Chapter 20 EZRA
The whole point of exploding that stupid dummy was to find out who was trying to kill me.
Jacques had his own ideas on who it could’ve been, claiming the Feds didn’t look out for anyone but themselves and they were easily bought.
I’d never dealt with the FBI or anyone else for that matter before, so I believed every word he said, because he had my back and so far hadn’t lied to me.
There was a light at the end of all this. The legal team had given me a date, and now, all we had to do was wait.
Christmas came and we actually decorated the tree a little.
I’d hoped we’d be out of here before then, but we were still here, still taking respite in the cold between the dumpsters every night.
The dummy and those dye bags continued to be the talk of the town—everyone wanted to know, and yet my name wasn’t on their lips. Jacques told me that was a good thing.
There was a sadness over my head on Christmas morning.
I didn’t set an alarm. I didn’t wake excited like I had every Christmas, even as an adult.
I knew I could always expect a call from my father’s mom, my favorite relative, and she’d usually send a card—which I wasn’t getting this year.
I wondered if my parents had even tried calling.
Jacques wasn’t in bed and it gave me time to fester in the comfort of the darkened room for a moment, knowing today was supposed to be all Hallmark and happy, and I was stuck inside dark and .
. . a little dreamy. There was a nice smell, though, wafting in through the slightly open door.
I almost hit myself for trying to romanticize my folks.
They’d probably tried calling once and then called it day.
I pulled the covers over my face and lay in complete darkness until I heard him approaching.
“Kitten.” His words pulled me right out of the funk I was in.
“What are you doing hiding under there?” He pulled back the covers and climbed onto the bed, his warm body wrapping behind mine.
I wished we could’ve stayed in that moment forever, but time was a bitch.
“I’ve made pancakes, sausage, bacon, and some cheesy scrambled eggs.
” He gnawed at my ear playfully making noms.
Giggling, I fought against him, playing. My stomach rumbled. I was hangry—and it was Christmas. “Merry Christmas,” I said. “I didn’t—”
He kissed me. “Merry Christmas,” he said. “And I got you something.”
“Yeah, but I—” I was cut off with another kiss. “I didn’t get you anything.”
A third kiss came at me, this time on my forehead. “Since we’ve been living in these conditions, neither of us could do anything. I got you a new identity.”
I snorted a laugh. “Out of context, that’s wild.”
“So, what’s the context?”
Rolling my eyes and trying my best to suppress my smile, I kinda wanted to take the identity as it was, run away, and never have to think about Ezra—me—ever again. “Running away,” I said. “From all our problems, and all the bullshit billionaires will do to get their own way.”
He kissed me again. “Well, we can run away once the year is out.”
The hearing couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
After being stuffed by breakfast, Jacques handed me a file.
It had everything inside it to start a new life—fake birth certificate, passport, driver’s license, even education certificates.
My new name was Zachary James. I thought it was a mistake at first, but James was the last name.
I stared at all of it fanned out on the coffee table.
Jacques’s new identity was Rydell Winchester. If we even took them up at all.
“I promise I’ll get you something once this is over,” I told him.
“You don’t have to get me anything. You are my gift.”
“Well then, at least let me help you make dinner.”
Jacques shook his head. “No way. You are to sit here, look over everything the law firm sent over, and get prepared for the hearing. Or there are all those jigsaw puzzles.” I shuddered.
I didn’t want to see another jigsaw in my life.
“And no news,” he said. “If I hear a reporter, I’ll give you a spank. ”
I giggled. “You know I might like that.”
“It’s Christmas, put a movie on.”
“Make me some hot chocolate, then.”
The firm had sent me documents over through the Bianchi brothers.
It was all boilerplate stuff, words and phrases I might want to steer clear of because of how they could be twisted by the opposition.
It eased me somewhat, even if the idea of having people argue and question me had my anxiety up.
Jacques was a constant reminder than I’d done nothing wrong. I was exposing them, legally speaking.
* * *
Jacques fired questions at me. “And how did you find the documents?” We were in the awful stage between Christmas and the New Year now, which mean there was so much time of just endless time-consuming nothingness, with the exception of Jacques feeding me and going over my defense—or attack, I really didn’t know anymore.
“As part of my duties as compliance auditor, I had access to past studies and information from the company,” I said, slumped on the sofa. “I hate how much this entire thing has changed me.”
