Vigilante 01 - Who Knows the Storm (14 page)

“What does he do for a living?”

“Gamble badly and not try to fuck me.” Cade leaned back in the chair. “Your turn.”

Nox considered his answer. “You already know my name….”

A scoff. “Patrick Mullens is a bullshit alias. You’re not Spider-Man.”

“Actually that’s Peter Parker!” Sam yelled through the door.

Nox rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand. Of course Sam hadn’t gone far. “I’m Patrick—”

“You’re not thirty-seven and you clearly don’t live in Boston,” Cade interrupted. “So I’m going to extrapolate you aren’t Patrick Mullens either.”

Nox didn’t respond.

The door creaked open. Sam poked his head in, looking warily from one to the other. “Mullens
is
our last name,” he said, casting a look at his father, part reprimand and part fear.

Cade side-eyed him.

“Nox,” he said finally. “Nox Mullens. I use Patrick when I visit the District,” he added, a simple lie—which earned another scoff from Cade.

“You can’t use aliases. You have to use your government identification to get an account at the Iron Butterfly,” he drawled. “So you’re either Nox or Patrick. Or… neither.”

Chapter Seventeen

C
ADE
WATCHED
Nox’s gaze flit around the room. The power dynamic shifted—he was enjoying that. Oh yeah. This guy tromped all over the place acting like he could do whatever he wanted, but he’d fucked with the wrong pretty face.

“Listen, I’m not going to turn you in. I’m going to forget all the shitty things you’ve done to me in the past twenty-four hours and appreciate things like that massive tip you left me and the fact that you saved my life. But.” He held up his hand. “You need to let me know this isn’t a scam and that money is going to show up in my account tomorrow.”

“The money will be there, believe me.” Something resembling a smile curved on Nox’s mouth. “And my name is Nox.”

“Mullens.”

Not even a twitch. “Yes.”

“And you have the credit to back your recent sexual transactions at the Iron Butterfly?”

“You have a one-track mind,” Nox said as Sam made another uncomfortable noise in the background. “Yes. For the last time.”

“So you’re some kind of con man?”

Nox tipped his head to one side. Suddenly Patrick Mullens appeared on that bed, his smile absolutely devastating.

“Something like that,” he said, all charm and sparkling eyes.

Well, shit.

Cade threw his hands in the air. “Fuck it, whatever. You’re a con man, I still get paid, and it’ll help when they fucking fire me.” He looked over at Sam, who was trying to blend in with the wall as he edged inside. “Sorry.”

Sam bit his bottom lip, pushed his glasses up from where they’d slid down his nose. “You’re going to get fired?”

“I missed my shift, didn’t call.” Cade’s amusement plummeted as reality set in. “Two cardinal rules broken and smashed to dust.”

“Dad,” the kid said in a pleading voice.

Nox toyed with the napkin for a moment, Patrick Mullens gone once again. “Get me the cell from the kitchen drawer.”

Chapter Eighteen

“R
ACHEL
M
OON
,
please,” Nox said, all cheerful charm as he called the Iron Butterfly switchboard. His stomach was full of rocks, his heart thudding like a bomb about to go off.

“Speaking,” the feminine voice on the other end of the line said.

“Ms. Moon, this is Patrick Mullens—I was there last evening during that unfortunate… alarm event.” He let his tone drop into something disappointed.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Mullens. We are so sorry for the inconvenience. I apologize for any distress that terrible prank caused.”

“It was quite upsetting.” Nox went quiet for a moment to let her sweat. To listen for tells.

“I hope I can find a way to make it up to you,” she offered quickly, and Nox made a sound of agreement.

“Well, I know there’s a way you can help me,” he said briskly. “I had Mr. Creel come to my hotel room for the afternoon—to make up for our interrupted time. He was quite apologetic about the whole thing—he’s got a lovely begging voice.” Nox laughed, low and dirty.

Cade glared at him from across the room.

“Oh. Well. Mr. Creel knows that all business should be conducted—”

Nox cut Rachel off. “He told me that, but quite frankly, Ms. Moon, I didn’t trust your ability to keep me—safe—at the Iron Butterfly. I wanted my paid-for time, Cade did an admirable job in making it up to me, and I’m afraid I took a bit more than he had expected.”

