Vigilante 01 - Who Knows the Storm (27 page)

“A plan for what?”

“To get the fuck out of the city. Damian has a line on a boat we can use….”

“A boat?” Nox rubbed his hands up and down Cade’s back, relieved and overwhelmed.

“Damian thinks he can get us a boat to take us down the coast.” Cade tipped his head back, and Nox saw everything—this terrible situation and the hope flaring in his eyes.

“Down….”

“South Carolina. My parents’ farm.” Cade was talking fast, so Nox just nodded. “I could get word to them and they’d take us in—all of us. My mom could help Sam—my dad and my brother.” He stopped to take a breath. “They could help us.”

Nox wanted to refuse him, to veto this plan, but the truth was, he didn’t have another solution to their problems at this moment. They were wanted, Sam was hurt—hiding in the city meant always risking being found. He didn’t have the security of the shadows anymore. Worse, he didn’t have any answers. The mystery man’s identity was buried under layers of security he couldn’t seem to penetrate. The gang leader didn’t know; Brownigan—well, whatever he knew got him killed before Nox even got a chance to ask.

They’d be safe at the farm, at least for a while.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he said.

Cade slumped against him in relief. “Thank you,” he whispered. He pushed up to lay a gentle kiss on Nox’s mouth, the sweetness of the gesture making Nox weak in the knees. He cupped his hand against Cade’s cheek, bringing him back in to deepen the kiss. They stood there in each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses, until someone cleared their throat.

Damian.

“I need a cell phone and access to a computer network that isn’t connected to the city,” he announced, hands in his pockets as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. “And probably a lot of money.”

N
OX
AND
Cade, arms around each other, walked back to where the rest of them were hiding. Rachel stood defiantly in the corner, a tiny smirk on her face.

Nox’s back went up like a pissed-off cat’s.

“She’s not coming,” Nox said, letting go of Cade reluctantly. Damian trailed behind, twisting his hands nervously in front of him.

“Yes, she is.” Cade grabbed at his hand, but Nox didn’t stop. He walked right up to her.

His gaze met Rachel’s—and she didn’t even blink.

“I’m not leaving without her,” Cade said.

“You don’t owe her anything,” he said, low and angry, fists tight against his thighs. Rachel’s chin went up and she looked at him with accusing eyes.

Cade’s words seemed to come from her. “No, but you do.”

She’d alerted them to Sam’s whereabouts. More than that, she’d kept his secret for all these years.

Cade didn’t blink, didn’t look away. There was anger in his expression, but oh, the pleading in his pale eyes.

Please. Do this for me. Do this for Sam.

“I won’t tell him,” Rachel murmured. “Jenny’s dead. I just want to be away from here. I just need a way off the island,” she whispered, the façade dropping for a moment as she leaned in closer. “This wasn’t me, Nox. It wasn’t. The only reason I’m alive right now is because Zed was kind enough to warn me.”

The implication, the echo of what she was saying, sat thick in the air between them.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I found your kid. Because I let you live all those years ago,” she hissed. “I almost died on that fucking ferry and I still kept your secret! I stayed away from you so even if they figured out it was me, I couldn’t lead them to you!”

Nox stared at her. Of all the faces Rachel—and Jenny—had worn in front of him, this was the closest thing to human he could remember.

“You’re a murderer and I don’t trust you. But if I take you along, at least I know you aren’t running to your friends to come after us.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed something, and his gut told him to throw her in the river and get the hell out of here. But then she nodded, putting her hands up in supplication.

“Thank you,” Cade was saying behind him; Nox felt a soft touch against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“If you compromise us in any way, I’ll kill you.”

Cade froze beside him.

Rachel went pale, but he saw the respect in her eyes.
Understood
, she mouthed.

Epilogue

N
OX
LEFT
Sam on the bottom deck of the yacht, sleeping in the master bedroom under a pile of blankets, under the watchful eye of a nearby Mason, who couldn’t—wouldn’t—be budged.

He tried not to dwell on what was going on there.

Up top, Damian nervously paced the aft deck as the rays of sunrise poked out from behind the New Jersey skyline.

