Oversight (The Community Book 2) Page 6

  And Holden was just as hard for him. In fact, his body was reacting in a way it never had before. Every sense was alight as he moved his hands over Six in an effort to feel everything he could. With no impressions to absorb, all he could do was touch.

  It was right about the time triumph usually exploded in Holden’s chest with invisible banners and balloons celebrating a conquest, but this time he felt apprehension. He didn’t want to end this kiss. He wanted Six to keep exploring the inside of his mouth with a delightfully frantic lack of finesse, and he wanted a genuine fucking smile once they were done. But that wasn’t in the cards. That wasn’t what this was about.

  Holden pulled away with a ragged sigh. “I’m guessing you enjoyed your first kiss.”

  “I never confirmed it was my first,” Six said hoarsely. He licked his lips. “You assumed.”

  “I assume right. I may not be able to read your emotions, but I could feel your heart beating out of your chest.”

  “And I could feel yours.”

  He could probably still feel it, because Holden’s body was betraying him and his plan by behaving like a giddy schoolboy.

  “You liked it,” Holden said knowingly. He brushed their lips together again, and smiled when Six immediately leaned in for a deeper kiss. One touch and he was hooked? It couldn’t be that easy. Not with him. “And it doesn’t take a psychic to know you want more.”

  “Maybe I’m just curious. It’s been thirty years.”

  “That’s a long time to go untouched,” Holden agreed. “And, like I said, I can help you out with that. If you help me out with some answers.”

  The little bit of life that had lit Six’s expression immediately vanished. Almost as if he’d forgotten why they’d been kissing, and the words were a wake-up call Holden hadn’t expected him to need. Regret slammed into Holden, but he dismissed it with a shake of his head. No matter how good Six felt against him, or how delicious those frantic unpracticed kisses had been, this wasn’t about seduction or attraction or intrigue. This was about his mother, the Farm, and whatever the hell the Community had planned for him. Wherever they were keeping Chase.

  The fact that Six had been planted here by the people currently trying to pin the recent disasters on Holden mopped up any lingering traces of his reluctance to keep this all business.

  “Tell me about the Farm, and I’ll let you play out your every fantasy on my body.” Holden ran his hand along Six’s face, stroking his thick dark whiskers and marveling at how soft his hair was. “As long as you give me what I need.”

  “And you’re going to give me what I need?”

  “Yes. No matter how dark or dirty or rough, I’m there for it.”

  Holden tried not to be affected by the mental images popping into his mind, but it was impossible. Even though Six had defaulted to cyborg mode, there were things about him that Holden couldn’t help but notice now. The smell of musk and sweat from working the club all night, the way his fingers flexed, his steady heartbeat, and the fact that Holden could not detect a hint of color in those eyes even at this proximity. Just gleaming black pools that gave nothing away.

  “Fine,” Six said. “I’ll tell you this much—the Farm is the most secure Community facility for a reason. The people held there are considered a risk to the Community, whether that means the folks in charge are worried about them exposing us by being too blatant about their abilities, going to the media for monetary reasons, exposing the Community for some wrongdoing, or even breaking off from the Community.”

  “How is that a risk? We’re free to go at will, just as we were free to join.”

  “No one is free to join or go,” Six said. “Once you’re on their radar, you don’t leave it. They track every psy they come across. And if you sign the dotted line and try to leave, they try to talk you out of it because now you know Comm secrets. Can’t have that, can we? Better keep you on the Farm for a couple of months to try to talk you out of it.”

  “And how do they do that?”

  “By telling you how great the Community is every day, all day, for however long it takes to get you to change your mind.” Six’s lip lifted into something resembling a smile. “It’s very effective. Don’t you see how well it worked on me?”

  That had to be a trap. The question dripped sarcasm, but Holden didn’t believe for a second that Six was really this disparaging about the Community he had been serving for the past couple of decades. Not only was he staff, as he’d called it, but he was security. Oversight. For Richard Payne’s son. You didn’t get that far without earning some serious trust. Which meant doing or covering up some serious dirt.

  Holden nodded without engaging with the question. “During that time are people closely monitored when interacting with the outside world?”

  Six laughed dryly.

  “What?”

  “I just think it’s funny how oblivious you are to how this all works.”

  “I don’t find it funny that you’re incapable of giving me an answer without mocking me. I’d think you, who appreciates directness, would be better than that.”

  “I’m being as direct as I can be.” Six exhaled slowly, his breath warm and smelling like peppermint. “Yes, guests on the Farm are monitored. Closely. So are phone calls. And cells aren’t permitted once realignment has started.”

  “I’ve experienced realignment before, and I wasn’t treated that way.”

  “Because you were primarily there as a punishment from your father. Real realignment has different levels, but most people get the same treatment. And most people agree to it beforehand.”

  Had his mother agreed to this level of realignment? It was entirely possible. She’d left the city to go to the Farm because her negative feelings about Holden’s father had begun turning into negative feelings about the Community, and that had activated guilt and self-loathing that had been catastrophic for her. She’d hoped the distance from Richard and closeness to the Comm would help, but the change in her personality spelled out a hint to something else happening. Something besides her volunteering to help supervise the place.

