Dancing back, Caz kicked a chair at Baldy, which knocked him back against the log wall.
Knives. They wanted to play with knives…
Delighted, Caz slid his own knife from the left wrist sheath and threw.
Thunk.
The blade pinned the asshole’s sleeve to the wall. The man’s screech was followed by a string of swear words.
Cheering came from the locals.
“Hey, the doc’s playing with knives again!”
“More where that came from, asshole.”
“Keep ’em coming, Doc!”
There were disadvantages to living in a small town.
Shaking his head at the bloodthirsty suggestions of where to put the next knife, Caz checked his six.
Potbelly had regained his feet. Head down, he charged.
Appearing suddenly, Bull clouted the man to the floor with one big hand.
At six-four and massive, Caz’s brother had more than grown into his name…something Caz had envied when they were teens.
“Harassing the staff? My staff. What the fuck!” Bull’s booming voice bounced off the ceiling and silenced the place. “Get out. Don’t come back.”
Still on the floor, Potbelly looked worried. As well he should. Bull’s Moose Roadhouse was the only bar in Rescue.
“Sorry I was slow.” Bull slapped Caz on the shoulder. “Thanks for stepping in.”
“De nada.”
“Oh, hell, the cop’s here,” a customer muttered. “Funtime’s over.”
Caz glanced toward the door.
Yes, Gabe, their oldest brother, was crossing the room to join them. The shiny Chief of Police badge on his khaki uniform shirt glinted in the dim bar lights. “Another fight, Bull? Jesus, just one night of quiet out here would be nice.”
“Nah, we’d get bored. The idiots are all yours, bro.” After getting an I’m-okay sign from Felix, Bull headed for the bar, trading jokes and critiques on the brawl with everyone.
One customer yelled that Caz should’ve landed a blade in the bully’s throat. Caz’s gut tightened at the flood of memories. Been there, done that, quit the business.
“I really wanted a beer, not more paperwork.” Scowling, Gabe walked over to Baldy and yanked the knife out of the wall.
With a high yelp, Baldy clutched his arm. “That damned—”
“Oh, shut up.”
Baldy went silent.
At six-one and deadly, Gabe rarely got backtalk. He tossed the blade back to Caz.
Caz plucked it from the air and winced at the blood on the metal. “I cut him?”
“Looks like.” With a quick yank, Gabe tore the injured man’s shirtsleeve off to expose the bloody cut on the outside of the thick forearm. “Sorry, bro. You slice ’em; you stitch ’em.”
“No mames.” Truly, this sucked.
“Sorry about the extra work, but thanks, Caz,” Felix called. The slender waiter was righting chairs and taking orders at the same time. The man had balls. Anchorage had a robust gay population. But the smaller Alaskan communities could be pretty intolerant.
Caz and his brothers hadn’t been raised to tolerate intolerance. The sarge’d believed that a judiciously applied fist could activate neurons and set narrow-minded people to better ways of thinking.
There were days Caz missed Mako’s straightforward approach to life.
Returning to his table, he smiled ruefully at the golden-tan brunette. She was a tourist from the ski resort up the mountain, and they’d been engaged in a flirtatious dance, both knowing what the oncoming night would hold. Tomorrow, she’d be on her way back to New Mexico, eliminating any awkward entanglements.
He did dislike entanglements.
“I’m sorry, chiquita,” he murmured, caressing her soft cheek. He’d been looking forward to having his hands on other soft parts of her body. “I will have to leave you and take care of this man.”
Her mouth turned down. “Why you? Can’t someone else deal with him?”
“Alas, no. I run the health clinic.” He was the one and only medical person in the tiny town of Rescue.
“C’mon, Caz.” Having tied the torn sleeve around Baldy’s wound, Gabe motioned to Potbelly. “You, too. Let’s go.”
“Why me, Chief? I didn’t pull no knife.” Potbelly rubbed his undoubtedly sore belly, scowled at his friend, then at Gabe.
“Because I said so. Now shut up.” Gabe gave Baldy a shove.
Yes, the chief was in a piss-poor mood. Caz took a last drink from his almost-full glass and followed them out.
