Chapter 6 #2
“Well.” Indy pulls his hand out from behind his back to display two foil-wrapped packages with steam still wafting between the edges. “I brought something to eat. For breakfast. I didn’t think you’d feel like cooking yourself this morning, not when you’re still recovering.”
I look at the two round packages in his hand. “What are they?”
He gives me a small, crooked smile. “Breakfast sandwiches. I’m sure they’re not very good. But—” He shrugs. “I thought I’d offer.”
“Did you make them?”
“I did.” Indy follows me inside and shuts the door behind him.
“That’s why I said they’re probably not good.
Eden is always ribbing me about being a bad cook.
But I never really needed to learn, you know?
Being overseas so much, and once I wasn’t, it was weird, trying to do it one-handed.
But I’ve gotten a little better since I moved here. ”
I’m not really hungry, but there’s no way I’m turning Indy’s peace offering down. Or at least, that’s what I’m assuming it is.
“Well, they smell good,” I tell him. “So that’s a good start.”
Another rare smile appears; this time a rueful one. “You haven’t tasted it yet. You might say something different once you do.”
In silent agreement, we head over to the kitchen island and sit side-by-side on the stools in front of it.
I unwrap my sandwich to find a slightly-mashed hamburger roll with overcooked egg, a melted slice of processed cheese, and some soggy bacon tucked inside it.
“See,” Indy adds as he eyeballs my breakfast sandwich. “Not great. Like I said.”
After the first few bites, I can agree. But I won’t say that to him.
Because as pissed as I am at Indy, I still don’t want to hurt his feelings.
Especially when I can picture him in his kitchen, his brow furrowed as he tries to put everything together, then sweetly wrapping them in foil so he can bring them over to share with me.
“It’s good,” I say after washing down a dry mouthful of egg with a sip of freshly brewed blueberry crumble coffee. “Thank you for bringing one for me.”
He shoots me a skeptical look. “Good? I wouldn’t go that far. I’d say edible at best.”
“It takes time to get good at cooking.” My still-unsettled stomach declares itself full, and I force down one last bite before setting my sandwich back on the plate. “Sorry,” I add, “but I’m just not that hungry. It has nothing to do with the food.”
Concern darkens his gaze. “How are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous? Sensitivity to light? Severe pain?”
“Just a headache, mostly. My stomach’s a little off, but I think that’s partly the stress. And I’m tired. But I didn’t sleep well last night. I—”
Stop. He doesn’t need to know how I slept.
“I’m sorry I had to keep texting you. But it was that or come over in person. And I didn’t really think you’d appreciate my showing up at your door at three AM.”
At three AM, honestly, I don’t think I’d have minded.
“It’s fine.” I wave off his concern. “But.”
He spins his stool so he’s facing me. “But?”
“I guess… I was wondering if I could look around the building? Instead of just staying in the apartment? It’s nice and all. But it feels kind of strange. Not really knowing where I am.”
Indy frowns. After a brief hesitation, he says, “With your concussion, rest is really the best treatment. But I can understand why you’d want to look around.”
“Can I? Would that be okay? Or do I have to stay in here?”
He sets his nearly finished sandwich down.
“You’re not a prisoner here, Bea. You can go anywhere on the property you want.
I didn’t offer to take you around yesterday because you’d just woken up.
” He pauses to think. “But if you want a quick tour today, we could do that. Not outside, not until you’ve had more time to rest, but I could show you around the house. ”
“The house? I thought it was your company headquarters?”
Indy slides off his stool and picks up the remnants of our sandwiches, then rounds the counter to drop them into the trash in the corner of the room.
He comes back to me and helps me off the stool, resting his hand on my back until I’m steady.
“It’s a house and our headquarters,” he replies.
As he leads me towards the front door, he adds, “We wanted something that wouldn’t look like a business.
So we found a half-finished estate that we could turn into what we needed. ”
At the door, he stops to look at me. Concern is still worked into his features. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Bea? It’s only been a couple of days—”
“Physical activity is good when you’re recovering from a concussion. Not vigorous activity, but walking is okay.”
With a small sigh, he opens the door. “Okay. But we’re going to take it slow. And if you feel dizzy or tired, you tell me right away.”
