Lunatic, page 23
“So what?” she barked back, her face contorting. “So what? There are families in need. Good, Christian families who are desperate to adopt, but there are no babies anymore.”
“That’s bullshit, lady. There are thousands of kids out there who need homes,” Adam snapped.
She sneered. “Those kids are damaged goods. They have emotional baggage at best and grow up to be criminals at worst. It’s not like that with infants. If you raise them from this age, you can mold them into anything you like. And with enough white blood, you can hardly tell the mothers are…foreigners.”
“You’re disgusting. These are people,” Mac said. “Human beings.”
“That’s your opinion,” she said.
“Found him,” Avi called triumphantly from somewhere within the large structure.
Rapke was temporarily forgotten as Archer watched the twins drag her father between them. He struggled and sputtered, attempting to become dead weight. “Let me go! Let me go! I haven’t done anything!” the man shouted.
Avi lost his patience and hit him with the gun in his hand. The man’s nose exploded, blood painting the cement floor.
“Daddy!” Rapke cried, startling the infant in her arms.
The baby started to wail. Adam stepped forward. “Give her to me.”
She clung to the infant tighter. “No.”
Adam gave a long-suffering sigh, then pointed his gun at her father’s head. “Hand over the baby or watch your father’s brains become my next art installation. Your choice, lady.”
She clung to the infant until Asa grabbed the man’s head and Adam shoved the gun barrel directly into his mouth.
“Okay. Okay. Don’t hurt him,” she begged.
Adam holstered his gun, then gently took the baby, temporarily fascinated with the squirming creature in his arms. “She’s so tiny.”
August joined them from somewhere. “Where are the keys to unlock these doors?”
“How the fuck should I know?” she snapped, attempting to rush to her father’s side.
“I have bolt cutters in my bag,” Asa said. “We’ll free them when we’re finished.”
Avi kicked Braken in the stomach, smiling when the man grunted. “How exactly would you like to dispatch these two?”
“Dealer’s choice,” Mac muttered. “Just make it hurt.”
August shrugged. “I’ll leave it up to the twins.”
“I have some sturdy chains and a trailer hitch. I say we drag them.” Avi grinned. “A couple laps around the desert and I doubt there will be much left of them.”
“You can’t be serious?” the woman said, expression horrified. “Just shoot us.”
Avi hunkered down beside her, pressing his gun to her head. She closed her eyes, her chin wobbling. “No. You don’t get off that easy, princess. Letting you off easy would be sexist.”
She started to cry, then screamed as Avi dragged her off. It took Asa’s and August’s combined effort to get Braken outside. Archer and Mac didn’t follow. They searched until they found a crowbar then began to pry open the doors, freeing the people inside. They didn’t attempt to leave their cages, just eyed them warily.
Archer didn’t blame them. He watched as Adam very gently handed the baby to an older woman who took her without question. He met Archer’s gaze. “I’m going to go make the call.”
They did their best to communicate with the victims, letting them know help was coming. When they finally made it outside, Adam was mid-conversation. “What do you want us to do with the leftovers?” Adam asked Thomas, putting the phone on loudspeaker.
“Leftovers?” Mac muttered to Archer.
Adam gave him a look. “The bodies. Bury ‘em? Burn them like the others? We’re limited out here. But there’s a lot of wilderness. I just don’t want to get yelled at again.”
“You know, you don’t have to tell anybody you’re the baby,” Archer said.
“Bury them. Deep. Where they will never be found,” Thomas said. “It needs to look like they’re in the wind.”
“Got it,” Adam said.
“Calliope has already packaged the evidence for the right people. She’ll make sure it’s delivered to not only the feds but to the media outlets. Everybody will know what they did. It will just be too late.”
“We’ll message when we’re clear and you can send in the calvary,” Adam told Thomas.
“See you at home,” their father said, then disconnected.
“I’m going to go watch Avi live out his wildest fantasies,” Adam said. “You guys coming?”
“Yeah, no thanks. I just want to go home,” Archer muttered.
Adam looked around. “Go ahead.”
Archer blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
Adam looked at him like he was crazy. “I mean, go. We’ve got this. We don’t need six of us to dispatch these two.”
“Are you sure?” Mac asked.
“Jesus, it’s not a kidney. Consider it a belated wedding present. Get the fuck out of here.”
Archer looked to Mac, who shrugged. “Whatever you want to do, Katniss.”
Adam shook his head and wandered off.
Archer wrapped his arms around Mac. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Which home?” Mac asked, hugging him close.
“Our cozy military installation in the desert,” Archer answered. “We’ve got a shit ton of work to do.”
“Then let’s go home.”
They spent one last night at the Terlingua ghost house before taking off, leaving the keys with Noah, who promised to make sure the house was in order before they left. They’d skipped Thomas’s jet, opting instead for a first class flight, just because they could. Because they were safe. Well, safe from hitmen.
Not safe from paparazzi.
While there had been the occasional person taking pictures of them on the flight, the walk through the Vegas airport terminal was Mac’s first real taste of life as a Mulvaney. Archer had clasped their fingers together and plowed through the reporters, ignoring their questions as he dragged Mac along behind him.
