Page 33 of Fool Me Twice

“Cane would a billion percent bend you over if you just asked,” Ash joked, and Hart felt his stomach drop at the onslaught of images those words produced in his mind.

Of him bent over. Taking it. Being taken. His fingers clenched against the armrests of his chair and the tie around his neck felt like it was tightening. Like fingers wrapping around his throat. Squeezing. Controlling his breath.

“I won’t be asking,” he said through clenched teeth, fighting against the visuals.

“You might not have to,” bodiless Taylor said, and Hart frowned. “He might be here to offer it himself.”

“Here?” Hart asked, jumping out of the chair with his heart in his mouth, followed by Ash.

They rushed through the hallway toward the lobby, skidding to a halt at Taylor’s desk. Fix followed them just a few seconds later, and a random guinea pig shuffled behind Fix, clearly intending to join whatever was going on.

On the other side of Taylor’s desk, Cane stood in all of his humongous, tattooed, pierced, and angry glory.

Hart felt his knees buckle for a split second before he locked them tight and stepped forward.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and Cane zeroed in on him, eyes narrowed and predatory.

He looked tense and…tired. Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. He had dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked hollower than they had just days before. Whatever was happening was clearly eating at him.

Hart wanted to tell himself he didn’t care. That Cane was an adult and he could take care of himself. But the truth was, the dead ends ate at his own sanity too. He felt shaken and bothered by the lack of progress. And Cane, looking like he did, felt like living, breathing, walking proof of Hart’s failure.

“It happened again,” Cane said.

He was vibrating with pent-up anger, and Hart didn’t want it heard outside of their offices. Fix, apparently, was of the same mind.

“How about we take this into the meeting room?” he suggested. “We can talk there.”

Cane wanted to argue, Hart noticed, but he shook his head at him. He walked over and stood behind him, forcing him to take a step forward.

“We’re all here to listen, okay?” Hart assured him. “Just come with us so we’re not in the open while we discuss sensitive matters.”

“So you believe me?” Cane demanded, listening for a change and walking toward the meeting room with Hart. “Despite all your little magic things telling you there is no curse.”

Hart walked him into the meeting room and offered him a seat, Fix and Ash already settled around the table.

“We believe you,” Hart said, looking to his teammates for confirmation. They all nodded.

“We’ve contacted other teams for consultation, and we’re actively trying to find any sort of explanation for what’s happening,” Hart said.

“You said it happened again?” Fix prompted.

“This morning,” Cane said. “I went to one of our storage units. Only a handful of people know about it as it holds some very…valuable items. It was completely empty.”

“How much are we talking?” Ash asked.

Cane curled his lip. “A couple hundred thousand.”

“Fuck,” Ash said.

“Language,” Hart said instinctively, and Cane shot him a look.

“Language is the least of my problems here, sweetheart,” he said. “Shit is getting worse every time something happens. I need this handled.”

“We’ve done everything we could think of so far,” Hart said, trying to keep his voice level.

“Except be there when it happens,” Cane said, and they all fell silent.

“The fuck are you saying?” Ash asked.