Page 9
~
Devin broke up the reunion in Beth’s apartment, claiming that they needed to get Benny to a safer place as soon as possible.
“He needs food and sleep,” Cali said. “Based on what we saw with the rest of you, that combo is the most important thing right now.”
Benny’s stomach rumbled, and that normalcy, that absolute physical reaction, made everyone smile.
Everyone but Jordan, who’d bailed a while ago, saying she needed to get in touch with Internal Affairs this morning. While the words sounded correct even though he didn’t quite understand what’d happened yesterday to warrant the scrutiny, her vibe was off. Then Beth had snuggled next to his shoulder and he’d transferred his attention to his sister.
But he had to wonder why the absolute need to know that his twin was safe and sound warred with a bone-deep need to ensure the same thing about Jordan.
He wished his brain wasn’t scrambled like it was right now, that he could remember. But it was like his memory had ceased to exist for the last year.
“Let’s get to the penthouse,” Devin said. “A friend from Last Light Security upgraded the internal systems, so even fucking Davenport can’t get in.”
Benny still wasn’t sure what all of this meant, and the enormity of even the little bit he did comprehend was beginning to crash over him.
The rest of the team peeled off to presumably catch up on sleep, and Devin, Tate and Beth bundled him up in a tricked-out SUV and sped toward the Strip through the pre-rush-hour traffic. So much had happened, and it was only eight a.m.
He’d never been to their destination, the Zephyr, before. It had always been a bit too rich for his blood. When they pulled in, one of the valets greeted Devin and Tate by name, and then they were fast-walking through the doors, across the lobby of the attached condo tower, and toward the elevators.
A tall, distinguished man in an impeccable suit waited for them with a room service cart. The incongruity of the man’s dress and the fact that he was a room service waiter struck Benny as odd, and it became even stranger when he recognized him.
He and Laurence Malone hadn’t known each other well, but PJs and helicopter pilots tended to run in concentric circles within the Air Force, even with the rank disparity.
He kept his surprise in check and didn’t meet Malone’s gaze since the world thought Benny was dead. He was pretty sure Laurence Malone wasn’t supposed to know otherwise.
It surprised the hell out of him when Malone stepped into the elevator with them, pushing the cart, then tipped his head toward Benny. “Good to see you alive, man.”
Benny looked at Dev for an explanation.
“Just give it a minute. Until we’re upstairs. Then you need to eat, and we’ll figure out what to do after that.”
The elevator rushed upward and when the doors opened, they stepped into the foyer of a posh penthouse. Everything from the fancy wallpaper to the polished floors gleamed with the unmistakable sheen of old money.
They passed through massive double doors into a space Benny had only ever seen in magazines. Sunlight poured in through towering windows, flooding the living area with morning desert light. Far below them, the Strip came to life.
It was one of the fanciest places Benny had ever been to, and he wasn’t altogether comfortable here. Dev walked to a sleek, glossy panel beside the door and punched in a series of commands.
“Security is in place. EM shield up.”
“EM shield?” Benny repeated incredulously. “What is this, the CIA?”
“These days? Damn close,” Dev said dryly. “You need to truly understand what we’re up against before you make any decisions about what you want to do. But first, eat and then rest. Nothing is going to change in the next few hours, and if it does, one of us will wake you. Malone is the head of security here, and a tertiary member of SMS now. It made sense to bring him in, especially since he’s the one who flew us out to Arizona last week to get Tate and Beth.”
Since his brain resembled a bowl of oatmeal right now, Benny put that information in his back pocket to turn over later. He’d trust Devin and Tate with this, just as he’d trusted them during therapy.
So he inhaled the cheeseburger and fries, guzzled about a gallon of water, and then staggered to the bedroom, propped up against Tate as all of his strength seemed to drain away.
Tate pulled back the sheets and helped him strip down. He had no humility at this point. Then he tumbled into bed, crashing out before his head even hit the pillow.
~
The scent of coffee wafting beneath the bedroom door brought him slowly back to the present, and when he looked at the old-school alarm clock on the nightstand, he saw that it was two in the afternoon. He’d slept the day away, but felt so much better.
Ready to tackle the improbability that had become his life. Or at least he thought he was. But first, he needed to get clean.
The multiple nozzles of the bougie shower beat away any lingering tension and the flop sweat that had accumulated while he slept.
