Sam remained rapt as Micah relayed the events of the night. How he had gone to Ronan’s home, ready to kill him, only for his father to come back from the dead to announce that Micah and Ronan were half brothers.
Surprise! Happy family reunion!
To her credit, Sam seemed to keep up and not go into a shocked stupor the way he had.
Throughout the recap, Sam listened intently, nibbling peanut butter, not interrupting until he was finished. Then, all she said was, “Wow.”
Micah grinned. “Wow? I tell you my dad has come back from the dead and that I’ve got a brother, and the only word that comes to your mind is wow?”
She set down the peanut butter jar and pushed away from the counter. “What am I supposed to say?” She crossed the kitchen to the fridge. “What did you say when you found out?” She pulled out the carton of orange juice and snagged a glass from the cupboard.
He rose from the barstool. “I didn’t say anything. I could barely think. My head was too fucked up to think.” He entered the kitchen and smacked her ass as he passed her on his way to the fridge for a refreshment of his own. One that wasn’t orange juice and contained alcohol. “But thanks to you, I’m once again able to form complete sentences and coherent thoughts.”
“And . . .?” She filled her glass and handed him the carton as he opened the refrigerator.
“And what?” He returned the juice to the lower shelf on the door and pulled out a bottle of Corona.
He didn’t drink alcohol often, and he drank beer even less, so he was obviously still off-kilter.
She used her glass to gesture side to side, making the bright-orange liquid slosh this way and that. “Have you accepted that your dad’s still alive and you have a half brother . . . who happens to be a thief, by the way?”
“Um, no.” He twisted off the bottle cap and tossed it in the trash as he took a quick swig. “I haven’t accepted either, thank you very much.”
She laughed as she took her seat back on the barstool and waited for him to round the counter and sit beside her again. “Ah, come on, I heard how you talked about Ronan just now. You’re impressed with him. Admit it. He got into your home and evaded you, Trace, and Cordray for days until you finally tracked him down with Brak’s help. Deep down, that tickles you silly, especially because you know he’s family.”
Micah took a swig of his beer as he stuck his finger in the open jar of peanut butter that still sat on the counter and dragged out a dollop on his fingertip, which he promptly sucked into his mouth “Okay, I’m impressed. He’s got skills. I guess kick-assery runs in the family. But to learn my father has been alive all this time and didn’t tell me?” He shook his head. “That shit hurts, baby.” He took another sip of beer. “And I know there’s more. I can feel it.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea. I just know whatever it is, it’s big.”
“How do you know?” She sipped her juice.
He flashed her an are-you-kidding-me glance. “Call it my sixth sense. After all, I haven’t made it this far in life on my good looks alone.”
Just then, a wave of energy touched his mind. It was the same static-like fuzziness that had hit him earlier, in the bedroom, while Sam was sleeping. He had assumed it was her dreams, but he couldn’t use that excuse, anymore. Not with Sam sitting right beside him, wide awake. Something was trying to communicate with him. Or something invisible was in the apartment with them.
He stiffened, fell silent, and glanced around the apartment.
Sam set down her glass, immediately on alert. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He slowly placed his beer on the counter then stood. “We’re not alone.”
“What?” Sam leaped to her feet, her head turning this way and that as she peered into the shadows of the living room and down the hall to their bedroom.
“I felt it earlier,” he said, prowling toward the hall, keeping his senses open.
The subtle wave of energy weakened but didn’t disappear.
“What is it?” Sam crept up behind him.
Whatever was tapping his mind grew stronger.
“I don’t know.” He’d never experienced anything like this. There were no words to the thoughts. No direction. Just a haze of energy that ebbed and flowed, taunting him as if someone were playing a game.
“I swear to God, Cordray,” he said to the shadows in the hallway, “if that’s you and you found a way to fuck with my head, I don’t care if you are Trace’s mate. I’ll kick your ass.”
The swell of energy remained undiminished, growing stronger, almost like it had just awakened from a long sleep and was pulling the morning-stretch routine while considering its first cup of coffee.
Peeking into the bedroom, he reached behind him and gave Sam a gentle nudge. “Go back to the living room,” he whispered.
“No.”
“Sam, don’t argue with me on this. Go back to the living room. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
She sighed but relented, taking a step back as he pushed the bedroom door all the way open.
“Fine, but if I hear anything that sounds even remotely like war breaking out, I’m coming back in here.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Too bad.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m as protective of you as you are of me.”
Reluctantly, she retreated down the hall and disappeared around the corner, leaving him alone with whatever had been watching them.
He entered the bedroom and scanned the shadows. Nothing. No movement. No shadow figures. No foreign scents or sounds. Nothing felt out of place at all. Not in the bedroom, the walk-in closet, or the master bath.
But wait. The current he’d followed to the bedroom was gone. Well, not gone, but weaker, like it wasn’t with him, anymore.
He swung his head toward the hall.
Sam!
It had followed her!
Bolting from the bedroom, he rushed to the living room, expecting to find Sam in some kind of ghostly choke hold with an invisible demon. All he found was Sam pacing by the window, nibbling on her thumbnail.
Her whole body jerked as she spun and faced him. “What? What was it? Did you find it?”
What the hell was going on? The static-like sensation was stronger here. And with each foot he closed between him and Sam, the white noise in his head grew louder.
“Micah . . .?” She took a hesitant step forward.
“It’s you . . .” His gaze swept her from head to foot and back. “It’s coming from you.”
She froze, the whites of her eyes consuming the space between her eyelids. “What’s coming from me?”
“The noise.” He gave his head a tight shake, trying to quiet the murmur of energy caressing his mind. “Whatever is here, it’s coming from you.”
Sam swallowed so hard, he heard the gulp. “Am I okay? Am I sick? Is this something to do with Apostle’s venom? Like a delayed reaction or something? Oh, my God.” She looked down at herself.
The acidic scent of her fear made him want to take her in his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he knew what was wrong with her and where this strange anomaly was coming from.
“Micah . . .?”
“Ssshhh.” He circled her, scanning her systems. Had she been infected with some kind of parasite? A nanobot? Apostle had failed to kill her once before. Had he found a way to get to her that allowed him to go undetected. Had he hurt his precious Sam? So help him, if he had, Micah would spend the rest of his life hunting that fucker down and make him hurt, never killing him, always torturing, only to free him, give him a head start, and then continue the hunt.
“Micah . . .?” Sam whispered, her voice breaking as she trembled.
He shook free from his fantasy of vengeance and skimmed his palm over the back of her shoulders, trying to reassure her. “Try to stay calm, baby. I’m looking.” He continued circling her, searching, reaching out with his senses, letting his intuition guide him.
As he stepped back around to the front, he looked her up and down then zeroed in on her stomach.
The breath burst from his throat as his mouth fell open.
No.
It couldn’t possibly . . .
Could it?
“Micah . . .?” Sam’s fingers twisted tightly around one another, and he could hear her pulse pounding hard and fast. “You need to talk to me here, because I’m really starting to freak the hell out.”
“Ssshhh.” He knelt in front of her, placed his hand on her belly, closed his eyes . . .
And smiled.