Sway ordered a triple espresso latte at the hospital cafeteria counter, then moved his tray along the line. He felt an elbow bump his, but he ignored it, surveying Monday’s lunch selections. He was starved, having skipped breakfast. He asked the café worker for the roast beef combo, then glanced over and saw it was Dr. Dominick touching him. Leaning out of reach, he spoke, “Dr. Dominick, afternoon.”
“Hello Sway. I see you’re no longer calling me James. What happened? I’ve been demoted.” The suave doctor bumped Sway again, moving down the line. He pulled a large garden salad from the display and a bottle of grapefruit juice.
“I don’t want my nurses thinking it’s all right to address you like that, so I don’t think I should.” Sway sat at a table near the window, thinking Dr. Dominick would find some of his physician colleagues to sit with, but to his uncomfortable surprise, the head of Nephrology sat directly across from him.
“Your nurses,” Dr. Dominick said. A bit of arrogance and jackassery’ mixed in with his smooth tone. “You work for me, Sway. They are my nurses.” Dr. Dominick glared at Sway. “And so are you, Nurse Hamilton.”
Sway frowned, not sure if the doctor was being serious or pulling his leg. Dr. Dominick chuckled lightly and popped the plastic lid on his salad, not clarifying one way or the other. Sway went about eating his lunch as quickly as possible, not liking the company.
“So,” Dr. Dominick blurted in his OR voice, making Sway jump. “Are you attending the nurse’s appreciation gala next month?”
Sway still ate quickly. He had to swallow his mouthful before he could answer. “I don’t think so. I haven’t even bought a ticket. Black tie isn’t really my thing.” The nurse’s gala was a formal black tie the hospital threw for the nursing staff. Okay food—not really his taste—and nice music, but Sway hated renting a tux or the way he stood out, going dateless each year.
“That’s a shame.”
Sway nodded, uninterested. He cleaned up his area and went to stand. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”
Dr. Dominick clenched Sway’s wrist in a vice-like grip when he tried to pass by. Sway peeked to see if anyone was watching, but no one was paying them any attention. “Stop by my office before you leave for the day, Nurse Hamilton. I’d like to discuss the new patients.”
What was he going to discuss with him in private that hadn’t already been addressed at their team meeting this morning? Sway gave a clipped ‘yes sir’ to his boss and left the cafeteria. Fuck, he hated Mondays.
Brian
Brian slept like shit. Of course. No nightmares but lots of tossing and turning and reaching for someone who wasn’t there. Not that he’d gotten used to Sway—he just craved him. Brian got up at five in the morning and put on some jogging gear. It was a frigid thirty-two degrees outside but once he got a good pace going, he’d heat up.
At nine-thirty, Brian walked into Colt’s office, his run and weightlifting having done little to settle him. His session went well. He told Colt about the progress in his and Sway’s relationship and that they’d put a label on it and it was official. Brian had confessed to having a couple of flashbangers’—was what he called them—not full on flashbacks, but glimpses of the war or his trauma. One had been after his run that morning. He’d jogged up his driveway and a horn startled him unexpectedly. When Brian had flung around to see what it was… all he’d seen was vast expanses of desert. Afghanistan desert. He shook his head and the image retreated. Flashbanger. They were quick, but could pack a wallop. Brian didn’t want his flashbacks to take over. But, Colt felt it was because Brian was pressuring himself to be an exceptional boyfriend and not giving himself time to adjust.
That part was true. Brian had put his complete faith and trust in another person who wasn’t his brother or his team. They focused on that for a while. Colt wouldn’t have been his therapist if he didn’t tell Brian to not overdo it. Before they wrapped up, Brian gave Colt a brief update on his speech therapy appointments. When he told Colt that he felt stronger vibrations than ever, Colt assured him to take his time and not to pressure himself to speak. By ten forty-five Brian was back at work with his counselor’s words continuously ringing in his mind. “When you need to… you’ll speak, Brian. I guarantee you that.”
