Devastate (Havoc Series Stand Alone Book 5)

by Neal, Xavier

  “That's rude in the house,” I explain. “And at the table.”

  On our approach to the stairs, Jazz questions, “So the entire family is coming?”

  “The immediate family. Yes.”

  “Your parents and your two brothers who’re still here.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your brother and his wife who recently built a house, if you wanna call that three story thing a house, as well?”

  “How do you know that?”

  She gives me a sarcastic look.

  “Right. My file. Magical pages and pages of information about everyone. So if you know all that, that means you know all about the tragedy that's coming to dinner.”

  “Facts and figures, but you know me. I prefer personal observations as much as what's documented. All sides of the equation.”

  “Thorough.”

  “Accurate.” She glances up at me. “Reading about people on paper is similar to reading about characters in a novel. You can use the information to predict plot twists and choices, but in reality, to get a precise prediction, it's best to have actual experience with the subject. Take your grandparents for instance. Reading about them and then meeting them in real life...there are major differences to say the least.”

  “Did you feel the same way about meeting us?”

  “No,” Jazz quickly denies. “You boys were everything I expected. At times even a little more. It was exciting at times and relieving at others.”

  “A compliment?” I tease as we round the corner towards the dining area. “That's like seeing a golden tiger.” When her eyebrows rise, I finish, “Rare.”

  “Dramatic,” she mumbles.

  Upon entering the dining room, we see Pa at the head of the long wooden table, where extra seats have been added for the larger, expected party. Leaned back with a glass of whiskey in his hand, I can't help but admire the relaxed yet wistful look on his face. What was already about to be a long dinner, just got longer.

  I pull out Jazz's chair beside me at the same time she greets him, “Good evening Pa.”

  “Suga'.” He tips his drink to her. Turning his attention to me as I sit he asks, “You not drinkin' Rascal?”

  “No sir,” I insist folding my hands on the table.

  “Don't drink anymore?”

  “He drinks,” Jazz sells me out with a smirk. “Usually beer. In his defense, it's typically not the cheap crap.”

  “Beer?” Pa scrunches his face in disapproval. “You used to be a whiskey man. You were raised to be a whiskey man.”

  “Can't be a whiskey man and a good Marine sir.”

  “My Rascal, a Marine,” he whistles out. “Not the words I thought I'd say.”

  Sensing disappointment I clear my throat and look down at my hands. “Not words I'm sure you enjoy saying.”

  “Give it a rest Rascal,” Pa grumps. “You assume I'm upset because you didn't wanna be in the business--”

  “I never said--”

  “You never had too.” His voice snaps. “Never needed too.”

  “Does Ma need any help in the kitchen?” Jazz offers, her hope of dialing back the rising tension obvious.

  “Not if you wanna keep both your hands,” my reply makes her smile wide.

  “So all the Lord brothers are coming?” She asks already knowing the answer. The innocent act isn't normal, but then again, most of the time she's in control of the situations she willingly puts herself in.

  “Yes.” Pa nods. “My only son Jonathan with all three of my other grandsons.”

  “Joseph, Joshua, and Johnson?”

  “Rascal's talked about his brothers?” Pa's suspicious look forces me to shoot Jazz a look.

  “A little.” She leans her face on her hand. “Not much.”

  “Not surprised.” He lifts the glass.

  “What do you expect me to say about 'em Pa? We're not...close. Never have been.” Under my breath I immediately mumble, “Never will be.”

  “Like my eyes, my ears still work just fine, Rascal.” After a sip he pins with me a look. “Never said I blamed you for not bringing them up, did I?”

  Jazz leans around me before I can decide on a comeback. “Can you give me a quick head's up about them?”

  The change in direction forces my foot to gently touch her leg in thanks. She shoots me a quick subtle wink. I'm used to her on my side, after all, against Shepard, she almost always lands in our court, but this situation is different. Her on my side brings a small tranquility to my soul. Reminds me of the numerous times, Pa and Ma, would stand up for me in tough situations.

