Rookie in the Midst [Blue Platoon 1]

by Jools Louise

  They reached the house finally, which spewed four men. Three big fuckers, like Green Eyes, and a smaller blond bombshell with blue eyes that gleamed with concern.

  “Is that Carter?” the blond asked worriedly.

  “Yep!” Green Eyes retorted. “He’s in a bad way. Punctured lung possibly, and he has a lot of other injuries, too. Someone beat him half to death.”

  “Into the living room,” the blond ordered, running back inside. “I’ll get my Bergen.”

  Elvis frowned and went to follow, and then froze when he became the recipient of the remaining three men’s menacing stares.

  “What happened?” the biggest asked, his voice a rough growl, looking as though he ate bricks for every meal.

  “He was nearly murdered by his parents,” Elvis replied, without a hint of snark, recognizing an alpha when he saw one. The guy practically oozed dominance. “They blamed him for not taking care of you lot.” He rolled his eyes. “As if Carter can achieve what those fuckwits couldn’t in ten years.”

  The alpha arched one brow quizzically. “And who are you?”

  “Elvis McKenzie. My parents are good friends with the Ruins.”

  “I can see that,” was the response as the man eyed Elvis’s bruises. “It looks as though they have the same delicate way as the Ruin clan when handling their offspring. Why come to us?”

  “Carter said you might be able to help,” he replied, and then sighed heavily. “But I don’t see how. Your friend back there didn’t seem really that friendly.”

  “We just had two attempts made on our lives,” the alpha retorted sharply, glaring. “Why the fuck would either of you think we’d appreciate visitors so soon after?”

  “We aren’t like our parents,” Elvis said sincerely, losing his attitude in a hurry. He lifted his hands in supplication, palms outward. “We can’t help the family we were born into. But damn sure don’t need to stay with them. Carter is taking the blame for every bad decision his parents make while they sit around doing nothing useful.” He scowled. “Carter said that your friend there, the blond, was kind to him.” He looked down at his muddy shoes. “I’m sorry we troubled you. As soon as Carter’s well enough to travel again, we’ll be out of your hair.”

  The alpha studied him for long seconds, his dark eyes blank, his face expressionless. “Come,” he commanded, turning. “Don’t try anything funny. We’ve had enough surprises recently.”

  Elvis stared after him wide-eyed, and looked down at his skinny, five-foot-six-inch frame. “Are you kidding? You guys would eat me alive.”

  “No, sweetie,” the dark-haired beauty with the sinfully gorgeous mocha skin tone drawled, waggling his brows. “We’d make sure to kill you, first. We like our meat well done.”

  Elvis gasped at the comment, remaining in place for a minute as the guy headed inside, and then glanced at the other man. “Anything you’d like to add?” he asked sarcastically.

  The man grinned, his gray eyes glinting with amusement. “Nah. I think my mates were fairly eloquent. After you, cutie.”

  Elvis snorted at that and then lugged himself and the bags into the lovely dwelling, looking around with interest. It was beautiful, all light pine and stone highlights, with a stunning décor. It immediately felt like a home, not the mausoleum he lived in. There were rugs on the floor, warmth drifted from heaters situated in the hallway, and pictures adorned the walls, depicting scenes of the Scottish Highlands through the seasons.

  His attention was snared as he watched the blond cutting Carter’s T-shirt from him. “Are you a doctor?” he asked, wandering through to stand beside the couch where Carter was lying.

  “Army medic,” the guy replied distractedly. “Was, anyway.”

  “What are you now?” Elvis couldn’t resist asking.

  The blond grinned, and then winked. “Fuck bunny.”

  Elvis laughed, eyeing the four prime studs who stood watching proceedings. “Yeah, well, nice work if you can get it,” he retorted.

  “Why did they attack Carter? Was he the only one to be hurt?” the blond asked seriously, listening to Carter’s breathing through a stethoscope, back to being a professional again.

  “He always is,” Elvis said sadly.

  “Why?”

  “Because Connor always manages to get away with murder. The bastard’s a thug and a bully, but pretty smart. He knows that Maureen and Arnie hate that Carter is gay. They don’t need much excuse to punish Carter. Any little thing, and he’s abused. It’s disgusting. Although, he was the one to drag Maureen away from Carter before she killed him. She actually listened when he told her she would lose status by murdering her own son. Go figure.”

