Vigilante 01 - Who Knows the Storm (23 page)

“Yes, yes.” The old man took another sip of tea. “Do you know Cade? He’s such a lovely boy. Natalie told me to send him on the errands.”

Nox’s stomach turned. “He doesn’t know her… my mother? Does he?”
Please, please let Cade be innocent in all this
, he prayed.

Mr. White set his cup down, looking over at the nurse then back to Nox. “Natalie said to use him because he had more freedom to move around. Because he’s her favorite.” He made a face at that.

“Her? My mom?” The conversation was giving Nox a sick headache. As much as he wanted confirmation he was right, it felt like daggers being slipped into his heart.

“No, Rachel’s.” Mr. White’s displeasure showed on his face. “Horrible woman.”

Wait
.

Nox moved slowly back to the couch. “You don’t like Rachel.”

“She’s rude to me. She tried to have me banned, but Zed knows….” That lost expression settled back on his face and his eyes went out of focus.

“Knows…?”

Mr. White cocked his head to one side. “Knows what’s good for him and his casino.”

The nurse was skittering in the background, moving toward the window, then back to the corner.

Nox narrowed his eyes. “What’s her problem? Are you expecting someone?”

“We’re the only ones here. This is my home,” Mr. White said. “No one comes here but her. And you. It’s so beautiful here—I don’t know why everyone stays away.”

Nox wanted to slap him. “Maybe it’s the blood on the walls.”

Mr. White sighed, crossing his legs carefully. “I wasn’t there. It wasn’t my fault.”

“You should have done something.” Nox’s anger rolled and receded. “They all died.” His mother hadn’t stood a chance, but everyone else, the people he passed that night, out of their minds and unable to escape—they all drowned.

God, if he could only snap this bastard’s neck.

Mr. White shook his head. “They were suffering, each and every one of them. It was the… merciful thing to do.”

Nox’s throat froze for a moment, his brain misfiring information. “You—you left them here to fend for themselves on purpose,” he said, slowly. Carefully.

“No. We locked the doors and opened the valves so the flood waters would move quickly throughout the lower floors,” he responded so matter-of-factly that Nox had to shake his head to clear the buzzing sound.

Not incompetence. Murder.

“Why would you do that? Why not just let the National Guard get those people out?” asked Nox slowly.

“The owner sent word to take care of them,” Mr. White said, as if he was giving directions to a garden party. “And I agreed. We locked the doors and let the water take them. Since my beautiful Natalie was dead, what use was this place anyway?” he added, a sad droop to his mouth.

Nox’s stomach dropped. “Your Natalie.”

The old man looked away, staring into the distance as if lost in a memory. “He didn’t love her like I did.”

Nausea crawled up his throat; he swallowed again and again to keep from vomiting on his shoes.

“She wasn’t well—she didn’t… she could barely understand what was going on around her when she was here,” Nox choked out. “The drugs. She was
sick
.”

“Such a beautiful girl. So docile and giving,” Mr. White rambled on as if Nox had said nothing. “She would lie there so sweetly, without protest…. When I found out we were expecting, I was so delighted. We could be a family….”

Nox threw himself across the room, lunging for the man’s neck. The white-hot rage blocked all rational thought as he knocked Mr. White to the floor. The teacup flew in one direction, the chair in another. Nox straddled his chest and wrapped his fingers around the papery-skinned neck of this… rapist.

Mr. White didn’t fight him, didn’t even try to knock away his hands. He closed his eyes, a smile blooming as Nox choked the life out of him.

This man was his brother’s biological father. This rapist, this monster. This piece of garbage.

He squeezed until Mr. White stilled under him, and a death rattle escaped as he pulled his hands away.

When Nox sat back, he stared down at the elderly man, so harmless-looking. So peaceful.

Sam’s father.

He closed his eyes and tried to stem the flow of his tears.

When he opened his eyes, it was to Millicent stepping over her charge’s body, pointing out the keys to Mr. White’s Hummer.

