Page 78 of The Wild Charge

Fox felt the boys close in, one on either side of them, and Maddox’s head lifted, eyes widening as he glanced between them. His Adam’s apple jerked as he swallowed. “Shit. Not you two.”

“Yes,” Tenny said, a nasty smile in his voice. “Us.”

~*~

They gave Maddox the full pat-down and bug sweep treatment outside the clubhouse, to which he made affronted noises, but tolerated. He was in their house, now, and Fox knew he wouldn’t have made the flight if at least a part of him didn’t want to be here.

Inside, the prospects had tidied, the surfaces all gleamed, and nothing incriminating had been left lying around. Maddox paused a moment, surveying faces: it was a full room. When Ghost stepped forward and introduced himself with his usual lack of charm, Maddox shrank back a little, though he accepted the offered hand. Ghost wasn’t as physically large as Candy, but where Candyman possessed a certain golden boy friendliness, Ghost was a lean wolf, every line of him unforgiving.

Then Mercy leaned over the bar and said, “Hey, there,” and everyone burst out laughing when Maddox actually jumped.

It cut the tension, at least.

“I’m not sure what I can offer you,” Maddox said, once Boomer had poured everyone drinks and they were all scattered around the tables.

Across from Maddox, Ghost tipped his head and said, “Then why did you come?”

Maddox dragged a thumb through the condensation on his glass, frowning.

“Start with what you can tell us,” Ghost said. “Why are you working in a factory with a resume like yours?”

He let out a breath so deep and harsh it sounded as if he’d been holding it in for a long, long time. He shook his head. “I applied to Austin PD. That’s where my family’s from, originally. I went in for the interview, and everything was looking good – the chief was thrilled someone with my experience was applying; we were talking task force – but, then I got a call that they’d gone another direction. Said I didn’t need to apply for any further openings in the future.”

“Shit,” Aidan muttered.

“Same thing happened in Dallas. In Houston. Little dinky-ass sheriff’s departments in BFE wouldn’t take me. I got turned away from a mall security guard job.”

Ghost whistled. “You put your old CO down as your top reference?”

“Of course. That’s thetruth. I wasn’t going tolie.” He sounded repulsed by the idea, though the lines etched around his eyes and mouth spoke of an understanding that, in reality, the truth rarely set anyone free. “I quit, I wasn’t fired.” Stress crept into his voice. “I’d never had a disciplinary action taken against me.”

“And yet,” Fox said, “clearly, your reference was talking you down so badly that no one would risk hiring you.”

Maddox slumped down a little in his seat.

“You knew too much,” Ghost said. “You were there for everything that happened with Cantrell – you got attacked in that hospital same as our boys. They let Cantrell go to prison – the sacrificial lamb to sate the media – but this means the higher-ups knew what he was up to.”

“That would mean the corruption wasn’t just about Cantrell trying to help his son,” Maddox said. “That would mean it ran deep.”

Ghost nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it means.”

Twenty-One

Reese leaned in closer to the mirror and smeared the grease paint carefully beneath his eyes.

Beside him, at the dresser in his room, Tenny dipped into the tin and smeared some across his own face: diagonal stripes rather than the raccoon mask that Reese preferred. But, for once, he didn’t make fun of the idea; no, he participated, silent and serious, in these final moments before their op.

The meeting with Maddox had run long. Ghost and the others were still talking to him, out in the common room. No one had told him what they were planning for this evening, but, apparently, Ghost found his intel worthwhile. Eden and Axelle had arrived, and been folded into the conversation, and there was much discussion about which one of the people on Luis’s list was the linchpin that would help to bring down the others.

That wasn’t any of Reese’s business. He’d been paying attention, early on. It wasn’t that hecouldn’tkeep track of all the twisted, interlaced mechanics of this enemy…but that wasn’t his area of expertise. It was so much easier to sit back and let all the talk wash over him; easier to focus on what was wanted and needed of him, here.

“Hey.” Tenny’s hand gripped him, and it was an effort to draw back from the mirror – from his own reflection. Hair pulled back in a tight bun, face painted. The grease paint made his eyelids heavy, as he blinked, and turned toward–

Toward his friend. His lover. His person.

He blinked again, and felt something inside him shift.

Strange. It had always been so easy to go inside that quiet place in his head before a mission. And here was Tenny’s hand on his arm, dragging him back out of it.

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