by J. B. Havens
The clicking of a latch had me turning in panic. Relief sagged my shoulders when I saw that it was just Rook coming out of his room. Dressed similar to me, he was tying his rumpled hair back as he walked toward me. I waved him to the stairs instead of speaking. It was hard to sneak around when all of the people in your house were trained to wake at the slightest sound. Once I passed the first landing, I felt safe to talk without waking anyone. “Morning, Rook. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mic. What do you have there?” He pointed to the box that I was tossing from hand to hand.
“Um. This? Well, it’s a box.” I led the way down the hall into the great room. The sun was just beginning to rise and the whole castle was quiet and still, the twinkling white lights on the tree giving the room a warm glow. Presents and bags of all shapes and sizes filled the space under the massive ten-foot tree.
“Fine; if that’s the way you want to play it, go ahead. I can be patient.” Bumping my shoulder, he turned back to the hallway toward the kitchen. Off to start the coffee, most likely.
I found the small pile of boxes that I’d placed under the tree the night before, one for each of the guys and several for Aunt Beatrice. We had a lot of Christmases to make up for. Even Maggie had a pile, though she wouldn’t be in today. Aunt Beatrice wouldn’t hear of our maid working on Christmas. Besides, we’d had a huge feast last night and there were plenty of leftovers. Aunt Beatrice was going to make a big brunch today as well. Since she had known that she wouldn’t have time to shop, she had emailed a list with explicit instructions for Flynn to take care of. He continued to swear and rack up kitchen duty with her. Kneeling next to the tree, I shifted gifts around until I made a small space. I tucked the box into the back and arranged the other packages back into place. My hands trembled as I straightened a bow on the box holding Aunt Beatrice’s new tablet. I stood and tried to ignore the shaking in my legs. Rook came in carrying two cups of coffee. “Thanks.” I took the offered cup and sat on the huge couch. The cushions were deep and soft, cradling me as I carefully sat back.
“Not gonna tell me, huh? Should I guess?” Rook took a sip of his coffee, not looking at me directly.
“If I say anything, I’m going to lose my nerve. Just shut it and follow my lead after all the other stuff is opened.” My coffee jiggled, spilling out a little onto my hands. I set the cup on the end table and quickly stood, attempting to pace out my anxiousness.
“Suck it up; you’re going to be fine. You need to chill or you’ll give yourself away. You look like you’re about to puke.” Rook chuckled and settled in to wait for the others.
I didn’t have much longer to stew. Flynn came barreling down the stairs wearing black pajama bottoms and a Santa hat. “It’s Christmas! Why is everyone still asleep? I wanna open presents, dammit! Did someone get me a Red Rider BB gun?” Dropping to his knees, he slid across the polished floor and came to a stop just inches before crashing into the tree.
“Would you knock it the fuck off? Jesus Christmas, Flynn, you’re an adult; act like one! Where’s Red?”
Sticking his tongue out at me, he started flipping over tags, looking for his presents. “Still asleep. I tried to wake her up and she yelled at me.”
“Bea Michaels! It’s Christmas! If you curse again, I’m taking all your presents back to the store, young lady. And Flynn, stop it. You’ll wait for everyone to come down or you’ll be on kitchen duty until next Christmas!” Aunt Beatrice strode into the room, clutching her bathrobe closed around her matching pajama set.
Jackson was only a few steps behind her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He plopped onto the couch next to Rook and picked up my discarded coffee, not caring who it belonged to. “If the others aren’t down here in five, I’m waking them up. Let’s get the paper ripping out of the way so I can go back to bed.”
“You’ll be doing no such thing, Fisher. You’re going to help me feed this lot.” Laughing at his glower, Aunt Beatrice headed for the kitchen after taking coffee requests from the others.
While she was gone, Pierce, Roza, Jones, and a silent Nickoli came in. I stuck a finger into my mouth, chewing the already short nail. Where was he? I’d no sooner finished my thought when Chris wandered in, encumbered by a very long, and apparently heavy, blue box wrapped with dark green ribbon and topped with a matching bow. “What the hell is that and where have you been hiding it?” I couldn’t help but ask. The box was easily five feet long.
