by M. Tasia
He didn’t even turn on the bathroom light, preferring to leave the door open and let the indirect light serve. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he walked by. Yep, he looked like roadkill. Not bothering to stop to get a better look at his new wound or the dried blood covering his body, he walked into the shower.
Within seconds, he stood under the hot water spraying out of the oversized showerhead, and let it beat down on his neck and shoulders, moaning in pain as he tried to reach for his shampoo bottle. With the cut on the right side of his chest and the stitches on his left hand, every small move caused pain. As he always did, he shoved it down and washed himself. He watched the water turn red as the evidence of today’s events flowed down the drain.
He didn’t know how long he’d been standing under there, and usually he wouldn’t care, but he still had to pack his stuff. He dragged his tired, sore body out of the steamy shower stall. As he dried himself off, he wondered where and when his next shower would be. There was a hint of blood on the towel, which forced him to finally stop what he was doing and deal with his injury.
The bathroom mirror kept fogging up no matter how many times he rubbed it with his towel. Too much work. He walked into his bedroom to get a better look in the full-length mirror on the wall. When he finally examined the cut, he had to admit, he might need stitches. The wound had begun bleeding again, but it wasn’t too heavy. He could deal with this. Hell, he’d put himself back together many times. There wasn’t always a med unit available when they were in-country, so he and his team had learned to take care of the little shit themselves.
While he stood there examining the most recent slashes in his flesh, he couldn’t help but notice the other wounds on his body. Everything from shrapnel caused by an IED in his thigh, bullet holes in various locations from enemy fire, to burns he’d sustained while pulling his combat brother out from their blown-up Stryker. It was a roadmap of war. Every one told a different story and location. He didn’t need mementos or pictures of his time spent in the service, he needed only a mirror.
“Oh, my God.” Finn gasped, from behind him.
Shit. James hadn’t remembered to lock the door. No one had ever seen his scars, outside of medical staff and his unit. Every hookup he’d had since returning had been in dark rooms, or the simple matter of undoing his zipper. The only visible scar was the one that ran down the side of his face, which was enough to communicate his state of being.
“Finn, leave.” James didn’t need anyone’s pity, especially his brother’s
“No. You always take care of everything. This time, I’m here to take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of.” James argued, but it appeared his brother wasn’t in the mood to listen as he began removing items from the large medical kit James had left on the bed. “Where the hell did you buy that thing?” It looked better stocked than the ones he’d taken into the field.
Finn hesitated for a moment before saying, “Ross got it for me. You never know what kind of accidents can happen in a restaurant, not to mention the construction zone upstairs.”
“Of course.”
James should’ve known Mr. Responsible would have something to do with it being here.
He threw his wet towel on the end of his bed and searched for his shorts. He didn’t bother covering up since Finn had already gotten an eyeful. As he pulled on his bottoms, there was a knock on his door.
“What the hell?” James grumbled. Was he having a party?
“Don’t worry about it,” Finn assured. “I’ll see what they want.”
While his brother went to the door, James grabbed his canvas duffle bag and set it on the only chair in the room. He needed this night to end and was in serious need of rest, but he had things to finish before giving in to sleep.
Finn came back in and shut the door behind him. Thankfully, he was alone. James raised a questioning brow at his brother.
“It was Miguel checking in to see if we needed anything. He said he’d go out and pick it up for us.” Finn looked hopeful.
“Whiskey.”
He needed something to ease the pain before Finn began poking around in his wound.
“Got it,” Miguel’s muffled voice called from the other side of the door.
His willingness to help further solidified that James had to leave. Not good for anyone to be around him, especially these generous people.
“Lay down and let me have a look at your chest.” Finn ordered while putting on a pair of latex gloves.
“When did you get first aid training?” James asked as he did what Finn had told him.
“Miguel taught me.” Finn answered with a wide smile. “He’s an amazing teacher.”
“Right, the jarhead,” James jibed, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room.
“That’s right, grunt.” Miguel replied as he walked in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
James had given up trying for privacy around here. At this point, what was another pair of eyes?
“Here.” Miguel held out a half-full glass. “Drink up before Finn goes in for a look around.”
“My thoughts exactly.” James agreed before drawing down on the whiskey.
It still amazed him how his little brother had grown up since James had been out of the country. No thanks to him. That guilt was tacked onto the myriad of others.
“Ouch,” James growled. “I wasn’t ready.”
Finn removed the saline soaked gauze from his chest and grinned.
“You did that on purpose, you little shit.”
“Well, you should’ve let the EMT look at it.” Finn continued without missing a beat.
James held out the glass and Miguel obliged. After a couple of deep gulps, warmth spread down his throat and into his belly. That’s better.
“You planning on going somewhere?” Miguel asked as he removed the duffle from the chair and sat down with his own glass.
What was the use in lying? “Yeah. Thought I’d hit the open road for a while.”
“You’re leaving?” Finn’s voice deepened.
