Chapter Eleven
I stood sifting through a stack of papers from the boxes Wentz had me bring up from the basement as he, Donna, and Devin chatted a few feet away, like they were all best friends. I couldn’t hear most of the conversation, but every once in awhile, I’d catch bits and pieces.
“How are you single?” I heard Donna ask.
Wentz, oblivious as always, replied in an utterly serious tone, “It’s my nose. Totally out of proportion with the rest of my face. Makes me look like a duck.”
Donna looked extremely frustrated as Wentz waved goodbye and started toward me. I dropped my head to my work, trying my best to look focused.
He sank into the chair, spinning around twice, and said, “Okay. Spill.”
I looked up from the papers and flashed him my best imitation of innocent. “Huh?”
He wasn’t convinced. “The entire time I was over there, you were watching her. You’re even drooling a little bit. You need a bib, man.”
I set down the folder and frowned. We were in his temporary office on the main floor—much to Nader’s dismay. Devin and Donna had gone back and forth all morning to the copier. I’d glanced up a few times, but no way was I that transparent. “I do not.”
He jumped up from behind his desk and crossed the room. Closing the office door, he winked. “It’s okay. I know Nader has all these rules about intercompany dating, but tell me the truth. You have a thing for the brunette, don’t you?”
“She’s cute, but I don’t, like, know her or anything.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “But you’d like to, yeah?”
“I’m not her type.” Plus, we’re in competition to steal your life’s work…
He folded his arms. “You just said you didn’t know her. How can you tell what her type is?”
“Have you seen her? Way out of my league.”
He slapped me hard on the shoulder. “You just need the right opportunity.”
…
In Wentz’s twisted nest of a mind, the right opportunity turned out to be a double date at Estella’s, an uppity Italian joint with napkins that probably cost more than Cain’s entire wardrobe. I didn’t know how he swung it, or what lie he’d told to get her there, but we were seated at a back table waiting for Devin and Donna to arrive.
“This isn’t going to end well,” I said. We’d gotten there early so Wentz could coach me. Under any other circumstances, I’d roll my eyes and ask him what reality he lived in. He was all about putting up a front. Act this way, say that. The dude didn’t believe in being himself, which was a shame. He had that weird kind of charm that girls seemed to go nuts over. Under all the pretenses and forced manners, the guy was a frigging riot.
Apparently he’d had a thing for Donna since she’d started, but according to him, she’d never given him the time of day. That’s why he refused to move his office off the main floor, because Donna’s desk was right outside. I wanted to tell him that if he’d just open his eyes, he’d see she was crazy about him. Every time I saw her, she stared at him with the eyes of a desperate woman.
“I thought intercompany dating was against the rules,” I said, tossing back a large gulp of the wine Wentz made me order.
“Against the rules? Whose rules? Nader’s? Didn’t we go through this earlier? Dude. I own the company. I make the rules.” He tapped his chin. “Hmm. Maybe Monday I’ll make a new rule. Fridays will be dress like a clown day. Oh! Or maybe bring your pet to work day! I could carry around the fish… What do you think?”
It was a shame I had to get the formula and slink back to Parkview. I liked Wentz and could totally see us hanging. “I think you’re crazy, man.”
He nudged me and nodded to the door. “Show time.”
I turned and the moment I saw her, everything else faded to black. A curve-hugging black dress showed off miles and miles of creamy skin, chestnut hair hung wild, and legs… Oh, man. Those legs. I was so busy trying not to drool on myself that I almost missed the scowl on her face.
Almost.
I leaned closer to Wentz, fingers curling around the edge of the table, and kicked him hard. “Dude. What did you say to get her here? She looks pissed.”
He waved me off and stood to greet the girls. “You ladies look amazing.” With a flourish so unlike him—meaning restrained and proper—he stepped over and pulled out Donna’s seat.
After several seconds of hesitation, I did the same with Devin’s. She snorted and plopped down, glaring daggers at Donna who smiled like an idiot at Wentz.
I felt a very Cain-like retort bubble to the surface, but was able to swallow it. Thankfully I had a better grip on his dickhead tendencies now—but that didn’t mean things wouldn’t slip out here and there. Even months after I’d evicted Sheltie from his own body, his personality pushed through once in awhile. There were days I never bothered getting off the couch or going outside.
“Donna,” Devin said in a sugary-sweet and totally fake tone. “You didn’t mention we were meeting anyone else.”
Donna was ear-to-ear smiles, staring at Wentz like he was the inventor of the wheel. “Didn’t I?”
“No,” Devin said. She turned to me, eyes accusing, and added, “What a surprise.”