In the parking lot, Gabe eyed Caz. “Knife fights, bro? Aren’t you ever going to grow up?”
The four of them had brawled their way through growing up, then the military, and actually, had never really stopped. Being the youngest, shortest, and lightest of his brothers, Caz’d often evened the odds with something sharp and pointy.
He gave Gabe a thin smile. “Even when I’m old and crippled, I’ll have a blade in my walking stick.”
“Bet you will.” Gabe frowned. “Was there a reason for the fight?”
“They were harassing Felix. Bull wasn’t around, so I told them to leave him alone. They didn’t like taking orders from a beaner.” The word tasted sour in his mouth. His white father had given him a few extra inches of height, but Mamá was Mexican, and he’d inherited her skin, dark hair, and eyes. Enough to make him a target for racists. He really did hate racists and bigots. “Baldy shoved me, and I lost my balance and hit Felix’s tray. Spilled the beer on them. Potbelly tried to punch me.”
“I see.” Gabe’s mouth twitched because he knew exactly how often Caz lost his balance.
Never.
Caz projected innocence. “Baldy tried to knife me. What could I do, eh, ’mano?”
“Self-defense, hmm?” Gabe’s voice lost any iota of humor. “I guess I’m grateful they’re still moving.”
Caz looked away. His brothers knew how Caz had spent the year after his fiancée had been killed. Seeing his need for vengeance, a governmental black ops group had recruited him to eliminate high value targets. Quiet assassinations came far too easily to someone who liked knives.
He could’ve easily added two more bodies to his kill count tonight…and Gabe knew it.
As Gabe opened the back door of the patrol car, Caz pulled in a breath of the cold night air. Just a taste of frost. The snows would start soon, and the cold darkness of winter would close in. Odd that he was looking forward to spending it in this little town. But, his brothers would be here. After years of separation, first in the military, then just life, they were being drawn back together.
He’d missed them…more than he’d realized.
“Hey.” Gabe brightened. “What with a knife wound, a hefty medical fee, and being banned from the only bar around, these assholes have been well punished. I won’t need to lock them up or do a bunch of paperwork.”
In the back seat, Potbelly looked up, his expression appalled. “Banned? The Bull was serious? We’re here for another week.”
The other sounded equally dismayed. “Medical fee?”
Oh, such a medical fee. Heading for his own car, Caz smiled. Emergency services and after-hours. Yes, he’d double his fee…even if the blade had been his own.
An hour later, Caz and Gabe returned to the roadhouse and found Hawk and Bull at a quiet back table.
“It’s good to have all four of us here again.” Dropping into a chair, Caz smiled at his three brothers. Bull was huge, Polynesian, shaved head, black eyes, and a black-and-gray goatee. Clean-shaven, Gabe had dark brown hair, blue eyes. Lean and ripped, Hawk was Gabe’s height, with shaggy sand-colored hair and beard. He had blue-gray eyes and fair skin. In contrast, Caz wasn’t quite six feet and had Latino coloring. They referred to themselves as brothers—because of Mako—but anyone seeing them side-by-side got confused.
It was good to have Hawk home, even if it was only for a couple of days. Unlike the other three, Hawk hadn’t moved to Rescue. He still lived in the Lower
48—when not on a foreign assignment with whatever company he was working for these days.
“Here you go, guys.” Felix brought over a beer for Gabe then one for Caz. “Thanks for the rescue earlier. It’s really appreciated.”
His flirtatious smile made Caz grin and give him a reproving look.
Felix laughed. “I have to try now and then, in case you change your mind.”
As the waiter headed back to the bar, Gabe shook his head. “Takes balls to be open about sexual preferences in a place like this.”
“Ah, but when someone looks like Caz,” Bull said, “both sexes get tripped up with lust.”
“Look who’s talking. Give it a rest, cabrones.” Caz lifted his beer and hesitated because his most taciturn brother was looking at him with…not hate, not quite, but anger? Interacting with Hawk was like white-water kayaking—dodging snags and eddies. The scars from his ugly past made for hazardous navigation.
Caz caught his gaze. “Hawk, a problem?”
