Somebody to Die For Read online

  Avery couldn’t stop staring, impressed and amazed at just how well Jameson did. All around the room, there were panicked little whispers, crying, and a few exclamations of pain. The first ghostwalk was never easy, and all if it was to be expected. But at the station in front of him, Jameson and Tyler were doing just fine.

  He made a mental note to apologize to Jameson again. Even if what Jameson had said to him was thoughtless, Jameson was clearly made to be an anchor.

  Avery pushed himself off the wall and started to circulate. He could offer his help and maybe soothe some frazzled nerves. He was there to help the ghostwalkers become a success, not obsess about a young man who had somehow gotten under his skin.

  Chapter Six

  JAMESON’S heart pounded, and nerves made his fingers shake as he cleaned the blood from Tyler’s face again. He’d coughed up some blood when Jameson turned him on his side, and even though Jameson knew to expect it, it still startled him. He did his best not to let it show, despite the fact that his pulse thundered in his veins.

  “You’re okay,” Jameson murmured. He glanced down and lifted the pad just a bit away from Tyler’s chest, so he could see how he was healing. The wound was closed. “I’ve got you.”

  Tears leaked from Tyler’s eyes, but he wasn’t crying as hard as some of the others. It was a common reaction to the shock of coming back to life, though the instructors assured them it would abate over time for most of them.

  “Ready to lie down?” Jameson asked softly as he watched Tyler’s face. When Tyler nodded, Jameson turned him onto his back, and he didn’t miss Tyler’s wince. “Sorry.”

  “It’s… okay.” Tyler worked to breathe normally.

  “Do you want—” Jameson stuttered to a halt as he tried to remember what came next. “Hydrate. You need to hydrate.”

  Several heads turned in their direction. Crap. Jameson had sort of shouted that out. He pushed down the embarrassment and refocused on Tyler. What was he supposed to be doing?

  “Water?” Tyler whispered.

  Shit. “Yes. Sorry. One second.”

  Jameson found the water in the cooler section of the cabinet. He cracked open the top and helped Tyler drink a few mouthfuls. Tyler steadied a little, and Jameson let him hold the bottle himself.

  “Pain meds?” Jameson asked, and when Tyler nodded, Jameson turned to the little kit Tyler had brought up with him. He opened it and found several premeasured syringes, alcohol pads, and a bottle of pills. “Shot or pill? How bad is the pain?”

  Tyler closed his eyes for a moment. “Shot.”

  Okay. Jameson took a steadying breath. He could do it. He had done it. He’d watched dozens of pairs ghostwalk during his training, and he assisted anchors as they cared for their ghostwalkers. It might feel different when he was the one doing the caretaking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable.

  He clenched his fists for a second to get the shaking under control. Then he ripped open an alcohol pad and carefully swabbed Tyler’s upper arm. Then he chose a syringe, clenched the cap with his teeth to pull it off, and pointed the needle at Tyler’s arm. He stopped short before putting the needle in.

  “Just go easy,” Tyler encouraged.

  A single nod and Jameson slid the needle into Tyler’s flesh and slowly pushed the plunger. He carefully pulled it out and then swiped the area one more time with an alcohol wipe.

  “Good.” Tyler closed his eyes, and a minute later, his body relaxed as the pain med did its job.

  Jameson took a deep breath and then another. He tossed the cap and the syringe in the sharps bin and then turned back to Tyler. He pressed the button on the chair, and it moved in the wrong direction.

  “Crap. Sorry.” Jameson felt a blush creeping over his cheeks, but he tried to ignore it as he converted the chair into a bed. Tyler relaxed even more, and Jameson took the water bottle out of his hand, put the pillow under his head, and draped the light blanket over him.

  “Vitals check.” Dom’s voice was a gentle reminder, but Jameson startled hard enough to knock over the bottle of water he’d just set on the cabinet. He flailed to catch it and only spilled a little before he righted the bottle and made sure it was tightly closed.

