The man who walked into the office did not remotely resemble the teen boy who’d just strolled through his memories. Adult Sixtus was slightly taller than Holden and corded with about thirty more pounds of muscle. His biceps were nearly bursting from his sleeves, and his pecs were clearly visible beneath the too-small black polo he wore, making the typically conservative style look like the prequel to a stripping routine in Magic Mike. He also wore khaki pants so tight his thighs looked like they were being strangled. He’d paired the two articles of clothing with scuffed motorcycle boots with steel toes.
Holden didn’t make an attempt to hide his slow ogle, and dragged his eyes from boots to crotch to clavicle before taking in Six’s face. His fathomless black eyes were the only familiar feature in that olive-skinned face. He had a full beard and mustache, thick black hair tied up in a bun, and wide lips that Holden wanted to suck on. Why did his sociopathic handler have to be a disgustingly sexy lumberjack hipster?
“Huh,” Holden said. “He’s filled out.”
Richard went back to pursing his lips, but Sixtus didn’t even blink. He didn’t scan Holden or react to the intense eye-fuck he’d just received. There seemed to be nothing behind those dark eyes. The effect was more disturbing when Holden, by default, reached out with his gift to get an impression. He’d expected a hint of impatience or irritation even if it was muted by the mental shield that was apparently always in place, but he felt nothing.
Theo Black had had a powerful mental shield, and Holden had been able to bypass it more often than not. Not with Six, though. All Holden received was a faint shock, as if he’d tried to touch Six’s mind and had been hit with a burst of static electricity.
Invulnerable indeed. This was going to be unnerving.
Holden’s irritation reared up again.
“Do you speak?” he asked. “Or are you just going to stand there and stare at me like a robot?”
Six looked at Richard. “Did you tell him?”
“I told him everything,” Richard said. “He’s not used to people not fawning all over him, so it may take him some getting used to.”
Heat flooded Holden’s face. His hands balled.
“Fine.” Six moved past Holden, shoulders brushing, and surveyed the wall of cameras. “This is outdated. There shouldn’t be more than one or two terminals that you can use to monitor every camera. Why didn’t you install one?”
It took a minute for Holden to realize Six was talking to him.
“Excuse me?”
“Why haven’t you updated your security system?”
“What— Wait. Excuse the hell out of me, but you don’t even greet your new employer before going into a criticism of his setup?”
Six finally turned, one of his thick dark brows arched. “‘Employer’? The Community is my employer. You own this nightclub, and that’s fine, but I don’t work for you.”
Holden looked from Six to his father, trying to figure out why he was surprised by this turn of events when it was exactly what he’d just deduced moments ago. Six wasn’t stepping into Chase’s shoes—he was taking over for both Chase and Beck.
“If you have a problem with my security system, I suggest you write up your critique and your suggestions for me to peruse at a later time. I’m not having this conversation here, now, or in front of him,” Holden said, flicking his fingers at his father. “And if you’re here as security, I’d also suggest you get down to the floor and observe my failure of a bouncer. Maybe you can step in for him since you’re an expert. Model what it means to be a good doorman and hope he can copy your technique.”
Six stared at him for a long moment, gaze not flickering and expression not shifting from the blank mask, before he inclined his head. “Fine. I’ll shadow him until he seems less like an incompetent piece of shit.”
Holden’s jaw dropped as Six once again brushed past him and strode out the door. He stared through the darkened doorway for several seconds before pointing at his father.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“It will be fine, Holden.”
“No. No, it won’t. He is insolent—”
“Insolent?” Richard barked out a laugh. “I just told you he doesn’t perceive emotions the way we do. He never learned to temper his speech and body language to make other people comfortable. He’s better than he used to be.”
“Well, that’s very special.” Holden couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I love a good heartwarming story about the wayward psy babies you’ve taken in. But unfortunately for you, this one isn’t going to work out. I won’t have some jackass from the Bronx talking down to me in my own club. Especially in front of my other employees. It creates a confusing chain of command and—”
“Holden,” his father snapped. “It’s a nightclub, not the government of a small country. If you can’t handle this, it’s no wonder you couldn’t handle the situation with Beck.”