No one else was in the office. Brian decided to get started on their backup plan of filtering through the hotel employees for any connection to their jumper. It was busy work and exactly what Brian needed to keep his mind occupied. He did his throat exercises and breathing techniques while he went through one employee profile after another. Clearing his throat, he started on the next rep of exercises. Flexing his neck and throat muscles. As usual, it was only another couple of minutes until his mind drifted to Sway and he wondered if he was having a better day after his cranky start. He checked his phone to see if he had any new messages, but Sway hadn’t sent another since the sweet one he’d sent when he’d woken up. It was a picture of him with a grumpy look on his face and bed-rumpled hair. He was still in bed but the alarm clock in the background read five-forty a.m. Sway’s text was simple and made Brian’s heart sing. ‘I sleep better in your bed.’
Brian lost himself again in the monotony of cross-referencing when his phone dinged with a text notification.
Duke: B. what’s your location?
Brian: Office.
His desk phone rang, five seconds later. Brian hit he speaker button and listened.
Duke’s deep voice blared through the device. “Brian, Quick and I are still in Buckhead. I just got a tip that JayBoy was seen going into his apartment building. I’m sick of helping this little shit and he keeps stiffing me. He swore the last time I bonded him out that he’d be the first one in the courtroom on his date.”
Brian groaned under his breath. James Boyd—better known on the streets as JayBoy—was a habitual drug offender. Never selling, only using. Duke had a soft spot for the young ones who had it rough, and fell victim to their environment. He’d help them if they got in a jam, but he wasn’t afraid to dish out some tough love either. JayBoy wasn’t a bad guy, he just had to learn how to leave that dope alone. When he was clean, he worked, he stayed out of mess. But, when he used, he started fucking up and that bothered Duke. The kid was only twenty-two, and none of them believed he belonged in jail. Oh, yeah. They were all very familiar with JayBoy and he’d been through these enough times to know Duke was sending Brian for him, eventually.
“If he’s home, you go there and put some fear in him, B. If he’s clean, then you tell him he better meet me in the office tomorrow and I’ll go down with him myself.” Duke paused and mumbled something; maybe talking to Quick. “But, if he’s using again. Take his ass in. He’ll detox the hard way this time.”
Brian was already printing off a copy of James Boyd’s revoked bond from the Sheriff’s database and standing to tuck a few pieces of hardware on him.
“Your brother and Dana are two blocks down, waiting on Marks to show up for work so we can wrap that up, too; so I want them to stay on their route. No need for them to be pulled away for a tip that may not be legit. If you need transport for Jay then ring Ford to come with the truck. Cool?”
Brian pushed a button once in acknowledgement and hit the speaker button, ending the call.
Atlanta had a lot of beautiful, affluent communities, but it also had a lot of bad ones, too. It was a general consensus that safety was north of South I-20. Brian was headed way past that and beyond. Clayton County was known drug and gang territory. One entered at their own risk because calling 911 didn’t ensure assistance. Brian squeezed his steering wheel as he turned onto Royston Street, easing his Mustang down the back lot of Central Park apartments. There wasn’t much activity for an early Monday afternoon. Shit didn’t pop off around there until after dusk but he stuck to a rule his team lived by: no time was a safe time. Brian parked his car out of view, next to a dumpster behind the large building. Each complex had ten apartments. Five on the top and five on the bottom. Jay’s was on the second floor right next to the stairwell. No one dared using the elevator.
Brian checked his surroundings as he walked towards the rear entrance. He felt those fine hairs on his nape stand up, making him peel his eyes left and right. He felt as if he was being watched. Jayboy couldn’t see him from his apartment because it faced the front. Something else. Brian yanked open the door and took one more look around before closing himself inside.
He took the stairs to the second floor, listening as he moved silently down the dim hall. Voices, televisions blaring and muted sounds filtered through the apartment doors as he did. When he got to number 204, he stopped and listened. The smell of pungent smoke wafted from under the door. Weed. Then slow footsteps. He knocked hard twice then placed his palm over the peephole.
“That you?” A timid voice said from the other side.
