by Neal, Xavier
“That fucking makes two of us,” I gripe from beside Glove.
Jazz wets her lips but says nothing.
Grim takes a step towards her. “If you put this team at risk for your own selfish fucking reasons so help me God--”
“You'll what?” She challenges back.
Something inside of me snaps. Whether or not what she did was right, no one threatens my girl. No one. Protectively I command, “Step back Grim.”
His eyes sharply move to me in question.
“Now.”
Surprised by my demand his head tilts at me. As I take a step at him, Glove quickly grabs my arm. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa, there cowboy. This isn't a shoot-out. And we're all on the same team, remember?”
“And you're worried about my fucking priorities,” Grim grouses backing away from her. “I'm not the one who just destroyed this team.”
Jazz's lips tremble as she tries to stay strong. “Grim--”
“No Jasmine. That's. On. You.” Without another word he turns, yanks open the door, and heads to Glove's room where I assume the gear is being stored.
Glove tugs on my arm once to indicate I need to keep moving, but my eyes stay on Jazz's hoping that he's wrong. That she did this for a purpose. She had too. She always does. She always has a reason for everything she does. An equation she's always trying to fucking solve. She wouldn't lie to me without a good reason. Not after promising she wouldn't. On a deep breath I follow Glove out of the room to prepare for a mission that I'll be better briefed on when there's time.
Locked and loaded, we pull out of the driveway with Grim driving, Glove in the front seat, and me in the back. In silence we leave the property, the late moonlight leaking through the hanging trees. Leaning against the window I stare at the passing sight in hopes that it'll give me an opportunity to get my mind focused on the job I have to do. Nothing more dangerous to a team than members who don't all have their head in the game. That's how people end up dead.
About forty five minutes into the drive Glove, who's never been great at handling silence very well speaks up. “Hope you're still in shape bro. Would hate for you to get a cramp.”
He turns around and gives me childish smirk.
“Fuck off. I'm up running first thing every morning.” Jazz's body rocking on top of me from this morning flashes quickly in my mind. “Almost first thing.”
“Racing chickens?”
“Why would he race chickens?” Grim grunts.
“'Cause we're there to race him.” Glove looks at Grim like he's the moron. I hide a laugh and he turns back to me. “Did you at least beat the rooster?”
“I didn't race chickens you numb nut.” My body adjusts in the seat.
“Well you didn't race Jazz. Girl doesn't run.”
“She can handle a weapon though.” The memory has my chest bursting with pride.
“Are we talking about actual weapons or the baby making one?” Glove wiggles his eyebrows.
I swallow the cold reality she can't actually make babies. “Both.”
“No,” Grim snaps loudly. “We are not talking about this shit.”
“Why? Because you don't like the idea of me sleeping with one of our bosses?” I bite back. “Only you can mix work and your personal life?”
Glove grimaces as Grim's face glares at me from the review mirror. “Because I don't like the idea of losing one of my brothers, the only fucking people I trust to have watching my six, over the fact he couldn't do what was better for us as a team than what his own fucking dick craved.”
“What'd you just fucking say to me?” I sit up straight in the back seat.
“You fucking heard me,” Grim snarls. “Be fucking thankful I can't pull this fucking car over.”
“Pull it the fuck over!”
Glove shouts, “Both of you! Chill!”
My back hits the seat. I shake my head slowly. Not ready to give this conversation up. Not by a fucking long shot.
“It's so much fucking bigger than you boning your boss Lordy,” Grim growls. “Our entire team is in jeopardy.”
“Let it go,” Glove whispers.
“No,” he fights. “He needs to hear this. Look, I'm glad you got over that photo you carried around for years. I'm glad you found someone worth a damn, believe me, you deserve to have what the two of us do more than we do, but that same thing you found may be the reason this team doesn't exist anymore. Shepard's worried about what secrets have been compromised between the two of you. The integrity of this team. Our abilities to put the mission before anything else. It's always been his worry and the nails in our coffins. Now you fuck our commanding officer? She lied for you two to keep playing house. How's that gonna look? How can anything good fucking come from this?” Feelings of guilt and anxiety alike settle in the pit of my stomach, I divert my eyes down. “Hope it was fucking worth it Lordy. I really fucking do.”
