Under His Watch: A Brothers Synn Novel

by Light, Victoria

  I pushed my way through the crowd, trying to get my head straight. How the hell was Ryan going to show up in my life again and ask me to guard him, acting as if nothing had ever happened? He’d broken my heart. That was hard shit to admit for a guy like me. It may have happened nearly a decade ago, but that didn’t mean I'd forgiven him.

  "Hold on! Bau, wait!"

  I came to a quick stop and he collided into my back. I turned around, and he glowered up at me with determination burning in his eyes. I remembered that look all too well. I'd been weak to that look. When Ryan had come to our squad, none of us had wanted to have much to do with him. We didn't know what his MO was and we certainly didn't want to deal with someone who would slow us down or put us into any extra danger. But it didn't take long for us to realize that Ryan was capable of taking care of himself. He was no soldier, but he had a warrior's spirit. It was that intensity that'd drawn me to him.

  "I'm waiting," I said.

  "I know you don't owe me anything. But I need to get to Los Llanos, and you're the only man that can help me. You don't have to do it for me. Do it knowing you'll be helping a greater cause." He pointed to the big photo of two people embracing in front of the remains of a building. "You'll be helping prevent more of that. And the extinction of an incredibly rare animal."

  "I'm not in the business of charity work," I said. "It's a terrible, terrible world out there, Ryan. That ain't ever gonna change."

  "I'll pay you," he said, pleading. "Please, Bau." He reached out and grabbed my hand. "Please."

  I tugged free of his grasp, though my palm was tingling from his touch. God fucking dammit. I couldn't believe it. I'd gone over this scenario so many times—the words I'd have for him if I ever saw him again. How I’d unleash hell on him and give him a taste of how he'd made me feel. But now I felt all of that slipping away.

  I had to get the hell out of here and away from him.

  "Forget it. The only Los I'll be seeing tomorrow is Los Angeles." I turned to leave and Ryan stopped me again by grabbing my arm. He pulled a card from his pocket and slapped it into my palm.

  "Please, Bau. If you reconsider, you can contact me at this number. I've only got one shot at getting this story out there. This quadrant of forest is designated to be clear cut within the month. I have all of my cards in order except this one, and if I have to fly back to New York tomorrow there's no way I'll be able to get everything lined up again in time. I can reimburse whatever fee you demand of me after the fact. You know I'm good for the money. So please."

  I tucked the business card into my jacket's chest pocket. "Sorry, Ryan. I can't help you." Then I left him standing there.

  True to his promise about the VIP treatment, Castillo had a limousine take me back to the hotel. I went up to my room and changed out of my suit, which he'd had custom tailored for me that very day, and headed down to the lobby bar. I ordered myself a drink and exiled myself to a corner table where I could be alone with my thoughts. I found myself moving back through time and memories that threw me into the dust of an Iraqi desert from seven years ago.

  "My name's Ryan Everton, I'm gonna be attached to your squad to shoot photos of the situation here. I just want to clear the air. I'm here working with you, not against you. Nothing I take will get you in trouble with anyone who might be looking for that kind of thing. I'm just here to show people what kind of shit you guys are going through."

  Nobody had really responded to him. We'd all just kind of stared at him like he was speaking Arabic. The same thing was going through all of our minds: this guy better not get me killed. Ryan was green—it was his very first assignment in the country after receiving security clearance and convincing an editor that he had the chops. We were around the same age, but the difference in experience was vast. I'd already been out there for three years and had seen combat many times. I’d been through the rigorous Ranger training. But what Ryan lacked in hands-on experience, he made up with character. He was quick on his feet, never hesitating under pressure. He made it clear from the very first operation with us that he was not going to slow us down.

  "Everton," I told him as we rode next to each other in the back of a Humvee, about a week after he'd arrived. "Stick close to me. I'll make sure nothing happens to you. I'll make sure you get everything you need."

  He looked at me, surprised. It was the first time any of us had really addressed him.

  "Thank you, Sergeant." Then he added with a grin, "Hopefully this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

  He and I spent a lot of time together after that. He stuck by me to ask me questions about life in the Rangers, about the guys in my unit, and about me. I told him about my brothers and my tight-knit family, about how I'd grown up on a ranch out north an hour or so from Los Angeles, in central California. He always remained pretty elusive about his past, keeping the focus on me. My intuition told me he was gay, but I didn't know if he could tell I was attracted to him.

  There was no room for overt flirtation where we were, just a feeling that had continued to grow inside of me, fueled by small things: a certain way he looked at me, a touch that seemed to linger a little longer than normal. I was by myself one night, off having a cigarette and looking at the stars, when Ryan came out and joined me. We sat on the sand and watched flashes of gunfire way off in the west, a skirmish we’d be deployed to the very next day. Ryan then opened up to me about himself. He'd become a photographer to tell the stories of people without the ability to tell their own, and hopefully do some good in the world. I remembered how moved I’d been. I'd joined the army with a vague notion of wanting to do good things, but mostly it was because I just thought it was cool. My respect and attraction for him grew beyond belief.

