Sanctuary Found_Pelican Bay [Book 2]

by Sloane Kennedy

  “Maddox, look at me!” I demanded.

  “Isaac?” Newt asked worriedly. “What’s wrong with Mad?” he whispered.

  I could tell he was scared. His fingers were buried in Loki’s fur and the animal began to whine. But as badly as I wanted to comfort my brother, I knew Maddox needed me more.

  “Maddox, eyes on me,” I practically snarled. My tone must have registered with the man because his gaze snapped to mine.

  “That’s good,” I said softly as I held his gaze. I reached down to wrap my hand around his fist. “We’re leaving,” I explained.

  I made sure it wasn’t a request.

  I swore he nodded at me, but I couldn’t be sure. I walked backward several steps, maintaining the eye contact with him. I noticed Loki and Newt following, which I was grateful for, because I didn’t want to take my attention off Maddox long enough to call to Newt.

  It seemed to take forever to clear the room and every time someone got too close to Maddox, I was terrified I’d lose the hold I had on him, both physically and metaphorically. But he seemed as desperate to cling to me as I needed him to. I wasn’t satisfied with just getting him to the hallway, since it was still noisy outside the room. But once the doors closed behind us, I did drop my eyes from him and turned so I could walk ahead of him rather than backward. I managed to get us out a side door and then headed toward the parking lot where Dallas’s truck was parked. The air was cold, but thankfully, it wasn’t snowing.

  I maneuvered Maddox so the bed of the truck was at his back in case he needed the extra support. At some point, he’d closed his fingers around my hand instead of the other way around. His grip was hard, but not painful.

  He began gulping in one lungful of air after another as he started to come back to himself. I used my free hand to rub his upper arm. The muscles there were still tight with tension.

  “Try to slow your breathing,” I told him. Every once in a while, Newt would have really bad dreams that left him breathless. Maddox’s behavior reminded me of that–it was like he was still stuck in that state of trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

  “Here, Mad,” Newt whispered as he shoved his Lightning car into Maddox’s now-lax hand. I could tell my brother was scared. Not of Maddox, but of the situation. I pulled Newt against my side and ran my fingers through his hair.

  “He’s okay, Newt. He was just having a bad dream,” I said. “Like you do, sometimes.”

  “But he wasn’t sleeping,” Newt said quietly as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

  “I know, buddy. But sometimes grown-ups get different kinds of nightmares than kids.”

  Newt seemed to accept the explanation. To Maddox, who’d become more alert, Newt said, “Isaac helps me get rid of the monsters, too. He’s really good at that.”

  Maddox’s eyes went from Newt to me. “I can see that,” he said softly. His voice sounded shaky, but he seemed looser than before.

  “Are you… are you okay?” I asked. “Can I get you something? Some water or something? I can go back in there—”

  I pointed to the building, but Maddox quickly said, “No, I’m okay. Thanks.” He shifted awkwardly back and forth, then straightened. “I need to be going.”

  “What?” I asked in surprise. “Don’t you want to wait for your brother?”

  He didn’t answer me. Instead, he said to Newt, “Thank you for what you did for Loki in there, Newt. You were really brave.”

  Newt beamed at the compliment. “You’re welcome, Mad.”

  I wasn’t sure, but Maddox seemed to briefly smile at the nickname. When his eyes shifted to me, I felt my insides drop out. Now that the initial concern had passed, that thing was there again. That constant flicker beneath my skin that told me this man was dangerous to me.

  But not in the normal way.

  No, in a whole other way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

  Maddox held my gaze for a moment, then he turned and walked away. He didn’t head for any of the cars parked in the lot. Instead, he walked toward the back of the property. I’d seen that section of the building when we’d arrived and there was no parking lot back there. I hadn’t seen any cars parked on the street, either.

  So where was he going?

  Rather than return inside, Newt and I stayed by the truck while he regaled me with the story of how he’d saved Loki, as if I hadn’t been there to witness the whole thing. While we waited for the others, a few people approached us, but their interest was in Loki. I watched as my little brother explained to people how gentle Loki was and that they could pet him if they wanted. By the time Dallas, Nolan, and Sawyer came out, Newt had become a self-proclaimed expert on wolves.

  Dallas frantically began typing on his phone when they reached us, but I put my hand over his phone to stop him, because I knew what he wanted to know.

  “He left,” I said. I pointed to the back of the building. “That way.”

  “What? On foot?” Sawyer asked.

  I nodded.

  “Weird,” the vet murmured.

  “Why is that weird?” Nolan asked.

  “Because he got a ride here with Deputy Miller. I just assumed he’d leave with him.”

  I hadn’t seen the deputy leave, but with the two police vehicles still parked in the lot, I had to assume the deputy was inside with the council members. Probably still being yelled at by Sheriff Tulley.

  God, I hoped the jerk got what was coming to him.

  “Okay, maybe he’s back at the center,” Nolan read from Dallas’s phone. To Sawyer, Nolan said, “Do you need a ride?”