“Where’d you go on your honeymoon?”
“Will you have another real wedding like your brothers?”
“How’s married life?”
“Where will you live?”
Once they’d gotten to the limo, Thomas had called and let them know the feds had infiltrated the compound and taken the people to a holding facility until their immigration status could be sorted. He had also mentioned they were going to move on Rapke’s charity, including the home for unwed mothers.
Mac had mixed feelings about all of it. They’d rescued those people from a life of slavery and who knew what else, but now, they were detained in a camp with conditions barely better than the stalls they’d found them in. All for what? To be dumped back in their country in worse shape than when they’d left?
“Stop thinking so hard,” Archer said. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
“I know,” Mac promised. “I do.”
Archer picked up Mac’s arm and slid beneath it, placing his head on his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. He’d done it that night in the parking lot of the strip club. It was a weirdly sweet gesture that sent a lightning bolt through Mac’s heart every time he did it.
“Are you happy?”
Archer froze. “What?”
Mac tried and failed to hide his smile. “Are you happy? Like, right now. Are you happy? With me? Like this?”
Archer relaxed after a moment. “Yeah. I’m happy.” He took Mac’s hand, running his fingertips along the back. “Are you? Happy? With me? Like this?”
Mac nodded, even though Archer wasn’t looking. “Yeah, Katniss. I’ve never been so happy.”
Archer did look up at him then, studying him. “Really?”
Mac smiled. “Yeah. Really.”
“Good,” Archer said, almost to himself.
Mac’s chest tightened unbearably and he couldn’t fight the sudden urge to drag Archer closer, slanting their mouths together until they were both a little breathless. “You know, Boone’s not expecting us back until tomorrow.”
“I’m listening…” Archer said.
Mac collapsed, half on and half off Archer, panting. “I don’t think I can go one more round,” he said.
Archer snorted. “I don’t know why you’re so winded. I did most of the work. My thighs are on fire.”
Mac laughed. Watching Archer ride him had been sexy as hell, but in the end, Mac had put him on his back so he could drive into him the way his body demanded. He just couldn’t help himself. There was nobody sexier in the world than Archer, especially when he was naked and begging.
“We should order room service. If we go out there, we’re going to get swarmed by reporters again,” Archer said, blindly swatting the table beside him.
Mac assumed he was looking for the room service menu but made no effort to help him. He was too cum drunk to move just yet.
Something hard hit him in the back of the head. “You missed a call from your mom.”
Mac took the phone, then set it far away from him. “I’ll call her later. I can’t talk to her while naked and covered in sex sweat. It’s weird.”
“So well mannered,” Archer teased. “I’d be happy if I could just get my brothers to stop answering the phone when they’re in the middle of sex.”
Mac huffed out a laugh. “She’s probably just calling to harass me about bringing you to visit or going to start nagging me about us having a real wedding.”
“Is that something you want?” Archer asked. “A real wedding?”
Mac lifted his head enough to look at Archer, unable to stop himself from dropping a kiss on his slightly parted lips. “Is that something you want?”
“Me?” Archer asked, giving it a moment’s thought before violently shaking his head. “No. A drunken Vegas wedding married by an Elvis impersonator is exactly the kind of wedding Archer Mulvaney would have.”
“You are Archer Mulvaney. Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”
Archer sighed. “Weddings are for other people. None of my brothers had giant elaborate weddings because it’s what they wanted—well, okay, Felix wanted the elaborate wedding. Noah wants an elaborate wedding. The rest of us? It’s all window dressing. The Archer Mulvaney the world knows gets drunk and marries a stranger. It fits.”
“But what about the real Archer? The one I actually married?” Mac prodded.
“Do I seem like the type for grand declarations?” Archer asked.
Mac smiled. “Yeah, a little bit. You did come barging into my room to tell me you liked me, and you did give me a pretty heartfelt speech that night we spent under the stars.”
Archer flushed. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up again.”
Mac laughed. “No, you agreed. I said no such thing. I love you, Katniss. I don’t care who knows it. You love me, too. That’s all that matters.”
“I do,” Archer said quietly, “love you…”
Mac sighed. He knew it wouldn’t always be like this. Archer was too stubborn. Too set in his ways. The next few months would be a trial in patience as they brought their parents’ project to life. But Mac couldn’t think of any person he’d rather spend his life fighting with than Archer.
“Thank you,” he said.
Archer tipped his head up to look at him. “For what?”
That was a loaded question. Where did he start? “For rescuing me. For saving my life. For loving me. For tying yourself to me forever.”
Archer smiled. “I’m pretty sure I tied myself to you when I agreed to go upstairs with you the first night we met.”
Mac shook his head. “See and you say you’re not one for grand declarations. I think you’re pretty romantic.”
“I think you should shut up and feed me before I die of embarrassment.”
Mac shook his head. The man who once punched a foreign dignitary off a boat got all shy over one compliment. How did he get so lucky?
“Your wish is my command, Katniss.”
“Ow, fuck, Katniss. Do you have to be so rough?”
“Listen, you’re the one who wanted me to do this. Hold still. It’s really deep in there,” Archer said between clenched teeth, doing his best to ignore the round of giggles that ensued.