Brian waited until JayBoy cracked the door to peep through the chain. When he saw it was Brian he hurried to slam the door shut but Brian shoved his shoulder against it, the flimsy chain snapping like a pretzel. JayBoy looked horrified as he fell onto the floor and scrambled backwards into the apartment, Brian stalking towards him. It would have been the perfect time for the Friday the 13th’s soundtrack to play.
“Brian, please. You gotta get out of here, now. I was gonna go to court but then—”
Brian growled and charged, lifting JayBoy’s thin, grungy body off the floor and throwing him onto the ragged couch so forcefully that it slid across the linoleum and slammed against the wall. Brian advanced again. JayBoy had lost even more weight until he was nothing but skin hanging on bones. His dull, brown eyes were red and hazy, as if he’d just finished using something, or getting over from what he’d used last night. Duke was going to be pissed. They’d given this young man all the chances in the world, and he was still dicking them over. Brian yanked him up by his shirt, the thin material tearing. He grabbed the kid by the neck and made a phone sign with his pinky and thumb, gesturing to the cell phone in boy’s pocket. You should’ve called Duke. Now you’re going back to jail. Brian shook him and pointed at the phone again.
“What? Brian, I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” He whined as he uselessly tried to pry Brian’s punishing grip from his neck.
Then maybe you’ll understand this. Brian pushed his GPS locator on his watch, and signaled Ford to bring the truck. He was taking JayBoy in just like Duke said. It was clear by the sunken eye sockets, the extreme weight loss, and the nervous tics that James was on dope again. Brian yanked out a set of zip ties from his inside coat pocket.
JayBoy shook his head so hard, spit flew from the side of his mouth. He started to protest harder. Bucking and yelling in Brian’s hold. “You don’t understand. I’ll go to court. I will.” Brian dragged him across the room, snarling at his weak attempts to knock Brian’s hand away. Brian yanked Jayboy onto his feet when he tried to drop his weight. He glared evilly and popped the kid in the back of the head a couple of times just like his father used to do him when he wanted him to act right.
“Ouch! Ouch! Quit, Brian. Look, I can’t just leave. He’ll kill me,” JayBoy rambled on. When Brian resumed pulling, the frantic kid swung wildly and punched Brian’s left cheek with his fist. Brian took the hit and frowned, his grip never loosening. Did Jay really think he could hit Brian hard enough to do anything? He’d fought in wars, had gone hand to hand with men twice his size and just as deadly, had taken blows that would put a bull to shame. Being hit like that was an insult to him. Like being slapped by an adolescent girl.
Brian’s livid scowl was warning enough to make JayBoy pale and whimper not to hit him back. Brian pulled the kid out of the door and slammed it behind them. He didn’t know who this ‘he’ was that JayBoy was so scared of; probably a dealer he owed money to. Well, that wouldn’t be an issue when he was behind bars for a while.
“At least let me lock my door, Brian. When I come back I won’t have nothing.” JayBoy dug his heels in.
Brian locked his jaw and gave a curt nod for him to hurry up. But when Brian let him go to get his keys, JayBoy took off down the long hall, barreling straight for the window and fire escape. He yanked the window up easily and dove out onto the landing like a madman running to protect his freedom. Brian was hot on his heels but when he reached the window it fell back down too fast and shattered. Glass rained over his head, a piece catching his temple.
Fuck! Brian winced, pressing his palm against the side of his face. He pulled his damp hand away cussing at the blood on his palm. Shit. The cut couldn’t have been too deep, but face injuries always bled more. Brian knocked the rest of the broken glass out and jumped onto the rickety fire escape. JayBoy had just reached the bottom. Brian was angry now. That little motherfucker. He glanced down to the first floor. Luckily, the covered dumpster was right underneath him, making the jump even easier. Brian leaped over the railing and landed with a terrifying thud onto the metal trash bin and dropped down in time to block JayBoy. There was only one way to get to the entrance and that was through him. Brian felt the blood dripping down his cheek.
“Brian, I didn’t do that,” JayBoy pointed at Brian’s wound. He looked tired, defeated. “Shit. I don’t know who the fuck to run from!”
