Page 19 of Bound

The safe haven Zeke and he had created would be exposed beyond repair.

And that wasn’t the worst of it.

Eventually, Jayd would see those reports too. She’d watch those talking heads and believe all their judgments. She’d listen to the shame they spread in the name of link clicks and ratings and instantly see her own kink experiences in a new light. Every experience she’d known with him.

Not. Acceptable.

If memories were all that either of them could cherish from those magical hours in Paris, then he would protect them with a vengeance.

Actions that had to happen now.

“Carey.” He felt crappy for cutting into her happy chatter, especially because her excitement about the newest streaming zombie series was practically contagious. “Hey, I can’t wait to hear more about this. You know I’m always down for some epic brain scarfers…”

“But you need to talk to Z,” she filled in before his mind finished the thought.

“You’re getting scary good at that, woman.”

“I’d totally own that if he hadn’t just run up here like he hasn’t peed all day.”

Brick winced, already anticipating the price his sutures would pay for his laughter. Fortunately, his wounds held to under five on the pain scale. Whatever they were doing to train their medical teams around here, it was the stellar choice.

“Well, Kermit the Frog on a fucking camel.”

Zeke’s voice blasted across the line like a Sirocco wind from the terrain he’d just taken in questionable vain. But if a matching dose of gravity was what he was after from Brick, the dude would be left hard up.

“Hold up. You mean in a carnal sense? Because I’m not sure Kermie’s into camel kink. You think Marisol would know?”

“Leave my kid out of this,” Z barked. “I know your deflections like the backs of both hands, asshole.”

“Not deflecting.” Since he was confident the guy knew his straight shots as well as the famous deflections, he gave it no embellishment beyond his sincerity. “Probably trying to dilute things with humor, maybe… Yeah, that’s likely it.”

“Things?” Zeke retorted. “What things, exactly?” Scuffling noises scratched up the line, giving away his friend’s abrupt movements. Big dork was probably trying to eyeball the phone’s screen for an origin number. Brick had no idea what was showing up, if anything. “Where the fuck are you?” Z demanded. “Are you even aware of what’s going on? They’ve caught some dipwad on camera in Paris, drilling a guy in a bar between the eyes and then making off with the princess of Arcadia. The footage is grainy enough that they’re pinning it on a certain brick with feet.”

“Don’t know anyone with that rap sheet, man. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

“Not fucking around about this, buddy. This is now an international manhunt. To make shit worse, the crackpot led all the uniforms out to Bourget, where he stirred some bullet stew with the national police. And that was before—”

“He made a suicide run across the tarmac with the princess? And then escaped onto the bird behind her?”

New gruff static from his ended, this time because of Z’s chuff. “So you do know. But why’d you go dead air on us? Especially when we all knew you’d hung back in Paris for some R and R. Then when days went by, and you didn’t call or show…” Another brutal sound, more like the beginnings of a full choke. “Christ on toast, man. You don’t want to know all the scenarios I created. Everything from some crazy mob getting their hands on you, to you going feral somewhere in the French countryside, to a faction of the Arcadian government itself hunting you down—what?” He bit it out as soon as Brick pushed a rough snort into the rant. “Tell me. You owe me, fucker.”

“The Arcadians, and their…hunting skills.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not a half-bad guess.”

“What?” Z spat. “Why?”

“Because I was the dipwad on the footage. And also the idiot on the tarmac at Bourget, and in the plane.”

“What?”

“Well, the plane ride wasn’t part of the plan. But that got changed courtesy of a few knocks of lead, courtesy of the Gendarmerie that an Arcadian asswipe called out on us. Since one of them grazed my dome, I wasn’t exactly snapping the right Legos together, and—”

“Wait. Fuck.” He really choked this time. “Want to connect me from one to ten in a logical line this time?”

“Depends on what you want to define as one,” he returned. “There’s the part about Jayd Cimarron sneaking off of Arcadia in the first place. Then there’s the part where they learned she’d made it to Paris, but nobody could find her there.”

“I assume the girl had a good reason besides wanting to grab the limited-edition Louis Vuitton boots?”

“It’s so terrifying that you know shit like that now.”