Mr. Gray (Full Throttle Series)

by Hazel Parker

  The smoke twisted in the air, curling like limp hair around the unseen musical notes from the tired juke box. I had no idea where I was and I didn’t care.

  I just watched my brother make love to someone. Granted, I’ve never seen him in bed before, but I know he’s never looked at a woman like that before. Not like that.

  Along the wall were every hue of amber liquid imaginable in their inverted bottles, and the staff served well, judging by the cups in front of me. I raised a shaky finger to call the server over. She didn’t move, but I know she saw me.

  “How about I call you a taxi?” she asked.

  It must be near closing. So? The rules don’t apply to me.

  “’ow ‘bout 'nother 'iskey?”

  The woman turned her head and sighed heavily. The professional smile she wore all night was long gone, and her eye lids were pink and sagging with fatigue.

  “We’re closed,” she said roughly as she wiped down the counter.

  “I’m still drinking!”

  “Hey!” a guy yelled from a table in the back. “She said we’re closed.”

  “Are you her bodyguard?” I slurred, wobbling on the high stool. My leg buckled when I stood, but I didn’t fall.

  The guy sighed and grabbed me by the collar of my jacket. I’m not a small guy, but this guy had at least a hundred pounds on me.

  “Get out,” he growled, throwing me out the door onto my face.

  Nobody kicks me out. I leave when I want.

  “Go home. Sleep it off, and don’t come back here again,” he said to my slumped body.

  “I go where I want.” I was definitely slurring. Slurring didn’t sound as threatening.

  “Not here you don’t. You’re banned. You show up here again and it won’t be pretty,” he said as I got to my feet.

  Was that a threat?

  I didn’t get a chance to ask him. He slammed the bar door and I heard the distinct click of it locking in place.

  “FUCK!”

  There was one lone bike standing in the front. I should have considered the beautiful paint job, but I didn’t. I kicked it over in a rage.

  “Fucking assholes. Last time I ever come here!” I yelled, walking back to where I think I left my bike.

  I don’t really remember the rest. I somehow made it back to my couch, though.

  Evan

  Why is it always me? Must I always be the nice twin? The do-gooder twin? I always have to save my brother like I’m some goddamn superhero. Do I look like fucking Clark Kent?

  I had no idea where my brother had gone, but I imagined it’d be somewhere with booze. So that’s where I went. It was easy to know when to stop driving. His bike was propped on its kickstand in the light of day. The paint job was beautiful and unique. Black on black with crosses and the word bandits on the front. His helmet, when worn, looked like it had a bandana covering the mouth, and the eyewear was blacked out.

  I’d slept for a few hours at Kaylen’s, but I couldn’t get too comfortable knowing that my brother had left. I mean, he’s a grown man and he’ll do what he wants, but I still hadn’t heard back from him.

  I pulled away from Kaylen slowly. We were intricately wrapped around each other. I didn’t know whether she was a light sleeper, but I didn’t want her to wake up because of me. She deserved to sleep. Inch by inch, I pulled away until I was able to slide to the edge of the bed. She reached forward and when her hands reached my pillow she snatched it to her body and smiled. She was so beautiful; her naked curves and wild hair, without any pretenses or attempts to be beautiful, she just was.

  If it wasn’t for my brother, I wouldn’t be going anywhere. I would’ve spent as long as I could holding her. But not getting a call or at least a text was worrying. The thought that something could have happened to him stopped me from lying in the bed a second longer. It’s what had me up at 7 AM knocking on doors, trying to find the idiot with my face.

  “Excuse me,” I said, pushing on the door.

  “We’re closed,” a gruff voiced yelled.

  “I get that, but I have a question.”

  The door swung open and I was face to face with a man with shiny, dark hair. If I had to guess, I’d say he was of Latino heritage. “What did I just say? We’re—”

  The man eyes narrowed and a flare of recognition flashed in his eyes before he grabbed me by the shirt.