“I’m very sorry, Instructor Mac,” the boy said, his Thai accent thick.
Mac gave the boy—Gift—a reassuring smile. “It was my own fault. I’m the one who handed you the crossbow without securing it first.”
The boy’s eyes went round and he shook his head violently, his dark hair falling over his eyes in a way that made him look even younger than he already did. “No. It was me. I’m very sorry. Please, forgive me.”
Archer watched Mac’s side profile as he gave the boy another reassuring smile, rolling his eyes in his mind. His husband was still a great big, bleeding heart and these kids knew it. They led him around by the nose. He shook his head, combing his fingers through Mac’s sweaty hair briefly before remembering the task at hand. Mac sighed happily.
Payton Skinner swooped in from behind, scooping Gift off his feet before falling backwards onto the thick gym cushions, holding the boy hostage in his lap. “It’s not your fault. Nobody should be handing baby a weapon.”
Dove Blessing—her real name—sat on the stacked mats behind Payton, leaning over him to run her fingers over Gift’s chubby cheeks, delighted when he puffed them out and she could squish them. The girl was one of the most dangerous people Archer had ever met up close, yet she squealed like a toddler playing with a puppy.
Archer rolled his eyes. They’d gone into this thinking they would be training vicious killers. Monstrous assassins that would need constant supervision to keep them from snapping and unleashing their murderous impulses on an unsuspecting world. Instead, they were running a pre-school with advanced military grade weapons and tactics.
Archer should have been doing this in the infirmary—no, the physician should have been doing this in the infirmary—but Boone had decided to turn it into a teaching moment. A trench medicine quick fix triage training session. And his husband’s big, dumb ass had agreed to it without batting a single ginger lash.
Which was how they came to be sitting in a semicircle, Mac’s pod of assassins and handlers watching as Archer carefully removed the steel arrowhead from the soft meat of his husband’s shoulder.
As far as injuries went, it was barely a scratch. Had it been one of the larger crossbows, Archer would be planning a funeral right now. And had it been any other student, Archer might have pulled the arrow from Mac and plunged it directly into their neck. But Gift was unlike the others, so much so the difference was startling. To everyone.
To the outside world, the Watch was simply a global think tank, a sort of postgraduate school for children of the elite—the one percenters and the children of diplomats, politicians, and other powerful people. But inside, it was very much a school. A school with only two possible tracks and the student’s path was chosen before they even knew they were eligible.
Molly and Thomas realized early into the creation of the curriculum that simply training psychopaths to be assassins wasn’t enough. They had to train the next generation of handlers to run those assassins. Finding those students had been far more work than anticipated and had fallen to both Boone and Mac.
Gift was training to be a handler. But, unlike the others, he hadn’t earned his spot. He wasn’t chosen based on rigorous course work, scores on diplomatic testing, or even something as mundane as GPA. No, Gift was there at the behest of one of Kendrick’s mandatory hires, Park Chen, who even now stood fuming in the doorway, glaring at Mac from a distance as if he was the one who’d shot Gift and not the other way around.
Archer had no idea what the history was between the two, but Park spent most of his day snarling like a junkyard dog at anybody who so much as looked at the boy as anything but a porcelain doll.
Archer had protested allowing the boy to enter the program louder than anybody. Just looking at the sweet-faced kid was enough to give him a toothache. It was like dropping a baby lamb into the center of ravenous wolves.
But Archer had been wrong. While the handler students and their charges all got along, they tended to stick with their own. But not Gift. He’d attracted the attention of the psychopaths like they were vampires and he had fairy blood.
Payton had taken one look at him and declared the boy his property, even forcing his roommate to switch rooms so that Gift could stay with him. They’d all worried there was something between the two—Park especially—but soon, they realized it wasn’t just Payton. It was all the neurodivergent students.
Gift was aptly named. The students were all drawn to him. They played with him and coddled him and protected him like he was a child and not a twenty-one-year-old grad student. What was more, Gift let them do it and reveled in it. But Archer knew better. There was far more to that boy than any of them truly knew. And that both worried and intrigued him.
Archer dropped the metal arrowhead into the tray with a clunk, then poured sterile water on the wound. “Staples or sutures?”
“Whatever lets me put my shirt back on faster,” Mac muttered, a fine coat of sweat glistening off his bare skin. It was only then that Archer truly noticed the stares of more than a few students hungrily taking in Mac’s half-naked form.
“Staples it is,” Archer muttered.
“You guys are so cute,” Dove said with a sigh, pushing her purple hair behind her ear. “Aren’t they so cute, Morgan?” she asked the girl to her left.
“Adorable,” Morgan said drolly, not looking up from her phone.
Boone cleared his throat, giving the girls that look that told them they were being inappropriate. Dove giggled then leaned into Payton’s space, whispering, “Daddy’s mad.”
Payton gave Boone a thirsty once-over that had the man adjusting his jacket. These kids had no respect. None. They were monsters.
As soon as the last staple was placed and Mac’s bandage fixed, Boone shooed them all off to afternoon classes, leaving the two of them alone in the gym. Archer dropped a kiss on the bandage. “Are you alright?” he asked.
