Shiloh stopped short of crossing the invisible barrier that seemed to cordon off the part we’d rented out and the rest of the restaurant. She watched me, and I watched her right back.
My heart ached heavily in my chest, and I cursed Sam for the thousandth time since he’d left me that night with his parting words. Stay away from my sister.
Finally coming to some sort of decision, she turned on her heel and walked to the front of the restaurant. Speaking with the cashier, she handed over her money. Moments later the cashier handed her a small to-go bag and a receipt. When the cashier tried to hand her another smaller bag, Shiloh shook her head and said something else.
Both sets of their eyes turned and locked on me, and I had to wonder what was going on. The answer came shortly after Shiloh’s departure when the same cashier brought the small bag over to me and set it down quietly before turning to leave.
Luke and Downy gave me raised brows, but I ignored them and opened the bag. My heart warmed at the piece of chocolate cake dominating the bottom of the bag. I grinned and pulled it out, picked up my fork, and dug in. Downy and Luke watched in annoyance since the Captain had just said we didn’t need any dessert a few minutes before Shiloh walked inside the door.
Ignoring their pleading looks and the droning voice of the captain, I thought about how miserable I’d been in the last two weeks. Sitting in front of the TV made me feel like I was betraying Shiloh, but I felt like I’d betray Sam if I went against his wishes.
It was getting increasingly harder by the minute not to call or text her though. I wondered what Sam had told her, which then made my mind drift off into darker places that my ex was firmly implanted, and I forcibly ripped my mind of that particular train of thought.
There was one thing I was sure of right now, and that was that I hoped I continued to have the strength to stay away from her. Although, it wasn’t looking too good from at present.
Shiloh
Three weeks later
My eyes wandered over to the empty house at the end of the lot, and I had to stop the despair that started to course through my bruised heart.
I hadn’t seen James in twenty-two days, fourteen hours, and five minutes.
The night of the police station incident, I’d driven around for two hours before deciding that I needed a woman’s perspective. What it turned out to be was an impromptu wine fest, and I was drunker than I’d ever been three hours later.
The next morning, I’d woken up to a pounding headache, but a much clearer head in Sam and Cheyenne’s guest bedroom. After speaking with my brother for a few minutes about nothing of consequence, I’d then tried to go see James. However, after searching for him at his place, and then the garage, I was told that he hadn’t shown up for work that morning.
It wouldn’t be for another four days that I became aware of the silent tension that was going on at the garage. I’d shown up another time to see if James was available to talk, and was told, yet again, that he wasn’t there and hadn’t shown up. ‘Hadn’t been there in well over four days now.’
Although Jack had said it with a light tone, I’d been able to read the worry that had crossed over his features before he’d managed to mask them. It continued ever since. No one’s seen hide nor hair of him. He wasn’t answering the phone, and pretty much cut himself off from his friends and loved ones.
Cheyenne was being quiet about it all, making it a point to change the subject when her big brother was asked about. Which broke my heart, because most of the time it was me asking her about him. She acted as if I’d done something wrong, and I really wished I knew what the heck it was.
Sighing, I forced myself to walk to Free’s office.
I came to a sudden halt when I entered, startled that the entirety of the Free family, minus James and Janie, were all crowded around a small flat screen TV that hung on the wall. It was a little after one in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and my only day off this week. It for sure wasn’t all of these people’s day off.
“...want to reiterate that no news has been released on the police officer that was shot. The SWAT team was getting into position when a shot rang out from the building across the street. Another one followed shortly after the first. A man fell two floors from the top of the old Coca Cola plant as a result of that shot. He was pronounced dead on arrival at GSMC. The chief of Kilgore Police has yet to issue a statement...” The announcer on the TV was explaining what looked like a shooter that was picking off people that passed through downtown.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Everyone startled and looked at me, even the men. Sam looked guilty. Cheyenne looked terrified. Yet not one person said anything, which made the fear for those people take on a different tone. One that was fear for someone I loved.
“What is it?”
When no answer came, I turned to my brother, imploring him with my eyes to tell me.
He’d just opened his mouth to say something when a police car pulled into the lot, stopping Sam’s explanation in its tracks. We all watched as a man, who I now knew as Luke, stepped out of the car.
He was in what had to be the standard SWAT gear. Black cargo pants, black shirt with SWAT spelled out on the chest, and a black Kevlar vest. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in agitation.
Which if what I’d just seen on the news was even half as bad as it sounded, was enough to make anyone’s hair crazy. He walked with purposeful strides up to the office door and walked in. Directly to Cheyenne.
He glanced around the room and hesitated as he saw everyone gathered there, but seemed to come to some decision before turning back to Cheyenne and addressing her.
“Your brother was shot. He’s completely fine, being seen at GSMC, but he wanted me to come here and tell you that he couldn’t make the dinner date the two of you had planned, and asked that you pick Janie up from school.” Luke said softly.
Sam stiffened, and Cheyenne nearly collapsed into his arms.
Not thinking twice, I turned and ran to my car. The drive to the hospital took fifteen minutes. Partially because there was no traffic, but mostly because I was driving a hundred and ten down the highway.
