Stryker (Books 1 & 2) (Atrox Security)

by J. C. Cliff

  “It was hell, man,” he says clenching his jaw, “and waiting for a rescue team damn near killed me. Don’t do that shit again,” he warns in a low, dark tone, but the corners of his lips twitch, betraying his emotion.

  My lips turn up in a grin. “Aww, you do love me,” I tease.

  He rolls in eyes. “In your dreams,” he replies hiding his smile. “I’ve got the boy packed up.” I give a stiff nod, wondering how all this is going to play out when we get back home, and how James will adjust. One thing’s for sure, my son will never see this place again, not as long as I’m alive.

  Hunter holds up two fingers and wiggles them in the filtering light, indicating our convoy is rolling out in two minutes. I acknowledge him with the jerk of my head as he turns toward the SUV with James’s suitcase in hand.

  With his hand signal, all of us head for the vehicles. Quinn whistles, getting my attention. He stands at the passenger side door of the SUV and motions for Caleb to ride with us. We both head for the open door of the back seat, the one Valerie had opened for me, and as soon as the door shuts behind Caleb, the long line of SUVs and vans take off.

  The car is eerily quiet on the inside, the tension thick, because everyone here knows we’re not quite out of the woods yet. But one thing is certain, I’m taking my son home with me.

  CHAPTER 50

  ~ Valerie ~

  I have no idea how James is going to digest all these changes, and I’m worried. My stomach is in constant knots, and I can’t seem to eat or sleep very well because of it. There are moments when I feel as if he’s the same boy from a year ago, and at other times he behaves differently from how I would’ve expected. It’s like he’s had an entire year to evolve into his own, and I of course, missed those incremental changes.

  The first night home, back in Raleigh, every single one of us collapsed in a sleep-induced coma the second our heads hit the pillows. It amazed me how all that high level of stress left me so fatigued. I was so bone-crushing tired, I didn’t care if I slept in a cardboard box underneath a bridge. All of us slept in today, but by noon everyone was to meet up at Quinn’s house. All I wanted to do was laze around all day in one of Stryker’s oversized T-shirts and watch mindless movies with James, but Stryker was adamant we tag along.

  When I pushed him about not going, he simply said either he could drag me out in my underwear, or I could get dressed, the choice was mine. I didn’t realize he was going to be such a caveman, especially since we’re back in the states and out of harm’s way. He simply was not willing to let me or James out of his sight, not even for a minute.

  I’ve been through a whirlwind of shit and all I wanted to do was take a sabbatical from the real world and hibernate. I guess Stryker has every right to be concerned over my mental health, he loves me, and he knows I’m still trying to get over the shock of it all. If the roles were reversed, I’d be the same way, so I understand where he’s coming from, wanting to keep us close to ensure we’re okay.

  I begrudgingly got dressed even though I wasn’t in the mood to go, nor in the mood to talk to anyone and socialize. Looking back, I have to say it wasn’t all that bad. I met Quinn and Travis’s wives, Jules and Lexi. They really took the extra effort to make me feel welcomed.

  It was obvious both the women had been worried sick over everyone’s safety, especially when they expressed what they were feeling when Quinn and Travis had torn out of Raleigh, giving them a second’s notice in order to rescue Stryker and Hunter. Hearing what they went through, as well as the men, really made me feel bad. I know it’s a ridiculous thought, but still, I felt responsible in some way for putting everyone in danger.

  Caleb, James, and I are staying in Stryker’s three-bedroom apartment, because he refuses to stay in Graham’s house. He basically forbids any of us from returning there. He’s been so possessive, I almost feel smothered, but after everything we’ve been through, I can’t really blame him for how he’s acting.

  A large part of me was actually relieved that he was so insistent about James and I staying with him. I really didn’t want to go back to a big, empty house that would haunt me with bad memories at every turn.