“It’s okay, you’re reacting to what’s going on around you,” he said. “I’ve changed too.”
I shook my head. “Not in my eyes you haven’t. In my eyes, you’re still super sweet and subverting the image of a masc man covered in tattoos.”
He laughed. “If you knew me before meeting you, then you’d know I’ve changed.” He tugged on my foot and pulled me down the L-shaped sofa. “Were you paid by a rival company to dig around in the Nexovex archives?”
“No, I was doing my job,” I said, feeling myself becoming whiney. “Would they even ask that?”
He reached out for a paper on the coffee table. “According to your team they will,” he said. “Next question. Did you have permission to remove records from the archives to your personal property?”
My throat was in my stomach. If I wasn’t seated and being hugged tightly, I might’ve fallen to my knees. “You know I didn’t—I mean, no, I didn’t have permission, but—”
“Nope,” he said. “They’re not going to let you keep speaking once you’ve already said no.”
“What? Really?”
“Yes, really.”
I could’ve cried. It felt harsh like a dagger to my gut, being twisted around and around. It went on and on, like it was burring a hole straight through. “Fucking bastards.”
“Hey,” he said, wrapping his hands around my mouth. “I don’t want any of that. You’ve got stay calm and composed on the stand. Okay?”
I hunched my shoulders as far as they’d go, but it didn’t have any effect on his hold over my body though. He let go after I licked at his soapy hands. “Ew. What is that?”
We wrestled, biting and licking each other, distracted from the questions at hand—or so I thought. I was pinned under Jacques as he asked me one more question. “Did you meet Jacques Harlan before or after you discovered alleged material compromising the Nexovex product, Nexzen?”
“It doesn’t say that, does it?”
He glanced at the sheet again and nodded.
I really couldn’t recall. It had to have been before I met him. It had to be.
A knock came at the door, three loud clangs.
We looked at each other, then to the door.
If they opened it—whoever it was outside—they’d see the two of us clinging to each other right in front of them.
Jacques placed a finger to his lips, but it wasn’t like I was going to make a sound.
All that ran through my mind was how they wanted to kill me.
Whoever it was behind those doors, they wanted me dead.
A moment passed as we moved slowly, quietly. The bangs came again, and this time they were followed up by a rough voice. “I know you’re in there.”
Jacques immediately stood with a smirk. “Relax.”
Except my nervous system wasn’t as well trained as his, to obey being instructed to relax.
I stayed still, upright now on the sofa as Jacques opened the door.
Two men stood there in thick winter coats with fur-lined hoods obscuring their faces.
They didn’t have guns out, which was a start.
Even with Jacques as my protective bodyguard, I didn’t feel safe right now.
“Donovan,” he said. “Artemis. Nice to see you’re both alive. And—”
“What the fuck are you doing?” the rougher looking man asked, as he stepped forward inside the—whatever this was. “We’re supposed to be in retirement for another couple of months, and you’ve had Mercy at our door telling us we’re needed to come find you.”
I sat completely still. The twitching ache in my limbs had me unsure whether this was a fight or flight situation. My stomach muscles tightened too, like it was ready to have me empty the contents.
“Mercy,” Jacques spat and I jolted with a shudder.
“What happened?” the other asked.
“Listen, Mercy was selling Sanctum to the highest bidder, and that highest bidder wanted my—” He turned to me, all focus as my cheeks flushed red. “My boyfriend. They’re trying to kill him. He’s—”
“I know,” the smaller one said, walking towards me. I couldn’t place either of their names. “I read all about it. Mercy gave us a file. I think she’s trying to reach out to you.”
“How did the two of you find us?” Jacques asked.
“We’ve helped the brothers before,” the rougher one said. “They gave us your address. Don’t worry. We’re not here to strongarm you into—giving up your boy there. We’re here to help.”
“I’m Artemis,” he said, sitting beside me. “It’s been a bit of journey getting here.”
“There’s no room at the inn,” Jacques said. “And you couldn’t have timed it any worse. I’m not trying to be rude, but we’re so close to having this thing over.”
The other one—Donovan—laughed, patting Jacques’s shoulder. “He’s got you all soft, Reaper.”
My stomach jumped around at the sound of his other name. “If they can help us stay alive, I think it’s fine,” I said, my small voice louder in their silence.