  Had her distrust and negativity not dissipated, and she’d signed up for realignment as a result? And did realignment turn people into shells of their former selves?

  There were too many questions, and he couldn’t ask Six any of them. Because then it would be obvious that he didn’t trust the Community. Maybe then it would be his turn to get shipped off to the Farm.

  “Thank you, Sixtus.” Holden set his concerns aside and forced a smile, moving his hands down to rub over Six’s pecs. His chest was rock-hard and indicative of a serious dedication to working out. “When do you want to meet up?”

  “To fuck?”

  “Yes. To fuck.”

  Six looked at him for a long moment before sidestepping him. “I’ll pass.”

  “We still don’t know anything about Chase?”

  “No, but I’m beginning to think he’s at the Farm.”

  Elijah plopped down on an ancient orange recliner, the fabric covered with patches and stitches from years of being ripped open and sewn back together. It was so big that he looked smaller than usual curled up on it, his knees drawn up to his chin and arms wrapped around them. With his tattered cardigan draping around him and a Charlie Brown Christmas tree limply sitting on a side table nearby, he looked like a character in a Dickens novel.

  A Dickens novel where the orphans drank whiskey with Pop-Tarts while watching holiday cartoons—a grim reminder that it was Christmas Day, and Holden hadn’t even noticed before now. He usually spent the morning with his father at the CW and the evening at the club, but that hadn’t even come up. It was painfully obvious that his father was avoiding him. Maybe doing damage control to his own rep if the other founders were wary of Holden and Evo.

  It stung, and Holden hated the burn. Why couldn’t he be like Elijah, who’d been run out of his own house as a teen and had survived? Or Six, who had flatly told him he’d be spending the day working out an
d gave no fucks about family or holidays? Why was he so hurt that neither parent had contacted him? Although . . . who knew what was going on with his mother. The memory of that phone call put everything back into perspective.

  “Do you think he’s there because he wants to be?” Elijah asked, poking at his frosted Pop-Tart. “Like, do you think he’s celebrating Christmas or . . . doing some weird group therapy indoctrination about following Community protocol?”

  “I couldn’t say, Elijah. Did you usually spend the day with him?”

  “Yes. And I just want him to be happy. Or at least not . . . entirely miserable.” Elijah buried his face in his knees again. He was so out of place in the hodgepodge apartment. Eclectic didn’t begin to describe it. Paintings and prints covered every available space on the walls along with rows of bookshelves. It was much smaller than Elijah’s past apartment, and the belongings weren’t his. Apparently, Airbnbs came in handy for people on the run. The clutter was not ideal for an empath, but luckily Holden’s mental shield was strong enough to block the vibes. Nate Black wouldn’t have been as fortunate. “I went to the Farm when I first joined, but I honestly don’t remember a lot about what happened there. I’m pretty sure they’re not big into holidays though.”

  “Wasn’t that only a few years ago?”

  “Yeah, but it’s like the memories are gone.” He spread his fingers like an explosion. “Poof.”

  “Why were you even there?”

  Elijah tore at the rip in the knee of his pants. “When they found me, I was drinking and taking pills. They wanted me detoxed and aligned before trusting me to learn everything else about the Comm, I guess.”

  The running themes of trust and making sure people wouldn’t expose the Community were starting to niggle at Holden. There seemed to be more of a focus on keeping things hushed up than truly helping the people they’d originally vowed to protect.

  “I wonder what happens to people who, in their eyes, might now or have in the past posed a threat to the Community. Whether it’s a real threat or imagined in the minds of the board members. Or just fear. That would be even worse—the idea that they’re letting fear drive their actions.” Holden sat on the edge of a similarly overstuffed chair with a colorful checkered pattern. “I’m starting to wonder if a lot of people who go to the Farm long-term end up sounding like puppets like my mother or disappear into some portal like Chase?”

  “Don’t say it like that. Please.” Elijah closed his eyes. “It makes it sound like we’ll never see him again.”

  “How do we know we will? How do I know I’ll see my mother?”

  “How do you know we won’t?” Elijah demanded, abruptly sitting upright. He kicked his legs out in front of him and slid to the edge of the cushion. “I know this all looks bad, but I want to believe he’ll be okay. Maybe he’s just going through realignment because he tried to figure out the Beck thing on his own instead of going to your father? I’m sure it doesn’t help that he brought an outsider into it.” Elijah hunched forward, cracking his knuckles and looking imploringly up at Holden. “Think about it. Even if Nate is psy, he still isn’t part of the Comm. And I’m pretty sure he never wants to be. At this point, I don’t want to be either. I wish I’d never gotten sucked into all of this bullshit. It’s starting to feel like . . . a giant scam to get money from members in exchange for control over our actions and undying loyalty. What do we even get in return?”

  Even knowing there was something suspicious going on, the words hurt. Without the Comm, Holden would have never met Elijah. Besides that, Elijah was one of the people the Community had truly come through for, which was why he had a testimonial on a plaque at the CW. There were dual parts of Holden’s brain warring about whether he should let the comments slide or point this out and defend the Community.

