Darling
All things considered, Jake thought the situation actually went pretty well. Realistically, he wouldn’t have had the wiggle room to be shocked if she’d come at him with a knife.
When Jake came to, he thought he was about to lose his feet to frostbite. He sprang up suddenly, practically launching himself out of the bath, sending ice and water flying everywhere. A string of curses fell from his lips, the Spanish syllables rolling off his tongue like the water that now covered every inch of him.
Zara Fathi stood completely still, staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze, those honey eyes fixed on him, dripping wet in the middle of the living room. Waiting for him to make a move, no doubt. Their gazes locked, scanning each other for a long, strange moment.
“Are you gonna say something?” Marc hissed in his head, almost startling him.
“Jake, mate,” Steven’s voice came through. “You’re freaking her out.”
Their voices ricocheted through his head, and Jake tried not to flinch. It was gonna take some time to get used to that.
Zara tilted her chin, scanning him like a specimen under a microscope. Jake saw her rigidity – every muscle in her body taut as a wire, ready to snap into action at a moment’s notice. What a good thing, then, that he was so good at diplomacy.
Jake’s face split into a grin. “Did you miss me, viuda?”
Zara raised a dark eyebrow. Her face had smoothed over, not a whisper of the shock he’d previously seen, her voice flat as a tack. “I thought I told you not to call me that.”
“What would you prefer, then?” Jake chuckled. “Princesa?”
Zara narrowed her eyes at him, but he saw her shoulders relax slightly. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Seriously?” Marc’s voice came through again, bouncing around his head like a pinball. “She’s known you for two seconds.”
“Right,” Steven interrupted internally. “Because the way you talked to her when you first met worked so well. At least Jake’s not being an outright ass.”
Marc huffed an almost-laugh. “Maybe not an outright ass – ”
“So,” Jake started, his fingers interlocking behind his back. He rocked forward on his feet. “The boys and I had a little talk, and we’re good now.” Zara eyed him warily, and he spread his hands. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“Why not?”
That caught him by surprise. Jake looked at her quizzically, and Zara peered at him. He frowned. “¿Qué?”
“You know why I’m asking.” She stepped forward. “Why aren’t you going to hurt me?”
Zara was watching him, her jaw working like she was biting back words. Her gaze pierced him like a blade, and Jake knew he should be intimidated. Good thing he lacked the capability.
“You said it yourself. I’m here to protect them.” He answered, taking a wary step forward. When she didn’t budge, he continued, tapping his nose. “Very perceptive.”
It was strange, to not be able to read another person.
Zara suddenly turned on her heel, and Jake blinked in surprise. The black widow shook her head as she reached the kitchen, swinging the cupboard open. “I need a drink.”
Jake swiped the towel off the floor, drying himself as he followed her. “I’ll take your finest.”
She turned back to him, raising a depressing-looking glass bottle. “Your options are vodka or vodka.”
“That all Mother Russia supplied you?” Jake queried, throwing her a smirk. “Cheapskates.”
He plonked himself down on a bar stool, and she raised both brows, a tilt to her head. “You’re getting water everywhere, you know?”
Jake chuckled. “Get the Red Room to send me my bill.”
“Ha!” Zara barked, and he felt a strange stab of…was that pride? She poured out one drink, and then the other, sliding him a glass. “You know, I’m not actually Russian.”
“Mother…Egypt, then?” Jake shook his head. “Just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” He took a swig, balking at the taste. “Eugh.” He screwed up his nose. “Like drinking distilled gasolina.”
Zara snorted, sipping the clear liquid. “I thought Chicagoans were supposed to be tough.”
“That’s Marc’s thing.” Jake raised his hands. “I don’t claim it.”
Marc grumbled in his head. “Always with the slander.”
“At least they’re getting along,” Steven chirped. “Even if it is to take the piss out of you.”
Were they always going to be so loud in his head? Marc and Steven continued their back-and-forth, and Jake couldn’t decide whether it was annoying, or strangely comforting. Maybe both.
“So,” Jake began, twirling the half-full glass in his hand. “The viuda trying to kill us turned out to be your mejor amiga. What a turn of events, eh?”
“She’s – ” Zara started, then frowned. “Huh. I guess she is my best friend.” She leaned forward suddenly, jabbing a finger at him. “Which means she is off limits for your murdering bullshit. Understand?”
For the first time since he’d woken up, Jake felt truly thrown off balance. He blinked at her. “That’s not very nice, cariño.”
It was her turn to be surprised – the updated nickname throwing her for a second – but Zara ignored it, her face giving nothing away. Her voice was low. “Do. You. Understand?”
