Devastate (Havoc Series Stand Alone Book 5)

by Neal, Xavier

  “That'd be her,” I reply. Turning my attention back to Pa I explain, “They're cool Pa. These are my teammates.” The two of them extends their hands to shake his. “The one who can't smile is known as Grim—”

  “Y'all really stretched for that one...”

  Working through a chuckle I finish, “And the one that looks like he's auditioning for a Luke Bryan concert is Glove.”

  “Who's Luke Bryan?” Glove ponders. “Is he hot? Is he as a hot as me?”

  “Bless your heart,” Pa sighs shaking his head at him.

  “And the girl in the car is Grim's wife, Haven.” I turn my questions to them. “Not that I'm not happy to see your ugly mugs out in these parts, but what the hell are you doing here?”

  Grim starts, “We--”

  “Marines,” Jazz's voice cuts him off.

  “Ma'am,” they greet her in tandem.

  “Respectful.” Pa beams proudly. “Rascal, I'm glad they're here. Help them get settled and ready for dinner will ya? Ma's gonna be so excited to have company for dinner.” He grabs his shotgun and heads towards the house. “But if the pretty one makes a move on my wife, I won't hesitate to shoot him.”

  The screen door shuts and Glove immediately asks, “Why would I make a move on your mother bro'? Is she hot?” Before I can answer he quickly says, “You're parents are old by the way.”

  “That's his grandfather genius,” Jazz retorts an exhausted tone in her voice already.

  “Phew,” Glove exaggerates the word. “I was gonna say...Bro...you were the ultimate accident.”

  “Two hours of this bullshit on the drive here.” Grim points to him. “Two. I almost left his fucking body in a field for crows to peck his eyes out.”

  “But Haven loves me.” Glove shrugs. “And her best friend is in love with me. So I'm pretty much set.”

  Grim goes to snap when Jazz interrupts, “Why is Haven here?”

  His face twitches and a familiar anger I'm used to seeing pours out of him. “It's complicated.”

  “He's over protective.”

  “Shut it,” Grim growls.

  “Look,” I speak up. “No blood shed on my grandparent’s front porch all right? We make it through dinner then you tell me why you're here, why she's here, and most importantly did you get Mandy's named tatted on you?”

  “That's most important?” Jazz jeers from next to me.

  Glove chuckles and extends his fist for me to bump. “Missed you bro.”

  I extend one for Grim to bump and he sighs, exasperated, “Why do you encourage him?”

  With a laugh I wave at Haven who pops out of the truck and rushes over tossing her curvy mocha frame into my arms. “Lordy!”

  I give her a good squeeze, the sound of Grim growling again having me pull back quickly. “You missed me too?”

  “Of course!” she exclaims loudly. “They need you.”

  “As a bumper?” I question.

  “A bumper. A filter.” Haven glares over her shoulder at Grim. “A voice of reason.”

  “Haven--”

  “Nope.” She raises her hand at him. “I don't wanna talk to you.”

  “It's been a fun car ride,” Glove sighs deeply.

  Grim grumps, “Tell me about it.”

  Curious about the tension, but knowing better than to start an argument for them right now I keep my original plan of simply postponing it until after dinner. “Why don't we show y'all the guestrooms? Help you get settled before dinner.”

  “Yeah um...” Glove points to the house behind me. “I thought you lived in a house with one window and chickens for pets. You know. Ultimate farm town shit.”

  Jazz tilts her head at him as Haven wraps her arms around mine. “Why...why...” The rest of the sentence seems to fail. “Just...why?”

  “I don't know. He never mentioned much. I went off of well acted country movies.”

  Weary I ask, “Well acted?”

  “You never objected!” He nods his head at the house. “Are you gonna explain this?”

  “Dinner,” I bluntly respond. “Come on. Let's show you where you'll be stayin' for the night or nights or....”

  “Just go,” Jazz insists. With a slightly jealous look, she's trying to bury, she asks Haven. “Do you need me to talk to Grim?”

  “Talk to him. Yell at him. Anything because he isn't listening to me,” her sigh is followed with a sniffle.