Brian didn’t care what this twerp was saying any more. His temple throbbed, and his left ankle was a little tender from the jump. He still walked tall, not showing any sign of weakness or fatigue. The kid no longer put up a fight, but he was yelling way too loud for Brian’s liking. He zipped the plastic tie around JayBoy’s wrist extra tight, then slammed his hand over his mouth just shy of hard enough to split his lip. If he didn’t shut up with the fussing. He would do just that.
“Arugh,” He groaned under Brian’s hot palm, but kept his lips closed.
Brian pushed him to sit next to the dumpster. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small tissue that didn’t help much with the blood still running down his face. He pressed the tissue to the cut to try to gauge if he needed stitches. Brian turned away from JayBoy and grimaced. Damn. Hopefully, some tape was all he needed to seal it.
Brian heard tires easing into the small entranceway at the rear of the complex. Assuming it was Ford, Brian moved to pick JayBoy up until he noticed the terrified grimace on his face. Something he saw over Brian’s shoulder had him petrified and cowering back into the corner. Someone he feared more than Brian.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The voice was deep, strong and held a slight edge of trickery. Brian turned slowly, keeping his hands visible, because whoever this was, it wasn’t someone to be played with.
Not if JayBoy’s warning was any indication. “I tried to warn you. I owe them too.”
Brian gritted his teeth, staring at the interesting trio. They all stood in front of a jet black—bulletproof—Suburban. Two of them looked like ordinary thugs if Brian had ever seen any. Low riding jeans. They appeared mid-thirties, young, buff and ready for trouble. One was slightly darker than the other. The one with the buzz cut had on a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt with ass-kicking Timberlands. He’d have been hot as hell if he hadn’t screamed dangerous. The other seemed more collected than the dark one. He had on a plain white tee under his tan Carhart coat, with a gold Jesus cross suspended from his neck by a long chain. However, Brian had a feeling he wasn’t very religious. Dark tribal tattoos licked their way up his throat. Brian didn’t move his eyes from their faces, but he could see they all were packing… and heavily. Wonderful. He’d encroached on gang territory, alone. Now he was in the middle of a bad drug deal. Usually bystanders didn’t just walk away.
“And who might you be?” Tattoos asked.
Brian locked his jaw and clenched his fists.
“Damn,” The odd one spoke up, watching Brian carefully. “Don’t know about this one, Ruxs.”
Brian turned and frowned at the third guy. Who is that, their gang’s accountant? The guy was slim, with black-framed glasses. He wore skinny jeans, with a button-up blue and gray plaid shirt… and a damn bowtie. Brian was still trying to figure them out when the geeky one held up his phone and snapped a picture of Brian’s face so fast that if he’d blinked he would’ve missed it. Brian growled but the dark one just grinned smugly and watched.
The geek pressed something in his ear and spoke. “Free. Run this face for me.”
Shit. What kind of organization had Brian run up on? He needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t leave JayBoy with them. He might never see the kid again. Brian would rough him up but it was always in a big brother kind of way because he wanted the kid to fly right. He didn’t want him beaten and killed over drugs. If he owed them, Brian would pay it, then maybe they’d let them out of there. Money always talked louder. As it stood, the tables had turned. If Brian wanted out… he had to get past them.
Brian held his hands loosely at his sides and started closing the distance between them. He didn’t want to appear threatening, or reveal the tricks up his sleeve, so he moved slowly.
“Cat got your tongue? Who are you, and why are you taking the kid?” This time the dark one opened his jacket and showed Brian the felt grip of a wicked Smith & Wesson Magnum tucked into his waistband. If he fired that thing at Brian, it’d put a hole in him so big, his funeral would be closed casket.
Brian needed to get to his phone, so he could speak, or get a little closer so they could read his lips. If they saw the way he got off that fire escape, or the way he moved when he was countering JayBoy’s wild slaps, they were smart to stay back.
Brian took a couple more steps, when the nerd belted out a bit too anxiously. “Right there is far enough!”