“It’s a castle.” He shrugged and set it at my feet. He kissed my cheek and stepped back. “Merry Christmas, babe.”
“What? That’s mine?” I looked from the box back to his face. His grin was wide, flashing his dimples, and his deep green eyes glowed with excitement.
“Sure is.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his grey sweat pants and rocked back on his bare heels.
Aunt Beatrice came back in with a tray of coffee cups and began to pass them out. “Well, go ahead then. The suspense is killing us.”
I sat on the floor Indian-style and ripped off the paper. I had no clue what it could be; I hadn’t asked him for anything. All of my thoughts had been consumed by the tiny ring box. “It’s a gun case…” I let my words trail off as I flipped up the metal latches. The case was stainless steel and engraved with the Steel Corps insignia. It was such a work of art, I couldn’t wait to see what was inside. I dropped back the lid. Nestled inside the custom foam insert was the most beautiful piece of equipment I’d ever laid eyes on. Reaching in, I lifted it out. The weight settled comfortably into my arms as if the weapon had been made for me; I could see that it really had been.
“The upper and lower receiver set is an AR-10 .308 Winchester caliber. It has a telescoping recoil-reducing stock with a cheek riser, a twenty-inch one to ten twist barrel, and a Seekins Precision adjustable gas block. And it has a CMC drop-in three pound trigger manufactured in Arlington, Texas. The bolt release is also a Seekins Precision with an ambidextrous safety, which works well with gloves.”
I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to find words. Jones was standing over my shoulder looking down in awe. He reached out a finger to touch the magazine well with its skull cut-out, but I slapped his fingers. “No one touches her but me.”
“Looks like Jones has rifle envy,” Flynn whisper-shouted to Pierce.
“Chris… how?” I popped out the adjustable stock, lifted it up to my shoulder, and looked through the optics.
Chris came up behind me, resting his hands over mine on the rifle. “The scope is a Nikon M-308 four by sixteen power with a forty-two millimeter objective.”
“Does anyone else feel like he’s talking dirty to her and we need to go away?” Flynn smarted off.
I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw Jones raise his hand silently.
“I know a guy in Fort Worth; his name is Kevin and he’s a gunsmith. I told him what I wanted and he either made or procured each piece. Then I put in a call to Liam, who in turn, greased some palms and helped me get it into the country. Merry Christmas.” He kissed my check and once again stepped back. “I thought you needed a new rifle.” Shrugging and looking rather sheepish, he waited for my response.
“Well. Your gift almost trumps mine for you.” Handing the rifle over to an excited Jones, I knelt and dug out the tiny package from under the tree. “Think fast.” I tossed him the box and stayed on my knees. I stared at his face as the red paper fell to the floor. Curiosity was evident as he turned the small box over in his hands, as if he could figure out what it was from looking at the outside. It was just a plain black box, nothing special. Sparing a glance at Aunt Beatrice, I saw that she had her hand clutched to her chest. The only other woman in the room, she knew what was in there without needing to be told.
Disbelief and shock registered as Chris slowly flipped up the lid. “Bea?” He asked, uncertainty causing his voice to waver.
Scooting forward on my knees until I was close, I looked up at him with hope and fear competing inside. “I-I
wanted to do this in front of everyone. So they would all know what you mean to me.” He held up the ring of black titanium with two narrow wire cables nestled inside a cut-out around the middle of the band. “This is it for me. This place, this job. You. You’re it. I don’t want or need anyone else. Marry me?” I choked out the words, my determination all that I had to get me through it.
