Nate squeezed the trigger. The silence of the surrounding forest was shattered by a reverberating boom that sounded across the rooftop patio, drowning out even the crash of waves against the cliffs below for a moment. Time stood still. Justin screamed, a wail of rage and pain, and then Nate and the young man watched helplessly as Justin clutched Miguel by the waist and the two of them disappeared over the side of the building.
Shoving his ankle revolver into his jacket pocket, Nate dashed toward the edge. His life flashed before his eyes, or maybe he was hyperventilating. Miguel lay on the balcony below, one arm at an impossible angle, but Nate could see him trying to move. Thank god. Oakes had hit the metal railing and continued downward another level to where he now lay, sprawled on his back on top of a crushed birdbath. The barbecue fork still protruded from his arm. Nate was an excellent shot, even with his left hand, and he’d hit Oakes square in the chest. He wouldn’t be bothering anyone ever again.
“What’s your name?” Nate asked the young man.
“Angel.”
“Well, Angel, I think you’re safe.” Then Nate collapsed.
“He’s going to be okay. The doctors say he will wake up when he’s ready.”
Nate wondered who the voices were talking about and also wished they would be quiet so he could go back to sleep.
“Yeah, well, I want him to wake up so I can discipline him for reckless behavior.” That grumbly voice Nate was familiar with. “The next time he goes off half-cocked like that, I am going to take him behind the woodshed. I’m starting to feel like I’m on repeat with this guy.”
“No offense, sir, but I think Richardson has sustained enough injury for now.”
“I can be very patient.”
“His sister is waiting in the hall.”
“Why is Mel here?” Nate rasped without opening his eyes. Only one sister would visit him.
“Did he just say something?”
“Richardson, please, for all our sakes, would you do something so we know you’re in there?” Adam Klay again. Nate felt a hand on his arm. “Squeeze my hand or something. Christ, I feel like I’m in a Hallmark movie.” A cool hand slid onto his, and Nate squeezed it as hard as he could.
“Bring Ms. Richardson in, and summon the nurse.”
Only Klay would use a word like “summon” when talking about other people. Weren’t summons for witches and curses? Did Klay believe in witches? Nate drifted off wondering exactly what Adam Klay believed in.
“Nate.” He ignored the female voice.
“Nathaniel Derek Richardson, I flew all the way from New York praying that you would still be alive by the time I got here. Open your eyes this instant.”
“Ma’am, it’s best not to threaten patients.”
“It’s best not to ever call me ma’am.” Mel’s voice dripped with venom.
Nate ran his dry tongue over even drier lips, watching his oldest sister through the tiniest slits in his eyelids. “Mel, be nice.”
Mel gasped, “Nate!”
“Can I have something to drink?” He was incredibly thirsty.
“In a moment. The doctor is going to need to talk to you first.”
“Mmm,” Nate grumbled. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the light was excruciating. He heard a door open as the other voice left to retrieve the doctor.
The doctor swept into his hospital room moments later. She was, unfortunately, painfully thorough in her examination. After holding his eyelids open and shining a bright light into each eye, she poked and prodded, asking him about his pain levels. One on scale of one to ten, how much did he want to rip the retina scope out of her hands? It was a ten.
Nate was given a cautious thumbs-up. His sister could stay for a little while, but Nate needed to rest and be aware of his pain and tell the nurse if anything changed. He had a head injury, a slight skull fracture. He learned they’d kept him sedated for a few days and then, apparently, he’d decided to continue sleeping.
He’d also dislocated his shoulder, and his right arm was broken. They would be scheduling surgery to set it properly as soon as possible; they’d had to wait for the swelling to go down. Great.
“How’d I break my—” Memory came flooding back. Justin Oakes, the ambush, the fight. Miguel and— “Miguel?” Oh, and he’d gone against direct orders from his team leader. Klay reentered the room once the doctor left, coming to loom over him before sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Ramirez is fine. Banged up, compound fracture of his left arm. But otherwise he’s fine. Oakes didn’t make it, but I expect you remember that.”
Memories came flooding back. He felt no remorse for killing Oakes. If Oakes had been a good person once—which Nate seriously doubted—he no longer had been by the time of his death.
“I’m going to leave so your sister can talk to you. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.” Nate thought maybe he should worry.
Mel took over the spot Klay had been occupying on the edge of Nate’s bed. Reaching out a shaky hand, she pushed hair away from his face. Nate’s hair wasn’t long enough for that, but he figured she was reassuring herself that he was really alive.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” he muttered.
