In the Air Tonight (30 page)

He grabbed both their bags and walked behind Paige into the back room of the bar. She stopped short when she spotted Reid coming out of the storeroom with a case of beer, but Mace told her, “He’s one of our teammates,” and she relaxed.

Reid walked over to Mace and the men shared a handshake, and then a fast hug with a back thump.

“Good to see you, man,” Mace told him. “This is Paige Grayson. Paige, this is Reid.”

Reid gave a somber nod in her direction. “I’m sorry about Gray.”

“Me too,” she said quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.” Then she turned to Mace and tugged at her bag. “I’d like to crash for a little while, if that’s okay.”

“Good idea.”

“Vivi’s upstairs too,” Reid told her.

“Great.” Paige took her bag from Mace, despite his protests that he’d carry it, and headed up the stairs muttering, something about being strong enough to carry her own bags.

Reid snorted and Mace tried to get in a punch, but Reid was out the door too quickly, into the main bar area. Mace followed, sat in the corner of the bar with his back to the wall while Reid ducked under the counter and shelved the bottles. Caleb and Keagen were busy tending bar—Caleb nodded in Mace’s direction but couldn’t do much more.

But Reid came out, not giving a shit how busy the bar was. No, the man clearly had something on his mind, and when he got that way, there was no deterring him.

Reid took a slug of his beer before asking bluntly, “I know there’s a lot of shit going on, but why did you really call me here?”

Mace leaned forward so he could be heard over the music. “I needed the whole team here. We have to make some decisions together. Dylan and Cam are arriving this week, or next—they have an offer for us.” He described the job and Reid remained silent, his expression unchanged.

“Mercs for hire,” Reid said, no judgment in his tone but no acceptance either. “You know, sometimes
I think the only thing that holds all of us in line is the military.”

“I think that was true once, but it’s bullshit now.”

Reid gave him a sideways glance and didn’t comment further on that. Told him instead, “Kell’s not coming.”

“Any clue where he is?”

“Looking for those last two DMH guys,” Reid said. “He won’t rest until he finds them, dead or alive.”

Mace felt Caleb tense up beside him. Both men knew Kell felt responsible for the entire mission, thought he’d brought DMH’s focus onto the Delta team. And yes, DMH had identified him after he’d killed a major DMH player, then traced him back to Mace and Cael, Gray and Reid. “He was doing his job. Could’ve been any one of us,” Mace pointed out.

“But it wasn’t. It was him. He’s moody as shit to begin with, but this brought him to the edge.” Reid put the nearly full bottle down. He’d never been a big drinker, always said he’d rather stay sharp than buzzed.

“What about you?” Mace asked.

“Worried about me, brother?”

“Damned straight.”

Reid pushed the bottle away from him. “Me too.”

“You spent three weeks wandering around the Amazon, mercing on your own,” Mace said mildly. “Would’ve made sense to have backup.”

“And now you’re spying on me.” Reid might’ve grumbled, but he was more abashed at being caught than anything.

“Dylan was. Were you looking for DMH?”

“Right now there’s no one else in my line of vision. I’ve got nothing to remember from those weeks, except that I damned near died and couldn’t do anything to help anyone. It shouldn’t have happened. We’re a good team. The best. It shouldn’t have happened.”

All Mace could do was nod, because Reid spoke the truth. But if Reid couldn’t get past it, if none of them could, they were all in trouble.

“What’s going on between you and Gray’s sister?” Reid asked, probably to get the focus off himself.

“I’m helping her.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Because Gray asked me to.”

“From the way you look at her, it’s much more than that.”

Damn Reid, too observant for his own good. “This wasn’t something I expected to happen.”

“Sometimes it’s not about getting what you thought you wanted,” Reid said. “Most of the time, it’s about finding what gets you through. And whatever that is, that’s the most important. That’s the thing you hang onto for dear life.”

Sometimes Reid had some scarily good goddamned unsolicited advice.

Then he retreated back into Reid-dom. “Of course, sometimes getting what you want is more like a fucking punishment that will dog you the rest of your miserable life.”