Chris reached down, jerking me to my feet, and lifted me high against his chest. The box was forgotten on the floor and the band of metal was tightly clutched in his hand. “Yes.” His voice was thick with emotion and as tight as my own. Joy burst through me like a bomb. I grabbed his face and pulled it toward my own, taking his mouth with the same relentless battle that he had waged on my heart. He set me down, laughing, and I wasn’t ashamed at the few tears he wiped from my face. I took the ring from him and slipped it onto the fourth finger of his left hand. It fit perfectly. “I’ll have to go shopping now to get you a ring,” he whispered, running his finger over the smooth black metal.
“No need.” Hidden in my pocket was the matching band. Mine was a little narrower and only had one wire instead of two. Handing it over, I extended my left hand. He slowly eased it onto my finger, closing my hand into a fist around the ring.
“This doesn’t leave your finger. Ever. It means you’re mine and I’m yours.” Kissing my knuckles, he drew me into another embrace.
Applause thundered and echoed through the room. Laughing, I turned around, having completely forgotten about everyone for a moment. Rook’s nod and smile were the first I saw; then I searched for Aunt Beatrice. She was sobbing into Jackson’s chest. I pulled away from Chris and went to her. I touched her shoulder lightly, then she turned to me and fell into my arms, sobbing. “Aunt Beatrice, you’re freaking me out. Are you happy or not?”
“Y-you did it backwards.” She hiccupped and wiped her face, sniffling and drying her tears. “The man is supposed to ask you; there are rules, you know.”
I laughed and hugged her tightly. “Aunt Beatrice, when have you ever known me to follow the rules?”
Red had snuck in at some point; she shook my hand and admired the rings. “I knew it. You two are lucky; not many people get this chance in our line of work. Don’t blow it.”
“Likewise,” I returned, lifting my chin to point out Flynn on the other side of the room, struggling with a bottle of champagne.
“Smart ass.”
Over the course of the next hour, the rest of the gifts were opened with child-like abandon. Paper was strewn from one end of the great room to the other, accompanied by empty boxes and discarded ribbons. Brunch was served and eaten with all of us still in our pajamas, even Aunt Beatrice, who was sporting new pearls and working with Jones on setting up her tablet.
My rifle was in my lap and I was looking over each and every detail. The craftsmanship was astounding. I loved the feel of it, the smell of the metal and gun oil. “I’m going shooting. Gonna sight this baby in,” I announced to no one in particular.
Jordon put aside his puzzle box that Flynn had gotten for him and followed me upstairs. “I’ll come with you.”
Carefully placing the rifle on our bed, I stripped and changed into heavy pants and a sweater and pulled a beanie on over my head. I tucked gloves into my pocket, grabbed the rifle, and ran down the steps, excitement bubbling within me. With Chris by my side, I led the way to the shed on the edge of the range. It was too cold and wet to lie on the ground unless I had to; since no one was shooting back I decided to use the comfort and heat of the small shed.
“You’re amazing. Just in case you didn’t know it.” I didn’t look up from where I was loading a magazine with rounds.
“Of course I know it. But your gift is better than mine.”
“I don’t know about that…” I smiled as I lifted the rifle into place against my shoulder and flicked off the safety with my thumb. “Ready?”
“Go for it, babe.” I don’t know whose grin was bigger in that moment, his or mine. My ring bit into my finger in a strange and unfamiliar way as I settled the rifle more comfortably against my hand. I squeezed slowly. The first round left the barrel, the recoil against my shoulder welcome. Using a spotter’s scope beside me, Jordon reported on the shot. “You’re high and right.”
“Got it.” I made adjustments on the scope and fired again.
“Better. Still high, but you’re centered now.”
Back and forth we went until each of my rounds was hitting dead center of the target. Two magazines of ammo later, my blood was rushing through my veins with adrenaline.
“That was better than sex.” I laughed, breathless.
“I take exception to that!”
Shoving him lightly, I packed up my gear, left the shed, and waited while he closed it up. “Well, maybe not better than sex with you.”
“We’ll have the rest of our lives to debate it.” He fiddled with his ring through his glove, a somber expression on his face. “I never expected you to propose, Bea. Not ever. I thought about asking you a million times, but I was so sure you’d say no. That marriage isn’t for people like us.”
