Hard to Be Good

“What? Why would you . . .” He shook his head as the walls seemed to close in on them.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just thought . . .” She shrugged.

“What?” he asked, heat filling his face.

She looked at him a long moment, and then stepped closer. “If you two are interested in each other, I’d think that was pretty awesome. That’s all.”

Twin reactions coursed through Charlie. Excited surprise at her approval and acceptance, and bone--deep embarrassment that she’d noticed his interest. Had everyone? “Uh. Okay.”

“You’re too cute,” she said. “No wonder he likes you.”

Why didn’t the floor open up and swallow him already? Except, then he couldn’t hear the answer to the question he was dying to ask. “Why would you say that?”

She smiled. “The way he gravitates to you. The way he looks at you, especially when you’re not looking. And the fact that he’s talked to you about what happened yesterday when he won’t with me or Nick. And we’ve both tried.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s brain struggled to process everything she’d said.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said, when he didn’t say anything further.

For a long moment, Charlie stood there, truly dumbfounded. Kat thought Jeremy liked him? And that Charlie was good for Jeremy? His stomach went for a loop--the--loop.

“Hey, Charlie?” Marz called from across the gym.

The words snapped him from his stupor, and Charlie crossed the space and hoped the others wouldn’t realize how shell shocked he felt. “I’m here,” he said.

“Good deal,” Marz said. “Then help me kick some computer ass?”

Charlie smiled. Marz always had a way with words, and his easygoing, lighthearted nature put Charlie at ease. As did the fact that they both worked in the same field. It gave him a starting point of common interest with Marz that Charlie didn’t find with many -people.

And that was when Charlie realized that one of the worst situations of his life—-being kidnapped and tortured—-had led to one of the best. Before being grabbed by the Church Gang, most of Charlie’s life had consisted of doing his computer security consulting ser-vices from his basement apartment. He’d been alone almost all of the time. Now, he had more friends and, frankly, just basic human interaction, than he’d ever had. And he didn’t want to lose that.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “Kicking computer ass, it is.”

“THIS WAS THE second location I had in mind,” Jeremy said to Beckett as they entered the fourth floor of the abandoned warehouse diagonally across the intersection from Hard Ink. They’d already chosen the first location—-the fifth floor of another abandoned building that stood a full block up the street and allowed panoramic views of Eastern Avenue, the main artery into Jeremy’s neighborhood.

Beckett and Dare crossed to the windows, which had long since lost their glass panes. Beckett nodded. “Perfect vantage point of Hard Ink and of the approach from two directions.”

Dare nodded. “You can even see the roadblocks,” he said, pointing to something off in the distance.

Jeremy came up beside him and saw a truck unloading jersey barriers and fencing about three blocks down. Guess Detective Vance had come through. Glancing at Dare, Jeremy realized his gaze had latched on to something much closer. The avalanche of rubble still piled in front of the collapsed section of the Hard Ink building.

A rock formed in Jeremy’s gut. From this vantage point, the whole building was visible from the roof down. His stomach tossed like he’d just crested the highest, sharpest hill on a roller coaster. Because he’d been standing on a part of the roof that no longer existed. And he’d nearly fallen three stories to his death.

Just as two other men had.

The words were out of Jeremy’s mouth before he’d even thought to say them. “I’m so sorry your guys died, Dare. It’s all my fault.”

Nearly black eyes cut Jeremy’s way. “How do you mean?”

From beyond Dare, Beckett’s blue eyes stared at Jeremy, making it clear that Beckett waited for the answer, too.

“I froze. When it happened. If I’d reacted faster—-hell, if I’d reacted at all, Nick could’ve gotten to them instead.” The oddest lightness of being fell over Jeremy at the admission of his guilt to the man most likely to want to do something about it, even as his muscles braced for the consequences.

Dare’s gaze narrowed, but then he shook his head. “Life deals us shit hands sometimes. Harvey and Creed got dealt theirs. That’s not on you.” He turned away from the window as if that settled it.

Laura Kaye's books