Mace laughed, a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in a long time. And he knew he’d made the right decision in summoning the team. “Call Kell again. For Caleb.”

——

C
all Kell
.

Yeah, Reid had a hell of a lot to say to his friend, for sure, none of which Kell would want to hear.

It was the first time the men had been separated without Reid knowing exactly—or marginally—where Kell was. It pissed him off, worried him … and he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.

They always shared their locales, no matter what. The thing was, Kell wasn’t hurt or captured. Reid would’ve known.

So that made it a million times worse. Kell had shut a lot of people out of his life for various reasons along the way, but never Reid.

First fucking time for everything.

“You’ll be all right.” Kell’s last words to him, standing over the hospital bed, with Reid still barely conscious. And Kell had left before Reid could do anything; he’d still been intubated, unable to speak, and fuck, he might not know exactly where Kell was, but he knew what his friend was trying to do.

The man harbored more guilt about the attack than any of them. Telling Kell there was no reason for it was an exercise in futility.

Reid was doing better now because there was something to do, people to help. Imminent danger always made him put his pity party away pronto, and this time was no exception. For Caleb, for his entire team, Reid would do pretty much anything. And as he watched Caleb pouring shots for last call, he thought about the last time he’d seen his friend and teammate. And the first time.

The first time was years earlier, when he and Kell and Caleb had competed for spots on the Delta team. Dylan Scott had just left and Cam was the team’s leader. Mace and Gray were members.

The men knew one another peripherally, as they’d all been handpicked for Delta training. They were all leaders. They were all overachievers, men whom their superiors belived were destined to rise to the elite ranks. They were the last men standing, literally. And then they’d collapsed and spent the night in the infirmary, but hell, they’d made it.

Then the last time … Caleb had looked at him with utter confusion. But finally, before they’d all been discharged, he had called him by name.

Now Reid dialed Kell’s phone for the umpteenth time, all the while knowing he would get shunted straight to voice mail.

His friend would get the message, though—he always did. Reid just had to hope Kell wasn’t so far gone he couldn’t be pulled back. Especially because it was usually Kell who was the one doing the pulling for Reid, and Reid didn’t like this reversal shit at all.

T
he sharp knock at the door pulled Mace away from the office, where he’d been for the better part of the morning and half the afternoon. Reid and Caleb were down the road, attempting to free the liquor delivery truck from where it had gotten stuck in the snow. Paige and Vivi were upstairs.

And he’d been stewing about everything. Had a shitty night’s sleep, tossed and turned for a bit, then left Paige in bed so he didn’t disturb her further. Played cards with Reid for a while, with neither man saying anything more than necessary. That, at least, felt comfortable and right.

After Reid kicked his ass at War, Caleb came inside from where he’d been securing a perimeter around the bar and they played more cards and bullshitted and avoided any subjects of importance.

Now Mace checked through the peephole—saw a guy, short, stocky. Shaved head, sunglasses.

Military bearing.

He opened the door. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”

The man gave a small smirk that Mace wanted to remove from his face. “And here I thought all small-towners were friendly.”

“You thought wrong.” Mace frowned, crossed his arms and waited. After a long moment, with the guy appraising the hell out of him, he said, “I’m here for Paige Grayson.”

Mace had him in a death grip, cheek against the door, before he said another word. Leaned in close, breathed, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Hey, man, I’m not going to do anything.” The guy hadn’t been expecting Mace’s reaction. “I tried to call her once to give me an interview. I’m writing a book on her brother.”

Mace went cold. “What’s your name?”

“Arthur Somberg,” he choked out.

There had been no picture of the author on his website. Mace took the glasses off Somberg’s face so he could look directly into the man’s eyes.

“Hey, watch it, those are expensive.”

“Like I give a shit. When you contacted Paige, what did she tell you?”

“She said no—she hung up on me.”

“So you’re following her now? Stalking her to get her to do what you want? Because that’s a crime, you know.” He eased up a bit on his grip so the asshole could answer him.

“I haven’t been stalking her. She invited me here.”

