“Yes. He sleeps a lot.”
“I’ll ask Kairo to take over your teams for a bit.”
I nod. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Keep me posted, Oxley.”
“I will. I’m sorry I fucked up, Arath.”
“You’re fine. Just remember what we’ve always agreed on. Communication. I have your back, brother, but I need to know what’s going on.”
I nod again, wincing at my failure. “I will. Sorry.”
“Go take care of him. Call me later.”
“Yeah. Later. Bye.”
We hang up, and I stare at my phone for a minute. I didn’t check in with my team! Did they think I was dead? Surely someone must have seen me leave, or Arath would have called sooner than the next night. We were supposed to have a debrief today, something I always call for. This is likely what sent up the alarm, and someone called Arath.
Kairo is going to be an ass about it. Maybe I should block his number for a while.
I glance at the single photograph sitting on the mantle of me and my brothers. Our oldest brother is Jalon, then there’s a fourteen-year gap before Arath, me, Kairo, and Noaz were born, no more than thirteen months between us. I often wonder why there was such a time span between Jalon and Arath, but I’ve never bothered to ask. It never really mattered.
By the time I was ten, Jalon already had a house full of kids. Strange little gremlins. I adore them all. There are only three years between Jalon’s oldest, Myro, and our youngest sibling, Noaz, and only nine years between Noaz and Jalon’s youngest, Loren. It makes for a very interesting family mix when we get together. Especially considering that we’ve all remained in the family business, where there’s a little something for everyone, both legal and not-quite-so legal.
I’ve always appreciated Arath growing up. He and Kairo are as opposite as people can get when it comes to dealing with me. Kairo has no patience at all, and Arath could wait a year if that’s what I needed. Like right now, I need time.
I head back to the bedroom and stand in the doorway. His monitor is peaceful. Rhythmic. Just how they should be. The lamp on my desk is still on, though dim. Since I’m not entirely sure what to do with myself right now, I go back to my desk and work.
I’m not entirely productive since I can’t stop thinking about the man behind me. Asleep. Shot. His scream. The fear that rushed through me when I heard it!
That’s why I responded. It was his scream. Not that I haven’t heard screaming before. Yesterday, there were many other people screaming and running for cover from the gunshots. But my brain homed in on this man’s. My eyes locked on him as if I’d known right where he’d be.
Nothing else around me truly registered after that. I ran, probably risking my life, through the street until I was crouched beside him. Watching him bleed. His scream still echoing in my head. The way he fell, the terror on his face.
My thoughts halt when I hear the bed rustle behind me. After a second, it quiets, but it isn’t long before he moves again.
Setting down my pen, I turn to look at him. Is he uncomfortable? What can I do about that?
“Ox?” he asks.
“Oxley. What’s wrong?” I get up, standing at the side of the bed to look at him. “Do you hurt?”
He shakes his head, a small smile forming on his perfect lips. “No. Why are you still awake?”
“Did I wake you?”
“You didn’t, no. But your light keeps waking me.”
“I’m sorry.” I turn back and shut it off, plunging us into darkness. There’s a nightlight in the hallway that offers a little glow. Otherwise, there’s nothing.
“This is your room, isn’t it?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” I match my tone to his. Keeping our voices low, as if we’ll wake up the dead if we speak too loudly.
“Why didn’t you put me somewhere else?”
“I’m close by in here,” I tell him. “In case you needed something.”
