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by Xavier Neal

  Clearing his throat he shrugs. “Tell her. Either she feels the same and you two can move forward or she doesn't and you cut this shit off before your dick turns any bluer and falls off.”

  “My dick is anything but blue.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

  Grim groans and Lordy sighs, “You're sleeping with her? Yeah. Tell her. And tell her soon.”

  “I think I'll do it over dinner tonight,” the idea trails out of me. Whoa. Where the fuck did that come from? “Maybe I can cook for her. Grim--”

  “I can't cook. I tried to cook Haven breakfast once and nearly burned down my kitchen.”

  “And you can't make anything other than chicken fried steak--”

  “You like my chicken fried steak!” Lordy argues.

  “It's not romantic!”

  “Now who's pussy whipped?” Grim laughs under his breath.

  “I'm not pussy whipped, but I've been whipping that pussy,” I chortle.

  “Good to know,” Jazz adds appearing on the other side of Lordy. “However, it's time for us upstairs.”

  She sharply turns on her heels and I continue my conversation strolling beside Grim. “Maybe I'll call Mindy—no. Haven. I'll call Haven and ask for something simple to make.”

  “Why do you have my wife's phone number?” Grim tenses beside me. I open my mouth to playfully respond when he warns, “And I would choose your answer wisely. You know that I have no sense of tolerance for sexual related jokes involving her.”

  My mouth shuts tightly as we head up the stairs, swallowing the joke that was on the tip of my tongue.

  “Now...I repeat, why do you have my wife's phone number.”

  “When you left for school, Mandy thought if Haven talked to me, I would talk to you and defend her. Encourage you to forgive her.”

  “But you didn't.”

  “Why would I?” I grunt back. “I don't condone what she did. I was there when you fell apart. I didn't have anything to say in her defense, but I listened. And I told her how badly it broke you. I told her she could hope for forgiveness but I wouldn't bank on it. After that meeting Mandy figured she could twist me into helping conspire a plan to hook y'all back up, which if you had taken any longer when we got home, I probably would have. Robot Grim sucks. Grim in love is barely tolerable. But heartbroken Grim is fucking scary shit. You need that girl.”

  “And Mandy needs you,” he grumbles as we walk into Merlin's Cave.

  Director Shepard is waiting for us with images already pulled up. The moment the three of us are in our places, Grim in the front closest to the director, me and Lordy slightly behind him, all bodies at full attention, he begins speaking, “According to our records, within the next couple of weeks, the Face will be moving the girls.” A picture of a gorgeous yacht is on the screen. “The girls are being taken out of the country on this. Customs and all the appropriate people have already been paid off for safe passage. It was picked up that because the Face has been made aware of our desire to rescue the girls, at the first sign of trouble they're to be executed.”

  Mindlessly I question, “Executed?”

  “Yes Jacket. Executed. Learning this new piece of information forced JZ's hand on the best approach to take on the situation. Thankfully because he's as cautious as we are, it bought us enough time to adequately come up with a new plan.” We're shown pictures and different angles of the boat before a map. “The girls are expected to be in these three separate rooms below deck.” He walks closer to the screen. “Here. Here. And here. Each with a guard outside their door. On deck we're expecting five on this side, five here, another three here, and two protecting the captain.”

  “I could eliminate several of those with little effort,” Grim suggests. He's sniping skills have yet to be matched. Every time he gets behind the scope, he always hits his target. I've never seen him miss. The meaning behind his nick name. The Grim Reaper. He wants you dead? You're dead. “Especially using--”

  “In one of the plans we examined that was the idea. Take them out while they're still docked, or from the helicopter while we have Lordy and Glove go in, extract the females and take out the ones you couldn't get at. Then if you recall we had wanted you to go in quiet. After deliberation and discussion why that wasn't the quickest or most tactical option we went back to the idea of Grim sniping. However, now that the situation has changed yet again so has the strategy. We're back to going aboard quiet and cold. The rescue boat driven by myself will bring you out to this point.” He points to a space in the water.

