Hero of Mine

by Codi Gary

  On the way back to Alpha Dog, they stopped off to grab Taco Bell, and when the boys started making jokes about the cafeteria food, Blake threatened to tell their head cook. Tyler grinned as he drove, chalking today in the win column.

  He parked in front and got out to open the door. The boys filed out, and he just happened to glance down the sidewalk.

  And into the hate-filled stare of Carlos Mendez.

  Tyler pushed through the boys when he saw the gun and said, “All of you get down.”

  Tyler put his hands up, hoping to make himself a big enough target so Carlos wouldn’t think about the other boys. A cold sweat covered his whole body as he looked down the barrel of that gun, the pain and panic coming back to him like a flash flood.

  “What now, motherfucker? You thought you could disrespect me and I would just go down like a little bitch?”

  “No, I didn’t think that. But I also didn’t expect you to show up at a military-run building with a firearm.”

  “Shows what you know, huh, puta? You think you’re so bad, but looks like I got you pissing your pants. What you got to say now?”

  Tyler took a step toward him, and Carlos told him to back up. Faces flashed through Tyler’s head as he tried to stall. His parents, Zoe and Dereck, his aunts, uncles, and cousins . . .

  Dani and Noah.

  But he couldn’t think about that. Not when there were a dozen kids in his care, boys he was supposed to protect.

  “Look, you want me, you got me. But let everyone else go inside.”

  “You mean those other shitheads that laughed at me? Nah, I think they’ll stay. I got an extra clip just for them.”

  “You haven’t hurt anyone yet, Carlos. You can walk. You’re only sixteen. Your whole life ahead of you. I’ll speak to the judge about leniency—”

  “Sure, you want to talk now that I got you by the balls. Go ahead, talk. Not going to save you.”

  “Except this is murder. If you do this, you’ll have taken fourteen lives. You’ll get life or worse, the death penalty. Do you really want that? Don’t you want to open that custom car shop with your little brother?”

  Tyler thanked God he’d read Carlos’s file several times. Carlos had had dreams and aspirations. It was why they’d picked him for the program in the first place.

  Only Carlos’s dark gaze didn’t hold anything except emptiness.

  “Enrique bit it last night. Got shot by the cops last night when he pulled a piece. Stupid fucker tried to boost a car by himself.” Tyler could hear the pain in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it.

  “Carlos, I’m sorry, but you don’t want this—”

  “Don’t tell me what I want!” he screamed, spittle flying. “Maybe I’m planning on ending this today. What do you think about that? No jail, no death penalty. Just me going down and taking you assholes with me.”

  If that was his plan, Tyler had a choice. He could rush him and try to tackle him before he got a shot off, or he could try to keep him talking and hope help would show up.

  The decision was made for him when someone raced from the other side of the van toward Carlos.

  Jeremiah Walton.

  The kid was fast, but he wasn’t as fast as a bullet.

  Just as Carlos turned toward Jeremiah, Tyler rushed him, ignoring the pain in his knee every time his feet hit the pavement. It seemed as though he was running in slow motion, and his gut wrenched as Carlos took a shot at Jeremiah. It must have gone wide, because the thin kid kept going, plowing into Carlos. The two of them were grappling for the gun, and then a loud pop echoed around them.

  Tyler reached them just as Carlos pushed Jeremiah off him, his hands covered in red.

  Tyler wasn’t thinking as he clocked Carlos across the jaw and snatched the gun. He threw it across the lawn.

  “Blake, get him!”

  Tyler knelt next to Jeremiah, putting pressure on the wound. Blood oozed up between his fingers, and his hands shook as he chanted.

  “Please. Please. Please.”

  The sound of sirens in the distance broke through the adrenaline pounding in his ears, and he whispered, “Hang in there, Jeremiah. They’re coming.”

  TYLER SAT IN the hospital waiting area alone. He’d called Jeremiah’s mom on the way to the hospital and gotten her voicemail. That was hours ago, and Jeremiah was still in surgery. The bullet had gone through the right side of his chest, but they were worried about a collapsed lung.

  God, while he’d been waiting to make his move, he’d been saved by a fourteen-year-old kid. One who had already been through the seven circles of hell in his short life.

  Holding his face in his hands, he tried to concentrate on just breathing and drawing deep, calming breaths.

  “Sergeant Best?”