When I pulled into the hospital parking lot, I took a few minutes to compose myself before I bullied my way into the ER. One look at my face had my hospital contact, Marty Sims, turning and walking away, purposefully ignoring me as I stomped my way into the Major ER.
James’ tattooed back brought my attention to the far side of the room. A nurse in her twenties with perky boobs and painted on eyebrows tried to stop me from cutting across the room, but I ignored her. James’ head popped up and turned to the commotion, and his sharp eyes locked on to me as I barreled towards him.
James was sitting with his legs hanging over the side of a hospital bed. His bare back was facing away from me, black cargo pants covered him from the waist down. He was also wearing a black SWAT hat facing backwards that was perilously close to making my mouth water.
Once I ascertained that he didn’t have any major trauma that I could see, I threw myself at him. He caught me with a small grunt, and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tight to his chest. I trembled in his arms, and it wasn’t until James’ deep gravelly voice said, “Don’t cry,” that I realized that I was doing just that.
And it was nasty crying at that.
My tears were running down the expanse of his bare chest, and when I leveraged myself up with my hands, placing them on his legs, he grunted in pain. Immediately I extracted myself from his arms carefully, and gasped when I saw that my hand was resting on a white gauze bandage.
“What happened?” I asked softly, gently removing my hand from the tender wound.
“Fucker shot me before I could get my shot off. Dammit.”
My brows puckered in confusion. “Why would you be shooting somebody anyway?”
He looked at me as if I was crazy. “Because I’m part of the SWAT team
, and they’re the ones that take down suspects that are picking off innocent people with .22’s?”
“Since when are you on the SWAT team?” I asked in confusion.
“Since when I accepted their offer. Didn’t Sam tell you?” He asked.
“No,” I said, heartbroken that my brother had kept that from me.
Even when he knew I wanted to speak to him. To see him again. I’d thought with the peace offering of chocolate cake would’ve broken the ice but I never heard from him. Why would my brother keep this from me when he knew I loved him?
I started to rethink letting my brother back into my life after he’d fucked up so royally in the past year. I’d spent every goddamn night with that lying sack of dog crap. I’d asked at least once a day if he’d heard from James, and each time his response had been, ‘nothing yet.’ I’d told the shithead that I was falling in love with James.
“That,” I said, shaking my head, not knowing what the hell to say. “I-I called him every day to see if he knew where you were. I thought maybe you were on vacation or something. I went over there every night, hoping that you’d be home, and you never were.”
James’ jaw tightened as he listened to me babble.
“Mr. Allen?” A man asked from behind me.
James looked up, and I turned in the circle of his arms and stared at the man with silver hair. Obviously a doctor, he had a warm smile and a smooth voice.
“Yeah?” James nodded.
“My name’s Dr. Stone. Are you ready to be stitched up?” Dr. Stone asked as he set his clipboard down and took a seat on the rolling stool.
It was during the fourth stitch in James’ thigh that Cheyenne and company showed up.
James didn’t acknowledge Sam’s presence at all, and neither did I. Cheyenne gave a raised eyebrow to James as she looked from our linked hands to our faces and back. I made a move to remove my hand from James’, but he held on tighter so I couldn’t get it away from him unless I wanted to make a big deal of it.
“That looks nasty.” Cheyenne said in way of greeting.
“Feels nasty too.” James agreed.
“It’ll leave a pretty wicked scar. Luckily, it only grazed him. Could’ve been a fuck of a lot worse.” The doctor muttered, and then apologized. “Sorry. I was a combat doctor in the army for twenty years. I don’t have control of my mouth at times.”
“That’s okay,” I laughed as the doctor did another stitch. “James would be swearing right along with you right now if it wasn’t for me.”
James squeezed my hand tight before slapping his sister’s hands off the side of his face. “Fuck, I said I was fine! Get off me!” He snapped.
His sister slinked away into Sam’s arms, which made me finally look at Sam’s face. He did not look pleased. My back straightened at the audacity of his anger that was not only palpable, but every bit of it was directed at me.
I gave him my best stink eye, and then turned back towards the doctor that was just finishing the final stitches in James leg.
“You know the routine, I’m sure. Ice. Keep it clean. Take the stitches out in a week. Antibiotics need to be taken twice a day for ten days. I’m assuming you don’t want pain meds?” Dr. Stone asked.
“No.” James confirmed.
“Alright, I’ll send Jennifer in with your discharge papers. Hope you feel better soon. It was a good thing you did.” Dr. Stone said as he left the curtained off area.
Silence commenced as we waited for Nurse Jennifer to come discharge James.
Sam’s face was hard and closed off, emotions wrapped tightly so I couldn’t read him at all. With a look of disapproval at me, he started speaking to James, completely ignoring me in the process.
He asked him about his job on the SWAT team, whether he was happy or not, what happened today when he got shot, how often they trained. The shop talk persisted through Jennifer handing over James’ discharge papers, and then continued on until we reached Sam’s bike.
