by A. E. Via
“there must be trouble in paradise if you’re here looking like that, wallowing in whatever it is you’re wallowing in.” Duke lit his cigar.
Judge walked over and dug in his bag for another sugar cane and popped it in his mouth before sitting opposite of Duke on the couch. He’d smoked about three packs of cigarettes since his father had passed and he realized just how much he missed him already. Then coupled with Michaels, Judge wasn’t dealing with the stress to well. But he was trying to get back on track. He looked at the muted television and watched Sports Center with closed captioning.
“All right. So we can’t fuck anymore, but we can still talk, right?”
Judge looked at Duke. Maybe he needed to talk to someone but he didn’t want to make Duke feel shitty.
“It’s cool, man.” Duke took a shallow inhale. “I’m not gonna cry.”
Judge chuckled lightly. Duke got up and poured them both two fingers of Scotch and sat back down waiting for Judge to talk. After putting back his first glass and the refill Judge spoke in a pained whisper. “I fucked up, Duke. I tossed him aside like he meant nothing. Now he wouldn’t take me back if I begged.”
“You sure?” Duke exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Have you even tried?”
Judge steepled his hands in front of him and listened to what Duke had to say.
Chapter Thirty-six
Michaels stared at the phone for another hour willing it to ring again, but it didn’t. Judge’s whisky rough voice powered through his phone’s speaker and gripped his heart tight. He wanted to say so much but his mouth wouldn’t work. Then when Judge said he only wanted to know if he was okay, Michaels hung up. Love and hate jumbled up inside him. He couldn’t take it. He knew Judge didn’t want him but he couldn’t hear him say it again. He looked out the window of their family’s cabin. A large one-story log-cabin style home that was completely modernized on the inside because none of them could do without Wi-Fi or a Keurig and damn sure not without satellite television. So the outside looked classic. Rustic logs and cobblestones. And the inside looked twenty-first century.
He was required to text Day every two hours which was getting on his nerves too. Day said he was on suicide watch until further notice and if he didn’t text then he would drive out there. Michaels would rather text then deal with anyone right now. He knew Day was kidding about the suicide thing, but Michaels had seen enough depression to know that he was drowning in it, so he wouldn’t fault his team for wanting to be sure he was alright, he would be the same way with them.
He’d showered and made up his room with new linens. He had a four-poster king-sized bed in his room but his pride and joy was on the private deck that was connected to his room. Outside, he had a queen-sized canopy covered bed. It looked like something out of a romantic island resort. The large awning protected it from weather but the mattress was huge and completely weatherproof. All he had to do was go out there and add linen to it. When the sun set on the lake it was breathtaking. He used to spend so much time out there, well into the evening, reading and fantasizing. He’d turn on his overhead lights and listen to the sounds in the forest to his right and watch the moon glisten off the blackness of the lake. Now it all seemed too much. It hurt. He’d always wanted to bring someone special out here to see this part of him, he’d wanted to bring Judge. Wanted to let Bookem chase the squirrels and rabbits on their land behind the cabin.
Michaels went to the linen room and carried the silky white sheets outside and started making the bed up. He didn’t know how long he’d hide here away from the world and it’s cenacle ways, but if he stayed a while, he needed to retreat to his oasis. After everything was perfect he went back inside and closed the double doors to his side of the deck. He looked at his watch and hurried to his phone to text Day.
I’m still alive.
I know.
Michaels shook his head. If he didn’t eat soon he would be dead… from starvation. He turned on an audio book and went about making a pot of spaghetti that would be way too much for him to eat. When he was done he went into the wine cellar and chose a medium-bodied red Chianti. He sat silently while he listened to Patterson’s latest thriller, opting to forgo his romance novels for right now. No need to rub salt in the wound.
He’d almost finished the bottle of red and thought about going to the liquor cabinet for something stronger but changed his mind. He had to stop getting rip-roaring drunk just to sleep. It was only temporary help. It only make things worse in the long run. He cleaned up in silence and turned out all the lights, retreating to his bedroom. He hated how quiet it was without his parents in the living room arguing over a game of monopoly or laughing ridiculously to whatever they could find on comedy central. His dad could be a real prick to him, but he never was to his wife. He went out of his way to make her smile.