  “And what about you?” the blond said shrewdly, pinning Elvis with his blue gaze. “Looks as though you’ve been through it, as well.”

  Elvis shrugged. “I don’t get it as bad as Carter. The other night, Maureen went ballistic. I actually thought Carter was dead. I only visited because I’d had enough of my own family and was going to run away. I hadn’t intended to call on Carter at all. He was damned lucky I did. I had to get him out of there, even though it was risky. We couldn’t stay in that horrible place. It’s evil.”

  “He’s got internal bleeding, a punctured lung, broken ribs, and a nasty concussion, plus a possible ruptured spleen,” the medic said. “Finch, I’m going to need more help here. This is out of my comfort zone.”

  Carter’s breathing slowed, his complexion turning even more ashen.

  “Fuck! I’m losing him!” the medic cried. “Don’t give up, Carter. Stay with me, honey. Don’t let them win. Fight!” He placed both hands on Carter’s chest, glaring into the man’s battered face.

  Elvis watched in awe as the blond’s hands seemed to glow, as though heating up, and a mist seemed to surround him, spreading out and enveloping Carter, as well. Blue lightning flashed, tiny darts of it, arrowing into Carter.

  “You need to touch me, guys,” the medic declared. “I don’t know why, but I sense you need to add your strength to mine. Focus on him getting better. He’s near death. We can’t lose him.”

  As one, the four men moved to stand behind their mate, each placing one hand on his shoulder or arm. Then they closed their eyes, and Elvis witnessed the same fog emanating from them, as well, mixing with the first cloud, merging seamlessly.

  A moment later, the blond let out a gasp and fell backward, eyes rolling back in his head.

  “Shit! Craig, are you okay?” the alpha shouted, kneeling and cradling the medic in his arms. He stroked the man’s tousled locks and kissed him urgently. The others looked on worriedly, love in their eyes.

  “Are you all his mates?” Elvis asked in awe.

  “Oh, yeah,” Green Eyes retorted, smiling slightly, though his gaze was still wary. “Meet the Hartland pack. I’m Zane Finch, the alpha is Amos Hartland, the gray-eyed red head is Alfie Blaze, and the London stud is Brady Garnet.”

  “Well, fuck me with a feather,” Elvis said aloud, and then sighed dreamily. “I don’t suppose you have siblings?”

  Finch laughed loudly. “Sweet pea, I like you, dammit.”

  Carter began to moan softly, the mist disappearing in a flash as soon as he started to regain consciousness, his color much better.

  “Carter?” Elvis cried, moving to his side and kneeling beside the couch. “Are you okay? I thought we’d lost you.”

  “I couldn’t breathe,” Carter said faintly, his voice hoarse. “My chest felt so tight, as though it was filled with fluid or something. Like I was drowning. Then the pressure lifted, and the pain seemed to disappear.”

  “I’m glad it worked,” Craig whispered, still wrapped in Amos’s arms. “I needed to help. You wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

  “You did help,” Amos told him. “You just saved his life.” He kissed Craig tenderly, melting Elvis’s heart all over again.

  “Thank you,” Elvis said, tears filling his eyes. “I couldn’t bear it if I lost Carter. It was bad enough when Sharpe
was taken from us.”

  “You didn’t lose me,” Carter responded, reaching to take Elvis’s hand in his. “Thank you for getting me out of there.” Then he looked at the men around him. “Although I think we may have brought more trouble to your door.”

  “Trouble?” Garnet snorted. “When don’t we have trouble?”

  “Yeah,” Blaze added. “It’s never stopped us helping anyone before. We ain’t about to back off now.”

  Carter smiled faintly and then closed his eyes, obviously exhausted. “We just needed a place to stay until we figure out what to do next,” he murmured. “Once we decide, we’ll leave you in peace.”

  “You can stay as long as you like,” Craig responded firmly, ignoring the grunts from his mates. “There’s no way we’d let you leave anytime soon, knowing what could happen to you both.”

