Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (73 page)

“Why?” is barely a breath from my lips.

“I’m not ready to talk about it. But when I am, you will be the first and only person I tell. Now, back to Ezra- I think I will be nicer to him because he scares the shit out of me. And that is saying something, considering I spend my days with Mitchell and Henry. Ezra reminds me of someone who would eat their own young. Only Cortez is safe from that motherfucker. I’d tell you to watch your back, but you might be the only person he won’t hurt until you come between him and his man. Put it this way, I know Ray. I’ve cleaned up Ray’s messes… and they were disgusting messes that would make you hate me if you knew I was involved. And even Ray doesn’t scare me like his son does. Ezra needs a fucking leash.”

“I… no,” I practically whine.

“I can hear the truth in that one word. You know it’s true. I understand that you really care deeply for Ezra, and under the circumstances, that’s for the best. But please, Pixy, watch out for yourself and the rest of us. You may be able to somewhat leash him. It’s what the elders are hoping. You weren’t just chosen to screw him- they thought you might be able to control him.”

“Am I interrupting,” Stanton’s voice flows from the stairwell, giving us time to cut off our conversation before everyone joins it. “I guess not.”

Stan heard us. I can tell by the terrified expression that flashes across his face. Everyone else smirks at us, like we were fooling around up here, not discussing life and death. Everyone else except Ezra- he looks at me like he heard every word we said, when I know he couldn’t. The look in his eye is begging me to put him out of his misery, and that frightens me more than anything I’ve ever seen.

Bianca got her wish- she shoveled in cake while Caleb opened his gifts.
The majority of the presents were just fun trinkets of remembrance. But a few had hidden meaning. I got him a roll of stamps, two hundred dollars’ worth of phone cards, a box of envelopes, and a ream of stationary with a Marine header. I think he figured out that I wanted to hear from him more often than holidays. Julio gave Caleb pink boxers with guns printed all over them. I’ve never seen Caleb blush, but that did it. I was shocked when Wil gave Caleb a leather-bound journal.

“I’ve read a lot of journal entries,” Wil says, clearing his throat, “a lot of interesting stuff from the Civil War, the World Wars, and Vietnam. I think you need to document what’s going on in the Middle East. History predicts the future, and all. But, I think it would be wise to see how you reacted to events- never make the same mistake twice.”

“Thank you,” Caleb sincerely says, all animosity vanishing in an instant. “Thanks, everyone, for all the gifts and for seeing me off. I have one more stop,” Caleb groans, “three days with the ‘rents and my baby brothers and sisters. But no one will be as big of a baby as my big bro. He’s been crying his eyes out all damned day,” he says with affection, reaching over to pull Stanton into a hug. “And he’s even going upstate with me. He’s gonna drive me mad for the next few days.”

“Imagine how clingy Stanton will be when he gets home,” I slyly say. “Dammit, Gunner, you’re leaving me to deal with his ass all by myself.”

Caleb evilly snickers. “Good luck, you’re gonna need it.” He sighs, wipes a knuckle underneath his eyes and says, “hugs, give ‘em to me. C’mon, it’s time for me to go.”

Julio’s hug is ginormous- he lifts the smaller man off the ground and squeezes until Caleb can’t breathe and starts to struggle. Ezra gives him that awkward half-hug men are so fond of. Wil shakes his hand. Fate sweetly kisses his cheek. Her
pretty blush makes me wonder if Cort even kissed her before he boned her on our sofa. She’s still too meek around men. 

Ezra offers to take Fate home, and after a quick hug goodbye
with me and Bianca, they leave. Julio blends into the shadows because he’s staying with me while Stanton and Bianca are with Caleb and the rest of their family. They wanted me to go, but I’d miss a certification that was necessary to pass my courses.

Stanton gives me a sloppy kiss to the cheek, already bawling his eyes out, days before he says his real goodbyes. I embrace the warmth of my tiny minion, already missing her for the few days she will be gone. The real test is coming up for me. Three days without them- seven month
s of constant companionship with Stanton and Bianca has changed me- these past few weeks with Caleb has made me feel like I had a real family for the first time in my life. Blood ties or not, that short time has bonded us. One of us is going to be gone- it will feel like a little death. I know a sense of mourning will descend on our home, and it frightens me.

