by Laura Acton
He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap, and took a long swig. Blowing out a frustrated breath, Jon wanted to punch something … someone … something … Broderick. He headed downstairs to the unfinished basement.
Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he surveyed the stark, bare cement floors and walls of his basement. He promised Jen years ago he would finish what he started. His eyes landed on the stack of abandoned sheetrock in one corner. Like many of his promises recently, this one went unfulfilled. His standard excuse … too busy with work. Saving lives trumped fixing up the basement.
Excuses are like assholes … everyone has one, and they stink. Wound tighter than a drum, Jon sat on the weight bench and took another swig of beer. Truth be told, he was shitty when it came to construction projects.
My skills are more destructive than constructive. I’m quite skilled at demolishing. I’m an expert sniper. I ruin the lives of so many with one bullet. Jon sucked in a breath as the images of all the people he neutralized over the years flooded his brain. Neutralize is such a sanitary term. One whose usage allowed them to feel better about taking the lethal shot, but he accepted the truth, he killed people.
I’m not a murderer, my actions are not prompted by malice or anger, but when the need arises, when the command PapaGolf comes down, I kill, I pull a trigger to save others.
To protect and serve … the reason I became a cop. To do that, I must obliterate life on occasion, but until now, I never razed a member of my team. I’m guilty of demolishing all five of them by allowing Broderick to remain on this team so long.
Jon lifted the beer bottle again as he reviewed the state of each teammate. Ray got shot and became enraged. The situation must be extreme before Ray loses his cool. The most shocking part was when Ray told him to shut the fuck up. His information officer, less lethal Ray, rarely raised his voice or cussed, preferring constructive and level-headed discourse. The fact Ray lost control, Jon laid squarely at Broderick’s feet. Neither would’ve happened if Broderick had not been forced on us.
Loki is an utter mess. The prankster techie, a happy-go-lucky guy who befriends everyone, was driven to verbally and physically attack Broderick. Loki lived by the rule ‘if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything.’ Though cute and playful like a raccoon, Loki’s claws could seriously mess up someone as he fiercely protected his surrogate family.
Lexa’s so off balance. She acted different ever since the rookie joined. Her usual rational behavior is entirely off-kilter. If he didn’t know her so well, he’d think she was manic. She grew cold and distant again, resembling the slip of a girl who joined them carrying a chip on her shoulder, reverting to someone with something to prove to the world. Broderick’s leering and inappropriate comments are likely the cause of her changes. Lexa and Loki served justice for Ray today. Hell, I wish I could’ve punched Broderick’s lights out.
Nick words, although delivered calmly, indicated his displeasure. He let his longtime friend down in so many ways. Nick counted on him to help lead the others. I led them alright. Right into chaos. This is on me regardless of what Nick says. I should’ve found a way to kick Broderick off our team before things disintegrated.
Jon sighed when he thought of Bram. His best friend seemed so disappointed in him. Unfortunately, Bram is the one wearing blinders. He closes his eyes and fails to acknowledge how detrimental Broderick is to the delicate team balance.
Nick’s words entered his head, ‘Dan?’ Anger surged. Nick thought I forgot him in my list of team members. I didn’t forget a damned thing … I deliberately excluded him. Gambrill shouldn’t have pushed Broderick on us. The ex-soldier does not belong in TRF. The team is in shambles, all because of this unwanted rookie. He is too cocky, reckless, aggressive, and unreadable.
Nick is wrong. Broderick is a perfect mix of Burl and Alejandro. I said for weeks Broderick would get one of us killed with his soldier ways, and Ray nearly was today.
Just like Burl, Broderick left his teammate unprotected. Burl had been too aggressive, careless, and not a team player. When Burl ignored a direct order and went after a subject, he got Jason Gordon shot. Jason moved to cover Burl’s ass from gunfire. When Jason went down, Burl failed to protect him, continuing after the subject leaving Jason vulnerable on the ground.
Seeing Jason bleeding and exposed, shocked Jon. How could a teammate so callously leave another? Nick held a shield while Jon dragged Jason to safety as bullets continued to fly. Managing to tuck Jason behind the shelter, Jon cried out when two slugs ripped into his leg. Without Nick there to hold pressure on his leg wounds, Jon would’ve bled out.
