Dixon

by Kris Michaels

  "Know anyone by the name of Joe?" Drake asked after he hit the button so another song wouldn't queue up.

  "You know that isn't what she was trying to tell me." Dixon leaned forward and stared at his shoes.

  "Okay, so she's a Shadow? Why would she let you know that?" Drake put the computer on the coffee table and assumed a matching position as his brother.

  "I think it's one of two things. Either she is letting me know so I know she can handle what is going on, or she's letting me know so I can inform Guardian she's in trouble." Dixon shook his head. "I don't know that she wasn't asking for help."

  "You think she's telling you to leave her, that she's got this?"

  Dixon shook his head again. "I don't know."

  "You’re not leaving her." Drake's statement wasn't a question.

  "No shit, but I do have a question for you."

  "Yeah, what's that?"

  "Gummy Bears or Sour Worms?"

  "Shit."

  Dixon smirked. His brother, his other half, knew him like no other.

  Drake laughed, "Bears, and it’s not like I didn't see that twist coming. So much for my filibuster. Dammit, I was looking forward to it, too."

  "Liar." Dixon called him on it.

  Drake laughed leaned back and inclined his head to the computer. "No seriously I was getting a semi thinking about learning international trade laws." They both laughed and Drake continued, "My one shot at being a senator flushed the second that song played, didn't it?"

  "Absolutely." Dixon confirmed.

  "Thank God." Drake laughed and stood up. "Better get me two bags of bears."

  Chapter 20

  "Dude, you realize we are not prepared to take out a small army." Drake grumped for at least the tenth time. Dixon ignored him. Again.

  "Seriously. I've counted seventeen men, three women and that little fucking rat of a dog."

  "Shut up, and they might not hear you." Dixon used the night vision goggles as he focused away from the house and the lights that made the damn things useless. He was thankful for the standard tech in the Guardian Suburban. Speaking of which... "How the hell did you get a Guardian Suburban without telling Jason or Jacob that you were here?" Dixon pulled the goggles from his eyes and stared at his brother.

  "Simple." Drake shrugged. "Jewell." He popped a gummy bear into his mouth and chewed on it.

  Dixon gave his brother the stink eye. "What did you tell her?"

  "Not a damn thing. Just asked her to have a Suburban standing by at the airport. She did it, and I'm leaving it at that."

  "Jason's going to nuke her ass when he finds out." Dixon put the goggles back over his eyes and scanned the outbuildings. There were three guards on the small brick building. He grabbed a gummy bear and popped it into his mouth.

  "He won't find out from us, so unless she decides to waltz in and let him know we are up to something..."

  "Like that would ever happen." Dixon chortled softly.

  "So, she's good." Drake agreed. He glanced over toward the large house. "Seventeen men, three women, and a fucking ankle biter. What's the plan?"

  "Right now, I say we take out those three, get Joy and get out."

  Drake made a dismissive noise. "So simple. Eloquent even."

  "Thank you."

  "I was being facetious."

  "Really? I never would have known. And facetious? Really? What's wrong with sarcastic? Have you been reading that damn thesaurus again?"

  "No, and I can know words, asshole. Besides, the point I am making is what are we going to do after we spring the assassin from the building?"

  "Oh." Dixon dropped the goggles. "We go back to D.C., and I vote."

  Drake shook his head. "And then they out you as a murderer?"

  "Their witness has disappeared. Remember?"

  "Their witness is snoring in a soft bed in a great fucking hotel after eating three fucking meals," Drake grumbled as he popped a handful of gummy bears into his mouth. "I should have gotten the Sour Worms."

  "Poor baby." Dixon reached into his vest and pulled out a bag of the sour coated gummy worms. Drake always changed his mind halfway through a mission. He'd learned to be prepared.

  "Awesome." Drake used his knife to slice the bag open. He pulled two out and popped them into his mouth before he moaned, "Fucking delicious."

  "Does your fiancée know what a fickle bitch you are?" Dixon took a worm from the bag.

  "She isn't my fiancée. I told you she turned my ass down." Drake moved the bag away from Dixon. “I had to come rescue you or I’ll never get married.”