  “You!”

  “What?” I said trying to yank his hands away as he shoved me inside.

  “I got him, boss!” he yelled to the back.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Get your hands off me.”

  TA man walked forward, his shoes made rhythmic taps against the hardwood, solid and regular, like a solider. His face was stern yet peaceful as he pulled a chair from the table beside him and turned to sit. The man had the swagger of someone I wouldn’t even want to lock eyes with, let alone cross. His arms were more ink than skin, his blonde hair so closely cropped that from a distance I had mistaken him for being bald.

  Beneath his pierced brows his eyes were as direct as I had expected them to be, not even blinking as much as the average person. “So, you’re the idiot who scratched my bike?” His voice gave nothing away. No anger, no maliciousness. If anything, he sounded just a little amused.

  “Look, man. I don’t know what you think this is but this is just a misunderstanding.”

  “Let me guess, I’ve got the wrong guy?” His chuckle was low and sinister as he watched my face. “So that’s what we’re going to do, is it?” He shook his head. “I’ve heard so much about you bandits; this is such a letdown. You’re a bunch of cowards.”

  My fists clenched and I tried to keep myself calm. “I don’t know what you think you know or what the hell you’re talking about, but you better watch yourself.”

  Do you know who I am?” he spoke calmly still. His eyes showed no fear and as men came in from the back, standing behind him, I studied his face trying to find anything that might trigger something I might know.

  “No.”

  “Casper Karin.” He pronounced the syllables in his name slowly and smiled as he continued, “The President of The Skulls. And you… you trashed the wrong bike.”

  Well shit.

  I knew what this was and how it was going to end. I only had one option. I wasn’t going to keep arguing it wasn’t me, and I damn sure wasn’t going to sell out my brother.

  Five men encircled me, some taller and some heavier than me. Casper moved slowly, not at all concerned with the men surrounding me and menacingly cracking their knuckles. He put the chair back under the table and looked over his shoulder as he walked through the back door. “Don’t leave any blood on the floor.”

  That was the breaking point of my patience. Even then I could tell you I was going down. There was no way I could win against five men, but I was blinded by a five-course serving of rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. I would make sure they left this hurting as much as I was going to.

  I punched the first guy in the face. When my fist came to contact, he fell to the ground wailing in pain, as I tried to shake the aching aftertaste upon the taste buds of my hand. Much like coffee, its bitterness drew me in to take another sip, knowing the exhilaration that would follow. I tackled him and held him down so he couldn’t fight back as his friends jumped on top of me.

  Someone punched me in the stomach at the same time my fist connected with his nose in a satisfying crunch. Another man grabbed my left arm, and I whirled around to land a punch solidly on his jaw, right below his eye. He fell back but didn’t go down. Two of the other three held my arms while another punk hit me in the stomach twice. I kicked him solidly in the midsection, which knocked the breath out of him. He bent over, but didn't fall. When I kicked the guy in the gut, I pushed the others back and we all went down. I hit the floor, staggering to get up. On all fours, I saw the foot coming. It landed on my chin and flew back, landing hard on my head. Dizzily, I stood and held my hands back up. I am a damn good B
andito. We go down fighting. For every breath in my body, they were going to have to beat me unconscious. The other man ran to tackle me and that was the last thing I remembered.

  Kaylen

  I woke up to an empty bed, but I could smell both of them on my skin.

  Evan. Ethan. Together. With me.

  I sat up and shocked myself with the soreness of my body. I smiled softly as I walked to the shower and prepared myself for work. I had days to spare, and could have called in sick, but I didn’t want to. There was a lot I needed to think about, and somehow doing something with my hands helped.

  I wondered when Evan was because I hadn’t heard him leave. Then I remembered Ethan walking out sometime during our sex session. Evan probably went to find him. I turned my phone over and saw his message.

  Last night was everything. I want to do it again. Soon. Just me and you. Will call after I find my brother.

