Mitch

by Dakota Rebel

  I shook my head. My father loved us—I never doubted that—but he was never going to make good decisions when it came to his children. I wasn’t well enough to ask if she would be inducted into the family business. I was pretty sure I knew the answer anyway.

  Dad leaned over me again, poking gently at the wounds on my chest. They had stopped bleeding and looked as if they were starting to heal up nicely. He was right. They were more healed than they should have been. I knew I needed to take the opportunity to ask, even if I was afraid of what his answer would be.

  “So, you said this healing is a bad sign. Am I going to turn into…something?”

  Dad shook his head. “I don’t know. Usually, if you were going to become a vampire, you would have woken up that way the next night. And all of the blood tests are coming back negative for lycanthropy, but it’s early. Sometimes, the tests don’t come back positive until after the first full moon. I’m hoping you’re just lucky. Maybe the wounds hit just right, and they’ll heal up, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t get a bonus check for this, huh?” I smiled, trying to make the joke, but Dad didn’t seem to think it was funny.

  “Officially, you weren’t on a case when you got these injuries. Jarrod’s file had been closed, and Skip’s file was assigned to a different hunter.”

  “I was kidding.” I sighed. “So what does this mean for my career? Am I going to get fired?”

  “That’s up to the Feds. The Army will request that you’re not assigned to any more contracts for them.” He left the fact that anyone in a relationship with a non-human was ineligible for contract work unsaid. “But you’ve always been a good marshal. I think the Feds will just find a new department for you.”

  I was scared that would mean a desk job. I’d always been in the field, fighting and taking out bad guys. I hated to think that I would be punished for saving an innocent man. But at the same time, I couldn’t have been happier that the innocent man was safe.

  I just wished he was with me right then. My father was not the most comforting of men—his bedside manner sucked ass. I wanted Jarrod there, holding my hand and kissing me. I closed my eyes, feigning exhaustion and hoping Dad would just go.

  “Get some rest. I’m sure Jarrod and Reagan will be home soon. It’s almost midnight. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Goodbye, Sir,” I said, making my voice soft.

  I listened to the elevator shudder its descent. When I was sure my father was gone, I swung my legs around to sit up on the couch. A sharp pain shot up my spine at the movement. I took a deep breath, waiting for the feeling to pass.

  When I no longer felt like screaming in agony, I pushed myself to my feet. Bracing myself on the couch, I stood still until the pins and needles feeling was gone from my legs. I was pretty excited to be standing on my own. When I saw blood trickling down my chest, I realized it had been a little stupid on my part.

  I hobbled into the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the shelf over the sink and ripping open another one of the wounds in the process. I had started to bleed pretty heavily, and I silently cursed myself for being an idiot.

  I got myself back onto the couch, pressing the towel hard against my chest as I tried to slow the blood flow. I had gotten the bleeding pretty much under control by time I heard the elevator moving again.

  Jarrod and Reagan walked in the living room laughing. They came straight to the couch, their laughter dying at the sight of me, blood stains on my hands and a towel pressed against me.

  Even though I was in some pretty serious pain, I smiled at the sight of them. Reagan wore a formal gown with her hair done up in an elaborate bun, and Jarrod looked fantastic in a black tuxedo with black shirt and tie.

  “Where have you two been all dressed up?” I asked, my voice weaker than I’d expected it to be.

  “Mitch, what the fuck happened to you?” Reagan dropped to her knees next to me, pulling the towel out of my hands to check my abdomen. “Where are your bandages?”

  “Dad came about an hour ago and took them off. He said I should get some air on the wounds.”

  “He just left you here alone, bleeding on the couch?” Jarrod had knelt beside Reagan, a worried look on his face.

  “No, of course not.” I knew they weren’t going to let it go until I admitted what happened, but I didn’t want to say it aloud. “Look, I ripped open the wounds when I moved. They were fine when he left.”

  “Moved?” Jarrod asked incredulously. “Where were you going?”

  “I’ve been on this couch for days—not that I remember any of it. My muscles ache, and you two weren’t here, and I’m a grown man, by the way. I can take care of myself. I’ve been worse off than this before, and I survived it just fine on my own.”

  “Mitch,” Reagan said, taking my hand. “Why are you so mad?”

  Why was I so mad? I hadn’t really realized that I was. But the more I let the words pour out, the more I knew she was right. I was angry—the kind of angry that will make a man do something dumb just because he can, the kind of angry that had made me get off the couch and move around just so I could prove I didn’t need anyone’s help. The kind of angry that came from not knowing what’s going on or what would happen in any area of my life from that point on. Not to mention I couldn’t even claim to be alive because of my own skill and strength. Yeah, I suppose I was pretty angry.

  “You need to tell her, or it won’t go away,” Jarrod said. He looked at me as if he knew exactly what I was pissed about, but he would make me say it anyway.

  “Tell me what?” Reagan asked, looking from Jarrod to me. “You’re not pissed that Jarrod took me to prom, are you? ‘Cause he was just helping me out. I was kind of dateless and taking a rock star to the biggest dance of my life just skyrocketed my popularity points.”