Holden’s mouth shut with an audible click.
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “If your concern is that you won’t be able to control or seduce him, you should be worried. It won’t work. It’s part of the reason I chose him.” Richard turned his back on Holden and walked to the door. “I was wrong about what I said before. Your biggest weaknesses are your mouth, your lack of self-control, and your dick. You need one employee who won’t fall for your bullshit, and then maybe you can rise to your full potential and be the leader I know you can be.”
A thousand disrespectful responses flew to mind, but Holden knew when he could push, and every retort crossed a number of boundaries. Boundaries that would take him beyond the point of being Richard Payne’s sassy gay son to being . . . something else. The type of Community member who showed insubordination to upper-tier members, and who would benefit from a trip to the Farm for “realignment.” It’d happened to Holden a lot in his younger years, but for Richard Payne’s son to go there as an adult would be an embarrassment for them both. An unforgivable one.
The club filled quickly on Friday nights, and this one was no exception. They were packed by eleven o’clock with a healthy line snaking down the length of the building and toward Ninth Avenue. Once they reached capacity, it was time for the doorman to start cherry-picking people from the line. They went by regular customers and members of the Comm.
Stefen had always been a complete failure at this aspect of the job. He hated telling people no, even if it meant hearing a rant from Holden when the Comm folk wound up filling message boards with negative reviews because it took so long to get in. To Holden’s royal annoyance, Six was excellent at the job. He handpicked Evo regulars as if he could sense they belonged to the Community. It was impossible, but his precision was uncanny. Through the outdated monitor system, Holden had spent a couple of hours watching his new handler in action. He stood straight, shoulders thrown back and intimidating even in his preppy polo and khaki pants, and he looked at everyone in line as if they meant nothing to him. As if they were nothing until they got into the club.
Truth be told, it wasn’t that serious. Evolution had an air of exclusivity because they prioritized Comm members, but it’d gained traction with voids as well. The harder it was to get in, the more people showed up, and the more its reputation of being an extremely elite queer club spread. Stefen had briefly put a dent in the rumors of impenetrability, but it seemed like Six would be fixing that in no time. Likely because he, too, was impenetrable.
And what would it be like to penetrate someone like Six? A stoic man with a mental shield that prevented him from experiencing the world like everyone else. Had he ever walked into a funeral service and wept due to the stench of grief in the room? Laid a comforting hand on the shoulder of a friend in need? Understood that I’m fine usually meant the speaker was anything but? Had he ever felt the heat of someone else’s lust, or did he need a direct I want to fuck you to get a clue? Most people didn’t experience those things on the same level as an empath like Holden, but Six apparently even lacked the ability to pick up on cues that voids could feel.
Holden forced himself to stop staring at Six and leave his office.
The bass from the music assaulted him as soon as he was in the hallway. A throb started in his temple and spread. He brought down his mental shield firmly, not wanting to absorb any extra vibes and make the pain worse.
Holden respected Richard Payne for founding the Community, but interacting with him was nerve-racking. Holden usually spent the entire conversation waiting to be told what was wrong with him or how he’d most recently failed or let the Community down, while his stomach twisted and churned. The thing was, their relationship wasn’t out of the ordinary for the Community. As a whole, it valued ties to the organization more than biological family.
Holden’s mother had been different. If it wasn’t for Jessica Payne, he wouldn’t have known relationships with one’s parents could be anything other than tense and distant. Unfortunately, she’d long since gone to live on the Farm away from Richard, and Holden rarely saw her.
The VIP section was mostly void of customers, except for a couple already kissing in one of the alcoves. Holden made it to the spiral staircase leading to the lower floor without incident, but someone grabbed his upper arm as soon as he descended.
Even so many months after the night of Jericho’s murder, Holden’s heart caught in his throat. He froze, eyes widening and pulse racing, and was overcome with an instinct to yank away and run. But he didn’t. He took a deep breath, stared straight ahead, and reminded himself that Beck was gone, and Nate and Trent were in hiding. The night of the attack would never be repeated. There was no longer any danger here.
