License to Chill (Subparheroes)

9. CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Colden

T he bell hits the glass door and Neo lets out his frustration, muttering something about stubborn men. And I think I hear sexy in his grumblings. With effort, I push down the bubbles of feelings and focus on the important things. Like getting Neo to the safe house and shutting down the people wreaking havoc on his life.

I stride down the aisle flanked by mattresses to where Bean sits with their green Converse high-tops resting on a wooden desk and a thick book in their hands. “Hey, Bean.”

“Colden.” They drop their feet and set the book, The Complete Works of Jane Austen, aside.

The florescent overhead lighting is so bright I fear for my retinas. Neo sidles up beside me and I catch myself inhaling his clean scent. It’s nothing more than body soap, but on Neo it smells fresher, crisper.

He shields his eyes with his hand like he’s shading them from the noon-day sun. Unfortunately for Bean, they startle easily, which is why they have enough lights on to illuminate a small city. Even more unfortunate, Bean’s power is a supersonic scream, which sounds cool until someone walks up behind them and they scream.

Bean spares Neo enough of a glance that the light glints off the silver septum ring in their nose, but they return their attention to me. “I take it April contacted you?”

Before Bean can answer, the bell clangs against the glass door. Neo and I turn in unison, and I do not notice the way his gaze rakes Arlo, taking in his pink chinos and pink and teal checked shirt highlighting his tanned skin. Nor do I run my hand through my hair in an attempt to make it look as artfully tousled as my co-worker’s hair. With his dark-rimmed glasses, Arlo looks like a model in a magazine.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble.

“Last I checked, I work here.” Arlo waves to Bean as he strides toward us like he’s strutting down a damn catwalk. He stops near us and hands a paperback to Bean. “Brought you something.”

Bean picks it up. Eyes scanning the cover, their mouth curves up. “The new Forrest Garvis book?”

“Is that mine?” I reach for the book, but Bean jerks it away with more speed than one would think someone so slight could muster.

Arlo sucks his teeth as if he can’t believe I would say such a thing. “Of course not. We packed yours in your bag.” He turns his annoying self toward Neo but asks me, “Are you going to introduce us?”

A low growl rumbles from my chest. He shouldn’t be looking at Neo with anything other than professional interest. “Arlo, this is Neo. Neo, Arlo.” I fling a thumb at Bean. “And this is Bean. Bean, Neo.”

Arlo’s already handsome face transforms with a brilliant smile, making him even more attractive. He beams all that charm at Neo and takes his hand, shaking it with more enthusiasm than seems appropriate. “It’s great to meet you. You’re my first case. I’m so excited.”

“Happy to be your first.” Neo winks.

WINKS.

At Arlo.

Arlo throws his head back in laughter. “Oh, I like you.”

I’ve tried so hard to dislike the guy, but it’s impossible. Even now when he’s shamelessly flirting with my subject. “You’re going to shake his arm out of its socket.”

“Sorry.” Arlo releases Neo’s hand. “It’s just so exciting.”

My fingers sting and ache. I look around, but there’s nowhere to release the buildup right now.

The bell sounds, and in hurries a rainbow of colors, aka my whirlwind of an aunt. “Colden, dear.” June holds up a floral bag that reminds me of something a magical nineteenth century English nanny would carry. “We packed some things for you.”

“You told my aunt?” I bark at Arlo.

Aunt June ignores me and glides toward Neo, her smile as warm and welcoming as her big brown eyes.

Neo extends his hand. “Aunt June….”

She bats it down and pulls him into a hug. I know from experience her hugs aren’t those fake types, perfunctory, like hugging my parents. Aunt June hugs with her whole body and in her embrace all troubles vanish.

Neo squeezes his eyes closed and accepts the soul nourishment my aunt offers. His face relaxes, and he bends, returning her squeeze. After a minute, he pulls away. “What are you doing here?”

“Yes, Arlo. What is my aunt doing here?” I fold my arms over my chest, shooting my co-worker my best glower. It doesn’t matter that we’re only ten miles outside of town. I’m securing a subject in a safe house, and she shouldn’t be here.

