SEAN

Jett tells me as we approach a room, “You’ll be staying with Atlas, in Luke’s bed since he’s…away.” Atlas walks out, gives me a curt nod and silently exchanges a look with the President as Jett explains, “Someone brought your suitcase up already. Bathroom’s down the hall—it’s shared so bring your toothbrush with you, then bring it back.”

“Sounds good.”

Grey eyes narrow like he’s trying to figure me out. “My daughter is sharp. Very sharp. She’s seen things you can’t imagine. Has instincts like a trained assassin. If my Sofia said to give you a shot, then that’s why I’m taking this chance having you in my home, understand? Just in case you get any funny ideas, Atlas’s belt is so black it’s a wormhole to a universe of pain, get me? Tomorrow I want to see how you fight.” Heading off he raises his thick, leathery hand in a wave as I stare after him.

Atlas shuffles his feet and I glance over, see him waiting for me to enter his bedroom. “Luke’s on a mission,” he says like he’s lying. “We don’t know where he is because it’s confidential.”

Is this some sort of test? I met Luke. Don’t they know that? I bet Atlas is trying to see if I’ll give away a Cipher’s secret whereabouts—that telling him would be an example of breaking code. All of this sprints through my brain as I stroll in and decide the unmade bed will be mine for the duration of my stay. Lifting my suitcase on it I tug on the resistant zipper and offer no information, just a question. “You guys friends?”

“He’s my brother.”

My eyebrows rise as I scan Atlas. I should have guessed that. “How about Celia? She your sister?”

He makes a face like I’m crazy, sitting on his unmade bed in jeans and a faded black t-shirt, boots scarred with experiences I can’t wait to have. “Ceels? Nah, she’s like a sister, but no blood. Her mom is Carmen, Dad is Tonk Sr. Her brother is…”

We both say at the same time, “Tonk Jr.”

“Right,” he smirks. “That guy doesn’t come on missions.”

“Not surprised by that,” I mutter, taking out a leather satchel I’m using for toiletries.

Atlas points to it. “That’s cool. Where’d you get it?”

Removing the toothbrush and travel-sized toothpaste I answer, “It was my dad’s.”

“He give it to you?”

“My mom did. When he died.”

Atlas leans back on his hands, legs spread. “Oh man, that sucks. How’d he go?”

“Accident on the job. He was in construction. Word is he told the foreman they needed the rain to stop. Foreman was past schedule and over budget, so he told my dad to stop being a pansy and get out there. Steel beams are slippery even with regulation shoes. Dad slipped. One of his buddies tried to save him. Fell fifteen stories off a new building that’s still in Phoenix. They completed it without my father.” I start for the door, pause and look over. “That’s probably the most I’ve said to anybody about it since it happened.”

With respect in his voice, Atlas asks, “How long ago?”

“I was eleven, so sixteen years.” Heading for the bathroom I frown as I walk the carpet runner, hardwood on either side of it. The door opens before I touch the handle and Celia is standing in front of me, dark hair up in a bun, face freshly scrubbed, golden skin glowing almost as brightly as her warm brown eyes.

“Oh, Sean, hey.”

To keep her here with me a few seconds longer, I motion to the room. “So, is there some stuff I shouldn’t touch or…?”

She registers the question and flips around in a friendly way. “Here, let me show you.” We leave the door open as she explains, “This used to be just a bathtub. We had a shower installed in it. Or they did, Scratch and Mona. They’re not here anymore.”

“They pass away?” I ask, still thinking of my father.

Celia reacts, “What? No! They moved to Montana! We have a few houses. This one is the South’s home base.” She points to the long counter under an antique mirror clouded by time. I glance down to her breasts, can’t help but notice how her bra is gone and that cotton halter is old and flimsy. I can see the exact outline of her erect nipple. Instantly my brain pictures her naked. Can’t hear a word she says because my blood rushed down. Her voice has become a soundtrack to a porn scene unfolding in my mind. Door shutting. Her asking if I want a tour of her body next. Me planting her muscular ass on that old marble and going to work, making her writhe and buck and yield to me.

“Sean?”

Flying up to meet her eyes I lick my lips and cough. “I didn’t hear any of that.”

She stares at me, and then bursts out laughing. “Are you always this honest?”

“Pretty much,” I smile, relieved. “Sorry, I’m a man.”

Her forehead wrinkles on a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

Instantly my cock is wondering what she means. Is she as attracted to me as I am to her? “You thought I was a teenager, too?”

“The way Jett described you, yeah. Atlas and I talked about it last night. Neither of us expected you to be between our ages. He’s twenty-five, I’m thirty-one, almost thirty-two.”

Setting my satchel down I lean against the marble and cross my arms. “You planning on living here all your life?”

“Yes.”

“Most people don’t want to live with their parents that long.”

She pulls the circular shower curtain into place, smoothes the folds as she explains, “We don’t just live with our parents. We work together on jobs that we can’t share with the regular world. We train to fight. It’s a very communal, live/work existence, which might seem strange to some people but…we look out for each other in ways that you’ll come to find out, if you become a Cipher.” Celia gives me a lopsided smile, nude lips soft and mesmerizing. “Well, you can find your way around now. I’m going to bed.”

Quickly I blurt, “So when I shower in the morning…”

Will you join me?

She cocks an eyebrow, waiting for the rest. “Yes?”

I wish it was a yes.

“I didn’t bring shampoo, I just realized. Does everyone use the same bottles?”

Both hands fly up in stop gestures. “You’re not allowed to use our shampoo! You didn’t bring your own?”

My mouth goes slack. “Uh…”

Celia grins, takes a step closer and hits my chest with her knuckles. “Kidding! Use any of them. We get the supersize from Costco. It’s nothing special. Sometimes I buy the good conditioner but with all the long hair in this house it vanishes so quickly I just give up.”

“You know what the trick is?” Sage asks, poking her head in, long red hair hanging straight and shiny, body hidden by the wall. “Put a little regular lotion on it after it dries. Just a little on your hands, then smooth them over your head and bam, it’s as good as conditioned.” Darting a glance to my head she says, “You’d have to use very little since you’ve got short hair.”

Amused I argue, “It’s not that short.”

Celia tells Sage, “For a normal guy his hair is longer.” She reaches up and touches it, sending goosebumps down my neck. “See? Hanging a little over his ears here. And this part on top is very long.” Combing it with her fingers, she has no idea that I want her to do this forever. Her touch is something else. Especially since the girl is ripped. I would have thought she’d be rougher, but nope.

Shrugging, Sage smiles “It looks pretty short to me, Ceels. But he’s cute. You’re cute, Sean. We didn’t expect you to be cute.”

Watching my reaction, Celia laughs. In fact they’re both entertained and curious how I’ll handle their combined assault. Pheromones are flying. “Sage, I’ll be honest.”

Celia announces, “He’s brutally honest, so wait for this.”

Suppressing a grin I tell the redhead, “There is no way in hell I’m putting lotion on my hair.”

“You wearing that to bed?”

“No.”

“What are you wearing to bed?”

“I know a fish hook when it dangles in front of my mouth,” I smirk.

Celia walks out, “We’ll leave you to your business,” closing the door behind her while Sage bends to keep eye contact. The redhead gives a little wave right before the click.