The car ride returns to silence for the remainder of the drive. Eventually we arrive at the designated location, park in the back lot location, adjust our weapons, and cross to meet up with the HORN team we will be assisting.
Three men in similar attire are gathered beside an SUV. While the three of us vary in size, slightly in height, but definitely in looks, these three look almost identical. All of them are approximately 6'2 with slender builds. Olive skin. Brown eyes. If I didn't know any better I'd say they were all brothers.
“Jackets,” one speaks to us stepping forward first. “Hawk.”
“Grim.” He shakes.
Repeating the action he states, “Glove.”
“Lordy,” I introduce myself.
“To my left is Eagle. To my right Raptor.” Bracing his arms across his chest he explains, “The mission is simple. Clean. Only survivors are to be the victims we are rescuing. Clear?”
“Clear.” We agree in unison.
“Grim, I'll need you on the roof for immediate coverage. Glove you're to assist Eagle covering the east exit. Lordy you're to help cover the west with Raptor. When I give the signal shots are to be fired. Make them count.”
Hawk turns back the way he came, which is when Glove whispers, “And we thought you were grouchy, Grim.”
On a death glare he demands, “Do your fucking job, Jacket.”
“Yes sir,” he replies, walking past him to follow Eagle.
“You too,” Grim commands before tilting his head the direction I need to go.
I sharply nod and follow Raptor to the spot we were instructed. At the end of the eerily vacant block, we're each stationed on one of the corners, keeping the exit covered. The drop is going down in the building in between where the four of us are stationed on corners. Any and all exits will have to go past one of us. That's assuming they make it past Grim. And that's a big fucking if.
Alert, I wait with my weapon drawn, back against the brick. Grim's voice comes in my ear piece. “So far we're clear. Glove?”
“Clear.”
“Lordy?”
“Clear,” I reply with a nod.
We stay steady waiting to hear something. Anything. The silence is almost as deafening as if rounds were being fired off. Jazz's words are bouncing around in my head, screaming that she's hardly ever wrong. Gnawing at my conscience, we would have given what she said more attention. She's never wrong. What are the chances she's wrong now?
At that moment, there's a brief movement that catches my eye. Immediately I yell, “Down!” Raptor drops and I fire two rounds into the head of one of The Face's men. Unsure how we missed him approaching I immediately check my six as he checks his unsure of where the attacker appeared from.
“Lordy. You've got incoming,” Grim announces seconds before members with guns drawn rush out of the space where the exchange was supposed to happen. A handful part each direction heading towards each of us positioned. As we're trained to do, as we were instructed to do, we take down every member of muscle that comes our direction. Dropping them effortlessly until no one is left standing creates a false sense of victory as I
stare at their lifeless bodies. These don't look like people The Face deals with. They look like nothing more than your average drug dealers. This feels wrong.
“Grim?” I say into my ear piece.
“Clear,” he sighs, the strain in his voice obvious he's thinking something similar.
Raptor tilts his head at me. “Eagle wants us inside.”
“Roger that,” I say to him. “Grim, Glove, copy?”
“Roger that,” they both reply.
The five of us congregate on the outside together before pushing the back door in bracing ourselves for surprises. We get one. It's just not the kind we're expecting. Three females are blinded folded, gagged, and bound facing a wall. Before any of us can make a move for the females, Eagle who has his weapon drawn, pointed at someone we can't see, holds up a hand to stop us. With the same hand he motions for a man with dark skin, a terrified expression, and surrendered hands to come into our line of sight.
“Tell them, what you told me,” Eagle commands.
In a frightened garble the man cries out, “Prosím, mi neublíži. Čokoľvek chceš. Môžete mať.”
“He keeps repeating that. What does it mean?” Eagle's eyes land on me. “You're the linguistics specialist. Translate.”
“My Slovak is slow, but...” I take a moment to do what I can. “He's begging you not to hurt him. Whatever you want, you can have.”
