Temperance (Defiance #4) Page 14

  Sure was. Caspar would fucking flip if he knew half of what Rebel knew…but until Rebel had all the facts, until he didn’t think he could trust Declan, he wasn’t saying shit.

  Was this the start of Rebel’s betrayal of Defiance? Or was this protecting himself and the man he loved first…

  Dammit, Declan. You need to prove yourself to Defiance.

  An hour later, he was being driven to Keller’s by Declan, in Declan’s big, black truck. They were ushered quickly through the gates, and then the alarms sounded.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Drills,” Declan said grimly. He parked and they hustled into Declan’s private length of tubes, which were heavily guarded and alarmed—he had several rooms and he never slept in the same one two nights in a row.

  Rebel could easily understand that kind of paranoia anyway. But now, knowing what he knew about who Declan was, it made a hell of a lot of sense.

  “Look—I’ve got to go meet with Keller,” Declan told him. “As soon as this is over, I’ll have one of those guys escort you to Bishop, okay?”

  “So you’re allowed to be out and about during drills?”

  “Who said anything about being out?” Declan asked as he disappeared through the door. Rebel stared after him for a second and then went after him.

  And found himself facing an empty hallway. To the right was the way outside, with cameras mounted on both sides of the door that Declan turned on and off when they came in here together. It was monitored by his father’s men—mainly his father, though, for safety purposes, and Rebel could certainly understand that.

  To the left was the way into the compound—an underground tunnel that could connect Declan to his father and his half-brother from Keller’s first marriage that Rebel just learned about. Those cameras couldn’t be turned off. But the wall looked smooth, and Rebel had no idea how to get through that door.

  Whenever Rebel left Declan’s rooms when they were first together, his back had been turned so he couldn’t be identified. He could pull a cap down over his head and move through the hallway, pretend to be Declan, but he wouldn’t fool anyone.

  What he did want was to see Luna, and so he walked into the hall and stared defiantly at the cameras leading to Keller’s, like he was daring whoever was watching to do something, to come after him.

  Because he was done living in goddamned fear of Keller…and of who he slept with. Declan said no one at Keller’s cared about sexual orientation, so it was time to see if that shit was true. Because Rebel didn’t need to stay in Declan’s room with him—the guy had an entire tube to himself and there were plenty of other rooms. Hell, Rebel could’ve been staying with Bishop and Luna as well…but instead, he was right on Declan’s six.

  Telling Defiance was another matter entirely, but this was the first step. Something he wished he’d done when it would’ve mattered. Now, the men would think he was here because of Defiance.

  But you know.

  And that, for the moment, was good enough.

  *

  Declan wasn’t supposed to be on the compound—that much, Siobhan knew. She hadn’t seen him since that afternoon she’d had to assure him that Keller, Bishop and Rebel hadn’t been killed, that awful day when the LoV invaded. She knew, the way most everyone did, that Declan had been put in with Defiance, because Keller told everyone. And Keller had mentioned that Declan wouldn’t be making random trips to the compound, mainly for his own safety.

  She was really worried about his safety, for so many reasons that he’d know about. But she was also really glad to see him, and so she didn’t question the whys, just stepped aside to let him in.

  He settled in across the kitchen table from her, the way he usually did before sliding the envelope to her. He did that monthly.

  She hadn’t expected him to be the one making this delivery, and while she was grateful, she was also particularly ornery. “You want a reading?”

  “No,” he said easily, meaning it.

  “Suppose I want to give you one?” she persisted.

  He sat back and she watched the candlelight gleam across his handsome face. He was an easy guy to have a crush on. Easier still, knowing how safe that really was. He’d never reciprocate, and that’s how she liked it.

  “Go for it,” he told her, held his hands toward her, palms up.

  She stared down at them, regretting pushing this almost immediately. But she ran a finger over his lifeline in his left hand, because he was left dominant, and said, “Your lifeline is…cloudy.”