  "Damn, that's right." Dixon was amused and hurt for his brother at the same time.

  "Last light is out." Drake carefully rolled up the bags of worms and bears and pocketed them.

  Dixon handed his brother his set of goggles before he set a hand on his brother's arm. "What do you know about The Fates?"

  "You mean the mythical ones?"

  "Yup."

  "Uhhh...three goddesses. Clotho was the one who did the loom thing and made the thread of human fate or was it life? Lachesis was the one who doled it out and then the third...Atropos was the one that snipped that bitch. Why?"

  "Three women you say?" Dixon glanced over at the house.

  Drake groaned, "You don't actually think?" Dixon looked back at him and lifted his eyebrows. Drake groaned again, "Fuck me."

  "No thanks."

  "That wasn't an offer. Seriously. There are fourteen men in that house." He pointed to the manor and then pointed to the squat brick building. "Only three over here. That we can see."

  "But three, maybe four or five over here, versus fourteen and three women who may or may not be mythical goddesses."

  "Yeah. There is that." Dixon glanced back at the building where he knew Joy was being held.

  "Three against fourteen is better odds than two against fourteen." Dixon smiled and swung his eyes from the small outbuilding to the grand colonial mansion sitting on the ridge of the mountain.

  Drake sighed, "Don't forget the maybe demigods."

  "Couldn't forget them." Dixon acknowledged.

  "Seriously, you want to take them on? We could call in some reinforcements."

  "And what if they aren't The Fates? We blow your cover, and it sets Guardian back eight months, plus pisses off Archangel. No thank you." Dixon mentally listed the reason they needed to do this shit by themselves, even though he knew his brother was well aware of the reasons.

  Drake shifted and glanced at the small building. He looked at Dixon and held up a finger. "First, you told me she was roughed up. How much help can she be?"

  "She's a Shadow. I've seen her totally fucked up and still plenty spry." She'd be an asset even injured. “You have no idea of the magnitude of badassness packed into that tiny package.” Dixon put down his goggles and extended his hand.

  Drake sighed and pulled out the gummy worms, handing the bag to him. "B, we don't know for a fact she's that Moriah or hell if she is Moriah and not a Joe or Josephine or Josey."

  "B does not come after ‘first’. ‘Second’ comes after ‘first’, and ‘B’ follows ‘A’." Dixon took a worm and handed the bag back to Drake.

  "Tomato-Tahmahto," Drake replied before he popped a piece of candy into his mouth and chewed on it.

  Dixon rationalized out loud, "If she's injured so badly that she can't fight, we'll leave. But dude, if we are this close to The Fates and we don't try to—A, fuck them up—second, take one if not all three of them—or C, gather any intel we can from that place—Jason would kill us."

  "Okay, if I can't mix up the identifiers, neither can you. And you forgot D."

  Dixon glanced at his brother. "What's D?"

  "D is Jason is going to fucking kill us no matter what we do. I'm not supposed to be in Washington, and you are not supposed to be going on a rescue mission to spring your lover who may or may not be a Shadow. We are so fuckity-fuck-fucked no matter what we do."

  "Granted...but how bad could he freak if we br
ing home a Fate or two with us?"

  "Oh..." Drake's head rolled to the mansion. "There is that."

  "Right?"

  "So..." Drake extended the bag of candy to his brother.

  "Whatever it takes, D." Dixon grabbed another worm and watched as his brother's smile grew.

  "Fuck yeah, it has been far too long, and if you ever leave my ass again, I'm going to beat the ever-loving fuck out of you." Drake extended his fist and Dixon reached out and bumped it. "As long as it takes, D."

  Dixon waited until Drake stowed the candy once again, and they lifted silently from the small knoll where they'd been watching the house. Dixon rolled out to the left, Drake to the right. They'd done this maneuver so many times they could do it in their sleep. Their feet took measured steps, and even though Dixon couldn't see Drake, he knew exactly where his brother would be. They approached the building from different sides. Each would silence the guards as they approached. The men outside the building were tired and cold, and that limited their movement. Dixon sprang up behind the first man. Beyond a grunt, the guard didn't make a sound.