With his weapon still pointed at the man he says, “We just want the girls and the drugs.”
Struggling I grind out, “Chceme len dievčatá a lieky.”
On another cry his mouth rambles, “Môžete ich mať. Both. Len sme informovaní my by sme sa ich držal noc. Že by sa vyzdvihnúť zajtra. Nemáme tušenie, kto sú, alebo odkiaľ prišli. Obaja boli len láskavosť volal od starého priateľa.”
“You can have them. Both. We were just informed we would be holding them the night. That they would be picked up tomorrow. We have no idea who they are or where they came from. Both were just a favor called in from an old friend.” I translate for him. Without waiting for Eagle to ask anything else I question, “A favor from who? What kind of drugs?” The older gentleman looks like he doesn't understand, so I translate to his language.
He grumbles back at me and my jaw drops in disbelief.
“What?” Grim says sternly. “What did he say?”
“He says those drugs are just sleeping pills he purchased off of his old friend. The one who asked for the favor.” I move my eyes to meet my unit member's. “Tyger.”
“Son of a bitch!” Grim shouts forcing the girls to shutter.
“Get them out of here,” Eagle instructs to his men. “Unbind them and ungag them in the vehicle.”
Following his orders they execute while Eagle tilts his head at us. “Tyger? Is this someone you're chasing? Someone related to The Face?”
“More or less,” Glove grumbles.
“So all this...all this was just basically a set up?” Eagle growls. “Waste of time and resources?”
“A distraction,” Grim clarifies.
“For what?” He barks.
“Unknown.”
“Make it known,” Eagle sneers, placing a bullet in the man's skull. Before any of us have time to object, to attack, to reason with why he could've left him alive, he alerts us. “The order was only the girl's left alive. No exceptions.” Coldly he finishes, “Clean- up crew is already on the scene. Thank you Jackets for your help.”
He walks out past us, his point true, even if we don't want to admit it. We knew it needed to be. It's the harsh nature of the job no matter how shitty it feels to kill someone who could have easily served prison time for his crimes.
Grim shouts loudly, “Fuck!” Bitterly, he snaps, “Let's get the fuck out of here.”
We follow suit briefly getting a glimpse of the clean-up crew that swiftly sweeps in to collect the body of the man, who like the rest of us, was nothing more than a pawn in some scheme we know nothing about.
Our ride home is as quiet as our ride here was except this time instead of wallowing in the amount of unresolved anger we have for one another, it's the aggression of being played. Being fucked over. Being even further from nipping this shit in the bud.
The early morning sun is starting to rise upon our arrival back at my grandparents' home. Unsure of what I'm hearing is correct, I lean slightly forward at the distinct sound of a helicopter taking off. Shooting forward between the seats I see Jazz with her arms around Ma who's hysterical. The minute Grim tosses the truck in park, I fly out not waiting to unload any of my remaining gear to hide the fact I was out doing work when they thought I was in the house asleep.
“Ma! What's wrong?” I rush up the stairs.
“They took him,” she bawls switching from Jazz's arms to mine. “They took my Jody, Rascal...”
“Who took him?” My eyes fall on Jazz who quickly shake her head, it's not the move I'm thinking.
Softly Jazz informs me, “Pa had a heart attack this morning.” When Ma cries louder, she does her best to speak over her, “They just rushed him out on Star Flight to Saint Zachariah's.”
“Come on Ma,” I encourage her towards the house. “Let's get you changed and over there. We'll drive you.”
I shoot a look over my shoulder at Grim and Glove whose expressions deepen. Expecting resistance from Grim, I'm relieved when he announces, “We'll follow you.”
Jazz takes my grandmother away from me to help her get changed, while the three of us unpack, change ourselves, and grab Haven who was nervously waiting in their room, to join us. In my truck, I drive Ma and Jazz who is holding her as she continues crying in the backseat while, Grim follows behind us with Glove and Haven.
The forty five minute drive to the hospital is the longest I’ve ever had. Thankfully, Jazz calms Ma down enough for her to answer the phone calls that are flooding in from the family and what feels like the entire town. As soon we arrive and park, we're directed to the area where we can wait for him.
