by F. G. Adams
“No can do, brother from another mother. The honeymoon ended when you walked through the door. We’ve got some nerve-wracking shit going down, and we need everyone in on it.” The vague details catch his attention. “Mustaf resurfaced.”
“No, fuckin’ way. You certain?”
“It’s not a hundred percent, but everything points to a yes, Ols,” I confirm his suspicions.
“Well, fuck a duck,” Oliver sighs. “Ok, give me ten minutes to shit, shower, and shave.” Oliver smirks, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.
“Move your ass, soldier,” I holler. “Not a minute past, knob-head. Go. Go. Go.” I chuckle.
His reminiscing of basic training days deserved my witty response. I’m so damn glad he’s returned.
“Good to see ya, too, Luc,” Oliver counters. He pivots around to leave the kitchen, and his gait slows. Oliver does an about-face. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten our talk that’s comin’, Lukas. After the meetin’, you and I are havin’ that convo.” The determination in Oliver’s eyes projects the sincerity of his words, and he exits.
“If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me. Monkey-nuts. Not going to get out of this one, I’m afraid,” I mumble to the empty room.
Tensions and tempers flare during the conference call. The topic: Mustaf. Cal’s ranting about tying Mustaf to a tree with honey smeared all over him, and MacGyver’s pansy ass getting sick from Cal’s description has my head splitting wide-open from the stress of the situation. No viable plan has emerged. Most of us are trying to wrap our heads around the connections.
“Fuck. I still don’t get how it’s possible. Mustaf is in cahoots with the Cabriccis? All along, the motherfucker has been right under our noses,” Keagan’s voice booms over the speaker.
My up close and personal view of the video screen projects Keagan’s baby bottom head tense, turning blood red as each second ticks off.
“Mac and I are working on digging up those answers, Keagan. We’ll get to the root of the matter, man. Mac’s already found a few ‘books in the library.’”
Oliver croaks and spews the soda from his mouth all over the table. “Fucker. Don’t ya mean needle in a haystack?”
“When in Rome, youse guys,” I snigger, and laughter rumbles off the walls.
“Alright, ladies, rein it in,” Keagan smothers his laugh. “Back to the task at hand. I’ll make contact with Santiago again. Find out if there’s anything more in the wind. Matilda called me yesterday. I have a feeling she may know somethin’ that could help. Gotta call her back to make necessary arrangements for security. Sage, priority one,” Keagan commands.
“I’ve got a few connections in Jacksonville and Miami. Maybe they can shed light on the bullshit haunting the family,” Shannon interjects, trying to help calm the room.
“That’ll help. We all need to have eyes and ears open, twenty-four-seven,” I instruct.
“I know a guy. I’ll make contact and see what he knows, too,” Beauty pipes in. “He may know someone who has firsthand knowledge on Mustaf’s whereabouts and business.”
“I’ll put out feelers. We’ll catch the boyo; if those fuckin’ scumbags are out there, we’ll find ‘em,” Grady jeers.
I’d swear sparks were flickering from his fingertips over the vid.
“Thanks, guys. Keep us informed. Remember, even the smallest detail could be important. We’ll add security detail for the entire family again. Solely focused on Sage,” Keagan insists. “Let’s tear it down to the basics, fucktards.”
“Hoorah,” the chant echoes around the space, decreeing the tremendous badge of honor each man of Trident Security carries. One that’s forged by war, struggle, and strife.
The sun hangs low on the horizon in the Ozarks, beginning its decent behind the mountains. I’ve settled outside, the large open deck a preferred spot, smoking my e-cig. The forefront of my mind: Sage. She’s colonized every part of me. Permanently.
In the last hour, I’ve called Sage about ten times, and voicemail picks up. Sent her about a hundred text messages, too. Yeah, I’m like a lost puppy trying to find his owner. Can’t be helped. The green fiber of my existence roars with the need to hear her voice. To assure the Hulk she’s safe.
Her plane touched down in Lakeview early morning, before lunchtime. She answered once and then went silent again. I pace the expansive area, pounding out the aggravation. There’s no reason for her to still have her phone off. Unless she’s trying to avoid me or someone. Her perky little ass requires attention when I get my hands on her, and I will. My reflecting turns heated, daydreaming of the possibilities.
