by N. C. Reed
“Are you saying I can't trust him?” Clay demanded.
“I'm saying you need to ask your grandfather exactly how it is he came to know my brother.”
***
“Your brother!” Leon screeched. “Wait. Is that what he called you? Before you left?”
“In French,” Brick nodded his head slowly. “Frère. One of several languages we were both taught to speak. He told me not leave on his account. I replied in German that it must be the end of the world for him to call me that. I have not seen him in years but he is indeed my younger brother.”
“How in the hell do two brothers end up facin' off like you two just did?” Leon asked. “I mean . . . Gordon fought with his older brother, God rest him, and Robert and Clayton fought like cats and dogs even though Robert is a lot older. But never did I see them looking at one another like you two was.”
“As I said before, it is a long, old story,” Brick sighed tiredly. He suddenly looked older. “I'm sure he thought me dead. No doubt hoped for it. It is his way,” he shrugged.
“Brick,” Leon said carefully, “just how bad is this?”
Brick looked at Leon quietly for a moment before replying.
“One of us will have to go.”
***
“What do you mean 'one of you has to go'?” Shane frowned. “What kinda shit is that? This is a big place ain't it? Just . . . stay away from each other.”
“If I know where he is, then I will try to kill him,” Xavier didn't yield an inch. “Something of which he is acutely aware. Thus he will look to kill me first. The two of us cannot remain in the same place, or even in the same area. He was here first,” he looked at Clay, then. “I will leave if you wish. I have been alone before. It is not a burden.”
“For fuck's sake,” Clay swore, his tone bitter. “Can you stop playing the martyr long enough to tell us what in the actual fires of hell this is about?”
***
“Did I ever tell you how I came to be . . . to have the skills which first brought me to your attention?” Brick asked Leon.
“No,” the Old Man admitted. “I never asked that I know of. Didn't reckon it was no never mind between us.”
“I appreciate that,” Brick nodded. “More than simple words may reflect. One of the things I always admired about you Leon was your ability to see the gray. Most see the world as black or white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. You know, as do I, that it is never so simple as that.”
“That's true,” Leon nodded slowly. “Been a bone of contention 'tween me and Gordon on many occasion. I think that's one reason me and the boy . . . Clayton, is so close. He sees things the same way.”
“Yes,” Brick nodded firmly. “He has a moral code that he follows rigidly, but it is not necessarily the same code that the rest of the world would consider proper. I suppose one of the things Xavier and I share in common is the ability to see that gray.” He paused, clearly deciding what to say next.
“You know that I once was engaged to be married,” he said finally. Leon nodded. “You also know that she was killed. What you don't know is that she was murdered. Killed by a terrorist hired by a foreigner to kill a diplomat that was visiting Georgetown. He killed eight people including my Yasmine, but oddly enough he missed his target.”
“Damn,” Leon grunted.
“I admit I was . . . not in a good place,” Brick continued. “Grief does strange things to the mind, as you are all too aware. In my grief I . . . made a choice that there was no returning from. With the benefit of hindsight I can see that perhaps it was not the proper choice, but at the time all I could see was a need for revenge. When I had the opportunity, I took it.
“But one does not simply become an assassin and then return to his old life, Leon. One cannot turn his back on his family for such a reason and then just return to them as if nothing has happened. My father, he understood of course. Would have done the same thing had it been my mother. But . . . my mother . . . my mother was one of those people who believed that the law must be obeyed no matter what. I always respected her for following the law herself. For practicing as she preached, so the old saying goes. She never exceeded the speed limit, never ran a red light or rolled through a stop sign, she would scold us even for returning a library book late. Said that breaking even the smallest of rules was a slippery slope, that society needed the rule of law to function properly. As it turns out, she knew what she was talking about.
“I had been working freelance for about four years when someone got a picture of me. Not a good one, really, but then I am rather distinctive, and a mother knows her child, no? Somehow my mother saw it, I don't know just how. On the news I suppose. My father simply shrugged and went back to what he was doing. My mother did not take it nearly so well, I'm afraid.
***
“When my mother realized that her oldest son had become an assassin for hire it broke her heart,” Xavier told them. “I suppose she may have loved Byron more than me, as he was her first born. Science and myth both claim there is a closer bond between the oldest and the mother, but since I am not the oldest I would not know.
“My father was like me, like us I should say since he still lives,” Xavier almost spat. “Cold, calculating, he made his decisions just as he would solve a math problem. Do not pretend,” he chided two men he actually considered not only friends but brothers as they looked uncomfortable. “I have seen your reactions to me, how you look at me sometimes. Do you not think I realize I am defective? We both are. We were born that way thanks to my father's genetic make up. A product of the perfect home,” he smiled bitterly.
“My father simply looked to see if Byron was successful or not and then moved on. He already knew what Byron was doing, had from the start. Probably helped him get started for that matter. And had he stopped with his own need for revenge, I think even my mother would have understood. She would have been angry, of course, but I think she would have understood. She loved Yasmine dearly and looked forward to her becoming part of the family.
“But once opened, flood gates like that are difficult to close, no? I should think I'm proof enough of that.”