  The sound seems to dial back the resentment in my girl, but I smile at the sentiment anyway. Love how quick she is to stake her claim. First with Mary Beth. Now with Haven. Just the brief flash that she cares that much lets me know she's right. We're gonna be just fine.

  **

  After getting them settled in rooms close to our side of the house, Jazz and I dismiss ourselves to shower up, in which I introduce her to the convenience of shower sex, before going another round in the sack under the challenge of making as little noise as possible. Once we're both momentarily sated, we get dressed. We both know if the guys are here, it's not a good thing, and the likeliness of sex being an option after this moment isn't something we should bother trying to fathom.

  Downstairs I sit at the dining room table with Glove, Grim, and Pa, while Haven and Jazz help Ma bring the dishes in. Pa makes conversation with my brothers about their backgrounds and inquires about their families. Once everything is set and prayer is said, we dig in, with the conversation rolling over random topics setting the scene for what I always wished family dinners would be like growing up. Brothers who aren't disgusted by my presence in the same room. Brothers who don't feel every conversation should be about money whether it's how to make more of it or why they aren't getting enough. I joyfully watch as Ma scolds Glove for smacking on his fried chicken, his elbows on the table, and to remember to use his napkin, all with a smile. From the loving look on her face it's clear she's already adopted him as a grandson.

  “Rascal, pass me those taters.” Pa points.

  As I reach for them Glove ponders, “Why do you call him Rascal?”

  Ma responds, “Always have. Born with a playful, troubled gleam in his eye. Besides, what do you call a boy who eats an entire bowl of cobbler for breakfast when he thinks no one is lookin'?”

  The table chuckles and I shrug. “I was five. Besides it was good!”

  “Is that the recipe you gave me for my birthday?” Haven asks from her place across from Jazz.

  “Yep.”

  “It's a family recipe,” Ma says. “So don't you go sharin' that with anyone else. Understand me?”

  “Yes ma'am.” She offers her a smile.

  “You're family, so I'm not too worried. Besides, now that you're pregnant there are some other recipes that you're gonna want floatin' around,” Ma comments and my fork drops at the same time Jazz's mouth does.

  “What?!” The two of us shout in unison.

  “Have you two lost your damn minds,” Pa fusses. “Lower your voices.”

  “Sorry Pa,” I apologize.

  “You're pregnant?” Jazz snips.

  Haven's jaw bobs before she meekly nods.

  “How'd you know that?” Jazz turns to Ma. “I mean...you just met her.”

  “Oh sugar, don't be ridiculous. I have been around plenty of pregnant women. It doesn't take much to recognize it when you know the signs,” Ma explains as I shift my eyes to Grim who is staring down at his plate.

  Carefully I inquire, “If she's pregnant, why do you both look so miserable?”

  “Good question,” Ma agrees. “Babies are a happy thing! A blessing! Bringing life into this world is a blessing.”

  Grim shakes his head slowly, but doesn't say anything.

  “You worried about one more mouth to feed?” Pa smacks much like Glove. “Because if that's the case put that to rest. You two are family. You were family before you walked through that door. From everything Rascal's told us, feels like we've always known ya. We take care of family. Never have to worry about that kind of thing.”

  The speech co
nvinces Haven's face to smile briefly. “No sir. We're okay there. But thank you....that's...so sweet.”

  “One more person to protect,” Jazz answers pushing her plate away from her. “That's what the problem is.”

  When Grim's eyes lift to hers, I know she's hit the nail on the head. “And knowing Grim's natural reaction to things, it wasn't a thrilled response. He most likely over reacted, said something he shouldn't have and turned an already scared female even more so.” His jaw starts twitching, but unlike the rest of us who know that's when to back down Jazz doesn't believe in boundaries like that in regards to us. “Which is why she's here isn't it? You don't want her out of your sight. No more than she has to be. Am I right?”

  He doesn't answer.

  “Grim.”

  “I don't wanna talk about it anymore.” He drops his fork on the table, the tension match between them escalating.