  He snorted. “That’s not normal, I’m guessing.”

  She gazed up at him. “No. It’s seriously rare. Something—someone—sent you into this world with some serious protection. From other people…and from yourself.”

  He looked intrigued by that, and slightly confused too, but unlike most, he didn’t ask more questions. Because he was really smart.

  She wasn’t as smart, so she continued, “You’re going to fall in love really deeply.”

  She’d spoken those words carefully, and he noted that. Raised a brow when he told her, “Don’t treat me like the rest of the assholes who come to see you.”

  “Why do you come to see me?”

  “Because you won’t accept the money unless we go through this dance.”

  She acknowledged that with a nod. “But you take a big chance coming here.”

  “Really? Like you wouldn’t know this information either way?” He knew she would, and maybe that’s why he hadn’t been worried to approach her in the first place. That made sense. If his secrets were already in her hands, maybe he had a certain relief with her. Maybe he didn’t have to pretend.

  She didn’t have to pretend with him, either. Still… “It doesn’t worry you that I know what I know?”

  “I wouldn’t be paying you if I didn’t think you had integrity. You know this envelope isn’t hush money.”

  It wasn’t—Declan’s intentions burned so brightly that she’d known everything about him days before she’d actually met him. “I have no desire to spill your secrets. Or anyone’s,” she said honestly.

  “Yeah, me neither.”

  “He loves you,” she blurted out, only because—especially because—he looked so sad after he’d spoken. “He’s suffering too.”

  “I don’t know how to make it better.”

  He wasn’t looking for psychic advice at this point. “I don’t know what to do about Kev either,” she confessed.

  He smiled a little. “How about letting him in?”

  “I don’t know if I can put myself through more hurt.”

  “We have the infinite capacity to heal. You don’t want to miss out, babe. It’s too good to miss out on, especially when it’s right.”

  “Stop being so smart,” she muttered.

  He laughed. Pointed to the envelope. “There’s more in there. Zara mentioned the new meds.”

  “They’re helping.”

  “Good. Glad something is.” He paused on the way out. “Let Kev in on what’s happening.”

  “He knows everything.”

  “You and I both know that’s not the same as letting him in.”

  “I know a lot of things,” she blurted out.

  He stiffened, then turned back and shut the door again. “I’m sorry.”

  “They’re coming.”

  “I know. They’ve always been coming, Siobhan. No way to stop this from happening.” He looked serious. “We’re taking care of it.”

  “If I knew more—”

  “You’d tell me,” he finished. “I do want to know one thing, though. How did you know—about me?”

  She supposed Declan had always known that she’d realized he was Keller’s son. “It was early on—maybe my first week on the compound, post-Chaos. One of the men who kidnapped you…” She paused, shook her head. “One day, I saw this guy following you.”

  “A dead guy?” he asked slowly.

  “Yes. You were walking. Stopped. Rubbed your head.”


  He remembered doing that a lot after the rescue. “I had a concussion—a lot of migraines after the recovery. And then one day…”

  “The headaches went away,” she finished. “The man, dark hair, army green jacket? He was with you. Tormenting you. Trying to finish what he started. He was hurting you. And I talked to him—he told me why he kidnapped you and what the plans were. I listened and told him I could help him. I lured him in and then banished him.”

  He stared at her, not in disbelief but rather astonishment. He was trying to take it all in.

  She continued, “He wasn’t ever military. He was posing. His name was Zeke. And he and his two friends pulled off the plan with the help of—”

  She stopped then. He grabbed her wrist and said, “Write it down.”

  “Are you sure?”

  But he was already rooting around for pen and paper. He tore it in half, wrote on his and folded it. He waited for her to do the same.

  They exchanged the notes.

  In his handwriting was the name Kash.

  On hers, she’d written Victor.

  “Different name,” she said softly.

