by Carol Lynne
Lucky gently pushed Flint out of the way. “I’ll do it.”
Flint took a step back and glanced at Dray.
Dray shook his head, letting Flint know not to argue with Lucky.
“I’ve given Mr Brick a shot of morphine. He’s sleeping now, but he told me he doesn’t want me here,” the nurse informed them. “Even though his body’s shutting down, he appears to be of sound mind, so I have to follow his wishes.”
Dray nodded in understanding. “What should we do?”
“Make sure he stays propped up as much as possible. Actually, he’d probably be more comfortable in his chair, but he wouldn’t listen to me.” She eyed Flint, Dray and Lucky. “If the three of you can manage to carry him in there, he’ll rest a lot easier.”
“Okay,” Dray agreed.
“I know Sylvia showed you how to give morphine injections if he needs them, but you might want to show whoever else is staying with him,” she said.
Dray thought about Brick’s request to help him die and quickly shut the door on that thought. “Thank you.”
She handed Dray a business card. “If you need me, call me. Even if it’s just to talk.”
Dray glanced at the card. “Thanks, Janice. I appreciate you rushing over.”
Janice squeezed Dray’s arm. “I know this isn’t easy to hear, but it helps them pass if they know you’re ready for it. I know it sounds crazy, but patients tend to hold on for their family, even through the pain.”
Sylvia, the nurse he’d met a week earlier, had told him pretty much the same thing. “Yeah.” The problem was, he wasn’t ready to let go of Brick, and he knew for a fact Lucky wasn’t ready either.
* * * *
Wincing, Lucky scooted out of Dray’s comforting embrace to rub his back. The damn metal bar under the foldout sofa’s thin mattress had been torture all night long. He was in the process of sitting up when he noticed Brick’s eyes were open and staring right at him. “Morning,” he whispered, trying not to wake Dray.
Brick’s gaze swung between Lucky and Dray. “He’s a good man,” Brick rasped.
“Yeah,” Lucky agreed. He knew he’d been caught in a compromising position, but wasn’t sure what to say or how much to admit.
Brick lifted the oxygen mask to his mouth for several moments before speaking again. “I knew, but I didn’t want you to make the same mistake Dray did. Was I wrong to bring him back here?”
Wearing only his underwear, Lucky reached for his jeans on the floor. “He’s good for the gym.”
“But is he good for you?” Brick asked, his voice barely audible.
Lucky stood and pulled his jeans up. “I’m not good for him.” He walked over and knelt beside Brick’s recliner. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Are you disappointed in me?”
Brick lifted a shaking hand and laid it on top of Lucky’s head. “I’ve never been disappointed in you, son. Don’t you know that?”
Lucky ducked down and rested his forehead against Brick’s leg as tears began to run down his cheeks. Christ. He’d cried more in the last two weeks than he had in his entire life combined. Why the fuck couldn’t he get his emotions under control? He reached up and pressed Brick’s hand tighter against the back of his head, needing the closeness.
“I doubt Jax’ll be back. I scared him last night, so I can’t blame him, but I need you to look out for him, and I need you to make sure he knows that I love him, just like I love all you boys.”
Snot dripped from Lucky’s nose as he fought to keep it together. He nodded, but held onto Brick’s hand even tighter. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I don’t want to go,” Brick said, his voice fading even more, “but I need you to wake up Dray and call Flint and Mac.”
“I’m awake,” Dray said. “I’ll make the calls.”
“One of you, put on one of my tapes for me,” Brick ordered.
Lucky wiped the wetness from his face as he did what Brick wanted. He found a DVD from one of his first big fights and slid it into the player. He glanced toward the bed, but Dray was no longer there. “Let’s see if you remember this one,” he told Brick as he returned to sit beside the chair.
Brick started to chuckle when a nineteen-year old Lucky filled the screen. Unfortunately, his mirth was cut short when he started to cough again.
Lucky jumped up and urged Brick to put the oxygen mask back on. “Do you need a shot?”
Brick shook his head. “I want to be awake.”
Lucky turned up the volume before handing the remote to Brick. “I’ll be right back.”