“You did. You scared me bad. Don’t ever do that again.”
“Did anyone else come?” He hoped they hadn’t; he didn’t think he could deal with his father or other sisters right now.
Mel’s smile was betrayed by a sorrowful expression. “No, just me.” She looked tired and worn. It was usually easy to forget Mel was almost fifteen years older than he was.
“You were only ever the one anyway.” Nate never had been close to his other sisters. They mostly ignored him or found ways to make his life miserable. Like the balloons. Humiliation was their forte. After their mother died, Mel had been the only one.
“I’m listed as your next of kin. I’m the one they called when the doctors thought you might not make it.” She looked fiercely at him, her auburn brows coming together as she repeated, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“Mel, I’m a federal agent,” he said with a tired sigh. They’d been over this ground before.
“Don’t ever respond to a crime scene without any backup again. I’d continue this conversation, but I’m pretty sure your boss is going to make you bleed far worse than I can.”
Great.
He was feeling tired. More tired. His head pounded as he tried to make the pillow comfortable. What did hospitals use for pillows, anyway? It felt like nothing more than a sheet of twenty-pound bond paper.
“So, who is this Miguel person no one wants to tell me about? Is this the same friend you mentioned on the phone?”
Mel had always been perceptive. Nate hadn’t gotten away with much over the years. They used to be close, really close. Mel had been his protector, the one who listened when he needed a shoulder to cry on or when he was on the run from the terrible two, Cathryn and Kelsie. The big question was, would she listen now?
He had listed her as his next of kin, but they hadn’t been close in years. Nate had learned to keep his head down and power through life on his own. An orphan of sorts in his own family. He looked at his sister, trying to decide if honesty would be worth it. Mel regarded him in return, concern and worry clouding her blue eyes. Would he lose her forever? On the other hand, maybe he already had, and being honest wouldn’t make a difference.
“Look, Mel.” Nate gazed over her shoulder toward the door behind her. “I’m gay.” He let his eyelids slide shut.
The room was quiet. The only sounds Nate heard were the quiet murmur of voices out in the hall, a swoosh as the air conditioning came on, the beeps of unknown medical equipment. He finally found the strength to open his eyes again and look at Mel. He’d hoped to avoid this conversation with her. But he supposed that was cowardly and not fair, most especially to Miguel. Or maybe not, if Miguel never spoke to him again after Nate almost got him killed.
Tears were not what Nate expected. “Being gay isn’t the worst thing. At least I’m not dead.”
“Don’t you fucking joke about being dead, asshole.” Mel wiped her face. “Remember when I said there was something I needed to tell you?”
“Yeah?” Nate answered tentatively.
Mel stood, clasping her arms around her small waist. She always had been too skinny. Nate wondered if she had anyone at home to make sure she ate and slept enough.
“I need to tell you some history first. Don’t interrupt.” She looked sharply at him, and Nate nodded. “A long time ago there was a girl who married very young. She was pregnant with her first child quickly. The child’s name was Melody, and she ended up being the oldest of three sisters. Life went on. The girl raised her daughters and tried to live the life she had created for herself. She was unhappy, although her daughters had no idea. A little more than thirty years ago, she went to her high-school reunion and ran into an old flame. One thing led to another, and before she knew it she was having an affair. Ten months later, she gave birth to a baby boy.”
Nate shut his eyes, allowing Mel’s words to wash over him. If he wasn’t looking at her, he could pretend someone else was speaking.
“Mom didn’t give up the baby. She hoped that no one would ever find out her transgression. She had already broken off the relationship before she realized she was pregnant.” She raised a hand to keep Nate from speaking, not that he could. “You and I always looked enough alike that it wasn’t a problem. The problem is, Father was never fooled. And…” her voice broke.
“And what, Mel? What? Just tell me.” Nate couldn’t confess that at this moment the only thing he was feeling was a horrible sense of relief that he didn’t actually carry any genetic material from the man he’d called Father.
“He used you against her. He said he would put you in a home, that she would never see you again. The only reason he didn’t was because you were a boy. If you’d been a girl, I think he would have gone through with it. She lived with that until you were three.”
“Why?” Nate asked through gritted teeth. The pain in his head was stronger than ever. Why would anyone choose to live with a monster like that? Were he and Mel the only ones who saw Clint Richardson as he really was?