“For a little while. I’ll come back and visit. It’s time for me to go find my place in this world.” If that was even possible. “Okay, I’m ready. Dig away.”
Finn looked like he was about to argue, but with a shake of Miguel’s head, he stopped himself. James appreciated it. He didn’t have the energy to defend his decision to leave. He took another drink from his glass before laying his head back.
“So where’ve you been stationed?” Miguel asked, probably in hopes of distracting him.
“From the Sangin District of Helmand Province in Afghanistan, to Somalia and all the hot spots in between. Or at least that’s what it felt like.” James muttered while trying to clear his mind of what Finn was doing. “Different stations, same old, same old.” He emptied his glass and held it out for a refill.
As Miguel refilled the glass, Finn finished with his examination.
“I think I can glue this chest wound shut. It’s a clean slice.”
“Here, here, for Ross having quality kitchen knives.” James raised his whiskey in salute before tipping it back.
He was feeling the whiskey faster than usual. He hadn’t eaten anything other than that damn lollipop, and couldn’t find the energy to care if he sounded like a frat boy.
“You know you’re a hero, right?” Finn asked.
“Hero… shmero. I was in the right place at the right time. Nothing more.”
He didn’t want anyone to buy into that hero shit. In the military, he’d seen real heroes, and as with most of his teammates, not one of them felt that way about themselves. They’d had a job to do and they did it. They moved on to the next mission and did what they had to do.
It seemed Finn wanted to argue the point but he refrained. That worked for James. He wanted to float away into sweet oblivion, on an amber river.
Fuck Ross. Why does it still bother me so much to have heard Ross’s sentiments coming out of hi
s sister’s mouth?
“Maybe because they hurt you,” Finn answered.
“Shit, I’m not drunk enough to have said that out loud.”
“Oh, yeah you are,” Finn assured with a smile as he held the wound closed, allowing the skin glue to set.
A few butterfly bandages and a covering of gauze and James was all patched up. Again.
“Now take it easy for a couple days or that might split back open. You’re already on a round of antibiotics and your tetanus shot was updated this morning.”
“Yes doctor,” James deadpanned.
Finn shook his head. “Now let’s check out those other cuts and the stitches on your hand.”
James shifted to grab his whiskey with his right hand and promptly hissed in pain from the move. He set the glass down on his bed since it was empty anyway and presented Finn with his left hand. After another thorough cleaning and re-bandaging, he was about ready to crash.
“We’ll talk in the morning.” Miguel left with the bottle of whiskey.
Damn.
Finn packed up the first aid kit and brought the covers up over James. “Love you, big brother.”
James was struck with concern. “You know I love you, right?” James never thought to ask. He had been away a long time.
Finn stopped in the doorway and looked back at him with a big smile. “I’ve always known that.”
The light went out and his door shut. Finally, he was alone.
CHAPTER 4
The next morning, James slept in later than he had wanted, but was up and ready to go in no time. One of the many benefits of not having much by way of personal belongings, he travelled light and fast. He was surprised no one had knocked on his door by now. He took a final look around before leaving his room and walking down the hall.
When he turned the corner into a now crowded hub, he knew why they hadn’t bothered him. The usual crew had added two new arrivals, both strangers and definitely cops. They turned to look at him when he entered. At least Ross was nowhere to be found.
“’Morning. You hungry?” Finn asked from the small kitchenette. “I have bacon.”
“Nice try. What’s going on?” James asked, even though he was considering the bacon.
A woman with pitch-black hair introduced herself. “Mr. Masterson, my name is Beverly Hines and I’m a detective with the LAPD.”
She didn’t bother to introduce the guy standing beside her.
“You’ve come to take my statement? That’s good, because I was getting ready to head out.” The quicker he got this over with, the quicker he could put LA behind him. His brother was safe and loved, it was more then he’d had hoped for. So it was time for him to go.”
“I’m Detective Sparks, and I’m sorry to inform you but you can’t leave the city,” the man beside Beverly said, though he didn’t look sorry. “You’re a material witness to a crime and we need to take you into protective custody.”
“No shittin’ way.” James set his bag down on the concrete floor. “I’ll give you my statement and sign it. You need me to come back for trial, I’ll come.”
“A contract has been taken out on you. Avante wants you dead.” Beverly explained.
James looked around the room at the shocked faces. “Why does he want to kill me? How does he even know who I am?”
“You’ve cost him his chance at getting at Ross’s family. Now we’re prepared for him,” Sparks answered. As for how he knows your identity,” the cop shrugged, “we’re still looking into that.”
“How can you be sure Avante took out a contract on my brother?” Finn asked as he came over to stand next to James. “Maybe it’s someone else.”
James didn’t like to the look on his brother’s face. This was bullshit.
Beverly’s face lost some of its steel before she answered Finn. “We have CI’s all over the city that keep us up to date on this type of activity. It’s been confirmed.”
“I’m gonna refuse protective custody. I’m good at taking care of myself.”
