by Fall, Carly
“I’ll take a shot,” Jovan said.
“Rum for me,” Cohen commented.
Blake smiled. “I’ll stick to my Sprite.”
Noah removed ten small glasses from underneath the bar and lined them up, putting a small amount of amber liquid in all of them.
“Here, Cohen,” he said, pushing the last one toward the male.
Everyone grabbed a glass, and Noah raised his. Justice glanced at his crew, and then at the Saviors, who also lifted theirs.
“May you find peace and happiness in your new home,” Noah stated in their native tongue.
The Saviors agreed, and all tossed their drinks back. Justice did the same, and he saw his friends follow suit out of the corner of his eye.
The liquid burned, setting his throat and stomach on fire. Axel coughed a bit, and he fought back his own reaction to the strong liquid. After a moment, a warm, heavy feeling seemed to melt into his bones and brain, and he grinned. He wished the bunker had held some whiskey along with the seeds.
“Up for another?” Noah asked with a grin.
He set his glass down on the bar, and Noah poured. They clinked glasses, and he drank the liquid in one gulp again. The feeling intensified, and it seemed that all would be right in his world.
Setting the glass down on the bar again, Noah shook his head. “Nope. Can’t give you any more, Justice. Not right now, anyway. Maybe after you have some food on your stomach.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll throw up, pass out, and it will be an ugly mess,” Jovan said.
“Oh.”
“I take it you guys haven’t had much experience with alcohol?”
Justice gazed over at his crew. All shook their heads but they definitely seemed happier than they had a few minutes ago. “No. This is our first time.”
“Dinner’s on,” Hudson said from the doorway.
They all followed him into the dining room.
The large table seemed to stretch for a mile, and Abby directed everyone toward their seats. Justice noticed that she had intermingled his crew among the Saviors and their mates so that none of them sat together. He found himself wedged between Liberty and Alaina.
As he ate, the flavors exploded in his mouth, and he wanted to simply stuff his face instead of eat politely. He loved the roast beef, and wondered why they had never mashed the potatoes they grew in the garden.
He turned to Alaina. “Are you an SR44 female, as well?”
She shook her head and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “No. I’m human, but I’m half-Colonist.”
He stared at her pretty face, surprised once again. “How many half-Colonists are living here?”
“Just Blake and me.”
“It’s okay, Justice,” Liberty said. “She doesn’t bite too hard.”
Liberty and Alaina giggled, and he smiled.
As the dinner went on, Justice felt as if he couldn’t consume another bite, but he kept eating. Glancing around the table, he noticed Titus’ absence, and made a mental note to ask Noah about it later. He understood the mistrust the Saviors had of him, but he needed to convince Noah that Titus was one of the good ones, even if he’d traveled in the wrong pack.
As dinner continued, he listened to Liberty talk about how much she now loved Earth.
“If given a choice, I don’t know if I’d go back now, Justice. I’m very happy here. I love my human form, and all the ways I can change it.”
“Change it?”
“Piercings, tattoos, changing my hair color … it’s really all so much fun. I also love riding my motorcycle with Jovan.”
“Motorcycle?” he asked, surprised. He’d see them a few times, but he couldn’t imagine a small, delicate female such as Liberty on one.
She grinned, and her eyes twinkled. “Oh, yes. Riding Riley is the best.”
“Riley?”
“She named her motorcycle,” Alaina said. “And here’s fair warning—don’t get on that thing with her. She’ll scare the living hell out of you.”
Liberty threw her head back and laughed.
“Seriously, don’t get on that bike with her.”
“I would think as a half-breed, you’d have a little less fear than most,” Liberty teased as she sipped her wine.
Although she harassed Alaina about her heritage, he could see the love radiating from her face.
“Don’t you dare get me worked up, little girl,” Alaina growled, trying to sound evil. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
They both giggled again, and Justice couldn’t help but chuckle himself.
He turned back to Liberty, and her dark eyes slowly turned light pink, her SR44 color. Glancing around the table, he found that the rest of the SR44ians eyes glowed as well. It felt good to be among his own people and he was glad his crew seemed to be enjoying themselves as they laughed and talked with the Saviors and their mates. Yet, out of nowhere, a wave of sadness washed over him, and he gazed down at his plate, tears stinging his eyes.
Liberty placed her hand on his forearm.
“It gets easier,” she whispered.
He nodded and stood, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“Thank you,” he mouthed to Noah, and then headed for the elevator in the kitchen.
As he waited, anxious to get to his cot, Noah came up behind him.
“You okay, man?”
Justice nodded. “Yeah. Dinner was great. Just feeling like I need some time alone.”
“Titus is still downstairs. Would you mind taking down a plate for him?”
“Of course not.”
Noah went the refrigerator and pulled out a plate piled high with food. “Give this to him.”
“You can’t keep him down there forever, Noah.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I know. You say he’s a good guy, and I know from experience he’s a bastard. I’m having some trouble bringing the two views together and finding the truth.”
