Galilee Rising (24 page)

Part of me wants to go. To get away from the anger and disapproval I sense from his every pore. But no. This was my lead, my investigation. I refuse to be dismissed like some flunkie. And I sure as hell am not leaving him alone here across from a warehouse full of goons no matter what he says. I fold my arms across my chest. "Do you think I'm weak?"

"What?"

"Do you view me as some weak damsel in distress who faints at the first sign of danger?"

"What? Of course not."

"Then stop fucking treating me like one," I say through gritted teeth. "I have been taking care of myself practically since the cradle, and I will till the grave. And I know you…care about me. You don't want anything happen to me, and I do appreciate that more than you can imagine. But I do not need or want a knight in shining armor shielding me from the big bad world. I'm a smart woman. I know my limitations, and I sure as hell know when to cut and run when I'm in over my head. So I'm telling you, this stops
now
. I almost lost my life because someone close to me was trying to protect me and didn't give me the chance to do it myself. I know the risks. My eyes are wide open to the dangers, but I'm in this. I am in this fight. All the way." I move toward him. "So you can avoid me, even order me to leave until you're blue in the face, but catching your psycho brother takes precedence over your chivalry streak or anything going on between us. The job comes first. I think we can both agree on that." I plop down in my original position on the floor near the laptop. "I'm staying until Tempest gets here. You don't have to talk to me, but I am not leaving. Get over it."

He stares down at me, I can't see his eyes behind the mask but I know they're not filled with kindness or approval judging from the balled up fists. I don't think anyone's challenged him like this in a long time. He could pick me up and fly me out of here, but we both know he won't dare lay a hand on me. All he can do is suck it up and let me be. After a sigh, he slowly walks over to me and sits down against the wall near me, leaving a few feet between us. I gaze at the monitor at the quiet warehouse for a full minute. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my partner shift uncomfortably beside me.

"Ants in your pants already?" I ask. "I hate surveillance work too. Hours of nothing with no guarantee anything will come of it. I've gone through entire Sudoku and crossword puzzle books on one shift. I brought microphones. If you want, you can place them on the warehouse for something to do."

"No. I don't want to…I'll wait for Tempest. Just in case."

"Not confident with your stealth skills?"

"No, just better safe than sorry." We return to silence. Even though he's probably pissed at me, the quiet isn't uncomfortable. I'm quite happy to see that hasn't changed between us. "So, is this footage transmitted back to Doris?"

"Yeah."

"What about the other location? By the docks? Did you check that one out as well?" he asks.

"Not yet. There were also a couple others that had potential too, but this was a goldmine." I smile. "Your brother sure does love
To Kill a Mockingbird
, that's for sure."

"Our um, governess gave it to him for Christmas when we were six. He devoured it. We lost count of how many times we read it. The movie as well. I can quote the entire thing."

"Let me guess. He's the one who christened you 'Jem'?"

"Yeah. I'm older by ten minutes, so he thought it fitting."

"I can see it."

"What?"

"You. Jem Finch. You're a lot alike. Smart, brave, protective, does the right thing no matter the personal cost." I notice him staring at me, and I turn to face him. "What? I had high school English too. I've read it."

"That's not…I…" He glances away, the visible flesh on his face turning red. "Never mind."

"You really can't take a compliment, can you?"

"Not one that's so undeserved, no." His thin mouth sets straight. "I am nothing like Jem Finch. He…protected his sibling.
He
was the strong one. When we were growing up it was Jordan who fought for me, for us both.

"When we were nine," Nightingale continues, "Dr. Ramone, Father's lead researcher, was testing our healing capabilities. Normally Jordan volunteered to go first, but he was angry at me for not wanting to go swimming with him earlier. Anyway, Dr. Ramone…strapped me down on the examination table and began his incisions. Shallow at first, down my arm, and then…into the muscle. I managed not to scream until he hit bone."

"Jesus Christ."