  “Well.” Pa sucks his teeth. “Johnson, or Jon, as he wants us to call him, is the youngest and the reason Sheriff Barnes has my number on speed dial.”

  She lets out a little giggle and I stretch my arm around the back of her chair, relaxing into my seat. “Nothin' like getting a phone call at 2 a.m. because my grandson spray painted the phrase 'Suck my' and then a picture of what supposed to be a rooster, but looked more like a cow with wings.”

  Jazz erupts in laughter. My body can't help it's response of wanting to be closer. To feel the vibrations leave her and leak into me. I adjust in my chair again.

  “Not to mention, Johnson stole a tractor one year because he insisted it would be a more efficient way to trick or treat.”

  Her giggles continue and Pa shrugs. “Boy had a point, much like he always does, but it wasn't all the way thought out, which brings me to Joshua who now insists he's only called Joshua.”

  “Stubborn,” I whisper.

  “Runs in the bloodline,” he chuckles. “Joshua, is going to school to be a lawyer. It'll be nice to have someone in the family who can handle legal aspects. It'll be a nice change. Not that I have anything against our family lawyers. They're golden. Just like the idea of a Lord in that department in the company too. Anyway, Joshua's a little on the quiet side. Boy, didn't just speak a first word. He waited until he could speak an entire sentence. He's an over thinker.”

  “Which brings us to my other brother. Jo. Father's pride and joy,” the bitter tone in my voice shows. Instantly, I try to clear it away.

  “As you can tell Rascal isn't the biggest fan of Jo.”

  Biggest fan? Understatement of the decade. Jo is the son my father wanted. Raised in the business. Groomed to perfection to be a miniaturized version of him from looks to speech to taste in women, which says more about my mother than I am comfortable with. The man has never missed a moment to let me forget it.

  “Jo is followin' in Jonny's footsteps. Learning the family business so he can take over one day. Jo was once a good kid, but he's always been more naive than healthy with a sick need to please the wrong people.” My eyes cut to Pa. “Oh don't look at me like that, Rascal. You've met that woman he married.”

  More than met. I had her first. In all the ways I'm sure she's lied and told him he was the only one. Took me much too long to realize she told me the same lies.

  “We're here!” My father's voice echoes in the house tensing me in my chair.

  Jazz's eyes immediately cut to me in observation. I'm typically laid back. It's my natural state, much like Pa's, but my family...the people I'm related to, have this way of twisting me tight enough I could shit diamonds.

  The minute my father enters the room his mouth drops open, but he doesn't say anything. His blue eyes that I didn't inherent, unlike the rest of my brothers, widen as it looks like he stumbles to get air back in his lungs.

  “Jonny did you--” my mother's voice shuts off. Her mouth screws tight. Her small framed body freezes beside his.

  I haven't seen them or spoken to them in almost four years. You would think they would be slightly pleased or relieved to know I'm alive. To know that I wasn't killed in the line of duty. To know that they don't have to bury me. Yet the look on their faces says the complete opposite. Disappointment I'm still whole. Shame I'm sitting at the table. Regret not only that I was born, but that my heart is still beating. Best welcome home ever.
/>
  “Greet your boy,” Pa commands sternly.

  “Rascal.” My father clears his throat, strolling to the opposite side of the table next to Pa, pulling out my mother's chair, which is opposite from Jazz's.

  “Father.” I reply with a nod.

  My mother continues to stare at me mutely. Our eyes latch onto one another and there's a swirl of hatred in them I don't miss. Specs of disgust in them just for breathing. Looking into the eyes of the woman who gave birth to you and seeing how much she loathes the choice she made to have you, it not only starts to weigh on your shoulders and conscious, but also makes it that much harder to look into the eyes of any woman and wonder if she secretly despises your presence just as much. One of the few benefits from letting women hop in and out of your bed for just a couple nights. You don't really have time to let those thoughts plant themselves and grow. Also, you don't have to spend much time looking into their eyes since they're typical squeezed tight in pleasure.

  “Greet your son Mary Ellen,” Pa demands.

  As instructed she speaks, “Hello.”

  “Mother.”