  “Yes, darling,” Finch said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d like breakfast, sweet pea?” he asked sarcastically. “So long as we’re running a hotel for shifters in crisis, I might as well make myself useful. I know we said we wanted to help people—I just didn’t think we’d be living with them, as well!”

  Craig launched from Amos’s arms as though spring-loaded and smacked Finch on the shoulder. Hard. Elvis grinned as the bombshell lit into the big bruiser, wagging a finger at the man, who actually looked shame-faced, his face flushed as he avoided looking into Craig’s piercing gaze.

  “Stop being a dick, Finch,” Craig said angrily. “Not everyone’s built like a brick shithouse and trained for combat. We’re not all able to switch off our emotions and act like we don’t care. You boys look like you were born to fight, but Carter and Elvis aren’t like that. Neither am I. Some of us have suffered bullies like the Ruins, with no choice in the matter.”

  He poked his finger into Finch’s chest, standing toe to toe with the man, who actually looked fairly terrified by the experience. Elvis almost clapped. Way to go, Craig! The medic wasn’t finished.

  “I was bullied from the second I was fostered, to the second I left. Every day of school, I was targeted by morons who liked to taunt the poor little orphan boy. Every parents’ evening, I’d be the only one who didn’t have anyone to care. Every evening, I’d be the one with no one to meet him from school. At home, everything I did ended up with me being punished, either locked in the coal shed or starved of meals, or beaten with a belt. I kept running away, getting into worse trouble until my behavior ended up getting my best friend killed. So don’t you cop that fucking attitude with these poor boys. If they need help, and a place to stay, then this is the place to be.”

  He turned to look at Elvis. “Finch will be glad to provide food for you, as you’re probably hungry,” he said, flushed with irritation. “Now!” he added to Finch, who jerked, startled, and turned swiftly toward the kitchen, eyeing Craig warily.

  “Woo-hoo!” Elvis yelled. “Score one for the little guys.”

  Craig shot him a look. “I wouldn’t suggest winding him up,” he said sharply. “There’s no question about us helping you, but I wouldn’t advise staying on his wrong side.”

  Elvis gulped and darted a glance at Finch, who smirked evilly, using his thumb to slash an imaginary cut across his throat. “I don’t suppose I could use your bathroom?” he asked. “I just realized I need to tinkle pretty urgently.”

  Craig grinned and jerked his thumb to a door on the left. “Shake it, baby,” he said, laughing when Elvis ran swiftly out of trouble.

  Elvis heard him scolding his mates as he peed and smiled in delight. Craig was pretty cool and had his sexy mates wrapped around his finger. The best of it was, those big tough SF dudes didn’t seem to care. He sighed, washing his hands. He hoped he’d find his mates. Especially ones like these. Four or five big, tough bruisers who would protect him forever, and look at him as though he was the most precious thing in the world to them. Oh yeah.

  Chapter Eight

  “I didn’t know you’d been bullied,” Amos said much later, sitting in the living room enjoying the log fire and cold beer. A half-eaten cherry pie sat on one of the coffee tables as the Hartland pack conversed. “I followed some of your history, but my parents didn’t say that you’d been through that.”

  “There were a couple of older boys who liked to be mean,” Craig said, snuggled in the alpha’s arms, replete after their meal of steak, baked potatoes, salad, and corncobs. There’d been three cherry pies and lashings of whipped cream, with only a little left. He felt content, despite the hint of danger that still lurked in the air. This was the home he’d always wanted, surrounded by a loving family, his belly full, feeling safe in their arms. “The group home was a cold, unloving place. I had to act tough just to survive. I hung with a gang I thought were cool, but they were into some nasty stuff. When my friend died, I quit and decided I needed to turn my life around. I was the one they were after. I bad-mouthed the wrong someone.”

  “What was foster care like?” Elvis asked, curled up on the floor in front of Carter, who still slept on one of the couches. He’d managed to eat and then had fallen asleep again soon after.

  “Lonely,” Craig replied, sighing as he stared into the flames. “It wasn’t all bad, but those boys made it unpleasant. They needed someone to pick on, I suppose, to give them control over their lives. The foster carers were pretty negligent and weren’t very interested in us. They were in it for the money, not because they wanted to help. I knew I was a shifter, which made it worse, because I had nobody to talk to about it. My wolf was unhappy, stifled since there was nowhere to run unseen. I spent years feeling miserable.” He smiled up at Amos. “It wasn’t until I enlisted that I felt a sense of belonging. When I went on exercise, twice, anyway, I was finally able to let loose.”

