Flash Bang

by Meghan March

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I made excuses and didn’t spend more time with you. I’m sorry I didn’t come home more. I’m sorry it took this to make me realize I was terrible daughter.”

  He slid his arm around her and pulled her close. She breathed in the familiar spice of his bay rum aftershave; it was a scent she’d forever associate with him. “What’s this nonsense? A bad daughter? I don’t know why you’d think that, Ro. I’m so damn proud of you; there are days I think my chest might explode from preening like a peacock.”

  “But I was never home, and I ...”

  “You were chasing your dream. There’s no harm in that. No apologies necessary. You were living your life and going after your goals with the same single-minded focus that your mama applied to hunting me down and bagging me like a dog.”

  Ro couldn’t help but smile. “Is that how it went? She chased you?”

  “She sure did. Haven’t I ever told you that you get your drive and your guts from her? I was just a simple country boy, but your mama, before she was sick, was a sight to behold. There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish if she put her mind to it. Smartest woman I ever met.”

  Ro couldn’t help but wonder how her mother would have tackled the situation she faced. “What would she have done in my shoes?”

  “She would’ve found a way to have her cake and eat it too. And your mama liked her cake.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible. You won’t stay, and they won’t go. They’re mutually exclusive options.” Ro looked up at him. “Please explain to me again why you won’t stay. This place is perfect. They’ve got everything.”

  He pulled away and turned to face her. “Well, sweetheart, that’s the problem. It’s too perfect, and that means there’s a giant red bull’s-eye painted on this place. It’s obvious these boys are former military. Which means they still know people in the military. Which means people in the military know them, know where they live, and probably know what kind of preps they’ve made. It all comes down to how loyal those people are and how long that loyalty will last when things start to get real tough out there and they’ve got orders to carry out.”

  He had a point, and it was one Rowan couldn’t refute. And even if she could, once his mind was made up, there was little to no chance of changing it. Ro sighed, the impossible nature of the situation weighing her down until the welcome numbness returned.

  He picked up the shotgun from the picnic table. “You want me to go back and shoot ‘em? Or maybe just one? It’s not like you really need ‘em both, right?”

  Ro covered her face with both hands. “We are never talking about this again.”

  Now, if only she could train her mind not to think about them again. She forced a fake smile and went into the mess hall for breakfast.

  The last seven days had followed the same pattern: Graham woke up, worked for eighteen hours, pulling double or triple fire watch shifts or manning the command post, before falling back into bed. Alone. From what he’d gathered, Rowan and Erica had ganged up on Rick and persuaded him that his health required he stay more than the one day that Callahan would have preferred. No one had told Graham, and he’d refused to ask, exactly when the Callahans were planning to leave. Every day he dreaded getting the radio call announcing their truck was exiting the main gate. Every day the announcement didn’t come, he didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed. It was like drawing out the days on death row; at some point you had to give up hope of a pardon and welcome the needle that would end you.

  Zach was still avoiding him … and their cabin. Graham wasn’t sure where he’d been sleeping, but his mind conjured images of Zach and Rowan curled up together in one of the vacant guest cabins. He crushed those thoughts. Sitting at the desk in the command post, chuckling half-heartedly at the good-natured barbs being thrown back and forth on the radio, he tried not to think about spending another night alone. About spending the rest of his nights alone.

  The door banged open, and Zach stalked into the room. He paced the small space before slamming both hands on the desk. His gaze burned into Graham. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

  The words were as devastating as Graham had predicted. There’d be no pardon for him. Not that he expected or deserved one. He stayed silent.

  “Are you really going to let her walk out of here? Without even trying to change Callahan’s mind?”

  “I assume you’ve probably wasted enough breath on that for both of us.”

  Zach’s glare was vicious as he yanked one of the chairs from beneath the low counter and threw himself into it. He scrubbed his hands across his face, chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “How is she?” Graham asked, his tone casual, but the question had been plaguing him all week.

