Chapter 26
Zeus
I've never gotten comfortable on a job. I don't know that I've allowed myself to even consider it when I'm not working.
My flee when shit goes sideways instinct is too strong, but as we approach the small building with the matching symbol to the one Ricky told us is where we'd be staying, I realize that could never be an issue here.
Candy called it a cabin, but it's exactly like one of those small buildings someone would put in their backyard to park their lawnmower and store their tools.
The doorknob, if you could even call it that, is a twist handle with a metal mechanism that shifts a piece of metal inside the frame.
There's no real security in it at all. There's a keyhole, but we weren't offered a key.
I have to presume that Bobby and the other powers that be feel entitled to gain access to any building on the property at any time, and I suppose that ownership comes with some level of access.
But the idea that anyone can come up on us at any time makes my skin crawl.
"Home sweet home," I mutter, unable to hide the disdain in my voice as Zayne reaches for the doorknob.
Instead of quickly agreeing with me, he pauses, hand raised to turn the knob as he looks back at me.
What I read as disappointment swims in his eyes, and it takes me back to a time in my early life that I've always tried my best to avoid thinking about. I hate the way it makes me feel, and I have to fight the urge to cower and shrink inside myself.
"You're looking at me like my dad used to," I confess, wondering how he'll receive my vulnerability.
He swallows, his head shaking a little as if an apology. "That's not my intention."
His voice is low, just above a whisper, but his face shifts, his features transitioning into a look more reminiscent of understanding.
"You have to watch what you say," he explains. "Not only with others in the group but also with me. I have no doubt every inch of this place is wired for audio, and I've already noticed a half dozen cameras."
"Sure," I agree, pulling in a deep breath.
"I'm just as unhappy to have to do the things we have to do while we're here, but organizations like this are always one step away from implosion.
They take and take and take from people all the while expecting gratitude and compliance, but all it takes is pissing off the wrong person on the wrong day for shit to go nuclear.
The surveillance is just as much about keeping people out as it is about keeping people in and knowing what their next move may be should they decide to buck the rules. "
I nod. Every word out of his mouth makes perfect sense, and I hate that my consideration of all that shit has come secondary to newly awakened emotions.
I swallow down the urge to mentally blame his arrival and joining of Cerberus because that's not only untrue, it's unfair to both of us, and pointing the finger at someone for something they have no control over is a level of narcissism I refuse to engage in.
He gives me a weak smile before opening the door and stepping inside.
The shift in his disposition once inside tells me that he's putting on an act, and I can do nothing but go along with it.
If the room is bugged, we have to play our part.
We're the new guys, and I'd say suspicions for everyone on the compound are at an all-time high.
No doubt higher for me than Mr. Charismatic.
"Oh, it's insulated. This is great," he says just as I'm following him inside.
The shed at least has paneling up on the walls.
From the outside, I fully expected it to be nothing but exposed two-by-fours, exactly like a small outbuilding, where the only protection the items inside need is from the rain.
There's no real decor, and it's very similar to the hunting cabins we've been robbing.
A set of bunk beds is on the far wall. I don't know if they're strategically placed directly across from the door, making it impossible for anyone in the bed to get the upper hand if someone decides to gain access to the building, or if that's the only place they would fit.
There's a small sofa to the left with a table made of two cinder blocks and a flat piece of rough-cut wood for the top in front of it, and that's it.
"Nice," I say with as much enthusiasm as I can manage, and honestly, it's not very fucking much. "No kitchen?"
"Don't need one," he answers with his back to me, his hands lifting the sheet on the lower bunk, clearly checking for bed bugs. "The bitches at the dining hall cook for us."
Even without seeing his face, I know him well enough to detect the hint of disgust in his face for the words he used.
"Yeah," I say as I spin around, my eyes searching for any sign we're under surveillance.
"What about a bathroom?" I ask, noticing very quickly there's no other door leading to any other room.
"Piss in a bottle," Zayne says. "The map shows multiple bathhouses scattered throughout the property."