Donna was still grinning at Wentz, oblivious to Devin’s sarcasm. Really, she and Wentz made the perfect couple. Neither saw what was going on right in front of them. “A good surprise though, right?” When she finally tore her eyes away from him, she nodded to me. “You and Cain have so much in common!”
Devin’s eyes went wide. “In common? With him?” She leaned back, arms folded, as the waitress brought us our drinks. “This I have to—”
All the color faded from Devin’s face, and when I followed her gaze to the door, I choked on my drink. Walking toward us with the hostess was Henley and Anderson.
“Are you okay?” Donna asked as I wiped the wine-dribble from the tip of my chin.
I nodded to Donna, watching from the corner of my eye as they took a seat two tables down. Setting my glass on the table, I looked to Devin, who seemed ready to crack. “I’m fine. I need to use the bathroom.” Excusing myself, I rounded our table, intentionally passing Anderson and Henley on the way to the restroom. As I’d hoped, Henley was only a few steps behind me.
“What the hell are you doing here,” I spat once the door closed behind him.
Henley shot me a look of mock surprise. With an innocent smile, he said, “Anderson heard this place had the best garlic bread. We decided to check things out.”
Cain’s temper rose to the surface, and admittedly, I did little to push it back down. “If you f*ck this up—”
“Someone’s a bit on edge. That Wentz guy doesn’t know who we are. Besides…I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to scope out Devin in a short dress.” He folded his arms and leaned against the sink. “Think maybe she’d wanna party with me after she ditches you losers?”
“Stay away from her, because I swear—”
Henley shot forward and shoved me hard into the wall. “What? What are you going to do about it?”
“Don’t test me, Henley,” I breathed, voice dangerous.
He threw back his head and laughed, sending the Cain bits of me over the edge. A memory surged. Cain’s father laughing. Always laughing. I reacted without thought. Pushing off the wall, I knocked Henley aside and clipped the corner of his jaw with my fist. The blow rocked his head to the left, and brought a string of curses from his lips.
He threw a punch of his own. It landed slightly higher than mine, catching me in the mouth. The force caused me to stumble and trip back, missing the sink as I tried to grab it for balance. I ended up on the floor, the taste of blood coating my tongue.
Henley stood over me, wiping a smear of my blood on the leg of his jeans. “Don’t f*ck with me, Cain. You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Without another word, he stalked from the room and I pulled myself upright. My lip was split, and there was a good chance I’d have a small bruise across the bottom half of my face by morning. Henley threw a mean hook.
Once I’d cleaned myself up, I made my way back to the table. Anderson and Henley were gone, their table abandoned. It’d been worth the split lip if it had gotten them to leave. At least now Devin might be able to actually enjoy dinner without having to worry about them looking over her shoulder.
“Oh my God,” Donna gasped.
Wentz frowned. “What happened to you?”
I tentatively touched my lip, doing my best not to cringe. “I’m a klutz. I tripped and hit the edge of the sink.”
Devin didn’t say anything, and maybe it was my imagination, but her glare seemed less frosty.
At least, a little.
Despite knocking over a glass of water, making Devin sick with what I’d ordered—apparently she was a vegetarian—having several Cain moments, and the crap with Anderson and Henley, the dinner went well.
At least it did for Wentz and Donna.
By dessert they were giggling like idiots and eye humping each other like rabbits on crack. Every once in a while though, I’d notice Donna’s stare seemed just a bit too intense. Not so much a girl with a crush, but more a girl with a mission. I hoped she wasn’t a gold digger. Wentz had to look pretty damn good to someone looking to line their bank account.
As for Devin, the only look I’d gotten was the I-wish-I-could-kill-you-with-my-mind glare, and a sharp kick under the table when my shoe accidentally brushed her leg.
When we were finished, Wentz paid the bill and gave me a sly wink. “So you don’t mind giving Devin a ride home, do you Doug?”
Suddenly it all fell into place. The bastard. He’d planned to have me take Devin home right from the start. Halfway through dinner, he asked if I was able to borrow a car—which I was—then mentioned that he’d need me to give him a ride home. He’d conveniently had his driver drop him off, but since he and Donna had decided to go somewhere—I did not want to know where or to do what—that left Devin without a ride, since the girls had come together.
In that moment, the guilt I felt over my plans to steal the Dromin12 formula evaporated. In fact, plotting to shave Wentz’s head while he slept one afternoon might even be in the cards.
The idea of spending time with Devin would have been so much more appealing if she didn’t want to grind my nuts into powder.
Devin stood and backed away from the table, nearly knocking over the chair in her haste to put some distance between us. There was a chill in her voice and it was obvious how she made it a point to avoid looking directly at me. “No. I can catch a cab.”
Wentz followed suit and shook his head. He squared his shoulders, voice ringing with the same tone I’d heard him use on Nader. Determined and unflinching. “I insist Doug drives you home. This way I know you’ll get there safe and sound. The cab drivers in this city are crazy.”
