by S. M. Butler
Jordan didn’t remember much of the ride from the city. Mostly, he remembered the pain throbbing from the bullet in his leg. It radiated out like a nuclear bomb over him, taking over every nerve end in his body. Scott had dumped him at the back entrance to the lair and left as soon as Jack had shown up, but like Jordan cared if he stuck around?
He gripped the sides of the hospital bed in the infirmary, gritting his teeth as Jack inspected the wound. He really didn’t want Jack anywhere near him, but Bea was on her way, so he just had to hang on and hope Jack didn’t amputate his leg before she got here. Nurturing wasn’t in the guy’s skillset, after all. His previous job had been an enforcer for the Giroux family. Jordan was well aware of the type of people the Giroux employed.
Jack frowned and looked lost as he pressed the dressing back on the wound. Yeah, that about said it all, didn’t it?
“What?” Jordan snapped.
Jack looked like he was going to answer when Bea walked in.
Thank God.
“What happened?” she demanded.
Jordan let out a sigh of relief as his best friend pushed Jack out of the way without a word. She lifted the dressing up for a second, scrutinizing what she saw in a split second, and set it back down. When she didn’t say anything immediately, he met her gaze. “You can tell me the truth, love. Is it bad? Am I going to lose my leg?”
Her eyebrows pinched together with the annoyed patience she always had with him. “If I told you that you were going to lose your leg, would you cry?”
Jordan blinked. “What?” Jordan couldn’t help the way his voice raised pitch at the end. His leg? No, he couldn’t lose that. Surely there were other ways to fix this. Wasn’t that why they’d put that damn Reaper matrix in his body?
Both she and Jack laughed. She shook her head. “Idiot. I’m not going to tell you that. It’s fine. A lot of blood, but it didn’t hit anything major. From what I could see, it’s not arterial bleeding either.”
“You’re a real bitch, you know that, Bea?”
Jack chuckled. “I knew there was a reason I liked her.”
Her mouth turned up at the corner. Figured the former assassin would find that amusing. “Don’t be a baby, Jordan.”
“I’m not,” he protested.
This was a complication. One second, he’d been fine, working his way through the damn vault. He’d let Scott in, he’d worked his computer shit, and then they’d discovered the inner vault was actually an underground section. They’d gone down the proverbial rabbit hole and Scott had discovered the computer room. It was dumb luck on their way out that they’d happen upon the world’s most Overzealous Security Guard.
The fucker hadn’t even asked questions, just pulled a gun and started shooting. Now, he had a hole in his leg, and it was possible that his leg wouldn’t ever be one hundred percent again. Bea said it wasn’t bad, but what if there were complications getting that bullet out? What if they really did have to take his leg?
What the fuck would he do with his life? He’d given everything up to be a Reaper. Literally, his life. If he couldn’t do this, then what was he left with? Did the Reaper gig come with a retirement plan?
Fucking amateur cops. That’s what building security was. Fucking amateurs carrying guns they had no business carrying. Did they not understand the basic concept that guns hurt and kill? This was why he didn’t carry a fucking gun.
Bea pressed a new dressing against the side of his calf, sending another round of pain through his leg and pulling him right out of his thoughts.
He groaned loudly.
“You’ll be all right. Gonna need to knock you out so we can get the bullet extracted, though.”
“Can’t you just numb it?” Going unconscious wasn’t something high on his list. A holdover from his old life, from the last time he’d been knocked out.
“Knocking you out is for me,” she replied, though he knew it was a lie. “Otherwise, I might murder you. You whine too much.”
“I’m hurt that you’d cut me like that, Bea,” he replied, flashing her his best fake smile. “But I’ll do it for you.” Knocking him out was as much for him as it was for her. His tendency to panic in the throes of medicated fogs last time he’d been hurt ended up with his hand wrapped around Nathan’s doctor’s throat.
