“I don’t doubt it. But if you think I’ll let you give me a crumb like that and leave it alone, then you’re not the man I thought you were.” He tilts his head. “This has something to do with Roger Vickers.”
“Jericho still has a big mouth, I see,” Xavier murmurs.
“Careful,” Sebastian warns. “I don’t have to give you anything. He doesn’t keep secrets from me, and you won’t insult him in front of me when he isn’t here to put you down himself.”
For the defence of my brother alone, Sebastian can have whatever information he wants. “Yes,” I say, before Xavier can respond. That path will only lead somewhere aggravating for us all. For all his suave swagger, he’s not always the best communicator. “We can’t find him, so we’re looking for the next best thing: his head of a security and right-hand man.”
“And this Terry knows where to find him?”
“That’s the theory.”
Sebastian sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright. Three o’clock. Do you need me to—”
“No. Someone will be there to pick him up.” Six and Moira will take care of it.
Sebastian rubs his eyebrow again. He does that when he’s particularly aggravated about something. The ire is directed at me, I’m sure. I don’t care as long as he gets me what I want.
It’s time to put an end to the man who thinks he can threaten me, or the people I care about, and get away with it. He disturbed the beehive and found a hornets’ nest instead.
Xavier
It’sclosertosevenin the evening before I receive a message from Hunter to let me know they have the information we need. One look at Miles, who is standing at the door to my office, a silent protector, and he knows. A single nod and I’m packing up to leave.
Hunter and Matthew aren’t at Hunter’s home and instead at the HQ in Mossman that Hunter uses as his staging ground.
I know the place, though I’ve never been inside.
Miles doesn’t ask for directions. It’s not the first time he’s driven by or parked nearby, watching the comings and goings. I’ve always kept an eye on Hunter from the shadows. Torturing myself by staying close, even when he wanted nothing to do with me.
Miles glances at me. “What’s the plan?”
“Find him, get what we need, kill him. Then we do the same to Roger.” A simple six-step plan. If Roger had left well enough alone, I’d have let him live. He’s not a rival, and he wasn’t athreat to my businesses. He changed the game and threw out the rules; now he’s going to die.
“And after that?”
A direct hit to the heart of the matter. “I don’t know.” I wish I did. Hunter is softening, but is that enough? Will he put distance between us again? My hands curl on my thighs. “I need him.”
Miles looks down at my hands. He visibly swallows and turns back to watch the road. Then slowly, so fucking slowly, the hand that was on the gear stick moves towards me.
My breath stops, heart pumping in my ears as I wait. He’s not wearing his gloves right now. They’re sitting in the glove box, waiting for him to put them on once we get there. He doesn’t always wear them around me, because he knows that I’m careful and won’t step over the invisible line he’s had around him his whole life.
Is he going to—?
His fingers slide carefully over mine, the touch electrifying. My heartbeat thickens, muscles tensing. The tips skate over the bumps of mine and the rings on my thumb and index finger. There are lines of heat everywhere he’s been. I want to tattoo the journey, a reminder of this moment. Eventually he stops, curled around my hand, anchored there.
Anchoringme.
I can’t stop staring at where we’re clasped together. I’ve slept in the same bed as him, been a hair's breadth from touching his lips with mine, and this is the closest we’ve ever been.
His hand tightens around me when I thumb his skin. So fucking soft despite everything I’ve asked of him. None of his sins have soaked in, making him the perfect weapon.Myweapon.
He belongs to me, just the same as Hunter. And Matthew. Our sweet, sweet teacher, in over his head. He has no real idea ofwhat he’s stepped in, and that he’ll never be able to leave. I let him touch what’s mine. That makes him mine as well.
Miles stops at the lights, and I look up to find him watching me. Almost warily, like a stray cat deciding whether or not it wants to run. I never want him to run from me. I’ve spent years earning his trust, his loyalty, his love. He means too much to me; I couldn’t stand the thought of having him startle and bolt.
Of course, I’d chase him to the end of the world and drag him back. That won’t make it hurt less. The same way that Hunter carves out my heart every time he turns from me.
We don’t exchange words. We have no need for them. His hand in mine speaks far louder than anything I could think of to say.