  I’m snuggled under the covers of Stryker’s bed, trying to fall asleep, but can’t. Stryker’s been quiet for a little while, and I think maybe he’s fallen asleep. The pillow gets in my way so I quietly smash it down as I roll my head to the side to see if he’s sleeping. The moonlight seeps in from his bedroom window, casting shadows on his handsome face. His eyes are wide open, gleaming against the light as he stares back at me.

  “Have you been watching me this whole time?” I whisper half-startled.

  “Mmn.” Is all he says. Having him back in my life feels so surreal, and he’s given nothing but his total dedication to me. Even though he denies it, I’m sure he’s struggling with forgiving me over having kept James a secret from him.

  For reasons I don’t yet fully understand, Caleb has become part of the men’s team overnight. I don’t know what has been said or done in order for the guys to trust him, but I know without a doubt if Stryker trusts him, then I do too. But when I found out Caleb was staying with us, I forced Stryker’s hand to explain why. All Stryker could tell me was that he’s on our side, and me knowing that information alone was more than I should’ve been privy to.

  With Graham still alive, I know he’s only trying to protect me, the less information I know the better. I get that, but my curiosity sometimes drives me batty and I wind up pressing the men for more information. I always get shut down, except for this last go-around. Maybe Caleb felt bad for me over my lost friendship with Celia so he told me enough to assuage me.

  Caleb had told me he was Celia’s secret lover for years, but it was all a ruse. It was part of his strategy to get closer to Graham, and just like Hunter, he hated every minute of her presence. I’ve asked myself a hundred times a day as to how I could’ve not seen through her schemes and self-seeking persona. Caleb assured me that it wasn’t me. She was good at hiding her true self from others with the skill of an Academy Award winner. I’ve been too unassuming and trusting of people, I never saw her betrayal coming. Caleb told me many times over there was too much at stake for her to slip up. She was trained by Graham after all.

  I don’t know how Stryker could just turn the other cheek after everything, because Caleb really hurt him. But at the same time, Caleb saved his life too. Caleb is sleeping out on Stryker’s fold out sofa, and it’s almost comical to see this larger than life man trying to find a comfortable position on such a thin mattress, but Caleb refuses to complain.

  On the other hand, James has really taken to Ranger, Stryker’s dog. In fact, he’s sleeping with Ranger right now. It’s as if Ranger senses something is off, and he’s made it his mission to follow James around, staying on his heels everywhere he goes. Of course, James is eating up the attention, and that makes me happy.

  “Why aren’t you sleeping?” Stryker’s deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the night almost startling me. “It must be past midnight. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day and you need the rest.”

  “I know,” I sigh in defeat. “I can’t seem to turn my brain off.”

  “Kids are more resilient than you think,” Stryker says, as if he knows exactly what’s bothering me.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking about?”

  He grins at me and I can see his sparkling white teeth almost glowing in the dark, “I know a lot of shit. It’s why they call me Obi-Wan.” I roll my eyes at him, and he chuckles.

  “I’m serious, Stryker. I’m not playing around.” I playfully swat at his chest.

  “Look, it is what it is. All we can ever do is roll with the changes,” he says soothingly. “The one thing that boy has going for him is a ton of love and a lot of support. He’s more adaptable than you’re giving him credit for.”

  “I guess he gets all that adaptability from you,” I tell him, beginning to grow distraught. “I just don’t know what to tell him and when I …�
� Stryker shushes me by placing two fingers over my lips.

  “Stop trying to fix everything in one day.”

  With his fingers pressed into my lips, all I can do is nod at him, but that doesn’t stop my mind from racing. James knows that Graham is in the hospital and his lungs need to be fixed in order to help him live. He’s asked when his dad will be coming home, and I don’t know what to tell him. My heart breaks for him.

  He’s asked why we’re not staying at the home he remembers, and I always get tongue tied. If it weren’t for Stryker and Caleb stepping in to occupy his mind, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m not ready to answer such heavy questions.

  Sometimes James acts as if he’s on an adventure, going with the flow, and at other times he grows quiet and introspective which concerns me. I know he’s a brilliant little boy, and I’d love to know how much he’s truly grasping.