Hawk blinked and shook his head. “Nope.”
What was going on in his head? Well, if Hawk was around tomorrow, Caz would see if they couldn’t have a talk. Not that Hawk talked much, but he shared more with Caz than the other two. Maybe because a hunter like Caz had more patience at stalking his prey. If his brother needed help, he’d get it.
Bull studied Hawk before looking at Gabe. “Thanks for dragging the bastards away. Any trouble with them?”
“Not really. Aside from their lack of personal hygiene.” Gabe grinned. “Caz started swearing in Spanish about halfway through stitching up the guy.”
“I should’ve hosed him down first.” Caz lifted his glass and breathed in the fine aroma of malt. “He stank of dead fish and sweat. I don’t think either of them’d had a bath in weeks.”
“Well, you only have another few weeks of stink,” Bull said. In mid-September, hunting, fishing, and tourism were grinding to a halt.
Gabe’s face tightened. “Seems wrong to have had a fishing season without the sarge.”
Mako had died a year ago. Even now, at sunrise when Caz stepped outside, he still expected to see the sarge doing PT on the lakeshore. The same grief came from Caz’s brothers. One year or many—it wouldn’t matter. Mako had begun calling them a team and ended up calling them brothers, and legal or not, he’d been their father.
The pain would never entirely fade.
Caz lifted his beer. “To the sarge. May the winds be soft and the fish biting wherever he is.”
Gabe tapped his glass against Caz’s. “May he always have a team at his back.”
Bull tapped his glass against Gabe’s. “May he always have good food and good beer.”
Hawk lifted glass and muttered, “And may he remember how he saved four dumbass kids.”
Caz nodded at Hawk’s words. Yes, Mako had been proud of raising them. Trust Hawk to know it. He had the hardest shell—and a soft interior. Of course, let anyone say Hawk had a tender heart and the merc would mess them up.
Caz rather liked that about him.
“I left flowers on his grave when I was there this week,” Bull said. No one was more loyal than the Bull. “There were a couple of other bouquets.”
“Lillian,” Gabe said. “Maybe even Dante.”
Dante owned the grocery in town. He and Mako’d been friends since their Vietnam days. From what Lillian had let drop, she and the sarge had become very close after Mako’d moved from his wilderness cabin to the dying town of Rescue.
The town where he’d spent his savings buying up a shitload of failing businesses and properties then left everything—with a mission—to his four boys.
Death has been part of your lives.
Time to create something instead. Bring this town back to life.
That’s an order.
Caz snorted under his breath and added a final blessing, “May the sarge look down on Rescue and laugh his ass off at the mess he left us to fix.”
His brothers grinned, and three glasses clinked against his.
“How’s it going?” Hawk’s voice had always been a harsh rasp—Mako’d said it’d probably been damaged from screaming. “In Rescue?” Hawk’s indifferent tone contradicted the interest in his steel-colored eyes.
“We’re making progress.” Bull glanced around his roadhouse with satisfaction. “Got this place running well. About half the empty buildings are filled now.”
Bull was their financial go-to guy and handled the rentals and sales.
“Are you ever going to move back and help?” Gabe asked. He and Hawk had once been close, but something had come between them in the last year they’d served together as mercenaries. Hawk had pulled out of Gabe’s unit before Gabe’d walked into an ambush and almost died.
Hawk’s face tightened. “Not yet.”
Gabe leaned forward. “You need to—”
“The health clinic is up and running.” Caz cut him off. Gabe was their leader—always had been—but when Hawk shut down, he wouldn’t take suggestions from anyone, let alone orders. “It’s working well to share a receptionist with the police department.”
All the municipal offices, including the police station and health clinic, were in one building.
Gabe backed off. “Audrey has the library running well, and it’s damn popular.” Gabe’s woman had been a university librarian in Chicago, but she jumped into small town living with such enthusiasm everyone adored her.
“You replace Officer Baumer yet?” Hawk didn’t talk much, but he’d helped nail the bastard during a kidnapping attempt—which left Gabe the one and only law enforcement officer—LEO—in Rescue.