Chapter Forty-two

C
ADE
PACKED
his bags after Nox left, lost in his thoughts. He chose only the important things to fit in his duffel and backpack—clothes, shoes, a few pictures and mementos, sheets, towels, what food he had in the cupboard—because life as he’d known it for the past few years was over. It was looking more and more like his future was in the past.

Back home on the farm in South Carolina.

With one last look around—his bed, his view, his fancy clothes—Cade stepped out of the apartment. The gun Nox gave him sat in the inside pocket of his overcoat, a heavy reminder that he was in danger, in the middle of a fucking mess he had no idea how to get out of.

He took the stairs down to the lobby, pausing briefly at the door to the first floor. Alec was still missing. He didn’t ask Nox about it because, well, things being what they were, it wasn’t the top of his priority list.

I hope you’re safe, wherever you are
, Cade thought morosely as he exited the building through the heavy door into the parking garage.

He stuck to the back alleys again, stopping briefly at two separate cafés to grab a large coffee and then a few sandwiches. Somewhere in all of this, they’d have to remember to eat.

At the printing place, Cade went through the back entrance. It was dark and hauntingly quiet. He assumed Sam was still asleep as he made his way to the office where they’d set up camp.

The camp light provided enough illumination for Cade to unpack a few things. A heavy cable-knit sweater to put on when he took his overcoat off and a second pair of socks when he kicked his boots aside. There was no furniture, so he made use of the duffel as a seat as he drank his coffee.

Fuck, he was tired.

And scared.

And confused.

Because somewhere along the way, he’d lost the thread. A simple favor had woven him into the fabric of a weird little family, a world of violence, a place where no one told the truth about who they were.

Cade had always maintained a persona to keep himself emotionally safe, and now? Now it was shattered by this compulsive need to be around Nox, to help him, to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone. And it made no sense at all, because Cade was smarter than that. Way smarter—and if he was hearing this story from a friend, he would haul off and slap them for being so stupid.

He’s going to get you killed
, his brother’s voice bitched.

Cade didn’t disagree, but he also didn’t leave.

T
HE
NIGHTMARE
was ugly as nightmares went. Cade ran through the streets of the Old City, a screaming mob on his heels. He could hear their violent threats and feel the fire of their torches, the whiz of bullets flying past his head. His lungs nearly burst from the struggle to escape, because he knew if he stopped, if they caught him, he’d be dead.

Up ahead he saw Nox, in his hooded sweatshirt, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh thank God,” Cade wept, using the last of his energy to push himself, arms and legs pumping as he desperately tried to reach Nox’s side.

Because he’d protect him. He would stop the mob, because he had his gun out and he was angling it…

Against his head.

“No, no, stop! Don’t do that!” Cade screamed, reaching out as if to swat the gun away. “Don’t.”

He was twenty feet away. Ten. Five.

“This way you’ll be safe,” Nox murmured, pulling the trigger just as Cade reached him.

C
ADE
WOKE
with a start, breathing harshly, as if he really had run from the mob.

As if he’d seen Nox kill himself.

When he heard a loud bang from the back door, then footsteps, the adrenaline rush still coursing through his veins prompted him to grab the gun with shaky hands. He clutched the weapon a bit tighter and left the safety of the office to investigate.

The shadows were easy to find cover in; he wove through and around and under, swallowing sneezes from the dust- and debris-heavy air. More heavy footsteps, this time closer.

Cade tightened his finger around the trigger of the gun. As much as he didn’t relish the idea of shooting someone, he was damn sure he wasn’t going down without a fight. He’d put himself between danger and Sam, and Cade wasn’t about to let him down.

Panic coursed through Cade’s body. Was it even Nox? Had the police found them?

A shadow moved in front of him so quickly he didn’t have time to aim—which was a good thing, because it was Nox, a dark silhouette suddenly appearing in front of him.