  Sawyer shook his head. “No, I’ve got my car. I’ve got an injured deer I want to check on over in Greene County. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  We said our goodbyes and piled into Dallas’s truck. I tried to listen in on Newt’s retelling of the evening’s events, but I was too distracted. As we pulled out of the parking lot and turned right and drove past the back of the town hall building, my eyes fell on the single set of footprints marring the perfectly fallen snow. I kept my eyes out for Maddox the entire drive back to the center, but I knew he wouldn’t be there.

  And I was right.

  But the question that kept me up most of the night long after Newt had fallen asleep next to me was, where the hell was he?

  Right after that came another question that equally had no answer.

  Why do I care so much?

  Chapter Five

  Maddox

  There was something about the sound of snow crunching beneath my boots that soothed me in a way that little else could. It was different than when you were walking on sand. Even walking in the deepest snow felt easier than walking on uneven sand.

  Of course, that probably had more to do with the fact that walking on snow meant the likelihood of coming under sniper fire was unlikely. I supposed that feeling would have been different if my unit had been tasked to follow our enemy into the mountainous regions of the Middle East where snow was more common. So, there was that particular silver lining in coming back to Pelican Bay.

  Because it was about as different from the hot, dry desert that had become my home… and my hell… for the past several years as you could get.

  It was an odd thing to feel so rudderless. Growing up with parents who never seemed to have a plan meant that was all I’d ever wanted to have.

  Graduate West Point.

  Serve my country in active combat.

  Work my way up the ranks to general with a post that preferably kept me as far from Pelican Bay as possible.

  But all that had changed when I’d learned of the accident that had taken my mother’s life, left my father paralyzed from the waist down, and put my little brother in a coma that would take him a full month to recover from.

  I could still remember the sounds of the machines surrounding his motionless body as I’d sat by his bedside day after day waiting for him to wake up. I’d begged, bargained, and cursed him more times than I could count, all in the hopes he
’d just all of a sudden open his eyes, see me staring at him, and give me some sign that he was back and he was there to stay. I hadn’t cared what condition he’d been left in, I’d vowed to take care of him no matter what.

  And then one day my wish had come true and Dallas had opened his eyes. There’d been no recognition in them for the few seconds he’d managed to keep them open, but as they’d drifted shut and I’d told him I was going to be right there by his side when he woke up again, he’d squeezed my hand just a little. And that was when I’d known everything would be okay.

  Only it hadn’t been.

  And I hadn’t kept my silent promise to him and God that I’d always take care of him if he would just wake up–not once I’d learned the truth about what he’d done.

  I’d broken the promise I’d made to him when we’d been children, too.

  Because I’d never had his back again after that. I’d merely walked out of his life, leaving him to care for our disabled father, and I’d never looked back. Not until after our father had died two years later. And then I’d been a man on a mission.

  I’d let all the rage and hatred and betrayal mix into this dark, ugly thing inside of me that I’d never been able to let go. Instead of just walking away from Dallas again, I’d needed him to hurt like I hurt, so I’d used one of the few weapons I had against him.

  Our parents’ inheritance.

  Which, in hindsight, had been utterly ridiculous because Dallas had never been enamored of the money, not like our parents had been. Yes, like me, he’d enjoyed the things like getting a new car when we were old enough to drive and being handed a stack of money if there was ever something in particular that we wanted, but he’d never really flaunted the fact that we were so much more well-off than the kids we went to school with. Even when we’d moved to Pelican Bay and our parents built the atrocious house overlooking town, Dallas hadn’t advertised the fact that he came from money. His focus had been baseball, baseball, baseball.

  Like me, his plan had been to get out of Pelican Bay and away from our parents all along. And just like me, his entire life had changed in an instant when fate had finally caught up to our parents and their incessant need to drink. But unlike me, Dallas hadn’t had a way out anymore after the accident. He’d been abandoned and betrayed by those who should have been watching out for him. His career had been left in ruins, and the town that had once adored him had turned on him instead. All the support that should have gone to Dallas had been showered on me instead.

  I’d become that “poor Kent boy” who’d lost his family and Dallas had become a whole host of other things.

  Killer.

  Disappointment.

  Freak.

  I hadn’t stuck around at the time to know those were the titles that had been cast upon my brother after the “truth” had come out, but I’d learned them easily enough in the few weeks I’d been back in town. Up until last night, whenever I’d run into someone I knew, they’d tsk-tsk and tell me what a shame what had happened to me was.

  I’d become the saint and Dallas the villain and our parents had been the martyrs.

  And it had all been a big fucking lie.

  One I’d perpetuated.

  I shook my head as the perpetual nausea in my belly grew. If I’d only heard Dallas out…

  Even if he hadn’t told me the truth when I’d confronted him, if I’d looked hard enough, I would have seen it in his eyes. I would have known there was no way he could have done what our father had said that he had. But I hadn’t been able to get past the sense of betrayal that he’d done the one thing he’d promised me he’d never do–that we’d promised each other we’d never do–drive drunk.

  I hadn’t known which of my parents had been driving the car when Alex Miller had finally shown up at my house the night Loki had been taken away. But one look at the pictures of the smashed-up vehicle and I’d known.