  He lowered the man's weight down quietly and pressed forward to the corner of the building. He peeked around the corner. There was only one guard standing at the front of the door. He leaned against the door, and his low voice rumbled as he spoke on the phone. Dixon pressed against the brick of the building and listened. Whoever 'Baby' was, she was making the man happy enough to reach down and grind his hand against his cock. Dixon caught motion at the other end of the building. He stifled a laugh when Drake stuck his finger in his mouth and acted like he was barfing. God, he had missed that man.

  Dixon grabbed a rock and tossed it into the trees in front of the man. He didn't even glance in the direction of the sound. Drake stuck his head around the corner. Dixon shrugged. Drake picked up a stone and tossed it with some speed. The thing clanked among the branches. The guy glanced up but dropped his gaze almost immediately. "Yeah, and then what?" The man spoke into the phone. Dixon assumed he was trying to sound sexy, but the guy sounded like he was in pain, and maybe he was because he was bucking into his hand at this point.

  Tired of waiting, Dixon stood, and Drake mirrored him. They walked toward the man who did not look up. Not once. Drake cocked his head, and Dixon shook his head. No, Drake, not now.

  His brother raised his eyebrows up and down quickly. Fuck.

  Drake stomped up beside the man and leaned against the building. The guy glanced over at him and then back down at his own feet. Dixon stopped and waited. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three– The phone in the man's hand flew from his grasp as he scrambled for his weapon. It took less time for Drake to take the man out than it did for the guard to realize he'd fucked up. Dixon reached out and grabbed the phone. He flashed the screen to Drake. The display read Hardcore Phone-Sex Hotline.

  Drake grabbed the phone and carefully placed it so it wouldn't disconnect. Dixon shook his head. Drake smiled and shrugged before he nodded to the door.

  Dixon raised his hands and signed, we don't know if there are guards inside. Be careful.

  Drake acknowledged him. They each stood on one side of the door, and Drake reached up to open the door, letting it swing in gently. There was no noise that he could detect. Dixon went low, and Drake went high as they rolled around the door frame and entered the building. The large area was filled with gardening crap–a small lawn tractor, clippers, shovels, rakes, and other assorted items.

  They moved down the length of the building, clearing behind and between items that were big enough to conceal a human. At about midway they both dropped and found cover at the sound of a toilet flushing.

  Dixon glanced over to where he knew Drake was hunkered down. The door directly in front of him swung open. Dixon reared up, and with everything he could put into it, he kicked it shut. The body behind the door slammed into the jamb. The door ricocheted off the body and flew back at Dixon. He sidestepped the slamming piece of lumber and lunged.

  The man's rifle clattered to the ground, and Dixon let it go, knowing Drake would be there within seconds. He grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled the man down, colliding the man's face with his knee. His arm went around the stunned man's neck. The other hand grabbed his chin, and Dixon applied torque, snapping his spine. He let the guy drop to the floor and swung around, instantly ready to act. Drake's back was to him, his weapon up as his brother scanned the room for any additional threats.

  Dixon tapped Drake on the back, and they moved as one person to the last door in the building. They squared up outside the door. Drake on the right, Dixon on the left. Some things never change. Dixon watched as Drake thumbed the deadbolt on the metal door. The deadbolt on the outside wasn't engaged. Drake's eyes flashed to Dixon's.

  Dixon nodded, and Drake turned the door handle, pushing it in carefully. The smell of blood and feces hit Dixon. Something or someone was dead. Drake signed I'll go. If she's gone, you don't need to see it.

  Fuck that. Dixon rolled into the room and came face to face with a long thin knife. "Hello, Quick Draw. What took you so fucking long?" Joy lowered her hand which held the knife and limped toward the door. "Thank fuck. Fresh air."