***
“Had I gone back and then been recognized somehow, it would have brought shame to my family,” said Brick. “Especially my mother.” Janice has entered the room long enough to pour them both a cup of coffee before heading for the radio room. Corey Raynard had walked up to escort her down, leaving the two of them alone once more.
“So . . . I simply continued down the path I had started. It never bothered me any, you know. Killing has never been a problem for me. I can see that Xavier is the same so it's likely genetic. Our father was not unkind, but he was uncaring. He had his responsibilities as he saw them, and he met them if not exceeded them, but . . . it was duty to him. I think he loved my mother, and he may have even loved Xavier and I after a fashion, but he was utterly incapable of showing it, my mother the lone exception. I suspect that my father was a high-functioning sociopath, as I believe myself to be. Just as I suspect my younger brother could be, if not worse. I am sure that modern geneticists would have a field day examining the three of us, were they still able to do so properly. Regardless, my father had no care for what I was doing, nor did he worry about my bringing shame upon him. So long as I was good at what I did, nothing else mattered. And I was very good.”
“That you were,” Leon sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. “Brick, this is a damn mess. We can't have the two of you at each other’s throats like this.”
“No,” Brick agreed. “As I said, one of us will have to go. I made you a promise, Leon, that I would be here for Clayton, and for Lainie. Under the circumstances however, I believe it would be best for me to depart. Xavier is obviously close to Clay and the others, and his skills will be useful to you here. He is part of a team whereas I have never been anything but alone.”
“No,” Leon said at once. “No. I refuse to accept that this is the only answer. With the world in the shape it's
in right now, surely the two if you can lay this aside. You ain't got to be family but surely you can be civil to one another!”
“We do not do civil, Leon,” Brick said easily. “You just saw us as civil as we get. The last time we saw one another he tried very hard to stab me.”
***
“Pity he was wearing that vest,” Xavier almost purred. “It would have been a perfect strike. Right through the heart.”
“X, do you realize how fucked up that is?” Shane asked softly. “To hear you talking like that about your own brother?”
“I don't get it,” Clay shook his head, turning to face Xavier again. “I don't. I get that your mother was disappointed, I do. God knows mine was in me. Probably still is,” he admitted. “And I get the older brother thing, too. I was way younger than even Alicia, though, so I really was the baby in the family. Hell, my brother's oldest is only six years younger than me.”
“But I can't see you not being okay with your brother taking his revenge, even if it did mean walking a path like that afterward. Have you changed that much since then that you're the pot talking bad about the kettle? I mean let’s face it, X, none of us are angels.” Xavier laughed softly at that. Not the booming laughter of before, but soft, mocking laughter.
“You think I actually care that he took revenge for Yasmine? You think I give a righteous damn about any of that? Please,” he scoffed. “I couldn't possibly care any less.”
“My mother, on the other hand . . . imagine having to come to terms with the fact that a child you raised has become an assassin and a mercenary, a killer wanted in half-a-dozen countries. Imagine seeing an image of that child on the television whilst among your oldest friends. The shock of recognizing that the image you were seeing, that they were seeing, was actually your oldest son. Having to look around in secret to see if there was a spark of recognition among them that tied that blurred image to your missing son.”
“I do not know how strong willed your mother is, Clayton,” Xavier looked him in the eye. “My mother was strong willed, but she did not have a strong heart. Nor did she have the mental state necessary to face such a hardship. Not after the shooting, the loss of both of them.”
Oh. Oh, damn.
“It was too much for her to bear, especially considering the lack of support from my father. My mother suffered a heart attack three days after his picture was plastered on every news service in America. She died in her sleep. Crying.”
***
“And he blames me for that,” Brick finished. “Perhaps rightly so. I . . . I gave no thought to what effect such a revelation would have on her. It is as likely as not that the news pushed her already weak heart into arrest. I will never know and I cannot change it. That is something I have to bear for the rest of my life. Unfortunately, Xavier has to bear it as well.”
“Well, shit,” Leon breathed the expletive out heavily. “This has just been one hell of a day, ain't it?”
“Indeed,” Brick got to his feet. “If you will excuse me, I think I will retire for the evening. I am genuinely sorry for this trouble, Leon,” he said after a second of hesitation. “Had I even suspected he would be among your grandson's friends, I would never have come here. I could have made my way in Nashville I'm sure.”
“Stop that horseshit,” Leon demanded at once. “We've known each other a fair few years. I said you were welcome here, and I did that knowing exactly who and what you were. That ain't changed, and won't. I am sorry about your mother,” he added softly. “That . . . that's a hard burden for a man to have to bear.”
“It is what it is,” Brick shrugged. “Goodnight, Leon.”
“Night, Brick.”
***
“Didn't even have the decency to come to the funeral,” Xavier finished. “Of course I should probably be grateful for that. My father just . . . stood there and when it was over, we went home as if it were the funeral of someone else rather than my mother. Went back to work the next day and . . . that was that. Business as usual in the Wentworth household,” he added without thinking.
“Wentworth?” Shane straightened up.
