Wicked as Lies (Wicked & Devoted 3)

The ride through the chilly, humid night revived him and cleared the last of a nagging headache. Yeah, he hadn’t been completely honest about the injuries he’d sustained in Mexico not bothering him anymore. But they didn’t bother him enough to bitch, and he’d be damned if throbbing temples and a few stitches were going to keep him from returning to action. This sitting-around shit bored the hell out of him.

He pulled into a working-class neighborhood and stopped in front of a traditional brick building with two doors, one on either side of the structure. He parked his bike at the curb, hopped off, secured his helmet, and headed up the long, concrete driveway.

The colonel met him halfway, hand outstretched. “Thanks for coming so quickly. You look way better than the last time I saw you.”

Which had been as he was getting discharged from two days in the hospital. “I feel better, sir. Mind filling me in?”

“Come with me. It will make more sense once you see the situation.”

Whatever. Edgington was the boss, and he was trusting him with this assignment. “Should I grab my gear?”

He scanned the street. “It should be fine for now. Come in and see if you think you can handle this.”

Handle it? “Sir, I’m trained to handle most anything. You wouldn’t have hired me if I wasn’t.”

“This is…different.”

When the colonel turned away and headed up the walk along the left side of the house, Zy followed, wondering where the hell he was and what the hell was going on. Halfway up the path, he saw a busted-out window with a big sheet of plywood propped up beneath it. Zy studied it as he continued following his boss to the door.

After a perfunctory knock, he let himself in. “He’s here.”

“Thank you,” a soft female voice with a hint of a Southern accent said from just inside the duplex.

The colonel entered, then turned to motion him inside.

Zy followed, stepping over the threshold onto a little tile foyer that immediately gave way to a great room with white walls and high ceilings. An oatmeal-colored sofa, a pair of soft gray chairs, accented by a multitude of decorative pillows and a TV mounted to the wall gave the place a homey vibe. But what caught his attention was the young blonde looking as if she held herself together by a thread. The sight of her, bare-faced and tense, was a gut punch as his heart banged against his ribs.

“Tessa?”

She blinked in surprise, nodding as she looked Edgington’s way with a question in her wide green eyes. “Yes. How did you—”

“Your pictures at the office.”

That didn’t sound too creepy, dude. Way to go…

In her photos, she’d been perfectly made up and smiling. And he’d thought she was gorgeous. Now, she looked real and vulnerable, with her hair piled on her head and cheeks pink—and damn if she wasn’t somehow still beautiful to him. Even dressed in sweats when she was obviously sleep deprived, Zy felt himself staring like a fidiot.

“Ah.” She sent a welcoming smile. “You must be the new operative. Chase Garrett, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Call him Zyron,” the colonel cut in with a laugh.

“Or just Zy.”

Tessa sent him a confused frown.

“Stupid nickname. Long story,” he explained.

“Zy, sure. Um, come in. Sit down.”

“We’ll explain the situation,” Edgington assured in answer to his unspoken question.

Together, they made their way to the seating area. Zy held back, waiting to sit until his boss took a recliner and Tessa settled on the sofa.

He slid into the remaining chair. “What’s going on?”

Tessa and the colonel exchanged a glance, then she spoke. “My ex came by tonight, intoxicated…”

Zy listened to the whole story, getting more pissed with every word. Cash Bennett sounded like a dipshit of the first order, and the fact that his uncle would lift his crooked finger to have the douche freed before he even made it to the station annoyed the fuck out of him.

“I’m worried he’ll come back,” the colonel said. “Drunk is one thing, but the kind of anger it took to bust in the window with a flimsy board worries me. And he threatened her.”

That sent Zy’s temper soaring. Sure, he’d always hated assholes who bullied women, but this felt somehow personal. “Absolutely. What would you like me to do, sir?”

Hopefully, beat the shit out of her ex. That was a public service he could feel good about.

“You two can help each other for a bit. Zy needs a place to stay temporarily. He didn’t get to look for one before he got injured in Mexico. He also needs someone to help him change bandages and check the gashes on his back. As you can see, Tessa needs help repairing the window, protection, and a deterrent in case this asshole returns. What do you say? You up to hanging here for a few days?”