Page 63 of Homecoming

“What do you want?” Tenny hissed.

Reese’s first instinct was to shrink back – an old instinct, from his days with Badger, and with his first handler.Don’t question authority. Shut up and do your job. You don’t count.

But he wasn’t a tool anymore, to point and shoot. Not even an attack dog. He was a person, and this other boy – still clawing his way to personhood, too – was one that he had named. He’dgiventhat to him. And he wouldn’t accept what now felt like hatred from him.

Especially because he didn’t think that it was actually hatred at all.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong with you,” Reese said, as level and calm as he could. “Because I want to help you.”

Tenny stared at him, mouth slack with shock a moment. Then he sneered – one of those ugly, false, biting sneers he’d doled out at the very beginning. “You’rewhat’s wrong, and I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

Reese’s whole body went numb with a sudden, sweeping shock. His grip slackened, and Tenny ripped out of it, storming from the room.

Reese stood staring at his empty hand. Slowly, sensation returned, a painful prickling, like he’d been burned.

Why?He found, as in so many cases, he didn’t have the answers he wanted.

Twenty

Leah didn’t consider herself a great cook by any stretch – there had always been more interesting things to occupy her time, and she lacked her mom’s deft hand in the kitchen – but she could throw something decent together, and that was just what she did for Ava’s impromptu potluck. She considered picking up something premade, but settled instead, on her early morning grocery run before work, on the ingredients for a quick, cold corn salad. She stowed all of it in the kitchenette at work, mixed it at lunch, put it in the fridge, and then collected it on her way out.

“Have fun!” Rochelle called to her as she headed for the elevators.

“Thanks!”

As she waited for the cab to arrive, she found that she was tapping her toes inside her shoes – that she wasnervous. Not the usual emotion that accompanied dinners with Ava. She was glad that she’d said something on the phone last night about Carter; he was a sad puppy these days, and he needed a boost from the people who cared about him.

But she couldn’t help thinking about her father’s teasing last night, calling Carter her boyfriend.

And she couldn’t stop remembering Carter’s wide, white, frankly breathtaking smile, his blue eyes denim-colored in the soft lamplight of the coffeeshop.

She shivered, unbidden, and scolded herself internally.

The elevator arrived with a polite ding, and the doors slid open – to reveal her new boss. And a hulking, thick-necked man standing just behind him who screamedHired Securitywith his stony expression and ironed shirt collar.

Mr. Shaman – Ian, according to Ava, and Maggie, and Carter – wore a bespoke blue suit with a champagne silk shirt beneath, without a tie and open at the throat, like the day of her interview. His hair gleamed beneath the lights – and no one ever looked good under elevator lighting. He was scrolling through something on his phone, and glanced up. “Miss Cook.” His tone was polite, if not warm, his smile charming, if not friendly. “Going down?”

She almost said no. That was her first, kneejerk reaction – one that surprised her. She wasn’t afraid of him. He was just…a lot.

But she’d never fancied herself a coward, so she said, “Yes, sir,” and stepped inside.

When the doors closed, he pocketed his phone, inclined his head toward her, and said, “How is your first week going so far?”

“Really well.” When she returned his gaze, because that felt like the polite thing to do, she had the sense he could see right through her skull and into her brain. “My coworkers are great, and the work is all stuff that I’m used to and comfortable with. The office isso nice.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in an almost-smile. “Lovely to hear.” His gaze shifted to the covered bowl in her arms. “Lunch leftovers?” he asked, a single brow lifting to a sardonic angle.

“Oh, no. I’m on my way to a potluck.”

“Ah. Potluck.” He said the word as if he was tasting it, and the tilt of his mouth afterward suggested he’d found it unappetizing. She figured men who wore shoes as expensive as his, with personal bodyguards, didn’t do casserole get-togethers.

The elevator arrived, and he motioned her to go first with one elegant sweep of his arm. “Give my regards to Mrs. Lécuyer, then.”

“Thanks…” She hadn’t told him she was going to Ava’s.

She pushedthatdisconcerting thought aside, though, as she walked out to her car and headed out. She debated going by her place to change into something more casual, but she was already running a bit late. She headed straight to Mercy and Ava’s place, then, and found the driveway already full of bikes and an unfamiliar car.

She parked on the street, killed the engine…and sat a moment, hands still on the wheel. Nervousness flared to life again, a tickling in the pit of her belly. It wasn’t just about Carter this time.

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