As usual, my disapproval doesn’t phase him, because nothing seems to bother the guy. “She was at the office when you texted me.”

“I was keeping him company while you were gone.” June releases Neo, but cups the non-bruised side of his jaw. “Colden keeps us up to date on your research and how you’re doing. We’re so proud of you.”

“I need something.” I hold my hand up to Bean, fisting my fingers.

They pull a wastepaper basket from under their desk and hand it to me. I let the duffel slide off my shoulder to the floor and hold my hands over the waste can. Rapid clunks of ice hit the sides.

“I dare anyone not to be proud of someone so miraculous,” I say under my breath, only to find my aunt watching me with the same intensity she had every time I tried to lie to her when I was a kid.

She places a hand on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you produce so much, so fast. We could have used that for our cookout the other day.”

“Doesn’t happen often.” I scrunch my eyes closed and focus on the relief rather than the pain from the buildup. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“June volunteered to pack your things for the safe house.” Hands stuffed into his pockets, Arlo wanders toward me, his gaze on the cubes flinging from my fingers.

The last of the cubes pings the metal can and I shake my hands before wiping them on my jeans. “You still shouldn’t have involved her.”

“Like your aunt would listen if I told her to stay away.” Arlo grins at June. “No offense.”

She beams back at him. “Can’t be offended when it’s true.”

Arlo turns to Neo. “A safe house. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Eternity in the six months I’ve been here.”

Aunt June squeezes his forearm. “That’s not true. You helped douse the fire we accidentally started down by the lake.”

“That wasn’t for work, and Colden said he wouldn’t bail me out if we got arrested again.” Arlo’s tone is as warm as the twinkle in his eyes. He leans into June, still bursting with so much energy, I fear he may explode.

“You were arrested for indecent exposure,” I spit out, but I bite my cheek. Bean chuckles, but it dies in their throat when I narrow my eyes at them. Arlo and June do not need encouragement, and I refuse to foster adolescent behavior.

I catch Neo’s gaze for some help. Maybe some agreement on the importance of following the rules of society, but he’s looking at me with a sappy smile that buries me.

June points her index finger in my direction with her reprimand. “It wasn’t Arlo’s fault his pants caught fire when he was trying to pat out the flames from my skirt. Removing them and jumping into the water was the smart thing to do.”

“And what were Tuesday and Howard’s excuses?” I rub my eyes and shake my head. Hopefully, the safe house has painkillers. My head is pounding just from this conversation. “Stop talking about it. Knowing my aunt and her friends go skinny dipping is scarring enough.” I pin Arlo with a hard stare. “And you’re what, thirty, forty years younger than all of them? I’d think you’d be the voice of reason.”

Arlo tucks his hands in his pockets and stubs his toe against the worn carpet. “I’ve never skinny dipped before, and I wanted to experience it.”

Bean snorts.

Neo’s gaze pings between Aunt June, Arlo, Bean, and me. What must he think? I’ve gotten used to the circular conversations. Sort of. But if you’re not used to it… He rolls his neck and says to Arlo, “So, the safe house?”

My co-worker practically vibrates with excitement. “Yes. April wants you two to lie low until we isolate the threat.”

“I’m still not sure I understand what’s going on.” Neo’s gaze lands on me, like I’m true North and will guide him through shadowy skies, murky waters, and overgrown jungle trails.

A flurry of flutters fly around my insides. I want to be that for him. So badly. My jaw relaxes. “Welcome to my world.” I tip my chin at Arlo. “Arlo is my—”

“Partner.” Arlo’s chest puffs out.

I roll my eyes. “Trainee.”

“Friend,” Arlo pouts like he’s the lead in a Broadway production.

I bite back a laugh. “Officemate.”

“Co-worker,” Arlo corrects.

“Fine. Arlo and I work for SPAM.”

As usual, Arlo grins triumphantly when I finally concede. Like this isn’t a thing we’ve done for the last six months.

“I work for them too.” Bean raises their hand, making them look more like fourteen than twenty-eight.

Aunt June slips her arm through Neo’s. “We have a lovely little restaurant that specializes in spam dishes.”