  “You're coming on this one sir?” Lordy cautiously asks.

  “Do you have a problem with that Jacket?”

  “No sir,” he quickly answers.

  Unnecessary pressure of having your boss hover around at work in the office is one thing, but to have him in the field grading your every move, conventional and non, is not something I'm sure is going to help this situation flow smoothly. I need it to flow smoothly. I need to get Khlo' off that fucking yacht alive.

  “You three will swim out, and approach the ship. Complete close combat warfare. Glove, this is your area of expertise.” I nod at the acknowledgment. “While you will be expected to sharpen your skills in the coming days to stay up to do date, you'll also be helping your fellow teammates expand theirs. The training room will be locked for condition training--”

  “Like in the shooting range?” Grim ponders.

  “Exactly like that.”

  I ask, “What does that mean?”

  “We lock down the room and proceed by giving you different non ideal situations to get through. Too bright light. Water. Steam. Fog. Any element that could prove to be an issue while on a mission.” Jazz explains.

  “Starting tomorrow, condition training will begin and continue relentlessly. You will also be water training, so be prepared for that. These exercise routines will continue daily until we have a time and date to strike. I am expecting those women brought in alive. And only them. All others are to be treated as hostiles and eliminated. Am I clear?”

  In unison we respond, “Yes sir.”

  “Good. Glove and Grim. A word. My office. Now.” He nods at Lordy and Jazz before exiting.

  The two of us follow behind, but not before hearing Lordy say, “I hate swimming missions.”

  In the hallway, I lean over to whisper to Grim, “Why are we going to the principal’s office?”

  “It's not a joke Jacket.” Director Shepard's voice cuts in shutting my mouth. Grim immediately shoots me a disapproving look to keep it closed.

  Arriving in his office, he closes the door behind us and locks it. Afterward he reaches to the top of the doorframe and pushes a tiny button on the hinge. He stalks over to the center of the room where we are standing at attention and in a low voice demands, “At ease.”

  Grim's shoulders relax but he remains in place. Still. Frozen with his arms behind his back. I follow his lead.

  “There is a leak in our unit.” He informs us.

  “Sir--”

  “Not your team necessarily Jacket. Our unit. HORN.” The information drops both our jaws. “It's been tracked back to this location. Obviously I don't believe it's either of you or you wouldn't be standing in my office.”

  “May I ask why you know it's not us, sir?” I bravely query.

  “He,” the Director starts by pointing to Grim, voice still low. “Wouldn't do anything to put his wife's life at risk or in danger. He also wouldn't risk doing anything that would expose that pressure point secret which could land him more than losing his shot here.”

  Unsure of what he's referencing I glance at Grim whose neck looks like it's straining.

  “And you?” his words draw me back. “You're a fuck up.” Hearing the Director say it tightens my fists behind my back. “Or so you tell yourself. You believe everything you try to do on your own is wrong, so you blindly follow Grim into battle. You trust him above anyone else. He took a blow for you and it's a debt you'll never feel is repaid. You wouldn't do something like leak i
nformation because you're worried about looking like a failure in his eye. Again.”

  Now I know some of the information Jazz keeps in those fucking reports. I didn't think it would be detailed like this. Worst part is he's right. I have failed many things in my life. Let down more people than I can count. Been considered nothing more than the average fuck up you shouldn't pay attention to or give a chance, since I entered Kindergarten, but when Grim took that stab instead of me and didn't demand to have nothing to do with me, when he showed the ultimate bond in comradery, treating me like a brother who made a mistake instead of a child who failed, I silently vowed I'd spend the rest of my life proving to him I was worth keeping around even if I didn't believe it myself.

  “I trust the two of you are not the leak. But that doesn't change the fact there is one and I have to fucking plug it. And you two are the plugs.” I raise my eyebrows. “When it is found you two will be expected to take the necessary means to eliminate it.”