There has to be a way to make her stay, a way to keep her from running.
“Luc.”
Oliver’s hands firmly grip the rails, shoulders tense. His mouth is formed into a thin line, and I shudder from what’s coming.
“Time to tell me what’s goin’ on, Jolly Green. And I’m not talkin’ about the mission,” Oliver huffs a bark.
“It’s nothing, Ols. Piss off. I’m not in the mood for talking right now.”
“Not an option, bro. I already know what’s goin’ on. Just need you to acknowledge it,” Oliver reveals, and the proficiency of his skill emanates.
Of course, he does.
“Look, Luc. I get it. It’s foreign. But, man, you’ve walked through the pits of hell and came out on top. Made your way back to the land of the livin’. You can do this.”
“I’m not talking about this with you, Bishop. Forget it.” My face is pinched, giving him a fuck-you look. I’m not going down this road.
“Really? So, in other words, Sage doesn’t mean jack shit to you? That’s what your sayin’, Lukas?” Disappointment laces his tone.
“Low blow, bro,” I scoff.
“Huh. A poet, and ya didn’t even know it,” Oliver bites back. Then continues on with his tirade, “Tell me somethin’, Luc. How do you really feel about her? We can all see what you’re too stubborn to admit. The shit’s gotta end, man. It’s been too many years between ya to waste another minute. Too much water under that bridge, and it’s gonna wash away real soon. Unless you do somethin’ about it quick.”
Oliver takes a deep cleansing breath of the crisp afternoon air and rolls his shoulders back. The fucker is right. Shithead.
I just don’t know where to start. Commanding in the bedroom, check. Obsessive, compulsive, I’ve got that down pat. She knows I want her.
“I’ve never…I mean, man, I don’t know how to talk about the sappy shit. I’m a bufflehead, Ols.”
Oliver laughs. “Yeah, you are. But me neither, Luc. Fallyn’s changed a lot for me. And all I do know is, I wouldn’t change the life I’ve found with her and Harper for nothin’. Yeah? I want you to find the same happiness, brother.”
“I hear you. It’s just, every step I take toward her, she takes four steps back, Ollie. It’s like quicksand in the desert; the more I move, the more it pulls me under. I can’t seem to solve this puzzle. Not this time.”
“Nah, you of all people will figure it out, Lukas. It’s better to know how to learn than to know it all. Ya feel me?” Oliver pauses to gather his thoughts. “But piece of advice. Sage is as stubborn as the rest of the Blackwood women. Time to take the bull by the horns. Enough waitin’ around for her to decide, bro. Make that woman yours. Stat.”
Could it be that simple? Go all Neanderthal on her ass, ‘Unga-munga,’ beating my chest, grabbing her by the hair of her head and drag her back into my cave. I chuckle.
“Catch ya later, Luc. You gotta lot of decisions to make,” he finishes, offering his hand, and we shake.
Oliver disappears into the house, and I’m left alone, overloaded. My heart palpitates, running a marathon in my chest. A strange warmth explodes in the pit of my stomach and causes a severe case of cotton mouth. Electrical currents flow, generating excitement.
His words echo in my ears. Make that woman yours. With sweaty palms, I attempt to swallow, inducing a little discomfort of burnin
g and tingling. I clear the lump, and a slow smile forms.
It’s time to control the relationship, and not just in the bedroom.
This could be the most important game I’ve ever played. We’ve played together.
Rolling my shoulders and rigid neck in order to loosen the tension, I close my eyes tightly and sigh.
My eyes spring open wide as realization hits me like cement shoes wrapped around my legs and feet, on the verge of plunging into the ocean.
Forever gone.
Forever changed.
The player, pushing up daisies.
Bases loaded. Grand slam.
I’m in love with Sage Blackwood.