  I smiled in spite of my anger. I squeezed her hand and shook my head.

  “No, I’m not mad about tonight. I’m glad you two had fun. You both probably needed to get out of this place for a while.” I dropped my head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Jarrod was right. I had to tell her, but I didn’t have to look at her as I said it.

  “Reagan, I love you. You are the strongest, smartest kid I know. And I’m not angry at you, not at all. I’m angry at myself. I’m so fucking pissed that I needed you and Mom to save me. To save Jarrod. I’m supposed to be the strong one. That’s always been my role in the family. And I guess, I just feel a little useless now that you’ve done my dirty work for me.”

  I said it fast, trying to get it all out without yelling or crying or anything else that would have made it worse. And I didn’t look at her until she hit me.

  Her fist connected with my shoulder so hard I flinched, which made my abdominal muscles contract, which brought all the pain back.

  “You selfish son of a bitch,” she yelled. “Do you think it was easy for me to see you two like that? Do you think I liked having to shoot my lover repeatedly until he fell dead in front of me? Do you think I wanted any of this to happen? And now, you’re going to lay there and feel sorry for yourself? Fuck you, Mitch.”

  She stood up, walking away before I could catch her arm. A door slammed down the hall, and Jarrod looked at me with a bemused look on his face.

  “Nice work, Captain America.” He sat next to me, running a hand down my leg.

  “You just stood there and told me to tell her.”

  “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think you were just going to blurt it all out like that. She’s been worried sick about you for days. I don’t think she’s even taken the time to deal with what she had to do. And instead of thanking her for saving us, you just told her that she made you feel like less of a man.” He shook his head. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her while you’ve been out of it. I don’t think you really know your sister. I mean, I know you believe you guys are close, but she is so much stronger than I think you’ve ever given her credit for.”

  I was exhausted. Between opening up my physical wounds, and Reagan�
��s emotional ones, all of the fight was gone from me, but I knew I couldn’t leave things as they stood. I made Jarrod help me to my feet then walked on my own to Skip’s room.

  I knocked on the door, opening it even though she hadn’t answered me. She sat on his bed with one of his shirts in her hands. She wasn’t crying, just holding the shirt and staring across the room.

  “Can I talk to you, please?”

  She nodded but wouldn’t look at me. I walked into the room and sat gingerly on the bed next to her. I touched her shoulder and thought it was a good sign when she didn’t pull away.

  “I’m sorry. I really am. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you. I don’t have any excuse for what I just said to you. You’re absolutely right. It was completely selfish of me to lay my ego problems at your feet. Please don’t hate me.”

  She laughed. “I don’t hate you. You’re my big brother, and I will always love you. It has been so hard to sit here and watch you these last couple of days. None of us knew what would to happen to you. I’ve been blaming myself for what happened. I should have been there sooner. I should have been backing you up instead of having to come to your rescue.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks then. She brushed them away angrily and continued. “I have been going over that night in my head constantly, trying to figure out what I could have done differently, how I could have been there faster.”

  “Reagan, you can’t do that,” I said, giving her a little hug and only wincing slightly. “The job is done. I know this was your first contract, and the situation sucked bad, but I’m telling you from experience, you can’t let it eat away at you. The more you think about it, the worse it’s going to get, and the harder it will be to go out there next time.” Not that I wanted her to have a next time. In fact, if I could manage to get her to never leave the apartment again, I would be a very happy man. I knew that was highly unlikely.

  “That’s what Dad said.” She sniffed, wiping away the last of her tears with her palms. “He said I was lucky to have gotten in and out without getting hurt myself. That I was a good little soldier, and I got the job done, and that was all that mattered.”

  “Well, to him it is all that mattered. But to me, what matters is that you were strong enough to do what you had to do. You did the right thing instead of the easy thing. And you saved Jarrod. I appreciate that you saved me, too, but the fact that you saved him will always be what I am most proud of you for.”

  She smiled, a wide, bright Reagan smile. It made me hug her tighter, and even though it hurt like hell, it was the best hug we’d ever shared. She helped me back to the living room, easing me back onto the sofa so I could listen to their story about the prom and what a big hit they were together.

  When I started to nod off, Reagan decided she had to leave. She kissed my forehead and whispered that she was proud of me, too. She hugged Jarrod and left, leaving us alone for the first time in too long.

  “You know,” he said, sitting next to me again. “It’s a shame that you’re all hurt right now.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked, smiling.

  “Because this is the first time in days we’ve had the apartment to ourselves while you’ve been conscious. Plus you’re not wearing a shirt. And I love you without a shirt on.”

  “I love you always,” I said, holding his wrist and pulling him down for a kiss.

  “Is it bad that, even though you look like shit, I want to fuck you silly?” he asked, his lips still against mine.

  “No, but there is no way—”

  “I know,” he cut me off. He backed away, looking at my chest and trailing a finger lightly over the cuts. “I am so sorry about all of this.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Are you? Okay, I mean?” I was worried he’d be angry about Skip. They’d been friends and sometimes lovers for a very long time. It would have been totally understandable if he’d been pissed that Skip was dead.