Later, Nick found Burl dead and riddled with bullets. Rashly, Burl followed the fleeing subject into another building filled with gang members who all opened fire. Burl now occupies a casket six-feet under because of his soldier hero complex and assumption that his plan was better than Jason’s.
Broderick is like Alejandro too—completely unreadable. I don’t trust Broderick to have our backs. Sure, he can shoot, but when it comes down to it, I have no idea what the damned rookie is thinking, and if he will betray me as Alejandro did.
Alejandro had been Jon’s junior partner in the Organized Crime Unit and turned out to be a cold bastard and traitor. Jon’s inability to read Alejandro resulted in several cops being injured and allowed the leader of one of the major crime families to escape. He and Alejandro worked undercover together for six months digging up the goods on the Cazalla family.
They dealt in many aspects of crime—extortion, gambling, drugs, counterfeiting, and money laundering. After acquiring enough evidence to obtain an arrest warrant, OCU coordinated a plan with TRF to serve the no-knock warrant. Both of them actively engaged in the tactical planning session the day before serving the warrant.
When the bust went down, it became apparent the crime family set up an ambush … aware they were coming. The only way that could’ve happened was if he or Alejandro told the Cazalla’s the plan. It wasn’t him, so by process of elimination, only Alejandro remained.
Jon still blamed himself for not realizing Alejandro sold out for money which caused higher casualties than initially anticipated in the execution of the raid. In the midst of the storm, Alejandro must’ve recognized the tide turning against the criminals and became desperate. Alejandro suddenly turned his gun on him. Stunned to find Alejandro’s gun pointed at his head, Jon was further shaken when Alejandro coldly stated his latest brainchild.
Alejandro decided to kill Jon and frame him as a traitor. Frozen as much by the betrayal as the barrel of the Glock, it took Jon a moment to register what happened when Alejandro’s body jerked and fell. Jason Gordon, in the Zulu position, happened to witness the repulsive scene and saved his life that day.
Internal Affairs determined Alejandro was on the take within a month of starting the undercover operation, which meant the cold, unreadable bastard double-crossed and lied to him for five months. After the impromptu wake-up call, Jon needed a change and applied for TRF. He was selected along with Burl Henderson to replace two retiring members of Alpha Team.
Jon blew out a breath, downed the last of the beer, and surged to his feet as resentment rose in him. He growled to no one, “Nick is wrong. Broderick is definitely like Burl and Alejandro, and he does not belong on my team. But I have no goddamned say in the matter. What the hell is Gambrill doing? How can I protect Nick, Bram, Lexa, Loki, and Ray from the unacceptable risks presented by an unreadable, cocky ex-soldier?”
Ignoring his protective hand wrap, fury needing a release, Jon slammed his fists into the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. He became lost in the physicality of pummeling the bag, driving harder and harder, struggling to quiet his mind enough so he could begin to figure out how to keep his team safe from one Daniel Broderick.
We’re All Human
24
September 15
Dan’s Apartment
Loud knocking on his door woke Dan, a
nd he tried to ignore the sound. When the banging persisted, he cautiously rolled out of bed and sluggishly trod from his bedroom wearing only a pair of sweatpants to peer through the peephole. Seeing his godfather, he unlocked and opened the door. “Sir, can I help you?”
Gambrill scrutinized the young man standing in the doorway. Before him stood a grieving man whose deep emotional wounds still festered instead of beginning to heal. The unmistakable weariness in his lackluster blue eyes reminded Walter of the little boy lost in grief and guilt mourning the death of a beloved sister.
Seeing Dan with his shirt off shocked him for several reasons. He knew Dan endured torture when held captive by terrorists, but dear God, he never imagined something this horrific. He noted the footprint bruising, and the bandage covering the knife wound too. Though what surprised him the most was how thin Dan had become. The sight of his godson wasting away slammed into his head, Walter was as guilty as the team in failing to see what was right in front of them. Thank goodness, I brought dinner with me.