Rachel hummed in response.

“He’s spending some time recuperating in my room. He’ll be back in the morning.” There was a finality to Nox’s words—and it left Rachel in exactly the awkward position he wanted.

“Of course. Thank you for letting me know—I was getting worried when he didn’t show up,” Rachel answered smoothly. “Please let him know to check in with me when he arrives.”

“Certainly. Good night.”

Nox ended the call with a whoosh of air from his straining lungs. He glanced over at Cade, who looked mildly impressed.

“Not fired.”

S
AM
DISAPPEARED
after that, mumbling something about his own dinner—and most likely horrified by the implications of Nox’s conversation. As for Nox, he settled into his now cold dinner.

“How about one more question?”

Nox shoved a forkful of meat in his mouth so he didn’t have to answer.

“Why did you jet when the alarm went off? Dudes who rescue babies and kick street gang butt don’t seem the type to run off at the first warning bell.” Cade rolled his chair closer as Nox tried to ignore him.

“After everything that happened during the storms, you learn not to ignore warnings,” Nox said simply. “Then I ran into someone I thought I knew in the hall, and….”

He caught himself before he said anything else.

“Who?”

Nox swallowed. “Your boss, Ms. Moon. I told her to go and unlock your cuffs.”

“Oh.” Cade settled back in the chair, looking at him curiously. “You thought Rachel was someone else?”

A beat.

“Yeah. Someone I knew when I was a kid.”

“Well, Rachel’s from the city. She was away at school during the Evacuation, though,” Cade said easily, no detectable deception in his tone. “Her family’s from—I think it was called Brighton?”

“Brighton Beach.”

“Right, right.”

Nox took a sip of his tea, eyes trained on his leg, which was throbbing in time with his growing headache.

“It’s gone now,” he said while Cade nodded, his expression sad.

“Yeah—she hates to talk about it.” He laughed nervously. “She’d probably kill me for even telling you this.”

A little jolt skittered across Nox’s skin.

Chapter Nineteen

C
ADE
WATCHED
Nox as he ate, feeling slightly creepy. There were more sides and personalities to this guy than he could figure out—at least the crazy asshole with the gun could be put in perspective after Sam’s story.

“How old were you? If you don’t mind me asking?” He rolled even closer to the side of the bed.

Nox gave him a side-eye. “When….”

“When you found him. Sam.”

“He told you that?”

Cade squirmed a little under the intense glare. “Yeah. I think it’s amazing, actually. Must’ve been fucking terrifying for you, finding a baby.”

There was a long pause; Cade expected the anger to come, but instead, melancholy filled the room.

“It all worked out,” Nox said carefully, his gaze locked on the empty plates in front of him.

“That’s a pretty mild way to put it,” Cade laughed. “I would have pissed myself.”

“Adrenaline.”

“You were alone—what? Seventeen, eighteen?”

A beat. “Sixteen.”

Cade didn’t hide his surprise. “Fuck. I’m even more impressed. My life at sixteen was hiding gay porn from my mother and trying to get out of feeding the goats.”

Nox actually laughed. “That sounds better than my story,” he said, almost wistful.

The moment stretched on, Nox staring blindly at the far wall, and Cade realized he wasn’t getting much more than what he already had—and maybe he’d heard more than anyone else.

Nox seemed to come out of his little mental wander. He cast those brutally blue eyes in Cade’s direction.

Their gazes locked for a moment. Then Nox looked away.

“You should probably head back to the guest room. It’s pretty late.”

“Uh, right, thanks.” Cade pushed away from the bed, stood up, then put the chair back at the desk. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, I guess.”

Nox didn’t look up or say anything else. Cade let himself out of the room.

I
N
THE
late morning Cade emerged from the guest room to find his clothes neatly cleaned and pressed on a chair and a cup of coffee on a small table nearby.

Weirdest not-kidnapping ever.

He was nervous about going back to the Iron Butterfly, fully aware that not being fired didn’t mean Zed and Rachel would overlook his rule violation. He knew better.

Cade dressed slowly, feeling aches and pains all over his body. Well, at least when Rachel offered his ass to the more brutal customers, he would have a head start on hurting.