James told the cops. They knew he wouldn’t be easy to take down, and iIf he left, he’d draw attention away from his brother and the Gates’s crew.
“You can’t,” Finn exclaimed as he grabbed James’s arm. “I can live with you not staying in LA, but I won’t lose you now that I just got you back.”
Ah shit. His brother’s pleading gaze drained the fight right out of his body. James couldn’t say no to Finn, even after all these years. James remembered how he had hid Finn multiple times when they were younger, which meant harsh punishment, but he’d never cared. Finn was his brother and James would die for him.
Fuck.
So much for his escape from Los Angeles.
“When do we leave?”
***
Ross heard the vehicle pull in, and moved the heavy curtain a sliver to get a look at who was coming up the path. He didn’t know why he bothered checking. Bev had already texted him that they were on their way back with James.
“Standing there looking pissed off is no way to welcome our new housemate.” Jac said as she entered the living room of their safe house.
“I’m not angry. I’m concerned.” Ross muttered as Becca ran over to him with “uppie” hands.
He lifted his niece and cuddled her in his arms. The backdoor opened and he watched Bev walk in through the kitchen, followed by James and Sparks. The moment James laid eyes on Ross, his expression changed from annoyed to flat-out anger.
“What the hell is Ross doing here?” James asked Bev as if Ross wasn’t in the room.
Jac came over to collect her daughter and took Becca down the hall.
“I’m here to protect my family until Avante is caught,” Ross growled.
“I’m out.” James said before turning around and heading for the door.
“You promised your brother,” Bev was quick to point out. “By having the four of you in one place, it’ll make it easier to defend. We won’t have to split up our manpower.”
“Wrong.” James punched his finger at Bev. “I have more experience than the lot of you, and putting everyone together is a clusterfuck.”
“We know what we’re doing.” Sparks waved off his concerns, making James double down.
“Do you? Do you really? Then tell me how having everyone Avante wants dead in one house is a good idea for anyone other than Avante. It’d certainly make his job easier.”
“We have officers stationed around the property and patrolling the roads in this area. You’re completely safe,” Sparks stated.
“I don’t know if you’re being intentionally dense or if it’s a natural occurrence, but this is not safe. I’ve spent years protecting civilians. My team and I kept people safe in war zones. Trust me, all of us in this house is not safe. Fuck, man, the place might as well have a bullseye on its roof.”
“We aren’t in a theater of war. This is our domain and we know what we’re doing. This is the correct protocol to keep everyone safe from Avante,” Sparks argued.
“When will this bullshit stop? When will you people learn and listen to me?”
Sparks shook his head and strode out the room, muttering.
James sighed and his shoulders dropped. “Haven’t I paid enough for one lifetime?”
Ross knew it was a rhetorical question but couldn’t remain silent. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
James spun so fast his duffle almost fell off his shoulder. “Hurt me? You don’t have that kind of power, Detective. Where do I bunk?”
“Upstairs, last door on the right,” Bev answered.
With one final glare, James was up the stairs as if the fires of hell were on his heels.
“Well, that went well.” Jac remarked as she reentered the room. “That has to be one of the lamest apologies I’ve ever heard. Sorry I hurt you. Come on.”
“What?” Ross asked.
It was a damn apology. What the hell else was he supposed to say.
“For the love of God. How about, thank you for saving
my sister and niece, and sorry I’m such a tight ass.” Bev offered, making Jac laugh.
“Fuck all of you.” Ross returned to the paper-strewn dining table. “There are more important things to worry about at the moment.”
“Where’s Becca?” Sparks asked.
***
James threw his duffle on the bed and sat down on a nearby chair that groaned under his weight. Why had he agreed to this? He buried his face in the palms of his hands and saw Finn’s face. That’s why. Moments later, he heard his door opening. James was ready to rip a piece off Ross if he had followed him up to his room.
He looked up, ready to let Ross have it, and quickly changed his expression from anger to confusion. Ross’s niece walked in and came over to him with her hands up. Anyone knows what an uppie looked like, so James obliged and sat her on his knee.
“Hey, darlin’, what’s your name?” James asked the adorable blue-eyed little girl smiling at him.
“Becca.”
“Well, nice to see you again Becca. I’m James. How did you get up here?”
“The stairs,” Becca answered as if that should be obvious.
“By yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“How old are you?”
“Five.” she said while she shoved her chubby fingers in the air counting five. “Are you mad?”
“Nope.”
Memories of his sisters and brothers washed through him. Being the oldest meant a lot of responsibility. He’d clean up after them, do their laundry, cook their meals, all while his parents sat in church to hear the Founder drone on and on about the coming of the end of the world. He missed his siblings every day, but at least he still had Finn.
“Maybe we should go let your mommy know where you are, sweetie. She might worry.”
“Okay.”
As James stood up from the chair, with Becca in his arms, his bedroom door opened wider, revealing Becca’s mother and Ross.