  I could remember it so clearly. I'd reached out and touched his hand. It was like my body had gone ahead and done it on its own; I wasn't even thinking. Then his fingers were slipping around mine. Then we were kissing. It only lasted a few moments before we got control of ourselves. We couldn't be caught doing something like that, not where we were. But that night really was the start of something beautiful. I'd never felt anything like it before.

  The memories cleared and dropped me back in the hotel bar. I took a sip of my drink and sat back in my chair with a sigh. Just like that, Ryan was back in my life. I hated that I was reliving my feelings for him. None of that shit mattered anymore. It was all in the past. But goddamn, him needing my help had really gotten me turned around.

  You don't need to help him, I told myself. You owe him nothing.

  I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the business card tucked inside, holding it between my thumb and forefinger and rotating it over and over. Then I drained down the rest of my glass and got out my cell phone.

  "Hello?" Ryan's voice, even though it was through the phone, still managed to make my heart beat a little faster. It was insane that someone could still have that kind of power over me after so many years. I'd stopped wanting him a long time ago, but I couldn't just ignore that history we'd shared—even if it had ended the way it had.

  "It's Bau," I said.

  "Bau! Hold on one second. Let me get outside where I can hear you." I heard the noise of the event in the background, then the sound of a door closing and finally, quiet. "Sorry about that."

  "I really shouldn't be fucking doing this," I grumbled. "Cover the necessary expenses and I'll escort you into the country and get all the necessary documents verified so that you can enter. Then, I'll charter a plane to fly me out the following morning. I can provide contacts if you do need a bodyguard in country, but something tells me that won't be necessary for you."

  "Thank you," he said, relief audible in his voice. "You don't know how much I owe you, Bau. I promise I'll compensate you your full fee after I sell the project, and anything else you need on top."

  There was one thing I could think of that I wanted from him: answers.

  * * *

  Ryan met me at the Lobo airport the following morning. H
e arrived dressed in a plain t-shirt and worn-out jeans, a large canvas duffel bag slung across his shoulder. His eyes were shaded behind a pair of mirrored aviators. He held out his hand as he came up to me and we shared an awkward handshake. It was obvious neither of us knew how to act around the other anymore.

  "You look good," Ryan announced. "I mean, you look healthy. You've been taking good care of yourself."

  I look healthy? I couldn't hold back a snicker. "Thanks. You look good, yourself. Come on, our plane's waiting."

  I didn't have much baggage, just a small carry-on with a few changes of clothing, my documentation, and basic gear like a satellite phone. All the major equipment that I'd brought for the Castillo contract I'd organized to be shipped back to Los Angeles. Our flight was a small twin prop airplane that looked like its best days were decades behind it, and we followed the line of passengers down the tarmac and walked up the stairway to board. The interior was as fucked as the outside, with stained seats and panels in the ceiling that were cracked and open, exposing the wiring beneath. The air smelled like someone had recently indulged in a cheap cigar.

  "Oh, this should be fun," Ryan said, ducking his head under the door frame. "But it can't be any worse that the flight into Camp Basrah. Remember that?"

  "Shit," I said with a laugh. Our squad had flown in on an ancient C-130 that'd been in very real danger of coming apart on Basrah's rocky tarmac. I was surprised that Ryan had brought that up. What else did he remember?

  A memory flashed across my mind like it'd been illuminated by a flare gun: I had Ryan up against the outside wall of the Basrah mess hall, in a dark spot hidden from view by several large water tanks. His shirt was open, his chest exposed to my lips. His fingers intertwined through my dog tag chain, and he used it to yank me closer. I remembered the feeling of his cock against my palm as I stuffed my hand down the front of his pants. I remembered the sound of his restrained moan in my ear.

  Damn. I felt an unexpected pulse of excitement between my legs and quickly pushed the memory away. We found our seats. Ryan had a small, rangefinder-style camera with him and snapped a photo of me.

  "Whoah, whoah," I said. "I didn't know I was going to be featured in this story."

  He smiled slightly and took another photo before putting the camera away. The plane shuddered violently as the engines coughed to life, and I leaned across Ryan, who was sitting by the window, to peer out and make sure the propellers hadn't fallen off.

  "I should've asked Castillo if his private jet service include countries with a level 4 travel advisory," I said, my voice barely audible over the groan of the engines. There was so much rattling it felt like nothing was bolted down properly. Ryan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver flask. He took a swig from it and passed it to me.

  The plane managed to make it off the ground, though for a moment I considered running outside to give it a push or at least sticking my arm out the window to add some extra lift. Lobo grew smaller and smaller in the view out the hazy window until we were up above the clouds.

