Nick’s thoughts were thrumming like a live wire, exposed and crackling. He needed to do more, figure out a way to better help Seth. The news reports were cautious when it came to Pyro Storm, as if they didn’t believe he was a hero, even though he’d saved countless people. Owen’s shadow still stretched long over the city. There had to be a way to get people on their side. “Branding,” Nick muttered to himself. “If Seth continues to be Pyro Storm, he needs to have brand recognition.” He opened the notepad app on his phone and began to jot down ideas. A Twitter account from Pyro Storm’s point of view? That’d be killer. Merch, definitely. Maybe even Instagram, which Jazz could run since her Insta was all black-and-white photos, and everyone knew black-and-white photos were tasteful as hell.
He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, lost in thought about how he could get the tide to turn in Pyro Storm’s favor, all while grappling with what had happened at the Gray house. Trey’s and Aysha’s words rang in his ears.
Nick almost dropped his phone as he crashed into what felt like a solid wall. He stumbled back, ready—like a true citizen of Nova City—to snap at whoever had gotten in his way. The words died in his throat as he saw a man made purely of muscle standing in front of him in a dark suit, flecks of snow falling on his military crewcut.
“Nicholas Bell?” the man rumbled.
Nick eyed him warily. “Are you a fan wanting my autograph, or someone who wants to kidnap me? Either way, I’m going to need to reach into my bag to grab my pen for writing or stabbing.”
The man didn’t respond. He took a step toward the busy street, where a black limousine was parked against the curb. He opened one of the rear doors. “Get in.”
“Wow,” Nick said. “As much as I enjoy strange men asking me to get into their limos, I think I’m gonna pass. I’m sure whatever plot you have going on in that oversized head of yours would have been properly terrifying.” He was about to turn and walk away when the man grabbed his arm, grip tight. Nick glared up at him. “Dude. Not cool. I didn’t invite you to touch me. Seriously, back off before I literally stab your liver. I work out, okay?”
A low laugh came from the dark interior of the limo. Nick thought he recognized it, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Get in,” the man said, shoving him toward the open door.
“If you’re kidnapping me, you’re doing a shit job,” Nick said, raising his voice. “There are a couple dozen witnesses. You, sir! Yes, you. Memorize our faces because—”
“Mr. Bell,” a smooth voice came from inside the limo. “Enough with the theatrics. I’m not in the business of kidnapping. I only want a word. I’ll even drop you off at home, if you’d like.”
And oh, Nick knew that voice.
All the fight drained out of him. He didn’t struggle as the man shoved him inside the limo. Nick stumbled, falling to his knees. He squinted against the low light as the door slammed shut behind him. It was warm in here. Too warm.
The rear of the limo had a row of leather seats against the driver’s side, making an L-shape across the back. And sitting right in front of him was one of the few people Nick wished he’d never had to see again, for as long as he lived.
He was broad-shouldered, his suit black and expensive, his tie blue. One of his legs was crossed over the other, the tip of his dress shoe bouncing slowly up and down. His hair was thick and wavy with streaks of gray. He smiled, and in it, Nick could see echoes of his son, cold and devastatingly handsome. The chill he felt had nothing to do with the cold winter day just outside the limo.
“Hello, Nicholas,” Simon Burke said. “Have a seat. This won’t take long.”
Nick was about to tell him to go to hell when the limo pulled away from the curb, causing him to almost fall over again. He went to the back of the limo, trying to get as far away from Burke as possible. He settled on the seat, holding his backpack in his lap. “I have Mace,” he announced. “And I know how to use it.”
“Good to know,” Burke said, his smile only growing. “I think you’ll find it entirely unnecessary.”
“What do you want?”
“I was driving by and I thought, oh my, that looks just like my son’s former boyfriend. And I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. We haven’t had a chance to talk, you and I, and that simply won’t do. We’re tied together in ways you can’t even begin to understand.”
Nick scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Go, to hell, you weirdo.”
Burke chuckled. “Feisty, aren’t you? I bet your father has his hands full with you. How is he, by the way? I haven’t had an opportunity to catch up with my old friend in a while. I heard about his new position as the head of the Extraordinaries Division. Good for him.”
That stopped Nick cold. “‘Old friend’? What are you talking about? You’re not anyone’s friend, much less my dad’s.”
Burke laughed, and Nick struggled not to flinch. He sounded just like his son. “Didn’t you know? Why, I’m surprised he never told you, though I suppose recent … events would make him less likely to speak of it.” He clucked his tongue. “Your parents and I used to be friends, back in the day. In fact, you could say we were more than friends.”
And since Nick was Nick, he said, “You were in a three-way relationship with my parents? Oh my god, why would you tell me that?”
Burke squinted at him. “No, though it’s curious that’s where your mind went. I’m afraid my tastes don’t extend to the same sex.” His smile softened, and for a moment, he almost looked … human. It only increased the alarm bells ringing in Nick’s head. “I dated your mother for a time, while we were all at college. It wasn’t long, but it was good. A lovely woman, Jenny Warren. But like some things, it wasn’t meant to last. She met your father, and that was that. At the campus library, if I recall. She quite literally fell into his arms. Who was I to stand in their way, especially since I, too, came to care for Aaron? Their connection was undeniable, and they offered each other things I could not.”
Nick’s jaw ached as he ground his teeth together. Hearing his mother’s name coming from Simon Burke set him on edge. “What did you do?”
Burke looked taken aback as the limo rolled over a couple of potholes. “Pardon?”
“I never heard them talk about you,” Nick said coolly. “Not once. Not when she was alive, or after she died. You weren’t at the service we had for her. And the only time I heard about you from Dad was after your psycho son tried to kill me and my friends, so you must have done something.”
“Ah,” Burke said. “Curious. I’m afraid I don’t have a satisfactory answer for you, other than to say paths diverge. Perhaps that’s something you should talk to your father about. I’m sure it would be enlightening.”
Secrets. It always came back to secrets. They’d agreed to be honest with each other, but today had shown just how little Nick knew. Struggling to keep his expression blank, he looked out the window, recognizing the streets around them. They appeared to be heading toward his house, though Nick hadn’t given them an address. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not. “Uh-huh. Question: Do you know anybody on the Nobel Prize committee?”