  “So you're like Lord of the peaches.” Glove moves the conversation. Chuckling at his own joke he emphasizes, “Ya know, 'cause your last name is Lord.”

  “Bless his heart.” Ma shakes her head.

  “What's wrong with my heart?” He has another bite of whipped garlic potatoes. “Do you know something I don't? Can you tell that too? Are you like a fortune teller too?”

  The laughter that erupts burns away some of the animosity, but not enough. Pa stays on the topic change while keeping a distant eye on Grim and Jazz. “Best peaches in the country Glove. Wait 'til you taste dessert. You'll see what I mean.”

  “Man Lordy, I can't believe you didn't tell us you had an entire empire of peaches!” Glove licks his finger and pushes his plate away. “That's the kind of shit you share.”

  “Because you needed more ammo to pick on me?”

  “Need? No. Want. Always. Just imagine the number of jokes that could've been made before now,” Glove laughs leaning back in his seat. “Better yet, think of all the one's we're gonna make now.”

  “Awesome...” I groan.

  “I never asked Jazz, but why do y'all call him Lordy?” Pa questions. “His last name is just Lord.”

  “Right.” Glove leans forward. “But he says this thing when he shoots...” Glancing at Grim they nod in agreement.

  In unison they call out, “Good lordy! Good lordy! Did you see...that shot!”

  Pa tosses his head back laughing before leaning over to give me a good pat on the back. “That's my boy!”

  Ma huffs from the other end of the table, “Jody's been saying that since before Rascal was born. Glad he took something with him when he left.”

  “It's his trademark,” Grim answers her. “If it's something Pa says, my guess is it's his ode to him since he's been gone. The subtle way of keeping his family ties.”

  “I like that,” Ma coos at Grim before turning to me shoot me a loving look. “I'm gonna grab dessert.”

  “I'll help clear plates,” Haven volunteers.

  “No. No. You stay put little lady. I can tell you haven't been eating enough already and over working by the discomfort in your lower back.”

  Shock paints her face, “How--”

  “I'm an old woman, Haven. Not my first rodeo.” She stands reaching for Glove's plate that he's damn near licked clean. “Y'all relax and enjoy each other's company. I'll holla' for Rascal or Jazz if I need any help.”

  “Jazz in the kitchen?” Glove's confusion is to be expected. “I don't think I've ever thought about that. I just assumed she lived at work, so she didn't know what a kitchen was.”

  “You're an idiot,” Jazz snaps.

  “We'll that's not a debate,” Pa inserts making the table laugh again. “He may be an idiot, but his hearts in the right place. Just like Grim may be a little coarse, but his intentions are good. He loves that girl something fierce and the thought of lovin' somethin' else just as fierce probably frightens the shit out of him.” For a second Grim glances over at Haven with a plea in his eyes. “Y'all gotta remember that about good folks. Often, they make choices with the right purpose and pure hearts. The situations just aren't ideal...” His eyes land on me. “No matter what happens in life, don't forget that, Rascal.”

  “Yes sir.” I nod as Ma strolls back in with peaches and cream bars for us to enjoy. However as everyone else lets their attention wander to Ma and her speech on why peaches are the most delicious thing a person can put in their dessert, my eyes stay plastered on Pa. On his fading smile. The spark weakening from his eyes more and more every day. Something is not right. I just don't know what it is. And whatever it is, I know we can survive it. We have to. He has too.

  Day 28 in Georgia

  Hours after dinner, dessert, and unwinding time, Grim tucks Haven into their room, while Glove, Jazz and I gather in the room we've been sharing.

  As soon Glove walks in, he takes a large whiff. “Why does it smell like sex and peaches in here?” Jazz folds her arms across her chest and pins him with an unamused stare. “Why does everything smell like peaches? Am I gonna go home smelling like one?”

  “You're in peach land dumbass.” I chuckle flopping on the edge of our bed. “And yeah. You are.”

  “Lord of Peaches,” Glove returns to mocking. “I'm gonna get you a crown and stick peaches on the pointy parts of it.”

  “Let it go,” Grim growls shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Surprised, I mention, “That was quick.”