Jake threw a hand to his chest. “You don’t trust me, cariño?”
“You know I don’t, Mudak.”
Zara was still leaning over the counter, and Jake could swear he saw flames flicker behind her hazel eyes. It was a little scary. He liked it.
She narrowed her gaze. “I mean it. I need to know that you won’t go after Yelena.”
“All right, all right.” Jake leant back, drawing an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Good.” She straightened. “Now that that’s out of the way, has Marc figured out who wants to kill him yet?”
Jake cocked his head, and he heard Marc’s defeated sigh. “Narrowed it down to about a hundred people.”
Zara watched him expectantly, and Jake merely shrugged. “No shortage of potentials.”
Zara sighed. She swiped the glass off the counter, throwing it back with surprising force. Jake merely watched her in amusement, and her eyes flicked to the glass in his hand. “Not going to finish yours?”
Jake slid the glass back across the counter. “Thought I’d leave it for you, cariño.” He flashed her his best shit-eating grin. “Seems like you need it.”
“Well I did just pull your asses back from the brink of death, so, yeah.” Zara snatched up his glass, shotting the last of the disgusting spirit down. “I’d say I’ve earned it.”
Jake merely watched as she paced the kitchen, leaning forward on folded arms. As if on cue, Jake heard a buzz, and she pulled her phone from her pocket. Zara ran her hands through her dark hair, tugging a little on the strands as she stared at the screen. An elongated groan left her lips. “Great timing.”
Jake furrowed his brows, and she glanced back at him. “Yelena’s employer is pushing for her to confirm the kill – which, obviously, she can’t.” Zara bit her lip. “We can’t stay here. We’re out of time.”
Oh, I think we have all the time in the world. The all-too-familiar voice boomed around them and Jake instantly whipped around, to see Khonshu leaning against the wall behind them. Jake Lockley. Explain yourself.
Jake froze, the sharp intake of Zara’s breath behind him the only sound in the now deadly silent room. Marc’s rage coiled inside him, a viper ready to strike. His voice was a hiss. “That son of a bitch.”
Khonshu bristled, and Jake knew he’d heard Marc’s voice in his head. Another change he wasn’t yet used to. Jake inclined his chin. “Nothing to explain, amigo. We just came to a little agreement.”
You have exposed your identity, and our operation. Khonshu shifted, resting his mummified hands on his staff. This was not part of our deal.
“Deal’s off, you stupid pigeon,” Steven asserted in his head, and Jake bit back a grin. “Should’ve read the terms and conditions.”
If Khonshu didn’t like what Marc had to say, he was even more disgusted at Steven’s input, practically balking at his words. Jake cut in. “We aren’t hiding from them anymore, Khonshu.”
Bold of you to assume you have a choice, Jake Lockley. Khonshu straightened, growing ever larger. I did not offer you this deal so you could disobey me.
“The deal was that I work for you so that Marc doesn’t have to,” Jake reminded him. “But mis hermanos don’t like being left in the dark. You told me I was protecting them.” Jake gritted his teeth, biting down on the swell of rage rising in his throat. “You lied.”
Steven let out a wry laugh, the noise bouncing around inside his head. “Yeah, he likes doing that.”
Khonshu phased forward suddenly, looming over Jake. You tell that worm to sit in silence, or –
“Hey,” Zara suddenly cut in, rounding the kitchen bench to stand next to him. She glared up at the god. “Leave. Steven. Alone.”
Khonshu watched her for a moment, and Jake felt Marc try to surge forward, instinctively moving to take the body, to protect them both. But this was Jake’s fight. He wasn’t going to let another thing fall to Marc, not after everything.
Khonshu inclined his head at her. I find it…interesting, that all of our problems began to occur the moment you stepped in.
Zara laughed, the sound short and sharp. “You’re right, it was me. Definitely not the fact that you took advantage of the people that you appointed as your avatars.”
You insolent –
“Again, with the deflecting,” Zara tutted. She stepped forward so that she was between him and Khonshu, and Jake had to set his jaw to keep it from hanging open. “It’s not very mature of you.”
Khonshu slammed his staff on the ground, but neither Zara nor Jake even flinched. I will not stand for this. You will respect me, or –
Or? The crackling voice suddenly came from behind them, the temperature of the chilly London apartment hiking upwards in a flash. Sekhmet appeared behind Zara, her golden eyes fixed on the god of the moon. Were you about to threaten my avatar, Khonshu?