He was accepting that he wouldn’t have that, but at least he still had work. He had to be grateful for something or else he’d never leave. Michael sat on the side of his bed and listened at the darkness. When he got tired of that he stretched out across the mattress and closed his eyes until sleep came a long time later.
********
Judge straightened his spine and walked back into God’s office. The looks on their faces told Judge what he’d been contemplating his whole way over. They knew. God didn’t stand to great him this time but his partner sure did. He knew he’d have to standoff with one of them, but he was kind of hoping for God. Day’s mouth was too damn slick.
“I outta kick you in your ass and give you brain damage.” Day said by way of greeting.
Ouch. See what he meant. How do you reply to that? He chewed the cane harder and sat down in front of God’s desk, meeting his sharp green eyes with his own. He tried to relay his apologies without actually voicing it but it didn’t look like that would fly. Michaels’ team stood around, watching him or waiting to pounce, he wasn’t sure. All he wanted was Michaels, then he’d deal with them. He went by Michaels’ apartment and there was at least a weeks’ worth of newspaper in front of his door and his neighbor said she hadn’t seen him in days. He found Michaels’ parent’s address easy enough, it’s what he did. But after watching their house for a day, he realized Michaels wasn’t there. That meant his team. He was staying with one of them, so instead of Judge wasting time and scoping out each one of their houses, he bit the bullet and came in to ask.
“Day.” God said but Day didn’t stop glaring.
“Where is he?” was Judge’s only question.
“Why?” Day snapped. “Did you finally realize there’s not a better fish in the sea?”
Judge gritted his teeth. “Look Day. I realized you don’t like me very much right now but -”
Day barked a humorless laugh. “Like… did you just say like? Judge you are way beyond me not liking you. You’re not even standing close to the word like. Your’ standing two blocks from the corner of despise and hate.”
Judge snorted. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you hate me or not.”
“You should. But, regardless. I wouldn’t tell you where Michaels is even if your life depended on it.”
Judge broke eye contact with Day and growled at God. “Tell me. What type of man buts his nose into another man’s love life?”
“A best friend, a good boss, a hero. I could keep going.” Day retorted quickly.
“Don’t.”
“A conqueror.” Day added for good measure.
Judge gripped the handles of the chair, he wanted to pop the smug Lieutenant in his forehead but that wouldn’t go over so well.
“Let me ask you something.” Day propped himself up on the corner of God’s desk, leaning in when he spoke. “Did you suck the heart and soul out of my best friend for sport or did you receive some kind of nourishment from it?”
Judge gritted his teeth. He wasn’t sure how much more he was going to take.
“Day. Settle down.” This time it was the dark man that spoke. The Sergeant. Syn was his name, he believed. He stood and cam
e closer, his corded forearms on display since his dress shirt sleeves were rolled up. “I’d like to hear what he has to say.”
No one else spoke after Syn and Judge respected the hell out of the guy so he faced him and spoke. “I can’t apologize to him if I can’t find him. I was wrong for pushing him away like I did, but… I was… I was confused.”
Day exaggeratedly threw his hands up in the air. “Someone please get me Guinness Book of World Records on the line and let them know we have the most pitiful fuckin’ excuse of all time for them.”
“You know what. Fuck you!” Judge barked.
“Fuck you too!” Day yelled back. “Tell me! What type of man sends someone’s friend back to them completely defective and broken?” Day fumed, turning his back to Judge and plopping down at his desk. “You. That’s who!”
“Enough!” God cut over the arguing. He stood to his towering six four, his southern drawl more prominent but his voice ever-commanding even in the large space. He turned his eyes back on Judge. “You got forty-eight hours to bring our brother back. Back the way he was when you met him.”
Judge sighed in annoyance at being put on a time restriction. “Fine. I’ll bring him back.”
“Good. Forty-eight hours to bring back my sniper.”
Judge stood. “Where is he?”