He exited the room, mug in hand, and walked a few feet. He heard a throat being cleared and looked up to discover a dressed Nox glowering from the top of the stairs.

“Oh, hi.”

Nox gave him a nod. “Sam is going to walk you down to where a cab will meet you at the border.”

Cade tried to rein in his surprise. “Great. Thank you.”

Nox used the banister as support as he walked down. The baggy jeans and heavy wool sweater once again hid Patrick Mullens’s suave flair.

“I realize we got off to a bad start. I just wanted to make sure that when you left here, you understood….” He glanced at the floor before lifting his eyes to Cade’s. “I need to keep my business private, or else my son could suffer the consequences,” he murmured.

“Right.” Cade wasn’t thrilled with helping a con man, but at the end of the day, who was he to judge what people did to make a living? He wasn’t exactly living the purest lifestyle either. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m not going to do anything to screw with your kid’s life.”

Nox looked relieved. “Thank you.”

A creak on the floor turned Cade around.

Sam, dressed for the cold in a puffy jacket and woolen cap, stood there, smiling. “Ready?”

Cade checked his watch as he stood. “Yeah, I gotta go. You need anything else?”

“No. Thank you, though.” Nox’s face was guarded. “But I need to ask you….”

Cade held a hand up. “I can’t for the life of me remember your address.”

To beat the laugh, Cade got a smile that reached Nox’s eyes.

S
AM
FELL
into silence as they headed down the front steps, bundled against the cold. The sun was bright overhead, melting the snow into a manageable slush.

“So… you go to the school?” Cade asked, awkward as he considered the words. Did they have schools here? He hadn’t seen anything on his treks up here that indicated schools or businesses beyond the one market. Hell, he hadn’t seen many kids either.

“No. There aren’t any in this neighborhood, and the only one up here in the Old City was too far to go every day,” Sam answered. “So I did it online.”

“Must suck to not hang out with your friends every day.” High school was a fucking dream for Cade, playing football and writing for the paper. Out and proud, which meant he got about a 60/40 ratio of fawning to hate. The girls loved him, and there wasn’t a better deterrent to asshole bullies than having a gaggle of cheerleader fag hags.

He’d learned to have a lack of shame very early on.

“Ha.” Sam kicked through some slushy puddles. “I don’t really—I mean, there’s some guys at work who are nice, but that’s about it.”

Cade shook his head. “You’re breaking my heart. How the hell do you find girls sitting at home, going to school on your computer?”

That cracked Sam up. “Well, I’m actually done with school now—I work full-time. And, uh, I don’t really care about meeting girls.” His voice cracked a little at the end.

Oh.

“That’s cool. I didn’t much care about girls either when I was your age.” Cade skirted around a snow-covered root as they turned the corner. “Then we need to find you some nice boys.”

Sam sputtered out an embarrassed laugh. “You know in these neighborhoods there aren’t many teenagers, right? Like—there are some little kids a few blocks over, but people my age? No. They mostly got evacuated.”

Or died.
But neither of them said it.

Cade could see his cab idling in the distance. “You’re saying this stuff and I feel like it’s a challenge,” he teased gently. Sam was a nice kid, cute as hell—Cade wanted to tuck him into a bag and ship him to the farm for home cooking and a few normal years of chasing boys and breaking hearts.

“I’d settle for you helping me find some information about my parents, to be honest. The rest of it….” Sam shrugged. “That doesn’t really matter in the end.”

“I disagree, and when we have more time, I’ll give you a fabulous presentation on the joys of hot guys and having fun.”

When they reached the edge of the pathway, Cade suddenly regretted his carefree song and dance. He’d be taking the cab back to his luxurious life—a safe life that had followed a comfortable and trauma-free upbringing. Rachel’s words haunted him. How many people on the outside would kill for what he had?

This kid just wanted to know his name.

“Listen, you got a cell phone?”

Sam nodded, digging into his pocket. He produced an archaic model that further shamed Cade as he pulled out the latest bit of technology. One of his regulars owned the parent company in Japan and was generous with gifts.

They exchanged numbers, as the driver honked twice to let Cade know the meter was running.