Outwardly calm, Nox walked the boards of the
S.S. Miriam
, sharing quick glances with the three crew members. He’d vetted them, menaced them, and then laid some serious cash in their hands.

Only the captain knew where they were going; the rest only needed to know betrayal equaled a bullet.

T
HE
MAIN
space was well-kept, all gleaming wood paneling, stainless steel appliances, and expensive fabric on the couches. A narrow staircase led Cade to the bottom deck, where doors to three bedrooms and a bathroom beckoned. Only one light was lit, though—the master bedroom.

Voices drew him to the doorway.

In the center of the seventies-chic bed, Sam lay wrapped in a blanket, only his hair peeking out. Mason, dressed in a pair of Cade’s jeans and a sweater, was next to him, leaning against the headboard. They barely touched, but there was no mistaking the intimacy between them.

“Hey,” he said, calling their attention. Cade noted the way Mason put another few inches between his body and Sam’s but didn’t jump off the bed. So feeling cautious but not ashamed, Cade guessed.

Mason nodded. Sam poked his head up so Cade could see his rheumy eyes.

“I think we’re leaving in a few minutes.” Cade smiled. “Just wanted to warn you against sudden lurches.” He stepped into the room, dropped his bag near the door. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Sam croaked through the blanket. His voice cracked, a wheeze punctuating the sound. “Better.”

Cade patted the blanket, assuming it was Sam’s knee or close to it. “Yeah, I can hear that,” he said without sarcasm. “Looks like you’re in good hands.”

Mason caught his eye, flushing under Cade’s smile.

“Need anything?” Cade included them both—in response, Sam shrugged as he lay back down, as if he’d used up his energy in thirty seconds of conversation. Mason watched him, a frown teasing at his mouth.

“Maybe some water,” Mason said, gaze never leaving Sam.

“Good idea.” Another pat, pat, pat on Sam’s leg and Cade straightened up. “Give me a few minutes.”

They didn’t seem to notice him leave, nor did they look up as Cade backed into Nox, who was standing right outside the stateroom door.

“Sorry,” Cade murmured.

Nox put his hand on Cade’s hip to steady him—gentle, possessive—and they stood for a moment, back to chest, watching Sam and Mason.

“You doing okay?” Nox whispered in his ear.

Cade pushed back, needing more of his lover’s warmth. They were leaving, they were going to be safe—and yet Cade felt like cold tendrils from the island were twining around his ankles, determined to keep them here.

“Yeah—just… impatient to get moving,” he said softly. In the room, Mason fussed with Sam’s blankets, his expression devoted.

“Hmm,” Nox said, clearly distracted.

Cade swallowed a tired laugh. “He’s old enough to date, and Mason’s not so old that it’s creepy,” he whispered, turning his head to give Nox a grin.

“I’m not dealing with this right now.” Nox sighed, keeping his arm around Cade as they walked back toward the galley.

T
HE
YACHT
sailed under the skeleton of the Verrazano Bridge, around the rusted pylons, and headed south. The captain and crew moved in perfect tandem; Nox leaned against the port railing, welcoming the sun on his face and shoulders after being in that dark restaurant for so long.

He watched the horizon, not the disappearing skyline behind him. He would rather think about the future.

Except….

A noise alerted him to the presence of someone else on the deck. He turned his head to find Rachel, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, coming to stand next to him. They hadn’t seen her for dinner, nor the quick head count Nox insisted on.

His back stiffened; despite her seeming change of heart, Nox still couldn’t relax around Jenny.

Rachel.

“I meant what I said,” Nox said, staring at the choppy water below.

Rachel turned slowly; in the scant light, he saw one eyebrow raised and a smirk of amusement on her face. “My word wasn’t good enough the first time?”

“I don’t trust you,” he murmured, low and urgent. Sam slept below deck, with Mason keeping watch. The crew, sleeping in shifts, were nowhere near. Cade had been in the shower when Nox had said he needed some air.

“You should learn to let go of the past, Nox. It was a long time ago and we’re all different people,” she said, steely and calm.

“You’re still a murderer.”

Rachel laughed. “So are you, my darling.”

They stood in silence, streaming through the water and out to sea.