  Los Llanos was a country that'd been rife with civil unrest and criminal activity for decades. It was a dangerous place, but not necessarily any more so than the place we'd just left behind, especially for experienced men. I knew that Ryan was capable and had plenty of experience in far harsher places, but I did wonder about how he planned to get around.

  "So, what's this cat?" I said, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of the engines.

  "What?" Ryan shouted.

  "This cat you're going to take a photo of. What's so special about it?"

  He got out his cell phone and pulled up a grainy black-and-white photo of a small spotted cat standing alert, its eyes glowing from the flash. "This is the Llanos jungle cat. This photo was taken in 1993 by a logger. It’s the best photo of this animal that exists." He swiped the screen and brought up an old painting of the same cat. It was grey with dark brown spots and bright yellow eyes. "And this is an illustration that was done in the 19th century, the only color representation of the animal. There's been recent reports of sightings, so I know it hasn't gone extinct yet, but no one has been able to go in and see it."

  "When did you start doing wildlife photography?" I asked.

  "The clearing of the Llanos jungle is responsible for multiple landslides over the past three decades that have killed thousands of people. The same situation is happening in countless places all over the continent, and the world. People are so inundated these days that when they see a story like this, they forget about it instantly." He tapped his phone. "This little cat is on the verge of losing its very existence. It's the perfect symbolic mascot to raise awareness of what's going on in Los Llanos and elsewhere. People will remember it. You know why?" He turned the phone off and slipped it into his pocket.

  "Why?"

  "Because it's cute.”

  "You should have more faith in people," I said.

  He laughed. "Do you? I know you saw a lot more in Iraq than I ever did. There's not a whole lot that I've experienced in life to give me much faith in people."

  "I have plenty of faith in people."

  He looked at me, memories twinkling in his grey eyes. "You know, Bau, I never understood your positivity, though I did admire it.”

  "You can see child who's starving because of bullshit far beyond her control. But you can also see her offering half of her candy bar without even a second thought. And there's men like you, who care and are doing what they can to make a difference."

  Ryan turned to look out the window. His hand sat on the arm rest, and I felt an urge to take it into mine. I remembered this intensity. Back then, it'd ignited this desire to protect him. I could sense he had pain inside of him, and I'd wanted to take it away from him. I'd always had a guardian instinct thanks to growing up with two younger brothers who looked up to me. But with Ryan it'd been something completely beyond what I'd been used to, and that feeling was coming back to me now. I'd forgotten what it felt like. No one else I'd ever been with had made me feel like this—and I'd been with a lot of men since Ryan.

  We didn't talk much for the rest of the flight. I mulled over the situation I was in—I'd agreed to go far enough to make sure Ryan got into the country successfully. Now I found myself wondering if I'd really be able to just leave him behind.

  4

  Ryan

  For as long as I could remember, I'd been sensitive to the injustices of the world.

  It started when I was a kid, when I learned that the people I called Mom and Dad weren't my biological parents; that I'd been given up as a baby. It continued when I realized boys looked a hell of a lot better to me than girls, and found that very few people—my parents included—were willing to accept that about me. It only grew deeper as I learned more about the world. But I didn't want to turn away. I wanted to make a difference, to do what I could with my God-given talents to help people who had been abandoned by hope.

  Maybe that was what really drew me to Bau, and why I'd been so attracted to him back then. He didn't have lofty and pretentious ideals like mine, he acted because protecting others was his natural instinct. I admired his strength, his spirit, and his sense of honor, and I quickly found myself falling for him. Becoming lovers felt so incredibly right. I'd never felt that kind of magnetism before, like there was no question that it was going to happen.

  And it was because of those overwhelming feelings that'd I'd needed to leave. Well, it was more like I'd run away.

  When thinking about how I felt back then, even now it still made me afraid. And now that he'd been brought back into my life, I didn't know what to do. Part of me was relieved that he would be gone tomorrow, and part of me was hoping for...

  I had no idea what I was hoping for.

  We spent two hours at an immigrations and customs office, where an officer inspected my photography equipment and questioned us. Through the window, I glimpsed a view of the bustling city of Puerto Tame, which lay fifty miles east of the forest. G
uards armed with machine guns patrolled outside, and the streets were clogged with noisy traffic. When the officer adamantly refused to believe Bau was an American contractor, despite his US passport and paperwork, we quickly got the picture and greased his palm. I always allocated funds for bribes. We were immediately granted stamps and access.

  I called up Gianna McNamara, an old colleague who was a liaison in Los Llanos. She'd lived in the country for about a year and had spent several years prior doing both research and aid work throughout the region. She arrived an hour later in a beat-up Jeep, grinning widely at me as she hopped down from the open cab.

  "Motherfucking Ryan Everton. I'm glad you made it." She shook my hand. "Apologies again for the difficulties. I had no idea that was a thing now."

  "It's okay," I said, happy to see her again. It'd been a good five years since we'd first met during a project here in Los Llanos. "That's on me. I should've had all of the logistics buttoned down."