“That’s… good?” He crinkles his nose and I’m not sure if it’s the thought of a spam restaurant or because of the randomness of my aunt’s comment. Not that it matters because his expression is so damn cute, I want to haul him to me and kiss the shit out of him.

She pats his forearm. “Our friend, Howard, makes a tasty, spicy garlic spam fried rice. It’s much better than his spam pancakes, but don’t tell him I said that.”

“The skinny dipping guy?” Neo’s eyes widen at me like he’s not sure how to feel about knowing the chef’s junk was sailing free in some lake.

I know the feeling.

Arlo bounces on the edge of a mattress, testing it. “Howard’s restaurant is Spamalicious, which is pretty funny because his restaurant is two doors down from our SPAM office. The guys at headquarters like to tease us about it.”

“Speaking of headquarters,” I jump in, ready to get this derailed conversation back on track. “Did April give you any more information?”

Arlo straightens, and suddenly he’s all business. He slides around Bean and wakes up the ancient PC on their desk. “From what we gathered, Paris Ridge,” he nods at Neo, “or, as you know him, Alexander Atteridge specializes in acquisitions. Specifically, intellectual property pertaining to artificial intelligence for the Boston Area Villain Association.”

“Paris?” Neo’s mouth twists and scrunches with distaste and he stumbles back, plopping onto a mattress.

“That’s right,” Arlo continues, his brilliant grin blinding. “He specializes in acquisitions. Specifically, intellectual property pertaining to artificial intelligence for the Boston Chapter of the Eastern Criminal Alliance. He’s been a chapter member since he turned eighteen, so, for about eighteen years. Which is a significant amount of time considering he’s relatively young, but we can’t figure out how he became president.”

“Here’s the deal.” I walk over to Neo, squatting until I’m at eye level with him. Those gorgeous eyes filled with intelligence and curiosity gaze down at me. “If April sent the information, we know it’s reliable. April is…” I look to Arlo. “How does one explain April?”

“All-knowing? The woman who has the power to make our lives hell should she choose to do so?”

I smooth my hand over my mouth. The kid’s not wrong, but I never thought he’d say something like that out loud. “She basically runs everything at SPAM. There’s a concern that your ex is part of BAVA. Based on recent events, we have reason to believe they’re interested in you and your research.”

He nods, then nods some more. His gaze is still on me, but he’s somewhere else. Like he’s pondering the ramifications of his research getting into the wrong hands.

I rest my palm on his knee to bring his focus back to me. That, and not touching him, is impossible. “You fell asleep in the car before I could fill you in.”

“Alex, I mean Paris, doesn’t like to work too hard.” Neo’s cheeks brighten to rosy and he palms the zip drive around his neck.

Arlo bounces on the balls of his feet as if containing his excitement is too much and he’s going to shoot straight up to the ceiling if he doesn’t release it soon. “Well, whatever the reason he got the position, the work you’re doing is exactly the type of technology that could win BAVA the Eastern Criminal Alliance’s competition. How cool is that?”

“Um…” Panic laces Neo’s gaze as he looks at me like I have the answers to his questions.

“Nothing about this is cool .” I stand and narrow my eyes at my co-worker.

His face falls, like I’ve sucked out his enthusiasm. I may feel a little bad for him, because I know he wasn’t trying to be insensitive, but the kid needs to learn to read the room. “Sorry.”

Neo nods and gives him a reassuring smile. “No worries. I appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure.” Enthusiasm back in place, Arlo leans over the desk and starts rifling through the papers on it. “Did you see this?” He shoves a page in my face. I slap him away, but Arlo slaps back, then sticks it in my hands. It’d be funny if Neo didn’t look like he was about to go into shock.

“Isn’t this your department chair?” Arlo juts his chin to a photo of a balding man, with a round face, and perpetually pink cheeks above his bushy white mustache.

I hold the printout so Neo can see it, and his face pales. “Yeah.”

“We have reason to believe he’s working with BAVA, but we’re not sure yet how he’s involved.” His gaze on the photo, Arlo stares at it like it’ll give up more information through the sheer force of his will.

“He introduced me to Alexander.” Neo’s voice is thin, quiet.

With every discovery, a bit more of Neo’s wonder and spirit seems to diminish. My chest clenches as I watch him shrink in front of me.

