He took a plate of pancakes when offered and speared a bite with his fork. “So, what did you have in mind?”
“Right to it, eh?” Ivan grinned.
“I’m not a morning person.”
Ivan shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “My brother-in-law was killed in Russia recently. He was on a babysitting job. My sister is beside herself, and I don’t like it when my sister is upset.”
Jonah chewed, swallowed, and then carefully set his fork down. “You want me to get the person he was babysitting?”
Ivan shook his head. “It’s already open season on that kid. I want the men who shot Brutus. Maybe even the man who ordered it.”
Jonah’s stomach twisted into a knot as Madigan’s words echoed in his head:“A little American hacker pissed off some Russians.”He no longer cared about this potential job, the pancakes, or the man sitting across from him. Open season on Cas? Jonah wondered what the price on his head was and how many out there were pursuing him.
He frowned. “And who would that be?”
“Not a clue. That’s where you come in.”
Jonah barked out a laugh. “I’m not a fucking detective.”
“Yes, yes. You’re a line cook, not a chef. I understand.” Ivan gave him a condescending smirk, which Jonah did his best to ignore.
“So, you called me over here for nothing. Call me back when you have names. A description, at the very least.” Jonah started to push back from the table, but Ivan lifted a hand to halt him.
“There are pancakes, are there not? So, not nothing.” Ivan leaned closer, planting an elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand as he gazed at Jonah. “I heard a rumor, too, that you might know the man Brutus was babysitting. If that were the case, perhaps you could ask him. See what he remembers. If he’s still alive, that is.”
“I haven’t seen him in years.” Jonah set his jaw as he stood. “We went separate ways on bad terms.”
Ivan gave Jonah an assessing stare, which he weathered without blinking, then nodded. “Fair. In that case, maybe you’d be interested in the bounty yourself. And if that happened to be the case, perhaps you could ask him a few questions first. I’d make it worth your while.”
“What’s the figure?”
“One hundred thousand. Thereabouts. Or so I’ve heard.” Ivan forked another pancake onto his plate and carefully poured syrup over it. “And an additional fifteen thousand from me for any information you could extract from him.”
Jonah had to work hard not to grind his molars to dust as he nodded. “I’ll let you know.”
All the way across the parking lot, he couldn’t stop thinking about Bennie and how he would’ve undoubtedly said the situation Jonah now found himself in was Fate.
As soon as he made it back to his car, he picked up the phone and dialed Madigan. “I need another favor,” he said when he answered, and then held the phone away from his ear when Madi’s delighted laughter boomed across the line.
Fuck Fate.
11
Caspian
Sometimes, Cas just laid on the couch watching until Jonah’s light went out. There was something weirdly comforting about knowing Jonah slept just above. If hypervigilant Jonah felt it was safe to sleep, then it must be safe to sleep. Cas sighed, scratching just below his belly button as he stared up into the darkness.
But Jonah wasn’t home. He hadn’t been home for a week. He was away again on one of his ‘special trips.’ He hated when Jonah was away. Cas didn’t know why, but when he was alone, the tiny apartment felt cavernous, the stillness of the air making him restless, his thoughts skipping like rocks over a lake. Especially on nights like this when the weather outside seemed as chaotic and wild as Cas’s mind, sparking some kind of electrical impulse in his blood, leaving him amped and jittery without an outlet for all of his pent-up energy.
When he was little, storms terrified him. He’d run into his parents’ room and try to hide under their bed. When his mother would catch him she would remind him that he could count the spaces between the lightning and the thunder to know how far away the storm was. The longer the space, the farther away the storm.
There were no spaces tonight. Thunder rumbled, even as lightning lit up the room, rain pounding heavy on the pitched tin roof, creating a white noise that made Cas a little dizzy. Maybe he’d just taken too much medication. He didn’t even know anymore. He stared longingly at the ladder, itching to give in and just do it, just climb up into Jonah’s bed and make himself at home. It had been so long since he’d dared.
Two things made Jonah’s room special: the slanted roof which consisted entirely of windows and the fact that Jonah had expressly forbidden Cas from ever going up there. So, of course, Cas went up there anytime he felt particularly brave, which, if he was being truthful, wasn’t often. He would hate to get caught and upset Jonah. Cas hated upsetting Jonah. It wasn’t like Jonah would beat him up or anything. He just had a way of grunting and sighing when Cas did something wrong and it made Cas feel small.
Cas didn’t want to be a burden to Jonah. He did everything he could to make Jonah see him as a man, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant yet. He was eighteen. Old enough to vote. Old enough to go to war. Back in the olden days, he’d have his own farm and a wife and shit, but Jonah just saw him as the same dumb kid who had followed him home from the bus station like a stray puppy. Cas bet a stray puppy would have had an invite to Jonah’s bed.
Fuck it. Cas flung the threadbare sheet off and climbed the ladder, feeling a little dirty as he flopped onto Jonah’s bed, starfishing on the mattress as rain cascaded down the windows overhead. He watched the spectacle of the storm for a moment or two, hoping to convince himself the windows were his only reason for climbing the ladder, but it didn’t work. He rolled onto his belly, burying his face in Jonah’s pillows, inhaling deeply.