Evolution was safe.
“Holden?”
Holden cleared his throat, blinked away the lingering fear, and turned to face Elijah. Pasting on a smile, he tried to project calmness and authority. Waste of effort. Elijah had clearly been through better times and was unlikely to be worrying about Holden’s state of mind.
The Dreadnought drummer had always been petite, but he was now perilously thin. His brown skin was pale and circles lined his eyes. Instead of his usual ensemble of short shorts, boots or Chuck Taylors, and a cut-up T-shirt, he was swimming in a hooded sweatshirt and loose jeans.
“Elijah. I haven’t seen you in months.”
Elijah ran a hand through his hair, gaze sweeping left and right before focusing on Holden again. In the past, he’d have leaped into Holden’s arms or pulled him into a grope-y hug, but now he fidgeted with his sleeves and shifted from foot to foot. “Do you think we can go somewhere to talk?”
“I’ve been holed up in my office for too long as it is. Can it wait until I do my rounds?”
Elijah bit his lower lip.
“You’re welcome to do them with me.”
“Okay.”
The relief in Elijah’s face was concerning. Had he thought Holden would turn him away after all that had happened?
Frowning, Holden pulled the slighter man into a brief hug before leading him on a stroll of the club’s perimeter. The dance floor was already packed, the lounges full of people sharing bottles and laughing, and the new bartenders were handling the influx of customers with ease. The best thing in the world Holden had done was to invest in bartenders who’d actually studied mixology, instead of people who’d just worked behind a bar in college. Wait times were shorter and the tendency for bartenders to over-pour was nearly eliminated.
“The place looks different,” Elijah said quietly. “Did you tear down the stage?”
“Yes. After what happened . . .” Holden glanced at the space where the stage had once been. He’d had it removed and expanded the dance floor. “I guess I couldn’t bear having other bands come in. It was a constant memory of what had happened, and it frankly felt disrespectful.”
“I wouldn’t have felt that way. Neither would Taína or Lia.”
“I know, but after losing two out of five members of the band . . . it was just . . .” The confidence he’d been trying to project was steadily dissipating. “It was too hard.”
They paused at the edge of the dance floor, and Holden made a conscious effort to take the measure of the crowd who’d shown up tonight. There were very few unfamiliar faces. Six was somehow doing an amazing job of prioritizing Comm members. As Holden eyeballed a couple whose dancing was starting to border on public sex rather than raunchy grinding, Elijah snagged his hand.
“Thanks for not being weird to me.”
“Why would I be weird to you?”
“Because I went AWOL. The guy at the door almost refused to let me in. I had to name-drop you.”
Holden stopped grilling the couple to stare at Elijah. “Pardon?”
“He like . . . interrogated me about where I’ve been. I dunno. It was weird as fuck.”
A bolt of anger lit through Holden. He tightened his hand around Elijah’s, abandoned his rounds, and walked quickly in the direction of the patio. With the music only a soft hum on the other side of the door, and the gate lined with small white Christmas lights, it was almost cozy. A good escape from the bustle of the club, and one of the few places besides his office that he could go to think when he was overwhelmed by memories, or the evening, or life in general. Which happened far too much lately.
“The doorman is new. Started tonight and instated by my father.” Holden said that part through gritted teeth, swallowing bitterness at having to admit it to someone who’d once looked up to him. “He’s worked security for the Comm for years. I don’t know why he’d be grilling you about your whereabouts.”
Elijah curled up in one of the metal chairs, pulling his knees up beneath his chin. “If he’s a Community puppet, I get it. They’ve been trying to drag me to CW for counseling, but I’m really . . . not about that right now.”
“Understandable. Nothing remains confidential.” Holden sat on the edge of the chair opposite Elijah but leaned forward so he could keep his voice low. “Why’ve they been trying to pull you in?”
“I don’t know. But they’ve basically been stalking me. I was staying with Taína in Brooklyn, but Comm spooks kept knocking on the door and trying to give me an escort to the CW. She was getting freaked out, and I was too, after one of them mentioned realignment, which basically means going to the Farm to be talked at forever about why the Community is this amazing godsend for a poor bummy psy like me . . . blah.”