Walter managed to smile. “I came to visit my godson. Seems he doesn’t like hospitals and signed out before he should. Are you going to keep me in the hall, or are you going to invite me in?”
Dan opened the door wider and stepped back to allow Gambrill entry. “Sorry, I can’t offer you a place to sit, sir. Haven’t gotten around to buying any furniture yet. Would you like a beer or water?”
Stepping inside, Walter scanned the barren apartment noting more reason for concern. In the two months Dan lived in Toronto, he had done nothing to turn this shell into a home. The emptiness troubled him.
Worried that commenting on Dan’s lack of furniture might push him further into depression, Walter kept things as light as possible. “Water would be fine. Dr. White called and said you left without your medication, so I fetched them. Thought you might be hungry and the doctor said you can’t take the meds on an empty stomach, so I picked up some Mongolian BBQ on my way.”
Dan went to the cabinet, retrieved his single glass, and filled it with tap water. When he turned, his godfather pulled out several containers and plastic utensils from the bags he set on the small island counter. The aroma made his mouth water. “Thanks.”
The two stood at the island and began their meal. Walter handed Dan his antibiotic pill and placed the painkillers on the counter in front of him. With good grace, Dan took the antibiotic but ignored the analgesics. Dan shunning the pain reliever didn’t surprise Walter. William briefly explained Dan had an aversion to pain medications and only took them if absolutely necessary.
Dan dug into the food. Hungry since the ham sandwich at the hospital was the only thing he had eaten today. Inconveniently, he left his billfold in his locker at headquarters and only had enough cash in his apartment to pay the cabbie. So he hadn’t expected to eat until tomorrow after retrieving his wallet and clearing out his TRF locker.
Halfway through dinner, Walter broke the silence. “Oh, I brought something else.” Fishing the items from the bottom of the bag, he said, “Your wallet, keys, and your TRF ID.”
“Thanks.” Dan’s distress increased, and he put down his plastic fork. Time to face the music for his actions. Holding Gambrill’s gaze, Dan said. “Sir, I’m sorry I failed you. You gave me a chance to start fresh. I doubt I will need my ID after today’s events. NRB will likely file charges against me in the friendly fire incident.” Dan held out his credentials to Gambrill.
Walter shook his head. “Put that away. No charges will be filed. It was a clean shoot. Things get messy in the real world. You understand better than most. We train and do the best we can, but we’re all human and can’t predict every outcome. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Not a single mistake in making the call to fire. However, you did make a few errors.”
Surprised at Gambrill’s words Dan only stared as thoughts ran rampant. How can he believe I did the right thing when I injured Ray? If he doesn’t think that’s an error, what miscalculations does he think I made? With uncertainty in his voice, Dan asked, “Sir, please explain.” He prepared himself for stinging words itemizing all his faults.
Gambrill’s voice became stern with a note of concern. “First and foremost, failing to inform your sergeant you were injured. He’s insightful but contrary to popular belief he can’t read minds. I’m well aware of your tendency to hide pain. Damn fool thing to do. Just like signing out against medical advice.”
If it were anyone but Dan, Walter would’ve added ‘your parents would be worried about you,’ but he comprehended Dan’s mixed up perceptions. And although the statement was true, Dan would never believe him. Instead, he said, “The way your teammates have treated you in the past few months and especially today is unacceptable by TRF standards and will not be tolerated. As such, I placed the entire team on unpaid leave for a week. Sergeant Pastore will be contacting you tomorrow or the next day to discuss recent events.”
Dan gaped at Gambrill dumfounded. He expected a severe dressing down of his failings, not statements regarding his welfare. When his stomach growled, Dan put another forkful of noodles and vegetables in his mouth.
Walter chuckled at the sound, glad he brought food. “As your commander, I expect you to rest this week and take the medication as prescribed by the doctor so you can come back strong and continue to make a difference. As your godfather, please tell me if there is anything I can do to help.”
On the spur of the moment, knowing his wife would wholeheartedly agree after he spoke to her, Walter said, “Harriet is preparing several meals for you which I will deliver tomorrow.”
