Page 60 of Honorable Convictions
Overwhelmed by the kindness of RK Conley, Pierson had to know where he stood and when he’d have to report to Vegas. “Is ten too early?”
“Nope,” Conley said. Mitchell returned to the apartment with a few feet separating them, wearing such a complete “What the fuck?” expression on his face that Pierson nearly laughed. Conley gave him the address he’d need to make his appointment, which he didn’t have to write down since he’d already memorized it.
“Great, thanks, RK. I appreciate it.”
“Have a good night.”
“You too,” Pierson responded, then pulled the phone away from his ear and was glad Conley disconnected before he had to figure out if it was polite or correct for him to hang up on his leader.
“RK?”
“Yeah, I’ve a meeting at their condo tomorrow.”
“Good, you ready to go now?”
“A little anxious, are we?”
“Yeah, come on.”
Ignoring his mate to pull up the picture he’d texted, he waved him off as he teleported away again. A second later, Pierson slipped his phone into his pocket and closed his eyes. After using the simple skill given at his resurrection, he lifted his lashes and was standing in the foyer of his new home, which had slate gray walls and light wooden floors.
Mitchell kissed him. “Ready for the grand tour?”
“Sure.”
Grabbing his hand, Mitchell laced their fingers. There was anticipation, excitement, and concern in his blue eyes, which had Pierson automatically giving his palm a squeeze of reassurance. “I bought this place in 1961 when I was transferred to Vegas,” Mitchell explained, leading him into a room with tons of sunlight that was partially blocked by roman shades and curtains the same color as the walls. There were built-in cabinets and shelves that took up a full wall. In the center of it was a largish television with a green velvet couch facing it. Around it were chairs upholstered in a similar fabric but in a rich blue.
Throw pillows were scattered around on the soft surfaces, and although none of them were alike, the overall effect was harmonious. Mitchell hadn’t stuck with just those two colors either; there were yellows, turquoise, black, and too many others for Pierson to name. Under the furniture was a throw rug that was also vivid with hues that managed to pull it all together.
Behind the living space was a dining area that had a long table in a nearly identical tone as the floor with seats in the vivid cobalt of the accent chairs. A low, flat bowl sat in the center of the slab of wood, filled with ceramic balls in varying shades of silver and black. Pierson barely had time to take note of another carpet that was tamer than the first as Mitchell pulled him forward.
“I can’t wait for you to see the kitchen. I hope you like it,” Mitchell coaxed.
Pierson huffed out a breath of pure bliss once he passed the sofa. To the left was what appeared to be acres of white countertops with gray veining. The cabinetry was white except for an enormous island that was a beautiful contrast in blue with padded stools in a deep emerald. Pendant lights gleamed above its shiny surface, and Pierson got close enough to run a hand across the stone. “This is gorgeous. How do you have such a nice kitchen when you don’t cook?”
“I’m rather embarrassed to admit that most of the cabinets are empty. I mostly ate out. What do you think of the place so far?”
“Relax, Mitch. I love it,” Pierson responded softly, releasing his mate to explore. As Mitchell had said, there was plenty of empty space, which Pierson would be happy to remedy. In the living area, he noticed the sleek frames on the shelving unit. “There are pictures of me in here.”
“You’re my mate.”
Carefully lifting one that was an image of himself receiving the prestigious Fallen Knight of the Year award he’d earned, Pierson was incredulous. It was more than a decade ago, but he was still the first and only Juris Knight to have obtained the honor. “Did you take this?”
“Of course I did. I was so damn proud of you,” Mitchell remarked, walking over, and rubbing Pierson’s back.
“Do you have any idea how often you overwhelm me?”
“Look at this one,” Mitchell instructed, setting down the frame Pierson had picked up and handing him an older shot taken the day they became Juris Knights.
“I remember wanting to get as far away from you as possible and yet at the same time being so damn sad that we’d be in different cities. I accused you of wanting to be with me to get DC.”
“I know, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I was upset and confused. I don’t think I ever really thought that. I—”
“Pierce,” Mitchell said. Taking the picture out of his hands, Mitchell returned it to the shelf. “I didn’t show you that to bring up old shit. I thought you might enjoy seeing us looking younger.”
“We don’t physically age.”
