Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
M y eyes flew open, so by the time the intruder managed to get inside, I was ready. I grabbed hold of them, pulling them off-balance and using my foot to trip them so they went sprawling on the ground. Landing on top, I made some quick assessments.
It was a man. He was as tall as me, and the thick jacket he was wearing was hard to grapple with; it gave me too little to hold on to. He was strong—stronger than I expected—and almost managed to buck me off, but I wrapped an arm around his neck.
He reached up, and I expected he was going to try and claw me, claw at my exposed forearm. That would have been the smart move. But at the last second, he pulled away, rolling and slamming us both backward onto the ground. His weight hit my solar plexus wrong, and I loosened my grip just enough for him to slither out.
He leapt to his feet, bumping into a side table next to the TV, and the crystal paperweight holding down a stack of TV Guides crashed to the ground.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Who are you ?” I countered.
He lunged forward, grabbing me around the waist and sending us both careening into the couch. It fell backward.
The lights in the living room flooded on.
My mother stood in the hallway, Cassander shoving past her, his eyes sparking with anger, hands up, ready to fight.
The kids were hiding behind my mom, eyes wide, terrified, and my mother held a baseball bat in her hands, knuckles white on the handle. Her wedding band stood out, the gold flashing and taking me back to my own childhood, back to the feeling of safety whenever I saw it.
“What is going on?” my mother demanded.
“I caught this man in your house, Rosario. I have him. Call the cops?—”
“Bradley, let go of my son,” my mother said calmly. She glared at me. “Say hello to your brother-in-law, Damian.”
“What?” I shrugged out of Brad’s grip, turning to see his face. “Why were you coming in the back door?”
Brad frowned, looking at me in confusion before glancing at Rosario. “We own the house behind hers. Why would I come in the front when I can just walk through the backyard?”
I gaped, remembering how casually Candy had come in the back. I thought she was coming in from the street, but, “You bought the house behind my mom’s?”
“Candace was worried about her living on her own.” Brad stood, moving around the couch before crouching and extending his arms. His kids fled into his grip, and he wrapped them in a tight hug.
I felt color rise on my face, but then I saw the back of his head. There were a few strands of grass in it. And right at the edge of his collar was a streak of something dark red, almost brown.
Blood.
I swallowed, frowning in concern. What kind of lawyer got grass and blood all over himself? What kind of lawyer came over at midnight?
“Sorry. I just thought I’d pick up the kids. I should have waited until morning.” Brad stood, holding the hands of his children. Riley was looking away, wiping at her face.
“Don’t worry.” My mom put aside the baseball bat, leaning against the wall. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“Some misunderstanding. I almost took out my brother-in-law! What a way to introduce myself.” Brad’s face stretched into an open grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He offered over his hand. “Brad Whitlock. A real pleasure to meet you, Damian. Candace talks about you all the time.”
I put my hand in his, and he pumped it enthusiastically. There was nothing on his face that said he was lying. There was nothing on his face that said anything other than he was exactly what he looked like: an expensive lawyer from an upper-middle-class family, who’d gone to all the right schools and did everything right.
“Nice to meet you.” I let go of his hand, examining his rumpled suit. “Sorry about attacking you.”
“I’m very glad that you did!” He grinned again, hands dropping to the kids clinging to his legs like particularly attractive limpets. “Makes me feel better that someone is staying with Rosario.”
On his neck, there was a streak of the same red stuff that had dried on his collar.
I gestured to my own neck. “You got something here.”
His eyes went wide, and he tilted his head, touching his neck. He scratched, bringing his fingers to his nose, and then he grinned. “Barbecue sauce. We’ve been working a big case. Career making. But it means long hours. One of my coworkers got a craving for ribs.”
I nodded, crossing my arms. “Candy doesn’t mind you working the long hours?”
“No, no. She is so understanding. Too understanding sometimes.” He shook his head. “She wanted to let the kids sleep over tonight, but then I wouldn’t see them when I left in the morning.”
He looked down fondly, hugging Junior against his leg. Both children had gotten over their terror, the adrenaline-fueled panic on their faces fading into yawns.
“All right. Come on, kiddos.” He turned them all toward the back door, raising his hand once. “Thanks again, Rosario. Candace might need to drop them off again tomorrow. I’m not sure when this case is going to be done, and I know she’s booked all week.”
They all shuffled out the door, Brad murmuring soft apologies. I turned to my mother. She looked at me, eyes narrowed, before rolling them up to the ceiling.
She didn’t say anything, but I heard it anyway. If I came home more often, I wouldn’t attack my brother-in-law. Because I would know him. I would have met him. I held in my own sigh.
“We will deal with this in the morning.” My mother lifted her baseball bat and gestured significantly to the mess I’d made of the living room while trying to fight off what I thought was an intruder.