  “You shifted on exercise?” Amos asked, his gaze suddenly intent. “Wasn’t Carlos in basic training with you?”

  Craig felt sick and closed his eyes in horror. “I’m the one, aren’t I?” he whispered. “He must have seen me. That’s why he’s involved in that facility. Because of me. He’s an opportunist of the worst kind. Always out to make a buck. And he said, when he beat me up, that he was going to get rich. I thought he was talking about smuggling or something.”

  “Hey,” Amos said softly, hugging him. “You weren’t brought up like we were, knowing about your heritage. You did the right thing and listened to your instincts. You’ve had to survive the only way you could. I don’t blame you for letting your wolf loose when you had an opportunity. He must have been feeling trapped having to stay hidden for so long.”

  “He was desperate to run,” Craig admitted. “We were up on the moors, and it was the middle of the night. I sneaked out of camp, shifted, and ran for hours before sneaking back again. It was the best feeling.” He smiled, remembering how free he had felt. The wind rushing through his fur, and the sense of rightness.

  “I know,” Amos said, kissing him. “Which is why you shouldn’t feel bad. Carlos was a nasty little shite. He was transferred to our unit because his CO couldn’t deal with him anymore. It’s my fault, if anything, that he wasn’t booted right out of the military. He was no good. I just figured I shouldn’t give up on him.” He looked mortified. “After what he did to you, if I ever see him again, I’ll rip him limb from limb.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have siblings?” Elvis piped up. “Just a couple would do. I love big men.”

  “I have a brother,” Amos laughed. “But he’s a prick. Worse than most of the people around here, actually.”

  Craig grinned at Elvis, eyeing his spiky brown hair, fringed with pink, the sparkling amber eyes rimmed with black eyeliner, and the attitude that just didn’t quit. “I know a couple of guys who’d take you on,” he said. “I’m not sure they’d survive the experience, though.”

  Elvis giggled, rubbing an imaginary medal on his skinny chest. “Honey, they’d be thanking me before they expired,” he jibed, winking.

  “Were you and Sharpe, you know, close?” Craig asked delicately, blush
ing a little at the laser-sharp look he received from Elvis.

  “You mean were we fucking?” Elvis asked dryly, laughing. “No. We weren’t close like that. He, Carter, and I were just…good friends. Without benefits,” he giggled. “We were more like brothers, really. Far closer than with our own families.”

  “Did your parents beat you from a young age?”

  “Yeah,” the skinny brunette replied wearily. “They hated that I was gay, and that I liked Sharpe and Carter. They hated that I’m the runt of the litter, and not at all interested in sport or getting muddy.” He rolled his eyes. “As if. Douglas, my brother, is the golden child. They think the moon shines out of his ass. Personally, I think he’s overrated. Has no skills in the fashion department. So disgustingly boring.”

  Craig giggled, liking the guy immensely. “I don’t know. Mud wrestling could be fun…with the right partner,” he said mischievously, eyeing his mates salaciously.

  “Keep talking, sex muffin,” Finch said drowsily, smiling up from his position at Amos’s feet. “I’m sure I can find a nice puddle to chuck you into, just for kicks.”

  Craig gave a gasp of mock horror and leaned down for a smooch. “You promise?” he murmured against Finch’s lips.

  They kissed for long, sweet seconds, parting reluctantly. “I should take first watch,” Finch said after a pause, rising to his feet. “I’ve placed sensors around the valley, but we still need eyes on, just in case.”

  “It’s getting late,” Amos agreed, lifting Craig easily. “Garnet, why don’t you help Carter upstairs? He’ll be more comfortable in a bed.”

  Craig yawned. “I need to check on him again, through the night,” he said. “He’s been through the wringer.”

  “Let’s get him settled, first,” Garnet suggested, lifting the slender man carefully. Carter didn’t stir, his breathing deep and easy. His bruises had practically disappeared, and he looked healthy. Craig wasn’t taking chances, though.