ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) by Brooke Sivendra Page A

another body—one dressed in a suit with his hand over his face. Despite not being able to view him properly, she knew it was James Thomas. He made it look incidental, but Mak thought it was a completely intentional move—it was like he knew where the camera was and he didn’t want to have his photo taken.
    So, Zahra and Jayce knew nothing about him, and the Internet—the holy Mecca of information—knew nothing about him, either.
    Who are you, James Thomas?

CHAPTER SIX –
JAMES THOMAS
    James took the stairs two at a time until he reached the rooftop. The bulletproof glass dome that sat above the Thomas Security headquarters was the safest place to get a sense of being outside, without actually being outside. It had been a luxury to build it, but they spent more time up there than anywhere else.
    James spotted Deacon lying on the lounge chair, gazing up at the stars. It had been two days since they’d spoken—the longest James could ever remember.
    He walked forward and sat on the spare lounge chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
    “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you,” James said. No secrets was one of the few other rules they had.
    Deacon sighed and sat up to face James.
    “Just so you realize, she’s a distraction is code for I want to get in bed and fuck this girl’s brains out for three months. And even that we know is a bad idea. It isn’t code for I can’t stop thinking about this girl,” Deacon said.
    “I know,” James said, frowning.
    “I’m sorry about what I said…You’re not a bad person, James,” Deacon said.
    “No, you’re right—that is who I am. I can justify it all I want: the military or the agency ordered it, I was being hunted, whatever. At the end of the day I’ve killed hundreds of people and the reality is that I don’t feel any remorse. I am the kind of man she hates.”
    “You’re not. We might be the kind of guys who think our crimes should go unpunished, and that the laws don’t apply to us—Samuel in particular,” Deacon said, smirking. “But we don’t do these things out of greed. The men we hurt deserve it. I like to think of us as a balancing force in this world. If I didn’t, I’d probably hate myself so much I’d take my own life.”
    It was the difference between them. Deacon reflected on life, analyzed the things he’d done, questioned the orders and motives of the military. James didn’t—he didn’t look back at all. What was the point?
    “Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with Paris?” Deacon asked. “You say you’re fine, and you act like nothing has changed, but it has. And no one can possibly go through something so traumatic without it having an impact of some kind. You can talk to me about this, James. You don’t have to deal with it on your own.”
    “I know that I can, but there’s simply no point in reliving it over and over again. I made a mistake, a grave one, and I have to live with that, but it doesn’t mean I should wallow in my grief every day,” James said.
    “I’m not saying you should, but something like that takes time to get over, and you’re not giving yourself any time,” Deacon said, searching James’ eyes.
    Deacon shook his head. “Nicole’s death was years ago and I still remember it so vividly.” Deacon scrunched his face up as the vision pained him. “I see five men raping her until she’s a bloody mess, and then mutilate her until she passes out from the pain. I see it all, and worst of all I remember lying there, incapacitated. They made me watch when they knew I couldn’t do anything. I see her eyes pleading with me, begging me to help her, and I couldn’t.”
    James knew that Deacon still relived the horror of Nicole’s death because every now and then his screams penetrated the walls of their apartments in the dark hours of the night. James doubted Deacon would ever fully heal, not when he held on to so much regret.
    “It wasn’t worth it, James. I think of the beautiful