Khonshu went completely silent, and Jake felt a stab of triumph. Finally, the old bird was the one sweating, for once. Zara and Jake glanced between the two gods, the air simmering with such raw power he thought it might blow off the roof. He took her in in flashes – her tall, lithe stature, her great lioness head, her shimmering golden eyes. Looking for too long was like trying to stare at the sun, if the sun was a pissed off goddess of war.
Even Steven was silent in his head, which was saying something. It was the first time, Jake realised, that his hermanito had actually shut up since they’d woken up. But now that both he and Marc were deadly silent, it felt just like it always had before. So why didn’t it feel right anymore?
Jake shattered his own reverie, clucking his tongue. “You bound us to you for life, Khonshu. Which means you take all of us, as we are.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or you don’t take us at all.”
The god was completely silent, the heat of Sekhmet filling the room with a flickering electricity. When the silence bordered on unbearable he finally spoke, his voice gravelly. Fine. I accept this new deal.
“And isn’t that what we like to hear, eh?” Jake’s face split into a grin. Khonshu bristled, but didn’t speak. Jake inclined his head. “Pleasure doing business with you, amigo.”
The god merely shook his skull, letting out an elongated groan. Idiots.
And then he disappeared into thin air.
* * *
Jake loved airplanes. He loved being in the air, the rush of take-off and landing, feeling his ears pop as they climbed into the sky. He’d practically dashed for the window seat as soon as they’d boarded, and to his genuine surprise, Zara had let him have it. The only part he didn’t like was being stuck in his little seat, unable to get up and move around.
They’d been in the air for hours now, and he kept secretly hoping they’d hit some turbulence again, just so he’d have something to do. Absently he noticed Zara’s hands, white-knuckle gripping the arms of her chair, her nails digging into the material like claws. Jake nudged her, raising a quizzical brow. “Not a fan of planes?”
She exhaled, gripping the seat harder. “Not a fan of anything floating thousands of metres above the ground.”
Jake frowned. “You fought off two jackals on your own, but you’re afraid of planes?”
“They just make me tense, okay?” Zara snapped, and Jake blinked at her. She sighed. “And that flight over from New York didn’t help. There was a screaming baby behind me the whole time.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about this flight, cariño,” Jake leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m here to protect you.”
Zara shot him a withering glare, and he bit back a laugh. Her voice was a hiss. “Mudak.”
Jake released the chuckle he’d been holding in. “You know I don’t know what that means.”
Zara cocked her head. “I’m sure you can guess.”
“Hmm.” Jake tapped his chin, throwing her a sideways glance. “I’m guessing…the same thing as cariño?”
Zara glanced away, but he caught the way her lips curved upward. “Sure.”
The next half hour passed in silence, and Zara seemed fully intent on staying as rigid as possible the entire flight. The black widow had closed her eyes, but Jake didn’t miss the way her breath caught every time there was a bump, the way her knuckles whitened as she tightened her death-grip on the arms of her chair. For the first time, it occurred to him how hard it must be for someone to carry all their fears with them, all of the time.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Zara murmured through gritted teeth, her eyes staying closed.
Well, she got him. Jake sighed. “What’s in Cairo?”
“I told you,” Zara muttered, her nose crinkling slightly. “We couldn’t stay in London anymore. They knew Marc was there. It would’ve been a matter of time.”
“Si, I know. But that doesn’t answer my question.” He leaned in again, lowering his voice. “What’s in Cairo?”
Zara sighed. “Well, it’s probably not somewhere they’d think to look for an American, for one. Probably would’ve assumed he was still in the UK, or went home.”
Marc Spector, going home. Sure. The last time that happened had made the top five for the worst days of his alter’s life, and that was saying something. Jake doubted Marc would ever set foot in Chicago again.
“And the other reason?”
She hesitated for a moment, then waved a hand. “I know Cairo. I can keep you three safe there.”
“Because it’s your home.”
It wasn’t a question. Zara’s eyes flew open then, their gazes locking. Her eyes looked almost golden in the waning sunlight. “I have no home.”
“You have no place in the world,” Jake recalled, and he heard her breath catch. He nodded. “I know the feeling, cariño. But that’s why you make one.”
She went silent, and Jake could swear he heard the cogs turning in her head. Zara glanced past him, out the window. “You think it’s that simple?”
Jake considered for a moment, then nodded. “I do.”
Zara’s eyes flicked back to him. “Why?”
Because there was no other option. Because it had to be that simple – because if it wasn’t, there was no way for any of them to have control over their lives, ever again. Because there was no point in not trying, in not fighting for what you want, no point in sitting back and allowing yourself to fall victim to your circumstances. No point in going down without a fight. Because life was nothing, other than what you made it.
Jake shrugged. “Because, cariño, it simply is.”