Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2

by Cherise Sinclair

  The door opened, and a man appeared, pulling on a jacket. Using the door to balance, he lowered himself carefully onto the small metal step and down.

  “What the hell?” Caz muttered under his breath. He put Regan’s hand into JJ’s and hurried forward. “Hawk. How badly are you hurt?”

  “Fucking-A, don’t shit your pants. I’m fine.” The man’s voice was rougher than a truck load of gravel.

  “Don’t bullshit me, ’mano.” The doc blocked Hawk’s path. “Where?”

  “Sliced-up leg, couple busted ribs—all on the left.”

  “Sucks to be you.” Gabe joined the men. “It’ll hurt, but can you get your arms over our shoulders?”

  Hawk didn’t answer, just complied. The glaring floodlights showed how his face tightened with pain.

  Caz glanced at JJ and Regan. “Can you two get coffee and soup started at Mako’s?”

  Hawk shook his head. “My place—”

  “Your place will take time to warm up. You’ll sleep downstairs at Mako’s tonight,” Gabe said.

  Hawk shot him a glare, but nodded.

  JJ almost smiled. Caz had mentioned that Gabe had been the boss of the boys in foster care—and ever since.

  “C’mon, Regan,” JJ said. “Let’s go cook.”

  As she guided Regan through the snow, she heard Hawk’s low growl. “A female and a kid? Here? What the fuck?”

  JJ set her jaw. He didn’t have to like her, but he’d better be nice to Regan.

  By the time she heard them enter the garage, JJ had a can of beef and barley soup simmering on the stove, coffee poured—and had given Regan a mug of hot chocolate.

  Murmurs and low swearing drifted down the hallway. It appeared Hawk needed help getting his snow-covered boots off, and he wasn’t appreciative. At all.

  A glimmer of sympathy ran through her. She felt the same way about accepting help, especially if she was tired and hurting.

  Being in pain, the guy didn’t need strangers around. She’d serve their coffee and head up to her rooms or take Regan to Caz’s.

  She looked over to see the men help Hawk into the living area.

  “Regan, can you take this in and put it on the coffee table, please?” She handed the girl a tray with the dishes, silverware, and coffee fixings.

  JJ followed with the pot of soup and the coffee pot. “Here you go, guys.”

  Face dead white, Hawk was leaning back on the sectional, legs stretched out in front of him. In vivid contrast to Caz’s dark coloring and sharply chiseled, clean-shaven gorgeousness, this man had sandy-colored hair, steel-blue eyes, and a short beard. His tanned fair skin was marred by a white scar that ran across his forehead, and a thicker one down his left cheek. Rather than Caz’s rippling panther-like musculature, Hawk was bulky with muscle.

  He wasn’t as nice as Caz either. When he looked at JJ and Regan, the blast of animosity was palpable.

  Well.

  Regan shouldn’t be subjected to the jerk. “Caz, I’m going to take Regan back to your cabin. It’s a school night.”

  After glancing between his brother and his daughter, the doc’s mouth tightened. “That would be helpful, mi princesa. Thank you.”

  He curled his arm around Regan. “Mija, can you go with JJ and let her help you get ready for bed?”

  Regan bit her lip, looked at Hawk, and went up on tiptoe to whisper in Caz’s ear, “Is he really my uncle?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A prerequisite to empathy is simply paying attention to the person in pain. ~ Daniel Goleman

  * * *

  It was the day before Thanksgiving. Starting tomorrow, Regan would have four days without school. No school. How chill was that!

  She stuffed the last bite of breakfast into her mouth, grabbed the pretty scrunchies that Miss Lillian had given her, and ran outside. JJ’s cabin was next door; she didn’t need a jacket for that.

  Although, friggers, the cold was major. She grinned as she dashed across Mako’s deck. Friggers was her new word since Mrs. Wilner and Papá didn’t like her saying fuck.

  She trotted into the house, through the humongous room, headed for the stairs, and stopped short. A guy was sleeping on the giant couch. He had a couple of blankets over him.

  It was the new uncle. Hawk. Chill name, but… She stared at him. Papá and her other two uncles were pretty hot. Women were always doing flirty stuff around them, especially around Uncle Bull. All touchy and everything.