Looking into his worried gaze, more of my anger ebbs away. Not entirely, but it’s really hard to be mad at Indy when he’s going out of his way to make sure I’m okay.
And those sad little breakfast sandwiches didn’t hurt, either.
“I’ll tell you,” I promise. “So. What about the house? Or the estate?”
“It’s eight thousand square feet,” he replies. “On thirteen acres outside Newberg, which is about forty minutes from Portland. Close enough to get to the airport quickly, but remote enough for the privacy we want.”
We take a left from my apartment to head down a hallway lined with doors on either side. “Eight thousand square feet is pretty big, isn’t it?” Compared to my eight-hundred square foot apartment in DC, it sounds enormous, really.
“Yeah.” Indy’s hand grazes my back as we walk, setting tiny sparks of electricity off across my skin.
Which means nothing. It’s probably just lingering adrenaline. Or stress.
“The previous owner wanted to turn it into a small ranch,” Indy continues.
“Not a working one. I think they call them a gentleman’s ranch, or something like that.
But he changed his mind halfway through.
So we—well, Blade and Arrow—made an offer to buy it as is.
It meant several months of renovations, but it was worth it. ”
I glance at one of the doors as we pass.
A cheerful Christmas wreath still hangs from a hook on the front of it, all decked in red ribbons and pinecones and silver jingle bells.
Indy follows my gaze and chuckles. “That’s Webb’s apartment.
Eden put wreaths on all our doors, but Webb’s the only one who hasn’t gotten around to taking his down yet. ”
“That was nice of her.”
Eden stopped by yesterday evening to re-introduce herself, of sorts.
I’d met her a couple times—briefly—when Indy first started seeing me for therapy.
But it was nice to hear from her about Blade and Arrow, how they’d helped her when she was in trouble, and that she trusted them all with her life.
“I know it’s scary,” she told me, “but you can trust them. Indy’s got the biggest heart, though he’d never let on.
Rafe… well, he’s just amazing. And Ace, Tyler, and Webb?
You’ll like them, too. It won’t be that bad being here, I promise. ”
“Eden’s the one who’s taken charge of decorating,” Indy says. “And with Christmas… she really went all out.” Affection softens his features. “It made her happy. And that was nice to see.”
From the tone of his voice, I can tell there’s a story there. I got my first hint of it last night talking to Eden, and now with Indy…
But it’s not my business. And really, I have bigger things to worry about right now. Like how I’m going to find out who framed me and avoid being convicted of murder.
“We all live on the property,” he continues.
“Me, Webb, and Ace have apartments right by yours. Eden and Rafe have a small house in the woods, just past the backyard. We built it so they could have some extra privacy. And Tyler, he has a cabin close to them. He’s not that comfortable—” He stops.
“Anyway. We’re all here. Making sure you’re safe.
And the entire property is surrounded by heavy-duty fences and hundreds of alarms and cameras.
The gates are only accessible by biometric entry. So no one’s going to get to you here.”
Exiting the hallway, we enter a large living area with a two-story lofted ceiling and huge wall-to-ceiling windows.
Indy gestures at the expansive space. “We use this room for group get-togethers, movie nights, holidays, the occasional party… You’re welcome to come out here any time. We have a fireplace, too.”
He leads me to the stone-faced fireplace that takes up half of one wall. There’s a remote on the mantel above it. He clicks it on, and flames burst to life. “Any time you want to sit by the fire, go ahead,” he adds. “Don’t worry about asking.”
My original assumptions about the Blade and Arrow headquarters reshuffle.
While I was scouring the website, I was imagining austere rooms lit by glaring, fluorescent lights, filled with metal desks and rows of computers and large monitors covering the walls.
Large, locked cabinets would hold stockpiles of weapons, and there would be burly, intimidating men barking orders and scowling.
But it’s clear my assumptions were wrong.
Because this room? It’s nice. Really nice.
I could see myself snuggling up on the couch facing the fireplace, reading or watching a cooking show on the TV hung above it.
There’s not a desk or computer in sight, aside from a laptop on the coffee table, with a bottle of soda sitting beside it.
And aside from Indy, who’s burly but not terribly intimidating, at least not to me, the room is quiet and empty.