by Fall, Carly
As he stirred the pot of macaroni, he heard the front door open. He hoped it was Blake, as whoever had entered was whistling. He went to the dining room and peeked around the corner.
Yep, Blake. Whistling. Looking like he had almost been fucked to death, but not quite.
“Hey,” he said as he heard the water boiling over onto the stove. Running back into the kitchen, he knew he was going to have a mess to clean up.
Blake strolled in the kitchen and put a bag down on the counter. “Forget mac and cheese, man. I stopped at Denny’s. You’ve got a real breakfast.”
Jovan dumped the macaroni in the garbage. “Nice. Thanks.”
They ate in silence at the small table in the kitchen nook.
“So how was your night?” Blake asked, not meeting Jovan’s eyes.
“It was good.”
Blake looked up at him. “No regrets?”
Jovan shrugged. Did he have regrets? Maybe. But they weren’t the regrets Blake was thinking of. “Not those kind.”
Blake stopped chewing and looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that nothing happened. I got to one of the girl’s apartment, and nothing happened.”
Blake put down his fork. “What? Did you have a junk malfunction?”
Jovan rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a problem in that department, okay? My junk is ready at the word ‘go.’ I just couldn’t do it, man. I was kissing this one girl, and all I could think of was Liberty. It was a mind fuck, so I just disentangled myself, bolted, and came back here.”
He didn’t mention what he did to his junk when he got home. Deciding the subject had to be changed, he said, “What about you? How was your night?”
Blake smiled while chowing down on his bacon. “It was good. Haven’t had to keep two women satisfied in a few years, and don’t plan on doing it again. I’m calming down in my old age.”
Jovan laughed. “And what is that? Thirty?”
“Thirty-four.”
“You’re just a baby.”
“Really?” Blake asked. “And how old would you be?”
Jovan thought a moment while doing the math. “I’m one thousand and something. I’ll live another thousand or so, give or take a century or two.”
Blake let out a long whistle. “Wow. I hope I have some of that good plasma rolling through my veins.”
“Don’t know, my friend. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. But the fact that Cohen can heal you without killing you is probably a good indication that you do. Not that I’m an expert or anything.”
Jovan watched as his friend chowed through his breakfast like Pac Man through the white dots. He had been totally honest with Blake when he described what went down the previous night, but now he better understood his actions.
In a nutshell, Liberty had hurt him, and in his hurt, he wanted to lash out. He had tried to do the old-and-tired trick of screwing his troubles away. Thankfully, he had realized his mistake before he had gone through with the plan, and he realized he had been acting like a petulant child.
Was he still pissed? Yeah, he was. For the first time in his life he had allowed himself to open up and love a female, and on his first mistake, she had tossed him to the curb.
That didn’t mean that screwing two random women was going to help him.
Wasn’t he just the mature and responsible grownup.
“Well, I’m glad you came to your senses,” Blake said. “I only wish I had.” The male reached his arms over his head and stretched. “I’m going to take a quick shower and get the slut off me, and then we need to talk about what else went down last night.”
“Look, I don’t need a play-by-play of you and the blondes. Really, I—”
“Not my intention, my friend,” Blake said. He took a long sip of his coffee. “I don’t kiss and tell. I’m talking bright-eyed fuckers like yourself.”
Jovan went still, but his heart kicked into double time. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah, man. Five of them, all the size of outhouses, just like you guys. Walking down the street of Phoenix as we were getting into the cabs. If your tongue hadn’t been so far down that brunette’s throat, you might have seen them as well.”
Damn. It. To. Hell.
“So what did you do?”
Blake shrugged and chewed on the last piece of bacon. “What was I supposed to do? Take them on? I am just a mere mortal, my friend, plus I had two ladies I couldn’t disappoint.”
Jovan would have probably followed them, simply because it would have been a rush. However, he understood others had their self-preservation widget intact. “At least we know they’re here.”
“That was my thought exactly. After the holidays, we call in the cavalry and start hunting them before they can get to us.”
Jovan noted the “us.” Blake had totally aligned himself with the Six Saviors.
“I’m heading for the shower, man, and then I need a nap. You up for a ride in an hour or two?”
Jovan nodded, finished with his breakfast. “Sounds good. I say we chill for another day and then head back to Fernley. While you’re sleeping off last night, I’ll call Noah and let him know about the developments.”
“Cool,” Blake said through another yawn. “Just make sure I get the credit for the visual.”
Chapter 59
The next night, Jovan and Blake went into downtown again to see if they could find The Platoon.
“Remember, we don’t want a physical confrontation. We just want to do a little recon, find out where they’re staying, stuff like that,” Jovan said.
“Got it.”
They parked their bikes and began walking the streets. It was Saturday night, and the streets were crowded with holiday shoppers heading home and college kids who were just coming out to party who hadn’t made it home for the holiday.
Jovan rubbed his eyes, the contacts bothering him, and he had a thought. “How are they walking around at night, Blake? Are you sure it was them?”