"When Jordan heard my cries for him, my brother rushed in, barreling at the doctor. Broke his arm and knocked the man out. We escaped to our secret spot, the tree house we built near the lake. They found us later that night. Father was livid, even threatened to 'end the experiment.' He grabbed my still tender arm, and that's when Jordan attacked him with the scalpel he'd stolen. Father received stitches, and Jordan received a week locked in the lab being forced sedatives and reprogramming techniques. Basically, they tortured him for seven days and nights. When he returned to me, he was different. Angrier. And still after all he endured, he volunteered to be first every time after that.
He
was the brave one. And it destroyed his soul."

I don't say anything for a few seconds because I can't think of a damn thing to say. I've never been much of a hugger, but an overwhelming desire to embrace him must be fought. I'm afraid if I touch him he'll freak and run away. Instead, I don't even look at him. I stare straight ahead. "You know…for such a smart guy, you can be dumber than a sack of hammers. It's a damn good thing you're cute."

"Excuse me?"

"I was twelve when my Pop died, and I was
convinced
for years I had some part in it. If I hadn't insisted on us leaving my mother, if I hadn't needed new shoes, blah blah blah then he wouldn't have been driving that cab and wouldn't have gotten shot. It made me angry, furious at the world but especially at myself, and I wasn't born little miss Zen to begin with," I chuckle. "But with time, and a lot of help from Justin, I came to realize I'd spent years being a fucking idiot. Blaming myself was just a way for me to control a situation that I had no control over. All I could control was my reaction. I worked hard to stop hating myself, at least for that. Of course then I did other things to hate myself for but…" I chuckle again. I glance over at him but can't tell much with the mask. I look away. "My point is you didn't create this monster. In fact I think you're the only thing keeping him from going nuclear. Literally. You and I both know your brother was born a sociopath. It was just a freak thing. A genetic mutation. He doesn't kill people because you didn't stand up to Dr. Mengele when you were a child, he does it because he has a mental disorder. A crossed wire. You couldn't have done a whole hell of a lot from stopping him down his path anymore than I could have stopped the man who shot my Pop at twelve years old. You have to let go of this misplaced guilt because you're drowning in it. And until you do, you will never have control of your own life. You'll never be able to stop him right here, right now. You'll just be alone with your pain. And then he wins."

I shake my head. "I don't know about you, but I'm not okay with that.
He
doesn't get to win. He doesn't get to travel the world, doing whatever he damn well pleases while you're back here flogging yourself for his sins. Unless that's what you want. Hell, maybe you're happy in misery. Some are. My mother was. If that's the case, then you must be like a pig in shit right now. Alone, pushing people who care about you away, suffocating in guilt and leaving no room in your life for anything or anyone else. Good times." I turn to him, catching those gorgeous blue eyes. "So, are you? Happy?"

We stare at one another for a second, my impassive eyes challenging his hooded ones. I know I'm victorious when he says, "I know what you're doing."

"Is it working?" I ask with a smirk.

"Yes."

"Good." And I lean across, my lips finding his before the spell breaks. His stiffen at first as I'm sure warning bells chime in his mind, but I don't pull away. I'll win this war no matter how many dirty tricks I have to pull. But this battle lasts all of three seconds before he accepts defeat, moving his lips against mine tentatively at first then with the ferocity of a man lost in a desert who tastes water for the first time in days. I thought he'd be shy, tentative, but as usual with him I'm in for a delicious surprise. His tongue pushes past my barrier, finding mine to dance their dance. The only time he withdraws is to nibble on my lower lip. His fingers dig into my back, drawing me in even closer.

Not close enough.

I crawl onto his lap, straddling him, holding him, igniting parts of us both that we'd forgotten about in our self-imposed miseries. I don't know how long we make out like teenagers in this rat infested hovel, but I love every millisecond, every sensation of it. I just wish we didn't have all these clothes on. I want to run my fingers through his soft, wild hair. Burrow my fingers into the flesh of his back as he does the same to me. Why the hell have we waited so long? This is fucking amazing. I'm about to supernova. No more wasting time. I've never felt this much…intensity. Longing. Passion. Even with Harry. Or that night with Justin by The Falls. Didn't hold a goddamn candle to this.

Eventually we have to break apart to breathe, both of us panting as if we'd rounded home base. This close I can actually see those blue eyes as he gazes up at me with that same amazed, frightened, and loving expression he had on the hospital rooftop. This time it doesn't scare me. I won't let it. I run my finger across his swollen lower lip. Mine pulses in time to another area south of the border. Our smiles move in unison before he leans forward to kiss me again.

