Chapter 31 - August
Monday hits like a boot to the ribs. One minute, Kate and I were tangled in bed with ice cream and plans to burn the world down together. The next, I’m back at the bunker, reviewing the last intel Grayson and Katar have collected, tracking Blackthorn’s movements and surveillance on my Glitter Bomb.
We cleared Kate’s two friends from our investigation. One has joined our team, the other remains a neutral party.
Despite my recent distractions with Kate, the Romans haven’t stopped breathing down our necks since we released dashcam footage of Blackthorn plowing his Mercedes into an oncoming car.
He tried to get his police contacts to erase the footage, but Grayson is one step ahead of them and saved copies on multiple servers and encrypted hard drives.
“Give me an update on the social media reactions to the drunk Blackthorn videos?” I ask Grayson.
He clacks away on his keyboard and brings up a screen of metrics.
Spikes in shares, thousands of comments, and trends in half a dozen suburbs in Shadow Lake.
Social media influencers running stories debating whether his DUI should be grounds for removal from his post. Too much for the Mercury order to ignore, and they ran a story debunking it.
“Every replay chips away at his untouchable image,” Grayson says. “And I’ll keep that wound open.”
Katar gets up to get a closer look at the memes spreading like wildfire. Far too many fires for the Romans to put out and conceal. “Excellent work, Code Daddy. Are these your handiwork?”
“A few.” Grayson’s devilish smile spurs Katar on.
I settle him back into his seat by patting my friend on the shoulder. “This kind of campaign doesn’t just humiliate, it sticks.”
He nods and takes the compliment without crowing. “Blackthorn will have a tough time scrubbing all of this. Every share is another nail in their coffin. We’re the ones swinging the hammer.”
Katar grins at the meme that pops up, looking every bit the devil’s apprentice. Blackthorn’s car crumpled beyond repair. The ambulance in the background. His face mid-yell. Captioned like a brilliant fucking punchline.
Katar twirls his knife over his fingers. “Here I thought you didn’t enjoy the dirty work.” He ruffles Grayson’s hair and lets his knife fly into the target board with a satisfying thud.
The kid doesn’t even flinch, he’s so used to blades zinging past his head by now.
I give him a look. “It’s not about enjoying it. We remind them we catch them anytime, anywhere, and they’ll sweat, wondering when their time strikes.”
Grayson keeps the meeting moving at a fast pace, and I can tell he has somewhere else he’d rather be. “Blackthorn’s still sniffing around your unicorn from the shadows. No obvious tail, but he hasn’t put the hunt to bed.”
Fuck. My jaw locks and aches.
Katar retrieves his knife. “Men like him don’t forget. They wait.”
He should know. Out of the three of us, he’s the most dangerous predator, the one you don’t see coming. Rebuilt to inflict bodily harm or bleed you dry until your bank account flatlines with you.
Grayson’s the ghost in the wires, and not to be underestimated. Erasing us, corrupting our adversaries, burning every digital breadcrumb before it’s cold, leaving no trail.
I’m the one who brings the Romans’ empire crashing down. Boardroom, bloodline, fucking cult. Everything rendered to ash.
Grayson twitches, eager to get back to his little pet. “That everything?”
“Yeah.” I wrap up the meeting by standing and clapping him on the shoulder. “Go on. Your dragon’s waiting.”
Katar’s nickname for Charlie’s fiery hair caught on.
Grayson tries to hide the way that lands, but the corner of his mouth tips up. My friend’s been in the dark too long and deserves something good. Katar too. We’ve all earned it.
“You’ve come this far,” I add while our hacker powers off his computer, preparing to leave his safehouse. “Don’t relapse and make me drag your ass back inside.”
“Yes, Grumpy Daddy,” Grayson quips back.
The tip of Katar’s knife dimples his forefinger. “He’s not so grumpy these days.”
I hook an arm over his shoulder, dragging him in for a huddle before he can slip away like a shadow. “You too, Grayson.”
He pushes his chair into the desk and joins us.
I bring him under my other arm. “I know I’ve been a grumpy asshole and don’t say this enough, but you’re both the best at what you do, and I wouldn’t want anyone else in the trenches beside me.”
“Sentimental, too,” Grayson mutters, pretending to squirm free.
Katar’s eyes glint with devilry. “I knew there was a heart in there, Tin Man.”
“Alright, that’s enough.” I shove off them and take my leave.
There’s a certain woman waiting at home for me. I snatch the gifts I brought her today, tucking them under my arm.
