Dixon

by Kris Michaels

  Drake cleared his throat, snapping Dixon back to the hall where he stood. He gave his brother a fake smile, dangled the key from his hand and asked, "Ready to face the music?"

  "No, not really," Drake responded but moved to the other apartment door anyway.

  Dixon inserted the key and opened the door. The short hallway was tiny, and between the two of them, they filled it. Drake slowed for a moment, causing Dixon to bump into him. He gave his brother a shove.

  "So, tell me why I'm having this conversation, in person with both of you. And you'd better make it good because I'm thinking of throttling you both at the moment." Jason's gravelly voice floated around his brother, who was still blocking his way.

  Dixon gave Drake another shove. Jason stood in the small—okay, fucking tiny—front room, wearing blue jeans and a grey sweatshirt with faded blue lettering that read United States Air Force. Beside him sat a person Dixon wasn't expecting. Gabriel sat in the only chair that would hold someone his size.

  Drake slid over into the micro kitchen and Dixon followed suit. They may or may not have been using the high counter between them as shelter. Drake gave him a quick look. Yeah, they were using it, and they both knew it.

  Dixon leaned forward and placed his elbows on the counter, staring at the two men in front of him. Neither looked happy.

  "Talk now and don't leave anything out."

  "Shit went downhill the second I stepped foot in New York." He shook his head. "Not one damn thing went according to plan."

  "I've heard." Jason's arms crossed over his chest.

  "From Moriah?" Dixon countered.

  Jason lifted his chin. "She wasn't supposed to reveal herself to you."

  "It wouldn't have mattered. She was taken by Stratus, and I was getting her back at any cost." Dixon was laying that fact out there. She was his, and that needed to be known.

  "I’ll be dead in my grave if I don’t show when he calls, " Drake added.

  Jason glanced at Gabriel who smiled and held out his hand.

  "Fuck." Jason groaned and reached into his back pocket, withdrew his wallet and handed the man a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

  Dixon glanced at his brother, who shot him a look at the exact same time. Dixon swung his attention to the two men in front of him. "The bet was?"

  "Not what you'd imagine." Gabriel folded the bill and placed it on the table. "I bet Jason your fucking father wouldn't break you."

  Both Dixon and Drake swiveled their attention to Jason. "You bet against me?" Dixon felt like he'd been sucker punched.

  "No, I countered his bet because I knew you were stronger than that. I told him you'd complete the mission without dragging your twin into it." Jason chuckled. "I would never bet against my men or my family, and I consider you both."

  Well hell, didn't that set a man on his ass?

  "Start from the beginning. We need to know everything." Jason pulled out a stool from the other side of the bar and sat down. The thing groaned under his weight.

  Dixon leaned back against the refrigerator, but before he could start the door opened, and Moriah walked in. She stood beside him and crossed her arms. There was a tiny flinch. She was hurting. Dixon lifted his arm and dropped it across her shoulder giving her a little tug. She held firm for all of two seconds before she melted into his side.

  "From the beginning." Jason repeated.

  Dixon returned his attention to Jason and began, "Well, from the get-go the entire mission took a radical right-hand turn. I got into town and immediately let it be known I was back..."

  Make it stop already! Moriah wanted nothing more than to take a shower and shut the men in the apartment the hell up. They'd beaten the horse. The damn thing was dead. Past skeletal, down to dust and the dust had been blown away. Fucking hell, they could talk.

  "Isn't that right?"

  She blinked up at Dixon. "What?"

  "I said you needed to see a doctor."

  She pulled away and bit down on a wince. "I'm fine." Her tone carried all the don't fuck with me attitude she could shove into two words.

  "Sure, you are." She turned her glare on Dixon's brother. The man had a smart mouth.

  "What? I saw the bruise across your back. I'd be down for the count with an injury like that." Drake shrugged.

  Moriah twisted her neck, and it cracked before she spoke. "Then you're a wuss."

  All four men laughed. She cocked her head and observed them. Her delivery must have been off. That wasn't meant as a joke.