Holden slowly nodded and ran his eyes over Elijah. He was different. Everything from the way he held himself to his tone of voice was a far cry from the enthusiastic boy who’d volunteered at the CW and given testimonials about how the Community had saved him.
“I don’t remember you being this cynical,” Holden said.
“I didn’t use to be this cynical. I used to think the Comm was a godsend that would keep me and my people safe.” Elijah laughed dryly. “What a joke that turned out to be. They sent a predator to infiltrate an LGBT space because they didn’t care enough to vet her and make sure she wasn’t a threat. All they cared about was someone making sure Evolution wasn’t making too many waves. When it comes down to it, everyone is just out for themselves.”
“You mean my father is.”
Elijah met his eyes. “Yes. Sorry, but yes. If he cared more, he wouldn’t have sent a murderer. There’s no way no one knew she was twisted by resentment and hate. Maybe they knew, and they dropped her here to get rid of her? It’s not like we matter to them.”
“I see what you’re saying but . . .” But what? It was likely true. And yet Holden couldn’t help but defend his father. The Community. The people who’d allowed him to have this privileged life instead of growing up misunderstood and paranoid about his abilities like so many other young psys. “I just hope they learn from this experience even though it’s too late to make amends.”
“They can’t make amends, and they don’t even try.” Elijah dropped his feet with a thump. “Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I want to know where Chase is.”
“I don’t know, Elijah.”
“But you’re his brother.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean anyone tells me anything. As you said, my last name may be Payne, but my primary function is still just the owner of an LGBT space within the Community. I’m not privy to confidential—”
“Why is it confidential?” Elijah demanded. “Chase didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, he tried to get me out before any of that went down—”
“What?” Holden’s eyes narrowed. “When?”
Elijah’s gaze dropped. He pressed his hands together. “He’d been trying to convince me to get out of town since Theo died. Was killed.”
“How . . .” Holden pressed his fingers to his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Let me get this straight. My brother knew there was a danger in the club, a danger that put you at risk, and he didn’t say anything . . . to me?”
“He didn’t even explain himself to me,” Elijah said quickly. “He just kept stressing that he wanted me to leave before things got bad. When I asked him to explain, he . . . I don’t even know, Holden. It was so strange. It was like he literally couldn’t explain it to me. He’d start to say something, and he’d stammer and break into a sweat, before finally snarling at me to just trust him. Every single time.”
Holden’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t understand either, but there was definitely something he wanted to tell me and couldn’t. I’m betting it’s the same reason he didn’t tell you. And why . . . he instead found a way to get Nate here so he could pick up where Theo left off.”
The explanation was at once overly convoluted and the most straightforward theory that had come up so far. He’d wondered why Nate had shown up in New York, how he’d found out the things he had, and why Chase would have sent him visions instead of a brother in the same city. One he worked with and saw every day. But he’d never gotten answers to those questions, because Chase had never come back.
“Maybe Beck was exerting her control over him and preventing him from speaking?”
Elijah shook his head. “She would have killed him. There’s no way she knew that he knew about her. That’s why he kept putting on his asshole act so hard when Nate got here—to keep up the appearance that he was all on board with her. I just don’t know what was holding him back. And I don’t know how he knew what was coming when no other precogs saw it.”
Holden ran a hand through his hair. Only then did he realize it was trembling. “Talking about this makes me feel sick.”
“Same, but . . . I can’t stop. We need to find Chase. I just have this awful feeling that he’s in trouble.” Elijah rubbed his hands together before dragging them along the knees of his jeans. “I keep having these dreams . . . that he’s like . . . strapped down. And there’s this scary guy—”
Holden’s heart leaped. Images from his own dreams rushed back, and he clearly saw the man with the cat eyes.
“Does he have a tattooed band around—”
For the second time that evening, a door opened abruptly and interrupted Holden. This time, instead of Richard Payne, it was his puppet. Six.
