you divide the total number of times into my age.”
“Hadley.” He spoke my name as if it weighed fifty pounds and he was afraid of dropping it on his foot.
“Fine.” I looped my arms behind his head. “You may carry me home.” I hopped and locked my legs around his waist. “Well?” I snapped my fingers. “You are the slowest manservant I’ve ever ridden.”
Midas cupped my cheeks in his palms, and yes, I mean those cheeks. The fact he did it beneath the dress had highly inappropriate chills dappling my arms. He stared down at me for a long moment then shook his head. “You’re still not funny.”
“And yet your abs ripple.”
His lips parted and then mashed shut and then flattened into an impenetrable line.
“You were going to say it’s strain from holding me.” I hammered his shoulders with my fists. “Put me down.”
He only held on tighter, which caused me to flush, given where he was holding, and started walking.
It was a long, hot march back to the Faraday.
Twelve
Back at the apartment, we spread out to refresh, regroup, and reassure family and friends we survived. I was the only one with idle hands, given that most everyone I cared about had been involved. A few even had front row seats for the big boom.
In another life, that might have depressed me.
In this one, I was happy with quality over quantity.
“Would you do the honors?” I passed Bishop Midas’s phone. “I need to change.”
Bishop nodded and set to work syncing it with the new ginormous television we had mounted last week.
Linus had, of course, not bought one during his tenure as potentate. He was all books, all the time. Me? Not so much. The recent addition made him pale as though pained to see technology creeping into what had once been his private haven of art and literature.
Good thing he hadn’t noticed I turned his bookcases under the stairs into VHS and DVD storage.
I mean, I didn’t want to see a grown man cry.
Ducking into the bedroom, I changed into bleach-splattered jeans, a tee with faded bloodstains, and new sneakers. I scooped up my hair to get it out of the way then washed my face and brushed my teeth, all to avoid what Midas had to show us for a few seconds longer.
Eventually, short of showering, I had run out of personal hygiene excuses and rejoined the others.
Everyone turned to stare when I entered the living room. I wasn’t sure how long I had kept them waiting while I delayed the inevitable, but it was clear they had started to worry.
Bishop handed over Midas’s phone so that I could control the flow of the video. “Just hit play.”
“Here we go.” I went to stand with Midas. “Walk us through what we’re seeing.”
“This is footage of the apartment Ares shares with her human mate,” he began, breaking it down so that Linus and Grier could keep up with the names in play. “Ares told us she and Liz were babysitting their nephew while his mother had gallbladder surgery, but I saw no signs an infant had been in the apartment. There was also no sign of Liz.”
The footage, and his narration, was circumstantial evidence at best. But he hadn’t heard my side yet.
After he finished, he gestured to me. “Your turn.”
“I was keeping an eye on Ares at the memorial.” I started pacing. “She was drinking a lot—coffee, not wine—but she had this look. Hyperaware, even though she could barely keep her eyes open. Like she expected something to happen.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know what she saw, but she freaked. She dove for me, like she was going to tackle me, but I couldn’t risk waiting to find out if she was protecting me or attacking me. I used her momentum against her and threw her into the wall.”
“Then she knew the gig was up.” Bishop scowled at the screen. “She got her legs working and bolted.”
“The way she took off, I don’t think she was running from us. She looked like she was chasing someone.”
“It all happened so fast.” Grier shook her head. “From my perspective, I couldn’t tell either way.”
“I didn’t notice Ares until she attacked,” Linus said. “I was too late to see more than her swift exit.”
“Get Reece on it,” I told Bishop. “Maybe his shiny new cameras captured who—or what—we missed.”
Goddess knows the invoice I signed off on, for essentially disposable cameras given they wouldn’t survive the blast, had