  Holden opened his mouth to go for something in the middle, to point out that all of this drama and confusion was likely due to nothing this bad having ever happened in the Comm before, and now the leaders were overreacting due to panic. But words of defense wouldn’t come with his own father allowing blame to be laid at his feet. But believing in something for so many years only to have it fall apart bit by bit felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

  Holden blew out a slow breath, sorting through everything Elijah had said. “It’s possible he’s going through realignment, but it works differently for different people. I had a light version when I was a kid, but that likely has more to do with my father than anyone else. The only person I can think of who has been thoroughly subjected to the full treatment is Sixtus, and asking him is out of the question.”

  Especially since they’d been avoiding each other for the past couple of days. Six had even stopped gracing him with his blunt observations and dry sarcasm. He kept his distance. They’d only exchanged words when Holden had awkwardly asked about holiday plans.

  “What reason did your father give for sending Sixtus?” Elijah asked, voice lowering as if Six would be able to hear it from uptown. “Just another person to keep an eye on the club, or did he finally admit that he wants someone keeping an eye on you?”

  “We all know he wants me to have a handler, but I’m starting to think I finally know the real reason why . . .” Now Holden was copying Elijah and lowering his voice with every word. “They know they fucked up with Beck, and there’s apparently discontent in the Community. Maybe even with the board. Apparently, the only way they can think of to cover their asses is to put the blame on us for not spotting Beck sooner. Which means I absolutely do not trust Six. He was the one who told me the deal, but that doesn’t mean anything. He was sent by my father. And apparently he isn’t the only one.”

  Elijah shrank in on himself again. “You’re talking about those guys who’ve been following me.”

  “So you knew.”

  “Of course I knew. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply you were. I just didn’t know if they ever made their presence known more overtly.”

  “They’re the same guys who showed up at Lia’s house to look for me.” Elijah glanced at his phone. “And, speaking of Lia, she’s going to be here in a few minutes.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize you were having company.”

  Holden started to stand, but Elijah shook his head. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  Elijah bit his lower lip and glanced at the door. “All of this.”

  “What do you mean . . . ‘all of this’?” Holden’s brow crashed down. “Fuck, Elijah, you didn’t run your mouth about Community shit to Lia, did you? That is absolutely unacceptable.”

  “‘Unacceptable’? Seriously?” Elijah got to his feet and put his hands on his hips. “After all that’s happened, and all that’s going on, you expect me to care about rules made up by people like your father? Rich psychics who use their influence to turn us into puppets?”

  Those dual urges reared up again, but instead of fighting them, Holden took a step forward. “Where is this coming from, Elijah? I know what happened with Beck was awful. I may not have been as close with Jericho or Theo as you were, but I cared about them both. Especially Theo. And I hate that it happened under my nose. I hate that the Community is trying to cover up their own oversight, but that doesn’t change that they helped you. I have helped you. And six months ago, you were one of the Community’s biggest cheerleaders. You were one of the main people railing against Theo when he started throwing the Comm under the bus!”

  “I know that,” Elijah said, voice lowering. “And I feel awful for it now.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask again. Where is this coming from?”

  “It’s coming from me wondering if I was their biggest cheerleader because . . .” Elijah’s dark eyes flashed damply. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because they knew how to manipulate a gay kid with no family. They knew I would do anything to be accepted somewhere, so they found my weaknesses and exploited them. Had me thinking the Community was basically my church and you and your
dad were my gods for saving me. And had me feeling so grateful and indebted that I never questioned the membership fee, the rules, or the idea that turning on your friends like I did to Theo was for their own sake and for a greater good of the Community.” Elijah swallowed heavily, hugging himself tighter. “And there’s so many Comm members like me, Holden. It’s almost like they seek out people who are missing something in their lives . . . so they can fill the holes and leave us feeling terrified of losing the organization that saved us.”

  Holden didn’t know what to say. Especially because . . . it rang true. And similar thoughts had drifted through his own head after his father had gone along with him opening Evolution. He’d wondered if Richard had wanted him to collect more kids like Elijah. The lost always became the most loyal.

  But those weren’t things he was prepared to say out loud.

  A knock on the door served as both an interruption and Holden’s answer. He pursed his lips and watched Elijah edge around him to answer the door.

  Lia walked in wrapped in a leather bomber jacket, multiple scarves, and boots that consumed her entire leg and half of her thigh. She’d bleached and cut her hair, and she looked glamorous even as her eyes skewered Holden to the spot as soon as they set on him.

  “Long time no see, Payne.”

  “Same. How is your holiday going?”

  “I’m an atheist.”

  “Oh. Sorry for assuming.”

  Lia snorted and unwound one of her scarves. “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but we need to talk, and I’m running on limited time.”

  “It depends on what we’re talking about,” he countered. “If it’s about the situation with people following Elijah to your house, I would love to figure out why that’s happening. If it’s about the Community being a big bad organization who wants to turn us all into puppets . . . Well . . . I may be less agreeable.”