“Shut your fucking face, Levi.” Jack Allen stood in the doorway, that lost look he’d just sported replaced with his regular fuck-the-world expression. “Knocking you out is for everyone, not just her. I’d rather do it than the drugs, though.” He cracked his fists and grinned. “You game?”
“I’ll pass,” Jordan said, clenching his teeth. Bea grabbed his hand and slapped it over the dressing she’d just put there.
“Hold your hand there.”
“Why?”
“Because it gives you something to do rather than irritate me,” Bea replied. She stopped and met him in the eyes. “Listen, I’m not a doctor. But that bullet’s not lodged very deep. I can remove it myself. Or, I can dress it and we can wait for Nathan to send his doctor. Your choice.”
Nathan’s doctor reported to Nathan. What if the doctor found that Jordan would be unable to continue in his duties as a Reaper? What would happen to him then? There was a clause in the contract that talked about when a Reaper was no longer able to perform the job they had been recruited for. His or her fate was to be determined by the administrator of the program. Which was Nathan.
Jordan did not want his life decided for him by Nathan Hawk. Not ever again.
“I could cut your leg off and that would solve the issue.” Jack added helpfully from the doorway.
Jordan glared at him. “Do you practice being a prick or is that just natural for you?”
“Al naturel, buddy,” Jack grinned.
“Jack, go sit outside if you’re going to be a douchecanoe,” Bea commanded.
Jack shook his head and grinned wider. “Nah, I’m here to help.”
“Fuck me, I’m dead,” Jordan said, leaning back against the bed. “Bea, let’s do this. I’m going to gut myself if I have to listen to Jack’s voice anymore.”
Bea didn’t waste any time. She set up the IV and jabbed him in the arm like a pro. His vision swam as he tried to focus on where Jack stood. Of all the guys, falling unconscious in front of Jack Allen made him the most uncomfortable. But Bea was his best friend and he’d have let her carve him up all she wanted. Particularly if it made the pulsing pain in his leg stop.
He turned toward her, gripping her wrist, and pointed at Jack with his free hand, though his vision had begun to spin, and he no longer knew if he was actually pointing at the man. “If he tries to kill me, kill him back, would you?”
“You fucking baby,” she laughed. “You’re going to be fine.”
But as the drugs took hold and his vision began to fade to black, fear gripped him tightly, wrapping cold as ice around his lungs, his heart. For a split second, he was back in that dark room, sweating out precious fluid he couldn’t spare, pain radiating all through his torso as that tire iron swung at him again. Panic sliced right through his courage, burning so hot it was freezing as it took over his body. He thrashed, trying to stay conscious. The white ceiling was too close, and it closed in on him at the same time the walls did.
His world shrunk down into a narrow tunnel, while everything else was way too big. Bea said something that didn’t track. Pain bolstered him as he fought to get away from… hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to get away from. Just that he needed to run. Then Jack was over him, holding him down. The panic roared louder than a foghorn in his ears as he fought against the hold on him.
But then the drug won, and he was in the black, floating weightlessly into unconsciousness.
~*~*~
Penny stared at the tiny little house that was both familiar and strange to her. The house she’d grown up still had paint still chipping on the outside, but that was to be expected with the decade-old coat on the siding. But the porch looked like it had been
newly worked on. The old swing that had broken when she was eight was hanging right again, with new chains and even the bolts holding it looked new and reinforced. Boards on the porch floor had been replaced, some obviously newer than others.
Someone had been working on the house lately. Tessa wasn’t a handy sort. But as Penny stepped up onto the porch, the answer came to her. Joe Hannigan. It was just the sort of thing he would do. He’d fixed Mary Jo Parker’s fence last year and months before that, it’d fixed Mr. Gardner’s plumbing issues because Mr. Gardner couldn’t bend under the sink anymore.
And… He was dating Tessa. Though Tessa hadn’t said it, that was no promise ring on her finger. That was a full-fledged engagement ring. Her sister had been dating the man for a while. Penny hadn’t even seen it coming. They were getting married. Her sister and the sheriff. Married.