  Her teeth grit at me the same way they always do when I call her that. Not sure I can continue in this environment, I prepare to scoot my chair back when Jazz's hand lands on my thigh. The unexpected touch glues me back to my seat.

  Rolling my head to face her, she offers me a crooked smirk. Supportive yet solid. One that lets me know Jazz isn't going to let anything happen to me. I'm one of her boys. Her job may be to analyze and predict, but it's also to keep us safe. From outside threats. From The Director. From each other. She's risked her career at times for us and there's nothing we wouldn't risk for her in return. If only she knew I'd fall on a sword for her without orders. Not just because we're teammates, but because...well...that's what you do for the woman you've started to fall in love with.

  “That's nice that that's never changing,” Pa mumbles as Ma starts bringing food in from the kitchen.

  “Evening Ma,” my father greets her with a smile.

  “Jonny,” she hums.

  “Need help?” I look up at her, desperate to have a reason to have some breathing room.

  “Not this time, Rascal.” She pats my shoulder. “Sit tight.”

  Slinking into my chair, I try to relax. When I was younger she used to let me sneak away from the table to help carry things in. It would buy me enough time away from the ridicule I could barely hide from.

  “Do you ever shower?” Joshua's voice floods the house. “You smell like sweat and...what is that? Apple Cider?”

  Johnson's laugh puts me on edge once more knowing as soon as they get the sight of me, all joy will die. Always has. Always will.

  The two of them enter the room and dread appears on their face. Yup. Everyone hates Jody.

  “Rascal...” Joshua slides a hand in his pocket. “You're...”

  “Alive,” Johnson, croaks out. “Holy shit!”

  “Johnson, don't make me get the soap!” Ma yells from the other room.

  “That'd be twice this week,” he laughs and flops down on the other side of Jazz. Glancing at him, I sigh at how much they all look similar with just the slightest differences while I stick out strikingly. A room full of men who look like Thor in various sizes and ages, golden God like auras around them, with me dark and brooding like a baby faced Superman with a gray cloud hovering above me. Different universes. Different types of heroes. Facing different types of villains, never intended to cross paths.

  His tone shifts to a romantic one, “And who...are...you...”

  Protectively I lean around her. “Not. For. You.”

  “Rascal, never did like to share,” Johnson gripes.

  Joshua sits beside him. “Shut up. Neither do you.”

  “This generation of Lord's are not the sharing kind,” Pa explains to Jazz who hasn't said a word yet.

  “Oh and you are?” My father shoots him a dirty look. “Last time I checked, there were a couple bottles of whiskey in the cellar that--”

  “Hush your mouth,” he demands taking another swig. “Where's the last boy?”

  “He left the office a little later than expected today,” my father continues while my eyes drift to my mother's, which are lowered to such a scowl. I can feel tears clogging my throat. Fuck. I'm a grown ass man. This shit shouldn't be so difficult to deal with. Especially after all the years of it. It just shouldn't have this effect on me. I'm not four any more. It shouldn't matter she doesn't approve of me.

  “I told you all to be on time,” Pa huffs.

  “I know Pa. But the company can't run itself--”

  “Don't even start Jonny. I still run the company. If I can make it home by dinner than so can he.”

  “I'm only a couple minutes late Pa,” Jo states in an amused voice. Our attention turns to where he has walked in with his arm draped around the nightmare he married. The nightmare that I once called my dream. “Can I get a break?”

  “In your left knee or your right?” Pa grouses. “I'm starvin'.”

  “You're always starvin' Pa,” Jo chuckles and seconds later his eyes fall onto me. An arctic expression spreads on his face. “What the hell are you doing here? This is a family dinner.”

  “Be nice to Jody...” Mary Beth defends me with a condescending smirk. “You know how sensitive he is.”

  “Jo and Mary Beth mind your peace and sit down.” Pa points. “Rascal, is a part of this family just as much as the two of you.”

  “Really?” Jo argues dropping down on the other side of our mother. “Because my family was at my wedding. Because my brothers were in it. Because my big brother would've been my best man like he was supposed to be!”