Brick didn’t look away from the television, but he nodded in understanding.
Lucky found Dray in the kitchen, staring out of the small window at the building across the alley.
“Yeah,” Dray said into the phone. “Anything’s fine.” He must have sensed Lucky behind him because he turned before ending the call. “See ya in a bit.” He hung up and set the cell on the counter. “Mac’s gonna bring over some food in case more people stop by.”
“That’s nice.” Lucky wanted to walk into Dray’s embrace and never let go, but he couldn’t make himself move. “You think today’s the day?”
“Yeah.” Dray pinched the bridge of his nose before fanning his hand out to wipe across his closed eyelids. “I’m gonna run down and pick Jax up. We’ll just close the gym for now.”
“Okay.” Lucky shuffled his feet, feeling uneasy, like his body needed to move but his brain wasn’t even in the same room.
“I heard what you said to Brick about you not being good for me, and I want you to know that’s not true. I’m a better man for knowing you.” Dray picked up his keys from the counter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Are you going to be all right until Flint gets here?”
“I’m fine,” Lucky lied. He needed a moment to think about what Dray had just told him.
Dray stopped in front of Lucky, reached up to grab Lucky behind the neck, and pulled him close. He pressed his lips against Lucky’s ear and spoke, “Brick needs to believe you’re going to be okay without him.”
Lucky nodded.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can try like hell to push me away, but I’m as stubborn as that old man in there when it comes to not giving up on you,” Dray whispered.
Chapter Eleven
Dray stood outside on the fire escape as Mac smoked a cigarette, simply because he couldn’t stand to see Lucky fall apart any longer. The mood inside the apartment was depressing, and it had been that way for the last two days. The longer it went on, the more he began to curse himself for not putting Brick out of his misery. According to Sylvia, it was a matter of hours, but she’d said that almost fourteen hours earlier.
The situation had gotten so bad Jax had asked to go back to the gym. It seemed even Jax couldn’t take being around the broken man who’d refused to leave Brick’s side. “I’m worried about Lucky. He hasn’t eaten a damn thing in two days,” Dray said.
“He’ll eat when he’s ready,” Mac replied before putting his cigarette out against the railing and flicking it to the alley below.
“I need a favor,” Dray began. “Jax’s dad has been showing up at the school looking for him. Eventually, I think we’re going to have to bring the authorities in, but before that happens, I wonder if you’d consider becoming a foster parent.”
Mac shook his head. “I fucked up with my own kid. I can’t do it again.”
Lucky had told Dray the story of Mac’s son, but that didn’t stop Dray from believing Mac deserved a second chance. “Jax needs you,” Dray said.
“No, Jax needs you,” Mac pointed out.
“Look at me. Do I really look like the kind of man they’re going to find suitable to care for a teenage boy? Forget the fact that I’m covered in ink. What do you think they’re going to say when they find out I’m gay?” Dray argued.
“Gay people become foster parents all the time. You just need to believe in yourself. Get off your ass and do what needs to be done.”
Dray grunted. “Why’re you being such an asshole about this?”
“Because Lucky’s not the only one who’s in need of a little redemption.”
The window opened and Lucky stuck his head out. “Brick wants you, Dray.”
Dray stared at Mac for another moment. He wanted to tell Mac that he’d let people down once before and falling short again would break him, but he kept his fears to himself and crawled back through the window. He followed Lucky to Brick’s bedroom, where they’d carried Brick a few hours earlier.
“Why don’t you get something to eat?” Dray urged Lucky.
“I’m fine.”
“Go eat,” Brick ordered as much as his weakened condition would allow. “I want to talk to Dray alone.”
Lucky scooped Gatsby up and left the bedroom, looking like he’d been kicked.
Dray leaned over the bed and kissed Brick’s forehead. “How’s the pain?”
“Bad,” Brick replied. “But no morphine.”
“You’ve always been a stubborn sonofabitch.” Dray sat down in the chair Lucky had carried in earlier.
Brick slid the mask off his face long enough to say, “Lucky.”