Arlo’s phone chimes. He turns and walks to the back of the store to take the call. Neo stares at the picture of the man with pale eyes looking at us through thick glasses. “How many times did I show up at my office and find him there? He would blow it off, saying he was waiting for me because he knew I’d be in soon. He’s been acting a little off lately, but his wife is going through treatment for cancer, so I figured he was just stressed and tired.”

I stare at Dr. Lexton, memorizing the placement of every strand of hair on the asshole’s head because when I get to him, he will pay for fucking with Neo. Sick wife or not, I don’t care. “We’ll find out what his involvement is.” I look up from the picture to Neo and unclench my teeth. “We’ll need your take on this. You have a way of looking at things that’s unique, and that’s what we need.”

He straightens, sitting taller, and I make a note to compliment him more.

Arlo returns. “That was April. She said you need to get moving.”

Bean hands me a plastic bag with a smiley face on it. “Everything you need is in here. Phones, tablet, keys, codes. All the information is on the secured network.”

I take the bag. “Thanks.”

“Don’t forget this.” Aunt June thrusts the carpet bag at me before wrapping her arms around my waist. “Be safe.”

I breathe in her scent of smoke and ash, conjuring images of roasting marshmallows on lazy summer nights. “You too.”

She releases me and hugs Neo, and I hear her whisper into his ear, “Take care of him.”

“We’ll only communicate through the secure phones.” Unable to see past his excitement, Arlo’s face lights up. “Once you get there, let me know. Bean and I will update information as we’re made aware.”

“Yeah.” I hold out my hand to Neo. “Ready?”

He slings his duffel over his shoulders but doesn’t take my hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask this already, but how long will we be there? I have a class to teach and research to complete.”

“We’ve contacted the university and let them know you have a family emergency and are taking a leave of absence. Roman Tran is filling in for you.” Arlo types something into Bean’s computer.

I groan at the thought of the overeager SPAM supe whose biggest trick is making the most delicious muffins with only water, flour, and salt. “Not Fluff Muffin. Did you tell him no karaoke?”

“April said she already talked to him about that.” He looks at Neo. “Roman is a white hat hacker, but he can take karaoke a little too seriously.”

“What about my research?” Neo stops moving and stares at Arlo, his posture rigid. “What about Hendrix?”

I turn to Neo—who looks like he’s stumbled into an alternate universe—and pause. Everything in me calls to ease his worries, and I wish I could cool them as easily as I can shoot cubes from my fingers. “Roman may make a fool of himself, but he will make sure your research and Hendrix are safe.” It only takes one pleading look from him for me to know I will do anything for this man. “I promise.”

Held hostage by his gaze, I wait as he studies me like he’s determining if I’m full of shit or not. In a way, I am full of shit, because how can I make such a promise? But it’s a promise I want to keep. I don’t know what he sees, but he bobs his head in one sharp move.

I exhale the breath I was holding and extend my hand again. “Ready?”

“I guess.” He looks at my hand like he doesn’t understand what I’m offering. I wiggle my fingers. Is it weird that I want to feel his palm pressed against mine?

Yeah, it’s totally weird, because that’s not the kind of relationship we’ve ever had, but I hope he doesn’t call me on it. Another beat and just as I’m about to drop my hand, he laces his fingers through mine and lets me guide him to the back of the store.

My fingers ache, but this time it has nothing to do with the need to dispense ice from my system and everything with the grip of his hand in mine, and the feel of his skin. The need to dip under the soft cotton of Neo’s shirt to see if the skin underneath feels as soft as it looked when his shirt rode up is real. I nearly came in my pants when he got out of the car, bending and stretching. But even if he weren’t my best friend’s brother, he’d still be off-limits. I’m not sure what SPAM’s policy is regarding agents and clients, but I can’t imagine they’d be happy about an agent hooking up with a subject.

I guide Neo to the door with a red Employees Only placard. He doesn’t say anything. However, his head pivots, his intelligent eyes taking everything in.