Elijah automatically curled in on himself again, glaring up at Six from beneath his wild brown curls. Six stared back impassively before turning his attention to Holden.
“Stefen is following my lead. I’m going to assess your security and begin making preparations for upgrades.”
“No, you’re not. My security has been fine.”
“Given the disappearances you were unable to track with your surveillance system and the murder, I would say it’s a fucking failure.” The words were harsh, but there was no heat in them. Six didn’t even raise his voice. He said it matter-of-fact, as though it were a normal way to converse with other people. After a beat, he looked at Elijah. “You should be encouraging Comm members to check in at the CW. It’s what Richard expects.”
Elijah flipped him off without comment. Six didn’t react.
Holden frowned, looking between the two. “That expectation has never been made clear to me. I didn’t realize we were supposed to check in, and I was raised in the Comm.”
“Well, you’ve never been part of an investigation. Now you are.” Six jerked his chin at Elijah. “So is he. Get him to the CW, or I’ll make a call.”
Elijah tensed. Holden crossed his arms over his chest.
“Elijah, why don’t you let me and Six have a moment? I’ll find you in a bit.”
“Sounds great.”
Elijah shot Six one last glower before hurrying inside, likely out of the club and to the subway. Holden had forgotten to ask where he was staying now.
The door shut with a bang, but Six didn’t jump. He didn’t do anything. Just stood there in his skintight polo and khakis, looking both absolutely gorgeous and like a blank slate. His lack of expression was alarming.
“Do you understand that you’re being a fucking asshole?” Holden asked.
Six raised an eyebrow. “No? I’m just telling you facts. Richard expects Comm members to check in on the regular, especially members who are involved in an active investigation.”
“‘An active investigation,’” Holden repeated. “Meaning the investigation surrounding Beck.”
“Surrounding all of you.”
“Excuse me?”
“The board is looking into all of you. They want to know how the perpetrator was allowed to prey on Comm members in this club for months, and how the psys who run the place never noticed. You’ll probably get off easy because of your last name,” he said bluntly. “But the others? Maybe not.”
Holden’s eyes widened, and he took a step forward. “What the fuck are you talking about? They’re the ones who put her here! If my father, or the board, are investigating anyone, it should be themselves.” For the first time, a flicker of something crossed Six’s countenance. Interest? Intrigue? Holden had no idea, and he was too fired up to try to figure it out. “I have no idea why they’re trying to redirect the blame and find a scapegoat, but I won’t have you harassing my employees, my customers, or my friends. The next time you have a question, you ask me. Or I will kick your ass out of here regardless of what my father or the board has to say about it.”
“That won’t happen, but duly noted.”
Holden wanted to punch him. Punch him until he bled all over his goddamn beard. He didn’t know what was more infuriating—the dismissal or the calm tone it was said in. Richard had said Six didn’t perceive emotion the way others did, but did he even feel them?
Again, Holden reached out with his gift, but this time it was like a steel gate slamming shut on him. The connection was cut off violently.
“Don’t try to read me,” Six said. “It won’t work. And I can feel it. If you don’t want me fucking with your friends, you stay out of my head.”
“Oh? Does it bother you, Sixtus?”
“Yes. I frankly find you people creepy, and I’m glad I can keep you out.” Again with the brutal honesty in that flat tone. “Your father warned me you try to influence people with your gift, but rest assured—it won’t work with me. Don’t bother. You can’t affect my mood or my opinion, and you can’t seduce me with your little brain tricks.”
Holden forced a smirk that likely resembled a snarl. “So I can seduce you in other ways?”
“You’ll never find out if you keep relying on your empath shit, instead of the words and actions the rest of our species have utilized since we first evolved.” Six looked Holden over once, twice, then scoffed. “Put it to you like this: stay out of my head or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
“First you challenge me to seduce you and now you threaten me. Does my father know you’re this kinky?”
“Your father doesn’t know a lot about me.” Six turned to the door. “I’m going to fix your shitty security system. Don’t bother arguing. Your opinion is literally worthless.”
He was gone before Holden could get in a last word.