Mace pressed hard against the man’s throat. “Yeah, I’m not buying that bullshit.”

“I went to do a final interview with her brother. He gave me a note from her—it had this address. He said she asked me to come here.”

Fuck
. He shoved Somberg away. “You’re not to speak to her. Touch her. Come within thirty feet of her or—”

It was Somberg’s turn to cross his arms. “You military?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I thought brothers helped one another out.”

“I’m not in a helping mood where Paige is concerned, got it?”

“I’m just trying to do my job in the most responsible manner possible.” Somberg sounded like he’d rehearsed that one a thousand times and still didn’t believe a goddamned word of it.

“How the hell can you do this, write about these fucking monsters?”

Somberg shrugged. “It’s fascinating.”

“I doubt their victims—the victims’ families—would describe it that way.”

“The public has a right to know. Half the time, we create these so-called monsters,” Somberg said easily. “Spending time with them, especially Jeffrey, has really opened my eyes.”

“You’re a son of a bitch. Don’t come near Paige again. Don’t call, don’t write. Don’t talk about her in your book.”

“I’ve already written about her. After all, she was there. Said she knew, right? She wishes she’d done something.”

Mace knew he needed to let the guy simply leave or else this would end up being some kind of footnote in the goddamned book—if Somberg wasn’t planning that already.

“I’ll leave her alone. But she can’t bitch that her side of the story’s being misrepresented. I gave her a chance.”

No, he hadn’t given her a chance at all—Paige deserved one, for sure, but not this way. As Mace took a step toward Somberg to force him down the path, the man told him, “The police found the bodies of those girls, you know, the ones Jeffrey killed before the shootings.”

T
he police found the bodies of those girls, you know, the ones Jeffrey killed before the shootings
.

Paige stopped short at the bottom of the stairs when she heard the words, saw they’d come from a man Mace had grabbed by the throat.

“Wait—I want to hear what he has to say,” she called out, caught Mace’s death glare and ignored it.

The bald man spoke, his voice strangled. “They were buried in the creek. On the thirteenth hole, just like Jeffrey said. They were mummified.”

She drew a shaky breath, because Jeffrey had told this man the truth about the twins as well, and probably before Jeffrey had told her. “Who the hell are you?”

“This is Arthur Somberg.”

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Paige, get upstairs—do not engage in this conversation,” Mace commanded, the tone unmistakable.

But she wasn’t in any mood to take orders. “How do you know the bodies were found?” she asked Arthur.

“Police scanner. Your brother mentioned you’d been talking to the police about the twins.”

“He told me about them.”

“Paige, stop. Now,” Mace said, and she bit her bottom lip.

Caleb had come up on one side of Somberg, Reid on the other, and Mace let go of the man. Somberg took a step back and stood toe-to-toe with Mace. “Put your hands on me again and you’ll be sorry,” Somberg said, and Mace laughed, a harsh sound, his stance cold and unyielding.

“You come back in here, you come anywhere near Paige, you give this address to anyone, and you’ll be the sorriest man alive,” Mace told him.

Somberg didn’t say another word, simply began to back up and then walked to his car, fast, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll follow him to make sure he gets the hell out of here,” Reid offered, and Mace handed him his keys.

“I can’t believe—” Paige started, but Mace interrupted her.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.

“What?”

“This is a dangerous situation you’re in.” Mace had focused all his attention back to Paige. “Which means you need to listen to me when I tell you to go upstairs and not engage. You shouldn’t be making a move without checking with me,” he finished, and yes, he’d pushed it much too far. Every fiber of her
being was bucking his protective bullshit, no matter how necessary.

Without saying another word, because she knew it might be something she would regret, she turned and walked away.

A
s she sat, curled on the couch with her laptop, Vivi heard the end of the fight between Mace and Paige, and Paige’s subsequent slamming of her door.

Vivi wanted to check on her, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She wasn’t used to having a girlfriend, didn’t get the boundaries. All she knew was that Paige felt completely helpless, out of control in her own life—and oh, how Vivi could relate.