“Mom was going to leave him, and they had a terrible fight. I locked myself in my room, but I could hear everything. Cathryn and Kelsie weren’t home. They were at a sleepover. I was supposed to be out too, but I’d snuck away and come back home. Mom left the house, angry, hurt, and scared. Father had threatened to take us all away where she would never find us. He said if she left, she would never be allowed to see us again. And he would put you in a home.”
Nate had been too young to have actual memories of their mother’s death. Suddenly the car accident she’d died in took on a dark and terrible meaning.
“Did she kill herself?”
“The accident was ruled just that: an accident. I don’t know, Nate, a single-car accident on a road she drove all the time? On the other hand, I don’t think she would’ve left you alone.”
“Why tell me now?”
Mel twisted her hands together. Nate reached out his good hand to stop her nervous tic.
“Why?”
“It seems you are not the only cuckoo in the nest. It’s amazing what genetic testing tells you these days. Apparently I wasn’t premature, as Mom told me. You and I have more in common than being gay.”
“Wait, so. Wait.” He shook his head, “What? Why did you wait so long to say something? Just wait.” It would have meant everything to Nate to know he really wasn’t related, that it hadn’t been his overactive imagination as a child and teen imagining he didn’t really fit. And, Mel lesbian? How had he never known? Maybe if he had known about Mel he would have thought more about his own sexuality. He was confused, and the pounding of his heart only made his head hurt worse. He wasn’t sure which emotion was more prevalent: anger, confusion, or betrayal. Except this was Mel, the one person who stood by him. The only one… until something happened in high school.
“What happened when I was in high school?” Nate thought back to the phone conversation they’d had only a few weeks ago.
Mel paced around the room. She sighed a few times before answering, “I was outed. It was stupid; I knew what father would think—and say. I thought I’d been so careful, but one of the toady law students interning in the office saw me out with, well, more than a friend. The conversation was ugly and hurtful, but I must say I find it ironic that you are gay without any influence from me.”
A nurse poked his head in. “Is everything okay in here?” he asked. “Monitors are going a bit haywire.”
Nate couldn’t fully process what Mel had told him. He had so many questions. She answered the nurse. “We were talking. I’m going to head out now.” Looking him right in the eyes, she said, “I love you, Nate.” And started to leave.
“Wait.” She turned to look at him. “Where are you staying?”
“I can’t stay, Nate. I left during difficult internal negotiations at the company, and now that we, I, know you’re not on death’s door, I have to head back.”
She was gone before he could formulate a response.
The nurse fluffed his covers and pillow. Nate shut his eyes, hoping no one else would visit. He needed to process, but the meds dragged him under into a blissful sleep. He almost could’ve imagined the conversation with Mel had been a dream. How had he never known she was gay?
Surgery on his arm happened that afternoon, and he was in a fog of painkillers all over again. Mel called at some point, but Nate wasn’t fit to have a long conversation. The pain in his skull abated, but the doctors warned he could suffer from headaches for some time while he healed. He had suffered a brain injury and needed to treat himself with care.
Two days after surgery, Nate was given the green light to go home, with strict instructions to rest and take it easy. He was off work for at least two weeks. Miguel hadn’t visited. Mel didn’t call again, although he did receive a bouquet of flowers and a get-well card.
Miguel, though… Nate didn’t know what to think. He’d probably realized Nate was a bad plan, and Nate had no way of getting in touch with him. He supposed he could call Swanfeldt’s and see if Miguel was there. But he didn’t want to be a pest. He’d already asked Klay and gotten a shrug. He was in the doghouse enough as it was.
Life felt ephemeral. Maybe it was all the pain medications he’d been on, but he felt separated from himself and from the world in general. Klay picked him up from the hospital and drove him home. Even his house felt surreal. Who was the Nate who’d moved to Skagit and bought a house? Who picked out a tan leather couch set with an accent rug? Who watched, and enjoyed, porn with a guy he’d just started to get to know?
“Thanks. For the ride.” Klay brought the few things Nate had at the hospital, setting them on one of the couches.
“I’m sure you won’t thank me in a few weeks when you’re back to 100% and I can really yell.” Klay grinned; it was not a nice grin. “I haven’t told Gomez yet.”
Nate whimpered. “Yeah, boss, I know.” He did know. He’d violated every rule in the book going after Oakes; he was going to hear about it.
“Please behave while you’re on leave? Call if you need anything, and you might as well start calling me Adam when we’re not at the office.” With that he was gone. He never was one for unnecessary niceties. The door shut behind him. Nate shuffled to his bedroom where, without taking off the scrubs he’d been sent home in, he crawled into bed and pulled the covers over his head. Fuck. His. Life.