  “How will we know?” Grim questions in the same low volume the Director is using.

  “I fed false information to the remaining members in this unit. The information that gets leaked will lead me to the problem. It may take longer than I expect, but it's the only way I can find it without alerting high suspicion. You two keep your eyes open as well for anything that feels out of place to you. Grim,” He turns his attention back at him. “You're one hell of an observer. Follow that instinct.” His eyes dart back to me, “You. You maintain information most people consider worthless facts about other people. Pay attention to all you hear that most others would ignore. At this point any little crack could help. Understood?”

  In a whisper we agree, “Yes. Sir.”

  “Not a word about this to anyone or it'll be considered treason. Am. I. Clear?”

  “Yes sir,” we sharply whisper again.

  “Dismissed.” He acknowledges, backs up, pushes the button, and unlocks the door.

  Curious what the button was about he mouths, “Silence.”

  A device installed to not allow eavesdropping. A secured room. Completely. I nod and follow Grim out the door, rounding the corner right into Tyger.

  “Watch it asshole,” he gripes gripping the bag of peanuts in his possession tighter.

  “Aren't those Merlin's?” I point to it. I should know. I've bought him more than one bag since he helped out under the table.

  “So?” He shrugs. “I replace the child's favorite snack every couple of weeks or so. He doesn't fucking complain. Neither should you.”

  “Jacket, aren't you supposed to be meeting with your team in interrogation?” Director Shepard says sharply.

  “Headed there now Sir.” Tyger nods respectively, turns back the direction we're headed, and moves past us quickly.

  Without another word between us Grim and I make our exit towards the employee parking lot.

  Finally he says, “I suggest you take the evening, tell Mandy how you feel, and then tell her to be patient. Because these next couple of weeks are going to be anything but forgiving.”

  “What happened to you don't give out advice about love?”

  “That's not about love,” he clarifies. “That's about communication. And coming from a relationship that struggles with it to this day, I'm trying to make sure you don't end up in the same boat.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Don't ever mention it.” Approaching his car he jokes, “I'm serious. Don't ever mention I helped you in this department. Ever.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don't want a viral infection named after me,” he comments before getting in his car.

  Unlocking my door, I slide in, and start the car with his advice in mind.

  **

  After a long painful trip to the grocery store that consisted of several calls to Haven with Grim griping for me to stop calling, I finally got the perfect ingredients for something easy but delicious. Chicken Alfredo, a garden salad, and ready to bake garlic bread. The hope is once I get going, she'll help me figure out the rest, but in case she doesn't I had Haven text me instructions on what to do exactly. I've never done anything like this for anyone before. The closest I came was for Khloe. I occasionally made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for our tea parties together. If I had left over money once I paid for time on my phone and myself a couple of snacks I could hide, I would buy us bread and peanut butter we could keep hidden, and sneak jelly in every once in a while. She used to love when I would “cook” for her. Said it made her feel special. No one else had a big brother that would cook for them or play dolls with them. She deserved to feel that way. So does Mandy.

  Knocking on her door I make a note to myself that I need a key. Fuck, she has mine, I should have hers. That's what couples do. Exchange keys. Shit. That's what we are aren't we? Well. About to be officially.

  The door opens and the face I see has me gripping the bags tightly. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Jack,” the guy who looks like the type her Godfather's described, answers with a smug grin. “Who the fuck are you?”

  My mouth drops to answer when Mandy pops over his shoulder, a startled look on her face, “Michael!” Quickly she stumbles, “Wh-wh-what are you doing here?” Looking down at the bags in my hands I somehow manage to shrug and answer honestly, “I don't know.”

  “Boyfriend?” Jack looks at her.

  “Friend,” she swiftly corrects him. I feel the words start freezing the blood rushing through me.

  “At least I'm that,” I mumble.

  “I'll meet you at the car,” Mandy says to Jack.