"Ahem."

Oh, shit. I practically leap a foot in the air off him. When I land beside him, I find Tempest smirking in the doorway smirking. Thank God it's only him but still. I'm mortified. "Um…"

"Hey, don't stop on my account," Tempest says.

"We were just--" Nightingale says.

"Killing time on a stakeout? Yeah, Lex and I sometimes kill time the same way."

"You do?" Nightingale asks, shocked by this unprofessional revelation.

Tempest scoffs at the hypocrisy. His gaze moves from us to the camera and laptop on the ground. "So, I got your messages. Sorry it took so long to get here. Looks like you've got things well in hand here though. If you want I can leave or--"

"No," Nightingale says forcefully as he jumps up. "We-We still have a lot to do. We need to place the bugs, there's another warehouse to surveil, there are other leads to follow up." He glances at me. "Alone."

"What?" I ask.

"We can manage from here. Go home.
Now
. Please. It'll be fine now."

Fuck a duck. His barriers shut like a steel trap again. I recognize the posture and expression. I did the same thing to Harry and just about every other person who tried to get close to me. Most gave up, save Justin. I'm still amazed he ever put up with me. I'm fuming at my dismissal, and I really want to dig my heels in, but know it won't do any good. Not with Tempest here. The interloper knows this too as he shoots me a sympathetic smile. Shit. I swallow my emotions and plaster on a poker face.

"Um, fine. I'll let the big, strong men handle it from here. I need to go to my office anyway. Nightingale can get you up to speed."

"I'll swing by later tonight if I have any questions or anything else develops," Tempest says, really meaning he'll come by to check on me and make excuses for his friend.

"Whatever. Have fun with the rats. Call if you want me."

As I move, Nightingale takes a tiny step away in case I accidently brush against him. This should sting, but instead I feel a sense of triumph. He's afraid to touch me. Afraid of what he might do. As I walk out of the room, the corners of my mouth move up into a smirk.

Most people never understood me and Justin. Why two people from such different backgrounds and temperaments could be such good friends. What they never understood was we were basically the same person. Kindred spirits. Soul mates. And like him, I am as stubborn as a mule when something really matters to me. He didn't give up on me until the day he died. Hell, it's why he died. So as long as there's a glimmer of hope, even a half chance in hell, I'm not quitting on Jem. He needs me, especially now. No matter how many times that man pushes me away, I'll keep going back. Because he's worth it. Even in death my best friend is looking out for me. Giving me strength.

And if Jem's half as much trouble as I was, I am gonna need it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cuckoo's Nest

Mansion, sweet mansion. Cleaning things up at the office took longer than I anticipated, so all the happy feelings from earlier were sucked from me by international phone calls and paperwork. Tracking terrorists might be more dangerous but it sure beats mergers and acquisitions. I'm usually praying for someone to shoot at me after the second dull as hell hour.

I'm fucking starving. Right on cue, as I pull off my jacket, Dobbs hobbles out from the kitchen sans food though. "I was getting worried," Dobbs says as he takes my coat.

"Sorry, impromptu conference call. Is dinner ready?"

His eyes narrow from confusion. "I thought you and Dr. Ambrose were dining out tonight."

"What? No. Who told you that?"

"Dr. Ambrose. He's been waiting in the living room for almost an hour."

"What? He's here? Why didn't you call me?"

"He told me he had."

What the hell? "Um, thank you, Dobbs. That'll be all."

As I walk toward the living room, I check both my phones. No calls. What--

Oh, fuck
.

The moment I see the man on the couch, I know I'm as good as dead. It's Jem from tips to toes. Same exact haircut, glasses, face, posture, even crumpled clothes and aftershave. But it's not Jem. My eyes say yes, but something deep inside knows there is no way in hell that's him. Which can only mean I have a mass murderer in my living room watching the news as if it was the most natural thing in the world? I manage to keep my face neutral as his eyes move to me a second after I step in. Even the nervous smile he shoots me is pure Jem. It sends a chill down my spine.