Sitting together with Jazz on one side of me, and Ma on the other, I'm grateful when Grim and Glove sit down with us, showing our solidarity. No matter the bullshit we've been through or the arguments looming in the dark, I know they're gonna be here for me. Like brothers should be. Like brothers always will be.
A lump crawls up my throat and my girl gives my back a soft rub. For a blissful minute, I let the fact she lied to me disappear. The fact she's always keeping something from me, from us, flutters the fuck away. For just a second I melt into the comforting feeling that I don't have to do this alone.
“Is he alive?” Jo rushes into the waiting area. “Is he alive?”
“Still no word,” I reply softly.
“Why didn't you call us right after you called 911?” Jo shouts.
“Lower your voice,” Ma hushes between snuffles. “You're gonna wake the dead.”
Johnson and Joshua come around the corner with my parents on their tails.
On a sob my mother questions, “Is he...is he...”
“No word yet,” my answer doesn't even receive an acknowledgment. “For Christ sake, even as the man lies possibly dying in the next room, you can't look at me?”
“Not now,” my father tries to shut me up. “Let's not do that while your grandfather dies in the other room.”
My voice raises. “Why do you assume he's dying? Why do you always assume the fucking worst?”
“Lordy.” Grim grabs my attention settling me back into my seat with a look.
“Who the hell is Lordy?” Johnson questions. “And who the hell are these people?”
“These are my brothers,” I inform him without the least bit of remorse in my voice.
“They don't need to be here,” my father declares. “They aren't family.”
“They've been a better family to me than you ever have,” I growl.
“Doesn't mean they should be here. Hell, you shouldn't even be here,” Jo barks at me.
“Jo,” Ma's voice squeaks. “Not now! We're n
ot doin' that now!”
“Why not?” He throws his hands in the air. “When else should we do it? Now's as good as time as any!”
“Damn it Joseph,” Ma snips. “I mean it! That's enough.”
“What do you mean I shouldn't be here? That's my fucking grandfather in there!” I launch to my feet inches from brother's face. “If anyone doesn't deserve to be here, it's you! All you want is Pa's money!”
“At least he's my actual grandfather,” Jo callously sneers. My eyebrows rise and he shakes his head. “How fucking stupid are you, Rascal? You're not a fucking Lord no matter how much he wanted you to be!”
Without hesitating my fist flies to his jaw dropping him where he stood. Not sure what he meant or how there's no way it can possibly be true, I tense my hand tighter to make the next impact hurt worse. So much fucking worse. Before I can take another swing, both arms are being pinned back to prevent further damage.
“Holy shit, Rascal! When'd you learn to hit like that?” Johnson cheers. “Whoooo!”
“Boys!” Ma fusses, but it's too late. Security is in the room.
“Sir,” the guard speaks to me. “We're gonna have to ask you to leave--”
“But it wasn't his fault,” Ma defends me.
“Ma'am.” He holds a hand to her. Turning back to me as they let me loose he repeats, “Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave the premises at the moment.”
“Why me?”
“Because you threw the punch,” Joshua whispers out. “You're the liability.”
“Fine.” I rub my forehead. “Fine. I'll go.”
Ma whimpers, “Rascal...”
Leaning down I plant a kiss on her head. “It's okay Ma. When Pa wakes up I'll be back. Jazz. Stay with her.”
She nods in understanding and Haven volunteers, “I'll stay too.”
I meet her brown eyes that are offering to help, offering to be the strength for her the same way I would be for her at the drop of dime. Holding back tears of thanks I nod. “I appreciate that.”
Grim and Glove rise to their feet insisting to drive me back. After I toss my keys to Jazz, I walk past my bloodline, beside the guard, his explanation or requirements not registering to me whatsoever. The only thing running through my mind right now is the fact the only father I've ever had my entire life, the first person to ever believe I was worth a damn is fighting for his existence and I can't be in the same fucking building because that's how low my family is. I should've never fucking come back to this place. All it's ever done is try drown me. To kill me from the inside out and if Pa dies...it's finally succeeded.