“Nope. Haven’t found anyone I want to hire,” Gabe answered.
“Seriously, hermano, you need someone.” Caz scowled. “Yesterday, I patched up a hunter who almost shot his foot off, and his drunken friends kept starting fights in the clinic. Backup from the police department would’ve been useful.”
Gabe scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Forget the sorry shit.” Caz thumped his brother on the shoulder. Gabe’s sense of responsibility for the entire world would give him ulcers. “Just hire someone.”
“I’ve got three potentials coming in to interview next week. The off-season will give me time to bring someone up to speed before the ski resort’s season starts.” Gabe glanced at the door, and his expression lightened. “Ah, my woman’s here.”
Audrey walked across the room, smiling as half the bar called out greetings. She’d spent the summer waitressing in the roadhouse, starting up the library, and helping Dante in the grocery store. All of Rescue knew her.
She laughed when Gabe pulled her onto his lap for a hug and a kiss that left her flushed.
Gabe was more relaxed than Caz had seen him in years. Many, many years, if ever. Mako might have prepared his boys to be soldiers, but humans didn’t adjust well to killing. Not with the devastating weapons of the modern age and certainly not for long periods. Caz and his brothers were damn good fighting machines—and they’d returned to civilian life with mental and physical scars. Gabe and Hawk were probably the most damaged since, after the military, they’d joined a mercenary outfit.
When Gabe had left the mercs and holed up in Mako’s old wilderness cabin, Caz had wondered if he’d ever return to a normal life. But Audrey had pulled him out of the black hole. Her love had changed him.
Taking a chair beside Gabe, Audrey scooted close enough to snuggle against her man’s side. Caz had to suppress envy. His Carmen had been like thataffectionate, snuggly, and sweet…although he hadn’t met her when she’d been carrying an M-16. So loving, and then she’d died, taking all his hopes with her. After losing her, he’d shut down his heart as quickly as Bull turned over his tavern sign from OPEN to CLOSED.
No, he didn’t want another woman—not to love. Dios, what good was a man if he couldn’t protect the people he loved? Mamá, Rosita, Carmen. No more women or children. He had his brothers who were tough enou
gh to survive anything. They were enough family for him.
“Caz, hey, it’s good to see you.” A curvy redhead strutted up to the table, all assets on display. As he recalled, those assets were very nice when bare and a joy to touch. A second’s thought brought her name. “Elliana, how are you?”
“Very good, thank you.” She motioned toward the bar. “We drove over from Soldotna to celebrate my friend’s birthday. Why don’t you join us?”
Not a chance. He was very careful so no woman would get attached to him. He didn’t return for seconds for that reason, no matter how fun a time he’d had. “I’m afraid not. My brother’s not here long, and we have catching up to do.” He motioned to Hawk.
She looked that way and grimaced slightly. “Well, pooh, Caz.” After a pretty pout, she returned to her friends.
“Still breaking the hearts, bro?” Hawk asked, his mouth turning down.
“Our very own stud,” Gabe agreed before asking Caz, “Didn’t Grayson treat you to one of his infamous ‘chats’ about mending your ways?”
Caz snorted. The psychologist friend of Mako’s had taken an interest in them years ago. He still showed up every year or so to check on them. To help when he could. “Zachary never lectures—he just asks questions.”
Questions that had a man waking in the wee hours and pondering their meaning. Questioning the path he was on. Caz shook off those thoughts and grinned at his brothers. “Although he did mention he feared my habits would bite me in the ass one day.”
“Jesus, sounds like a curse waiting to happen,” Gabe muttered.
A chill ran over Caz’s spine at the thought, then his attention was drawn to shouting at the door.
“Hey, Doc, need you at the clinic. Some hunter was splitting wood and axed his leg instead.”
What kind of idiot would chop wood after dark? With a sigh, Caz rose. “Coming.”
His brothers and Audrey gave him sympathetic looks. He’d been called away from enough gatherings that they weren’t surprised.
“Text if you need extra hands on deck,” Gabe said.
“Roger that.” Caz trotted out of the bar, considering what would be needed at the clinic.
Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2 Page 2
