13. Vortex
THIRTEEN
VORTEX
Havoc opens his apartment door and barks out, “Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?”
I can’t say I wasn’t expecting the reaction, so I hold up the six-pack of Mexican beer he likes instead of snapping back at him.
“Yeah, you did.” I have an inkling of sympathy for what he has to be feeling after Seven ran him through the wringer, though.
Even though Havoc and I aren’t exactly what I’d call friends, we have every reason to get along.
“Thought you might want a drinking buddy.”
Havoc stares at me, and I wait for the door to slam shut, but he sighs and pulls the door wider. “Fine. Only because you brought the good stuff.”
I step inside before he can change his mind. “Wouldn’t bring anything less,” I remark. I glance around. He hasn’t done much by way of decorating, but I guess he hasn’t had much time. Caleb and Seven keep him busy. The TV stand is assembled, at least, and the TV and his gaming system are hooked up.
The couch has a comforter on it, and it looks like he’s been sleeping there instead of his bed. A bunch of beer cans are littered around the couch, several of them crushed.
I also notice a few holes in the walls at about fist height.
Havoc goes back to the couch and slumps down on it. “Caleb send you to talk some sense into me?”
I shake my head, setting the beer on the coffee table and sitting down on the other side of the couch.
“Nah. Neither of us think you need any sense talked into you.” I watch him, trying to decide which angle to approach this from.
“Seven told us, vaguely, what happened. We still aren’t sure he understands how serious it was. ”
“It’s not serious,” Havoc mutters, running his hand through his hair. “I’m being a pussy.”
“Then I guess you think I was a pussy for being upset about getting a blowjob,” I say, taking one of the bottles of beer, uncapping it, and handing it to him before getting my own.
Havoc clinks his bottle against mine before he takes a long sip. I take a more moderate sip of my own. One of us will have to stay sober.
“I keep going over it in my head,” Havoc says quietly.
“I just went for it. I shoved him up against the wall, I had my hands around his wrists like they were Emily’s neck.
I…” He leans forward and presses the bottle against his forehead.
“What the fuck is wrong with me? I should have stopped myself. I could have walked down those stairs.”
I stop, trying to process what he said. “Stairs?” I ask. “I should probably emphasize how vague Seven was when we got him to talk to us.”
When we’d forced him to talk to us, because there’s no better way to describe it.
Havoc laughs quietly. “Yeah. I told him I didn’t want to talk.
I know he needed me, but I didn’t trust myself, and he shows up with his ass lubed up and…
I don’t know. He said some shit, I snapped the way I do, and the next thing I know I’m fucking him in the stairwell.
His cum is probably still on that stairwell landing. ”
I exhale slowly. That level of preparation surprises me — and worries me, too, because it means Seven is getting savvier about getting what he wants. If he went to Havoc already lubed up, knowing what kind of mood Havoc was in, he had to have known what was going to happen.
“He knows how to push our buttons,” I say, the words careful, then I remember I’m talking to fucking Havoc , not Caleb or even Seven. “He also doesn’t understand consent, or the word no, and it… It worries me.”
“Now I really sound like a fucking pussy,” Havoc complains.
He drinks more of the beer, then leans back into the couch.
“I just wanted to calm down. I almost murdered that bitch. I know Caleb has connections, but I don’t think he could make it go away if I murdered her in fucking public in front of all those witnesses. ”
“She’s lucky there were witnesses,” I mutter.
If there hadn’t been, we’d have been doing clean-up, consequences be damned.
“I’m still so angry she managed to get to him.
The fact that she felt comfortable enough to waltz into the Roi de Pique, find him, and calmly tell him that she was going to take him from us… ” I shake my head, gritting my teeth.
That never should’ve been possible. None of this should have.
Security had alerted me and Trent as soon as they’d spotted her, but we can’t check every guest who walks in through the doors.
This is my fault.
I should have realized the Lockwood agent Erica Reese described was Emily Lockwood.
“I can’t believe we owe Trent again,” Havoc suddenly says. “Wasn’t he supposed to be slimy?”
I chuckle wryly. “Every time I think I have a read on him, he goes and does something like this.” My amusement fades. “I do wish I knew what kind of ‘agreement’ they came to, though.”
“He has to know that if he does anything to hurt Seven, we’ll murder him. He knows what we did to Leon and Earl.” Havoc groans loudly. “I’d like to drag all the Lockwoods out to the desert right around now.”
