Assassin's Promise, The Red Team Series, Book 5 (29 page)

“Maybe you should.”

Rocco lowered his gaze, staring at nothing. “She asked me to stand with her today. I said no.”

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. He looked over at Val. “Maybe the worst thing isn’t wading through the black. Maybe it’s losing Mandy. How far you willing to go for her? Far enough to fix yourself?”

“I can’t even see the edges of it, Val. What if I’m not fixable?”

Val lifted one of the curtain panels. “You see that guy out there? He lost his legs. They’re gone. No way is he ever getting them back. But you know what? He’s learning a new normal.” He looked at Rocco. “Maybe this thing following you around is your new normal. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’ll end. Maybe it won’t. The shrink should be able to guide you through it. You know that. If you don’t want to see him, then talk to us. Talk to Mandy. You can’t cave in to it, Rocco. Not when you got all of us behind you.”

Rocco sighed. “There’s not a lot left of me, Val.”

“That’s okay. We’ll re-gen you like some freaky sci-fi project. Grow a new you—better, faster, stronger. We could inject your cells into a lab rat and see what happens.”

Rocco laughed. “I’d kill the rat. Or become it.” He pushed aside the curtain again and looked out. Maybe he already was the rat, leaving Mandy to her triumph alone as he had.

* * *

When the session ended, Mandy’s client was as wobbly-legged as a new foal…and happy as all get out. Angel and the guy’s friend bookended him down the mounting ramp.
 

“That was amazing. I’ve never been so happy to walk in circles. Well, I wasn’t walking. The horse was. But it felt like me. I felt free again. First time since this happened.” He looked at Mandy as she joined them. “I want to come every day.”

She shook her head. “Let’s work up to that. How about twice a week for a couple of weeks, then we’ll reevaluate? We can work up to a full trail ride, when you’re ready.”

“Yeah. I’m ready.” They chatted about his next visit, then both men shook hands with Mandy. “I’m going to tell them about this, the others at rehab. You’re going to be busy as all hell.”

Mandy kept her sigh to herself, thrilled with the work, yet saddened that it was needed. “I’m here to help. Bring a few of them out with you next time.”

Her client grinned. “Don’t think I won’t!”

Angel stood beside her as they watched their visitor’s car roll down the drive. “Thanks for your help, Angel.”

“Anytime.”
 

He looked at her as the silence stretched between them. Mandy wished she’d not let the silence speak for her.

“I’ll talk to Rocco,” he said quietly.

Mandy blinked and focused on breathing so she wouldn’t cry. “There’s no point. You can lead a horse to water, and all.”

Angel’s face was like stone as she moved past him to head back to the house.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Fiona was at the Swinging Monkey Tiki Bar in old town Fort Collins with her friends. The giant green stamp on her hand warned servers she was too young to drink. It didn’t matter. She was there as a DD anyway.
 

The bar was slammed, the jungle-beat music throbbing. It was hard to hear her friends. But she saw that something—or someone—had captured their attention. She looked to see what it was, and a familiar pair of deep brown eyes met hers. Her breath hitched in her chest. Kelan was here! He’d said he was going to come down and spend the night with her at their apartment.

The music switched to a different, quieter song. One of her friends slapped a five-dollar bill in the center of the table and announced, “Five bucks to the first of us who can get him to come join us.”

Fiona grinned. “Guys. Not a good idea—” It was too late. Her friend was already making a beeline for Kelan. Fiona watched, feeling a strange mixture of jealousy and worry. She hadn’t told them much about her summer, only that she’d met an amazing guy during her babysitting gig.
 

Kelan crossed his arms and glared down at her friend, saying nothing. Her friend stayed long enough to try to extricate herself without losing her composure. When she came back to the table, the next one made her attempt. This time she got a raised black eyebrow.

“Guys, stop this. Really—” Her words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by a new, louder tune. The third attempt made Kelan lift his gaze across the room and pin her with the blackest look she’d ever seen.
 

“My turn,” she announced before his patience broke.

