40 Souls to Keep - 8. Chapter 8

Lucas realized the flaw in his plan when he woke up.

He crept out of bed, leaving Macy and Jase behind, and went looking for something to drink. The fridge had a stick of butter and a jar of soy sauce. “Whoa, Mother Hubbard, you’re fired,” he said, pushing aside the Kikkoman’s. Nope, nothing hiding behind it. The pantry was in a similar state. He should have known. Hadn’t that been the point of this case? No food. The kids had scavenged everything.

That was going to be a problem.

The clock on the microwave said 1:30, a disorienting time to be waking from a long sleep. The condo—dark, silent and cool—perpetuated the feeling that it was just after midnight, but diffuse sunlight slanted in through the shutters, so Lucas knew it was early afternoon. He went to wake up Jase.

“I’m going out for supplies,” he whispered.

“No.” Jase struggled to a sitting position. “That’s crazy. They’ve got to be looking for you. Let me go.”

It made more sense than Lucas wanted to admit. He frowned. “I should be the one to go.”

“Why?” Jase threw the covers aside, tucking them back around Macy once he was standing. “We’re in this together. They know you, they don’t know me. Plus, if I run into trouble, I’ve got something you don’t.”

“Your sexy voice?” Lucas asked innocently.

Jase stepped into the short corridor between the bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. He rustled through the closet. “If you like it so much, why didn’t you say so?”

“I’m saying it now.” Lucas frowned. “What are you doing?”

Jase emerged from the closet with a pair of pants and button-down shirt. “I’m not going anywhere until I shower and change.”

Reminded of his own sorry state, Lucas scratched at his rumpled clothing and made a cursory sniff of his T-shirt. He owned the shower after Jase.

Jase emerged clean and freshly dressed ten minutes later. Easing the bedroom door shut behind him, he snagged Lucas’s elbow, stopping him mid-stride. “You’re pacing. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got no money on me, and I’m a little nervous about using the ATM.”

Jase shook his head as he buttoned the cuffs on his shirt. “I don’t need any money.”

This strange power to influence was still a sore spot between them. Lucas sensed that Jase resented his ability, but that didn’t stop him from exploiting it. “So you’re just going to take what we need. And that’s okay with you?”

Jase’s fingers twitched, and the button popped loose. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Then don’t,” Lucas insisted. “I’ll give you my card. Get cash. I’ve got about a hundred in my account.”

Of course, Jase had to get practical. “There might come a time when we really need that money.” That was all he said. Not “For Christ’s sake, Lucas, pull your head out of your ass.” Which he deserved, in retrospect. The people after them weren’t traveling the moral high road.

“Fine,” he snapped, conceding, but not gracefully. “There’s a Kmart next to the Publix. If you think it’s safe, Macy could really use a few things. Clothes, you know.”

“What’s her favorite color?” Jase asked, bending down to tie his shoes.

The question was empathetic and unexpected. “I don’t know,” Lucas admitted.

Straightening, Jase grabbed Martinez’s car keys.

“It would help, wouldn’t it? Getting her something she likes? Help her mood, maybe?”

Yes, of course it would. Lucas racked his brain. “She’s wearing a sundress, but pants would be more practical. Something with sparkles, maybe?” It wasn’t much, but it would get Jase started. “The shopping center is about a half a mile away. Go left out of the cul-de-sac, second right, first left, then follow that to the stoplight.”

“No problem,” Jase said.

“No problem now, but what if you don’t remember how to get back? I told you, this place is a maze.”

Jase indulged him with a rare open smile. “I won’t get lost coming back.” He darted a glance at the closed bedroom door. “If I forget your directions, I’ll just follow my nose back to Macy.”

Lucas blinked. Another superpower? “What, you can smell her?”

“No, Lucas. I’m drawn toward her naturally. Until—” Jase shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He brushed his fingers over Lucas’s arm, then disappeared through the front door.

One more thing to talk about. Their agenda was filling up fast. It was going to be one hell of a conversation. Belatedly, he thought to turn on the TV. If Swift—or anybody—figured out that Martinez’s car was gone, or if she hadn’t gotten Lucas’s out of there fast enough, driving the Camry around town was asking for trouble.

He didn’t find anything horrible on the morning news, though the police station fire headlined. No mention of drugs, or guns, or Macy, and Lucas was willing to take the good with the strange. Surely it would be impossible to cover up a shootout with all those witnesses. And who would want to? It was what wasn’t getting reported that made Lucas nervous. Nothing added up.

Macy was still sleeping when Jase returned forty-five minutes later. “No problems,” he said after the car was safely tucked away in the garage. Lucas helped him carry the groceries into the kitchen. Jase untangled the handles and held up a Kmart bag. “Girl clothes.”

Lucas inspected the booty. “Hey, everything matches. You could have a future in this.”

“In what? Being on the lam?” Jase opened a carton of orange juice and chugged it right out of the container.

“On the lam? Really?” Lucas arched his eyebrow at the tiny pair of sparkly jeans Jase had picked. “Do people still say that?”

Jase swiped his hand over his mouth and set the juice in the fridge. “Is Macy still sleeping?” He sidled up behind Lucas, slipping his arms around his waist.

The jeans slipped out of Lucas’s hands. “Um.”

“It wasn’t a trick question.”