Brian stopped dead in his tracks. He saw concerned eyes behind those frames, nervously cut to the left. Anyone else wouldn’t’ve noticed, wouldn’t’ve paid attention. Brian was made to pay attention to those things. On either side of Brian were brick walls, apartments. To his right there was an indentation in the building to get to the main circuits. A great hiding spot. Whoever was in there was vulnerable and someone of importance. It was dark in the confined space, so using his peripheral didn’t allow him to make anyone out. He could only feel him. Feel sharp eyes on him. There was someone they knew in that hole. If Brian walked any farther, the guy could emerge on Brian’s six. He had to keep them all in front of him.
“Last time!” The one with the hand cannon in his waistband barked. “Who are you?!”
Brian was out of time. He slowly raised his arms as if he was fully cooperating and lifted his hands to position them over his head—his goal—to activate the panic button on his watch. As soon as his hands were up, Brian used his finger and pressed it firmly at the same time a man exploded out of the hiding spot. He was shorter than Brian by a couple of inches, but he was swift and he was skilled.
“He’s contacting someone!” The man yelled, going for Brian’s watch.
Too late.
Brian spun—expecting the charge—and caught the man’s hand as he went for his weapon. Brian kept his opponent in front of him. If his team wanted to shoot, they’d have to get a good shot and Brian wasn’t going to give them that. This was his only chance. Brian was just able to knock the man’s weapon out his hand, hearing the gun clang and slide across the cement just as he reached for his own. The guy spun them, shoving his body into Brian’s midsection. He hit Brian with four rapid elbows to his abs before he was able to block the fifth. Brian threw his own combination that the man was able to counter efficiently as if he knew the move, well. Brian hissed at the clutch on his throat, narrowed his eyes, dropped his chin hard and slammed his head forward into the bridge of the man’s nose. He yelled out in anguish… and so did the nerd.
“Steele!” The frantic voice screamed.
Brian knew this guy’s posse was scrambling to get control, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man he fought; not for a second. Brian heard rushed footsteps and his opponent foolishly turned his attention from Brian and yelled at the bowtie. “No, Tech, stay back!”
Brian took advantage and gripped the man around his throat, applying enough pressure to startle him. Brian ducked, simultaneously yanking his blade from his thigh, spun under his challenger’s strategically thrown right fist and came up behind him. Brian moved faster than a cobra, his strikes just as precise. While his opponent’s concentration was on the geek, Brian landed a fast right hook to his midsection adding enough force to make the man bow over in pain. Seizing the opportunity, Brian yanked the guy’s arm up and behind his head and shoved the sharp end of his widow-maker against his flexed bicep.
The guy instantly stilled in Brian’s hold and cursed silently. The challenger had drawn his own tactical knuckle blade—that looked out of this world—but he’d been too late getting it into position. Brian had beaten him.
He must’ve recognized where Brian’s blade was pointing. Directly over his brachial artery. All Brian had to do was push and twist and the man would bleed out in fifteen seconds. Brian had his knife hand around his opponent’s throat, the other hand held his arm at an awkward chicken wing angle, so his blade was in the perfect position.
“Whoa, whoa! This just got way the fuck out of hand!” The smug one wasn’t sounding so smug anymore. “Who the fuck are you?!”
Brian kept his body and his head safely behind their partner. If they shot, they did so at their own risk. None of them looked like sharp shooters. The nerdy guy, he seemed ready to lose his mind. Little did he know that, because of his distraction, his emotions, he’d allowed Brian to get the upper hand.
“I told you I didn’t know who was scarier. You or God.”
Brian ignored JayBoy’s ridiculousness—not understanding what he meant—still watching the men in front of him. They all had their weapons out and drawn.
“I don’t know who you are, man. But, your day just got real shitty.” The one with the tribal art slowly lowered his chrome forty-five, talking to Brian as if he was a toddler. “Just easy. No one needs to get hurt. Lower your weapon.”