Kelan saw Fiona approach him. The noise of the bar receded, drowned out by the sound of his thundering blood. His gaze narrowed on his woman, only her. Everything else in the room faded away.
 

Don’t touch her. Don’t touch her,
he ordered himself. It had been days since he’d seen her. He’d been having severe withdrawals.

She didn’t stop until her toes touched his. He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t take his eyes off her. All he allowed himself was to breathe her scent deep, deep into his lungs, giving his soul a nibble of the woman it craved.

She reached out and touched his chest, letting the flat of her palm stroke his pec. A shiver ripped along his spine. His cock speared to life, lying sideways and swollen in his jeans. She moved closer still, stepping between his spread legs. Both of her hands were on him then. He watched her, his gaze intensifying every second she stayed so near him.

She reached up and hooked her hands on his shoulders. Standing on her tippy toes, she kissed the bare skin at his open collar. He bent his head slightly, dragging the sweet fragrance of her hair into his nose, his lungs, his whole goddamned body.

Her tongue peeped out and licked where she’d been kissing. Her mouth worked its way up as high as she could reach. “Kiss me, Kelan,” she whispered harshly.

He wrapped his arms around her, one around her narrow waist and the swell of her hips, the other up under her shoulder blades, lifting her. Pinning her body to his. He took her mouth, fucking it with his tongue, performing the only sex act allowed in such a public place.

A small mewling sound came from deep in Fiona’s throat, rippling into his mouth as if they weren’t separate beings. She gripped the back of his head, tightening the seal of their lips while he ate at her mouth.

“Pull back, Fiona. Pull back now. Or I swear I will find a bare stretch of wall to take you against. I will claim you right here. Right now.”

Fiona did pull back a little, but only to smile at him. “Will you? We can end this waiting?”

His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. He set her a few inches from his body. “Are you twenty-one yet?”

Of course he knew she wasn’t. She held up her fist, showing the ugly green stamp. “No. And everyone here knows it.”

“Then don’t start a game you can’t end.”

She grinned, certain of his self-control. “I want to end it.”

“As do I.” He looked beyond her to the table where she’d been with others. “Are these girls your friends?”

“Some of them. Will you join us?”

“Only if you sit on my lap to protect me from them.”

“Deal!”

* * *
 

Remi shut her laptop and listened to the quiet in her room as she leaned back in her desk chair. The silence made her edgy. She didn’t want to be alone. She wondered what Greer was doing. Funny; she’d gotten so used to having him around that she missed him when he wasn’t there. He’d kept his word about not rushing what was happening between them, giving her the room she needed for the past few days.
 

She wondered, when this was all over, where would they stand? Did they have a chance at a relationship, as he believed? And would they still—once he found out the truth about her?

She showered, then dried her hair and put makeup on as if she were going out. In truth, she was just going down to the billiards room. She stepped into her closet and tried on a few different combinations of tops and pants, then decided to go slouchy, choosing a fitted tee, her jeans, and her simple leather sandals.
 

It wasn’t like her to be so insecure about what she wore. It was just that she only had a subset of clothes here, and she’d worn them all. Big deal. Everyone knew she was just visiting. Greer in particular never paid much attention to what she wore, though granted, most of the time, they were running somewhere or he was fighting someone or they were dropping their clothes on the floor.
 

She stepped out of her room and went down the hall to his. She knocked twice, waited, then knocked again. No answer. Turning around, she supposed he could be anywhere. She heard voices coming from somewhere downstairs.
 

She went down the staircase in his wing, then headed toward the sound of people. They were in the billiards room. She looked around the masculine space with its wood-paneled walls and leather furniture. At one side of the room was an antique bar, made from mahogany featuring densely carved panels and classic columns. An age-stained beveled mirror was its central focus.
 

Almost everyone in the household was there. Looked like a private club open only to adults living in the house. The Jacksons and the kids were absent. Greer was nowhere to be seen. Was he still below, in the bunker? He wasn’t in his room.

“Hey, doc! Come on in!” Eden greeted her in a friendly way, waving her deeper into the room.
 