I scan the room as I listen to him, realizing that this compound isn't all that different from a combat outpost, and hate the familiarity of it because the functionality of the two of them is so far from each other.
I continue to scan the room, my eyes landing on a larger-than-needed smoke detector for the square footage of this place. It feels out of place for such a rustic building, and that makes it more than a little suspicious.
I stare at it, waiting for the small indication light to flash, and when it never does, I look away.
"Top bunk or bottom bunk?" I ask, drawing his attention. When he looks in my direction, I gently nod my head in the direction of the detector.
"Don't matter to me," he says, inching in that direction to nonchalantly inspect the thing himself.
"I sleepwalk sometimes. Remember?" I say, eyes still scouring the room. "I'd prefer not to fall six feet if that happens."
"I'll take the top," he says, turning to look in my direction.
I watch him as he points to his mouth, then nods his head before pointing to his eyes and shaking his head.
We have audio surveillance, not video. I dip my head in understanding.
At least we could write notes to each other if there's just something we have to say, and it would go unnoticed.
But the idea that we won't have a single fucking private moment scratches at my skin no differently than the sand did when the wind picked up in the Middle East. I just know that, similarly, it's going to be a constant irritation that will be damn near impossible to fully adjust to.
"You don't mind about the bunk?"
Zayne's eyes trail down the length of me that has no business in this situation, within these walls, and of course, it has his exact expected response, my cock growing heavy in my jeans.
I narrow my eyes at him in warning because there's shit all we can do in this cabin, in this fucking compound, about the way he's looking at me right now.
"I prefer the bottom," he says in a tone no different from the one he'd use when talking to anyone else, but it's the look in his eyes that tells me his true emotion. "But the top is fine."
I get the distinct feeling that he's no longer talking about bunk beds.
"I think I would prefer the top, but maybe we can switch back and forth," I say, loving the way his eyes go wide. "I mean, if I don't sleepwalk."
His smile is wide, lighting up his entire handsome face, and damn if it isn't going to be impossible to keep my hands off of him while we're here. But that life-or-death threat is more than enough to keep me in check.
"I'm fucking beat," Zayne says, a true yawn escaping his lips. "Think I'll grab a couple of hours."
"Yeah," I agree, following his lead because the man has been in situations like this before and understands what would be expected of us.
He walks forward and gives my hand a squeeze before climbing into the top bunk.
I kick off my boots and settle into the bottom bunk, knowing full well that my chances of sleeping are almost zero.
***
My brain comes back online before my eyes even open.
My ears home in on every sound, but it's the touch on my body that decides my first response. My arm shoots out, hands clamping around soft flesh just as my eyes snap open.
"Shit," I grunt, releasing Zayne's throat immediately before sitting up. "Sorry."
He rubs his throat, a weird smile on his face, which makes me narrow my eyes.
I'm not in a position to ask, knowing there's a listening device in the room, but it isn't the first time he's reacted a little strangely to a hint of pain.
The first time it happened, he seemed just as surprised as I felt, but the weird grin tells me he might be leaning into it a little more.
The conversations I need to have with this man are growing by the minute.
"Good dream?" he asks with a wink, taking a step back and giving me room to stand.
I shake my head, attempting to look a little disappointed, but the way the corners of my mouth are curled up, I know it's a battle I've already lost.
"What's up?" I ask with a grunt, stretching my arms over my head, and frowning when my hands hit the low ceiling.
This place almost feels like a cage, but I also know it's the best place on the compound that gives us a chance to decompress.
As much as I hate it, I also don't want to leave it anytime soon, although I know that's not possible.
We can't get the information we need to end this shit if we stay hidden away in here.
"Listen," he says, forcing me to pay more attention to my surroundings.
Music drifts around the room.
"I think there's a party. Could be fun," he says, and I know it's more of a reminder that we need to get to work rather than him wanting to go have a good time.
He opens the door to the building, and I'm surprised by the darkness outside.
"How long did I fucking sleep?"
"All fucking day. Should be fully rested," he says as he steps outside.