Stunned, yet again, Dan stopped mid-way up with a bite of food. He wants me to return? My godmother is making me meals? Uncertain how to respond, Dan settled on, “Yes, sir. Please thank Mrs. Gambrill for her kindness for me. She really didn’t have to go to all the trouble.”
“No trouble at all. She’s happy to do it. We care a great deal for our godson. Oh, one word of warning though, Harriet’s Mexican food is on the bland side. Her enchiladas taste like they are smothered in tomato sauce. If I recall correctly, you like things spicy, so you’ll need some hot sauce. However, her meatball stroganoff biscuit casserole is marvelous.”
Walter decided to broach the topic to which he was unsure how Dan would react. “I’ve kept my distance and our association private as we agreed and will continue to do so if you want. However, I am not blind and realize the way I placed you on the team caused many of these problems. You’ve had a rough couple of months with Alpha Team. Things went differently than I anticipated. For that, I’m genuinely sorry.”
His expression earnest, Walter added, “Pastore and Hardy are decent men. Though Jon can be hardheaded on occasion, much like a few Broderick men I know, but he is an excellent tactical leader. You could learn a lot from him. I put you on that team because they are the best, but I realize they are human and fallible too. Please give them a little more time to adjust.”
Dan interrupted, “Sir, having a teammate forced on them isn’t the way things are done in TRF, unlike the military. I understand. Been with enough units to know it takes time. I’ll do my best to stay and not fail you, but if it becomes clear they can’t accept me, I will leave.”
Walter blew out a breath. “That’s all I can ask. Now it’s time you finished your meal and went back to bed. You look like you are about to fall over.” Then it dawned on him—he brought Dan his keys. “How’d you get in?”
Dan shrugged. “Advantages of Special Forces training.”
Walter chuckled and grinned. “I should’ve realized. Skills TRF constables possess too. Though usually, it results in a busted door.”
Shoveling in a huge bite, Dan only nodded. The two finished the meal in companionable silence. Hunger sated, Dan lowered his utensil, noting the vast amount of food still in the cartons. His godfather brought enough to feed a small army. “Thank you again for dinner. That hit the spot,” Dan said sincerely.
“My pleasure. Is there anything else you need tonight or somet
hing I can bring you tomorrow when I stop by with Harriet’s meals?”
“No, sir.” Dan yawned.
“If you think of anything, call me. You look wiped out. Time for you to go back to bed. I’ll put these away and lock up when I leave.”
“Sir, I can clean up.” Dan started to close the box nearest him, but Gambrill took it from his hand.
Walter refused to order Dan outside of work. The boy experienced enough of that with William. So he lay a hand on his shoulder and said, “As your concerned godfather, I’m asking you to please go rest. I can handle putting away a few containers.” His hand stayed in place until Dan acquiesced and shuffled to the bedroom. When the door opened, he glimpsed a mattress and sighed with relief. At least Dan purchased a bed and isn’t sleeping on the floor. He packed up the leftovers and put them in the fridge.
He shook his head at finding the appliance contained only two beers. Dan apparently didn’t cook for himself. Once I tell Harriet what’s in Dan’s fridge, she’ll be cooking up two weeks’ worth of meals for him. That thought made him grin. Harriet surely cares for Danny. His grin transformed to a frown at his next thought. She will be upset with me for not checking on Dan sooner. My only defense is I’m complying with Dan’s request for distance and treating him as I would any other officer.
Before he left, Walter peeked in the darkened bedroom. Dan appeared to be asleep, but he still said, “Goodnight, Dan.” Getting no response, Walter shut the door and quietly left.
Dan’s Apartment – Bedroom
Dan heard his godfather say goodnight. He appreciated what he did tonight, but Dan almost snorted at the word goodnight. Nights were never good. He woke from nightmares multiple times every single night, never getting more than a few hours of interrupted sleep.
Each night, he blew a hole in Brody’s chest over and over. Every night, Blaze, Winds, Patch, and Mason turned their backs and shunned him. Never speaking to him or looking him in the eyes. The men he loved, his brothers, his family, were ripped from him repeatedly leaving him alone in this world with his guilt.