  Zach thumped his palm down on the counter, making the radio equipment jump. “You have the balls to ask me that? After you’ve been like a fucking hermit? You don’t deserve to know. This is your fault.”

  Graham exhaled slowly and swallowed. “It was the only choice—”

  “I’m going with them,” Zach said.

  Zach waited for the explosion that he expected to follow his announcement. But Graham only stiffened, his mouth dropping open. His stunned gaze met Zach’s. Graham looked like he might speak, but he closed his mouth without saying a word. Yeah, Zach thought, Graham hadn’t seen that one coming. But Zach hadn’t been able to come up with another alternative that he could live with. He finally understood why Graham had preempted Rowan’s decision. He’d wanted to spare her the agonizing pain of choosing between her family and them—again. What Graham hadn’t realized was that, given the circumstances, none of them could escape that pain. Rowan sure hadn’t. She looked pale and drawn, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her sassy walk had lost its bounce.

  Zach didn’t break Graham’s stare, and he wasn’t changing his mind. The Callahans might not be aware of his decision yet, but he’d follow them like a pathetic, lost pup if they tried to leave without him. Zach knew he owed Graham an explanation, but how did you explain to your best friend, your brother, that you’d weighed the options and, like his mother, you hadn’t chosen him. Zach’s stomach twisted like a washrag wrung dry. He went with the truth.

  “You’ve been my best friend since I was seventeen years old. I’d never have survived all the shit we’ve been through over the last fifteen years without you either watching my back or leading the charge.” Zach looked up at the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut. “But I’m in love with her, and I’m not going to let her walk out of my life. Not willingly. I might’ve thought this ranch was my home and my life, but I was wrong, man. It’s her. She’s everything. I love you like a brother, but she’s my future, even if you’ve decided she isn’t yours.”

  “Get out,” Graham said, his tone low and menacing.

  “Graham—”

  Graham shoved the chair back and took a fighting stance, the vein in his forehead visibly bulging. “Get the fuck out,” he snarled. “Get the fuck off my ranch.”

  Zach unfolded himself from the chair and stared at Graham, who was clenching his fists reflexively, and looked to be barely restraining himself from taking his head off. “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

  Zach turned and walked away from his best friend, closing the door on his past. Now, he just had to tell his future about his decision. And hope that her response was worth the friendship he’d just destroyed.

  Graham embraced the rage and let it build until it drowned out the pain and betrayal that had swamped him at Zach’s announcement. This was her fault. She was the reason that the one living person he thought he’d always be able to count on—the one person who’d always had his back—was walking away. Graham had once again been judged and found wanting. He had to vent his pain on someone, and it might as well be the source. He couldn’t help but think, if she’d never stumbled into his crosshairs, then he wouldn’t be losing his best friend and feel like he’d been through an emotional meat grinder over the
last couple weeks. Graham knew his thoughts weren’t rational, or hell, even sane, but he had to grasp onto something or he felt like he might break. And breaking wasn’t an option.

  He threw open the door that Zach had shut with such finality and stormed across the inner compound, desperate to find Rowan and unleash his temper. His search didn’t take long; he found her in the mess hall, sitting at the dining table with Grace and Lia, watching the little girl color. He needed them gone. Because he sure as hell didn’t want an audience for this. He’d probably end up on his knees begging her to stay. No one needed to see that.

  “Everyone out,” he said. “I need to talk to Rowan. Alone.”

  “Graham?” Allison called from the kitchen. “Is something wrong?”

  “Just need a minute,” he replied, his tone sharp and unyielding.

  Allison bustled through the door from the kitchen; she tilted her head, studying his combative posture. She said nothing as she tugged Grace by the hand and backtracked into the kitchen.

  “We’ll go check on the garden and pick some veggies for dinner,” she said. Lia trailed after them. She paused at the doorway, looking at Graham for a long moment and then back at Rowan. Graham saw Ro give her a nod, and only then did the woman cross into the kitchen.