  “What are we doing?” I ask Stryker, my question meaning so many different things.

  “We’re trying to sleep.”

  “No, I mean… what are we doing?”

  His tongue snakes out over lower lip in thought, and my stomach dips. Will he never stop affecting me?

  “We’re moving onto the next phase of our relationship,” he simply states, “and that means no more lies, and no more secrets.” His gaze is penetrating; I can feel the passion in his voice wrapping around me like a thick blanket.

  “I don’t understand. What do you think the next phase is?”

  “You’re gonna marry me, darlin’,” he says wearing a light grin. I hold back a laugh, but it comes out as a muffled chortle. His brow arches. “You findin’ that funny, sweetheart?”

  “No. Definitely not funny, but don’t you think you might want to at least ask me instead of demanding?”

  “Do you not want to?” he asks, deep creases marring his forehead.

  “Well, yeah, but…”

  He shushes me with a searing kiss to my lips then whispers over them, “So then it’s decided, you’re gonna marry me.”

  “You’re not going to ask me?” my voice incredulous.

  “Don’t need to.”

  I want to laugh at him, but he’s not joking, he’s dead serious.

  “What about James?”

  “What about James? He’s my son,” he states in a half-offended tone as if I’d even think about pulling the rug out from under him now that James is in his life.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about, Stryker,” I counter calmly to de-ruffle his feathers. “I’m worried as to how he’s going to digest everything and all the changes happening in his life at mock speed. I’m sick to my stomach thinking if this new way of living for him is going to affect him negatively down the road.”

  Stryker’s breathing calms and his body relaxes, his weight sinking back down into the mattress. “I get what you’re saying, Val. It’s going to be a new paradigm shift for him that’s for sure, but it’s nothing that a whole lot of love, support, and time can’t handle,” he assures. “I’m not going to fail him.” He pauses to look deep into my eyes, and adds, “We’re not going to fail him. I can promise you that much.”

  “What about…”

  “Shush it, Val. We’re gonna take this one day at a time. And as far as Graham goes, we’re going to have to choose our words wisely around James. We’ll collaborate as to how much, and just what we should tell him.” It’s such a hateful thought, but I hope both Graham and Celia rot in that hospital they were taken to.

  “What’s going to happen to them?”

  “Way I see it, Graham has everyone, from the ATF, CIA, FBI, and Homeland Security raining down on his ass for selling thousands of illegal weapons. He’d been running them from both sides of the border, and I’m guessing his main buyers were the Mexican Cartels. Sounds a bit like the Fast and Furious if you ask me.”

  “Gosh, all those organizations. They all want a piece of him, don’t they?”

  “Yep. They sure do.”

  I grab ahold of Stryker and hold him tight. He returns my embrace, pulling me up against his muscled frame. I snuggle my nose into the crook of his neck and breathe him in. I get goose bumps just thinking about his unconditional love and support. It’s as if the second we left that compound, his mind was made up to let bygones be bygones. He hasn’t brought up the past once, and when I tried, he shut me down. He said I didn’t need to explain a damn thing to him, but if for some reason I ever felt the need to talk about the past, not for him, but for me, he’d listen.

  “Thank you, Stryker. Thank you for loving me and James. You’ve taken him right in. I’m so sorry I ever doubted your love in the first place.”

  “Ssh…” he soothes. “This is what family does, darlin’. We stick together like glue through the good and the bad, so when we’re on the upswing in life it just tastes that much sweeter.”

  CHAPTER 51

  ~ Stryker ~

  My mother, not knowing when I was going to get back home, went ahead and had my sister cremated while I was in Central America. I’m okay with that, especially since I didn’t think I was going to get out of there alive. Besides, sometimes, I think it’s better to remember loved ones when they were last alive rather than everyone standing around and looking at a dead body. Truth be known, I’ve never been a fan of viewings.

