Chapter Twenty-Four

Fox

 

Fox came out the bathroom in his hospital room and saw a nurse adding another IV bag to his pole.

“What the hell is that? I said I don’t need any more pain medicine,” he grumbled. He knew he was being a huge pain in the ass, actually a straight up asshole, but he’d told these people that he was fine and he was ready to go home.

“It’s an antibiotic,” she responded without turning around. Most likely rolling her eyes at him.

Fox sat down in the chair, refusing to lie in that bed all day like they urged him to. He took his walk around the wing like the doctor requested, but he was usually MIA for a few hours, going downstairs to the cafeteria or going outside. He had to follow doctor's orders or else he wouldn’t be able to go back to work. So he gritted his teeth and took it. But if he wasn’t happy, then he made damn sure no one else was going to be happy.

“Who do I have to kill to get a goddamn drink around here? I asked for one like an hour ago. Maybe I’ll just die of thirst sitting here.” Fox flipped through the pages of the magazine Shot left in his room two days ago, wishing his man would call him soon and tell him how the mission went last night. He knew they had meetings after meetings after a successful mission, not to mention all the interrogations. Fox was nervous though. This mission was supposed to go by the book. They were apprehending for prosecution, not for elimination. It was way harder to physically arrest someone than it was to simply put a bullet in their head.

“Mr. Fox. You asked for a drink less than five minutes ago. As soon as I’m done with this, I’ll go get you one,” she said with a huff.

Fox didn’t respond. He picked up the remote for the television and began flipping through channels. At least they had cable. He tried to find a good movie, maybe that would help him keep his mind of his future partner. Fox smiled at that thought. Shot said they were going to be together. Said this was going to be permanent, and Fox couldn’t wait.

He stopped on CNN when he saw ‘Breaking News’ flashing across the screen. A young male reporter was talking about a Russian mob shootout with the San Drendino crime family. Fox knew that’s who Pierce’s team was going undercover as. He sat up and turned the volume as loud as it could go.

‘A fatal shoot out occurred right here behind me on the Lambert’s Point Docks between members of the Russian mafia and members of the San Drendino crime family. We have inside information that this was an undercover sting orchestrated by the DEA and the FBI to gain information on human trafficking that has plagued the United States for the last five years. If you will look behind me you can see the completely destroyed dock. We have confirmation that the number of fatalities is in the double digits and still rising.’

The reporter paused and put his hand to his ear, listening to whatever voice was in his earpiece.

‘Okay. We just got word that there was a specialized military team providing tactical support for the DEA. Unfortunately, it’s been reported that that team has suffered casualties as well. We cannot disclose of the names of the victims at this time until the families have been notified. The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations will give an official press conference this afternoon, we’ll be sure to provide coverage of –’

Fox had stopped listening. He thought maybe he hadn’t heard what he did. There was no way the Beastmasters had suffered casualties. They were too good. Fox was up and yanking his cell phone off the small tray next to his bed. His hands shook as he first checked for missed calls.

Nothing.

Next he dialed Shot’s personal cell. He always answered. Especially since only a few people had that number. Fox paced the small space waiting on Isadore’s sexy voice to answer. When the computer generated greeting picked up, Fox yelled out before he could think better of it. He shook his head ‘no’. Willing this not to be happening.

“No! No! No! You can’t be dead! No fuckin’ way!” he yelled.

Fox’s hands shook so bad now he could barely hold his phone. He looked at it for a couple seconds then dialed his partner David Monroe, who answered on the second ring.

“I was just trying to call you. Stay calm Fox, we don’t know what’s going on yet. And we damn sure don’t know if it’s Shot,” Monroe said as his greeting. He knew his partner. Knew Fox was in love with Shot. Monroe wasn’t only his partner in the FBI, he was his best friend.

“He didn’t answer his phone.” Fox’s voice wavered. “He always answers it. No matter what.”

