Chapter 2

Before Randy and Lyle’s father reached the carpeted area of their gate where Lyle already sat with his legs stretched out and slumped in one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs, they stopped, speaking briefly. Vaughn branched off to the row of shops that lined the corridor leading to the gate. Then it was only Randy and Hannah coming toward him, and Lyle groaned. There was a pleasant smile on Randy’s face, but a noticeable tension in the way Randy walked, as there always, alwayswas any time Randy deemed a conversation with him to be necessary. A person might almost think it was a bad idea to turn into a wolf in front of somebody these days. Like there was some kind of problem with sprouting teeth and fur.

Lyle snorted at his thought and turned to face the window in case he was unable to stop a grin from lighting on his face. He didn’t have to be told when Randy was close. He’d know that scent anywhere. Even after all these months it was still there, teasing him, poking at him, reminding Lyle that he’d fucked up and let Vaughn win. Taunting Lyle with the confirmation that Randy had chosen Vaughn over him and never looked back to wonder if was the correct decision.

“Your dad’s going to grab a round of drinks,” Randy said, and Lyle heard him set Hannah into a seat and then flop into one himself. “Which means more washroom breaks on the plane. I sure the hell hope we all get put together this time. If I have to listen to your dad freak out over how long one of them has been in the damn washroom, I’m going to pop something.”

Lyle turned his head, flashed a glance at Randy, and arched an eyebrow.

As if reading the look for what it was, Randy grinned. “I mean pop something in my own head, smart ass, not pop your father. Not even airport rage can make me that foolish.”

Lyle didn’t bother with a reply. He didn’t even work up a smile. If he got in trouble for his lack of social skills later, he’d blame it on exhaustion. His dad would totally buy that as a fair reason. Vaughn, after all, had been tense as fuck and damn near ready to pull out every hair since they’d first arrived at the airport in Casper.

“You know me, I don’t much care for crowds,”his father had said as the five of them had walked through the all but barren corridors and made their way past the coffee shops and the convenience stores that made up Casper’s commerce. Lyle hadn’t been able to hold back his grin then. Not when the look that Randy had cast at Lyle had most clearly been a look of ‘we’re totally fucked when we get to Denver, you know that, right?’

It had been foreshadowing that none of them were surprised by. His dad really didn’tlike crowds, was far too protective of his family, and had a sincere hate-on for any moment whereby he didn’t have the utmost control (in Lyle’s opinion, anyway).

Randy’s voice broke through Lyle’s thoughts. “Cool story for you, Lyle.”

Courtesy insisted that Lyle turn toward that voice, as much as he hated to do so.

Randy leaned back in his seat, turned his head to check on Hannah and then adjusted her against him when he saw she was nodding off. “Did you know that this airport is rumored to be the headquarters of some huge conspiracy? Some say it’s governmental, that there’s this secret lab or testing facility on the property, but some people believe it goes much higher than that. We’re talking Illuminati or Neo-Nazi. A New World Order kind of thing.”

Lyle rolled his eyes and looked down the corridor to see if his father was approaching. And I would want to know this why?

“It has a lot to do with the layout of the buildings and the runways. Imaginative minds say it’s been designed to represent a swastika when viewed aerially.” Randy waved his arms in the general direction of everywhere. “And then there’s the artwork, of course: the gargoyles, those odd Tanguma paintings. Remember the one of the soldiers that Isaac was staring at? Oh, and hey, did you know that the blue mustang sculpture caused the death of the artist that created it? Crushed the poor bastard in his own studio or something. His sons had to finish the piece. That’s kind of freaky, isn’t it?”

“They teach you that in law school?” Lyle deadpanned.

Randy shrugged. “I pick things up. I like to read. But wait, it gets better,” Randy promised, leaning forward with a grin. “There’s a plaque mounted on a time capsule with an inscription about contributors to a New World Airport Commission that, supposedly, doesn’t even exist as an actual entity. Dun-dun-dun!” Randy sang, grinning and narrowing his eyes. “Oh! I almost forgot the best part! Underground, like, under the airport, they’ve got this half-finished conveyor system. Think big rough tunnels with machinery and low lighting.” He gestured elaborately with both arms. “If that’s not enough to inspire some weird-ass fiction posing as theories, then I don’t know what is.”

“People can make up a lot of stories about things they don’t understand,” Lyle said, shifting in his seat to stare Randy down. “You should know that by now. Or do I have to remind you about all the movies with their versions of the big bad wolf?”

The amusement drained out of Randy’s face so quickly that Lyle wondered if it had been there for real. “I’m trying to be nice here, Lyle. Can we not just have a nice conversation? We’re going on vacation—”

“We’re going to DC to visit your parents,” Lyle said, rolling his eyes. “That’s hardly a vacation.”

“—as a family,” Randy continued as though Lyle hadn’t spoken. “We’re all tired, and we’re all cranky—”

Lyle smiled with his teeth. “I’m not tired in the least. Or cranky.”

“—so could we try to get along? Just for a little while? Could we try a little family cheer, maybe? If not for me, then for your father and your siblings?”

Randy’s patience was wearing thin. Lyle could hear it in his voice. And wasn’t that just too damn bad? “We have plenty of family cheer,” Lyle said. He let his smile drop. “But you’re not family.”

Randy’s expression hardened. “That was uncalled for.”

Lyle shrugged, but as he spoke, he cast his gaze at Hannah to make sure she couldn’t hear. Not so much for the fact that he’d get shit for saying it, because if Randy wanted to, Randy could make that happen regardless. But some things shouldn’t be heard by little ears. “No more uncalled-for than the fact that you’re sleeping with my father when we both know you would rather be with me.”

All the fight went out of Randy’s body—everything from expression to posture. “Have we not been through this enough? It’s been almost three goddamn years. How many times am I going to have to tell you that I’m not interested in you like that? For one thing, you’re way too young—”

Lyle swung in his seat so fast that he almost knocked himself out of it. “I’m not eighteen anymore, Randy. I’m twenty-one. So give it up with the age bull—”

“And I am in love with Vaughn.”

Randy said it the exact same way he always said it. Firm voice, pointed stare, and set jaw. It was an obvious truth, and yet it didn’t matter how many times Lyle heard it, the words burned.