesn’t seem like the kind of gun Kade would own, much less take with him.

“You expecting a firefight?”

“Better than to be unprepared.” He loads his own and attaches the holster to his pants. They’re the kind that go on the inside of the waistband for concealed carry, and as soon as he pulls at his shirt, it disappears from sight. “Saint?”

I think I’ve seen him with a gun. “He’s shot before.”

Kade nods. We go downstairs, and I finish fiddling with my holster. I own a similar one, so I’m not unfamiliar with it. Jace and my brother taught me to shoot when I was sixteen, and the lessons continued until I was able to master large distances with a range of weapons.

“Why do you wake up so violently?” Kade asks.

My chest tightens. “Doesn’t everyone wake up swinging?”

He snorts. “No.”

“Product of having a volatile family,” I murmur. Although that’s really only half of it. The rest comes from trauma. Saying that seems like a step in the wrong direction, though, and would only open myself up to pity.

Reese knows.

Kade and Saint can treat me like a normal person.Human.

We get downstairs, and Saint straps his weapon on. Outside, it’s practically dusk. I slept for way too long, and I don’t know how to feel about them letting me take the nap… if it can still be classified as such.

We got here in the morning. Reese was taken last night. It’s been almost a full day.

We pile into Kade’s SUV, me in front and Saint taking the backseat. He slides into the middle to see straight ahead.

“Why did you let me sleep?” I ask in a low voice.

“You needed it,” Kade replies. “And we were working with my contact to track Gabriel’s car’s movements."

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