  "Everyone is clear on the way forward?" Gabriel asked. Moriah didn't not like the plan. It was...well it was not entirely comfortable, but to be with Dixon, she'd walk barefoot over broken glass.

  Dixon glanced at his brother before he looked down at her. She shrugged and regretted it immediately. He saw her wince and nodded. "We'll leave now."

  "The woman should be waking up within the next hour or so," Drake interjected as he tossed the keys to Archangel.

  "Got it."

  "Before you go, Dixon, we need a word," Gabriel said, and Moriah understood she was dismissed. She stepped out of the small apartment and glanced at Mrs. Henshaw's door. She'd call the woman tomorrow and let her know they had to leave suddenly and to please use the groceries so they wouldn't go to waste. Moriah hated the fact that the woman's children didn't check on her. They'd wanted to put her into a nursing home. It would have killed the woman's spirit. Damn good thing Bengal had set up a support system for her. Hell, they'd even started paying her rent. Lycos had made a letter up and sent it to her telling her the rent was being subsidized by a new government program. They'd each contributed to the fund to make sure Mrs. Henshaw didn't have to choose between rent, heat or food.

  Drake followed her out and shut the door. "You're good for him."

  She glanced at the door across the hall and whispered, "I'm an assassin."

  "And?"

  "And? How can an assassin be good for anyone?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall carefully.

  "He doesn't see what you do for a living. He sees who you are as a person."

  "A killer is a killer."

  "Then we are all damned to hell and should just blow our brains out." The sarcasm dripped off Drake's words.

  "Probably, but I'm too damn busy to worry about your dilemmas." She wasn't going to back down to this guy. She loved his brother, but she wasn't so sure she even liked this one.

  Drake sighed and glanced at the door he'd just closed. "Listen, I don't know you. You don't know me, but we both care for that lug more than just about anything in the world. I know you'd die to protect him and so would I. Why don't we cut through the shit? You hurt him, and I'll hunt your ass down, and I will kill you."

  For the first time since she'd planted herself inside that SUV last night, she smiled. This guy had just climbed up ten or twenty rungs on her respect ladder. "You could try." She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

  He stared at her for about thirty seconds before he nodded. Once. Challenge accepted. Not that she'd ever give him the opportunity. She'd cut off her arm before she'd hurt Dixon.

  "I approve, by the way."

  "I don't need your approval," she spat automatically before she cocked her head and glared at him. "What exactly do you approve of?"

  He chuckled. "You and him. Together, the two of you somehow make sense. You're not who I'd choose for him." Drake leaned back against the wall and mimicked her stance. "But then again, this decision is one I am happy I wasn't involved in. He's healing and finally moving forward. With you. That is what I approve of. The fact that he's coming into his own, which is all I ever wanted for him. The relationship we have as twins is unique. The relationship you have with him is one of a kind. Don't hurt him, Moriah."

  She stared at Drake. She didn't doubt that he loved his brother. She could see what Dixon meant. The brothers communicated without words or without too many words. She mentally rolled her eyes at the verbal diarrhea she'd heard last night. The brothers were close, and th
at was a fucking good thing.

  This posturing Drake was doing was a testosterone driven mandate he must have felt was necessary. Whatever. She was secure enough in her acceptance of who she was to not give a shit about any other relationship Dixon may have. No matter how close the brothers were. The only dynamics that mattered were what she and Dixon felt for each other. They'd connected. That connection was purely physical at the beginning. Not now. Not since Christmas Eve. Before that, if she was honest.

  The door opened, and Dixon walked out. His eyes found her before he looked at his brother. That single action let her know how much she meant to him. He looked for her before he looked for his brother. Priorities were easy to understand. Dixon was hers, and she was his.

  "Are we ready?" Dixon asked.

  "As we'll ever be." Drake spoke up, answering for her. Damn but the man could talk. She moved off the wall, but Drake's voice stopped her again. "You know when I said Jason was going to be pissed?"