“I know.” Dray took a calming breath. “I’ll help him get through it.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to get through to Lucky, but he wouldn’t be pushed away.
“I have pictures in my desk. I need you to get them before Lucky.” It seemed to take Brick forever to get the words out, and once he had, Dray wasn’t sure he understood them.
“What kind of pictures?” Dray asked.
Brick glanced toward the door. “He gets bruised a lot. I thought it was his mom, but it kept happening after she’d gone to prison. I have pictures.” He reached for Dray’s hand and squeezed. “I need you to find them and destroy them.”
Dray nodded. “Alana told me she forced him to punish himself as a child. Do you think he’s still doing it?”
Tears filled Brick’s eyes. “He’s a good boy.”
“I know,” Dray agreed.
“Take care of him.”
“I will,” Dray promised.
A knock sounded at the door and Lucky stuck his head inside. “Brick? Leon’s on the phone. He’d like to talk to you for a minute.”
“Yeah.” Brick waved his fingers, asking for the phone.
With a shake of his head, Dray stood and kissed Brick on the forehead once more. “I’ll see ya later, old man.” He stepped out of the room and waited to see if Lucky would follow him.
When Lucky appeared in the doorway, Dray smiled. “I’m going to run down and check on Jax,” Dray said, looking around. “Where’d Mac go?”
“Trish called. Jose didn’t show up, so he had to go down to the diner, but he said he’d be back as soon as he got things settled.”
Alone for the first time in almost two days, Dray took the opportunity to wrap his arms around Lucky. “Did you eat something?”
Lucky shook his head. “I tried earlier, but it didn’t stay down.” He pressed his cheek against Dray’s shoulder. “This is worse than I thought it’d be.”
Dray held him tighter. “I know, babe. I wish I could make it easier.” Guilt settled in his gut. He could have made it easier, still could, if only he was strong enough to do what Brick had asked of him. “You want me to stay until either Flint or Mac get back?”
Lucky kissed Dray’s neck. “I’m fine. I’ll sit with Brick.”
Christ. Despite everything going on around them, Dray wanted to bury his cock deep inside Lucky. He yearned to lose himself in Lucky’s arms. To lose the heartache if only for a few minutes. He wanted to tell Lucky he loved him again, but Lucky didn’t look like he could handle anything else at the moment. Instead, he cupped Lucky’s face and leaned in for a deep kiss.
Lucky opened immediately, but pulled away before Dray was ready. “I need to get back to Brick.”
And I need to find an envelope of pictures, Dray reminded himself. “Okay. I have my phone, so call if you need me or if anything changes.” Lucky stared at Dray with an expression Dray couldn’t read. “Lucky? Are you okay?”
“You should probably say goodbye to him, in case he’s gone before you’re done at the gym,” Lucky said.
“I know he can go anytime. That’s why I say goodbye to him every time I leave the room, but I’m worried about Jax,” Dray replied.
“Hang on.” Lucky walked into the kitchen, and Dray could hear cupboard doors opening and closing. When he came back into the living room, he held out a bag.
“What’s this?” Dray asked, opening the sack.
Lucky walked over to the couch and picked up Gatsby from the pillow she’d made a nest in. He gave the growing kitten a kiss on the top of the head before holding her out. “Ask Jax if he can watch Gatsby for me.”
Dray didn’t know that he’d ever loved Lucky more than he did at that moment. He knew how much comfort Gatsby had offered him in the previous hours, and for him to share his security blanket with Jax was the mark of a good man. Why couldn’t Lucky see that?
“I’m sure Jax’ll love to watch Gatsby,” Dray said.
Lucky nodded and rubbed the kitten’s ears for a moment before dropping his hand. “I’ll see you later.”
Dray waited for Lucky to disappear back into Brick’s room before tucking Gatsby more securely under his arm and leaving the apartment.
* * * *
Dray left Jax to play with the kitten while he began the task of going through Brick’s desk. He couldn’t believe the crap he had to sift through. Who knew Brick was such a goddamn packrat. He came across a pile of receipts and pulled one out. It was a rent receipt and not for The Brick Yard.