  Sitting in the very front pew with my mother, Valerie, and James, I look around in amazement at all the people who’ve shown for today’s memorial service. I know my sister was loved, but to actually see this little church crowding up with people who want to pay their respects, really brings it home. I look behind me, giving my best friends a nod of appreciation for them coming here today. Even Caleb came, and is sitting with the guys.

  Music in the background starts, and in that moment, Valerie squeezes my hand, getting my attention. When I turn back to look at her, she nods to the front of the church. I follow her line of sight to a huge movie screen that’s situated off to the side, and I’m immediately taken back, sucking in sharp breath of air.

  I’m in a bit of a shock, actually, because I wasn’t expecting a slideshow of family photos to be displayed on the big screen in front of God and everyone to be seen. My life has been so upside down lately, I guess I hadn’t paid much attention as to what was planned out for the memorial service.

  Picture after picture emerges of happier times with my sister, each image being replaced with another, and then another, and it doesn’t stop. New photos, including ones I’d never seen before keep materializing. It just keeps fucking going, and I begin to think it’ll finish its loop. I slip my index finger into the collar of my dress shirt, trying to loosen it, because suddenly anything touching my throat makes me feel as if it’s choking me.

  It’s torture–and when the memories are combined with the music playing in the background, it not only becomes a bad combination–it becomes murderous in trying to cope.

  It’s hard as fuck to sit here and see these memories fade in and out, one after the other, before my very eyes, especially knowing I won’t ever see her again.

  My throat keeps closing in on me, and it’s all I can do to not rip my tie off from around my neck. I find myself struggling to breathe as I try to get control of my emotions. I’ve never done drugs before, but I think I’m beginning to understand where some pot could be real useful right about now, and I’m not above taking a hit if I had some.

  Even though I’m not showing it on the outside, I’m a fucking wreck on the inside. Getting choked up is a rare thing for me to do, and I don’t cry in public, I refuse to. I start breaking out into a sweat, and suddenly I need some fresh air. I can’t keep sitting here, allowing my emotions to steadily take over, or else I will break down.

  Not being able to take it any longer, I glance down at my watch, taking note that the service won’t start for another fifteen minutes, and I think it’s going to be the longest fifteen minutes of my life. The turmoil twisting at my insides is nothing compared to the physical beating Caleb had given me.

>   I glance at my mother and wish I hadn’t. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to see my mother since we’ve been back in the states. She’s giving me a knowing stare which means we’re going to have a lot to talk about afterward. I’m sure she has picked up on mine and James’s similarities the second she saw him, but with my childhood photographs flashing up on the big screen, there is no denying that James is mine, none whatsoever. It’s beyond obvious, and I have no doubt the entire congregation has already figured it out.

  It’s all become too much to bear, and I need to break away. With a quick squeeze of Valerie’s hand, I lean over and whisper in her ear, “I need to step out for a second, stay here.” Knowing it’s an order and not a request, she gives me an understanding nod, and lets me go. Since we’re sitting in the front row, and knowing I don’t want to be stopped a hundred times by people wanting to give me their condolences, I don’t have it in me to interact and place a false smile on my lips. Instead of using the main entrance, I slip out the side door just beyond the pulpit, being able to escape the entire congregation.

  The second I open the door, I’m accosted by cool, crisp air. I inhale it deep into my lungs, hoping the change of scenery will allow me to get my emotions back in check. I’d have a cigarette right now if I could, but I didn’t bring any with me. I hadn’t planned on buying any more either. I dig in my suit pocket and pull out a stick of gum, unwrap the foil then fold the gum over my tongue. As stupid as it sounds, the minty flavor diverts my attention from what I just left inside the church. It’s a small distraction, but I’ll take any distraction I can get at this point.

  I walk along the side of the church. Midway down is an old wooden bench that’s seen better days, but it’s calling my name. Loosening my tie, I wriggle it side to side to ease the chokehold it has on me as I take the last few strides to sit down on the dilapidated bench. I sit down on the edge of the seat and lean forward, resting my elbows against my thighs as I fold my hands together, all the while blankly staring at the brown, winter grass, trying to get a handle on myself.