  I smiled. Truthfully, I wanted to do it again too. Without his brother. I may have started out wanting both of them, but the truth was, only Evan made my heart sing. Ethan could set my skin on fire, but that was a given. After all, he looked the exact same as Evan. They were both hot as hell. But underneath, they were completely different men. I’d been divorced for two years. In that time, nothing had happened that made me want to risk falling for someone again, but there was something about Evan. From the moment I saw him, he made me want to do the opposite of what my brain said to do. My feet wanted to run, but something told me to stay, and here we were, not even two weeks later. It sounded absolutely crazy. This wasn’t a movie. This was real life, and yet, I could feel myself falling again.

  I stripped down and stepped slowly into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. I snatched back the shower curtain as I turned the water on hot and let it beat onto my head in steamy rivulets. Closing my eyes to the water, as the heat soaked into my skin, I could easily image Evan there with me. How the water would make its way down his sculpted body. Maybe next time we’ll shower together afterward. My hands traced the places he kissed and I smiled at the soreness of my body. Evan touched me here. I almost dreaded washing because I could still smell him on my skin.

  The sensation of the steamy water calmed me and cleared my mind. Evan was at the forefront, but I wondered about Ethan as well. I didn’t expect him to walk out. If anything, I would have expected him to have been the one leading the show. I wondered why he left, what was going on in his mind, and if he was okay. If anyone could find him, it was Evan. They probably had some kind of Spidey-sense with each other.

  I wanted to be with Evan, this much I was sure of. I wondered how that would affect my relationship with Ethan. Would he be mad? Hurt? I couldn’t imagine he would be. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man to catch feelings like that. He seemed so in control of everything. Maybe that’s why he left; because as much as he thought he was in control, Evan had ruled me. He’d rocked my world, and there was no one else I wanted to touch me.

  I washed my hair, detangling it as the suds dissipated under my fingers. Washing my hair never felt this luxurious before. I knew it was just because I was in such a good mood. I combed through the silky strands and rinsed thoroughly. Drying and picking out my clothes were easy tasks, done without worrying as I always dressed in scrubs and always wore my hair pinned in a bun. I usually let it dry that way. After dressing, I treated myself to a Starbucks coffee and blueberry muffin before driving into work.

  “Hey, boo!” Serena called, seeing me the moment I walked in. “Ooh. Somebody looks like they finally got some,” she chimed.

  “What?” I asked trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Oh, don’t try to play me, girl. I know that face. You’ve been all uptight and now you practically gliding.” I turned my head to the side trying to avert her gaze, but the sudden rosiness of my cheeks gave me away.

  “Oh my god, oh my god. You did! Tell me. Who was it?”

  “Nobody,” I said, waving my hands in the air trying to direct her attention somewhere else. “So who’s on rounds today?”

  “Oh no, girl. You don’t get to get away that easy. Tell me, tell me.”

  I don’t know her like that. I didn’t know too much about Serena. I knew she was a year younger than me, genuinely excited about helping people, and didn’t like nuts in anything she ate. Aside from that, I didn’t know anything about her – whether she had kids, what she did after work, or if she was even in a relationship.

  “Look, you look like you could use a friend, right?” She didn’t pause long enough for me to answer, “And I know I could use one too.” She sat us down until we were side by side on a bench and leaned forward. “Who else are you gonna tell? We’re both new here, we’re the closest thing to friends either of us has got. So I’m thinking we should stick together.”

  I looked into her eyes and I saw what I knew she saw in mine—loneliness. We both needed a friend.

  “Okay.”

  “Great!” she said sounded every bit like a cheerleader, even smiling like one. “Now spill.”

  “Okay.” I sighed deeply, like I didn’t want to admit anything. “There is this guy.”

  She squealed like we were in grade school. “I knew it! I knew it! Tell me more.”

  “It’s complicated,” I said.

