Free Who Knows the Dark by Tere Michaels Page B

principal’s nephew. All of this is on the down-low because this is a moral, Bible-devout place, and all sin must take place in dark corners.
    It’s the law.
    Cade regains his confidence—his cockiness. He has superpowers all right, and the boys—especially the ones who play straight and mighty—can’t get enough.
    He gets lax in that down-low part.
    He gets brazen in the way he dresses and the way he gives the once-over to cute boys walking down the halls. The girls love him, protect him. The boys leave him alone, lest he reveal their secrets.
    Everything is fine. Until his father finds out.
    Whatever Cade had imagined, whatever he’d read in books or seen in horrible social-issue-of-the-week movies—it didn’t prepare him for his father’s reaction. No shotguns or threats, not even angry words. Just a look of disgust when he finds Cade and Louis Baker half-dressed in the barn loft.
    And then it is never mentioned again.
    His father’s silence is loud—it reverberates through the house every time he found something to disapprove.
    “Fuck you, old man” is Cade’s only sentiment when he leaves for New York. His father doesn’t bother to respond.
     
     
    T HE FIRE road hadn’t changed much—Cade had fond memories of keggers and blowing half the football team back here, but he didn’t bring that up to Sam as the truck rattled the last few miles through the trees and up into the old barn sitting on the edge of the Creel Farm. The double doors were open, so Cade just maneuvered inside.
    “Great job,” Sam said enthusiastically before smothering a cough in his hand.
    Cade shut off the truck, and almost immediately cold began to seep in through the cracks in the window.
    “All right, well. Here we are.” Cade ran his hands through his hair and didn’t bother to consult the mirror. Hot mess, with a side of home with your tail between your legs. He didn’t have to look pretty for this.
    He opened the door, then jumped out, hay and dust kicking up as he landed. “Stay in the truck,” he called back to Sam. “Just hang on, okay?”
    Sam gave him the thumbs-up.
    After slamming the door behind him, Cade headed for the back of the truck. The doors were open, and Nox was already out, gun drawn. Mason followed, with Rachel and Damian bringing up the rear.
    “Oh my God, where the hell are we?” Rachel muttered, brushing hay and dust and whatever the hell was in the back of that truck off her jeans.
    “Welcome to Creel Farm, in lovely Gaiterville, South Carolina. You’ll very shortly meet my awesome mom, my endlessly disapproving father, and whatever mood my brother is in this week,” Cade said cheerfully. “Someone needs to carry Sam through this lung-murdering muck—I’m assuming Mason will volunteer.”
    “Can I go back to the place where people are trying to kill us?”
    Nox turned around slowly. “You know, I can take care of that right now, Rachel.”
    “Hey, Damian, stand between these two until I get back. Please.” Cade got about three steps outside the barn before footsteps alerted him to the fact that their arrival had indeed been noticed.
    “Caden!” His mother flew through the dark, and Cade didn’t even hide the fact that he ran toward her. In a few steps, she was hugging him tightly—and the welcome scent of her perfume drew tears to his eyes.
    Home sure as hell didn’t mean this farm, but her hug was everything he needed right now.
    “Oh my God, I was so scared when those men showed up,” Amelia Creel gasped. She pulled back enough to look up into his face, scanning him alertly for any signs of distress. He knew that look—it was the entire reason he’d known where they needed to go.
    “I’m so sorry they came here, Momma, but it’s okay now. We’re going to straighten it out,” he lied, even as she touched his face gently.
    “You look like you haven’t slept.”
    “Understatement, but we’ll fix that too,” he said, smiling. “I need to get everyone into the house,