Curtain Call (The Jewel Project #7)

15. Tainted Love

Sam glanced at the screen of his laptop, but he had no idea what to type in. His half-finished report glared back at him, because he'd gotten to the part where his fingers refused to move and write. Every time he even considered pressing another key, he felt as if he were suffocating.

He knew everything was flimsy and all his lies would fall apart if anyone had the sense to check. He'd invented a temple somewhere in the jungles of Peru and went on to describe it in painstaking detail, including writing that spoke of the legend of the jewel. But now that he had to put down the part on how and why they failed... It choked him.

His mind kept going back to that devilish room filled with traps. He could hear the walls crumbling, feel the whoosh of the wall as it shot up and separated Kyle from the rest of them, hear his final words...

It broke Sam more than anything had in a while. He wasn't even sure what hurt him more. Losing Skye or losing Kyle. The burn in his chest was all too familiar. Which was why he couldn't type anything about it. Not even a lie.

He saved what he had and turned off his laptop. He really didn't have the heart to do this now, and they were all supposed to meet up at his place to decide what to do anyway. Maybe the others could give him some ideas what to say in that thing.

He stood and stretched. His bones still ached. Even if none of them had been seriously injured, they hadn't fully recovered yet from the aftermath of their little adventure. They did their best to act like nothing had happened, but the stress, the weariness... It showed when he was alone, or when it was just them. The thought of seeing everyone warmed his chest, even if it meant coming face to face with Kay again. He really hoped she was doing better.

"Going home already?"

Sam stopped mid-stretch, trying to fight the revulsion making its way through him. Harry stood in the doorway, his eyebrows raised in polite interest.

"Yeah, I'm a bit exhausted, really." Sam closed the lid of his laptop and rounded his desk.

Harry didn't move, just leaned his shoulder against the jamb, effectively blocking the entire doorway. "I can only guess. Listen, I was wondering... When do you think the report will be ready?"

Sam stopped in the middle of the room and narrowed his eyes. "I'm working on it."

"Huh." Harry drummed his fingers on his chin. "It usually takes you a lot less to hand them in. I mean... It's been two weeks."

Fire seemed to fill Sam's veins, but he fought to extinguish it. Harry was right, but it didn't bother him any less that he was pointing it out. Especially because he knew what the little incursion had cost them.

"Just two weeks," he said between his teeth. "It's not that easy this time."

Harry straightened. "Why not?"

It was a simple, legitimate question. It wasn't supposed to make Sam see red, make him resent his former best friend more than ever. But this asshole who'd been his supervisor for the past four years didn't seem to share a single trait with the boy who Sam had considered his closest friend in their youth.

"Because I have to write about my brother's death, you insensitive dipshit!"

Harry clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "We are all aware of that. It's the only reason no one pushed you to have it out."

Until now.

The words didn't need to be said. Sam could read between the lines. Harry didn't care about his report, even if he was maybe curious to read it. The hints were coming from the mysterious higher ups who were done waiting and catering to their feelings.