  She knew it wouldn't take Dixon long to put the pieces together and find her, or at least she hoped he would. Actually, she thought he'd be here long before now, especially if he called Guardian. She'd left her Guardian issued cell in her car, and the computer geniuses at Guardian could have tracked her in a nanosecond. Even though the thing was turned off. Which it was...wasn't it? Whatever. She needed a bath and fresh air. Especially fresh air. The bastard on the floor had come into the cell they were holding her in with the intent to rape her. He told her his friend would come in after he 'broke her in' and they'd party. The man didn't have time to think about his next sentence before she'd killed him. Hell, she'd have been out of the fucking room if it had a door handle or the hinges had been on the inside, but no such luck. She was waiting for the other one to decide to join the fun when Dixon finally showed up. Just like a fucking senator. Slow to make a decision.

  Dixon grabbed her arm. "Are you injured?"

  She glanced up at him. The concern on his face made her feel so damn good. Like she mattered. She'd never mattered to anyone before. It was a feeling she could get used to, real fast. Joy reached up and pulled him down for a quick kiss before she answered him, "Other than having a shovel handle broken across my back? I'm fucking fantastic." She rolled her shoulders and nodded to the door. If she let herself think about it, the pain would stop her from moving forward. So, she wasn't going to think about it. But she needed something else. Desperately. "I need fresh air."

  He wrapped his arm around her and walked toward the door with her. "You’re limping."

  She held up the knife, the hilt of which was the heel of her shoe. The knife was ingenious. It was made of tiny steel pieces that folded and bent until the mechanism on her heel was pushed down. That held the steel into place, forging a knife out of the tiny shards. The small pieces that were present when the lever was up made the material malleable and able to fold down into a pocket located in the arch of her shoe. "I'm only limping because I may have broken my heel."

  "Damn good thing we brought you a change of clothes then."

  "We?"

  Drake rolled into the room and she stilled. She cocked her head and glanced from Drake to Dixon. "Huh." Moriah flicked her knife from one to the other. "Yeah, I don't get it."

  "What?" Both he and Drake asked at the same time.

  "I heard once you guys were impossible to tell apart." She pointed at Drake. "He's dead, so that makes him a ghost."

  "You're a Shadow. We should get along well."

  Moriah cocked her head before she grunted and limped to the front of the small cell. It fucking stank.

  "What did that mean?" the man she'd believed was dead asked.

  "The grunt?" There was an amused edge to Dixon's voice, which was directly behind her.

  "Yeah."
/>   "Beats the fuck out of me. I told you she grunts more than Frank." Dixon put a hand on her arm stopping her. He did a quick check of the exterior of the room before he nodded back at them.

  Moriah stepped out of the cell and took a deep breath of air. A small knapsack was placed in front of her. She opened it and looked in. Fucking fabulous. She pulled out her worn combat boots with socks stuffed inside, a long sleeve black shirt and her black camo pants. Moriah lifted her dress over her head.

  "Whoa, dude!"

  Moriah's head snapped around.

  "Turn your fucking ass around." Dixon's hand was on his brother's shoulder, and he spun the man.

  "But– that's one hell of a bruise." Drake turned his head and tried to see her over his shoulder.

  Dixon growled, "I see it, and I'll take care of her. My woman, my view."

  She grabbed the shirt and pulled it over her head. A small smile crept across her face. She rather liked that. His woman. She played the words in her head while she shoved her legs into her camos. I'll take care of her. Well, dammit, she didn't need to be taken care of, obviously, but fuck yeah, she'd let him...every once in a while.

  It took less than two minutes to get her clothes on, her boots laced and borrow a real fucking knife from Dixon's brother. The live brother, not a ghost, which was particularly helpful. She hefted the Interceptor 911 in her hand. The hilt was too large, and the blade was a bit big for her tastes, but she was back in business.

  "What's next?"

  "He thinks The Fates are in the mansion." Drake nodded to Dixon.

  "Huh." Moriah's brain slotted the information, and she nodded, stepping out toward the only exit of the building.

  "Hey, where are you going?" Drake's voice again.

  She stopped, spun and cocked her head at Dixon's brother. Was he really that thick? The man was a certified genius, right? Or did she just assume that? Dixon was...oh, maybe Drake was the slow one of the two.

  She glanced over to Dixon. "He slow?"

  Dixon's eyes bugged out before he nodded. "Yes. Extremely."

  "Hey!" Drake cuffed his brother.