“He wants us here,” Donovan said. “Which is good, because we have information.”
Artemis nodded. “Mercy left the pharma company. She got hold of the files and since she always has these clauses in everything she does,” he sighed and rolled his eyes. “She managed to wiggle out of whatever contract she had with them under a morality clause.”
I looked around, trying to make any sense of what he was saying. “So, they’re not trying to kill us anymore?”
Donovan’s loud voice boomed with laughter. Jacques sank a punch into his chest, quickly shutting him up. He closed the door behind them. We’d been here for a while, and we’d been under the practice that we were always quiet whenever the door to the outside was open.
“So,” Jacques said, massaging his fist. Donovan didn’t seem too fazed by the whole thing.
“I’m not going to ask again. You found us, and we’re in need of information, so are you going to give us the information we need, or are you going to just stand there—sit, whatever—and have us guess whether or not you’re a threat?
” I could feel the stress emanate from Jacques’s body, and I didn’t like it.
Donovan patted him on the shoulder, pulling him into a brotherly hug—it seemed. “We’ve come to help,” he said. “So, the kid’s some sort of whistleblower?”
“Yes,” I let out.
“And Reaper stole you right out of FBI custody?”
I glanced at Jacques. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that,” he said with a grin. “But you came willingly.”
“Yeah,” I said with a smile, finally feeling comfortable enough to do so. “Did you think he had me chained up here or something?”
Artemis laughed at my side, startling me. “We actually discussed that as an idea,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s the type of guy Reaper is, even if he does have a reputation.”
“Get your boy under control,” Jacques said, giving Donovan a large pat on the back.
“Relax.” Donovan gave him a large back pat in return. “We’re here to make sure you’re all good. We heard on the grapevine there’s a hearing coming up, and you’ll need more than just you to escort him. Mercy wants the firm brought down too.”
Jacques rolled his eyes, and nobody was asking the obvious question. “Why?” I asked. “Why does she want them brought down?” Or maybe I was being obtuse.
“She cut their contract it seems,” Jacques answered. “Victor is probably gunning for Sanctum now because he doesn’t have their protection. Which means—” He laughed, grabbing Donovan by his jacket collar. “We’ve got Sanctum’s backing again?”
“Bingo!” Artemis announced at my side—once more, giving me a whole body shudder. “And I think you’d know that if you had an active comms device.”
“Runa?” he said. I knew that name. She was the one he’d spoken to in his earpiece. “I haven’t spoken to her in—”
“Over a month,” Donovan said. “Nobody has been able to get in contact with you.
“Messenger pigeon, smoke signal . . .” Jacques laughed.
“What about exploding dummy?” I snorted.
“That’s what drew their attention to the area,” Artemis said. “Apparently nobody else was man enough to come find Reaper.”
I hated that name for him. He wasn’t a reaper, he was a protector. My protector. “So, you’re here to escort me into New York?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” Artemis said. “And we were making sure you were fine. That explosion really got people mad.”
Jacques laughed. “That was all his idea, actually.”
All their eyes on me had my cheeks sustaining their redness. “We thought it would bring people out who were trying to kill me, but we didn’t find out who they were working for.”
“Well it wasn’t Sanctum,” Artemis said.
“Victor’s hired mercenaries,” Donovan said. “I saw the postings.”
“You what?” Artemis jumped from his seat.
“I’ve still been looking for work, obviously,” he said
Jacques pulled away from his friend and sat beside me. “We thought it might’ve been the Feds as well.”
I shook my head at that idea. “The agents who took care of me were nice. Kalen and Dina.”
They both looked at us and laughed. “Kalen, as in the guy hooking up with Rocco?
“Kalen O’Ryan,” I said. “I remember because the name was unusual.”
“Does Rocco know he’s fucking a Fed?” Jacques asked, looking around. “We were just toasting to getting through this the other night. He never mentioned anything.”
“I’d assume he knows,” Donovan said. “Those three brothers are a little . . . unhinged.”
A shudder ran through me again. “So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “There’s not enough room for you two here. And—the hearing’s not for another week. After the New Year.”
Donovan dropped his heavy body on the other section of the L-shaped couch. “Looks comfy enough for me.”
I looked at Jacques, he’d have to sort it. I trusted him to.