His eyes widened. I had forgotten the bandage along my collarbone and the numerous bruises across my torso. It was too late to use my powers and hide them. Booker might not know how I had gotten them, but he’d be suspicious. His fingers hovered over a scar at the top of my stomach, a burn mark from Flint, a pyromaniac who tormented Southland. His fingers never quite touched the skin, but focusing on them felt like relief from the guilt trying to consume me.
When he lowered his hand, it was as if the bad thoughts came rushing in. My ability to regulate my emotions had all but vanished. I kicked off my shoes, turned around, and crawled into bed. Clenching my body pillow, I hid my face in it. If he lingered, he’d see me cry again. I heard the familiar click of the light switch, but noshoes scuffing along the floor. I didn’t know if I wanted him to stay as I spiraled into another breakdown or have him go, leaving me alone to deal with this.
Shoes scuffed. There were a couple of thunks. I didn’t expect to feel weight pressing down on the mattress springs. Booker lay close enough that I could feel the warmth from his body, but not close enough to touch. He could have called Wyatt or Orion to babysit, but instead,hestayed. It was almost too much to process. There were so many conflicting emotions trying to force their way to the surface.
His hand rested between my shoulder blades. Unmoving, his palm served as a life raft. I focused on the heat, the pressure, the intimacy of it. My heartbeat slowed. For a moment, I could breathe. All that mattered was the man behind me, and the hand he rested against my back.
“Sleep,” he whispered.
I didn’t want to, not yet. Booker had answered a need I could never verbalize, and I wanted to revel in it. I didn’t want to fall asleep until I memorized the sensation of his thumb running over the edge of my shoulder blade. I’d stay… awake… as long as I…
6
Wyatt: Friend Drew, where are you?
Orion: I’m the one who’s supposed to be fashionably late.
Orion: Stop stealing my moves.
Wyatt: Janet suggested we tell Arthur you’re visiting your Aunt Flo.
Orion: Oh, I can’t wait to see this.
Wyatt: Friend Drew, we have your back.
Late to work.No time to iron. I didn’t have time to bring pastries, homemade or store-bought. My untimely arrival got odd looks from Arthur and Connor. Janet had given me a giant wink as if I had done something to earn her approval. I had a thousand things to worry about, and as I sat back in my chair, I could still feel Booker’s hand.
I wanted to daydream about what would havehappened had he been there when I woke up. In the middle of the night, he had crawled out of bed, taken the cooler, and excused himself. Before he left, he set out a glass of water and a handful of aspirin. I couldn’t tell if it was romantic or practical.
“Drew.” Janet’s voice on the intercom nearly had me peeing myself. “There is a Ms. LaToya here to see you.”
Shit. Not today of all days.
“If you’d like, I can entertain her.” Entertain meant flirt. Janet had no boundaries.
I pressed the button. “Send her in.”
I did a quick pat-down, trying to stretch the wrinkles out of my dress shirt. It didn’t help. I gave my beard a quick brush and prepared for another round of Carmen LaToya making idle threats and refusing to budge on her proposal. After last night, I’d rather deal with the devil herself than sort through what happened.
Carmen didn’t knock. She walked in with a smug expression on her face and closed the door behind her. This blue blazer made it harder to spot the shoulder holster, but I knew it was there. Now that I thought about it, I wondered if there were any other weapons stashed away. We rarely dealt with clients I had to frisk. Then again, I didn’t have many clients who spent their days surrounded by people capable of bending steel without breaking a sweat.
“Carmen.” First name. She wouldn’t recognize it as aslight, but I did. Last night had been a catastrophe, or at least that’s how I remembered it. “It’s always a pleasure.”
She took a seat without being offered. I suspected Carmen LaToya didn’t wait for permission. She laid the briefcase on my desk but didn’t open it. Her lack of an introduction pushed the conversation into silence, an intimidation tactic. I had watched Booker do the same thing in his interviews.
“This game—” I gestured to her. “—is getting old.”
Rude? I couldn’t remember the last time I had been intentionally rude. I tried to recalibrate and return to the fun-loving Drew everybody knew. My mind couldn’t focus on the here and now. I kept thinking about the scientist and the sensation of his neck tucked into the crook of my arm. The hysteria that followed had transformed into grief. Now, I was confused, as if my emotions had betrayed me. My reaction hardly made sense.
“Should I come back when you’re not so distracted?”
“Only if you’re ready to sign.” I caught the gasp in my throat. “What are the new terms?”
When Carmen smirked, it didn’t read as humor. Not in a funny, ha ha, kind of way. It was more like a cat about to devour a mouse. I wanted to see her on the opposite side of the desk from Booker. Which of them would crack first? Could he get her to spill all the dirty secrets?
“Something has changed.”
“In the contract?”