  “I think I’m still too angry at Skip to be sorry he’s dead. I’m sure there will be days I’ll miss him, but for now, I’m just happy the people that I care about are safe.”

  I put my hand over his which had stopped on my chest. “So am I.”

  He kissed me again. “You need to sleep. It’s getting late, and you’ve had more excitement than your injuries can handle for one night. In case you need anything, I’ll stay right here until dawn comes. All right?”

  I nodded, keeping my hand on his until I finally fell asleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  By Monday, I was up and moving around much more steadily. My father brought back the Army doctors for one more round of blood tests, and everything still came back negative. They re-stitched a few of the wounds and left. My father went with them, not saying a word about Jarrod or Reagan or anything that had happened. Apparently, now that everything was fine, he could go back to being the absentee father which was actually the way I preferred him most of the time.

  When night fell, Jarrod came into the living room and was surprised to see me sitting up on the couch watching television.

  “You look like you’re feeling better,” he said, bending over to kiss me.

  “Much better, thank you. And you look sexy as hell, but then, you always do.”

  He wore faded blue jeans and a tight white T-shirt. His hair was messy, and he was his usual pale self. I wanted to attack him where he stood, but I wasn’t sure I was quite up to that yet. Soon, I hoped. It had been way too long since I’d felt him under me.

  The thought made my cock stir in my pants. Jarrod noticed and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “What?” I asked, a small smile pulling at the corners of my lips. “I’m injured, not dead.”

  “I don’t think it would be a good idea for us to have sex in your condition.” His tone was serious, but the look in his eyes showed he wished he wasn’t.

  “I know.” I sighed. “That doesn’t mean I can’t think about it, does it?”

  “I would hate for you to pull a stitch,” he said, sitting on the floor next to me. “I don’t think your father would ever accept me if I let you bleed half to death because we couldn’t wait just a little longer to fuck.”

  “I don’t think I give a damn what my father thinks.” I turned, reaching out to him. He rose to his knees, taking my hand and laying soft kisses across my knuckles.

  “Mitch, you’re crazy.”

  “Maybe a little.” I pulled my hand out of his, putting it behind his neck so I could pull him to my mouth.

  He kissed me, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, biting just enough to make me moan. I raised my body up into him, ignoring the pain in my torso as best as I could. It hurt, but kissing him felt too good to stop.

  He eased my body back against the couch with a gentle push on my shoulder. His hand slid lightly over my chest, barely grazing the wounds, as if reminding us both that they were there, and this couldn’t happen right then. I didn’t care about the injury. All I cared about was how badly I wanted him.

  “Mitch,” he whispered against my lips.

  I kissed him harder, trying to keep the words from coming out. I didn’t want to hear protests. I didn’t want to hear the truth. Right then, I just wanted to believe I could have him, to be reminded that he really was mine.

  He pushed a little harder on my chest, and I couldn’t hold back the groan. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, just trying to remind me I had been torn to shreds a few days earlier and probably needed to relax for at least a few more.

  I let him go, but he didn’t move off of me. He laid gentle kisses on my neck, over my collarbone and between the marks on my chest. The light play of air and his lips on the wounds made me squirm under him. He kept kissing down my body, over my jeans, to blow his hot breath on my erection.

  “You fucking little tease,” I growled.

  He did it again, this time following it by running his hand up my length. I glanced at him to see
him looking back at me with a wicked smile on his face.

  “I’ll bet, if you held still, I could suck your cock without hurting you.”

  “I’ll bet you’re a bastard, and I want to bend you over the arm of the couch and fuck you until neither of us can walk.”

  “Yes, but your idea is a bad one.” He ran his tongue up the outline of my cock through my jeans. “Mine works out great for both of us.”

  “You know what would be great?” I asked, grabbing his wrists and pulling him up to my face. “A shower.”

  He kissed me, nodding before climbing off the couch. I watched him start taking off his clothes, and I laughed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Well, the nurse said you shouldn’t try to shower alone. So I’m going to have to help you.”

  “The nurse said, huh?”

  “Yeah. I had to help her get you into the bathtub so they could clean up your wounds before they dressed them. She commented on the handrails in the shower and said it was good that we happened to have them, but that you shouldn’t be alone until we’re sure you’re not going to bleed to death.”

  “Well, if those were the nurse’s orders, then I guess, we’d better obey, huh?”

  He helped me off the couch, easing off my jeans and leaving all of our clothes on the living room floor. I stood in the bathroom and watched him test the water and climb into the tub. He held out his arms and helped me in with him. I stood with my back to the spray, afraid to let the water beat on the stitches, even though that was exactly where I wanted the water to hit.

  I tried to raise my arms up to my hair, but the tightness in my chest made me wince and instantly lower my hands. Jarrod helped me wash. I knew he wasn’t trying to imply that I was helpless, but I felt kind of silly being bathed by my lover.

  He gave me a small smile, as if he knew how frustrated I was getting. He lathered up his hands with soap again and dropped to his knees in front of me. My eyes went wide, and he grinned harder.