  Tyler’s head swung up, and the surgeon who had taken Jeremiah up stood in the doorway. She was a short Asian woman with a blank expression that scared the hell out of him.

  “Is he all right?” he asked.

  “Is his mother here yet?”

  “No, not yet. Please, can you just tell me—”

  “He was very lucky. We were able to repair the damage to his lung, and barring any further complications, he should make a full recovery. He needs to rest, but if you would like to check on him tomorrow, that should be fine.”

  Tyler held his hand out, and the doctor took it with a smile.

  “Thank you so much. The kid is a hero.”

  “So I heard. I’m sure his mother will be proud.”

  Just at the mention of the woman who had chosen a man over her own kid, Tyler’s vision blurred with a red fog. He didn’t even remember driving to the Walton family home until he was standing on their doorstep, pounding on the front door.

  A barrel-chested man answered the door, and the scent of pot wafted out, hitting Tyler full in the face.

  “I need to speak with Virginia Walton.”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m the man who has no problem kicking the shit out of a woman-beating dickhead. Get Virginia. Now.”

  “Maybe I’ll just call the cops—”

  “Who is it, Neil?” a woman’s voice called from inside the house.

  “Some army dick who thinks he can tell me what to do in my own home.”

  Suddenly, a pale, heavyset woman pushed into the doorway. “Jeremiah?”

  “Your son is at Sutter Memorial. He was shot today and just got out of surgery about an hour ago.”

  “Oh God.” Her eyes filled with tears, and Tyler’s attitude toward her softened a bit.

  “I called your cell phone and left a voicemail.”

  “It . . . it’s broken.” Her gaze shifted toward Neil, and Tyler had a feeling Jeremiah’s absence hadn’t made it easier for her.

  “How’d the little queer get himself shot, anyway?” Neil asked, unaware of how close Tyler was to beating the ever-loving shit out of him.

  Tyler grabbed Neil by his throat and squeezed until the man’s face turned red.

  “Don’t call him that ever again.”

  “You’re hurting him,” Virginia whimpered.

  Just as Neil was starting to turn purple, Tyler pushed him away. The fat man stumbled back and fell into a table before he hit the floor.

  Tyler spared Virginia one last disgusted look. “Your son was a hero today. He saved over a dozen lives . . . and you picked that piece of shit over him.”

  That seemed to wake her up, and fury blazed through her dark eyes. “Get out of here!”

  He let her slam the door in his face, shaking all over as the events of the day finally sank in. He got in his car and drove back to Alpha Dog to grab Duke.

  As he walked through the door, everyone stared at him. It wasn’t until he got to his office that he realized why.

  His shirt and pants were painted dark with Jeremiah’s blood.

  Tyler grabbed his spare fatigues from his desk drawer and was in the middle of stripping off his T-shirt when someone knocked.

  �
�Who is it?”

  “Sparks.”

  “Hang on, I’m changing.” He finished changing his pants and called out, “Enter.”

  Sparks’s face was a mask of concern. “How’s Jeremiah?”

  “He’ll live. Not as if his family gives a shit.”

  Sparks searched his face and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I need to spin any kind of damage control?”

  “I barely choked the douche bag.”

  “Well, I’m on orders from General Reynolds to put you on medical leave for a week. You’ll need to go see a psychiatrist and have them clear you to come back.”

  “I’m fine, Sparks. Just pissed off.”

  It was true, he was, but not at Carlos or Jeremiah. Hell, not even at that dick, Neal.

  Tyler was angry with himself. He should have acted sooner, taken out Carlos so Jeremiah hadn’t tried.

  “Regardless, you’re on leave. We’ll shift things around to handle your squad. And don’t forget to set up the appointment—”

  “Sparks, get the fuck out of my office.”

  Sparks didn’t argue, just started to leave.

  As an afterthought, Tyler asked, “Hey, how’re Blake and the other kids? Are they okay?”

  “Yeah, Blake is shaken up, and given his history, I can’t blame him. The boys have just been asking about Jeremiah. Might be nice if you went out and gave them an update.”

  Jesus, he could barely keep it together now, but to go out there and talk to the guys?

  He pulled up his big-boy pants and went into the study hall, where the guys sat doing their schoolwork. The minute they saw him, they all stood up and started talking at once.

  “Is Jeremiah okay? Did you see him? Is Carlos going to prison?”

  He held up his hands, and they quieted. “Jeremiah is going to be okay. He had a collapsed lung, but the doctors have repaired it, and barring further complications, he should be fine. I’m going to stop by and check on him tomorrow.”

