Page 52 of From the Noblest Motives
"Should I? Not that I mind, but why?"
"You're…" Damien gave a soft huff. "Better. With people."
"Bringing the charming himbo for distraction." Shudder plastered on a faux-serious expression. "Very smart."
Damien elbowed him. "Youarecharming."
"And a himbo," Blaze muttered.
"Another set of eyes and ears," Damien added, reaching across to smack Blaze's thigh. "I'm not always sure… The way I perceive things."
He left it at that, but Shudder thought he understood. Damien's observations were keen and canny, but his paranoia could get away from him and construct possibilities that might not exist. A second opinion could help ground those tendencies. Not that his paranoia was generally a bad thing. Shudder squinted, trying to think of a time that Damien had actually been wrong.Nope. Not coming up with one.
"All right. I'm pleased to be your assistant today. It's not like we're going far. A little walk will do me good, I think." Shudder stopped to pull in a breath. "I'll need to find my hat, though."
"On the chair, Shuds." Blaze pointed to a meticulously folded pile of clothes. "Damien put stuff out for you last night. So you wouldn't lose shit."
"Oh. Thank you." This being close to tears had to stop. If he blubbered at every small kindness, he'd eventually melt into Lake Shudder.
Blaze slung an arm around him. "It's your upbringing, I know. You can't help being a slob."
This was the part where Shudder was supposed to have a snappy comeback, something bright and witty. This was how they had always communicated—everything from actual bitter insults to affectionate teasing over the years. It should've been easy. Familiar. Instead his throat closed over and he whispered, “I'm sorry."
“Shuds… that's not…" Now Blaze was whispering, too and wrapped him up tight in his arms. “I'm an asshole."
“You'reourasshole, though," Shudder managed, with his face smushed against Blaze's chest.This is nice. I could just stay here all day. But weird things were happening, and he'd promised Damien. “What are you doing today, Blazey?"
“Going to do some digging. Someplace quiet."
Ah. Blaze thought the house was wired, and he was probably right. It struck him that Cyril hadn't survived so long without being rather paranoid himself. Shudder hoped there weren't also cameras. No. Even the most paranoid man wouldn't have wanted to watch his own son… that was too disturbing a thought.
“Do you need…?" Damien gestured to his phone.
“Yes."
A quick exchange between phones and Blaze seemed to have whatever he hadn't actually asked for. Shudder wondered if he should be annoyed at the ease of communication between them, but he was only amazed at how well the nonverbal cues worked. Handy in a possibly compromised environment.
Blaze left them at the breakfast table after a kiss for each of them, which all felt so lovely and domestic that Shudder found himself blushing. Hoping for things he couldn't have again? Maybe. Especially now that he was a prison escapee. Though he'd been a fugitive for a number of years now, one with a high profile. But murder. Right. He'd never been convicted of murder before. Where he'd been merely an annoyance previously, now enforcement and federal agents would consider him dangerous.
Cyril hadn't appeared for breakfast, which left them with the adult women residents of this strange compound. Shudder's thoughts had drifted off so badly he'd missed part of the conversation. Unusual, since he enjoyed watching Damien in investigator mode.
“You're all here then, because of the children you're carrying?"
Uma patted her very pregnant belly. “That's right. I've done work for Cyril for years, but when this came up, I volunteered."
“You're all volunteers? Do you feel safe here?" Damien hesitated as all three nodded, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “And your children? You're not…"
“Mr. Hazelwood, I think you're operating under a misunderstanding." Selena smiled. “We're surrogates. Quite well-paid surrogates."
“Whose kids are they?" Shudder cringed inwardly after he'd blurted out the question.Oops. Probably should let Damien handle things. “Sorry, sorry. That's really none of my business. Ignore the idiot in the corner."
Gwyneth patted his hand. “You're always worried about the vari kids. We understand. We can't talk about the details. Contract clauses. But the babies all have good futures waiting for them."
“How do you know they're all variant children?"
Oh, good catch, Damien. Didn't even think of that.
“Did I say that?" Gwyneth put a hand to her mouth. She hadn't actually said it, to be fair. “You'd have to ask your father, Damien. We can't talk about it."