  Girls might not go for this guy as much. His face was messed up—like scarred over his forehead and the side of his face. And he had a beard, only it wasn’t neat and perfect like Uncle Bull’s. It was ragged. He looked mean, and he had a ton of tattoos, all over his arms.

  His eyes opened.

  Frozen in place, she swallowed hard as he slowly sat up, never looking away from her.

  “Finished staring?” The nasty growly sound he made was like when Papá dragged Sirius out of the fish guts.

  She nodded.

  “Then get the hell out of here.”

  “She’s here to see me.” JJ was there, suddenly, and her arm around Regan was like the most wonderful thing in the world. “And I live upstairs.”

  JJ took Regan to the stairs and whispered, “Go on up, sweetie. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Heart pounding, Regan fled up the stairs and could hear JJ using her super-cold cop voice. “I don’t know what your damage is, but stop acting like an asshole. She’s only nine years old. Are you the only one of Mako’s sons who didn’t learn you’re supposed to protect the children?”

  Regan could feel her ears making a roaring sound, the kind that said she should run away and hide before a grownup got mean.

  Only what if he hurt JJ? He was really big. What if JJ needed help? Regan stood frozen in the center of JJ’s living room, stuck between actions, unable to move.

  When JJ walked in, Regan let out a squeak and ran over.

  “Hey, hey, hey, you’re okay, sweetheart.” JJ hugged her.

  Like a baby, Regan started to cry. “I thought he’d hit you.”

  * * *

  “I thought he’d hit you.” The high little voice from upstairs was far too clear. As was her crying.

  Leaning forward on the sectional, Hawk dropped his head into his hands. Fuck. Way to screw up, dumbass. He’d made Caz’s kid cry. Great start to coming home, buddy.

  Christ, he hurt. His leg felt as if a wolf was gnawing on it like a tasty bone, chomping from calf to thigh and back. With every move he made, his ribs exploded in agony.

  He had good reasons for being in a shit mood, dammit, and having the kid stare at him as if he was a horror-movie monster hadn’t helped.

  Guilt hunched his shoulders. How many excuses for his shit behavior could he make? The woman was right. Hell, he’d scared a little kid. Yeah, being looked at like a freak burned—always had—but didn’t mean he should be an asshole.

  The sarge would’ve tossed him into a snowbank.

  With a grunt of pain, Hawk managed to get to his feet. Gabe had told him to wait for help this morning, but fuck that. He’d take himself off to his cabin if it killed him.

  Everyone would be better off without seeing his face or enduring his bad temper.

  Early Wednesday evening in his living room, Caz took a sip of beer and swirled it around in his mouth, savoring the bite. He glanced over at Bull who sat in the big overstuffed chair. “This is for spring?”

  “Yeah.” Bull’d brought bottles from his brewery in Anchorage. It was a tradition for him to use his brothers as taste-testers. “The amount of hops seemed appropriate. I save the malt-heavy ones for fall or winter.”

  “I like it.” Drinking more, Caz moved his sock-clad feet toward the wood stove that radiated warmth. The chunk of firewood he’d added crackled loudly as it burned. “It’s better than the one you did last year. That one tasted like cat piss.”

  Bull gave a gut-busting laugh. “Thanks, bro. Unfortunately, my customers agreed. That one is h
istory.”

  Caz eyed his brother. “When I went by, Hawk didn’t even open the damn door. He said Gabe’d fed him, you changed his dressings, and he didn’t need anything-the-fuck-else.”

  Bull ran his hand over his shaved scalp—something he did when he was troubled. “Yeah, he’s in asshole-mode. He let me in long enough to help with the bandages and kicked me out.”

  Caz scowled. “Everything look all right?”

  “No signs of infection. I told him you’d see him tomorrow, like it or not.” Bull snorted. “He’s worse than a hibernating bear when he comes home wounded.”

  “Papá.” Followed by Sirius, Regan came out of her bedroom with several papers. The teacher had assigned the children to write about the snowstorm. “I’m all done.”

  “Homework, hmm?” Bull held out his hand. “Can I see?”