  "Seem to recall something about it, but I was hyped up on gummy bears at the time, so I wasn't responsible for my actions." Dixon got a fist bump from his brother. Yeah, thirteen-year olds.

  "Dude, did you ever think he'd kill you?" Drake laughed and slapped his thigh. Moriah lifted an eyebrow at the duo.

  "Figured he might be pissed enough to do it, but..." Dixon shrugged.

  Drake lifted a fist and Dixon bumped it again before he said, "Whatever it takes."

  "As long as it takes." She parroted the response at the exact same time as Dixon. When the men looked at her, she pointed to the stairs. "Well?"

  "See? Bossy as fuck." Drake chuckled and slapped his brother on the shoulder.

  Chapter 23

  Dixon was dragging ass. He watched the comings and goings of various Senate staffers as politicians came into the room. The vote would happen in less than three minutes. He knew the C-SPAN cameras were recording. The digital camera had a red light next to it, and it was a requirement that the light be on when the camera was active. He held his phone in his hand. Waiting.

  The clerk started the roll and Dixon glanced around the room. His phone vibrated, and he immediately answered it. "Joy?"

  "No." The mechanical voice replied.

  "I told you I wanted to talk to her before I voted." Anger laced his response.

  "You will vote as we direct, or she dies."

  "She could already be dead. If I don't talk to her, you don't get your vote."

  "And then you are exposed as a murderer."

  Dixon snorted, "And your eyewitness? Where is he?" There was a pause before Dixon continued, "He came to me and told me he worked for you."

  "You killed him?"

  "You'd be surprised at what I am capable of doing." Dixon lifted his eyes and glanced around again.

  "You will regret challenging us. The evidence we have is damaging enough to ensure you are arrested."

  "I regret nothing. You, however, will regret the day you decided to take Ms. Nguyen from me. Let me talk to her."

  "Perhaps. If you vote our way."

  "You know that won't happen unless I talk to her." Dixon looked up as the clerk neared his name.

  "Your choice. Vote for us, she lives. Vote against us, she dies," the controlled mechanical voice replied.

  Dixon terminated the connection and answered when his name was called. He stared at the C-SPAN camera while the rest of the roll was called and through the vote. He leaned forward, ignoring his legislative assistant, who'd settled beside him at the start of the vote. "Mr. Simmons, the Senator from New York, how do you vote?" Dixon stared at the camera as he responded. "Nay."

  "Mr. Simmons, the Senator from New York votes nay," the clerk droned after his response.

  Dixon stood and buttoned his jacket. "Sir?" His aid blinked at him as if he'd grown three heads in the last sixty seconds.

  "Stay here and bring me the results of the vote." His directive dropped his aid's ass back into the chair. The man nodded. Dixon glanced at his watch and pushed forward through the crowded hallways and across the massive lobby of the old, distinguished building. He swung into the coat he'd been carrying and stopped just inside the doors. He adjusted the vest underneath his button-down shirt and, after casting a glance around, adjusted the Velcro to close the armor plating. The blood pouch that circled the vest added a couple inches, but not enough that cameras would notice. Dixon slid his gloves on and took a breath before he reached in his coat pocket and pushed the small device that he cupped in his hand. He stood aside to let others out while he counted to sixty as directed.

  He took a deep breath and exited. He moved exactly as directed. Straight out of the building. He stopped fifteen feet clear of the door and stood still. Completely still and positioned the large capsule he'd been given between his back molars. Fuck. This waiting was harder than–Fuck!

  The force of the bullet that hit his chest pushed him back like the kick of a fucking mule. Dixon's body twisted, and he crumpled as he smacked the ground. The echo of a shot couldn't be heard, at least not by him. He'd bitten the capsule when the bullet struck his vest. He gasped. Fucking hell. His chest heaved. He gasped again. A face appeared over him. Fuck, he gasped again. He was never so damn happy to see that fucking eye patch. Dixon tried to reach up, his body jerked, stiffened and then...

  "Is he okay?" Jacob watched Adam as he filled a syringe. The ambulance they were in jolted through traffic.