Caleb and I awkwardly stand by each other, waiting for Stanton and Bianca to disappear downstairs. They don’t need to see this. Wil is intuitive enough to give u
s the privacy we are seeking. Wil and Julio face the street, leaning on the wall surrounding the roof.

I ga
ze into watery sky blue eyes and see a true brother stare back at me. Yesterday’s sex aside, this is the connection you have with your real siblings. I feel it with Fate. I feel it with Bianca. I feel for Caleb Green, who has no shared blood, what I should feel for Boyd and Whitt. It makes me resolve that I
need
to connect with my brothers to feel whole, because I feel whole looking into Caleb’s eyes.

“Good-”

“Don’t say it,” Caleb warns, cutting off my goodbye. Before I can blink, I’m pressed against his firm chest and tears are streaming from my eyes in a torrent. Eighteen hours a day for the past six weeks, we have not left the other’s side. This hurts so fucking much- it’s like someone tore my right arm off, leaving me utterly useless… or my heart… they ripped my still beating heart from my chest.

One of the shorter men in my life, I’m able to look him in the eyes without cranking my head ba
ck. I palm the crown of his skull and pull, fingers biting into his scalp.

“Goddammit! You come back to us!” I fiercely spit
the words. “You come back to us!”

“
I promise,” he whispers, tears streaming down his face, faster than my eyes can track.

“You can’t promise something like that.” The sound that pours from my throat is part whimper, part whine, and all agony.

“I can,” Caleb says with powerful determination, like if he says it, he will make it come true. “I always keep my word. I will come home to our family, my sinful Faith,” he promises in a teasing lilt. “I
will
come home.” He holds my gaze for a few long minutes before his warm lips press against my forehead.

In the blink of an eye, Caleb i
s gone. I literally blink, and he is nowhere in sight. Only the pounding of his feet on the metal stair treads lets me know that he was real, that he’s really gone.

I stand next to the guys, slipping my hand into Wil’s because I need the comfort- physically ache for it. Within minutes, Stanton is carrying a sleeping bundle to a car that is idling at the curb. After Bianca is tucked in and safely belted, he goes around to the driver’s side. I feel him more than see him. Caleb looks up, gives us a wave, and disappears into the dark interior of the car.

I thought I hurt before. I thought Caleb was really gone when he fled downstairs. Seeing the car pull away from the curb and roll down the street- away from me- with m
y family filling it, fractures the dam that held back the flood of pain I’ve been blocking for months and months. Without their comforting presence, my knees weaken and I slide to the rooftop.

I wail like I’m dying. I lie on the gravel that covers the roof, and keen my
bitter miseries. I cry for the last months of pain and fright my daddy endured, and I picture the final terrifying moment, where the knife slit across his throat- the fatal cut that removed Thomas Simpson, not only from life, but from his children’s futures. The agonizing pain I feel when I remember my momma- the way she looked on that bed, the way her eyes held no light when I removed the pillow. I scream my grief for all I’ve lost and the sins I was forced to commit.

I finally feel it- I finally live it. I hadn’t realized I was numb. I thought I’d grieved and came to terms with the loss and evil I’ve wrought. But I was wrong,
because in the absence of numb is pain. A pain so deep and strong it lives and breathes and its heart beats within my body and takes up residence in my soul.

~Chapter
Sixty-One~

“Pixy,” Wil’s voice surprises me to the point that I squeak. His soft chuckle has me smiling. Sitting at the counter at The Black Death, thoroughly engrossed in going over the books, he caught me unawares.

Bad Ninja, Syn.

“I’ll give you a point for that one,” I tease. “I didn’t even hear the front door.”

“Looks complicated,” Wil says as he snoops at Rex’s financials. Snowflakes cover his knit hat and a few rest on his eyelashes. I try to ignore the warm feeling that blooms inside me at the sight.