  He nods and walks past me like I'm not even fucking there. I grip the grocery bags tighter, the plastic lifespan not much longer at this pace. This jealousy rippling through me has me a few short breaths from using the plastic to suffocate him. End his life. End him trying to take my girl away. The one I'm supposed to rescue.

  “Michael--”

  “It's cool,” I brush her off forcing a playful smirk on my face, the pain from the reality that I'm still just a joke to her harder to swallow than ever before. “Thought since you let me have you for breakfast I would make you dinner.”

  “Michael--”

  “My mistake,” I quickly say. “I should've called first.”

  “Michael--”

  “You don't have to keep calling my name,” I snidely remark. “Time to start practicing Jack's huh?” Her lips press together as a hurt expression appears in her eyes. “Doesn't quite roll off the same but we can't all be winners right?”

  “I--”

  “I'll see you around.” Turning, I adjust the bags in my shaking hands and head back towards my car, my name being called out from her again and again, the sound of her high heels chasing after me, but I don't look back. I can't.

  **

  With an uncontrollable rage I do my best to try to unlock the door, fumbling to the point the bags drop at my feet from being mishandled. The new disaster in front of me causes me to scream out an annoyed “fuck” in a volume that echoes through the neighborhood.

  The door opens and a shirtless Grim looks down at me with irritation clear on his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? You're what's trying to break into my house?”

  “It's not breaking in if I have a fucking key.” I snap struggling to reach for the jar of Alfredo sauce that's rolling away from me.

  “Clint who is it?” Haven appears on his side wearing a slightly revealing tank top. As soon as she sees me she playfully asks, “Change your mind? Need help after all?”

  My jaw clenches and I chuck the glass jar towards the grass. I overshoot and it breaks on the sidewalk with a sound loud enough to have her jump. Turning back around, Grim folds his arms firmly over his chest and nods. “Baby why don't you change and grab me a shirt while I help Glove pick this shit up?”

  In a meek voice she says, “Sure.”

  She scurries away at the same time he leans down to help grab the other items. To my surprise instead of a lecture about
my poor choice in actions he jokingly says, “At least it wasn't your phone.”

  The reference to when his own heart was broken makes the corner of my mouth twitch up. But only for a second.

  Once everything is cleaned up and relocated to the kitchen, I flop down at the high top bar table where Grim slides a shot of whiskey in front of me before sitting down across from me.

  “You only get one,” he states. “It's just to take the edge off.”

  “Just one?” I gripe. “I let you get shit faced.”

  “Situation was different.”

  “Why? Because you were in an actual relationship? Not pretending like some fucking high school play?”

  “Because we were just Marines then.” He growls. “We're not anymore.”

  Another reason he's lucky. He can say shit like that in front of the woman he loves because she knows. Not everything. But enough. Privileges of being a wife. Privileges that I wanted Mandy to have some day. Fuck. I pick up the glass and take a sip, the burn so intense my tongue darts out of my mouth at the disgust.

  “The burn will be nice.” Grim smirks leaning forward.

  “What happened?” Haven comes into the kitchen handing him a shirt, having changed into something more modest herself. One giant reminder I fucked up his evening and I'm sure I'll have to hear shit for it later. But I didn't know where the fuck else to go. “I thought you were making Mandy dinner.”

  “She decided to go out.” I raise my glass. “With someone else.” Another sip. The burn of the aged whiskey numbs my mouth. Numbs a little of the pain. Grim was right. Again.

  “What?” They ask together.

  “So real couples actually do that?” I point to them. “That's cute. A little too Leave It To Beaver for me, but cute.”

  “She had a date?” Haven looks confused.

  “A head's up would've been nice,” I bitch at her.

  Instinctively Grim goes to snap at me like the rabid pit bull he quickly becomes when it comes to her, yet stops at the hand she drops on his shoulder. Like an immediate shot of tranquility. Jealousy I'll never have that forces me to raise the glass again.