  Like I've always done, I simply bite my tongue. My face lowers in shame. Suddenly Jazz intertwines her fingers with mine. The sentiment gives me brief strength to stay in my seat, but not enough. If there was anywhere else in the fucking world we could hide, I'd toss our shit in the truck and drive us there, but no. Director's fucking orders. Director's fucking command to make me endure this hell on earth. If it was just my life Tyger was after, fucking fine, but it's not. I care about Jazz's safety more than I do about my soul they're sucking out of me already.

  “Oh put your toddler tantrum on hold,” Pa scolds.

  “Pa--”

  “Now Jo,” he warns before another small coughing fit starts. I open my mouth to question his well-being when he waves a hand at me not to bother asking.

  Mary Beth leans forward, tossing her bright blonde hair over her shoulder, manicured nails clinking the table. “And who exactly are you?”

  Defensively I start, “She's--”

  “A good friend who needs a break from the city,” Jazz answers.

  “Figures, he'd bring a friend home to face us,” Jo grumbles as Ma puts the last of the meal on the table. Swinging his own arm so it's wrapped around the back of her chair he snidely says, “Can't do anything on his own.”

  “Left on my own.”

  Pa chortles having another swig. “Good point.”

  “Don't encourage them,” my father snips under his breath.

  “I agree,” Ma fusses sitting down at the opposite end of the table from Pa. “Let's try to have a peaceful meal, shall we?” Our mouths shut and she sits up straight. “Now that that's settled. Let's bless the meal.”

  “You should let Rascal say it since he's missed the last million of 'em,” Johnson teases. “Probably doesn't even remember how to pray.”

  “Good idea Johnson. You can say blessing,” Ma instructs.

  “Damn it,” he grumbles.

  “I will get the spoon...”

  “Make sure you keep it close for dessert,” Pa says in a husky voice before wiggling his eyebrows at her.

  “Jody!”

  “Ugh...” Johnson groans.

  “Not needed,” Joshua agrees.

  Mary Beth coos, “I think it's cute.”

  “I think it's weird,” Johnson fights.

  “Can w
e just bless the goddamn meal?” my father gripes. “Now Johnson...”

  Linking up hands, we bow our heads as Johnson struggles to say something in a serious voice in the form of a prayer over our food. While I know I should be busy thanking God I have warm food to eat and a roof of some kind over my head, I find myself anxiously more desperate to curse him for sending me back here. Putting me in this position.

  After he's done, the meal starts in silence aside from the occasional asking to pass food. Eventually a conversation about the business tries to start but is quickly shut down by Ma, who has a rule about no business talk at the dinner table. Another conversation about the latest laws Johnson has broken starts, getting chuckles from my parents who find his troubled ways adorable. And they wonder why he continues them. Not lifting my eyes for the conversation I continue stabbing at the perfect mashed potatoes on my plate, mashed potatoes I have literally dreamt of having again. With no desire to eat them, but every craving not to lose Ma's approval, I force my mouth to have a nibble.

  “So,” Mary Beth's voice speaks up. “How did you two become friends?”

  Jazz looks up from her plate she's devouring. Surprisingly this is the most I've ever seen her eat. “We work together.”

  “You're a Marine?” Johnson nearly chokes. “I'm totally joining.”

  “How'd you know I became a Marine?”

  “Pa told us,” he confesses.

  “Not like you would've,” my father mumbles.

  “Not like you wanted to hear anything I had to say,” I mutter in return.

  “Does anyone in this family believe in speaking in an audible tone?” Pa smacks on a piece of a chicken, Ma scrunching in disapproval of his lack of manners.

  “I do.” Mary Beth raises a hand.

  “That you do...” He rolls his eyes. “Speaking at and never stopping.”

  “A Marine?” Joshua turns the conversation back the direction it was. “Rascal?” “What? Was it discount day in the military?” Jo pokes fun and the others start laughing. “I mean, it only took him his entire life to get that big right?”

  Jazz shoots me a look out of the corner of her eye. Butt of every joke. Tail end of every insult. Icing on the cake of my reality here.