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“Aye, he is. And that’s all we can ask, now, isn’t it?”
I strip my clothes off, jerking my head towards the door. “In or out, baby, or Miranda is going to get an eyeful.”
Derek rolls his eyes, walking out as he closes the door, but not before he growls, “Mine.”
“Damn right you are,” I chuckle, walking into the adjoining bathroom.
“Such a damn tease, Ror,” Turner chuckles, and I smile smugly.
Things are by no means normal, but I’m sure we’ll get to our version of it at some point.
7
ORION
I’ve never wanted to play house with anyone before. I live in solitude for a reason, mostly because I tend to need the anonymity of living in the middle of nowhere so no one will hear the screams.
Here, no one cares if I threaten to kill someone on my list. They shrug and agree. Granted, we all want Lennon to have closure and to feel safe, but it’s odd.
Greg is supposed to come back to sleep and check in, but I haven’t seen him since I got here. Lennon is still with Turner when I hear the door slowly open.
Roark looks over his shoulder while he cooks in the kitchen. Not one to mince words, I hear him yell, “Oye, who’s there?” from the living room.
Smirking, I continue going through information on my computers. If this is my new base, I may as well have my shit to be able to monitor things. So far, no one has been to Derek or my house, and my father has been going to work as if there’s nothing wrong.
“It’s me, guys. I didn’t want to wake anyone in case someone was napping,” Greg says softly as he closes the door behind him.
I want to ask if he’s slept at all, but he’ll give me shit for caring so much. He’s a big boy, Greg’ll sleep when he needs to.
“Are you hungry? I’m making food. Turner is with Lennon, she’s not feeling so hot,” Roark says, continuing to cook.
Greg nods at me when he sees me, continuing through the house to join Roark. Closing my windows, I frown when I see an ad on the dark web.
Locking my screen instead of closing the computer down, I stand to go see why Greg’s here.
“Where’s Derek?” Greg asks, leaning against the counter and taking a long sip of beer. If he’s drinking, he must be finally taking a break.
“He went to check on Lennon. Turner took over a few hours ago, and Derek is worried because she’s starting to get a little feverish,” Roark explains.
Greg frowns. “Miranda said Lennon was afraid she'd pulled her stitches, was she able to check those?”
I nod. “She kicked everyone out about an hour ago to check those, and Lennon slept through it. Though,” my lip twitches, “Miranda did say Lennon tried to kick her.”
Greg barks out a laugh. “Atta girl. It’s a reflex,” he says with a shrug. “The stitches were okay? If she was going to catch an infection, that would be how.”
Roark nods. “They were a little red, so Miranda’s pushing antibiotics in her IV as well. Lenny is fucking going through it,” he sighs.
Derek walks back into the room, and sees Greg. “Hey, man. Anything new happening?”
“Fuck, it’s hard to keep up right now, but yes. Carrie O’Reilly tried to hop a flight out of the country this morning. She was detained, and the idiots lost her. Apparently Carrie said she needed to go to the bathroom, and knocked out the female guard who went with her,” Greg explains.
“Next time she can pee on herself, fucking twatapotamus,” Derek growls.
I know she’s a huge trigger for him and bite my lip, watching. I want to help, offer him comfort, but I don’t know the first thing about how to do it.
Roark snorts. “The woman doesn’t deserve any common courtesy,” he says, closing a cabinet door a bit too hard.
“Trust me, I know. The agent lost her job today, and some of her dignity,” Greg grimaces. “The good news is, Carrie can’t flee the country. She can’t even fly private because I’ve posted her photo across police and airport security’s face recognition. That is going to lead me to my next discussion, which I really need Lennon for, fuck.”
