Chapter Nine #2
“You good to fly us home?” he asked, watching Ash now.
I nodded. “Always.”
Ash put a bag over Jack’s head and threw his limp body over his shoulder. “Then let’s get the fuck out of this country. Last time I was here, I got food poisoning and was in bed for three fucking weeks.”
“Not our fault you eat food from sketchy places,” Dominic deadpanned, lifting the dead body.
Ash shot him a glare before jerking his chin to me. “You good, pretty boy? Or do I need to carry you too?”
For the first time in weeks, I cracked a smile. “Fuck you, Doss.”
He shot me a wink, and then we were off.
Twenty-eight hours later, the mission was complete, payment had been taken, and we touched down in Portland.
I let the fridge door slam as I walked back over to the table, fresh beer in hand, and took my seat, my eyes on the debriefing paperwork.
Since this had been an international hunt, there were more hoops to jump through, more t’s to cross and i’s to dot, which meant a mountain of paperwork.
I’d been home for a few hours, and after showering, staring up at my ceiling in bed, unable to fall asleep, I decided to get up and work.
I was too wired to relax. I pressed the bottle to my lips and tipped it back, the cold liquid hitting my throat.
My cell was perched on the edge of the table, fourteen missed calls from Dela and a few texts from my niece, Lucy, telling me she missed me.
I hadn’t been home in years and had no plans to return anytime soon.
Though I lied to my sister, making false promises to keep her at bay.
Then, like clockwork, I would make an excuse at the last minute and express mail a gift to Lucy.
With a low sigh, I swiped up my cell and called my sister.
She answered on the second ring. “Hayes! You’re back stateside,” she breathed.
My eyes darted to the clock above the stove. It was nearly three in the morning there. “I didn’t expect you to answer, D. I was just going to leave a message—”
“No, no,” she blurted. “It’s fine. I don’t get much sleep anyway. Not with everything happening with Dad.”
A lump formed in my throat. As much as I wanted to ask what was going on with our father, I refrained. His life wasn’t any of my business and vice versa. “You should see a sleep specialist,” I suggested awkwardly. “They might be able to help.”
Her voice was quiet. “He misses you.”
“I don’t need or care to know that Dela,” I told her softly, patiently.
“Hayes,” she rasped. “Please just give him a chance.”
“A chance to what?” I asked, doing everything in my power to keep my tone gentle. “To fuck it all up again?”
“It’s been—”
“I know how long it’s been,” I clipped. “I didn’t call you to talk about him. He’s out of my life. You and Lucy are still in it. I’m calling to talk about you, to catch up with you, and to check in on my niece. Nothing more.”
She had gone silent again, but I didn’t miss the sniffle that cut through the line.
Fuck. I tipped my head back to the ceiling and closed my eyes, my fingers tightening around the device as I took a few deep breaths.
My father was a sore subject, and even though I’d cut him off over a decade ago, my sweet little sister thought someday we could all still be family.
When Dela spoke again, the sadness was mostly gone from her voice as she honored my boundary. “It looks like Lucy might make the honor roll. Again.”
My lips twitched. “She’s such a smart kid. You should be proud.”
“I am. I really am, Hayes.”
For the next few minutes, we caught up, and I promised to call her soon to talk to Lucy. When the call was done, I looked out the windows, taking in the city lights, the moon in the distance, wondering if Margo was working tonight.
I knew she was.
She was always working or studying, determined to reach her goals. It was commendable and fucking attractive. She was determined, passionate. Any time I was in her presence, that passion seeped into me, drawing me to her like a moth to a flame.
She made me feel alive after pretending to be for so long.
Setting the beer onto the table, I picked up my pen again and leaned forward, trying everything to avoid picking up the phone and calling her. I wanted to see her. To go to her and set the record straight. After what I’d just endured, I was ready to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness.
My mind drifted back to her breathless moan, calling out for Gordon and then jumping to the fear in her eyes when I repeated it.
Who was Gordon?
I let the pen fall onto the stack of papers, nabbing the beer again as I rose from the chair. I moved through my living room, my body aching, desperate for rest—to heal. But my mind was reeling, on high alert. I took a healthy swig of beer before pulling out my cell, bringing up Jake’s contact.
Me: Murphy, you up?
I looked back out the window, beyond the city, to the west—to Astoria. A minute later, my phone dinged.
Murphy: I’m always up, but you aren’t supposed to be.
Me: Need a favor.
Murphy: What’s up?
Me: All I have is a first name. I need you to find them for me.
I hadn’t even lifted my thumb off the send button before he was calling me.
“Can you do it?” I answered.
“Mind you,” he grumbled. “It’s four in the fucking morning.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No, I cannot find someone with just a first name. I’m going to need a location, at the very least.”
“Oregon,” I said, finishing off the beer before allowing my mind to drift back. “Huntington.”
“Huntington,” he parroted. There was a slight pause, and I knew what was coming. Still, I braced for it. “Who is this about, Hayes? Jack?”
“No.”
“Is something wrong?”
I moved into the kitchen, tossing the empty bottle into the trash. “I don’t know yet.”
He sighed, and I could practically see him taking off his glasses and scrubbing his hand down his face. “Mitchell…”
“If something comes of it, I’ll loop in the team, but for now, I need to do this on my own,” I told him honestly. There was no sense in bringing them into the shit with Margo until I did everything in my power to fix whatever this was between us.
Her words, weeks later, still haunted me.
No, you don’t get to make love to me and then treat me like shit.
I’ve been treated that way my entire life and I will not let you do that to me.