12
Sage
The time seemed right. For once I was going to do the brave and noble step with Lukas, at least that was my good intention. Until I woke up spooned up against a warm, naked body. I freaked the fuck out instead. I planned to tell him my concerns and doubts about returning home. How I was a little uncomfortable, more along the lines of scared shitless about going back to my house alone. All those thoughts disappeared and I quickly got the heck out of Dodge.
Disbelief peppered with astonishment at the predicament I find myself in. Not once have I, up until today, woken up in the arms of a man. I’ve been extremely careful to vacate the premises once the deed was done. Damn, that seems so clinical. No strings attached. It’s hard to believe I actually slept.
On the plane ride home, I had an epiphany, lightning struck and penetrated layers worth of years of stubbornness. I’m not upset I fell asleep with Lukas, only shocked. My body recognizes what my mind and heart keep denying. I belong with him. He’s mine.
It doesn’t matter there’s a lunatic waiting in the dark. He’ll protect me.
Regardless of the situation I find myself in at home, I’m falling hard for Lukas with an intensity so powerful I’ve lost the motivation to struggle. Match game. I close my eyes, clasping my hands tightly together. I recall the way I left him. His sexy, naked body stretched out across the bed, a sheet draped over his lower region that showcased the eight-pack abs made to be licked and savored. It was evident he worked out from the bulging, sleek muscles adorning him. Everything about Lukas is stare worthy.
“Where do you want to go first, Miss Sage, office or home?” Carl breaks into my rambling thoughts.
I glance up into the rearview mirror, staring into a pair of wise eyes.
“The office, please, Carl,” I return. “I need to check in with Nick and make sure the clinic is running smoothly.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’ve been away from the View for some time now. Catchin’ up on your routine is paramount. I’ll drop you off and run a few errands, then come back ‘round and get you. Thirty minutes long enough, or would an hour work better?”
“An hour would be fine, Carl. Thank you again for the lift. It’s a darn shame my car is still in the shop, especially since it was only in there for a routine service. You would think the mechanic would be finished with my baby. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.”
He chuckles. “Well, now I can’t tell you why your baby isn’t ready, but if I were a betting man, I would bet it was hard to find a part, and ’65 Shelby parts don’t grow on trees, little lady. You know as well as I do those classic parts are really hard to find.”
“Maybe you’re right. The mechanic I took it to specializes in older model Mustangs. Would it be a problem if we detoured and ran by his garage before going to the clinic? Hopefully, he can shed a little light on the problem. I normally do the oil change myself. Not the tune-up. Geez, spark plugs and oil shouldn’t be hard to find, if you know where to look.”
Carl’s laughter echoes throughout the vehicle.
“Good golly Miss Molly,” he light-heartedly sings. “There’s more to it than just that. Trust me.”
I sit back and laugh. Carl isn’t the norm. He can sing the blues with the best; actually, he has. I still don’t understand why he stays around Lakeview. When I came home after my stint overseas, we would share stories. He listened to mine without judgment or condemnation. His is always about my family and the impact we make on him.
A feeling I haven’t had in twelve days vibrates at my side. I pull my cell phone out and look, a warm and fuzzy feeling takes over—Lukas.
L: Princess, I’m going to spank your beautiful ass until it’s red for leaving me. Where are you? I’m on my way. Don’t fucking run.
Smug motherfucker. I bite my bottom lip to smother a grin.
Me: On the way to the clinic with a quick detour to check on my car. You’re coming to Lakeview? When?
Seconds pass. I pause and watch the bubbles on my phone, waiting for a response.
L: Trident jet leaving in the a.m.
I pause for a second, and need wins out.
Me: Where are you now?
L: Arkansas.
Good to know. Is it bad to wish he were closer?
Me: Hey, at the mechanic’s shop ttyl.
I don’t wait for a response when my door opens. I step out of the vehicle and walk to the open bay. I stop in my tracks when the remains of my baby come into view.
“Oh, my God!” I say hysterically as I slowly walk toward what’s left of the car I rebuilt with my uncle. The mechanic slides out from under a vehicle and stands.
“Dr. Blackwood. I didn’t expect you here today. Your grandma told me you wouldn’t be returning to pick her up for a few more weeks.”
I stop and wipe the moisture that’s escaped off my cheeks.
