The pro-baller’s eyes slitted dangerously. Good. He understood. He’d have to pretend with the fiancée, too.
“Now that you’re spinning out of control, you’ll throw a party. You will invite Mr. Star’s kids, and you will make nice. If you can, become the son’s new supplier. And if the daughter’s interested, sleep with her. Just be careful. I’d hate for you to disappear, too.”
Like John, he nodded.
At least he hadn’t protested the affair.
Michael focused on Solo. He was still slumped in his chair, his gaze still narrowed. “You will become Blue’s new, most trusted bodyguard. The man who gets things done. The one Blue relies on for the darkest of deeds.”
A flash of panic before Solo’s features smoothed out, revealing nothing else. “Very well.”
He hated going out in public, and Blue led a very public life. His photo would be taken, would be plastered across every newspaper, and he would have to relive every moment and tolerate every insult. But he would do it. He always did what Michael told him.
“Good,” Michael said. “You each have four days to prepare. On the fifth, I expect you to be entrenched in your roles. Dismissed.”
In unison the boys popped to their feet. As they stomped to the door, Blue grumbled. John rubbed the back of his neck. Solo was quiet, his arms at his sides, his footfalls purposely soft.
The sensors above the door caught their movement and caused the soundproof metal to unlatch and slide open. Blue crossed the threshold first, John right on his heels, and Solo right on his.
Whoosh.
A sudden, violent gust of heat slammed through the entire office, lifting Michael out of his chair and propelling him into the far wall. Fire licked at his skin, and lances of pain battered at him as he slid to the floor. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. Something heavy pressed against his chest, and he blinked rapidly in an effort to focus. A desk was now on top of him, he realized. What the . . . How . . . ?
The answer clicked into place. Someone had bombed his home office.
He laughed at the unlikeliness of such a situation, and blood bubbled from his mouth. As he coughed and fought to suck air past the liquid obstruction, his pain intensified and his eyesight dimmed.
Where were his boys? he wondered dazedly. Were they . . . ? Darkness closed in on him . . . hurt . . . hurting . . . was hurting so badly now . . . The boys had been closer to the blast, and he wasn’t sure they could have survived . . . but they were so strong, so vital . . . surely they had . . .
The darkness finally reached him and he knew nothing more. . . .
• • •
For Solo, consciousness arrived in slow degrees. There was smoke in his nose and down his throat and his body throbbed as if every bone had been broken. He wasn’t sure where he was or what had happened to him.
“—with this one?” a voice he didn’t recognize was saying.
Despite the fog hazing his vision, he was able to distinguish two males leaning over him. One was tall, thin, and around thirty years old, with dark hair and dark eyes. The other was a living version of the man Solo had seen in the picture projected on Michael’s wall. Gregory Star.
Star was a short human with silver hair, brown eyes, and skin tanned and lined by the sun. “Look at him,” he said, his lip curling in disgust as his gaze roved over Solo’s body. “Sell him to the same circus we sold the AIR agent to. He’ll fetch a decent price.”
“And this one?”
Both men vanished from Solo’s line of sight, yet still he heard Star sigh. “Finish ashing him. As fried as he is, there’s no way he’ll survive transport anywhere else, and that way, there will be nothing left of him for anyone to find. A shame, though. I kind of liked him.”
“And this last one?”
A pause. A purr of relish. “Do nothing. I’m keeping him.”
Two
Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.
—PSALM 55:6
ONCE AGAIN, CONSCIOUSNESS ARRIVED in slow degrees for Solo. Darkness gradually faded from his mind, little thoughts forming. I need to wake up. Something’s happened. Something’s wrong.
He was enveloped by heat, sweating, his skin stinging. With every inhalation, the inside of his nose burned. With every exhalation, his chest