Chapter Twelve
Once they gotLawson and the statue to the DWO, Lawson stopped talking. He hadn’t been making much sense before that, either. Bonnell ordered the statue locked up, and when she caught Bryce about to camp out in his office, told him to go home. He should have been crawling into his bed, pulling the covers over his head, and trying to go to sleep after such a shitshow of a night.
Yet, instead of heading back to his house, he wound up at Jesse’s door.
Bryce should stay away from him, but Alex had been in bad shape, and he had training for that kind of mental exposure. Jesse was on his own, and Bryce didn’t like the idea that he’d scour the internet instead of turning to anyone for help. Bryce needed to check on him.
If Jesse would let him. There was every chance he’d get a door slammed in his face, assuming he ever got access to the building.
Part of that was his fault. Denying Jesse access to the DWO was routine. Jesse would be safer if he wasn’t anywhere near the department. People, in general, were. Given the fact that Jesse had already reached out with a conspiracy story—and one that Bryce still needed to investigate—he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would let the case go.
Which was a reason to put more distance between them, not show up at his building unannounced like a lovesick teenager.
A five-minute health check was all Bryce needed to do. Then he could be on his way.
Bryce took his phone out and sent Jesse a quick text.Buzz me in.
It was well past midnight, and Bryce wasn’t sure Jesse had gotten his text. Or maybe not answering was Jesse’s way of telling him to go screw himself.
The door clicked, and Bryce went inside. The elevator ride to the fourth floor took an eternity and yet the doors opened sooner than he was ready.
He could still walk away and ghost Jesse. Never send another message or acknowledge him in any way. They didn’t know each other well. Bryce didn’t owe him anything.
Only, Jesse hadn’t hesitated when Alex was in trouble. He dug into mysteries that hurt people and tried to stop them. He just didn’t have the tools and resources Bryce did. That didn’t mean he could handle a job in the DWO, but Bryce knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he saw Jesse.
Jesse waited in the doorway of his apartment until he spotted Bryce in the hall. Then he disappeared inside. Since Bryce didn’t hear a door shut, he assumed he was meant to follow.
“I’ve got coffee,” Jesse said as Bryce entered the apartment.
“Little late for that.” Bryce shut the door.
Jesse shrugged. Making himself another cup in the kitchen, he seemed fine.
Then Bryce got a good look at the apartment and at him.
While it had been a mess before, Jesse had created a disaster. Papers covered the coffee table and the tops of boxes, and a few journals were strewn out on top of them. The printer was running and discarded ink cartridges adorned it. 90’s music played from the computer speakers. The apartment reeked of coffee, yet judging from the bags under Jesse’s eyes, he was exhausted and fighting it.
Jesus Christ, the incident with Lawson was only six hours ago. How unraveled would Jesse get in the next few days? Bryce hoped this was the worst.
“What’s going on?” Bryce said.
“Don’t give me that ‘is he a nutbag?’ tone.” Jesse headed for his couch. “You sure you don’t want any coffee?”
“I’m thinking you need a sleep aid instead of more caffeine. Give me that.” Bryce held out his hand for the mug.
“Sleep is not happening tonight. And you should be thankful I’m not in my right mind or I would have told you to fuck off.” Jesse scanned Bryce. “Or maybe not. I’m pissed and I’m not pissed at you. The whole wanting to bone you and not wanting to see your face is confusing.”
“Jesse—”
“I get that there is a necessary level of secrecy to the DWO. I’ve been going over my uncle’s journals, and the point was staring me right in the fucking face. People don’t react well to scary things. Hell, too many people use fear to turn people against other people. Terrify the shit out of them with aliens and monsters and they’d find some way to use that against other people. Doesn’t help that half this shit winds up involving some kind of cult. Which is its own level of fucked up. Who looks at a thing like Toothy and thinks, ‘hm, this would be agreatgod’? Well, okay, I was raised in a religion that had a guy nailed to some wood, so I guess ‘fucked up’ is subjective and prejudicial. But that statue justfeltevil.”
That was a lot more information than Jesse should have and too much that Bryce didn’t know. He ought to drag Jesse into the office and throw him in an interrogation room, but he was clearly shaken from what had happened that afternoon. If he was taken to the belly of the beast, so to speak, and then denied permanent access, Bryce wasn’t sure he’d recover.
Jesse squinted at Bryce. “You’re making me wish I was a telepath. Are those real?”
“Data is inconclusive. Most people don’t have distinct enough thoughts or hold on to them long enough to leave an impression, so there’s nothing for a telepath to pick up,” Bryce said. “Give me the coffee.”
“Make your own.”