I grimace, realizing that neither of us told Havoc that we don’t know whether Earl is actually dead. There’s a chance he’s alive, albeit a slim one. “We didn’t find Earl’s body,” I tell him.
Havoc sits up to glare at me. “What?”
I meet his gaze steadily. “He’s probably dead. Don’t worry about it.” Maybe we should’ve told him, but he’s not a part of that side of the business — and the less he knows, the better.
“You didn’t find his body, but he’s probably dead?
” Havoc repeats. He sets his beer bottle down on the coffee table and turns to face me.
“Did you try to track him? Did you find footprints? He was dead easy to track when I was there. He isn’t exactly an outdoorsman.
He’d have gotten a few hundred yards away, tops. ”
“I wasn’t exactly able to go back right away,” I tell him, trying to fight back my annoyance. I didn’t come here to fight with Havoc. “But he’s not a threat. If he magically shows up anywhere near Calamity, we’ll know.”
“Fuck.” Havoc stares up at the ceiling. “Fine, so Leon’s dead. Earl might be dead. We got Emily Lockwood strolling into the Roi de Pique like she owns the damn place?—”
“Yes, I get it, things suck,” I interrupt him. “I’m getting better pictures of the other Lockwoods and I will drill their faces into the security staff.”
“And meanwhile, Seven looks like he wants to cry half the time.” Havoc squeezes his eyes shut. “I should have gone to him immediately. He needed me. I rejected him because of my fucking stupid issues.”
I take a long drink of my own beer, giving myself a moment to think.
“You’re not a pussy for needing to take a few minutes to collect yourself before dealing with him.
You knew what kind of state of mind he’d be in, and you knew seeing him like that was going to make it worse,” I finally say. “You did the responsible thing.”
“I shoulda left entirely,” Havoc mutters. “Ugh, fuck all this. Are we really talking about feelings?” After a small beat, he adds, “Is Seven okay?”
“As okay as can be expected,” I reply, which we both know means not okay at all. “He will be once he sees it’s safe again.”
I hadn’t been able to blame him when he’d called out of work this morning. Even backstage, behind the scenes, he’s jumping at shadows.
“I mean, because of…” Havoc stops to finish his beer. “Whatever. All this talking is pissing me off.”
Everything pisses him off, but I’m not about to say that.
“Why don’t we hit the gym?” I suggest. “Spar a little, get some aggression out?” We haven’t had that much to drink, after all. A single beer isn’t going to get in the way of anything.
“What gym?” Havoc asks derisively. “Unless you brought workout equipment with you, there’s no gym here.”
I shrug. “We could go to a gym, or we could stick around here. As long as we don’t go in hard, we don’t need a ton of space.” His apartment doesn’t have much in it, which works to our advantage here.
I get up and grab the coffee table. “Here, let’s move it all aside. I’ll beat the shit out of you on your living room carpet.”
Havoc barks out a laugh. “You wish.” He gets up and pushes the sofa up against the wall, the same one that has the holes in the drywall.
Once we have space cleared, Havoc pulls his shirt and socks off, tosses them onto the couch, and gets into a defensive position.
“You really think you’ve got a chance against me?” Havoc taunts.
I roll my eyes. “I have better than a chance.”
But I do remember the last time we went at it in the bathroom of the Roi de Pique, and we’d been almost evenly matched.
He’s been working with Seven, and I’m not sure if he’s been sparring with anyone else in his free time.
He might’ve improved, or he might be slower from lack of practice against a more experienced opponent.
I remove my shoes and socks, leaving them by the door, then I pull my shirt off and toss it over onto the couch before stretching. The last thing I need is to get a pulled muscle from being stupid.
Havoc rolls his head from side to side. “Are we going to start, or are you all talk?”
I’m bigger than he is, but that doesn’t count for much. He can handle himself, so I don’t go easy on him. I go in for a punch right away, and while I pull it at the last second, it still would’ve hurt if he hadn’t dodged it.
Havoc laughs and goes in for an elbow jab, which I catch. I push him away, but he doesn’t even stumble, simply going in for another blow.
“Somebody’s getting slow,” Havoc says when he deflects that punch.
“Going easy on you,” I retort, going in with another punch. This one clips his shoulder.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t hinder him at all. Havoc knees me, immediately, and I only barely manage to get an arm in the way to keep him from knocking the wind out of me.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Havoc says, grinning. “Who’s your usual sparring partner? Your sister? Caleb ?”