Lucas felt Jase smiling against the back of his neck. Bastard. His body tightened, pretty much a conditioned response to the other man at this point. He didn’t resist when Jase turned him around. He’d noticed a coiled strength in Jase last night. His wiry build was deceiving. And also enough of a turn-on that it was hard to keep his head when they were this close. Looking into Jase’s eyes didn’t help. That must be another superpower the guy was holding back. Hypnosis.

“What are you thinking about?” Jase nuzzled his jaw. It broke their eye contact and Lucas’s tongue finally loosened.

“Your dreamy eyes,” Lucas admitted. “I figure all I need is my own pair of sparkly jeans and a Tiger Beat magazine, and my transformation to teenage girl will be complete.”

“And what a shame that would be,” Jase said, leaning in.

The kiss started slower than it had the night before, more tentative, which was backward. But then their whole freaking relationship was backward and complicated.

“Lucas?” Macy’s sleepy voice called.

And crowded.

“You’re being paged,” Jase said against Lucas’s cheek.

“Sucks being popular.”

But Lucas couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset when they found Macy sitting up in bed, looking filthy and rumpled but bright-eyed and alert. The resiliency of children amazed him. “Hey, Macy.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I smell.”

Lucas had scored his own shower while Jase was out. Not the long, drawn-out one he’d craved, but he could still appreciate how much better he’d felt afterward. He pointed down the short hall to the master bath. “There’s a tub in there about as big as a duck pond. And Jase went shopping while you were sleeping and brought back sparkly jeans. How does that sound?”

Her smile said it all.

* * *

The evening news revealed nothing new, and Lucas admitted he was going to have to call Swift and Connie. They couldn’t hide forever, although the quiet, cave-like feel of the small condo helped Macy. She cried, grieving quietly, never drawing attention to the fact, and accepted Lucas’s words of condolence like someone far beyond her years. “I miss them,” she sniffed, adding, “They were unhappy,” as if the two thoughts were related.

“Maybe they’re happier now?” Lucas offered. “Do you believe in heaven?”

“No,” Macy said without a trace of bitterness. “Besides, I don’t like the idea of them looking down on us.”

Frowning, Lucas pulled her into a hug. “Why not?”

“I don’t want them to see what’s happening to me.”

Macy Pearl, the most practical seven-year-old on the planet.

* * *

Tucked into bed and buttoned into a new pair of Disney Princess pajamas, Macy pouted. “But we slept all day. Why do I have to go to bed so early?”

“It’s not early,” Lucas said. “It’s almost eleven. And I’m letting you watch the movie, aren’t I?”

Macy frowned at the flat screen mounted on the wall across the room, where Dorothy clung to her bed as her house spun in the eye of the twister. When it landed with a thump in Munchkinland, Macy pursed her lips.

“It’s only eight o’clock in California.”

“And four in the morning in England,” Lucas said.

“We’re not in England,” Macy said smugly.

“Toto,” Dorothy said on the TV, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Lucas tweaked her nose. “Call me if you need anything. Jase and I will be in the living room, okay?” She nodded, already distracted by Dorothy’s yellow brick road. Lucas left her in Glinda’s good hands and joined Jase in the next room.

Jase waited on the couch, and not in his usual sprawl. Instead, he looked ready to spring off the cushion if Lucas made a sudden move. They’d been avoiding this all day, each turning aside when it looked as if the other would bring it up, enjoying a few precious hours of nobody trying to kill them. With Macy glued to Lucas’s side most of the day, few words had passed between them.

Despite that, it wasn’t in Lucas’s nature to avoid unpleasant things, and he got the impression Jase followed a similar creed. With Macy in bed, there were no more excuses. Lucas propped his feet on the coffee table.

“You want to draw straws?”

“No.” Jase eased back against the pillows, but his spine stayed straight with tension. “Can we both agree that what I have to say is more interesting than what you have to say?”

Lucas clamped his mouth shut before a few choice words on ego ruined story time. If anything, he knew when his jokes were in poor taste. “Officially, I’ll plead the Fifth. Off the record, hell yes. You go first.”

Jase watched him, saying nothing.

Lucas tapped his fingers on his knee, craving a beer. Anything to take the edge off what was about to come. “Is the dramatic pause over yet?”

Jase’s shoulders fell a fraction, and a smile touched his lips.

Good. At least he was losing his acerbic indifference. Maybe some wouldn’t call it that. Others might say he was stoic, or even shy. Lucas personally thought it was Jase’s ability—not the healing part, that was pretty cool, but the creepy thing that made people give him their firstborn child—that accounted for that. They couldn’t see through to the bitterness he nursed below the surface.

“I’m trying to decide on where to start,” Jase said.

“Take your time. I don’t mind,” Lucas said, begging not to be struck down for the egregious lie. He waited some more. “Is it that painful?”

The answer surprised him. “Yes,” Jase said. “Very painful.” Leaning forward, he pulled at his borrowed T-shirt, slipping out of one sleeve. To Lucas’s shocked silence, he raised his arm and pointed at a small tattoo on the underside, a few inches above the elbow.

Lucas tilted his head. “Forty?”

Jase let his arm drop down in a slow arc. “That’s right. Forty souls to keep.” He stared at the tattoo for a moment longer before raising his gaze to Lucas. "Okay, here we go."