by Laura Acton
Loki beamed as he piped up, “Do ya think Dantastic would mind if we all popped over tonight to say welcome back? I would call him to check, but his phone is still here.”
Bram released a soft sigh, understanding Boss and Jon would be eating crow this evening, and they didn’t need an audience to complicate matters. “Nah, give him until Monday. I’m sure Dan needs to run errands … laundry, grocery shopping, and such.”
Ray caught Loki’s pout. “Buddy, remember, we have plans tonight. We gotta finalize our vacation destination.”
Loki eagerly wanted to visit Dan but realized his teammate might need time to settle back into his apartment. “Yeah, as much as I want go over, you’re probably right about the laundry and stuff. Getting sand and lipstick out of clothes is difficult.”
At all the quizzical expressions, Loki enlightened them on his theory. “He most likely chose to recuperate on a beach somewhere, sipping margaritas with a bunch of babes. I mean, he is Dantastic after all.”
Ray chuckled but shook his head. “Beach and babes, but alcohol will be off his menu for a while with the injury to his liver.”
As the guys chuckled and bantered around for some time where Dan might’ve convalesced, and Loki speculated about what kinds of women would attract Dan’s attention, Kinsey listened but remained quiet. Dan’s type is likely any woman who is eighteen and possesses a pulse. His rugged features make most bimbos fawn all over him. Dan seems to me like a soulless one-night-stand kind of guy … a player and womanizer.
Dan’s Apartment – 4:30 p.m.
Exhausted, having been up for over eighteen hours, unable to sleep on the long flight due to intense fury engulfing him after his farewell to his father on the tarmac, Dan entered his apartment and strode directly to his bedroom. He tossed his bag and a medium-sized, black lockbox on the bed. His emotions on a rollercoaster, Dan stared at the damned thing, and his rage reignited.
Prying his eyes away, Dan undid the top buttons on his long-sleeved, light gray shirt as he moved to the bedroom window. Pulling the blackout shade down, casting his room in a dim bluish hue, Dan realized his blind didn’t make the room pitch-black like Lexa’s. He blew out a long breath as memories of the woman who captured his heart, the one he lost, invaded his mind.
Needing a nap in the worst way, hoping to escape from his anguish for even a little while, Dan turned to view his king-sized bed. Huge mistake … images of Lexa lying snuggled in his arms assaulted him. He squeezed his eyes shut to stop the visage and his breath hitched. My life is so fucked up. How can I be only her friend when I want so much more?
Overwhelmed by all his emotional baggage, Dan sank into a crouch. On the balls of his booted feet, his lower back supported against the wall, he hunched over, placed his elbows on his thighs, raked fingers of both hands into his hair, and rested his forehead in his palms. Chaotic thoughts ping-ponged around in his brain, causing hot tears to well then slip out as he softly cried.
Why? Dammit, why? Everything was going so well. But I had to go and screw things up with a single kiss. Now I lost my beauty, and my position on the team is up in the air … as is my relationship with Boss, Jon, and the rest of the guys. And now, the general went and ruined things too. Can’t anything go right? My life will never be my own … my fucking exit contract is biting me in the ass.
Brody hovered near Danny … his eyes a dark shade of jade … verging on black. He tried, oh he honestly tried hard not to be furious, but he was failing miserably. He wanted to comfort Dan, but in his state, Brody couldn’t form the right words. Danny needs to move forward, not take a step back. Dan’s father needs to realize … to truly understand … being in the military will jeopardize Danny’s soul.
Recognizing he wouldn’t be of any use to Danny in his current mindset and with his charge safely home, Brody decided to replenish his ethereal energy. He must be on-point for Danny’s meeting with Nick and Jon. Before fading, Brody whispered, “I’ll be back soon. Try to nap, Danny. Things will work out.”
Cried dry … no tears left, Dan lifted his head to peer at the lockbox again, and clenched his fists in anger. In a fluid motion he rose, and strode into his bathroom. After pushing his rolled-cuff sleeves up, he turned on the faucet to splash water on this face, and allowed it to drip as he gazed at his reflection.