  “No, ma’am. It’s never really that complicated. Simplify it for me. Don’t play me. You really like him, don’t you?” she prodded.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “Then that’s all that matters, honey,” she said tapping my hand. “Now let’s get to work,” she said with a wide smile. “And then who knows, maybe later we can do something after our shifts end. That’s how friendship works right?”

  “Right,” I said with a smile.

  My patient for the day was an older woman who seemed to be on my round every shift. The woman in the bed was old beyond a natural lifespan—and paying the price. While her heart beat stubbornly in her pigeon chest, her skin was so fragile it ruptured from anything more than the softest of touches. Her open eyes were not focused but move randomly, white, obscured with cataracts so complete that I couldn’t even tell you her eye color. Her hair is wispy over a scalp that showed signs of pressure sores, pink from constant contact with a pillow or chair. I raised my voice and called her name. "Emma, Emma, can you her me? It’s Nurse Kaylen.”

  After no reaction, I asked her to raise her arm: nothing. I applied mild pressure to her temple and her hand moved feebly as if to swat me away, but missing by many inches. She's still in there alright, just deaf and blind.

  I giggled and let her go.

  “Okay, Emma. I see you.”

  I saw several patients throughout the day, but in the back of my mind I wondered about Evan and Ethan. Why hadn’t I heard from either of them?

  I pushed out the door and paused walking down the hallway.

  I know that head. Why is that head here?

  “Evan?”

  He turned quickly and by his face I could tell it was Ethan.

  Ethan. What are you doing here? Did Evan find you? He was looking for you. We were worried about you.” My voice trailed off at the look on his face. His eyes were wide with terror.

  “No. he didn’t find me. He’s here.”

  “He is? How do you know?”

  “They found him! Passed out, beaten half to death on the side of the road. ”

  “Who found him?”

  “The ambulance! They called me! He’s in a goddamn room somewhere and they won’t tell me where he is.”

  “What?”

  That doesn’t make sense. They tell family members where the patient is.

  “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know. Something bad. Help me, Kaylen. Where’s my brother?”

  I slid behind the nurse’s desk and searched his name. “Evan Hunt.”

  “He’s in the emergency wing. It says he’s in severe condition… He just got out of surgery. That’s why they couldn’t tell you wh
ere he was before.” I didn’t realize that the volume of my voice was rising. “What happened to him?” I asked, more to myself than to Ethan as I read through his chart.

  Head laceration. Concussion. Bruised ribs. Broken nose. Severe bruising.

  “Let’s go.”

  Together, we ran down the stairs to his room. I pushed it open without pausing and gasped at the man on the bed before me.

  The man lying in the hospital bed was nothing like the man that had left my bed this morning. I tried not to stare at his nose, but my eyes kept coming back to it. One moment they were obediently on his swollen eyes, and the next they were rested on the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary nose only hours before; so ordinary in fact, that I could not recall what it had looked like. His left eye was too swollen. I knew he couldn't see anything out of it and probably wouldn't for a while, but his right eye wasn’t as bad. He could see through a slit of the swollen flesh. His eyelashes poked through like clumped spikes from the thin strip of skin that wasn’t discolored. His face was still covered in congealed blood in some places.

  My bottom lip trembled and I struggled to hold myself back. His brother should be by his side. When he tried to say my name, his cracked lips failed at the first syllable. I hurried to sit by his bedside. I reached forward to hold his hands. “I’m here,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m here,” I said pushing back his limp, dirty blond hair.

  I forgot about Ethan, who was beside me. I forgot about what I read on his chart. All I could think about was him possibly leaving me, and that idea didn’t leave space to thing about anything else.

  Were we ever strangers? I couldn’t remember. I'm not sure we ever really were. That day I first saw him there was something even then, though I didn't know what.

  “Who did this to you, bro?” Ethan said, wringing his hands. “Who the hell did this to you?”

  “Skulls,” he whispered.

  “What?!” Ethan screamed. “Why the fuck were you in Skull territory?”