Brian growled and yanked harder, making the fighter in his arms grunt, but he didn’t cry out. Brian might not have believed a word these drug dealers were saying but the one he was holding was a warrior. Men who grew up on the streets didn’t fight like that. A soldier was able to recognize another soldier. If this guy was military, which Brian believed he was because Marines loved to use that throat clutch—then he was disgusted the man had disgraced his uniform by becoming a petty gang thug.
As if his rival understood Brian’s thoughts, he spoke two words that had Brian releasing him immediately. “Delta Force?”
Brian jerked back out of reach, flipping his blade under in a Kendo fighting style, while keeping his arm extended. It was a clear warning not to advance again.
His challenger turned around and searched Brian’s eyes. Cold, hard, gray ones met his own. A silent exchange was made. A truce. An understanding only another veteran would understand. Brian tucked his knife away and the Marine did the same with his.
“Repeat that, Free.” The nerd said, holding his ear again. He jerked up, surprised by whatever he’d just heard. “He’s Brian King. He’s ex Special Forces… and a damn bounty hunter. Duke’s bounty hunter.”
The thugs all grumbled angrily, tucking their weapons away. Right on cue, Ford’s big pickup skidded and stopped at the entrance to the lot. His brother jumped out the driver’s seat before it even came to a complete stop. Dana was close behind, barreling past the four men and straight towards Brian.
Ford’s worried eyes roamed Brian’s body in seconds, cataloging injuries. When he saw the gash and the slight bruise on Brian’s jaw, Ford turned around and glared at the four men who stood watching with guilty expressions.
“Why didn’t you fuckin’ identify yourself man,” Tattoos frowned.
“He’s mute,” The nerd said quietly.
“Geez. Why didn’t you just say that?” The darker one asked.
“Fuck you!” Ford barked, glowering at the man as if he was an idiot. It was pretty idiotic to say.
“You know what I mean.” He waved their incredulous stares off. “You could’ve pulled out some ID or something.”
“How come you all didn’t pull out your badges?” Dana asked, standing beside Brian. He’d handed him a black bandana out of his pocket to press against the seeping cut. “You guys seemed pretty busy protecting your own identities.”
“We’re undercover,” The geek said boldly, glaring right back at Dana. He may have been dressed like a tame boy scout but the coiled muscles under all that plaid said he could probably hold his own.
“Who the fuck did this?” Ford didn’t care about badges or any of that. He wanted retribution for whoever had hurt his brother. “Speak up!” he demanded.
“Does it exactly look like he lost?” The marine said coldly, from beside the nerd. He was wiping the blood off his own lips and the trickle on his bicep.
Brian turned and went to JayBoy who still cowered on the ground beside the dumpster. “That was insane,” The kid gaped at Brian.
“Hey! Can’t let you take him.” The nerd pointed.
Brian and his team gave them a look that said, who’s going to stop us?
“Get him on the horn,” the one with the sexy ink said. “This should be fun.”
“You might want to get Duke over here,” JayBoy said grimly.
“He’s already here.” Duke and Quick came from around the front of the building, walking up behind the officers. Their emergency button had dispatched the entire team, not just his brother. Of course, Duke and Quick were there.
They moved side by side. Quick was only an inch taller, but broader; his long hair flowing down his back. Duke wore a black polo shirt with his logo on it. He was all smiles and confidence when he approached the men Brian had just tangoed with.
“Ruxsberg, Green.” Duke shook their hands. “You causing problems for my men? I thought you only wreaked your havoc on dealers.”
“We do.” The smug one in the Stones shirt was named Ruxs. “Looks like you got a couple new heavy hitters, Duke.”
“Looks like you do too. And you are?” Duke held his hand out to the other two men.
The geeky one held out his hand. “Detective Murphy, Tech, and this is Detective Steele.” He pointed to the man next to him.
“You’re detectives?” Duke said, noting the Marine’s grunginess, then lingering on the trendy man beside him.
“Why do they always stare at me when they say that?” Tech scowled.
“It’s the bowtie, baby,” Steele said, ignoring the raised brow from Duke.
“This has been fun. But we’re in the middle of a sting. We need Jay back in his apartment in the next hour or else we’ve wasted a lot of time.” Green—the one with the tribal tats—seemed to be the more diplomatic of the group. “Can you give us that?”