“Really coming down out there, eh?” I try for conversational, but I end up croaking the words. Wil just gives me a knowing smile, a curl of his lips at the corners. It’s the same smile he’s given me for the past six months- the rat-bastard. He’s been a good boy while my libido has been in
to overdrive without an outlet. I’ve avoided Grant for that express reason. Either Wil is a saint, because I know he gets aroused, or his issues are far deeper than I first realize.

“Why the frown?” he asks, poking a fingertip to the corner of my mouth.

“No reason,” I flawlessly lie, but as usual, he sees through it. He’s the only one who sees my lies anymore. I think he knows I will lie before I even do. “Not that I’m complaining, but what garnered me this visit? You never come here unless you’re getting some ink. Looking for another masterpiece?” I lick my lips because I want to see that sweater off his body. Wil has been denying me even that. When we spar, he’s fully clothed. I miss the days where Caleb and Wil only fought in shorts.

“This,” Wil slaps a manila envelope on the counter. His eyes are glowing with excitement- he’s actually smiling enough to dent the dimples he usually hides.

My fingertips draw the envelope closer, petrified of their contents. “Did you get yours?” I whisper. “What about Cory?” I ask of the third of our trio. The three of us bonded during class. The red-headed kid comes from the Gates but acts like he was raised in Middle America. His heart is huge and his sense of humor is even larger. I can’t imagine failing or passing without Wil and Cory by my side.

“Holy hell, we took six months of classes and those sadists made us wait three weeks for the results of our
final exams- bastards,” Wil drawls.

I glare him down until he cracks. “Cory passed,” he says with a smile. “Ninety-two percent overall- I was impressed.”

“And you? Did you get yours?” I mumble. My eyes are glued to my envelope- Cynthia Brooks glows from the address label. It should lessen the feeling of accomplishment, seeing my alias, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel like I’m doing this for my grandmother, my aunt, my daddy. That envelope may not say Faith Simpson, but it’s no less important because of it. I want this. I want this, bad.

“I got mine this morning. It’s what made me visit Cory, because
I know your postman doesn’t show until afternoon. We had lunch, and then I sat with Frankie waiting for the mail. I had to show the goon my envelope before he’d show me yours. He taunted me for a few minutes. Finally, I just tore it from his death-grip and ran like hell. I sprinted all the way here because I’m pretty sure he sent Julio after me… and I’m not fighting that beast. Not even for your test result.”

“Your good mood says you passed,” I say with a chuckle. “You fucker- stop stalling, what did you get?”

“What’d you get?” Wil challenges me. His hand snakes out and tries to snatch my envelope. I grab it and hug it to my chest. Wil’s leer says he will go for it again, titties be damned.

“You do realize I’m a competitive bitch
, right? I would rather fail miserably than get a point less than you.”

“Oh, of that I have little
doubt,” Wil purrs, flipping on his flirt switch. He always freaks me out when he flirts- it’s scarier than the boogieman.

“Do you have your results with you?”

“No,” he shakes his head no while nibbling his bottom lip.

“Then I need to hear yours first. You could lie and make your score better than mine.”

“You don’t trust me?” Wil pouts.

“Not on your life, kneecapper,” I purr in my own sultry voice. His whimper makes me flash a brilliant smile.

“Christ, just answer her already. The foreplay is killing me,” Rex shouts from behind me. “What the fuck was your score?”

“Ninety-four,”
Wil smugly announces, wearing a shit-eating grin.

“He’s probably lying. The bastard lies like I breathe,” Rex taunts.

“This bastard lies, but he’s a smart bastard,” Wil growls back at Rex.

I decide I better rip into my envelope as a way to stop the impending fight. I’d forgotten the reason Wil avoided my place of business. Rex and Wil are like oil and water- I think it’s more that Rex tells me what to do and I have to listen- Wil does not like anyone ordering me around,
except for Stanton. I’d love to think it’s because Wil knows how much independence means to me, but I fear that it’s because he think he owns me.