“You’re the tracker. Find him.” God snarled and threw his jacket on. His team followed him out of the office. All of them left Judge standing there alone. They would never speak to him again if he didn’t’ make this right. Frankly. He couldn’t’ blame them. Judge went over to Michaels’ desk and used his switch blade to pop open the locked drawer. He rummaged through the few items, office supplies, papers that contained research, photos of suspects, buildings, all work-related information. Nothing personal. Judge slammed the drawer back. Fuck! Yes, he did find people for a living but this wasn’t TV - everything wasn’t wrapped up in an hour - he was good but he always had time to calculate. But most importantly, he was used to finding criminals. The criminal mind is an ignorant mind. Michaels wasn’t ignorant. He knew where a person would run if they were running from incarceration. Where does one go when they’re running from hurt?
Syn came back into the office and tossed a piece of paper in front of him with an address scribbled on it in chicken scratch, landing on Michaels’ desk. “I don’t have time for you to play hide and seek. Go get him. He’s at his parent’s cabin in Palmetto. It’s secluded but it’s only forty-five minutes from here.”
Judge could’ve kissed the man, but instead he stood, shook his hand and hurried out the door. He only had forty-five minutes to come with one helluva plan.
Chapter Thirty-seven
It was late afternoon and he had done all the cleaning he could stand and watched as many movies that his eyes could take, before he had to call it quits. He dragged their small row boat from the shed and pushed it out onto the large man-made lake. This was one of his and father’s favorite things to do out here. Fish. They’d bring a twelve-pack and some sandwiches and sit out there all day. Peacefulness. Until his mom called out to them that dinner was ready. He wished his life was still that simple.
Michaels baited his hook and cast his line back out into the murky water. The fish was stocked with various types of trout, perch and mullets. It was the middle of Fall but the warm should still be warm enough to catch some dinner. That would consume half his night, then he had to figure out what he’d do to get through the rest. He might have to take a couple shots but he wouldn’t get drunk. Michaels reeled his line in and cast back out. The repetition was calming. He felt a few nibbles on his bait but no bite.
He let his pole rest against the side and reached in his cooler for a bottle of water. He’d finished his sandwich two hours ago and the last of his four beers. He should’ve brought more. Knowing that he could sit on that lake for hours. The sun had begun to set and the lake shimmered in the dusk light. He propped his hands behind his head and laid back to enjoy the scenery.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, he knew it was Day. He clicked on the message icon and saw it was Judge. He sat up straight, his breathing accelerating as he read it.
Will you hang up if I call you?????
Michaels blew out a breath. He didn’t know what they could possibly talk about. Being friends. Buddies. Getting together for fantasy football. What? Michaels shook his head. No. He couldn’t be friends with Judge. How can you be friends with someone that treated you like shit? He buzzed again. Another message. This one plain and simple.
Please.
He chose to ignore it. That was best. A few minutes went by and his phone rung disturbing his thoughts. He knew it was him. His heart thundered behind his ribcage. Ringing, ringing. He picked up on the last ring right before the voicemail. He didn’t speak, just held the phone to his ear.
Finally, Judge spoke. “Thank you for answering. Please don’t hang-up.”
When Michaels didn’t reply, Judge continued. “I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. I’d be too. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was stupid and scared as shit, man.”
There was a long pause before Judge spoke again and shocked the hell out of him. “Pick up your pole.”
Michaels frowned. What?
“Pick up your pole, you haven’t had a bite in the last three hours, but you do now.” There was a tinge of humor in Judge’s voice.
Michaels’ head jerked up to look at his line and sure enough the tip was bowed over. He yanked up his pole and began to reel his line in quickly. It was a good solid bite, he could feel the weight of the catch. As he winded the hook in closer he saw it was a good sized speckled trout. He used his net to get it inside the boat. He unhooked it and dropped it in his cooler on the ice.
With his hands at his sides he turned slowly and saw Judge sitting with his back against one of the large trees next to the dock. Bookem was lying down next to him waiting right along with his master. Although Michaels was only about one hundred and fifty feet away they held eye contact for a good while before he turned and sat back down. How did he find him? Had to be Day. He was the only one that knew he was here. Had Judge really been there watching him for hours?
He hated to admit but the man looked so fucking good. He wanted to grab those oars and row back as fast as he could, but why set himself up for more disappointment. His phone buzzed again.
