Nick disentangled himself from the chair, but he did it slowly, and the room didn’t get any warmer until he’d pushed past Michael to step into the hallway.

He didn’t glance back once. Not like Gabriel was looking.

Michael remained in the doorway. Gabriel didn’t want to look at him, either.

“You’re home,” said Michael.

“Yeah.” Gabriel picked at a thread on the cuff of his jeans.

“Not out destroying any lives tonight.”

“Very funny.”

“How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Michael paused. “I was trying to make sure they’re not still investigating you.”

For some reason, that was infuriating. “So you’re just string-ing her along to find out what she knows? Christ, Michael, that’s kind of a dickhead move ”

“You want to tell me what’s really going on?”

“There’s nothing going on.” At least this was a brother he could fight with. Gabriel stood. Got close. “I’m home. Go spend your worry on someone else.”

Michael didn’t move.

Gabriel shoved him. “Go. ”

He watched Michael draw himself up, ready to hit back. But then his brother just shifted toward the door. “Thanks.”

Nonplussed, Gabriel stared after him. “For what?”

His brother paused with the door halfway closed. “For coming home. I’m glad you did.”

Then the door clicked shut, closing Gabriel in.

And closing his brothers out.

CHAPTER 25

Saturdays usually meant landscaping work with Michael.

The hell with that.

Since he had the car keys, Gabriel was out the door before anyone else was up. He threw the duffel bag in the backseat, just in case. Nick could use those college-bound brains to figure out a way to get around.

Gabriel grabbed a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Dunkin’ Donuts, but that didn’t kill any more than fifteen minutes. He decided to test the bounds of friendship.

Do you want to practice today?

Hunter’s return text took a minute.

Are you seriously texting me at 6 am?

Gabriel smiled.

Thought you might be up for a 10 mile run before we

light hay bales on fire. Go back to bed, slacker.

He set the phone down and took another sip of coffee.

His phone chimed almost immediately. Gabriel glanced at the display and nearly choked on that sip.

Sounds good. Give me 15 mins.

They ran on the B&A Trail, a paved track that stretched from Annapolis nearly to Baltimore. This early in the morning, it was mostly deserted aside from a few lone cyclists and joggers out to take advantage of the chill in the air.

After the fourth mile, Gabriel glanced over. Hunter had looked a little bleary eyed when he’d picked him up, and he hadn’t said much in the car, but he was keeping up without any trouble.

Then again, they weren’t breaking any records. “You know, I was kidding,” said Gabriel. “We don’t have to run ten miles.”

Hunter didn’t slow. “What, you’re tired already?”

Gabriel was, a little. He’d run hard yesterday, and he was going on his third restless night.

“Just making sure you can keep up. Thought you might have had a late night with Calla Dean.”

A wry glance. “Don’t worry.” Then Hunter stepped up the pace.

Bastard. Gabriel pushed to keep up. He was fit. He could do this, no problem.

“You know,” he said, “Becca tried to talk to me last night.”

He glanced over. “About the fires.”

“She tries to talk to me, too.” A pause to catch his breath.

“She wants to know if I know what you’re doing.”

“What do you tell her?”

“I tell her you suck at Xbox.” Another pause, another break for breath. “I think her dad’s putting pressure on her.”

“Because of the Guides?”

“Yeah. But we’re being careful.”

“Are you worried?”

“Does it matter? I can’t sit around doing nothing. Could you?”

Gabriel thought about that for a minute. “No. I couldn’t.”

Then he had to shut up, because Hunter stepped up the pace again.

Beyond the seventh mile, Gabriel was really starting to feel it.

They were holding a seven-minute-mile pace, and his legs ached.

His lungs burned. That stitch in his side that had been a minor irritant at mile three now felt like a red-hot iron poker.

The one time he wanted to pull energy from the sun, and the sky was overcast.

“If you want to stop,” said Hunter, with zero strain in his voice, “I can swing back for you when I’m done.”

“We’ll see who’s lying in a pile at the end of the trail.”

“Race you to the car?”

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you at the car.”

And then, though his legs screamed in protest, Gabriel leapt forward into a sprint.

Damn, it felt good to compete, to do something he could control. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss the easy camaraderie of a team, the physical strain of working toward one common purpose. On the field or on the course, or hell, here on the trail, the objective was clear. Make a basket. Put the ball in the goal. Win the race.

Pass the test?

Gabriel wondered if that’s why this guy was starting these fires. It was so much easier to send things on a path toward destruction.