Then she turned down the hall, her pink sleeping bonnet gleaming satin in the light. Her door shut, leaving me and Cassander alone in the living room. His head tilted, and he eyed me with interest.
“You haven’t been home at all.” The observation was a statement of fact, clearly something he already knew, but also a question. He was carefully probing at the why underneath.
I shook my head. Coming home would have been too complicated. It would have meant coming back to this place, talking with people I never wanted to speak to again, being Damian Reyes again. Working for the SPA, being undercover for them, meant that I never had to be myself. Not ever.
“That sounds like… a luxury.” Cassander gazed toward the back door before walking over and locking it.
I looked at his back, the pull of his shoulders, the delicate lines of his neck. Did he want to leave home and never come back? No. It was more than that for him. The part that made it luxurious was that I didn’t have to worry about not knowing.
I put together all the pieces I knew about him.
If I didn’t know the people living in my home, none of them were going to try and assassinate me. If Cassander didn’t know who his family was, then he didn’t know who had placed a target on his back.
“Come to bed.” Cassander turned back to me, tilting his head toward the hall. “The couch can’t be comfortable.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I followed him. In the bedroom, the bed looked even smaller, but Cassander crawled in, pressing his back against the wall. I didn’t know him. Not really. What I learned from observing him, from reading him, didn’t count. Still, I wanted him.
He watched me from his position on the bed, his eyes trailing up and down my body. I couldn’t help my reaction. I wanted him, and goose bumps rose on my arms as though I could feel his gaze like fingers trailing up my skin.
Shaking my head, I flicked off the bedroom lights, dousing us in darkness. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming in from the window. It painted his skin an unearthly silver. It almost seemed to gleam, giving him a shine as though he were some deity that had graced my bed with his presence.
I climbed in after him, pulling up the cool sheet to cover us both. Desert Flower had chilled, the heat of the day fading into an uncanny cold. Up close, he was even more beautiful, his brown eyes seeming to glow gold in the faint light.
This wasn’t right. I still wasn’t sure I could trust him, but… who could I trust these days?
Twenty-one had warned me that I couldn’t trust the agency. My mother was a con artist. My sister hated me. My brother-in-law was hiding something.
And Cassander was hiding plenty. I shouldn’t—I wouldn’t?—
“You know, after the day we’ve had, no one would blame us for giving in to the adrenaline.” Cassander stopped, his eyes fixed on mine, seeing how his words landed.
“No,” I agreed. “No one would blame us.”
We watched each other, the tension growing taut as a guitar string. He swallowed, and I followed the bob of his throat, part of me desperate to kiss his neck, find out where his ticklish spots were.
“We should go to sleep.” Because I couldn’t trust him.
He nodded, eyes fixed on mine. “I am glad that I met you, Damian Reyes. It has been strange, and I’m not sure it’s an experience I’d volunteer for, but you saved my life. And for that, I will be in your debt.”
Something shivered up my spine. “Same. Only you didn’t save my life.”
“Would you like me to endanger your life just so I can save it?” Cassander asked. His voice rumbled, and I thought Yes, please, may I have some more?
“I mean, that would defeat the purpose of saving me, wouldn’t it?” My voice fell to a whisper.
Cassander made a noncommittal noise.
“Cass? You aren’t going to endanger me just so we can be lifesaving twinsies, are you?” I could feel the tension on my brow. “ Cass ?”
“I make no promises. Now, sleep.”
I wasn’t sure when I had gone to sleep, only knowing that I woke to the sound of the radio blaring in the kitchen. Sometime during the night, Cassander had tucked himself into me, his head under my chin, his breath warm on my chest. His body was limp, barely twitching when I tried to move away.
He nestled closer, murmuring unhappily. I let my arm curve around his shoulders, let myself take comfort in the warm pressure of another body against mine, another person needing me in an uncomplicated way.
Cassander and I had no childhood history, no shared trauma. Instead, all we had was the current position we were in: two people in a place they didn’t want to be, trapped together.
The smart thing was to keep him close. He was the one with me every time I’d transported; he was the one who was wealthy enough to have access to other magical artifacts.
Yes. I’d keep him close so that I could keep an eye on him. I’d keep him close so that I’d be able to watch him and figure out what his game was.
Still, even through our shirts, I could feel how warm his skin was. I could almost feel the beat of his heart. When he turned his head, his eyes caught mine, and I was absolutely lost.
I couldn’t resist, tilting my head down, desperate for something, the connection between us irresistible.
The bedroom door burst open, and Riley yelled, “Breakfast is ready!”
Cassander and I shoved apart, me ending up on the floor, him holding both hands up in front of him as though warding off an attack.
“Kid! Knock!” I pointed to the door. “Out!”
“Abuela says breakfast is ready,” Riley repeated sullenly.
