Lunatic, page 6
“No reason,” Archer muttered. He’d already said way too much.
“Did you meet someone?” Noah asked, practically salivating through the phone.
“No.”
“Oh, my God. You did. You totally did. Who is he? Do I know him? Does Dad know? This is amazing. Wait—” Why Archer had to wait, he didn’t know. Noah was having this conversation with himself. “Does this guy know about your little problem?”
Archer’s brows knitted together. “That I kill people? He knows.”
Noah snorted. “That you once drank an entire battalion under the table during fleet week, then ended up with alcohol poisoning that took you out for days?”
Oh, yeah. That. None of that had happened. He’d been in DC at a ridiculously boring private meeting regarding Project Watchtower. But he couldn’t tell his brothers that so he’d…embellished. “Not a problem.”
“He’s not an alcoholic, too, is he? Because that can’t possibly be healthy. Like, I think you have to have, like, two separate but equally fucked-up bad habits. Like, maybe he has a weird vomit fetish. That would be helpful in your case.”
“I’m sorry I even brought this up,” Archer muttered.
“No, wait. I’m sorry. Okay, so if he doesn’t have a problem with the drinking and he likes you and he knows that you like killing people, what’s the problem?”
“He’s just so…infuriating.”
“Ohhh…tell me more,” Noah said, like he was settling in with popcorn.
There was no way he was spilling any of his inner thoughts to Noah. He was a blabbermouth and the rest of the family would know immediately. “He just comes in and takes charge and thinks he knows everything and is entitled to everything, and he just struts around looking like sex on a fucking stick for literally no reason at all.”
“Wow. Yeah, you’re fucked. You really like him.”
“I said he’s entitled and infuriating.”
“Listen, if Lucas or Jericho had said that, whatever. But for you, this is practically a love letter. When has any person ever had any kind of profound effect on you? Ever? Name one. I’ll wait.”
Archer opened his mouth and shut it again, then blew out a breath through his nose like a bull. It was so similar to what Mac had said to him that night in the bar.
“None of these boys will hold your interest. You only play with them because they’re forgettable.”
Archer had given him a once-over and a dismissive smile. “Make no mistake. I’ll forget you, too, darling.”
Mac had pressed against him, lips against his ear. “Come to my room and let me prove you wrong.”
And he had. All night. It was the first time Archer had ever bottomed, ever let go of control. Ever just let someone use him. And he’d fucking loved every minute of it—had made no fucking secret of it. And now, Mac knew. Mac knew just how easy it was to make him yield. And it wasn’t that Archer didn’t want to give in. He did. Every fucking time. So badly it ached.
But giving up that control in the bedroom made it hard to keep the mask in place. Mac already knew way too fucking much about him and that was dangerous. Not because of his heart. He didn’t understand love or empathy or any of that shit, but knowledge was power and Mac had all the power between them.
“It’s already gone too far. I need to break it off. He knows too much about me. About us. It’s dangerous.”
“What do you know about him?”
Archer stopped in his tracks once more. He knew he was a vet. That he was a photographer—one who loved taking pictures of Archer in compromising positions. Which should have bothered him more than it did. He had an identical twin brother who was a sociopath. But other than that…Archer didn’t know anything at all.
“Hello?”
“This is ridiculous,” Archer muttered.
“You could just, you know, get to know him? Like, go on a date? Ask him about himself?”
“That’s not something I’m capable of. A relationship between us would be impossible.”
“Why? Is he a cop? That didn’t stop August. Hell, if anything, it was a challenge.”
“Are you telling me I should take life lessons from August?” Archer asked.
“Well, you could. He might be the most bloodthirsty of all of you. But he’s also the most stable. August has his proverbial shit together. And, honestly, you should, too. Like, drinking yourself into a coma every night at your age is kind of sad.”
“I’m not that much older than Adam, you little shit,” Archer snapped before remembering that family Archer didn’t give a shit about any of this.
“Listen,” Noah said, using that voice he saved for psychopathic temper tantrums. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to give the guy a chance.” There was a pause, then he said, “Unless this guy would, like, potentially kill you or something, which, honestly, in this family isn’t exactly a deal breaker.”
Archer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Thank you. This has not been at all helpful.”
“Just remember, you need someone whose crazy is the opposite of yours. I’ll tell Dad that you’re officially debriefed.”
“Yeah, okay,” Archer managed, disconnecting before Noah could say goodbye.
Did Mac counterbalance him? Not on the surface. On the surface, Archer projected this devil-may-care attitude. He was a drunk, a gambler who played fast and loose with Daddy’s money. But that had never been who Archer was.
In reality, he was his father’s most trusted advisor. The one who knew all his father’s government dealings. He spent most of his life looking for literally anything that might thrill him. Or interest him even a little. He wasn’t crazy at all. Just bored. So fucking bored. The only true thrill he got was from killing.
And from Mac.
Christ.
Before he could stop himself, he was heading back down the hall to Mac’s room. When he was at his door, Archer took a deep breath and let it out, steeling himself for the mission at hand. He raised his fist and knocked…hard. Too hard. Aggressively hard. Mac snatched the door open, gun in hand, blinking in surprise when he saw Archer standing at his door.