Weary, red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes stared back at him. “You gotta man up, Broderick. You can’t show your broken heart, insecurities, and weaknesses. Stiffen your backbone, thicken your hide, and bluff your way through because tonight is bound to be another round of flaying.”
Easier said than fucking done. Nothing is ever easy in my life. Not willing to give in … his fight reflex honed by a lifetime of adversity, Dan snatched a towel off the bar to dry his face. I’ve gotten through worse. All I need to do is control my emotions and plow through.
Recognizing sleep would be plagued with nightmares and images of Lexa which would screw with his head, Dan rehung the towel before exiting the bathroom. He dealt with his clothing, hanging up and putting away the clean, and tossing the dirty into his hamper. He considered doing laundry, but Sexy Lexie’s ghost haunted that room as much as his place and the elevator.
He grabbed the damned black box and headed to his main room. Halting at the coffee table, intending to put it down, his gaze settled on the pink slippers he bought Lexa. He fought the hot prickle of new tears and the urge to pick them up to clutch them to his heart. Instead, he seized the footwear, went to his trash can, and threw them in. Half-tempted to toss the fucking box too, he used restraint and placed it on the counter.
Wanting a beer, but knowing he shouldn’t drink yet, Dan opened his fridge to grab a soda. The corpse-like stench from all the rotted food assaulted his olfactory senses and became the icing on top of his shit cake. After retrieving cleaning supplies, it took him twenty minutes to muck out and sanitize the fridge. He threw the used paper towels in with the spoiled food before sealing the reeking bag.
As Dan turned to go to the communal trash chute to dump the bag, his eyes landed on the metal lockbox again. Damn the general to Hell! He can’t ever only be my dad … he screwed me with that shitty early exit contract. I’ll never be free of the military. He’ll find some convenient reason to reactivate me again.
Shaking his head to dislodge the negative thoughts, he grabbed his bike lock keys from the hook. A long ride on the trails will do more to clear my black mood and prepare for the meeting with Boss and Jon than a nap.
Encroaching Darkness
59
June 26
Bike Trail – 6:05 p.m.
Coasting down a steep section of the trail, Dan took a breather from his fast-paced ride. Physical exertion and wind in his face, albeit warm, helped calm and re-center his mind. Once he reached the bottom of the hill, Dan halted, pulling off to the side to drink a bit of water. While uncapping his bottle, a rustling to his left caused him to glance over … hoping not to find a raccoon or any other potentially rabid critter.
The muted crying alerted him to the fact it was no animal. Leaning his bike against a tree, Dan cautiously moved towards the sound. He stopped, not crowding the teen he found sitting in a little clearing. Crouching to the youth’s level to appear non-threatening, Dan asked, “Hey, are you alright?”
Clayton’s head whipped up. Having not heard anyone approach, he wiped at teary eyes as he scooted backward, fearful of the man.
“Whoa, not gonna hurt you,” Dan pitched his voice soft. He held out his water bottle. “Want some?”
Wrapping a protective arm around his aching chest, Clayton shook his head.
Dan noted the bruises and abrasions on the young male’s face. “Looks like you might need a bit of help.”
“No, leave me alone,” Clayton’s voice quivered.
“My name’s Dan Broderick. I’m a constable. I would like to help. Can you tell me your name?”
Clayton scuttled further away as fear lit his eyes. “No. Go away.”
Unsure how to
proceed, it was daylight, there was no current threat, and he couldn’t force the teenager to accept his help, Dan wondered what to do. He reached for his wallet as he said, “I’m gonna leave the water and my card. If you want to talk or need help, you call me.”
After retrieving a card and tucking his billfold in his back pocket, he set the courtesy card with his name and TRF’s phone number underneath the plastic bottle before standing. “The best part of my job is helping those who need …” Dan trailed off as the teen stared at him with a full measure of distrust.
Dan’s heart lurched. This must be what I looked like the night I arrived at Bella’s after running away. Though desiring to do more, he backed away. Before allowing the foliage to drop down, which effectively hid the kid, Dan tried once more, “You sure I can’t help? Perhaps take you somewhere you feel safe?”