“Of course. I wanted to see for myself the reason my car wasn’t ready. I’m glad I did. What”—pausing to clear my throat, I continue—“are your findings? Can you explain to me why my car was delivered in perfect condition less than two weeks ago only needing a tune-up, but now it looks like a napalm bomb exploded inside of it?” My voice rises as I press on. “Please. Do tell the circumstances surrounding the event, and also include why you didn’t bother to contact me!”
The easy-going mechanic wipes grease on the dirty rag hanging from his pocket as with a forlorn expression he replies, “Well, ma’am, I tried to contact you. Called both your office and home, left messages. The mailbox on your cell phone was full, so I tried Matilda. She came down here and accessed the damage, called in Billy to take some pictures, then told me to right the damage as swiftly as possible. I put the other cars I was workin’ on to the side, but I’m waitin’ on parts from a dealer out in the Midwest. It should be in today. A few more over the next few. The best I can tell ya, faulty wirin’ in the dashboard caused the fire. It spread pretty fast to mess up the bucket seats and the bench in the back, but…”
“But, what?”
“Looks like an accelerant was involved. The spark mighta started in the dash, but it went fast burnin’ a path. We haven’t had trouble like this before. The fence is a deterrent. I told Matilda as soon as I got the parts all in, we’d be rockin’ and should have it back in tip-top shape in a few weeks. Paintin’ won’t take but a couple days, and she’ll be good as new.”
My outrage from moments before dwindles to nothing, a candle without air. I nod at a loss for words, numbness blankets me as I stare at what was for me a rite of passage from a teenager to an adulthood.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
I’m herded back to the idling car and placed inside. My thoughts scattered on the wind. The long hours of researching the ideal piece to complete the beauty. The summertime waitress job at Coney Island. The hard physical labor I spent refurbishing the steering wheel and interior seats. It’s all gone. Only the shell remains. I spent the summer before my senior year rebuilding the beauty to a pristine state. Another part of me violated by an unknown. I reach for my cell phone. Lukas.
Me: He torched my baby.
I wait, needing his comfort.
L: I’m so sorry, princess.
Me: Me 2. Going to G’s.
I press the power button. I don’t want to be bothered again. I want to grie
ve the loss of innocence in my safe little world inside of Lakeview. The latest attack on me has ripped the false sense of security and shredded it into tiny pieces. I’m empty and afraid. People I care deeply about could be hurt or killed, the same means as Isaiah in Dubai. I need to regroup and plan.
“Carl, would you please take me to Grandma’s now? I really don’t feel well enough to go anywhere else.”
“Surely will do, Sage. We’ll head over there immediately.”
“Thank you.”
I twist, laying my head against the door of the car, watching the bystanders. I’d invested a part of me in my car. The money isn’t the issue; it was something I had accomplished on my own.
We pull into Grandma’s, and I fidget with the hem of my jacket, ready to run into her open arms. She is standing on the front porch, propped up on with a cane, a look of determination on her elegant face. Carl opens my door, and I head straight for her. The pleasant fragrance of magnolias swarms me, instantly calming the out-of-control emotions.
“Welcome home, Sage, dear. I’ve missed ya so much. You girls are scattered in every direction of the wind these days. Come on inside. I was about to pour myself a tall glass of sweet tea. Want some?”
A genuine smile materializes. I thank the man upstairs for my grandma.
“Sounds fantastic. I’m parched,” I answer, standing to the side while she maneuvers using the cane. She’s a graceful lady even with the aid of a stick.
“My darn ankle isn’t healing as fast I’d hoped. I’m not as young as I used to be, you know? Time stops for no one, not even me. Bless your heart, sweetie. You look like the world’s coming to an end. You’ve been through the ringer the last little bit. We’ve got so much to catch up on. Carl, could you grab Sage’s bags, if you don’t mind, and put them in the second guest room on the right, facing the lake.”
“Sure thing. Then I need to run a few errands. The, um”—he glances between me and Grandma—“security detail is here. I’ll be back soon.”
“Thanks for the ride,” I offer to his retreating back, looking around and seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