Justice stepped into the elevator. “Well, maybe you should sit down with him and have Jovan and Liberty there to check him for truth. I have a feeling he’s just guilty by association.”
Noah sighed. “Yeah, I probably should, but I wanted to talk with you a little more about it. You and I also need to have a chat about what your future looks like here.”
“Okay. When?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.”
The door shut, and the noise from the gathering disappeared. Alone with just his thoughts, he became uncomfortable. The others provided a distraction from his reflections.
He really wanted to head home, but instead, he needed to concentrate on finding happiness here.
Chapter 12
Holly sighed as she pulled into the parking space of the apartment complex. Rarely did she actually find a spot in the parking lot, so getting one put her in a happy mood. Gathering her three bags of Taco Bell, she hoped she could get her older brother, Billy, to eat something tonight. It seemed as if he wasted away before her very eyes.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor apartment they shared, wishing they could afford something a little bit nicer. They could if Billy got a job, but in his current state, he couldn’t.
Just like her, he’d followed in their father’s and grandfather’s footsteps and entered the military at the age of eighteen. He’d seen a lot of combat in his tours in the Middle East, and at the ripe old age of thirty, he’d been medically discharged with severe PTSD and depression. Despite the medicine and his weekly visits with the counselors at the Veteran’s Hospital, he didn’t seem to improve. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of progress, like when he slept more than two hours at a time, or didn’t wake in a cold sweat, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The doctors had been trying different medications on him, and the counselor worked relentlessly to get him back to living his life, but in her heart, Holly knew he’d simply given up.
He went through the motions of taking his pills and goin
g to his weekly meetings with the therapist, but he had no interest in living. The only thing he seemed to enjoy was online gambling. If she put her foot down and told him to stop, they could use his pension and live a little better, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to take away the one thing that made him smile.
She unlocked the door and flicked on the light. Billy preferred to be in the dark, and he sat in front of the television with the shades drawn all day long. Sometimes, he watched TV; sometimes, he just stared into space.
She wrinkled her nose as the scent of body odor assaulted her. Billy lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
“Hi, Billy. How was your day?”
“Fine.”
She walked into the kitchen and noted a dirty plate in the sink. At least, he’d eaten something during the day.
Pulling out two other plates, she loaded his up with tacos and nachos. “I brought home Taco Bell.”
“Great.”
He sounded as excited as if she’d just announced she had a wart.
Sighing, she brought the plates over to him.
“Sit up so I can sit down, please,” she grumbled, giving his leg a nudge.
Slowly, he brought his thin frame to a sitting position on the ratty, brown couch. She recalled a time when he packed on almost two hundred pounds of solid muscle on his five-foot-ten body, and now, she wondered if he even hit one-fifty on the scales.
Grabbing the remote, she turned on the television and flipped channels until the news came on. Half-listening, she contemplated her situation.
Billy’s therapist said she had become his enabler by allowing him to wallow in his self-pity and depression. Dr. Teller had told her that she needed to practice some tough love with Billy in order to get him on the road to recovery.
Glancing over at him, she thought about the past two years since his last tour. They’d lost both parents to cancer within the two year’s time, which had only seemed to send Billy spiraling down even farther into the dark abyss. The past two years had been horrible for both of them, and she grinned at him, thankful that they sat together on the couch. Sometimes, it seemed like it was just the two of them against the world, and at the age of twenty-five, she felt much older than her years.
Their mother’s diagnosis had come first as her parents tried to help Billy and cared for him. Holly had stepped in and driven her mother to chemo, helped around the house, and tried to comfort her father all while holding down her job in the military.
Her father discovered he had advanced pancreatic cancer a year later. Despite the chemo and radiation, he’d been gone within four months. As she’d tried to comfort her mother, help take care of Billy, and figure out the household finances her mother had never been privy to, she had felt as though her appreciation for life drained away a little bit each day.
When her mother passed, the pressure of her life had weighed on her, almost crippling her. It had been up to her to deal with her parent’s meager estate, make sure Billy got to his appointments on time and took his medicine. At times, it seemed she’d been given a child as Billy slid farther and farther into depression. Maybe she did enable him, but in her point of view, the last two years had been about nothing but surviving. Somehow, they’d finally reached a place where she felt like she could breathe most of the time. She didn’t excel as his caretaker, but she did the best she could. Most of the time, she looked around their crappy apartment and wanted to give him more, but right now, she didn’t have the energy or resources to do so. That led to guilt, an emotion she tried to ignore.
Finishing her taco, she crumpled up the paper and decided she needed to move. She stood. “I’m going for a run. Do you want to go?”
Billy didn’t bother to look at her, but simply shook his head. His blond hair that had once been cut in a short, military style now hung to his shoulders in greasy strands. He didn’t like beards, so he at least shaved every couple of days. His dull eyes stared at the television.
“Billy, I need you to take a shower while I’m gone, okay?”
He said nothing, and she moved into his line of sight and repeated herself.
“All right. I will.”