Come talk to me.
Michaels debated it for a while. Wasn’t like he could sit out here on this boat all night. Darkness was falling fast and soon the misquotes would be too much plus he was hungry. He reeled in his line and picked up his oars. By the time he got back to the boat dock, Judge was there. He helped him pull the boat up and cover it.
“Hey.” Judge croaked.
Instead of greeting Judge back, Michaels squatted and patted Bookem happily showing the big beast that he’d really missed him too. Giving Judge a bored look, he stood back up, grabbed his cooler and marched back up the slight hill into the cabin. Michaels was sharp and lucid, became angry and defensive, all of those unwanted emotions expertly hidden behind a mask of nonchalance. He heard Judge’s footsteps close behind him and the low whistle he let out when he came through the door.
“Damn. This is cool as shit. You wouldn’t expect it to look like this from the outside.”
Michaels locked the door behind them and faced Judge. “Your dad.”
Judge dropped his head shaking it just slightly.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. Michaels pulled his catch out and set it in the sink. Judge leaned against the island in the middle of the spacious kitchen his midnight eyes drilling a hole in the back of Michaels’ head. When he walked by Judge snagged his bicep to stop him. Michaels couldn’t look into those charcoal eyes so he kept his own trained on the floor. Michaels suppressed his shudder when he felt the tip of Judge’s finger graze the stitched scar on his forehead. The tingling sensation that Judge’s calloused finger left behind had him wanting to fold already.
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“Forgive me.” Judge whispered.
He’d understood why Judge had to run off like he did, but if he was going to push him away every time something bad happened or shit got real, then he could stay gone. Michaels snatched his hand away and went to his bedroom to clean up. He closed the door behind him, his head swimming with too many thoughts. Judge wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t wanting more than friendship. But Michaels wasn’t sure about splaying his heart back out there just so Judge could spat on it again. Michaels pinched the bridge of his nose. He went into his bathroom and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it. He avoided the mirror the best he could not wanting to see the scratches and bruises, especially the black and blue discoloring still showing around his throat. He didn’t need any sympathy looks or a pity fuck.
Michaels rotated his head back and forth, letting the hot water beat down on his aching muscles. If he wasn’t so hungry, he’d stay back there all night, let Judge stew for a while like he’d done him.
He put on a pair of gray lounging pants and an APD t-shirt. He slipped his feet into his favorite leather house slippers and went back into the main room. Judge was standing in exactly the same place.
“Can I speak to you?”
“I’m going to make myself some dinner. I’m starved. You can talk. Can’t guarantee I’ll listen though.” Michaels saw the hurt on Judge’s face. Good. Let him swin in rejection for a while. Let the tides of broken hearts rise and drown him too. Michaels wanted Judge to feel the hurt he’d felt a million times over. His head swirling with wanting to do right and wanting revenge.
He grabbed his fish-scaler and got to work. Rosemary trout with a cherry tomato sauce would be delicious and easy.
“As much as it terrifies me to give this to you, I’m going to do it anyway because you deserve it and if you tell me to hit the road than I know I deserve that too. Here goes.” Michaels heard Judge inhale a deep breath before he began to speak again. “I had a partner many years ago. His name was Brent Reynolds. We met when we were enlisted men. It was only months before we fell in love. We were in the same battalion, both trackers. It was him that thought of us running out own bounty hunter business.” Judge sighed again but Michaels stayed focused on his food, listen intently for Judge to continue. Brent obviously being a sensitive subject for him to discuss. “He was an amazing man. Smart, sharp as a tack but way too trusting. After we retired from active duty, we started the business and we were a damn good team. I hadn’t worked with anyone that good until… until… you. Which also terrified me.” Judge cleared his throat. “Well, long story short, we were two years into the business when he was killed by one of our bountys. He’d put his gun away when the man posed like he was coming willingly. As soon as Brent let his guard down the bounty pulled a knife and stabbed him twice in his side before I even knew what was happening.” Judge’s voice lowered to barely a murmur. “Brent bled out in my arms. Ever since then I was content with not having a partner, in any sense of the word. Then you… you came and… none of my rules were holding up. Next thing I know, death had showed up again.