  “Yeah, well, we don't really have a lot of time for me to properly explain to my wife why the speech your grandfather gave was not only right, but what I've been trying to say. Now's not really a good time to pow-wow my fucking life issues.”

  “Why's now not a good time?” I raise my eyebrows. “What the hell are y'all doin' here? Better yet, why the hell didn't we know you were coming?”

  “Our help was requested from another team as back up. One of the other teams is set to deal with The Face indirectly. Considering he is our main priority and the problem is it would raise suspicions if we weren't included on a mission involving something to do with him.” Grim explains folding his arms across his chest. “There was a tip reported he's selling three girls in exchange for a new drug that's in it's testing stages.”

  Curious I question, “What kinda drug?”

  “It's goal, from prolonged use, is to enhance your body chemistry resulting in better resistance to bullets.”

  “It makes you bullet proof? What the fuck? This isn't a fucking Marvel movie.”

  “No it's not,” Grim states coldly. “It's fucking real and if he gets it, and that shit actually works, what do you think all of his men are going to be required to start shooting up?”

  “Time out,” Jazz breaks up the conversation. “That doesn't make any sense.”

  “The drug?” Glove questions.

  “No. That makes perfect sense. We're always toying with the human system seeing how to make it stronger, faster, able to endure more than the basic amount of stress we put on it.” She directs her next sentence at Grim. “The Face doesn't make trades for drugs. He trades his girls for money. Period. That money then funds terrorist actions-”

  “I'd say acquiring a drug that could possibly make you bullet proof is up his alley then,” Grim argues.

  “You're not listening.” Jazz stomps her boot covered foot.

  “Not as effective as a high heel,” Glove mumbles.

  “The Face deals in human trafficking. You don't just wake up one night and decide to play in a different ball park. You either ease into that shit or have had your hands in it all along, which he hasn't. This situation is wrong. All wrong. There's so much wrong here there's nothing about it that could possibly be right. Why wasn't I asked to analyze this beforehand?”

  “Maybe because the last report you were asked to finish never got turned in.”

  Jazz's lips shut and curiously I stand. “What do you mean it never got turned in? Jazz sent in that report a couple weeks ago.”

  “Did she?” Grim cringes. “Because according to The Director she needed mor
e time.” My eyes briefly cut to her. “According to The Director, Jazz said her report couldn't be complete at the time he requested. He told her she could have another week to make further assessments.”

  “You told me your profile for Tyger was finished,” I coldly sigh.

  “Director, also wants to know why the two of you haven't returned home yet. We've also been sent to bring you back,” Grim continues. “The threat level for Tyger has been taken down enough to where it's a safe return. Jazz's apartment has been set up for surveillance and monitored. Same for you and Glove's place.”

  Cupping his mouth towards me like it's a secret, Glove says, “I have had a lot of sex on camera...”

  My face rumples in disgust at the thought of that being caught on video.

  Grim starts again, “We've been tracking Tyger closely for the last couple of weeks, those on his team, and anyone he has contact with. We've even established how he's told where to meet The Face.”

  “So what the fuck are we still doing here if we can go home Jazz?” I explode.

  “Voice,” she hisses.

  A vibration sound fills the room and Glove quickly pulls a phone out of his pocket. Quietly he whispers, “Time to move.”

  “Now?” I toss a hand in the air. “I'm not fucking--”

  “Your team has you covered,” Grim assures me. “We've got your weapons and a change of uniform. However, we need to move now. It's a three hour drive. Coming here was not only to pick you up, but to appear as everything is still fine. Tyger has no idea we're being sent in to the help the other team and The Director wanted to keep it that way. Didn't want any sort of tip off happening. So, looks like we're visiting you in your Georgia prison, which is hard to dispute as anything else with Haven here. All caught up?”

  “Yup.” I nod and turn to Glove. “You have my shit?”

  “When'd your clothes get so heavy?” The attempt to lighten the mood only momentarily works.

  “The Director is expecting your video call now,” Grim says forcefully to Jazz. “And he wants a damn good explanation.”