She shook her head emphatically.
God. Did she hate me that much? We were going to the same place for crap’s sake. “I’ll behave. Promise,” I said with a wink, then I gave myself a mental lashing. Yeah. I’ll behave? ’Cause that didn’t sound at all creepy, right? I sure as hell wouldn’t get in a car with me after a comment like that.
Devin could see she wasn’t going to win. She sighed. “Fine.”
Wentz nodded, satisfied, and winked at Donna. I wanted to kick him.
We said our goodbyes and parted at the curb. Devin gave Donna one last, longing look—which Donna pointedly ignored—before following me to the spot I’d left my borrowed ride. Anderson had given me the keys to a 2010 Ford Explorer.
“The food was good, right?” I said after we’d pulled onto the road. I didn’t want to bring up Anderson and Henley because she’d seemed so upset by it, but I couldn’t stand the silence. It was as thick as sludge, and driving me nuts. Devin faced the window, shoulders stiff and fingers drumming against her leg in a pattern that reminded me of my favorite song. When we pulled up to the red light, for an insane moment I was worried she might jump from the car.
But she just sat there. Silent.
“Wentz really likes her,” I continued. Small talk wasn’t something I was into, but I felt the need to fill the silence. “Has for a while now. He’s been too much of a chicken-shit to ask her out. They make a cool couple.”
Nothing.
I sighed and clutched the wheel. To hell with this crap. “What do you want me to say? I was an a*shole. I’m sorry.”
She shifted in her seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn in my direction. “I’m trying to understand why you care if I’m pissed at you. We’re not friends, and we have nothing in common, so why is it so important to you that you need to keep apologizing?”
“How do you know?”
She flinched. “How do I know what?”
“That we have nothing in common? You don’t know me.”
She laughed. It was a bitter sound that cut to the bone. “I know you. You’re just like—”
“Don’t start that again, okay? I’m not the same as everyone else.”
“Whatever,” she said, facing the window again. I turned the corner about a block from the boarding house and pulled up to the red light. As it switched to green, she sighed. “Why do you care what I think?”
“The Cain you read about in that file isn’t me. Not anymore. I know it sounds like a line, but it’s true.” I swung the car into the spot on the end and killed the engine. There were other things to focus on and I was wasting too much time, but I had an idea. I liked her, yeah, but if I could get her to trust me, by working together we might be able to pull this off. Either she was going to be an ally or she wasn’t. I decided to go all out. “This place…Zendean. I don’t know. There’s something wrong about them. There’s more going on here than what Anderson is telling us. I’m sure of it. I just thought maybe it’d be nice to have a friend.” I threw my hands up and shrugged. “My bad.”
My name is Brandt Cross, and I play it cool with the ladies…
I didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, I slid from the car and crossed the lot without as much as a glance in her direction. Dez always told me I had a flair for dramatic exits. The car door closed behind me and I slipped in through the side door without looking back. After hanging the keys where I’d found them, I grabbed a soda from the fridge and started for my room.
The halls were quiet—not that the place was usually a buckshot of chaos, but it was still early. Nearly ten. Anderson must have had them out on drills. Sometimes he changed things up a little, taking us out to the nature preserve behind the main building.
I pushed through my door and gave it a halfhearted shove with my foot. As I suspected, I never heard it close.
“Can I come in?”
I shrugged and flopped onto the bed without looking back. In the close quarters of my room, I could smell her perfume. I didn’t normally dig that kind of thing—most girls didn’t know when enough was enough—but this was nice. Kind of citrusy. Not that heavy, flowery crap my old math teacher used to douse herself in. I came home from school every day of freshman year with a migraine. “If I say no will you leave?”
“Probably not.” She closed the door, and when I turned, I saw she was playing with the thin silver band on her thumb.
God, she was pretty.
I took a long pull from the soda and kicked my feet up without yanking off my shoes. “Did you need something, or are you just here for the scenery?” Crap. Biting down on my tongue, I internally cursed Cain. The guy always had to have the last word.
“Henley hit you.”
The obvious statement had Cain wanting to shoot a sarcastic reply, but I managed to control the impulse. “Got him to leave though.”
“I can’t figure you out,” she said, pulling out the chair in the corner. She smoothed her skirt and sat down, her eyes never leaving mine.
“You keep saying that. Really, I’m not hard to figure.”
“No, you really are. It’s like you’re two different people. One minute you’re a complete and total dick, and the next you’re…not as much of a dick.” She looked uncomfortable. “Anyway, I was thinking about it in the car, and I sort of owe you an apology.”
I tried not to seem interested. “For?”