  Blood pressure normal. Temperature a little low but not worrisome. Pulse-ox readings good. Jameson made the notes on his tablet, all the while glancing at Tyler. With a sigh of relief, he saw Tyler was sleeping and the lines of pain etched around his eyes and mouth had eased.

  “How are things over here?” Avery kept his voice soft, and Jameson fought a shiver. He had to get himself under control. The sound of Avery’s voice shouldn’t be able to affect him so much. More than that, he knew it was hopeless to think of Avery as anything more than an instructor—inappropriate even.

  “Okay,” Jameson answered as he turned in his chair. “I messed up a little.”

  “You did fine.” Avery graced him with a smile that made Jameson’s heart skip.

  “No, I forgot—”

  “I was watching. You did fine. The whole point of doing these things as a group is so that you have experienced people here to help. It wasn’t perfect. No. But you’ll get better. And by the time you have a partner, you’ll have a lot more practice. Don’t worry so much.”

  Jameson nodded, warmed at Avery’s praise. His mind was already working, and he analyzed what he had done wrong and what he could do better. He was so lost in thought about setting things up beforehand, having it all laid out in the order in which he would need it, that he jumped when Avery laid a warm hand on his shoulder.

  But Avery’s quirk of a smile made his insides flip, and long after Avery moved along to interact with the other pairs, Jameson was still thinking about that touch.

  IT was official. Jameson had become a stalker.

  He was acutely aware of when Avery left to go home, but he knew Avery would be coming back periodically throughout the training session. Every morning Jameson scanned the day’s agenda to see if a lecture by Avery was on it. Every meal in the cafeteria, Jameson gazed repeatedly around the room to see if Avery was there.

  He knew he should rein it in and let it go, but he couldn’t help it. And it went beyond Avery’s dark good looks and lithe body. Jameson wanted to talk with him, just to hear him speak. He was beautiful, but Jameson wanted to know what made Avery tick. And he still felt like he hadn’t made up for his rude behavior that first day.

  It had only been two weeks since Avery left, but the lack of contact was making Jameson twitchy. If Jameson could just see Avery, it would be better. He needed to know that Avery was all right. The whole thing couldn’t be easy on Avery, and Jameson wanted to make sure he was coping.

  Because even though Avery hadn’t officially confirmed the rumor that he’d been bonded, Jameson read between the lines. He saw the way others treated Avery, and Jameson might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he was good at reading people. It all added up. Avery had been bonded, and Jameson couldn’t imagine how a constant reminder of what Avery had lost must affect him.

  As Jameson entered the cafeteria, he automatically began looking, even as he wound his way through the tables to the line. He expected not to see Avery—his name hadn’t been on the schedule that morning—so he couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted him at a table in the corner. Jameson stopped dead, causing the person behind him to run into his back.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Cody shot Jameson a look and then purposefully strode around him.

  Jameson didn’t care if he’d upset Cody. Well, he cared, but his mind was occupied with more important things. Avery was engrossed with the papers strewn on the table and wasn’t paying attention to anything around him. With a smile Jameson got in line.

  Ten minutes later he approached Avery’s table with his tray. Avery didn’t look up until Jameson set the dessert down on the table… right on top of the page Avery was reading.

  His full-blown scowl was absolutely adorable.

  Jameson grinned.
“Welcome back. May I join you?”

  Avery grumbled, and even though he didn’t respond, he did scoop some of the papers together to make a little room. Jameson sat across from him, because even though he wanted to be close, he’d rather look at Avery’s face.

  “How have you been?” Jameson ripped open a ketchup packet and squirted the contents onto his fries.

  “Fine.”

  Jameson waited a beat and then another. When the reciprocal question didn’t come, he grinned again. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. You have another lecture planned?”

  Avery sighed, heavily and dramatically, and Jameson laughed. When he did, Avery’s façade broke a little, and he gave Jameson a tiny quirk of his lips.