“Yeah, we heard you. What are you even doing back here? Get out.” I rubbed my hands over my face as she left, the door still wide open. “Well, who needs an alarm clock when you’ve got kids? No wonder Candy drops them here and bounces.”
“At least the night had no further interruptions,” Cassander said mildly. “You didn’t feel the need to attack any other relatives. No new magic transported us across the globe.”
“No,” I said. “Come on, if we don’t go, Ma will probably send Junior.”
I examined the clothes from yesterday and found a bullet hole in the jacket I hadn’t noticed before. The entire backside of the pants was covered in dust and dirt. Cassander was frowning at his own clothes with just as much annoyance.
“I don’t remember them being this dirty,” he said unhappily, as though dirt itself was supposed to disappear at his will.
I poked my finger through the bullet hole. “Is this lucky or unlucky?”
He raised both eyebrows. “That got close to you.”
“I know,” I said. “I guess we’re wearing the clothes that I didn’t even want to take with me to boot camp.”
I dug through the drawers, pulling out some jeans and shirts. The clothes smelled of fresh laundry soap too. I handed Cassander a pair of pants and a shirt and kept my eyes focused on my hands instead of watching as he stripped, showing off his flawless brown skin.
Pulling out another pair of jeans, I put them on, only to find out they were three inches too short. Frowning, I picked out another pair. I hadn’t grown much, if at all, in height since eighteen.
The next pair fit, but when I pulled the waist together, the button popped off, and I glared down at the metal piece in my hand. The only pair of pants left in the dresser was a pair of worn sweatpants that had an awkward stain at the groin.
“What’s wrong?” Cassander asked.
“Nothing, just a case of the Mondays,” I said unhappily.
“It’s Wednesday,” Candace said from the door.
With a yelp of discomfort, I grabbed the nearest shirt—a gag gift I was pretty sure Candace had given me that was bright pink with kittens tumbling over each other on it. Candace raised her eyebrow, leaning against the doorjamb.
Reluctantly, I tugged the shirt over my head, finding the armholes.
“Looks good on you,” Candace said. “I heard you tried to beat up my husband last night.”
“I could have won,” I said defensively.
Candace raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed in disbelief. “Sure, what are you now? A secret agent?”
Everything in me wanted to react, but I kept myself controlled. She was trying to provoke a reaction; she was trying to read me. My own sister was trying to read me. The only way to fight it was to distract her, so I let myself react to the wrong thing.
“I could have beaten him! Plus, who comes to take kids at midnight, anyway? For all I knew, he was a kidnapper!”
Candace shook her head. “Breakfast.”
We followed her down the hall to the kitchen, the smell of coffee drawing me forward, and by the time I was sitting, cradling a cup, the kids were already mostly finished.
My mother put down a plate in front of me: eggs with chorizo, tortillas on the side. She went back into the kitchen and prepared another plate for Cassander.
“Thanks, Ma,” Candace said. “I gotta go. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Of course, mija.” My mother gestured her over, running a hand through Candy’s hair, fixing it. She kissed Candy’s cheek, then waved a hand to shoo her off.
“Bye, babies!” Candace said, leaning down to kiss her kids. “Be good for Grandma!”
“Wait, what?” I asked, looking between everyone. “You’re leaving the kids with Ma?”
“Unlike someone here, I have to go to work.” Candace narrowed her eyes at me. “People’s hair doesn’t cut itself.”
“Don’t they have to go to school?” I asked, glancing at the clock in the kitchen.
“Summer vacation?” Candace tossed her keys in her hand. She shook her head. “I really gotta go.”
She left, the back door slamming behind her, and I was up and out of my chair, following. She was already almost across the yard, fishing in her purse as she opened what I now recognized as a gate between Mom’s yard and the house behind.
“Candy!” I shouted.
She turned, frowning, the gate held open with one hand. She raised her other to shade her face, keys hanging between her fingers, two frown lines forming.
“What?” she demanded.
“You’re letting Mom take care of the kids?” We’d always said we never would. We’d do anything to protect our kids from the life we’d lived. We’d lain in this very backyard, staring at the stars and promising each other that no other kids were going to suffer the way we had.
“Versus what, Damian?” She shook her head, her curled dark hair falling into her face. “What am I supposed to do?”
“ Hire someone? Let your rich lawyer husband pay for you to stay home?” I suggested.
She sneered at me. “You know what? You get to judge my life when you’ve been back in town for more than five minutes. You get to judge my life when you are actually here .”
“You know why I can’t be here,” I said. “You know why I had to go. You used to say you had to go too.”
“Yeah, well. Some of us grow up, D. Someone around here had to be the grown-up so that you could go live like James Bond, Mister CIA secret agent.”
My breath hitched. “What?”
“Oh, yeah, your whole undercover agent, man of mystery thing? I know.” She pointed to the house, her keys jangling. “More importantly? Ma knows.”