Again.
Mac lowered his gun. “I thought you had a thing?” he said, his confusion obvious.
“I did. I did the thing,” Archer said, pushing his way into Mac’s room.
Mac watched him walk past then shut the door, observing him with the same trepidation one might give a wild animal that had just appeared out of nowhere. “Oh, okay, then.”
Archer sat down on the corner of Mac’s bed, trying to ignore the weird pit in his stomach. “You need to let me help you figure out who’s after you.”
Mac rolled his eyes. “You’re so goddamn stubborn. Just tell your dad that I’ve accepted your help. It’s not that hard. You lie all the time.”
“I can’t do that.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I…like you?”
Mac’s brows ran for his hairline, his golden eyes wide. “You do?”
Archer gave a heavy sigh. He had no idea if this was what Noah had in mind or if Mac’s crazy matched his or if he just really liked the way Mac fucked him, but he knew that Mac was the only thing in his entire life that had ever mattered. He actually cared if Mac died and he couldn’t say the same about anybody else who didn’t share his last name.
Still, he wanted to be honest. “Yeah. But I really don’t like that I like you.”
It felt good knowing he didn’t have to lie to Mac. He knew all his darkest secrets.
“Okay. I feel like there’s a lot to unpack here, Katniss. What’s going on?”
“See. That. I don’t like that you know how to get under my skin. You call me Katniss because you know it bothers me. But now, it doesn’t bother me. Now, I like it. And that bothers me.”
Mac opened his mouth and then closed it again. “I—So, you don’t want me to call you Katniss or you do?”
Archer gave him a look like he was stupid. “I do. Keep up.”
“I’m really trying,” Mac assured him.
Archer couldn’t seem to stop himself from word-vomiting all over Mac. “I also don’t like that you take pictures of me without my permission.”
“I’m…sorry?” Mac said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his tone, his cheeks turning cherry red. “I’ll delete them.”
Archer gave a single nod. “I do like the sex.”
The grin that spread across Mac’s face was near feral. “Oh, I know, Katniss.”
A shiver rolled along Archer’s spine, turning to goosebumps as Mac kneeled between his knees. Archer’s hand reached out for him without thought, pushing through the shock of red hair. “You can’t just…use your superpowers to bully me into things when we’re in public, though.”
“My what?” Mac asked, amused.
Archer’s insides twisted. He shook his head, trying to find the right words. “You do this thing where you look at me and I just…give you whatever you want. You can’t do that when we’re in public.”
“But I can in private?” Mac asked, hands settling on Archer’s thighs.
“Yeah, obviously,” Archer muttered.
Mac sighed, meeting Archer’s gaze. “Where is all of this coming from? Is this a very twisted, roundabout way of getting me to let you help figure out my hired killer problem?”
“It’s coming from my stupid brother-in-law, who says I need to find someone whose crazy matches mine. Except, I’m not crazy. I’m just a psychopath with a secret life.”
“Well, I’m not crazy either. And I know all about handling psychopaths. It’s why they hired me. It’s why they hired you, too,” Mac reminded him.
“No, they hired me because someone needs to be calculating in how we choose our targets and you have a bleeding heart the size of your dick. But that’s why we need some ground rules. Because when you want something…I want to be the one to give it to you.”
Mac’s mouth opened and closed again. “Yeah, you’re definitely a psychopath.”
“Was that in question?” Archer asked, frowning at Mac.
“No, but I forget sometimes because you’re so fucking…responsive. Like, when I want something, you just give in so easily. It’s addictive, but I forget that it doesn’t come from a place of emotion, just…pleasure.”
Archer frowned. “I have emotions. Maybe not all of them but some. And I know that you make me feel…something. Even without the sex.”
“You’re giving me whiplash today, Katniss.”
Archer got where Mac was coming from. None of this made any sense. And any other person would have gone running for the hills. But Mac truly was the psychopath whisperer second only to possibly Noah. Maybe this would send Mac running. It might save them both some trouble.
Archer leaned back on his hands. “We’re going to be working together. Every day for the foreseeable future.” When he wasn’t running home to keep his cover. “I would just rather we both be on the same page.”
“I’m not even sure we’re reading the same book here, Katniss. Just…tell me what you want.”
“You. I just…want you.”
“I wish you could say that without looking like you swallowed barbed wire,” Mac confessed.
Archer shook his head, searching for the words to make sense of what he was feeling. “Have you ever seen videos where blind people see for the first time after a corneal transplant or a deaf person gets a cochlear implant?”
Creases formed in Mac’s forehead. “Yes?”
Archer took Mac’s hand, playing with his fingers, refusing to look at him. “When they remove the bandages or turn on the implant for the first time, there’s this shock, this pain response to the stimuli. They flinch away from the light or the sound because it’s overwhelming to them, because it’s new and unfamiliar and it hurts. That’s what this feels like. You make me…flinch. Because having feelings—any feelings—for another human being is completely new.”
Mac gripped Archer’s chin, forcing his gaze to his. “What do you need from me, Katniss?”
“A date.”
Once more, Mac blinked at him. “What?”