“Well, shit,” Xavier sighed. “I don't suppose you'd be willing to forget you heard that,” he looked at the two of them. “Ah, I doubt it matters now, in any case,” he waved the request off as soon as he had said it.
“Your family name?” Clay asked.
“My father's name,” Xavier nodded. “My mother's maiden name was Adair, and it was part of my full name. It was legal to join the Army under that name.”
“Well that's a relief,” Shane broke the tension. “I was afraid there for a minute you had lied on your enlistment paperwork. We don't need that kind of trouble now of all times.” His sarcasm was thick.
“It sounds as if you came from a well to do family, X,” Clay mused. “No offense, and I mean that, but why in the hell would you join the Army anyway? There had to be a better life for you there, even considering your father. Right?”
“You mean the kind of life you gave up here, Clayton?” Xavier tilted his head slightly as if studying his former commander. “Do not always assume the grass is ever greener. But the answer to your question is rather simple, really. A taste for blood and violence is rather hard to hide or even disguise in the circles I grew up in. Whereas in the Army, especially in counter-terrorism forces, such issues are considered an asset to the team, are they not?”
Both Shane and Clay looked uncomfortable at that, realizing what Xavier was getting at.
“I joined the Army, and eventually the CTG, as an expedient. I was able to . . . alleviate, let us call it, my search for the answer I seek while drawing no attention to myself in the process. Unlike certain gorilla-like buffoons who care nothing at all for appearances or decorum.”
“Answer to what?” Shane asked, stunned by all that he had heard in the last few minutes. Had he ever known his friend at all? Hell, was Xavier even actually his friend? Was he even capable of having friends?
“Answer to the most burning question in my life, of course,” Xavier's smile was empty as it always was. “Why can't I be like you?”
***
Lainie frowned at the distant look on Clay's face as he walked into the cabin, absently setting his rifle down by the door as he removed his boots.
“Something wrong, Cowboy?” she asked, walking over to him.
“Where to start,” he snorted, accepting her embrace and returning it.
“I noticed the exchange between Brick and that other man,” she nodded. “Xavier, wasn't it? Unusual name.”
“Did you know Brick's name was Byron when he worked at the club?” Clay asked. “Or did you learn it here, after we all got here?”
“I knew it, but . . . just because I heard Leon call him that once,” she replied, thinking about it. “He never actually gave more than Brick for a name. Said his last name was House and would laugh about it. Brick House. Get it? I always thought it was a cute pun but never gave any more thought to it than that.”
“Me either, even after I heard his real name,” Clay agreed. “I can't even remember when I heard the name Byron, if I'm honest.”
“What does this have to do with what happened earlier?” she asked.
“This has to stay between you and me for now,” he warned. “I don't know what will come of all this, just yet. So it has to stay here. Okay?”
“Of course,” she nodded, concern growing.
“Well, first off . . . his name isn't House . . . ”
***
Shane walked slowly in the dim lights out to check on their 'guest'. No one was assigned to watch her anymore, not directly, as the ground watch would check on her every so often. If she did escape then the dogs could track her down, no problem, and by now her arms and legs wouldn't be in any shape to get far, regardless.
He wasn't really thinking about her, anyway. His mind was still trying to wrap itself around what Xavier had revealed to him and to Clay. He had known that X was messed up. They all could see
it over the years. No one had judged him for it, though, since most of the rest had issues that ran pretty much as deep. But Shane doubted any of them had known just how bad off Xavier Adair was. He damn sure hadn't. Hadn't had a clue.
He almost stumbled across the woman lying still hogtied on the ground. She was rasping something out to him as he approached, throat obviously strained and dry. Kneeling, he pulled her head back by the hair and placed a plastic cup to her mouth. She drank greedily from it, the precious liquid actually hurting her throat during the first drink or two, she was so dry. He made her drink it all at one go before releasing her hair and standing, leaving the cup on the ground.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
“How many women begged your people that same way?” he asked her quietly.
“I . . . I never had an . . . anything to do with that,” she replied.
“Didn't help them either, though, now did you?” Shane kept going. This was the first time she had admitted to anything at all.
“Cou . . . couldn't,” she shook her head as much as she could. “Same thing would ha . . . happen to me.”
“Uh-huh,” Shane didn't buy it for a second. “Did you object at all? I'm willing to bet your family is a big part of your operation, which means part of keeping women prisoner just like this. Maybe kids, too? There's no way that someone as careless as you acted in the field was given that position on merit. That means nepotism. Father? Uncle? Brother? Somebody got you inside and then had you placed in that position.”
“No,” she shook her head, but he could hear in her voice, weak though it was, that he had hit a nerve. He was at least close if not on target.
“See you tomorrow, toots,” Shane told her, walking away even as she begged him to return.
She wouldn't last much longer. Another day at most.
A day he could spend trying to figure out a way to solve a gargantuan problem that had reared its head from out of nowhere.
CHAPTER FIVE
“We can't get a break for love or money,” Leon growled as he rode around the ranch with Clay in his side-by-side ATV. “Just when things was looking up a little, too.”