  Without a second thought, Regan gave him her work and leaned against his knee as he read.

  Caz smiled. The Bull could win over anyone and anything quicker than anyone Caz had met—even a wary little girl from a foster home.

  It was good to see her settling in, finding her place in the family.

  “Interesting. I like the way you broke down what you did right and what you’d do better next time. Sounds like the way the sarge debriefed our missions.” Bull ruffled her hair. “You’re as smart as your dad.”

  Regan beamed. “Are you going to eat supper with us, Uncle Bull? I can help cook.”

  “Sure, little bit. I’d like that. I’ll teach you to make chicken parmesan.” He glanced at Caz. “Anyone else coming? Hawk or JJ?”

  “Just you.” Caz half-grinned. “Guess we’re just not very popular.”

  Regan’s stricken expression wiped his smile away. “Mija?”

  “I’m sorry, sorry, sorry! It’s my fault.” Her eyes puddled with tears. “Hawk doesn’t like me an’ maybe JJ doesn’t anymore, too, cuz I messed up, and she was mad at him, and he might’ve hit her.”

  What the hell? Caz pulled Regan closer and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Who might have hit her?”

  “Mr. Hawk. Cuz I stared at him, and he told me to get the hell out of there, and JJ came down and got me and called him an asshole.”

  Hawk swore at Regan? Anger flaring like a wind-whipped bonfire, Caz bit back the curses he couldn’t say with his daughter there.

  “Regan, I—” Bull stopped and glanced at Caz for permission to step in.

  Just as well. Caz gave him a short nod, relieved that he had time to finish fighting his temper down. Wrapping his arms around Regan, he set her on his lap.

  Bull leaned forward. “Little bit, I’m sure JJ isn’t mad at you. She’s a cop, and keeping people in line is what they do, right?”

  “Oh.” Regan bit her lip. “I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  “As for Hawk. I know why you stared—all those scars and tats.” Bull shook his head. “Everybody stares, but it bothers Hawk.”

  Regan looked down at her lap. “I shouldn’t’ve stared.”

  And Hawk shouldn’t have sworn at her. But it might help if she understood him a little better. Caz gave her a comforting squeeze. “You know how you feel about always being the new girl?”

  Her mouth twisted unhappily. “Uh-huh.”

  “Kids stare at you, like you’re different and not one of them.” Caz knew the ugly feeling. It would probably bother Regan even more than it had him. “And you hate it, sí?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “Because you hate it, do you get grouchy with the kids who’re staring at you? Maybe get rude to them?”

  Her nod was reluctant. “Mr. Hawk got grumpy. Like I do.”

  His daughter had the courage to face the truth; she made him so proud.

  “Sí.”

  “He’s also hurting, Regan.” Bull set his forearms on his thighs.

  “Huh?”

  “His helicopter went down in a bad place, and his left leg got all ripped up, from here to here”—Bull ran his finger from his calf to above his knee—“and his ribs are broken. Whenever he moves, it probably feels like someone is punching him in the side.”

  Actually, as Caz knew from unhappy experience, the pain was more like someone shoving a knife between the bones. But close enough.

  Regan’s eyes were wide. “Is he gonna be okay?”

  “He’ll heal. But pain makes people cranky, and we all have things that set us off when we’re cranky.” Bull shook his head. “Or even when we’re not.”

  Caz winced. He had his own hot buttons. Like last summer when some damn Patriot Zealots had called him racist names and then shoved a woman. They might’ve pissed him off, but after the fight, he’d been in a fine mood.

  Not a story he’d share with his little warrior.

  “I guess I got things that make me mad.” Regan tugged on her hair and watched Bull carefully. “What are your things?” Her wary expression indicated she didn’t want to blunder into upsetting Bull the same way she had with Hawk.

  Regan had a wise soul.

  Bull came across as a friendly, approachable person, but that surface friendliness covered a very guarded interior. No one escaped being orphaned, living on the streets, or being in combat without some emotional damage.

  They had all suffered. Bull just hid his wounds better than his brothers did.

  “It’s a good question, mija.” Caz looked at Bull.