“Thank you,” she said with a grin, and kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
After changing, she checked on him once again. His head lay to the left, his eyes shut, and she realized he hadn’t eaten anything on his plate. Soft snores emanated from his lips, and she sighed as she shut the door behind her. Maybe he did need to go into some type of mental facility. She’d mentioned it more than once to his counselor, who had brushed off her concerns.
Taking a deep breath, she started off at a jog. They lived in downtown Phoenix so that they remained close to the VA Hospital. After a couple of blocks, she picked up the pace.
Glancing around, she jumped to the top of the garbage can and flew through the air to grab a tree branch. She swung, then landed on the cement, rolling as she hit the ground on her shoulder and continued on her way, her heart pounding, a smile on her face as the endorphins raced through her body.
She’d discovered Parkour shortly after her mother’s diagnosis. One night when she’d drunk a bottle of wine and aimlessly trolled the internet, she’d come across a video of women who used the cityscape as their own personal playgrounds. They’d jumped from rooftop to rooftop, scaled fire escapes, done flips from raised flowerbeds, and run like the wind.
Tears had streamed down her face as she’d watched the videos. The women had looked so free, so happy, so unafraid. She’d wanted that, and the next day, she had signed up for a Parkour class.
“Welcome to your urban playground!” the woman in charge had yelled. “For those new to the class, follow along. The only rules are to be safe and have fun!”
Holly had stayed behind the pack of ten women, watching and learning as they’d moved through the city, using everything they could to jump and climb. She’d copied a couple of them as they’d hurdled from benches and bounced off bus stop shelters. Then they’d moved to the rooftops.
“The cops hate this,” the instructor had said. “So watch your footing, keep quiet, and be careful!”
As she’d flown from rooftop to rooftop, then scaled down a fire escape, she’d known she’d found her own way of getting away from her life, even if only for an hour or so a day.
Tonight, she ran hard, making sure to stay off the main streets where the police would be patrolling. They hated the anarchist look of Parkour and usually gave warning to those they caught. A small voice inside her head reminded her of the rise of unsolved murders in the city, but she couldn’t stop. She figured those being murdered had been docile, not swinging from a flagpole and flipping to the ground.
She also pushed aside the surprise she’d had at the bunker earlier. Who had those men been? What were their names? Lieutenant Justice and … what had the other guy’s name been? She couldn’t remember. However, Justice’s face seemed to be burned into her memory. That inky-black skin, his full lips, and dark eyes had definitely made an impression on her. His mannerisms and huge, hard body had screamed sex and power, and for a brief second, she’d wondered what it would be like to be with a man like him, someone with such confidence. Quickly, she pushed the though aside. She had no business imagining rolling around naked with a damn military lieu.
Had they told her the truth about why they were there? She had her doubts, but right now, it didn’t matter.
She concentrated on the pavement before her. She needed this freedom and the exertion like she needed the blood pumping through her body or the air she breathed. It kept her alive. No, her life definitely didn’t consist of roses and kittens, but as she powered through the city, alert to anyway she could soar through the air, it felt like it, even if for a short time.
Chapter 13
Justice arrived in the War Room for his meeting with Noah and took a chair, the leather creaking under his substantial frame. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.
He’d gotten li
ttle sleep through the night, and had risen early to go for a run through the desert. He figured if he would be staying in his human form for the rest of his years, he better take care of it.
“Good morning,” Noah said as he walked into the room. “Sorry I’m late. Let’s get started.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Justice asked.
“They aren’t invited. I wanted the two of us to have a chat before we included anyone else. Make sure we’re on the same page.”
Made sense. He’d heard a saying of, ‘too many cooks spoil the pot,’ and he guessed that’s what Noah meant. In his experience as a leader, it always seemed best to have a general plan of action of the desired outcome before approaching the troops.
“Justice, what do you feel your future looks like here? Have you given it any thought?”
“Not really. Honestly, I’m just trying to get past the news of SR44.”
“Well, here’s what I’m thinking.”
Noah laid out his plan.
As Justice and his crew had all been military on SR44, except for Macy, Noah wanted them to consider joining forces with the Saviors in fighting the Colonists and their offspring. More numbers on the good guys’ side meant better results, as far as Noah was concerned. “It’ll give all of you a purpose. We can work with you to hone your fighting skills.”
Justice nodded and silently stared at Noah. He had always been a man who needed a purpose in life, and Noah offered him one. Would the rest of his group feel the same? And what about Macy? She didn’t have the will or the fortitude to fight anyone.
“And Macy?” he asked.
Noah grinned. “We always need another Healer around here. Cohen is our Healer, and Hudson’s mate, Beverly, is a doctor. She helps Cohen, but even with the two of them, they are running ragged with sick kids, pregnancies, and stuff like that on top of the injuries sustained while fighting.”
A little tingle of excitement raced through him. If he and his crew joined forces with the Saviors, they would be doing something good. There may not be anything to go home to, but they would still be honorable SR44 males fighting the most horrible part of their race—the Colonists.