Cade jumped back and nearly wound up on his ass. It was a reminder of the moment they met, which made him choke on a hysterical laugh. “I could have sh-shot you.” Cade doubled over, swallowing a sudden flood of tears and giggles, his whole body shaking with the effort to breathe. The past few weeks, the past few moments—that fucking dream—it all caught up with him in a violent rush. When Nox rested a gentle hand on his back, he fought the urge to sob.

“Come on, you need to sleep. I got what we need for now,” Nox said, his voice as soft as his touch. “Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” Cade murmured, trying to stand straight. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and gravity was trying to bring him down flat.

There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

Nox didn’t say anything. He wrapped an arm around Cade’s shoulders, guiding him back to the office.

Cade leaned against the wall.

“Let me make you up a bed,” Nox said. His expression was unreadable, and Cade couldn’t bear to ask what was wrong. He knew what the problems were as each of them thudded through his head like a slide show of doom.

Tears started running down Cade’s face then, and he couldn’t have stopped them if he tried. He was so fucking tired and so scared, and what if the police found them? By the time Nox led him to the pallet on the floor, Cade had gone around the bend into someplace terrifying.

It was hopeless.

Nox slipped a coat over his arms, pushed the hood up over his head. He maneuvered him down onto a stack of mats covered with a blanket.

“You’re fine. It’s going to be okay,” Nox said, and Cade realized he was talking out loud. As he rested his head back on something soft, Cade looked up at his lover.

Nox still didn’t look him in the eye, his face drawn and hands shaking.

“You don’t believe that,” Cade whispered. He rolled to his side, precarious on the narrow makeshift bed, and closed his eyes.

I
T
WASN
’
T
long—five minutes, maybe ten, if that. Cade tried to calm his breathing, tried to find a place where he could think again, where he could find the strength to keep going. The quiet shattered a second later as Nox’s shouts echoed down the hall.

Cade sat up, fumbling with the covers and extra clothes to get up. He could hear Nox swearing and shouting, hear things being kicked and thrown down the hallway.

“What? What?” Cade yelled, running out the office door.

“Sam’s gone,” Nox said, running past Cade.

“He’s—”

“He left, there’s no note. His coat is gone,” Nox said frantically, back in the office and digging through his bag. When he stood up and turned around, Cade wasn’t surprised to see the Sig in his hand.

Cade swallowed hard. “Where are we going to look for him?”

He’d seen Nox’s anger many times over the past week. He’d also seen his fear and his sadness, but nothing prepared him for the expression of pure loathing and fury playing over his features.

“We’re going to see Rachel.”

Chapter Forty-three

T
HEY
TOOK
the back alleys from the printing place to the side entrance of the Iron Butterfly. It had the least amount of traffic—it was primarily for the cleaning and kitchen staff, and at this time of night, it wouldn’t be used at all. Cade used his code with trembling fingers—it was a long shot, but it was all they had at the moment, since there was no way to waltz into the front door or, God forbid, try to get past Billy. Nox pressed up against his back with his gun out. He waited for the responding code, but instead, the door creaked open.

A kid, one of the lower-rung security grunts, opened the door with a panicked expression on his face.

“Rachel’s expecting me,” Cade said, putting his hand on the door and one foot inside, his smile as charming as he could manage under the circumstances. “She said to go right up.”

“I—I need a pass,” the kid managed, his voice shaking. He looked all of about nineteen and fresh off the ferry from someplace not so terrifying.

“You can call up to Ms. Moon’s office,” Cade bluffed.

The snick of Nox’s gun put a halt to the conversation. It was pointed directly at the kid’s forehead.

Cade pushed in, dragging the kid with him.

“Jesus, seriously,” he huffed, pushing the quivering teenager to the floor. It didn’t take much effort. “I was going to get us in.”

“No time,” Nox snapped, already stalking up the stairs.

“Gimme your pass,” Cade told the security plebe—who handed it over without hesitation. “Thank you. Now do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here.”

Cade pocketed the all-access pass, running after Nox.

You could practically hear the sonic boom as the kid ran out the back door.

The pass got them into the back stairwell.

Nox hadn’t articulated his plan to Cade, but he was pretty sure it involved intimidation and violence.