Katar calls out after me, “Next thing you know, he’ll be sending us roses with a heartfelt note.”
Grayson cracks up.
“I’m leaving before I paint your fingernails.” I flip them the bird and climb the stairs.
A twenty-minute ride takes me to her. I park blocks away, walk the rest of the distance, and enter with the key she’s given me. It might seem like a small gesture, but to me, it’s a vow I won’t break.
I search the darkened house, the illumination from the TV the only source of light. Murder Spice is curled on the sofa, cleaning her Colt, greeting me with her usual scowl.
“She’s upstairs waiting for you,” she warns, turning the butt of her gun in my direction. “Hurt her, August fucking Kelly, and my gun will have something to say about it.”
My jaw ticks under the helmet. Murder Spice knows who I am. That prickle at the back of my neck isn’t her aim, it’s the reminder that she somehow knows more than she lets on.
I remove two coins and flick them at her. “For the Underworld ferry.”
Her scowl dissolves into a smirk that suggests she’s deciding whether to shoot me or pour me a wine. “Not bad, Grumpy. Guess I can let the real you survive the night.”
Coming from Murder Spice, that’s a five-star endorsement.
I swallow hard. “Does she know?”
She drops her gun to her side. “You can detonate that fuse. Don’t take forever to come clean.”
She and I aren’t that different. We’re both the kind of people who keep secrets until they hurt the most. And I’ll find out hers, and what Katar has kept from me.
I’m light and silent on my feet as I ascend the stairs to Glitter Bomb’s room. She’s curled on her bed in a fetal position, one pillow between her legs, another hugged to her chest. A box of chocolates rests on her nightstand, lid off, tissue paper astray, pieces missing.
Good. She got them. I timed the delivery to hit the first day of her period that she noted in red circles on her calendar. My sister used to go feral for chocolate at that time of the month. Every orange girl deserves treats too. Phase one of Operation Period is complete.
Josh is whining and licking her face. She lifts her hand to pet him and lifts her head at my entry.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I tried to read Barry’s scientific studies but didn’t get the article finished. I was in too much pain and distracted.” She mumbles her apology like it’s a sin I’m here to punish and then bursts into tears.
Her pain cuts deep as I sit beside her and swipe away her tears with my thumb. “The Romans can wait. You mean more to me than a headline.”
She smiles, the tears sliding but running out of steam.
I lean on my knees by her bedside and kiss her tears away. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“I’m a dragon breathing fire,” she replies.
“I’m not scared of fire.” I stroke her face, brushing under her eye. “Lie back, Glitter Bomb. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve bought remedies for that, and I’ll take care of you, beautiful.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her pained smile drives me downstairs fast.
Phase Two: Remedy preparation. I’m quick and efficient. I’ve done this enough times in my head. When it’s ready, I carry everything upstairs and return to her bedside, setting the tray on her nightstand.
“Cuddle this, Glitter Bomb.” I hand her the hot water bottle wrapped in black Merino wool that’ll ease her cramping.
Wrinkles on her forehead vanish and her eyes shimmer. “Oh my God, it’s a Hottie!” She cuddles it to her chest and does a little shimmy.
I love the way she says it like a caress. “You’re a hottie.”
She laughs and shows me the label. “No, the brand is called Hottie. But I’ll take that compliment.”
Names mean nothing to me. I care about the fabric. Grayson chews my ear off about synthetics and polyester that leech microplastics under heat. I’ll bleed for her before I let her skin absorb that crap.
I place it over her belly. “Only the best for my Glitter Bomb.”
“Black with biker helmets.” She strokes the cover’s pattern like it’s couture. “Black’s my second favorite color next to orange.”
Trust Kate to turn period pain into sunshine in leather. Her enthusiasm about the small things warms my heart.
“They didn’t have any in orange.” I tuck her under the cover.
Her grin stretches wider, the sparkle creeping back into her eyes. “You’re my ultimate book boyfriend. Come and get a thank you kiss.”
I don’t know what hits harder, hearing her say that, or the guilt sucker punching me in the ribs, hammering in that I don’t deserve her.
She has no idea that the man she’s kissing is the one who left her to deal with the wolves alone.
Every stolen smile and spark of trust is built on a foundation rigged to blow.
Lying to her makes me the worst kind of bastard who takes what he wants and knows he’ll ruin her in the end.
Yet, I still want her. Us. Sunshine. Rainbows. Fucking confetti raining down on me. The only thing that will make me leave this time is her telling me to, and the clock is ticking down to detonation.
“Eyes closed,” I tell her, and she dramatically closes them.