“I’m curious—is Mr. White dead?” Rachel asked, breaking the quiet as the sun set completely in the distance.

Nox tightened his grip on the railing. “Yes.”

“You know, then?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” Rachel tightened the blanket around her shoulders. “Another thing to keep from young Sam.”

“He’s never going to know.” Finality in every syllable.

“About Mr. White? About your shared lineage?” Rachel tipped her head to one side, that smirk still dancing around her mouth. Behind them, a light went on, bathing them both.

“None of it.” He reached out and grabbed her upper arm, squeezed it tightly. “They’re all dead—my mother and father, that piece-of-shit rapist.” Nox paused. “Jenny.”

Rachel stared at him long and hard, then—smiled. “True,” she said softly. “And Rachel is just some nice woman who helped you and Sam in your time of need. A friend of Cade’s. You’re his devoted father, who would do anything to protect him. All is right in his world.”

Nox’s stomach tightened. Every instinct reminded him Rachel could not be trusted. He didn’t answer her, just kept their gazes locked until she looked away and he dropped his hand from her arm.

“Change of subject?” Rachel asked.

He was just about to turn away, eager to check on Sam. Eager to crawl into bed with Cade. He paused a moment, though, his muscles tightening as he waited. “What?”

“We got away pretty easily,” she said, head tilted to one side. “No one’s after us so far.”

Nox frowned. “I made sure….”

“Someone knew you were at the restaurant. They sent Damian and I there, but not the cops,” she mused. “Damian got a boat, found the only trustworthy crew in the city, apparently. Got an injured teenager, a cop, and several people with warrants out for their arrest all the way here without even a tail. For suspect number one, you sure didn’t attract attention.” At the end of her little speech, she paused. “Ever wonder—why didn’t they just kill you?”

It took him aback.

It moved him a literal step back; then he turned on his heel and let his surprise and anger fuel him down below deck. They directed him physically even as his mind bounced around.

Sam being let out of jail.

The warning when they could have easily put a bullet in his head.

Getting out of the Iron Butterfly before the bomb went off.

In the master stateroom, Sam lay curled up under the blankets, Mason’s upper body spooned around him, one leg on the floor, his sidearm visible. Protecting Sam.

Nox felt gratitude and a pang of sadness at the same time.

He closed the door quietly and made his way to the smaller bedroom on the opposite side of the deck.

Nox moved in the darkness, making his way around the tiny stateroom. Their gear was stashed on top of a dresser in the corner, moonlight creating patterns as it shone through the round window over the bed. He stripped down to his underwear, silent and stealthy.

Clad only in boxers, Cade slept on, flat on his back, arms akimbo.

A spike of relief shot through Nox as he settled next to Cade. The mattress dipping roused Cade; he turned his head with a quiet sound of confusion.

“Shhh, go back to sleep,” Nox whispered, but Cade struggled to open his eyes even as he pulled Nox closer.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Nox pressed a kiss against Cade’s ear. “Everything’s fine.”

Cade sighed, winding around him until Nox was a prisoner in the bed, trapped by the bulk of his lover’s body. Cade used him like a mattress, pressing him down as he got comfortable.

“Go to sleep,” Cade murmured into Nox’s chest. “We’re safe. Go to sleep.”

Nox didn’t argue, didn’t share the turmoil burning through his brain. They weren’t yet safe—they’d gotten away. Nox’s main concern was elevating their circumstances so Sam would be all right. So Cade was safe. They were going to South Carolina, and maybe everything would be okay.

Even as Nox’s heart steadied, with Cade in his arms, his brain refused to quiet.

Why didn’t they just kill you?

Why?

About the Author

T
ERE
M
ICHAELS
unofficially began her writing career at the age of four when she learned that people got paid to write stories. It seemed the most perfect and logical job in the world and after that, her path was never in question. (The romance writer part was written in the stars—she was born on Valentine’s Day.)

It took thirty-six years of “research” and “life experience” and well… life… before her first book was published but there are no regrets (she doesn’t believe in them). Along the way, she had some interesting jobs in television, animation, arts education, PR and a national magazine—but she never stopped believing she would eventually earn her living writing stories about love.