“Well, for starters, I was pretty rude to you tonight. For the most part, you’ve been astonishingly nice.” She shrugged. “I mean, nice for you, anyway.”
I waved it off. “No big.”
She shifted in the seat, obviously uncomfortable. “There’s one more thing. It’s about the other night… You seem to genuinely feel guilty about it—which totally doesn’t seem like you, by the way—so I wanted to set things straight.”
“The other night?” I ran through our interactions in my head, not understanding at first. And then it hit me. A tidal wave of relief flooded through the room. Relief that quickly turned to annoyance. “Don’t even tell me… You mean I didn’t—I didn’t push you to kiss me, did I?”
She looked away.
“That was a really crappy thing to do!” I was angry, but even more than that, I was relieved. When I managed to successfully push Wentz at Skinners and nearly had an aneurism, I should have figured it out.
My name is Brandt Cross, and even under the influence of someone else’s personality, I knew I’d never do that…
At least she had the decency to look sorry. “I didn’t realize it at first—”
“Didn’t realize it? You let me think I’d pushed you into kissing me. That I’d forced you to do something against your wishes—that’s pretty huge, Devin. How do you not realize you’re kissing someone of your own free will?”
Her expression hardened. “I didn’t want to believe it, okay?”
“Wow,” I said, sliding off the bed. Cain wasn’t my kind of guy. His wardrobe consisted of near-goth wear—everything was either black or dark blue, and had skulls on it. A lot of frigging skulls. But as far as guys went, he wasn’t leper material. “I’m no Prince Charming, but I’m not Bart the Dog-Faced Boy, either.”
She stomped her foot. “That’s not what I mean. I just—I didn’t want to admit that I felt any kind of attraction to you. You’re kind of an a*shole.”
I folded my arms. Sure, I was angry, but it was fun to watch her squirm. The right hand corner of her upper lip kind of trembled and her left eyebrow rose just above the right. It left me twitching in places that might get me into trouble if I wasn’t careful. “Not helping your case here…”
“I just mean that I tend to attract a certain—type.”
I set the soda down and glared at her. “Meaning me?”
She didn’t answer so I kept going.
“I hate to burst your little self righteous bubble, but you don’t know what type I am. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure you’ve never met my type.”
“I want to trust you,” she said softly. “I need to. I need to trust someone here. What you said in the car—about these people—about what they’re doing… I agree with you. Something isn’t right. But…” She sighed and glanced at the closed door. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to me and said, “Do you know why they have me working at Dromere?”
Some of the tension left my shoulders and the venom drained from my voice. “I barely understand why I’m there.”
She stood and came a few feet closer. Lowering her voice, she said, “Information. They want me to find and steal files from Wentz’s main computer. Something called Dromin12.”
“Same here.”
“I know,” she said sadly. “They have us working against each other. Whichever one of us finds it first gets the prize.” She stopped playing with the ring on her finger and squared her shoulders, looking me in the eye. “My father is sick. If I find the formula, Anderson promised to heal him.”
“He promised me a cushy lifestyle. But if we’re working against each other, why tell me?”
Her expression turned steely. “Because I want to appeal to the tiny shred of humanity I hope is hidden somewhere in that sludge you call a brain. My father’s life is at stake. I want you to let me find the formula. Let me be the one to deliver it to Anderson.”
In that moment, I wanted so badly to tell her the truth. To admit that I needed the formula not for material reasons, but to save lives. But I couldn’t. It was too risky. “Do you even know what it is? What it does?”
“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped defensively. “I know it’s probably a bad idea to get it for them, but this is my father’s life we’re talking about.”
My name is Brandt Cross, and I’m here to save many lives…not just one…
“Have you found any information on it yet?”
She hesitated. “No, and that’s why I’m telling you all this. I want you to help me find it.”
“You want me to help you make me lose?”
Her face turned red. “This isn’t a game, Cain! My father’s life is on the line. All you’ve got at stake is power and a cozy place at Anderson’s side. Are you really that much of a bastard? Please…” Her desperation made my insides clench. “Please. Just push Wentz to give me the formula.”
What could I say? There was no way I could let her get the formula and hand it over to Anderson—but I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. “I’ve been trying to push him since day one and I’m having some trouble with it…”
Everything about her seemed to deflate.
The defeat in her eyes really got to me. It filled me with determination. To help Dez—and help her. “But our abilities aren’t the only way we can find something,” I rushed on. I would still keep trying to push Wentz, but time was getting short, so I needed to explore other options.
She brightened. “What else could we possibly do?”
I flashed her a sly smile. “Maybe there’s a way we can find out how Anderson planned to help your father. If it was another Six, we can find them ourselves. We start digging.”
My name is Brandt Cross, and I would have made an awesome investigative journalist…just like my father…