  “Yes. Tomorrow. On tailoring which cases to take to play to a ghostwalker’s strength.”

  Jameson nodded. “I’ll be sure to take good notes so I can ask intelligent questions without hurting anyone.”

  Avery made a noise that sounded like an aborted laugh. His shoulders relaxed, and he pulled the dessert Jameson had brought closer to him.

  “Thanks for this. Cheesecake is my favorite.”

  Jameson filed that information away. “Then why don’t you get it yourself? The catering staff here makes an awesome cheesecake.”

  Avery nodded. “Yes, well. I don’t need the extra calories.” He eyed the plate but then picked up his fork.

  “Oh, then it’s a good thing I’m the one who brought it to you.” Jameson winked. “Cheesecake doesn’t have calories when it’s given as a gift, you know.”

  That time Avery did laugh, and Jameson’s entire body warmed at the soft, melodic sound. He had the somewhat painful thought that Avery didn’t laugh enough. If anyone needed joy in his life, it was Avery.

  And if it was up to Jameson, Avery would have a lot more of it from then on.

  “YOU need to stop giving me cheesecake.”

  Jameson shook his head, set the dessert down, and took a seat. For the third day in a row, he’d found Avery sitting by himself in the corner of the cafeteria at lunch and made a point of picking up the cheesecake to bring to him.

  “No. You like it. And watching you eat it is one of life’s great pleasures.”

  Avery blinked, and his expression became neutral. He took a breath and pushed the cheesecake away just a little as he fixed Jameson with an intense stare.

  “Listen, Jameson, I don’t know what—”

  Jameson held up a hand, knowing what Avery was about to say and not wanting to hear it. Yes, he felt something for Avery. But he knew Avery wasn’t in any sort of place to reciprocate, which was fine.

  “Friends, Avery. Just friends.” It was a total lie, because Jameson wanted to be much more than just friends. But he knew better than to hope for more, and he’d take what he could get.

  Avery eyed him suspiciously. But when he picked up the cheesecake and took a bite, Jameson knew he’d won.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Avery said between one bite and the next.

  Jameson squinted. “Is it because of our age difference?”

  Avery almost choked on his bite, but he managed to swallow and then took a drink from his water bottle. “What?”

  Jameson shrugged. “Some people think eighteen years is a lot.”

  Avery narrowed his eyes. “I might be forty-one, but I look twenty-five. I’m going to live for a hundred and twenty years at least. What do I care about eighteen years?” He reached for his coffee and lifted the mug to his lips, but his gaze turned into a glare. “How do you know my age?”

  Jameson flushed and stabbed at his lettuce. He’d been trying for healthy today, and the Cobb salad looked good. He stuffed a forkful into his mouth and then tucked the bite into his cheek and muttered, “You’re in the database.”

  “You looked me up.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Jameson thought he should respond. “Uh, sorta.”

  “Sorta?” Avery repeated incredulously. Jameson sat up straight at the way Avery’s tone went cold.

  “I just, you know, peeked. Which was completely wrong of me, and I closed out as soon as I pulled up your file, but I did notice your birthday.” Jameson knew it was wrong, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. He wanted to know more about Avery, and Avery himself wasn’t that forthcoming.

  Avery put down his half-finished cheesecake. He didn’t say anything as he started to pile his garbage on the tray. Crap.

  “Avery, I apologize. It was a shitty thing to do, and I take full responsibility. If you don’t want to be friends with me, I’ll understand and accept it. I’ll stop pushing.” Jameson took a breath and went for broke. “I wanted to know more about you, but I should have asked instead of snooping. I swear, as soon as I pulled you up, I closed it down.”

  Avery squeezed his eyes shut and still didn’t speak. But he was no longer trying to leave. Jameson didn’t let hope take root. He’d gone too far, and he knew it.

  “That was a very hurtful thing to do.” Avery opened his eyes, and Jameson saw the disappointment in them. “It’s public knowledge, yes. Anyone can look at the files. But you went behind my back.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jameson didn’t know what else he could say.