  "He'll be fine. Sore as a motherfucker, but all right." Doc answered as he administered the drug.

  "Are we ready?" Jacob shouted up to the front of the ambulance.

  "Roger, Skipper. You got less than a minute to get strapped in." Chief answered as he drove.

  "Get that in him before we hit that ramp, Doc."

  "Not helping, Skipper." Doc pulled the cap and injected the medication into Dixon's arm. The needle went into a sharps container, and Doc scrambled for the NASCAR-style seat belt system. He latched the last clasp about two seconds before the ambulance hit the ramp and flew at sixty miles an hour into the open back of a semi. A myriad of ropes and foam stopped them inside the trailer.

  Jacob held his eyes closed and concentrated. The wail of the waiting ambulance fired, and the noise echoed away from the overpass. He heard the trailer door close and felt the truck lurch forward before he opened his eyes and reached over to flip on the interior light. "Chief?"

  "Good to go, Skipper."

  "Doc?"

  "Fucking hell, I'm getting too old for this shit."

  "Yeah, don't I know it?" Jacob chuckled and palmed his phone. "We made the swap."

  "Roger that. How is he?" Jared asked over the phone.

  Jacob looked at Doc who'd unstrapped and was feeling for a pulse. Doc nodded and leaned back. "He's okay."

  "Now comes the hard part."

  "Do we have our doctors waiting?" Jacob asked.

  "Yes. It is going to be tricky, but we've covered every base that we can possibly cover." Jared's voice sounded distracted. "Hold on." Jacob could hear a conversation in the background.

  "Jason relayed the woman is going to be gold, if not platinum."

  Jacob nodded. "Gold fucking works."

  "I agree. It's a start." Jared replied.

  "Jewell, how long to the airstrip?" Jacob shrugged out of the seat belt system.

  "About an hour and a half due to traffic. Drake is waiting to take off." Jewell's voice came across the connection.

  That was good. Jacob glanced at Dixon, who looked like death with the blood all over him. "Roger that. Apprise him we are on our way."

  "Dude, like that didn't happen the second you were in the ambulance," Jewell chastised.

  "Silly me, thinking you'd wait for instructions," Jacob quipped.

  "You've met her, right?" Jared joked along.

  "Hey! You say that like I'm Jade or something," returned Jewell's indignant response.

  "Love you, Button." Jacob laughed as he ended the call.

  "You okay here, Doc?"

&nbs
p; "No, Skipper, I'm going to cry because I'm afraid of dark, closed-in places." Doc lifted his blue eye up, and Jacob flipped him the finger. Adam busted out with a hearty laugh. "Yeah, I'm just going to make sure Dixon sleeps for a little bit longer. That medication made him seize pretty damn hard. He's going to ache like a motherfucker.”

  "Sucks to be him."

  "It could be worse. He could actually be dead."

  "Truth." Jacob put out his fist, and his best friend collided his own against it. He moved to the front of the ambulance and sat his ass down in the area between the two seats so he could talk to Chief. "Where you been, man?"

  Chief chuckled and scrubbed his face. "All over Russia. Following rumors and leads."

  "Nothing on Taty's sister?"

  "Nothing." He glanced at Jacob. "We're back for good. It's killing Taty. Hoping and having that hope crushed. She made the call."

  "Fuck, that sucks, man."

  "It does. How have you been? Any new kids?" Chief's eyes glittered with humor.

  "Fuck you, man." Jacob chuckled as Doc's shout of laughter came from behind him. "Nah, I think we are done on the kid front." Jacob pulled out his phone and slid his finger across the screen, pulling up pictures of his four boys. "They're everything. What about you? You and Taty going to have kids?"

  Chief shrugged. "We haven't talked about it." He handed Jacob's phone back to him. They sat in silence for a moment before Adam moved forward and sat on the other side of the opening from Jacob. "Shit sure has changed." Chief mused.

  "Isn’t that the truth," Jacob replied. "We've been through the grinder."