Penny pulled the screen door open and pushed the front door away from her. It opened easily, its hinges still squeaking as it opened. At least some things were the same. She set her bag down by the door, letting the screen door bang shut behind her.
The living room looked almost exactly the same as she remembered it. Same couch. Same coffee table. Same pictures over the fireplace of her and Tessa over the years. She stepped over to them, looking at the one of her mother and the two of them. All smiles. That had been the first time she’d ridden a horse. In the background was Doctor Betty, an older woman who had no children of her own, holding a horse’s bridle. She took care of the town’s animals, from poodles to horses to cattle. She was who Penny had been supposed to replace, before she’d gone off the town’s rails and dropped out of school just before she was supposed to start vet school.
Tessa hadn’t really changed much in the place, had she? All the furniture was the same. The pictures on the wall of her and Tessa still the same. All the little knick-knacks that Mom had loved were still sitting along the mantle and on bookshelves around the room.
But Penny stood there feeling like a stranger. Though she’d grown up here, though so much of it was still the same… Penny wasn’t the same. This wasn’t her house anymore. This wasn’t home for her. Not that her stupid little apartment in the city was home either.
No, standing there in the living room of the house where she’d grown up, Penny was lost. Her stomach rolled as she took in the little knick-knacks, the magazines on the coffee table, the coffee cups on the end tables next to the couch.
This was Tessa’s house. She’d made it her own, her home. And Penny had bailed on it.
Home was a concept utterly foreign to her. This wasn’t home—not anymore—and she feared that the longer she was here, she’d never be able to find her way to home. Wherever that was.
11
Jordan stared at the white tiled ceiling, refusing to move. Every part of his body hurt but that wasn’t why he didn’t move. He liked the sudden quiet. He was alone, none of his team around, no phone ringing with the next mission, nothing to do but wallow in his own thoughts.
Even so, he still hated that quiet as well. It was a bit like having an itch where you couldn’t reach it and it wouldn’t go away, no matter how many times you tried to scratch it.
Being alone never bothered him before, but now it grated on him.
He moved finally, groaning as he pushed himself up to his elbows. Out of habit, he checked over his body.
Two arms. Check.
Fucked up chest? Check.
Legs?
He glanced down at his leg. The bottom half of his leg was wrapped up completely How bad had it really been? Bea had said it wasn’t bad. Fuck. Did Jack really try to take off his leg? He wiggled his toes and winced. Okay, they had to still be there. Phantom pains didn’t hurt that much, right?
He pressed his palm to his chest, the ridges of the scars scraping against his skin. The mission had gone wrong so very fast. They’d expected a vault behind that door, not a corridor that had led down underground. They’d found the computer room, but that had been the beginning on the wrong turns.
They’d been able to erase the security feeds; he was pretty certain. But Scott hadn’t had time to get into the access logs on the outer vault, when they’d been on their way out. Jordan had pushed him to do it, so that maybe they didn’t have to compromise Penny, but then that damn amateur security guard had shown up and started shooting with shaking hands and they’d had to run before he’d accidentally hit vital organs.
When the door creaked open, he slid his attention to Bea as she came in. Her expression was scrutinizing, as if she were searching for something. Then she scowled and tossed something at him. “Here, idiot.”
He caught the fabric effortlessly. It was his shirt, his favorite one, the blue with the birds. He smiled. “You do love me.” More likely, she understood his need to keep his scars under wraps. Not that the team didn’t know about then, didn’t see them, but why subject them to seeing the ugliness of his past right on display?
She rolled her eyes. “I just washed that eye sore for you, but that’s all. Let’s not get carried away.”
He grinned at her. “Thanks. It’s my favorite.”
“You need a better wardrobe.”
