Devin had informed them that she’d found the molecular scanner and possibly the formula for Phantom. Lance was in the process of securing a chemist to help them on that. His friend not only wanted to unlock the code but work on an antidote, like naloxone for methamphetamines. The authorities would probably do the same, but at a much slower pace.
For a moment, Sam had thought Orla would step back, especially after being informed that White hadn’t been captured or killed yet. How wrong he was.
She’d doubled her efforts, scouring the worst of Chicago to find the vendors, trying to find a link up the chain and relaying her findings to Devin.
Giving one last jab to the punching bag, Sam went to the side wall and sat on the floor. His strength was gone, and peace still eluded him. In the near darkness of the abandoned gym, he reached into his pocket in search of the pendant, but his hand came up empty. Once more, Sam pictured the pendant around Orla’s neck. The image conjured the woman in his mind, her soft, pale skin and curves. He still could taste her, even hear her moans and pleas. His cock stirred, and that longing brought him back to reality.
“And here I thought I’d have the gym all to myself at this time of night.” Lance closed the door behind him.
Sam refrained from snarling as it wouldn’t be fair to his friend, and it would be a wasted effort. Instead, he sighed and leaned against the wall. “Has Melina given you the authorization to be here, or do I need to tell on you?”
The giant blond man huffed his chest. “I’m doing better, almost fully healed. A little jog will do me good. I hope it does me better than it did you, at least. Did you sleep here?”
Sam ignored him, needing a little more time to make sure he could stand without making a fool of himself. Too bad he wasn’t that lucky when Lance came and carefully sat down beside him. It seemed he wasn’t on the mend as much as he’d said he was. “You smell like a wet dog. When did you shower last, dammit?”
Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a lecture,Dad. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Any news on finding a chemist?”
Lance nodded. “I’ve narrowed the search down to a few promising possibilities. Devin is running background checks. As we’ll probably bring them into our fold, I want to make sure we don’t make any mistakes. We were lucky with Orla, and I don’t want to leave our safety to chance again.”
Silence fell between them, and Sam hoped Lance would start with his workout and leave him alone, but it seemed it wasn’t to be. “Have you read Orla’s piece on the spread of Phantom and her related conspiracy theory? Fascinating article. Very well written. I’m impressed.”
Sam had read it. Several times. Orla had a way with words that hooked her readers, although he didn’t need it to have her haunt his mind. “She’s a journalist, of course she can write.”
What was Lance doing? “Never thought you’d be the one complementing Orla considering you were the one who told me to keep away. If I didn’t know your tastes went the other way, I’d think you were about to propose to her.”
His deep laughter boomed in the empty space. “She’s not my type. Not because she’s a woman, but because she’s yours. It just took me some time to see it.”
His words took a moment to sink in and make sense. “She’s not mine, Lance. I made that clear to her the last time I saw her. I’m part of Noctem. She’s an outsider. You said it yourself; it can’t be. I’ve accepted the life I live as a criminal who spends half his time wearing a mask.”
With a snort, Lance leaned his head on the wall. “I said no such thing. I only said it wasn’t a good idea. But Orla isn’t just anybody. She could’ve made headway on a second Pulitzer by revealing what she knew of us, but instead, she’s feeding us a lot of useful information. It’s only a matter of time before she breaks this case.
“She shouldn’t put herself in danger like that. White is still out there, and she’s strolling the worst neighborhoods of Chicago trying to get him.”
Even if he wanted to stay factual, Sam sounded rather angry, and Lance raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, I don’t think she’ll stop even if she’s ordered to. We’re keeping an eye on her.”
Would it be enough? Time and time again, Sam had followed her from afar, invisible, unable to keep away and praying she’d be safe.
“I just said Orla is exceptional, and a potential addition to Noctem, and you’re still here. I thought you’d be out the door and running to her place before I’d finished speaking. So there must be something else.”
Head bowed; Sam sighed. “It’s something you said. I heard what you told her when we were trying to catch White. Who we are can’t be overlooked.”
“It can’t. It’s what we are and what we do and choose to be, Sam. I have to admit I said those words with the intent of keeping her away from us. And from you at the same time. Wasn’t it what you wanted? The thing is, do you still want that now?”
“It’s not about what I want. I’m a thief, a murderer, and a vigilante. God help me.”
“Yes, you are. And you’re so much more. Nobody in this group can deny what they’ve done in the past. Not even me. It’s what led us here. By founding Noctem with you and Sloane, I found purpose again. We channeled our skills and put them to good use. I won’t put that aside. I need this, maybe forever.”
Sam got to his feet and offered Lance a hand and they moved to the center of the room. “And that’s the reason I can’t ask Orla to explore what we have together and bring her in. I need this job and know I’d regret it if I abandoned Noctem, even for Orla.”
“Did she ask you to step down? As for being part of this, she already is, my friend. If she didn’t want anything to do with you, or us, she would’ve already cut all ties. Instead, each time she works the Phantom case, she becomes more connected to us. We can certainly use her as our informant until this is over. But I won’t bring her fully in unless it’s what you want. It’s your call, and your call only.”
Lance took a step away before turning back to Sam. “I suspect the woman knows you come with baggage. If I were you, I’d take a shot. True connections are rare nowadays.”
“I didn’t know you were a romantic, Lance.”
The half-crooked smile his friend gave him revealed very little. “Not anymore. But I’m still hopeful. It’s in your hands now. The decision is up to you. As far as Sloane and I are concerned, Orla has earned her stripes and is welcomed into Noctem.”
Lance went to the treadmill and programmed his run; Sam stood still for a moment, processing Lance’s words before shaking his head and heading to the shower.
