Page 5 of Zeus

"We'll let you get settled," Hemlock says, his voice gruff and with a hint of something else.

This chapter hasn't been active for very long, and his presidency was only announced after his episode that brought Zara and him together. There's a very good chance that he's not exactly happy with the way I entered the house and dropped a bomb right in the middle of this group that has only very recently gotten to know each other. I feel a sense of remorse for the way I acted. I know it can't be easy to keep a team of people with so many different backgrounds and life stories together.

"Meeting first thing in the morning," he says before guiding Zara away.

I'm not left standing there alone for long.

"Nice to see you again," I say, holding out my hand and doing my best to ignore the urge to ask just what in the hell he and my old friend were chatting about.

This entire thing feels much more juvenile than it should, but I imagine that's because the history I have with Frankie comes from a time when neither of us was really even a man. I don't know about him, but I had no real clue about who I was at the time.

His denial in front of this team makes me wonder whether what we shared all those years ago happened only because he was trying to figure out who he was, and now that he's grown, he's well aware of who he is. That leaves me wishing I hadn't opened my damn mouth in the first place.

"You as well," Ace says, clasping my hand in his and giving it a firm shake.

There's a beat of awkward silence, but I spend it looking around the vast room and admiring the expansive height of the ceiling rather than giving in to the urge to look in Frankie’s direction.

I fight it as long as I can manage, no doubt looking like an impressed child, as if I've never been in a house this big, which is far from the truth. The house I grew up in was just as large. The difference is, even with the cold shoulder I've gotten from Frankie, I can already tell that this place feels like home to some.

"Do you want me to show you to your room?" Ace asks, and I want to challenge it.

I want to argue and ask why he's so quick to get rid of me, but I know he's just being nice. Understandably, someone who just spent days traveling on a motorcycle would want to get settled in so soon after arriving. I'm the one on edge, and I'd be a fool to think this man has any ill will toward me at all.

"Sure," I tell him, losing the battle and looking in Frankie's direction just in time to see the man's back as he walks from the room.

Fresh air slaps me in the face as we walk out the front door. When I make a detour to my bike to grab the minimal things I brought with me from New Mexico, there's enough doubt about what I'm doing here that I contemplate jumping on it and finding something else to do with my life.

Despite all my mental bravado before, I'm exhausted from life and the things I've done and seen in my career, so facing a challenge I could easily walk away from seems like the best choice for me.

But I've never been one to walk away from any opposition in my life. I face things head-on, even knowing that the best possible outcome will still be unfavorable.

"Didn't bring much," Ace says when I rejoin him.

"Don't need much," I explain as I heft the strap of my backpack on my shoulder. "Won't get to wear my own clothes for a while, I imagine."

"True," he says, looking ahead as we round the far side of this cabin and walk thirty feet to the front door of the next one. "This cabin has ten rooms. The other one has fifteen."

"A lot of space for such a small group," I say, walking through the door after he punches in the key code.

"Kincaid is always looking toward the future. The battle we're fighting is going to take a lot more men and women than we currently have."

I grunt in agreement because we both know there are days we're barely ahead of the criminals, and most days we're ten steps behind.

"This is the rec area," he says, walking through the house and turning on lights. "Code to the pool and hot tub is on the door."

"Nice," I say, giving the area he pointed toward a quick glance.

"Theater," he says, flipping on the light in the room to showcase the rows of leather recliners before turning the light back off and pointing to the left. "Half bath over there. The kitchen is on the main floor."

I follow him up the stairs to a massive open area very similar to the cabin we just left.

"The house was turnkey," he says. "Decor can be adjusted, I guess."

"It's great," I say, without a care in the world for what pictures are on the wall.

"You get your pick of a room. Originally, the place had bunk beds and stuff since it was previously used as a short-term rental, but we've already transitioned them to have all kings."

"More rooms upstairs," I say, pointing toward the second staircase.