  “You’ve been avoiding me for a week, and now you can’t wait sixty seconds to clear the room?” Ro thrust away from the table and stood, wobbling slightly. “You’ve got to scare a five year old girl and a woman who is trying to claw her way back from being terrified of men? Smooth, Conan. Real smooth.”

  Graham paced, gripping the back of his neck with both hands. “How did you convince him? That’s all I want to know. How in the fuck did you convince a man you’ve known for a goddamn second to desert everything that matters to him? To turn his back on his home and the men who’ve fought beside him—bled for him? That’s all I want to know. Then I’ll let you go on your merry way to live happily fucking ever after together.”

  “What are you talking about?” Graham dismissed Ro’s confused tone.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You’re better than that. You’re so fucking good that you forced my best friend to choose, and let me tell you, he didn’t fucking choose me.”

  “You’re speaking English, but I don’t have a clue what you’re saying.”

  “Don’t you fucking lie to me, woman!” Graham roared, and he thought he heard a whimper.

  Rowan backed up toward the wall, and Graham scarcely noticed her unsteadiness and rapid, shallow breaths.

  He crossed the room and got in her face, gripping her by the upper arms and pressing her against the wall. She flinched, and he barely restrained himself from shaking her. “Tell me what you said to him,” he demanded. “And why the hell didn’t you say it to me? Am I just not good enough for you either?” His voice broke on the last words.

  The metallic sound of a round being chambered accompanied the quiet voice that said, “Let go of her and step away, or I swear to God this bullet will end you.”

  Graham jerked his gaze over his shoulder to see Lia leveling a shaking M1911 at him. “Do it now,” she said.

  Graham released Rowan’s shoulders and stepped away, lifting his hands in the universal gesture for “Don’t shoot.” With the shape they’d found her in, and her habit of pulling weapons on him, Graham figured Lia had to be at least a little, if not a lot, unstable. With the torment he was feeling at that moment, he didn’t particularly care if she decided to pull the trigger, but there was no way he’d trust her not to shoot Rowan by accident. Even if Graham wanted to shake the living crap out of her, he’d never willingly expose Ro to danger. He might be able to live knowing that she and Zach were happy and making a life together without him, but he didn’t think he could live in a world where she didn’t exist.

  Beside him, Rowan trembled and slumped against the wall. Her knees gave way, and she dropped, landing in a heap on the floor. Lia’s eyes went wide, and her finger moved to the trigger.

  Torn between grabbing Rowan and neutralizing the threat, he hesitated. His training took over, and he surged toward Lia, intent on knocking the barrel of the gun away from its aim at Rowan and twisting her wrist to force her to drop it. But his split second of indecision meant that Lia was pulling the trigger just as he rushed her. The explosion of the shot at close range was deafening. Graham felt a sickening punch to his left oblique.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  He dragged Lia down and dropped to his knees, the gun thudding to the floor beside them. A scream pierced through the low buzz in his ears as Graham shoved the gun behind away, and Lia scuttled backward toward the kitchen. He touched his burning lower left side, and his hand came away red. He covered the wound with both hands, trying to staunch the steady flow of blood. He stumbled to his feet, heading for Rowan and praying to God she hadn’t been hit.

  Ro’s brain had been moving at turtle speed all day. She attributed it to the pounding in her temples that made it nearly impossible to concentrate, even on something as simple as coloring with Grace. And then Graham launched into a tirade that was beyond Ro’s current capacity for comprehension. When he’d pushed her against the wall, he hadn’t gripped her arms tightly, despite the anger that had been emanating from him. She'd started to feel woozy, her knees had gone weak, and she hadn't been able to stop her ungraceful slide down the wall. Lia had looked like a virago, bent on protecting her, even though Ro didn’t need protection from Graham. Even in his pissed off state, Ro had no fear that he’d hurt her. And then it had all unraveled, each motion seemingly exaggerated as Ro took them in: Graham’s lunge, the flash of fear in Lia’s eyes, Graham’s swipe to the barrel of the gun, the muscles in Lia’s hand flexing, and then the discharge of the pistol. Ro screamed when Graham fell to his knees.