“Jason, please. Don’t jump to conclusions. You know how –”

“Just tell me David! You know, don’t you? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Fox! Calm down. We got leveled buildings. Disintegrated vehicles. Over thirty dead Russians and still counting. So far we have not found any of the Beastmasters.” Monroe lowered his voice, probably not wanting to say that name too loud in their office.

“Please. Please find him.” Fox’s agonized voice sounded foreign to his own ears.

“I will find him, Fox. I won’t stop until –”

“Oh god.” Fox choked on a sob. He went down to his knees, clutching his phone to his chest. He looked back up to the television and saw a crane hoisting the Beastmasters charred command center out of the water. Pierce, Viper, Oh no. Call. “I should’ve fuckin’ been there! He needed me, and I wasn’t there!”

Fox didn’t know he was yelling. Didn’t register that he was tearing his sutures as he destroyed his hospital room. A terrified staff came barging through the door. It took two security officers, five orderlies and two doctors to hold him down so the nurse could administer the sedative. He didn’t want to go to sleep. He fought with everything he had in him. Yelling Shot’s name. Yelling for his lover. He was fighting a losing battle. The chemicals coursing through his veins, victorious. Within minutes he was asleep.

 

Pierce

‘We will continue to provide up-to-date details on this story. Our hearts go out to the families of the police officers and military team that lost their lives trying to protect us.’

Pierce muted the television and pulled his knees up to his chest, a blanket thrown over his shoulders. He was back at his parent’s house in the country in Rappahannock County. Of course they were off seeing the countryside in an RV somewhere. But despite sounding like a baby, he wished his dad was there to tell him that ‘Those are the ropes, son. The life of an agent’. His father was retired DEA. He’d always talked to Pierce about mentally handling the job, and Pierce always walked away feeling better. But no one was there. He was alone in his childhood home, waiting. Waiting for any word from Dane Aramis. He’d gone home like his lover told him to. But he hadn’t heard a thing. No matter what avenue he went through, no one would give him information on the Beastmasters’ whereabouts. He’d called the Mayor’s office, but of course, no one was returning his calls. Everything was classified even to him now. He’d stormed into the DEA office and tore his director a new asshole at not revealing any more information to him.

“The task force is terminated. Backhander is no longer active.” The man looked tired. He was sure he’d been up the last two days, doing endless press conferences and interviews.

“I gave the DEA fifteen fuckin’ years of my life. Gave you immeasurable intel. Secured hundreds of convictions for you. All I want to know is one goddamn piece of information. Where are the Beastmasters? Who was killed? That’s all I want to know, Robert,” Pierce pleaded with his director, his eyes red and puffy from his lack of sleep.

“Honestly, Pierce. If I knew, I’d tell you. But we don’t even know. There’s military officials swarming the sight. They’re still tearing away debris, uncovering bodies. We just don’t know identities yet. Some of the bodies are burned beyond recognition. Only dental records will tell us more.”

Pierce’s legs gave out and before he knew it he was on the floor hyperventilating.

3 weeks later …

Pierce was standing on the short wood pier, starring out at the Rappahannock Lake. There was a couple a few houses down, standing on their own boat ramp – which was several hundred feet away. They waved at him and he lazily threw his hand up. He was weak and tired. He’d barely eaten, barely slept. Whenever he did, he saw Hawk’s face, felt his touch as if he was right there with him. Pierce shivered as the evening skies brought a gust of wind toward him off the lake.

God, it was peaceful here. But Pierce couldn’t enjoy the serenity. Hawk’s handsome face, his golden eyes, flashed across Pierce’s mind again and it made him double over in pain. Tears fell down his face into the water. He’d thought earlier this week he had no more tears left to cry, but obviously he’d been wrong. Damn, he ached all over. He was punishing himself. Waiting on a ghost was ridiculous. His rational mind was trying to get him to accept reality. If Hawk was alive, he definitely would’ve at least called him by now. Told him he was okay, that he’d see him soon. But still no one had heard anything. Pierce bounced from sad to angry then to livid. How could a governmental agency do this to the loved ones? They needed closure… needed to mourn if a family member or significant other was dead. Leaving them in limbo was a torture like none other. 