  * * *

  Well, hell. Bull barely kept himself from scowling…because Caz obviously wasn’t going to bail him out.

  Two pairs of brown eyes were focused on Bull.

  Biting back a quick, easy answer, he considered. His worried little niece wanted the truth—and Mako hadn’t raised them to take the easy route.

  He rolled the cold bottle of beer between his palms. He knew full well what shit riled him up. The good news was that Regan would never be the cause. The bad news was she’d undoubtedly see him behaving badly someday. At least if he answered her question, she’d know why.

  “I’m pretty even-tempered.” He ran a hand over his goatee and gave her a rueful smile. “But I do get angry sometimes. You know how they tell you kids that your body is your own, and strangers shouldn’t touch you? ”

  Regan nodded.

  It was excellent that children learned that these days. “Well, sometimes adults get over-friendly with other adults, and I don’t like being handled if I haven’t given someone permission.”

  The kid looked confused for only a second. “You mean those women who’re always grabbing you?”

  “Exactly.” He was fucking tired of it, in fact. Why a woman thought she could run her hands over him when she’d slap a guy for doing the same thing to her, he’d never know.

  When he’d been a young, horny SEAL, he’d mostly enjoyed being lusted after. For the first year or two. Then, not so much. Later, not at all. Especially after he’d heard a woman tell her friends, “I don’t care if he’s smart or stupid or anything. Just look at the guy. If his dick compares to the rest of him, I’m good.”

  Over the years, he’d heard variations on the same theme—and grown increasingly disgusted.

  His father’s girlfriend had said that kind of shit about his father. Had hung all over Dad until he’d given in. Had been the reason that the car…

  Mouth tight, Bull gave himself a shake to escape the waking nightmare.

  Regan watched him with an unhappy gaze. “Okay, Uncle Bull. I won’t touch you unless you say.”

  Dammit. Way to scare the baby. Bull huffed. “Little bit, you’re family. You have my permission anytime, anywhere.” He opened his arms.

  The smile and hug he got melted his heart.

  Before he could fall into a morass of sentiment, he straightened. “You know, if you go fetch us a couple of eggs, we could make a cake for dessert. Chocolate, right?”

  She gave a happy squeak. “Chocolate cake?”

  “Why not?” Bull averted his gaze from his brother’s annoyed stare. Health profession
als like Caz were all about salads and low-fat foods. Poor bastards.

  “Two eggs coming up.” Regan grabbed her coat and was out the door.

  Caz leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “You realize the smell of chocolate cake will probably drift over to Hawk’s deck.”

  “Yep.” As it happened, chocolate cake was Hawk’s favorite dessert. And even in the dead of winter, Hawk would sit outside and watch the stars or the northern lights. “Everything I said to Regan was true—but it doesn’t mean we’ll let him get away with being an asshole to a little girl.”

  “No. I intend to visit him later tonight. We will talk.” Caz’s mouth was set in a firm line, and Bull felt a touch of sympathy for Hawk. Unlike Gabe, Caz rarely lectured his brothers, but when the doc took one of them to task, he never lost.

  As Regan trotted across the deck, the fluffy cat appeared and did a whirlwind pounce on Regan’s boots before skittering away.

  At the infectious sound of little girl giggles, Bull grinned and then gave Caz a commiserative look. “She’s smart, charming, and sweet. Add in those eyes and that face, and guys will be flocking to her before she even hits her teens. Bro, you are so screwed.”

  “Dios, I know.”

  Bull rolled his beer between his palms and smiled slowly. “You realize any young man interested in her will run a gauntlet of uncles. Hell, even Hawk will be on board for that kind of fun.”

  And if any guy dared to mess with little Regan, Bull would rip the asshole apart like a ragdoll.

  Later that night, after Regan had gone to bed, Caz let himself out of the house and crossed to Hawk’s cabin. At the deck door, he could see his brother sitting on a dark leather armchair in front of his glass-fronted woodstove. No beer, no book, just staring into the flames.

  Pity slid through Caz, fraying his anger. He tapped on the sliding glass door, waited a second, and let himself in. No point in waiting for an invite that’d probably never come.