She sunk into the nearby chair as he shrugged it over his shoulders, taking his time to button it up. The fabric was still warm against his skin, smooth and soft. He took in his teammate as she watched him silently. It wasn’t often that she did this, come sit with one of them by herself. She’d only recently started coming to movie night. She was even less of a team player than he was, actually.
Or that’s how she had been. She’d almost died a few months ago, tortured by her old mentor. Ever since, her and Axel Martinez had been inseparable, and she seemed happy with the mechanic… But she was still fucking grumpy ninety-nine percent of the time.
Turned out good sex didn’t solve all problems.
Who knew?
Bea’s scowl deepened as she surveyed him silently.
“You look like you want to say something, love,” he said, sitting himself up the rest of the way. He rolled his shoulders back. Muscles were a bit sore, but no injuries besides the damn leg. Thank goodness for the Reaper matrix. Healing would be much faster than normal speed.
“Maybe.”
When she didn’t expound on that, he stopped, looking at her. Those black orbs narrowed on his gaze. He sighed. “Well? Let’s it out in the open, then.”
“This was pretty reckless, Jordan,” she said. “Even for you.”
“Wasn’t my call. I follow orders, just like the rest of you.”
“Are you serious right now?” She shook her head, disbelief flooding her expression. “You went in without backup. Without a real plan.”
“Had a plan,” he replied. “When shit went south, I’d call you. Which I did.”
“Did Nathan put you up to this? And what about Scott Muldoon? Jack said he was the one who dropped you at the back door and took off without a word.”
“Look, it was a simple infiltration job.”
“Nothing is simple in our world, Jordan.”
“Muldoon wasn’t my call,” Jordan said. “My job was to get him in, let him do his thing, and get him out.”
“And what exactly was that?”
He opened his mouth… then shut it again. He sighed. “Yeah… You’ll have to ask Bridget and Nathan about that.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Don’t think I won’t.”
He let out a long breath through his nose. “It’s just a scratch, Bea. I’m going to be fine.”
He wasn’t completely sure that was the case. And it was clear from Bea’s dark expression, she wasn’t sure either. “Will you?”
“Yeah,” he replied, pulling his own mask back on. The same mask that kept the world from knowing just how bad his mind was fucked. “Thank you for coming so fast, Bea. It’s appreciated.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, smugness lifting one side of her lips. “You’re off duty for the next six weeks.”
“What
?” He stared at her. “You don’t have the authorization for that.”
“Nathan’s orders, actually,” she said. He could have punched the smugness right off her face if he wasn’t completely sure that she could gut him in two seconds flat. She let a smile grow on her face. “He called while you were asleep. After he heard my report, he said you’re off for six weeks or he can find an alternative way to make sure you take the time off.”
“I’m grounded?” He couldn’t have masked the incredulous tone of his voice if he tried. “What am I, a child?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
“Oh, fuck you, Bea,” he snapped.
“Not my type.” She moved into the room and sat down on the stool across from his bed. “He’s maybe not wrong, Jordan.”
“Et tu, Bruté?” He pressed his hand over his heart dramatically.
“Seriously, you’ve been working a lot lately, going from one job to the next. You’re exhausted. This job is proof of that. You should have been able to avoid that security guard. You know better. And don’t even get me started on Scott Muldoon. Dumb as fuck.”
“Says the one that was doing freelance assassinations for Nathan for over a year without telling anyone.”
“That just proves I know what I’m talking about,” Bea replied. Jordan glared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or more likely, she didn’t care. “How long has it been since you took a break? A real break?”
He didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t remember. After killing off his life as a very successful thief, it was easier to jump right into the new life of a Reaper. Of course, when you wake up screaming in pain right after being recruited into a super-secret agency that operated outside of every government control, there wasn’t much choice except to jump.
“That’s what I thought,” she said, taking his silence as her answer. “Your biggest problem now is how are you going to spend all this free time while you’re healing?”
“You offering?”
“Not likely, you skinny piece of shit,” she replied.
He clasped his hands over his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me, milady.”