Blake nodded. “There aren’t too many guys the size of Micah, so I’m pretty certain it was them. As for the how, maybe sunglasses? I don’t know.”
Jovan nodded. It had to be sunglasses. They certainly didn’t have access to technology to formulate the contacts, and chances were slim that any of them were as smart as Talin, the creator of the contacts.
An hour later, Jovan was just about to call it a night.
“Let’s try the Black Cuff one more time,” Blake said.
Jovan rolled his eyes. “Look, if you want to get laid, then—”
“No, Jovan, that’s not it. The Black Cuff is the best party spot in town. If they’re out and about, that’s where they’re going to be.”
Jovan reluctantly agreed.
They went inside and looked around, not seeing a bunch of guys in sunglasses mingling among the other patrons. Just as they were about to leave, Jovan saw them.
He grabbed Blake’s arm. “There,” he said, motioning his head into a dark corner. “There they are.”
In the darkened depths of the bar, there was a booth with five large males sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, all wearing dark wrap-around sunglasses, and Jovan recognized Micah right away.
Jovan looked around for a place that wouldn’t bring attention to them, and found a small table with two college guys sipping beers scanning the crowd. Jovan approached the table, Blake right behind him.
“Hi, boys,” he said.
They didn’t say anything, just looked at him.
“Hundred bucks for your table.”
They looked at each other, then back at Jovan. “Excuse me?”
“Pay attention, son. I give you a hundred bucks, you get your ass up off the chair and go find another place to park it.”
The college kids looked at each other again, and Jovan couldn’t believe they weren’t jumping at his offer. Unless they were trust fund babies and a hundred bucks didn’t mean squat to them.
“We’re taking your deal, but just curious on why
you’re offering.”
“Just need the table, dude.”
“Well, there’s one over there,” one of the guys said, pointing across the bar.
Jovan was losing his patience. “Look, I want this table and why is none of your concern. So get your asses up, take my money, and move it along.”
The guys stood, Jovan handed them a Bennie, and they left. Jovan and Blake sat down.
“Perfect view,” Blake said.
“Yep.”
For an hour, they watched The Platoon do a few shots, drink some beers, and get a little rowdy with the females. It became very apparent that they weren’t sure how to treat the females that approached them, and they couldn’t seem to find that balance between cold fish and aggressive. Micah sat in the middle of the booth like a king on his throne.
Jovan stood. “I’m going to go say hi.”
Blake got to his feet. “Jovan, this was supposed to be recon.”
“I know.” Jovan felt the adrenaline start to run through him. Oh, yeah. He loved that.
“Then why are we going to them?”
“I’m bored.”
As he approached the table, he smiled when he saw Micah’s eyebrows knit above the glasses as if Micah were trying to place him.
Jovan knew when the recognition kicked in. Micah’s eyebrows took a hike for his hairline and his nostrils flared.
“Hey, boys,” Jovan said, loving the rush of adrenaline that surged through his body as he met Micah’s gaze.
All went silent as they stared at Jovan. As he scanned them, he noted a mix of black, blond and brown hair. With their glasses on, he couldn’t really make out any defining features.
“What are you doing here?” Micah asked.
Jovan shrugged. “Just thought I’d stop by, see how things were going, how life on Earth was treating you. You know, a welcome to the neighborhood type of thing.”
There were grumbles around the table as the males were putting everything together. Him asking how things were going on Earth could only mean one thing: one of the Six Saviors.
Micah smiled and leaned forward with his elbow on the table. “Let me make a couple of things clear, Savior.”
Jovan said nothing, but stared into the black frames.
“We are here to decimate you. You failed at your mission, and because of your failure, your actions led to the end of our world. You, and that worthless leader of yours, Noah, will die.”
Jovan shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest. “You’re version of history is off, but this isn’t the place or time to talk about it.”
“Then leave us.”
Jovan glanced over his shoulder to make sure there weren’t any humans around, then put his hands on the table and leaned in. Micah backed up.
“There is no reason why we can’t just get along and co-exist without violence. We don’t have to spend holidays together, but we can leave each other alone.”
Micah threw his head back and laughed, a deep throaty sound. “You fool. I guarantee you that if you had watch SR44 explode, you would feel the same way we do. We are getting stronger as we figure out the way this world works, and when the time is right, we will find you and we will destroy you.”
Jovan shook his head and looked at Blake. “I can see this chat is going nowhere.”
Blake nodded. “Agreed.”
“Of course, if you just want to turn over Noah, we will spare your life. Maybe,” Micah said, smiling.
Jovan smiled. “Okay, Micah. But suck on this for a while. We wanted to leave your sorry ass in Area 2. Remember that place? I bet you’re still bleeding from what that doctor did to you. Noah said to get you out. He saved your ass, and now you want to kill him. Not a very nice way to say thank you, is it?”
There was a brief pause.
“I would have gotten out eventually,” Micah said.
“C’mon, Jovan, let’s go. This is like talking to a brick wall. You can’t reason with stupid,” Blake said.
Growls erupted from the table.