  It’d been my mother.

  She’d been considerably shorter than my father and from the position of both the steering wheel and the front seat, I’d known she was the one driving. Not that it had really mattered–if the situation had been reversed and our mother had asked Dallas to protect the memory of our father, he’d have done it.

  Because it was like I’d said at the meeting the night before.

  Dallas protects those he loves.

  While I let them down.

  I sighed and scanned my surroundings. I’d been walking for a good three hours and while I wasn’t too far from the sanctuary, I had no plans to go there. I was relieved I’d managed to get my brother his beloved pet back the night before and that the town finally knew the truth about him, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that had earned me any kind of pass with Dallas.

  I didn’t want one.

  Just like in Mosul, I’d made the wrong call and others had paid for it.

  There were just some things that no amount of being sorry for could fix.

  The reminder had me pulling out my phone. I searched out the number I wanted, but not surprisingly, there was no answer when I dialed it.

  Fuck, I knew what that meant.

  I waited for the voicemail to pick up and said, “You better call me back, asshole. Because if you don’t, it means I have to get my ass on a bus and come down there to check on you. And you know what kind of mood that’s going to put me in.”

  I hung up and waited. Sure enough, not three minutes later, my phone rang. I didn’t look at the caller ID because even if I hadn’t just called him, Jett was the only guy I talked to anymore.

  “I’m fine,” Jett snapped before I could even say hello.

  I doubted he was fine. It’d been less than three months since the man’s entire life had changed.

  Or, as he saw it… ended.

  “You going to PT?” I asked.

  “You going to the head shrink?” he responded.

  I sighed and said, “Just get your ass up here, Jett. I’ll send a fucking private jet for you.”

  The old Jett would have laughed and called me a pretty, rich white boy or spewed some crap about how my kind didn’t belong on his kind’s side of the tracks. This Jett didn’t do anything other than whisper, “I’m tired, Maddox. You just caught me going to bed.”

  More like I was catching him still in bed.

  Despite being his commanding officer and growing up in two very different worlds, Jett was the closest thing I had to a best friend. The product of a black mother and white father, Jett had been fighting battles long before he and I had become roommates at West Point. While I’d been a shoo-in because of my father’s powerful connections, Jett had had to fight tooth and nail for his chance to be accepted into the elite program, specifically the ever-important nomination that was a requirement to even be considered for admission. While I’d practically had my pick of senators to provide the nomination, Jett had had to struggle to even get noticed long enough by his state’s local senator to be considered for a nomination.

  But he’d done it.

  And once he’d gotten to West Point, he’d made it clear to the world that even though his mixed race may have played some role in being accepted to the diversity-loving academy, he knew he deserved to be there and he’d worked just as hard, if not harder, than the rest of us.

  Jett and I’d had big plans for the future, and they’d all come to a screeching halt one hot day a few months earlier when I’d gone with the intelligence I’d been given, rather than my gut.

  Ten men had paid for the oversight. Jett and I were the only ones who’d survived the roadside bomb and subsequent ambush that my commanding officer had assured me wouldn’t be there.

  “My grandma’s calling me,” Jett added. It wasn’t like I’d actually thought he’d take me up on my offer anyway. God knew I’d made it enough times after we’d been discharged.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Call me later.”

  We both knew he wouldn’t.

  He didn’t even bother to agree or say goodbye. He just
hung up. Despite Jett’s repeated reassurances that he didn’t blame me for anything, I knew there had to be a part of him that did. And even if there wasn’t, just looking at me would be enough to remind him of everything he’d lost.

  Because while we’d both been diagnosed with PTSD, at least I still had my legs and could literally walk away from the truth.

  Jett, not so much.

  I tucked my phone back into my pocket and drew in several deep breaths to try and calm myself. My legs burned from the hours I’d been walking, but not enough to make the lead weight in my chest go away.

  I also couldn’t stop thinking about those moments where my secret had been exposed for the world to see.

  Fortunately, “the world” had been too busy going crazy over the fact that Dallas had been so grievously misjudged and maligned.

  But my near panic attack hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

  A fact I was both unhappy about, and thankful for.

  Unhappy because somehow having Isaac to have been the one who’d not only recognized I was in trouble, but gotten me out of that room, was like a punch to the gut, though I didn’t know why. But I was also thankful because I’d been on the verge of completely losing it–something I’d only done once before that’d had dire consequences. Since then, I’d learned to recognize my symptoms more readily, and more importantly, I did all I could to avoid them. The people hadn’t been too much of an issue the night before, though being around crowds wasn’t my favorite thing in the world.

  No, it’d been the gavel.

  I hadn’t been expecting it. I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to hold out as long as I had when that thing had started its banging, but there was no doubt in my mind that it’d been Isaac’s voice and his gentle touch that’d kept me from completely losing it. While I hadn’t been so far gone that I’d believed my life was in danger, I’d hung onto Isaac like it had been.

  Because I never would have gotten out of that room without him.

  At least not of my own volition and without hurting someone.