Remi smiled and nodded. She was looking forward to the chance to get to know the women better. For most of the time she’d been here, she’d been working—in her room, in here, or in the bunker.
 

Val was behind the bar pouring what looked like a whiskey. Eden and Angel were at the pool table. Selena was with them, ready to take on the winner. Kit, Owen, Rocco, Max, and Ty were playing a hand of poker. The rest of the women were seated on the burgundy leather sofas and armchairs, having a friendly discussion.
 

The guys nodded, smiled, or just ignored her as they concentrated on their activities. No one seemed concerned or resentful that she’d joined them.
 

Remi sat at the end of one of the sofas. “I thought maybe Greer would be down here.”

“He’ll probably be along soon,” Mandy said. “Did you want something to drink? Val can mix any drink you can think of. Or maybe a glass of wine?”

“Name your poison, professor,” Val called from the bar.
 

Remi smiled. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Good choice! One Balcones coming up.”

Owen looked over at them. Val smiled at her. She didn’t understand that exchange, but there was a lot about these people she didn’t get.
 

“Thanks,” she said as Val handed the drink to her.
 

“Greer mentioned you’ve been working on an academic article,” Ivy said.
 

Remi nodded. “Every couple of years, I select a different isolationist group here in the U.S. to study. Lately, I’ve been focusing on the Friendship Community.”

“Are there so many different ones in the U.S.?” Hope asked.

“I don’t think there’s a good estimate on a number. I would guess there’s upward of a thousand. The government puts it somewhere north of four hundred.”

“I had no idea there’s so many.”

Remi shrugged. “Groups like the ones I study are elusive. New ones form all the time. Old ones disband or dissolve. It’s a constantly changing landscape. The Friendship Community is one of the older ones. It started in the nineteenth century as a utopian society. It had all but died out until the Great Depression kicked it into gear again. Every wave of fear that passes through the main U.S. population infuses it with new vigor. It’s now stronger than it’s ever been and has been growing steadily for thirty years. My paper focuses on what’s made it survive—and now thrive—for so long. The social cohesion at its core.”

“That sounds fascinating,” Mandy said. “Will we be able to read your finished paper?”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to read it before you publish it,” Owen said. Remi hadn’t been aware that he’d joined their group.

She looked into his cold blue eyes. “You said you weren’t interested in my research.”

“I’m interested in your analysis.”

“What makes a cult a cult, Remi?” Ivy asked.

Remi smiled. “That’s an easy question to ask and a hard one to answer. Depends on the group’s ideation. It could be centered around religion, hate, fear. Anything could be a unifying thread that pulls a group together. Once together, however, it uses fear, dread, and mind control to keep the group together.”

“God, that sounds like us,” Ivy said. Kit had come over to their group. Remi didn’t miss the way his hand tightened on her shoulder.

Remi shook her head. She understood this group so much better than she had just days ago. “This isn’t a cult. Maybe an enclave, but not a cult.” She smiled at Kit. “You identify with a mission, but your lives aren’t centered around a leader.” She looked at Owen, whose pale blue eyes showed no emotion, then back to Ivy. “You’re careful about who comes into your midst, but you also exist in the wider external society. You don’t eschew science. You embrace different races and religions.”

“Good save,” Val said, chuckling.
 

Remi realized the entire group was standing around them, listening. “It’s no save at all. I don’t hold back. If I thought this group was a cult, I’d say it.” And that was the truth. She realized, now, there were big differences between this group and a cult.

Someone came into the room. Remi turned to see Greer heading toward them. He wore flip-flops, tight jeans, and a gray V-neck T-shirt. The black leather and silver bands made a wide cuff on his right wrist, and were balanced by the tactical watch on his left wrist. His hair was still damp and wavy. He hadn’t shaved, but his stubble didn’t soften his hard jaw or that cleft in his chin that Remi found so fascinating.

He looked at her, almost as if checking her well being, then glanced around at the group, his gaze hitting on Owen and Kit. “S’going on?”

“Late to class, as usual,” Blade said, grinning.

“Remi’s teaching us about cults,” Mandy said.