“Six months ago, I would have agreed with you. But now? We’re not the same people anymore and I’ve found that I don’t want the same things. If that makes any sense.” The snow crunched under our boots as we slowly trekked back to the castle. The shadows were lengthening across the landscape, the sun beginning its descent.
“It makes perfect sense. When do you want to get married? I’m assuming you’ve thought about it. What kind of wedding do you want?”
“You’d think so, but I haven’t. I was never like most little girls, dreaming of the day her handsome prince would be waiting at the end of an aisle in a big church. I don’t really care, as long as it’s legal. Low-key and fun, those are my only requirements.”
“Sounds good to me. We don’t have to decide anything right now.”
My thoughts turned sour. “We will have to deal with Russia at some point. They are coming, of that I have no doubt. Rook and I talked about it a bit; he’s going to get in touch with some people back home, along with Brody at Trident. See what they can dig up.” Nickoli was a concern; I wasn’t sure how he would handle all of this.
“We’ll fight. Just like we always have. Just like Jones said.”
We reached the front door and knocked the snow off of our boots. Taking the rifle to the gun safe in our room, I tried not to let the foreboding I felt ruin this day. But as per the norm, violence would find us no matter what we did. I could only hope that we could deal with the Russians once and for all. I refused to give them any more pieces of my soul. I touched the scar on my cheek softly. I had paid enough, sacrificed enough to this cause. I would end it and get on with my life. Here with Chris and the others. If I had to bury every last one of those fuckers, I would make my new life a surety.
Chapter 11
Dimitri sat at the dinner table with his wife and two children. The family meal was an important closing to the day that he did his best to attend. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Muttering in annoyance, he checked the screen. This was not a call that he could send to voicemail. “Excuse me; I must take this.” As the leader of the Russian Bratva, or brotherhood, he needed no permission. His wife knew better than to comment. He was the master of his home, as well as of the Bratva. Once out of earshot, he spoke into the phone. “What news.” It was not a question, but a demand for information. They’d taken one man, Alexei, and gotten every scrap of information from him before ending the miserable wretch’s life. Unfortunately, Alexei hadn’t known the location of Steel Corps.
“They are in the United Kingdom somewhere. They travelled there once they left Russia. We’re narrowing it down now.” Peter, one of the upper-level flunkies, conveyed the information. He was important enough to make the call, but still expendable.
“This is why you interrupted my meal?” Dimitri growled in annoyance. “Don’t call me again until you have a location.” He ended the call and left his phon
e on the hall table, determined to ignore work for the next half hour.
Once again taking his seat at the head of the table, Dmitri continued to eat the delicious mushroom stroganoff his wife had prepared. He sampled the golubsty, a cabbage leaf filled with meat, allowing himself the time to relish and enjoy the food. The only thing he would enjoy more would be spilling the blood of that woman and her so-called men. Anxious to pinpoint their whereabouts, he let his mind conjure up images of their deaths. He pictured himself striding into the room, his soldiers surrounding the men and their bitch. Rook would be taken care of first; he was too dangerous to play with. Killing him would be easy. A knife would do the trick; the blood would be hot and would flow heavily. He could almost feel it on his hands where he’d smear it, wearing the liquid like macabre gloves. He would slice through her men like the Red Sea. One-by-one, they would each fall to his purpose until only that bitch remained. He wanted her to suffer, to beg for her life and for mercy. Mercy that would not come. He would stand by and watch their lives melt away like snow in the spring. His revenge would be absolute, his justice complete. His plan for her would not end with her death; that would be too quick and easy for her. He owed her a lifetime of suffering and he always paid his debts. If she thought Julio was a monster, she had no idea of the horrors that would exist in his world. She and her team had made many enemies over the years—adversaries who would pay a tidy sum for the chance to dismember the blonde. Dimitri would have ultimate revenge and profit, rolled into one shiny package.