Both men stopped and turned to study me. I felt the need to get the heck out of there, but I wasn’t leaving until I could talk to James. Make him see that we would be good together. To let him know that Jolie didn’t bother me anymore.
Well, not that much anyway.
Sam opened his mouth to say something. What, I didn’t know, because I interrupted him before he could get the first word out.
“Can I take you home?” I asked James, completely ignoring my brother.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he agreed. “Where’re you parked?”
“I parked at the back of the lot and ran in.” I gestured towards where my car was parked and started to walk forward.
Sam’s voice sounded from behind me. “Shiloh,” he started.
I turned like a whirlwind and was in his face in the next second. “You know, right now I’m very upset. I’m mad that I gave you so much of my trust only for you to break it. I’m mad that you knew I was aching to see him and you didn’t tell me what was going on. He could’ve died today, and where would that have left me? You want to know where? I’d be devastated. Over the past month, I’ve thought of little else than seeing him again. He makes me happy, and I deserve that.”
I was crying again, and the heartache on Sam’s face gave me a moment of doubt, but I pushed it viciously away. Starting to turn back to James, Cheyenne’s voice stopped me.
“That decision was all me. I didn’t think he needed to have the distraction in his life right now. He’s so caught up with trying to get custody of his daughter, having that piece of trash lying about anything and everything she can think of. I just didn’t want him to be used right now. I asked Sam to not tell you anything, and then I had him play the sister card with James. I never meant for it to hurt....” Cheyenne explained.
“That wasn’t your choice to make. Did I step in when you jumped in the sack that first night you met Sam? No. Did I say anything at all about how fast you moved? No. I didn’t interfere in your life choices, even though it went against everything that was ingrained in me to do so. Have the same courtesy for me.” James snapped, taking my hand and leading me away.
We didn’t speak while we walked to my truck. I handed James the keys like I’d done so many other times before. He opened the passenger door for me and helped me inside. Then he grabbed the seatbelt, leaned over my lap and snapped it into place. Slamming the door, he walked stiffly to the driver’s side, and hopped inside like the movement didn’t pain him, even though I knew it did.
We sat quietly in the parking lot for a few tense minutes. I could tell there was something that James wanted to say, but something was stopping him from doing it. After about four minutes of just sitting there, I broke.
“For the love of all that’s holy. Spit it out!” I boomed.
I hadn’t meant to yell quite so loud, but with the cab of the truck, it echoed off all the corners and made it much louder than I’d intended.
James’ head turned, and my breath started coming in pants when I saw the raw emotion and heat in his eyes. “Five fucking weeks. It’s been fucking torture. The only good thing about all of this was the job I got with the PD. I didn’t realize how much I missed being a useful person. That doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt every fucking second to ignore your calls. Your emails. Your texts. The only thing making it bearable was Janie. Then Janie would tell me how much she missed you, and I’d be thinking about you all over again.”
I pursed my lips because I was unsure of what he wanted me to say. I’d done those things, and he hadn’t called me back once. Although, if I’d known he was staying at his mother’s place, I would’ve just bombarded him there instead of stewing for five weeks.
With my non-response hanging in the thick air, he started my truck and drove it out of the hospital parking lot.
He didn’t acknowledge Sam’s wrist flick, and neither did I.
His mother’s place was in a very nice neighborhood that I hadn’t seen yet. Although I’ve pass
ed it many times. Its location was perfect. About three minutes from the local schools, five minutes from the police station, and two minutes from Free. The house was immaculate. I was willing to bet my entire life savings that James was the reason it looked so beautiful.
“The house is beautiful.” I said in awe.
“This is the historical district. All these houses were from the beginning of the Oil Boom we had in the 1930s. Solid in structure. The inside looks even better than the outside. My father bought it when it was a piece of junk, and fixed it up during his leave from the Army. When he died, it started to deteriorate. Old houses need constant upkeep. Shit breaks, and you have to replace it. Then something else breaks the next week. My mom wasn’t much of a handyman, and couldn’t afford much in the way of extra fees. When I started working, I used my money for the upkeep on the house. I learned a lot of shit just from having to fix everything myself.” James explained.
He sounded a tad nervous, and he was speaking much more than he usually did. Which I found quite cute. “Can I see the inside?”
“Of course.” He nodded and opened the door.
When I went to open my own, his voice froze me in my tracks. “Wait for me. I’ll get it.”
I waited. Because it wasn’t often when you found a man that would open the car door for you. James was that old-fashioned type of man that did it without thought. Never once had I managed to open my own door, and I loved it.
I probably resembled the biggest bitch on the planet when I watched him hobble around the truck to my door instead of just getting out myself. I could see the grimace of pain on his face no matter how much he tried to hide it. However, I knew that he wouldn’t appreciate the fact that I was trying to help him out.
I knew from experience that men didn’t like their defaults on display. Men like James and my brothers didn’t show pain, didn’t acknowledge it, and didn’t speak of it. If you knew what was good for you, you just didn’t bring up the obvious. Instead of ignoring the fact that he was probably in a lot more pain than he was letting on. I’d grown up with Sebastian. I knew better.
Texas Tornado (Freebirds Book 5) Page 13