“Down, boys, down,” Jovan said.
“We have been smart enough to procure weaponry, like the one that is pointed at you under the table,” said the guy to Micah’s right.
“Good for you,” Jovan said, “and now let me give you a little advice. Humans don’t take kindly to guns going off in public places so don’t get trigger-happy. Have a nice night.”
Jovan turned and weaved his way through the throngs of people toward the exit. He really didn’t see how The Platoon could track them to the missile silo in Fernley, but one thing he had learned on his time on Earth was that anything was possible.
Blake fell into step with him when they reached the sidewalk. They rounded the corner and stopped.
“I want to see if they come out and where they go,” Jovan said.
The waited about a half-hour, and all five of The Platoon came out, each with a woman on their arm, apparently finding their stride in the pick-up department. They walked across the street to a SUV, and everyone piled in. Jovan and Blake watched as it drove away in the opposite direction. Apparently, they had found their stride as far as the female race was concerned.
“Do you want to make a run for our bikes and see if we can follow?” Blake asked.
Jovan shook his head. How in the world were they making it with women when their eyes were glowing? Or were they seriously getting busy with the sunglasses on? And where had they gotten a vehicle? They also looked showered, shaved, and well fed. How were they doing it?
When the Six Saviors had arrived, it had taken them a year before they were able to secure a place to call their own. Showering was a luxury, as was food. They had landed with close to nothing and had worked hard to get where they were today, which was well pampered. Was The Platoon much more resourceful than the Saviors had been?
Or had they turned to crime to survive?
And if they were honestly getting busy with their sunglasses on, they were going to get caught, which would mean a whole shitload of trouble for them, but also for Saviors. He could see Micah flapping his jaws, more than happy to turn in Noah and the rest of them to the government. Jovan cringed as he thought of his own experience. No, he wasn’t going back into that. No. Way.
They should have left him to rot with the doctor in Area 2. Damn Noah and his good intentions. Good intentions usually got you a sack of crap, and in the case, an arrogant, cocky asshole who seemed to be hell bent on humans finding out exactly what he was.
“Nah, let’s get out of here.”
For now, he had seen enough. He was ready to get back to Fernley and report what they had seen to Noah. Then there was the groveling he needed to do to Liberty, and hopefully make the female he loved understand that he was sorry and not a complete asshole.
Chapter 60
Blake paced his quarters, waiting for the phone to ring. Noah and the other Warriors were in the War Room deciding his fate.
It sucked having someone else in charge of that.
He knew there were three options for his future. First, they could outright kill him, which he doubted they would do. Shit, he’d taken two bullets for Liberty, helped them get their people back, and rescued Jovan’s ass.
Bonus points scored for him, especially for taking the slugs.
He figured the other two options were more along the lines of what they would be thinking. They would either cut him loose, or ask him to stay and help them.
He would be an asset to them. If Talin could get him into the FBI databases and files, he would know where to access all sorts of information for them. Also, he wasn’t too bad with a gun or the hand-to-hand, even if they did have a few inches on him and more than a couple pounds. He could beef up a bit with some more working out and hold his own against any of them.
Probably.
If they tossed him out, he hoped they would at least give him a few days to get a new life together, or maybe help him do it. It seemed Talin could get just about anything done if he had a com
puter in front of him.
Blake knew he would have to be buried deep, and even then he would have to live the rest of his life on the run. At some point, someone would figure out that it was him who had busted into Area 2, and he would have a bounty on his head, and he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the FBI hired a few “specialists” to take care of that bounty.
Yeah, he’d be a hunted man.
As he paced around the room, he noted the high-class, yet comfortable furnishings. His bed was still rumpled from his sleep the night before, the rust-colored sheets looking like blood against the white comforter. Perhaps they had put him in this room in case he sprung a leak and bled all over the place.
He had watched the eleven o’clock news the previous night on the big sixty-inch plasma on the wall, and there had been a very small story of drug activity on a lonely stretch of highway down by the border. They hadn’t mentioned any names, but they did note that there was three death and two injuries.
The drug cartel was always a great fallback. He had fabricated stories for the media using the drug cartels as the instigators many times when secret shit went sour down by the border.
Sitting down on the rust-colored overstuffed chair, he contemplated what he wanted to do. “Should I stay or should I go now?” he sang softly to himself. God bless The Clash for that classic.
He dug deep for an answer.
He actually really did like the Warriors. Working with Talin to set up the mission, and then actually executing the mission with Jovan, Rayner, and Noah had upped his trust in all of them. Cohen must not think he was too bad if he used his healing gift on him, and he really did have a special place in his heart for Jovan.
Feeling he belonged here, he was certain he wanted to stay.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he didn’t have to hide his past. These people knew exactly what he was, and because of them, he knew now too. He was half SR44ian, and these people were his tribe. Granted, he was part of the SR44 clan that they wanted to eradicate, but he hoped he had proven himself otherwise, and that someone’s past, or heritage, didn’t always mean that was what the person brought with them to the present.