Looking around the desktop, he found the folder that contained Brick’s will. He’d signed the damn thing, even had a copy, but he’d never taken the time to read it. Sure, it was irresponsible of him, but Brick had already told him he and Lucky would get The Brick Yard. He flipped through the thick packet of papers and was soon lost in legal speak. The one thing he understood was he and Lucky, no middle name, Gunn would inherit the legal holdings of Anthony Douglas Brick.
Shaking his head, he tossed the paperwork onto the desk and continued his search. It took him almost twenty minutes of digging through the drawers, but he finally came up with a large manila envelope marked L.
Dray sat back in the chair and stared at the photographic evidence Brick had gathered. The pictures were all different sizes and apparently in no order, so he started going through them one at a time. Each bruise shown in the photograph was circled in red. On the back, Brick had written the date and, in some cases, a short explanation. Lucky varied in age between thirteen and his current age. No doubt if Brick was healthy, Lucky’s latest bruises would also be included.
“Fuuuck,” Dray drew out.
He shoved the pictures back into the envelope, wondering what the hell to do with them. Brick wanted them destroyed, but if that was the case, why’d he take them and document Lucky’s injuries in the first place? A thought occurred to him. Lucky had Jax take pictures of his bruises after the most recent beating from his father. Had Brick taken them in case Alana sent the cops to his door?
As far as Dray knew, Lucky was the youngest kid Brick had ever taken under his protective wing. Hell, even he remembered the first day Lucky had shown up at The Brick Yard. Dray had already started fighting in amateur matches, so he was heavily into training at the time.
It had been a bitterly cold Chicago winter day and most schools in the city had been closed because of it. Lucky had entered the gym, wearing the thinnest, rattiest jacket Dray had ever seen. He’d walked straight up to one of the gym members and had asked to see the manager. Brick had spotted Lucky from his office window and had already been on his way across the gym. Lucky had squared his malnourished shoulders and had asked Brick if he could hang out in the gym and watch the fighters train.
One look at the near-frozen boy and Brick had struck a deal. Lucky could hang out at the gym a
nytime he wanted, but he’d need to do some chores around the place, for which he’d be paid in cash. Dray had known from experience that it hadn’t been cheap labor Brick had been after. Christ. Dray wondered, not for the first time, just how many lives Brick had saved over the years.
Dray’s phone rang, and he immediately tensed. He pulled the cell out of his pocket and swiped his finger over the screen. “Hey.”
“You need to get over here,” Flint said.
“Is he gone?” Dray asked the question he feared most. Although he’d prepared himself for the news, it still hurt.
“Yeah, and so is Lucky. From the amount of blood on Brick’s bed, I’d say he started vomiting again, died, and Lucky freaked out.”
Confused, Dray shook his head. “Are you telling me Lucky took Brick somewhere?”
“No, I’m telling you Brick’s still in his bed, but he was alone when I got here. I’m assuming Lucky left after Brick died, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Yes you do. Lucky wouldn’t have left Brick’s side otherwise.” An eerie calm passed over Dray at the news of Brick’s death. He’d been prepared for it, and although he knew the realization would hit him eventually, for the moment his thoughts were on Lucky.
“Maybe Lucky’s on his way there. Could be something he didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” Flint offered.
“Yeah, maybe.” Dray stared at the envelope in his hand. “Call Mac and then call either Sylvia or Janice. I’ll tell Jax and wait around for a few minutes to see if Lucky shows up.” His gaze landed on the will. He’d have to call Brick’s attorney as well, but there was no rush. Brick had already taken care of his funeral arrangements.
“Okay,” Flint agreed.
Dray hung up and tried Lucky’s cell, but as predicted, the call went to voicemail. “Hey, babe. I need you to call me.”
Before he could stop himself, he upended the metal trashcan that had to be an antique and dumped everything on the floor. After setting it in the middle of the room, he dropped the photos inside. It only took a moment to locate an old book of matches in Brick’s drawer and within seconds, the photographic evidence of Lucky’s past started to burn. It took poking around to separate the pictures and several more matches, but eventually, the photos were reduced to a pile of ash.