I remove my hand from his warm body and turn the knob of the door, pushing it open to reveal a white refrigerator that is at least thirty years old, a microwave that always smells like burnt popcorn sitting on an orange laminate counter scarred with nicks and cuts. There’s a small table that was in style sometime in the seventies and a bulletin board with the same faded employee posters that hang in my office.

Neo looks around. The side of his bottom lip disappears between his teeth, and for the first time since laying eyes on him at the bar, he appears… concerned. “We’re staying here?”

“Not exactly.” I punch a code into the microwave. The wall behind the refrigerator swings open. Neo’s eyes widen with wonder, but just as quickly, he surveys the room with a new level of interest. Like he’s trying to figure out what other high-tech gadgets the room houses. “This way.” I hold out my hand.

He inspects it for a beat before taking it, and I lead him into the dark hallway, typing in another code on the keypad on the cinderblock wall. The refrigerator disappears, and we’re ensconced in darkness. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and guide us through a maze of hallways, some with false doors, some doors leading to vacant rooms, while other doors lead back to the hallway one was just in.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Neo whispers. “Do you know where you’re going?”

I tighten my hold on his hand. “I come here when I need some alone time.”

Even with my flashlight, it’s dark enough that I can’t make out more than his form as we descend lower and lower, but I feel his body tighten. “What exactly do you do, Colden? This doesn’t seem like recruiting work.”

Unspoken questions hang in the cool air. I can guess what some of them may be, and I have my own questions. Like, does he think about that kiss as much as I do? Does he even remember it? “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up once we get there.”

We enter a door that leads to a stone pathway enclosed by stone walls. It feels like being in the depths of a castle. The air smells damp, with a hint of mushroom. We walk in silence. Needles prick at my fingertips with the urge to release, but the warmth of Neo’s hand in mine keeps the usual discomfort at bay. After another twenty minutes, we reach what I refer to as the Alice in Wonderland door. The arched yellow door stands no more than three feet high.

I stop in front of it, then run my fingers along the stone wall until I come in contact with a loose stone. Tapping it twice, then giving it a jiggle, I pull the stone toward me. The little wooden-looking gateway rises from the ground until it’s the size of a typical door. Neo’s eyes widen, but he remains silent. I press my pinky finger to the pad, then bend to scan my retina. The locks slide open, the smooth sound barely audible. I push open the thick steel door and motion for Neo to enter.

Once on the inside, I repeat the process. The locks secured, I point to the ladder. “We’ll climb this, and then we’re there.”

“I’m not sure where there is.” He moves the strap of the duffel back over his head so it crosses over his chest and pushes the bag to his back.

I start the ascent, peering over my shoulder. “The safe house. It’s nice.”

At the ceiling, I unbolt the latch and push open the hatch. I toss the smiley face go bag and the bag my aunt packed into the room, plant my hands on the floor and lift myself up. Then I reach a hand out to help pull Neo into the dark room.

“Lights on,” I say. A warm ban of light illuminates the tiny cabin. Shadows fall over the walls constructed of logs and the hardwood floor. I knock the hatch closed with my foot, lock it, then cover it with a braided rug and push a sideboard cabinet constructed from reclaimed wood over it. Wiping my hands together, I turn and find Neo standing where I planted him, taking in the cozy space.

I remove the duffel from his shoulders, careful not to bump his bruised cheek and drop it next to my things and the go bag. “If Arlo followed procedure, which knowing him, he did, the kitchen will be stocked.”

Neo nods, but doesn’t move from his spot.

“Hey.” I rub my hands up and down his arms. “You okay?” A shiver runs through him, shuttering his limbs. “Are you cold? There’s wood out back, I can—”

“No. I’m fine.” He shakes his head. “It’s a lot. Ya know? And this…” His arm flails around and I duck out of the way so he doesn’t knock me in the head. “The technology… How is it possible when the PC in the mattress store was at least twenty-five years old and the refrigerator… The refrigerator was ancient, but the wall opened.” Tawny eyes the color of one of Dack’s amber ales pin me. “What exactly does SPAM do?”

Right, I never really answered his question earlier, getting sidetracked by June and Arlo. Hand on the small of his back, I lead him across the room to the miniature kitchen. I pull out one of the two stools that are tucked under the peninsula. “Sit. I’ll make us something to eat.”