Archer steeled himself. “I need you to go on a date with me.”
“You just gave me a third-act speech about feelings so that you could ask me on a date?”
Archer could feel his insides withering as he realized Mac was right. Christ. If this was what having feelings for someone was like, he was canceling his subscription. Still, he couldn’t deny it now. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”
Mac leaned into his space, giving him a chaste kiss that lingered. “Yes, I will go on a date with you. But I’m paying. And picking the place.”
Archer rolled his eyes. “You’re a control freak.”
Mac gave him another kiss. “I blame my unresolved childhood trauma.”
By the time the meeting ended, they had several names on the board. Kendrick had handpicked each one in exchange for allowing the Elite team to choose the rest. They were all Boone’s former colleagues—assassins turned handlers—with their code names listed above their photos.
Mac was dying to know the stories behind these handles. Boone was the Sin Eater, but alongside him sat the Bone Collector, the Grave Robber, the Whipping Boy, the Plague Doctor, the Resurrectionist, and the Witch Hunter. All terrible jobs tied to history, for sure, but how had each of them been assigned their names?
Boone had decided to keep the tradition alive—something both Molly and Thomas would have approved of—by giving their new employees similar code names. Neera Adebayo, the school’s new public relations specialist, was known as Fuller. Mac had to look up what a fuller was. They were in charge of dirty laundry. Boone clearly fancied himself a comedian.
Neera would keep the eye of the public where it needed to be—off their students—by any means necessary. Mac was glad to have her. There were several others who’d been brought in. People with jobs one might not expect in a school for assassins.
A drama coach, a makeup artist, a costume designer, even a dancing instructor. All had to be thoroughly vetted before they could be brought on board. Signing on at the Watch was essentially signing your life away. There were many things that went into making sure these public figures could be seen when needed but also hide in plain sight when necessary. Things that spies and assassins just couldn’t do.
“I think this is a good place to stop for the day,” Boone finally said a little after six. “Let’s pick this up again tomorrow?”
Archer and Mac both nodded. Boone snagged his phone from the conference table and left them without so much as a goodbye. That was fine with Mac. He walked to where Archer still sprawled in his office chair before sitting on the table and using his legs to turn him to face him. Archer raised a brow but didn’t attempt to flee, which was a step in the right direction as far as Mac was concerned.
He pulled the chair towards him, then leaned down into Archer’s space. “When are you taking me on this date, Katniss?”
Mac was still reeling a bit from Archer’s flushed and rambling speech a few hours ago. It had been raw and real and so very Archer that Mac was pretty sure he’d fallen a bit in love. Or maybe he was already there and that had just sealed it. Mac never liked to examine these types of things too closely. All that mattered was that Archer had let him in, even if it was just a crack. If you punched enough cracks into even the most solid surfaces, eventually they gave way.
Archer flushed once again, like he was embarrassed about Mac bringing it up. “I can’t tonight, but maybe tomorrow.”
“You have plans for tonight? Should I be jealous?” Mac asked, trying to keep his tone casual when he was already pre-emptively jealous.
Archer smirked at him, like he sensed Mac’s true feelings. “Yes, I’m meeting six men in a dark, smoky room so they can give me all their money.”
Mac blinked at him. “What?”
Archer rolled his eyes. “I’m working. I have a poker game that starts at nine. Off the strip. High rollers.”
“You promised me this morning that you would meet me tonight and that you would be…friendly. Were you lying to me, Katniss?” Mac asked, voice husky.
Archer shook his head. “No. But that wasn’t a date, was it? That was a hookup. We haven’t spent more than an hour together with our clothes off since we met. I assumed I’d have time for both activities. But a date requires more planning.”
Oh. Right.
Mac was an idiot. One heartfelt speech and his brain slid onto the floor. Still, Archer was wrong. A date didn’t require more planning, just more time. “I’m coming with you. Watching your game can be our first date.”
Archer scoffed. “No, you’re most definitely not coming.”
Mac frowned. Why didn’t Archer want him to see him play poker? “Yes, I definitely am.”
Archer stood, planting his hands on either side of Mac and leaning in until they were millimeters apart. “There are men out there trying to kill you. No. You’re. Not.”
Mac locked his hands around Archer’s wrists, brushing their lips together. “You just said it’s six guys in a dark room. Do you think they’ll know who the fuck I am?”
Archer slanted their lips together in a much longer kiss before saying, “There will be cameras. Did you forget that you have a brother who looks just like you who’s married to a famous movie star? People are going to notice.”
Mac ducked Archer’s next kiss to bite along his jawline. “Is it live?”
Archer sucked in a breath when Mac nuzzled that spot just under his ear, faltering a bit. “Well, no. But it will eventually be televised.”
Mac ran his tongue along the shell of Archer’s ear. “And we’ll be long gone by then, safe back here in our cozy top secret military base.”
“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” Archer said, even as he tilted his head to get more of Mac’s attention where he wanted it.
“I know you are, but what am I?” Mac taunted, but then locked his legs around Archer, holding him tight as he pulled back to look at him. “Come on, Katniss. Let me see you how the rest of the world does.”