He’d called Fox – who was a mess, to say the least. The man scoured databases day and night, looking for Shot, looking for all of them. But when he spoke to Fox two days ago, it sounded like he’d accepted defeat. He’d listened to Fox sob quietly on the phone for thirty minutes before the line went dead. He wanted to go to him, console him, but he himself was inconsolable. At least Fox had his best friend.

Shot’s son Angel was still in fairly decent spirits. He’d called Pierce and told him that sometimes his dad and his uncles went underground for months after missions. Told him that he wouldn’t hear from his father for weeks at a time. But the Beastmasters weren’t active duty. This wasn’t a covert military operation they’d done. There wasn’t a need to go underground.

Pierce turned to go back to the house. Maybe he’d go into town tonight and walk around. He’d said that for the last two weeks, but still hadn’t left the house. Pierce climbed the stairs to the large porch and spun around fast when he heard a car coming up the gravel driveway. He sprinted off the porch with more energy than he should’ve been able to summon, squinting to see through the dark tint of the driver’s windshield.

Tears began to well in his eyes when the passenger who got out ran to meet him.

He was embraced in a tight hug by strong arms and he sank into it. Desperately needing the contact. “Hey. Shhhh. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Max. You didn’t have to come all the way here.” Pierce looked at his best friend. He hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back in as Backhander. Pierce wiped his eyes and tried to put a smile on his face. “Gosh. Marriage looks good on you.”

“I might’ve had something to do with that.” Angel’s deep voice reached him, and Pierce gasped at how much Angel looked like his father.

Angel hugged him tight and let Pierce stroke his long braid.

“He’s okay.”

Pierce jerked back holding Angel at arm’s length. “You spoke to him!”

“No. Calm down, Pierce.” Pierce dropped his arms, running his hands through his own too-long hair.

“So you haven’t heard from any of them either.” Pierce turned to walk back toward his house. Every corner he turned led him to another dead end.

Angel jogged up to him. “Hey. With regards to the Beastmasters. No news is good news. If my father was dead, the military would’ve sent Marines to my house to notify me by now.”

Pierce shook his head sadly. “Well I guess that’s something. Come on in, guys. I have to apologize for the mess.”

“No worries.” Max draped his arm around him and walked up the porch stairs. “Man. This is a nice place, Pierce.”

“Yeah. I grew up here. Just me and my folks.”

“It’s real nice,” Angel added.

“Babe. Why don’t you put on some coffee? See what Pierce has around to eat,” Max said to his husband while leading Pierce into the family room.

“I know what you’re doing Max.” Pierce flopped down on the leather sofa, Max taking up the cushion beside him.

“You should. You’re the genius.” Max flashed him a broad smile. But Pierce couldn’t return the gesture.

He looked into Max’s grey eyes and saw the compassion, saw the empathy. God Max was a beautiful man. Angel had taken one look at him and he was in love. Pierce saw every second of their union unfold, watched it grow before his very eyes. It was amazing, so wonderful to watch two people fall in love. Even when Angel was kidnapped by a drug lord. Pierce raced to Max’s side to help him get him back. Backhander had planned the whole thing. He knew Max felt indebted to him. But Pierce was just happy they got their happily ever after.

Great! The goddamn tears were welling up again. He was so sick of crying he didn’t know what to do. “Fuck. These fuckin’ tears won’t stop,” Pierce growled, angrily wiping at his sore eyes. But they wouldn’t stop falling.

“It’s okay to cry Pierce. It’s good to let it out. Yell. Scream. Pound something,” Max encouraged him.

“I don’t want to, Max.” Pierce dropped his head into his hands, his body jerking from the harsh sobs. “I just... I… I just didn’t think… I’d miss him… this damn much. All those fuckin’ times… I pushed him… pushed him away. Time I can’t get back, Max. Time… time I wasted.”

Pierce cried uncontrollably and Max pulled him into his chest. Let him soak his nice shirt. Just whispered soft words and rubbed his back until Pierce fell asleep.