  “I know.” Avery stood and picked up his tray. “And I believe you are. But Jameson, you say you’re sorry a lot. Maybe it’s time you start thinking before you act.” Avery took two steps away but then turned back. “Thank you for telling me what you did. I appreciate the honesty. But you need to stop doing things you end up apologizing for.”

  Jameson nodded. He didn’t know what he could do to fix this between them, other than actually grow up a little and do as Avery suggested. Acting without thinking had always been his downfall. It was time to adjust his actions.

  “Look,” Avery said, his gaze fixed on his tray. “We all mess up. We’re human. And it takes strength and character to apologize when we do something wrong. But the next step is to correct the action and not repeat it. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And now I sound like I’m lecturing you, which wasn’t really my intent.” Avery sighed and then finally looked Jameson in the eye. “I just want more for you. I think when you have your own partner, things are… I… I’m going to go before I dig myself deeper. I’ll see you later.”

  Jameson watched Avery walk away, and his heart cracked a little. He hadn’t meant for it to go so wrong, but he had to accept the consequences. He’d use the lesson to better himself. Jameson knew he needed to work on things, and he added that to the list. Avery was right. When he got a partner, he couldn’t make that kind of hurtful mistake. Determined to show Avery he was learning and growing, he got up and headed to the afternoon session.

  He would do better.

  “JAMESON. A word, if you please.”

  Internally cringing, Jameson took a moment to compose himself and then turned around to face Director Johnson. Her expression gave nothing away. In fact, he thought, maybe she was purposefully keeping her face neutral. That couldn’t be good.

  He said goodbye to the group he’d been standing with and ignored Gabriela’s questioning look as he followed the director down the hall to her office. His mind raced, and he tried to think of what he had done to warrant a private meeting with her.

  Crap. Had Avery told her about his snooping? It had been two days since that fateful conversation, and he thought they’d both moved past it. But maybe he’d been mistaken.

  Technically he hadn’t done anything wrong—anyone could look at the public files—but it was still sort of inappropriate. Though Avery had chastised him, and he vowed to do better, maybe Avery didn’t think that was enough? Jameson couldn’t blame him, but he hoped it wouldn’t get him a formal reprimand. He’d just have to assure Director Johnson that he’d do better.

  “Sit down,” Director Johnson invited as she closed the door. Jameson did and was heartened by the fact that her tone sounded lighter. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

&nbs
p; “We’ve found a match for you,” Johnson said without preamble.

  Jameson’s heart swooped, and a weird sort of jittery feeling snaked through his stomach. He had to clamp his hands on his knees to stop them from bouncing.

  “Really?” Jameson licked his suddenly dry lips.

  Johnson offered him a small smile. “Yes. She’s just entered the program, so she needs to go through the initial training first. But it’s a 77 percent match, and we’re confident you’ll work well together.”

  As excited as Jameson was about the prospect of getting paired with his own ghostwalker, he didn’t feel the elation he expected. Avery slid into his mind again, and Jameson was acutely aware of just why he wasn’t thrilled. But that was ridiculous. Avery didn’t ghostwalk anymore.

  “So what’s the plan?” Jameson forced himself to ask.

  “Since she’s only just begun training, it’ll be at least six months before she’s even remotely ready. We can’t rush these things… too much, anyway.” Johnson offered him another smile. “If you’re amenable, we’ll keep you on here, training as you’ve been doing. You still have six weeks left.”

  Relief flooded Jameson. “Not a problem.”

  “Good. Once we’re sure she’s capable, we’ll have the two of you meet.” Johnson’s face turned serious. “Not everyone works out, as I’m sure you know.”

  Jameson nodded. Two of the people from his original class—one an anchor and one a ghostwalker—had left after only a few weeks. Just because a person was well suited to the job didn’t mean they wanted to spend their life doing it. While what Requiem Inc. did was important and necessary, not everyone who could do the job should do the job.