“What kind of sting?” Quick’s deep voice cut in. He was inspecting JayBoy. He didn’t appear stable enough to pull off a sting. Not by the way he was scratching at his skin and twitching impatiently. “We’re taking him in.”
“The hell you are! Leave. Now!” A thunderous voice boomed from inside the detective’s vehicle.
Duke groaned as if he recognized the voice. Quick cringed like he didn’t want to hear the voice. Brian just stood and listened, wanting to hear more of the voice. Now, who the hell is this guy? Whoever, he was, he was someone everyone listened to.
The one who called himself Tech went to the door and pulled out the large, portable radio and set it on the hood. The deep rumble of the man’s tone boomed through the speaker, vibrating the hood of the car. The threat was real, it was disturbing, and it weighed down on them as if he was really there. Brian swallowed, studying the men he’d just faced off against. They were foot soldiers. Duke was on the horn with their leader.
“I think your name has finally gone to your head, God,” Duke grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Where are you?”
“Nowhere near you, that’s all you should worry about,” the deep voice said, getting right to business as if he had zero time for pleasantries. “Leave my informant right where he is. Take your men and go.”
“Great compromise, God,” Duke laughed. “I got a revoked bond in my hand and every right to take him. What do you have? Four greedy detectives that want to use an addict for their lieutenant’s own gain.”
There was scuffling on the other end, then another voice. “I’m sorry. Are you taking him to the fuckin’ Betty Ford Center, Duke? Or are you taking him to jail so you can get your bounty back?” A sarcastic voice cut in, making the detectives smirk. “Exactly.”
Duke frowned at the radio, he looked at Ruxs and the hot detective shrugged and murmured, “Day.”
Duke nodded knowingly. “Of course. God’s partner.”
“Duke. You owe me one and you know it,” God barked. “Let him just answer the goddamn door, and my guys will be right there to make sure nothing happens. Then he’s all yours.”
Brian scoffed, remembering how he’d tossed the kid around in his apartment and no one had swarmed in and helped. If the detectives were undercover then they still should’ve done something to protect JayBoy better and protected their identities second.
“Playing that card already.” Duke looked at his guys, then down at JayBoy. “Okay, Godfrey. I’ll hold off. But my lieutenant stays to observe. When your op is done, Jay goes with him. Deal?”
“Don’t I have a say?” JayBoy muttered.
“No!” Duke and God yelled at the same time.
“After he makes the call and answers the door, Duke, you can take him down then.” God continued in a louder tone, “Jay, I’ll let the prosecutor know you cooperated and she’ll give you your plea deal.” God ordered his guys back into position, then he was gone. No goodbye, have a nice day… nothing.
“So, we get to keep the badass,” Ruxs grinned at Brian. “Not too many people get the drop on Steele. Mr. Recon himself.”
Brian’s façade dropped along with his jaw. Force Recon. That motherfucker wasn’t just a Marine. He was a crazy sonofabitch!
“Who got the drop on Steele?!” Day’s annoying voice blasted through the radio, again. “Ask him if he wants a job!”
“He’s got a job already,” Duke growled and lowered the volume to zero on the radio while he went to his own men and gave his instructions.
Duke told Quick to stay and oversee the sting and ensure JayBoy was safe. Ford drove Brian to the hospital and Dana drove Brian’s car behind them.
I really need a vacation now. Brian held the bloody rag on his forehead, a slight smile tugging on his lips. His brother might be pissed and brooding but Brian was still wired and high from the fight. He’d unknowingly gone up against a Force Recon Marine. Shit! And, he’d bested him. So, oo-fucking-rah that. Brian wondered for a moment if he’d have still gotten the best of him if ‘hot Poindexter’ hadn’t distracted him. Brian didn’t know, but it would’ve been one helluva fight finding out. One he would’ve relished the rest of his life—still would. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. His unicorn.
Delta Force versus Force Recon.
Brian leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He’d done his team proud. His mind was at peace. His mind went to Sway.