  He smiled wanly. “Same person. V’s nickname was Kash—he brokered deals as V. Kash when he didn’t want anyone to know he was a Keller. No one knew that but us. The family. And apparently, the men he hired to hurt me.”

  “I never met him.”

  “I know. I remember when you came here—from the start, I’d felt protective of you. I guess you’d been returning the favor.”

  “Because I had to.”

  “No, you don’t have to do anything in this world—I know that.”

  She could barely get the words out. When she did, her voice was reed-thin. “Zeke was a Nomad. He was our brother.”

  Declan stared at her. Inside, she quaked, knowing she might’ve just thrown away her whole future here on the compound. Keller kept her and Sashi for their abilities, because they could clear the dead. Because he was superstitious that the exterminations and the other killings he ordered would take their toll on him and on the compound.

  He didn’t know her lineage. Or so she’d thought, until this moment of clarity when the truth was apparent in Declan’s pained expression. “You knew?”

  He held his palm out to her, traced his own lifeline again. “Look closer, Siobhan. Sometimes you miss what’s in front of your own damned eyes.”

  *

  Rebel was still with Bishop and Luna when Declan finally got back to his rooms. He’d met with Keller—and then Keller’s team. He’d briefed them about what could happen…but the only one who knew the real plan was Keller.

  It needed to be that way, no matter how badly Declan wanted to let Rebel know. Either way, it was going to hurt them both.

  This wasn’t the way Declan had pictured things ending. Then again, he wasn’t sure how else it could’ve.

  “You were just fooling yourself,” he said angrily to his reflection after he’d spent time in the shower trying to wash away his future.

  He stripped the towel off from around his waist and walked out into the bedroom. As usual, Rebel seemed to have a bead on whenever he was naked, and this time was no exception.

  Rebel smiled, leaned back on his elbows on the bed and watched Declan. “Good timing.”

  Declan tensed. “Sure.” Rebel stared at him, then got up off the bed and walked toward him. Declan seemed unable to move, and he wasn’t sure why. “You didn’t have to rush back for me.”

  “Didn’t have to. Wanted to.”

  “Last I looked, you didn’t want to be here at all.”

  “Fuck, Dec, I don’t know a hell of a lot. All turned around. But I know the one thing I want. The one thing I need. And he’s right here.” Rebel ran a finger along the scars on Declan’s chest. They were deep, but the tattoos covered them perfectly. Declan had wanted to put his own marks on his skin, even though Keller had offered reconstructive plastic surgery.

  No, the ink was a much better choice. A reminder of how far he’d come.

  Just then, Rebel frowned. Rubbed his fingertips together, like he was trying to recreate or remember the texture of…something.

  Declan took a step back, maybe unconsciously so, just as Rebel moved toward him. “Don’t.”

  But Rebel wasn’t about to be deterred…and it appeared Declan was powerless to stop him.

  It was inevitable.

  The pads of Rebel’s fingertips trailed along Declan’s arms lightly. But quick enough, like Rebel was feeling for—and dismissing—scars.

  Finally, his fingers hovered so damned lightly along Declan’s hip…just below where his pants would sit.

  Declan stilled completely as Rebel just traced the letter, over and over, slowly at first then moving faster over the N that had first been cut intricately, and then branded, into his flesh.

  Rebel mouthed the word “Nomad,” barely giving voice to it.

  Declan wanted to tell him that he didn’t understand, not really, but it appeared to be a betrayal. Probably one too many for Rebel to handle. “You want to hate me.”

  “Couldn’t.” Rebel’s hands dropped from Declan’s body. “What’s happening, Declan? Are you going to try to take them all down?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You matter.”

  It would be better—easier—if Rebel hated him. Declan would rather be hated than mourned. It would be much easier to take on the next steps. “Can you fuck me, Reb? The way I need it?”

  Rebel smiled at him. “Always the way you need it, Dec. Always.”