  “Graham!”

  “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God,” Lia chanted, awkwardly crawling backward away from Graham and the gun.

  Ro snapped out of her haze long enough to croak, “Get Beau. Go.”

  Lia disappeared into the kitchen, and Ro heard the back door slam shut behind her. Graham was coming toward her. The red trail in his wake reminded her of watching her dad almost bleed out days before.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her.

  “Me? Are you serious?” Ro pressed her hand over his, trying to help stop the bleeding. Graham flinched. “I’m sorry.” She started to pull her hand away, but Graham shifted, covering her hand with his big, bloody one.

  “It’s okay. As long as you’re okay. We’re good.” Ro nodded, but his next words were drowned out as the front door to the mess hall crashed open, and Zach and Beau flew into the room. Beau ripped his kit open, and carefully removed Ro and Graham’s layered hands from the wound. He shredded Graham’s shirt and tossed it aside. A deep, bleeding furrow, edged with torn flesh, was exposed.

  “Oh my God,” Ro breathed, falling back against the wall. Her vision swam, and her eyelids fluttered.

  “Ro—. Fuck. Someone grab her …”

  The rest of the words were lost as the blackness descended.

  Ro woke disoriented. Her head throbbed, and her entire body ached. She surveyed her surroundings in the dim glow of the light and deduced she was flat on her back on a cot in the clinic. A noise to her right had her cautiously turning her head toward the sound. Zach was passed out on the cot next to her. What the hell is going on? Why am I so damn tired? Moving her head took so much energy. Ro groaned, and Zach jolted up, as if he’d been sleeping with one eye open. He rolled out of his cot and was at her side.

  “Hey, baby. You joining the land of the living again?”

  Ro started to respond, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Water?”

  “Just a second.” Zach stood and crossed to the sink, filling a small paper cup and returning to her side. Ro reached for the cup and realized she had an IV attached to the top of her hand.

  “What happened?”

  Zach sat on the edge of her cot and helped he
r sit up. She accepted the cup and sipped, as Zach pointed to her bandaged wrists. “Infection—from one of your wrists. It was bad, babe. Beau’s pretty sure it was antibiotic resistant. He had to get creative. We weren’t sure his treatment would work. You’re lucky.”

  “I don’t understand ...” When she’d asked what happened, she’d meant what had happened to Graham.

  “I’m not going to pretend to have the answers to that. You’d have to ask Beau. I’m just fucking happy you’re finally awake. You scared ten years off my life.”

  “But—” He pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Important things first: how do you feel?”

  “Tired. Achy. Like I got hit by a bus.”

  “I should get Beau.” He started to rise.

  “No, wait.” She was almost afraid to ask. “Is Graham okay?”

  Zach gave her a small smile. “Yeah, babe. He’s going to be okay.”

  “Going to be?” Ro frowned. That didn’t sound good at all.

  “He’s moving a little slow, but he’s damn lucky that bullet just grazed him. Another inch, and he’d have been missing a chunk of his side.”

  Ro shivered at the thought, and then wondered why he wasn’t in the clinic with her. Probably would’ve needed to sedate him to get him within ten feet of me. She mentally cringed when she remembered the barely-leashed rage in his grip when he’d pushed her up against the wall. She was still confused about what had set him off. All she knew for sure was that it had something to do with the man sitting next to her.

  “What happened? He avoided me for days, and then he was furious and spoiling for a fight. I just … don’t get it.”

  “That’s my fault. Not yours.”

  Maybe her head was still too fuzzy to follow logical reasoning, but Ro wasn’t getting it. “I’m missing something here.”