Clayton grabbed the bottle then bolted in the opposite direction of the officer. Trusting cops was the last thing he would do.
Dan sighed, got on his bike and pedaled away. Shit, I can’t even find the right words to help a kid in need. Maybe I don’t belong with TRF after all.
Dan’s Apartment – 7:15 p.m.
Hot water cascaded down Dan’s back, easing tired muscles as he contemplated the scared teen and possible reasons he was hiding in the woods with a battered face. He came up with many scenarios, accident, bullies, abusive parent, gang initiation, … none of which sat well with him. Wishing he had done more, Dan recalled the fear which surfaced in the youth’s demeanor when he identified himself as a cop. It led him to believe the young man may well be involved in something over his head and in dire need of assistance.
Blowing out a tired breath, realizing he must hurry up to arrive at Boss’ home on time, Dan quickly washed and shut off the tap. He decided not to bother shaving but brushed his teeth and towel dried his hair before running a comb through it to manage the longer than usual mop. If things go well tonight, I should trim it before Monday … if not, I’ll be searching for a new job, and a haircut will be the least of my worries.
Exiting his bedroom after dressing, he glanced at his hardly-eaten dinner. Although the Korean BBQ take-out was tasty, he didn’t possess much of an appetite after arriving home. He picked up the carton to put in his fridge. It would be breakfast tomorrow since he put off doing grocery shopping for now … something he could take care of later.
With a few minutes to spare before the taxi would arrive, he intended to relax in his comfy chair. Turning, his gaze landed on the black box again. He avoided opening it in Wilson’s presence since his father indicated the contents were confidential, but he was curious what it contained. Snagging it off the counter, he took it with him and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.
Anger he believed he locked away during his long ride flared again. Right after he bid Blaze goodbye and promised to visit him and Winds in Ottawa the next time they were in country, his father sucked the joy from his day.
The general’s words on the tarmac came flooding back. “Per your exit contract, this must be in your possession. The items within the lockbox will facilitate communication should you reconsider my offer and choose to reactivate voluntarily or you’re involuntarily recalled for a special assignment again. You must create and memorize a nineteen-digit code now so I can authenticate this box has been transferred to your custody. It is imperative the articles inside be kept in the strictest confidence and within your control.”
With no choice, legally and honor bound by the contract he signed, Dan completed the process to activate and transfer the triple locking mechanism, after which, the general presented the box and two keys to him. Taking them, Dan stormed up the steps of the plane without saying another word. My father will never comprehend … I can never willingly rejoin the service.
Nothing in the world, short of Brody’s resurrection, which was not possible, would ever persuade him to wear the tan uniform again. His ability to serve in the military died the day he killed Brody, and his mind would never be changed … not even if it meant the possibility of having Lexa in his life.
Dan inserted the small key, giving it a quarter turn, which activated the fingerprint scanner. He placed his thumb over it and waited for the yellow light then typed in 3825634355587837693 which was the numeric equivalent of FuckMeHellJustFroze … a code he would never forget. When the green light flashed, he rotated the key again, until a clicking sound indicated the lock released. He lifted the lid and stared at the contents.
Removing the objects one by one, he set them on his table. A Heckler & Koch USP semi-automatic pistol with two extra magazines, a box of ammo, a military ID with a current photo of him, a Special Forces encrypted phone with a charger, and a codebook. The message … loud, clear, and all too real … he could be recalled at any time.
After replacing the items, he slammed the cover and pulled out the tiny key. As much as Dan wanted to mend the relationship with his dad, he didn’t know if it was possible. This box widened the chasm between them rather than narrowing it. We will never be on the same page regarding where I belong. Blowing out a frustrated, stressed breath he stood.
Dan checked the time, noting he needed to head downstairs to meet the cab since he decided not to drive. Having been awake for over twenty-one hours now and by the time he left Boss’ home, … well, it would likely be several more hours, driving wouldn’t be the safest activity.
Yawning, Dan grabbed the lockbox to store the damned thing in his bottom dresser drawer until he determined the best place to keep it. Exiting his apartment, Dan’s mind shifted to what he faced tonight. With so many relationships to repair, I need to prioritize. The members of Alpha Team, including Lexa, are my primary focus, and my father is secondary.