“I’m not hun—” A growl that would rival anything the Things That Go Bump division deals with erupts from his stomach. “Yeah, food sounds good.”

I can’t hide my smirk and the bratty man rolls his eyes as he settles himself on the stool. “Since it’s late, how about something easy?”

“Remember those burritos you used to make after my mom died?” A soft expression spreads over his face so agonizingly sweet I press my fist to my sternum.

I open the fridge and cupboards, taking inventory of what we have, and ignore the pang in my chest at the memory. Mr. Price wanted Neo to have as little disruption as possible, so Dack was in charge of making him dinner while Mr. Price was downstairs running the bar. Back then, Dacker’s cooking repertoire consisted of grilled cheese and hot dogs. Not that I was much better, but I researched easy meals and the seven layer dip burritos turned up. After that, I spent most dinners in the little kitchen above Stealthy Spirits. My parents were never around and my brother was at college. Helping Dacker with Neo made me feel useful and, in a small way, needed.

“We can do that.” I open a can of refried beans, dump them in a pot, and put the pot on the stove. Then, I gather the rest of the ingredients, and begin slicing the tomatoes. “No jalapenos. You okay with that?”

Neo rapidly nods. “My tolerance for heat hasn’t improved with age.”

For a few moments, the only sound is the knife as it comes down on the cutting board and the hoot of a distant owl. The silence is comfortable.

“So, are you going to explain to me what’s going on?” Neo looks up from contemplating the wood grain of the countertop.

I scoop the tomatoes into my hands, then dump them in a bowl. “As you know, Arlo and I work for SPAM. Not the canned meat.” I set down the knife and take two water bottles from the fridge, holding one up to Neo. He nods and I slide it across the countertop to him. “Specialized Processing and Management. We’re a quasi-governmental organization.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Specialized Processing and Management? It’s like someone just strung together a bunch of words.” He cracks open the bottle and takes a swig.

I huff a laugh. “You’re not wrong. I’ve worked for SPAM for five years and even I’m not entirely sure everything they do.”

“By choice or by their design?” He returns the cap to the bottle.

“Probably both.” I continue slicing ingredients. Having something to focus on other than the way the light makes his beard appear golden is necessary or I’ll end up mauling the poor man. “They’re an international organization of people with super and not-so-super powers that flies under the radar.”

He flicks the loose part of the label on the bottle with his thumb. “I remember you saying that superpowers were overrated. That you didn’t want to do what you parents and brother do. Didn’t want to work for the government.”

Of course he remembers that. Maybe if I had a power like erasing memory, I could scrub his brain of that and I wouldn’t have to explain the real reason I took the job with SPAM.

“Isn’t SPAM the organization that was trying to recruit you for your powers?” He hops off the stool and stands next to me as I scoop avocado into a bowl. “You were in college.”

I toss the avocado peels in the garbage and ignore the urge to hide up in the loft above us and lose myself in my book. “Life happens and things change.”

He mashes the avocado with the fork I hand him, mixing in the lemon juice as I squirt it over the bowl. I put tortillas on a cookie sheet and slide them into the oven to warm. We work seamlessly together, setting out plates and silverware.

Neo returns to his stool, and a craving wiggles its way from my gut, penetrating under my rib cage and splintering something inside of me. I take my seat next to him, ignoring his knee pressed to mine. And how much I want to run my hand up his thigh, washing myself in his heat. We dig in, and he moans his approval of the food. I squirm in my seat.

Once again, silence descends over us, but it’s the kind that comes from years of knowing each other. It feels good. Since my aunt moved in with me, there always seems to be someone around and talking.

“I’m sorry.” The quiet of his voice slices the silence in two.

I jerk my head and glimpse his profile. Fine lines fan out from the corner of his eyes from a lifetime of finding the positive in any situation. Thick stubble from days of not shaving will be a beard tomorrow. A freckle dots the middle of his earlobe. So beautiful. Gaze on his half-eaten burrito, he doesn’t look at me. I bump his knee with mine. “For what?”

“For my twenty-first birthday.”

“Neo…” The burrito sticks in my throat. I’m not ready to have this conversation.