Not you.
You don’t get to make me feel good, leave me, and then come back to rip me apart, Hayes.
“All right, man,” Jake finally said, giving in. “I’ll see what I can find. You got a deadline for me?”
“The sooner the better.”
Another sigh from his end of the line. “Fucking hell.”
“Thanks, man. Get some rest,” I said before ending the call. I put my phone face down on the counter, grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, and headed back to the table to finish the paperwork.
By the time the sun rose, Jack and the Black Mist were behind me, and Margo was the only thing in my future.
As I made my way back to my office, leaving Grayson’s, I decided to swing by Jake’s office.
Our new space in Portland was in the Block 216 building on the twenty-fifth floor, giving Ash, Grayson, Dominic, and me huge corner offices, leaving Jake in the center of the floor, his “cave” sitting right off the weapons’ safe and holding rooms. This location was the nicest space Red Snake had been in, with modern updates and essential amenities.
And thankfully, the guys were settling in nicely.
As I rounded the corner, I lifted my hand to his door, knocking harder than normal so he could hear me over the Hans Zimmer score blaring from his surround sound.
A second later, the music paused and the door was opened. I quirked a brow at his wide eyes, messy hair, and missing glasses. “This a bad time?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “No. I mean, I’m going through some records for a few clients, but—”
“How much caffeine have you had?” I cut him off, noticing how his hand was shaking slightly.
He blinked and slowly put his hand behind his back. “Who’s asking? Hayes or my boss?”
My jaw tightened. “Depends on your answer.”
“Yeah, that’s not fair.”
I clicked my tongue. “Don’t give a shit. How much have you had?”
“Just two coffees,” he blurted, opening his door wider and gesturing for me to come inside. “And three Red Bulls.”
My feet halted, my eyes narrowing as he rounded his desk, taking a seat behind his walls of monitors. “What do you mean you’ve had two coffees and three Red Bulls before nine thirty in the fucking morning?”
He poked his head up over the top of his center monitor, glasses back on. “It’s already nine thirty in the morning?” he questioned, checking his watch.
My eyes shot to the ceiling. “Jake, I swear to God, if you have a heart attack at the ripe age of thirty-three, I’m going to skin you alive.”
That got me an eye roll before he lowered himself, his fingers connecting to the keyboard once more. “What did you need? Or did you just come in here to shamelessly judge me?”
Hands in my pockets, I came around his desk, glancing at the screens. “Wondering if you had an update on Gordon.”
Jake didn’t pull his eyes from the left monitor as he answered. “I think I have something, but I need to get this to Ash before anything else.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and swiped the Red Bull can sitting on the corner of his desk. It was half full. Ignoring his protests, I took it to the trash bins and turned, pointing at him. “Water only for the rest of the day. Grayson would lose his mind if Red Snake lost its hacker.”
He remained silent, merely flipping me off. I shook my head and headed back to my office, not ready to deal with the countless emails sitting in my inbox.
A couple of hours later, when I was knee-deep in administrative work, there was a knock at my door. To my surprise, it wasn’t Jake.
It was Dominic.
“Thought our session wasn’t until tomorrow,” I greeted, signing off on the last email.
He was dressed in his usual today: navy suit sans the tie with a light blue shirt.
His hair was longer than he usually kept it, the dark ends curling up at the back of his neck, strands of it hanging around his face.
“I’m not here for that,” he said. “Though if you’re willing to talk to me, it would be a nice change. ”
My body went on alert, my jaw jumping as he leisurely made his way to my desk, not bothering to take a seat. I tipped my head back, keeping eye contact as he studied me. “What the fuck are you on about?” I clipped.
He smirked. “Just a jab.”
“Therapists aren’t supposed to make jabs at their clients, dipshit.”
“Well, I’m not your therapist right now, I’m your friend.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, smiling. “You down to grab some lunch? Ash has been gate keeping this sandwich shop for two weeks, and he promised to take us today, but he had to leave.”
I nodded, suddenly hungry. “You talking about the shop on Ninth?”
Dominic jerked back, his dark brows snapping together as if I’d told him his cat had just died. “What shop on Ninth?”
I nabbed my jacket off the back of my chair, throwing it on. “Ash gets a massive sandwich from there every Tuesday. Tucked between the barber shop and that disgusting coffee place.”
“How do you know where this fucking deli is?” he shot back, falling into step beside me as I headed down the hall.
“That’s not the fucking question you need to be asking, Dominic,” I deadpanned. “The question you need to be asking is, given what we do for a damn living, how did you not figure out where this restaurant was?”
“Fuck you, Mitchell,” he grumbled, tagging the elevator button.
I chuckled. “Where is Ash? Client meeting?”
Dominic pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen. “No, he went to Seattle University to get Margo’s car. He’ll be back this evening to deal with the client. They were fine with the meeting being pushed back.”
I stiffened, a wall of ice slamming down on top of me as my chest tightened. “What?” I asked, turning to him, lunch forgotten. “Did something happen to Margo? Is she okay?”
He twisted his neck, his eyes meeting mine. “I would assume so. Rossy didn’t say she wasn’t on the phone. He just had to drive her home from campus yesterday.”
What the hell? Grayson didn’t mention anything during our meeting.
Why would he?
To everyone else, Margo isn’t yours.
The elevator doors dinged open, and without a second thought, I stepped inside, closing it before he could follow. “Hayes, what the fu—”
His words were cut off as I hit the rooftop button, punching in the access code.
Ten minutes later, I was in the chopper, heading for Astoria.