Taxi En Route to Nick’s Place – 7:45 p.m.
A malevolent smile formed on Samael’s face as he viewed Hamon’s descendant. “His soul will be mine soon.” He spread his twelve black wings as his red eyes focused on his most devoted minion. “Do what you do best. Remain cloaked if his angel appears.”
“Yes, Master,” Bernael said before Samael faded. Seeking favor with Samael, Bernael, a fallen angel lured to evil, labored to blacken Daniel’s soul ever since the blond, blue-eyed child could crawl. He successfully lured the toddler up on cabinets, but Hamon appeared and intervened keeping golden boy safe until his parent’s located him.
Through the years Bernael orchestrated many terrible events in Dan’s life. His ability to remain invisible to guardian angels, the mighty and ancient Hamon included, allowed him to manipulate many earth-bound souls. Some of the more effective ones included Todd Morin, Gerard Dupont, Brogan Snow, Bruce Nealy, Blake Murphy, Nurse Miseria, Panin Savelievich, and Richard Donner. Each of them listened attentively to him and caused much pain, both physical and psychological for Dan.
His two most fruitful endeavors came by using Major Plouffe and Rifat Qasim. If he picked a favorite, it would be Qasim, or as Dan referred to him, ‘The One.’ Qasim was quite receptive to his influence and succeeded where others failed … he invaded Dan’s soul … broke him by playing on every insecurity Dan possessed. Qasim’s use of super-heated needles plunged into Dan’s abdomen was a delightful touch, resulting in a deep-seated fear which worked to Bernael’s advantage many times over the past six years.
Typically, Dan tuned out his whispers, which is why he worked through others, but in his exhausted state and neither Brody nor Hamon around to counter him, Bernael believed his murmurings would stir up unrest, anxiety, and a massive dose of doubt, which would work in his favor tonight.
Leaning in close, Bernael began his monolog, “You are worthless and will always be alone. Those you trusted as friends aren’t. You’re not worthy of friendship. You don’t deserve to be loved, and everyone will abandon you once again.”
Unsettling thoughts crept in destroying the calm Dan achieved while riding earlier. He leaned back on the seat, shut his eyes, and breathed slow, desperately trying to stave off fatigue and the encroa
ching darkness.
Outside Nick’s Home – 7:55 p.m.
An emotional storm started on the trip over, growing exponentially the closer he came to his destination. Though contrary to his goal to smooth things over and return to the team, Dan exited the taxi with doubt, resentment, bitterness, anxiety, and a whole host of other emotions swamping him.
Hit full force by all his insecurities, Dan paid the driver, shoved his wallet into his back pocket, then turned to face the walkway to Boss’ house. Cemented in place at the curb by a looming fear of being hurt and rejected again, Dan only stared at the brown door.
Rational thought began slipping away as he warred with his fight or flight reflex. Though unlike him to choose flight the desire to run and hide, to escape the pain waiting for him if he dared enter the wolf’s lair reared its head, and he almost called out to flag down the cab as it drove off.
Bernael continued his onslaught of whispers, his tawny eyes dancing with delight at the fact neither Brody nor Hamon materialized to thwart the effect of the vileness of his words. The demon could almost taste the rage and fear in Dan as the shadows inched closer to the protector’s soul.
Victory appeared within Bernael’s grasp … decades of work would garner him untold rewards from Samael. “Remove your blinders and rose-colored glasses. Only rejection and more pain await you inside. They don’t want you … never did. Remember how they treated you when you joined and how Jon yells at you every chance he gets. Now he has reason to be rid of you, and he will ensure you are kicked off the force. You will be all alone again.”
Spinning in a whirlpool of indecision, Dan lost the ability to keep the lockbox in the dark recess of his mind closed. It burst open allowing perceived failures, self-loathing, horrors he witnessed, all his guilt, fears, sorrows, and every injustice he endured the freedom to assault him. Overloaded, his defense mechanisms began locking and loading as he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, preparing to throw in the towel, accept he would be forever alone, and to walk away from everyone and everything.