  *

  Rebel walked over to where Declan stood, holding himself tightly. For the first time ever after a session of rough sex, he actually shifted and jerked away from Rebel’s touch.

  “Was I too rough?” Rebel asked him.

  “No.”

  He traced the marks on Declan’s back, his ass, the ones that circled his wrists, his touch firm, showing Declan that with this shit, he wasn’t fooling around. And Declan didn’t pull away from these touches, but he stared straight ahead, his expression neutral as Rebel examined him.

  “Come on and lie down. I’ll put some arnica on these,” he told Dec now.

  “Don’t need to.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Declan sighed and walked to the bed stiffly. God, the fucker looked miserable, and all because Rebel decided to hold that father shit against him, and mainly because Rebel was more pissed at himself for falling in love with the guy to start with.

  If you’d known that from the first night, would you have done anything different?

  Unless Declan had been wearing a sign attesting to his lineage, there was no way Rebel would’ve been able to stay away. It’d been an instantaneous attraction.

  Declan lay there, waiting, and Rebel blurted out, “I want to tell you something.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Rebel. Not now. Not when it’s something you’re sharing out of guilt.”

  Well, that stung, but Declan was right.

  He massaged the arnica into his wrists first, traced Declan’s hands too, for the hell of it. And then he moved to Declan’s ass and finally his back, ending up lying next to him.

  “None of this was punishment.”

  “Can’t really be if I enjoy the hell out of it. I’m not an idiot on that front. I knew I could stop you,” Declan said. “And now I am.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think…when we go back to Defiance…we should just be roommates.”

  “Seriously? How did we get back here?”

  “We never got past it, Reb. We just pretended. And we’ve fallen back into this cycle.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  Declan’s eyes flickered over him. “With my fucking life, Rebel. You know all about me. That’s not why I’m doing this. In your heart, you have to know that. I’m not punishing you. I’m letting you go. This is too much to expect from anyone, but especially someone from an MC my father could threat
en at a moment’s notice. I don’t want you to think I could fix it all for you, because I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to. That’s interfering in shit I shouldn’t be touching. But I’m telling you, I’d never let anything happen to you or Defiance, no matter what it took.” With that, Declan got up and headed to the bathroom. “I’ll stay in another room tonight.”

  Rebel took a step forward. “No.”

  “Please.” Declan’s voice might’ve broken a little on that word, but Rebel couldn’t be sure.

  “Don’t give up on me, Dec. Not now. Everything you told me, it’s locked up tight here, with you.” Rebel touched his fist to his heart. “Fine to be scared—of me, of everything. But I’m not letting you push me away.”

  Declan had nothing to say to that. It was like the fight had gone out of him…and also, at Rebel’s words, some of the worry. “Okay.”

  Last night—the past week—had taken a lot out of Declan—Rebel knew that. It was up to him to put those pieces back together again, and so, instead of letting Declan walk out of the room, Rebel gathered him up. After a tense moment, Declan’s resistance faded and Rebel took him back to bed.

  Declan slept with his head on his chest the whole night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kev

  The dreams got more intense after Kev’s last visit to Siobhan. It was like she was there with him, in the bed, and he was glad he lived alone because waking up naked, jerking off and realizing she wasn’t there with him was just fucking weird. And slightly humiliating.

  But he smelled her perfume—or her soap or her scent or whateverthefuck it was all over him too. It was there when he buried his face in his pillow to go to sleep at night. And it was still there as he walked through Keller’s compound on the way to her cabin.

  This time, though, he almost felt watched. He had better than average night vision but if someone was tailing him in these woods, they were way more practiced than he was—and damned quiet too. It freaked him out a little but he pressed on, the need to see Siobhan greater than anything.

  When he approached the house, once again he saw the flash of a curtain, the peek of hair and wondered if that was Siobhan or her sister. He’d kept an ear to the ground about both of them—and Carter had too. Turned out there were rumors about the sister’s mental state—and most people were scared as fuck of both women.