  “Can I go, too, Sarge?” Meyers asked.

  “Well, I can’t take all of you, but if it’s okay with everyone else, you can represent the squad. Maybe you guys can do something for Jeremiah. I know you like to think you’re big tough guys, but it would go a long way to helping Jeremiah recover.”

  Tyler took a deep breath before moving onto the next order of business. “Now, if you haven’t heard already, Sergeant Sparks has put me on medical leave for a week. This means one of the other instructors is going to take over for me, and if I hear one thing about you giving them a bad time, I will be back here and making you do up-downs until you’re blue in the face. Is that clear?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” they all chorused.

  “Good.”

  “Hey, Sarge, did you get hurt? Is that why you’re on leave?” Hank asked.

  “No, I’m on leave so I can get my head shrunk. They just want to make sure I’m not going to lose my shit.”

  “Are you? Going to lose your shit?” Harlow asked.

  Good question.

  “Of course not. I’m gonna be fine.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  DANI PUT THE finishing touches on the romantic meal she’d planned all week. Tyler had left her a spare key to get in, and as soon as her mother had picked up Noah, Dani had started getting ready. Hair and makeup, check. Sexy negligée, done. Mood lighting.

  She heard the key turn in the lock and fiddled with her hair as she tried posing seductively by the table.

  But when Tyler’s gaze met hers, she stiffened, caught off guard by the raw pain in his face.

  “Tyler, are you okay?”

  He unclipped Duke’s leash and let him amble toward her to say hi. He’d gotten his cast off this week, and when he shoved his snout right between her legs, she jumped back with a laugh.

  “Gross, go away, Duke.”

  She focused on Tyler once more, and her smile died. His shoulders were stiff as he threw his cap across the room. He washed his hands at the sink, still not saying a word, and she folded her arms over her chest.

  Why wasn’t he saying anything?

  “I made chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and green beans, and for dessert, I grabbed a cheesecake, fresh cut strawberries, and whipped cream.” He didn’t comment on the whipped cream, not even a lecherous grin about her attire. She took a few steps toward him and placed her hand on his arm.

  He turned on her so swiftly she didn’t have a chance to react before his mouth claimed hers roughly. Tyler had always treated her with passionate sweetness, but this was different.

  This was raw, painful need in every sweep of his tongue. Every nip of his teeth and press of his lips. His arms wrapped around her in a vicelike embrace, and she put her hands against his chest.

  “Tyler, please talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” he said, trying to kiss her again.

  This time she pressed him more forcefully. “Well, I do.”

  He released her swiftly and threw a glass across the room, startling Duke and her. The shattering ting of the glass scattering across the floor was the only other sound besides their heavy breathing.

  He released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. You should go.”

  She was tempted, ready to grab her stuff and take off. After all, he was acting bizarre, scaring the crap out of her.

  But on the other hand, she could hear the tremble in his voice, tell he was trying to keep it together until she left.

  Well, she wasn’t going to go. Not until he told her what was going on.

  She found his broom and dustpan in the closet and, flipping the lights back on, went to work sweeping up all the glass off the wood floor.

  “What are you doing? Just leave it, I’ll pick it up later.”

  “I’m almost done, just stay there,” she said.

  “God damn it, Dani, can’t you tell when someone just wants to be alone?”

  Dumping the glass into his wastebasket, she put the broom back, ignoring his question.

  “Just get out!” he shouted.

  Dani slammed the closet door, her desire to find out what was wrong disintegrating.

  “I don’t know why you’re treating me like this, but you’re being a real asshole.” Grabbing her coat off the back of the chair, she shrugged into it. “Don’t call unless you’ve got one big fat fucking apology for me.”

  Her hand was on the knob when she heard a thunk behind her. “I thought of you today.” She looked at him over her shoulder and was surprised to find his strong, handsome face tear-streaked. “When I thought I was going to die, I thought of you and Noah.”

  Dropping the knob, she went to him and slid to the floor next to him, her back against the cupboards. “What do you mean, when you thought you were going to die?”

  “I mean when I had an angry kid pointing a gun at me, telling me that he was going to murder me in cold blood, you were among the people I loved and would be leaving behind.”

  Dani’s body went cold as his words sank in, and without another thought about how mad she was, she wrapped her arms around him. “Tyler . . . ”

  His arms held onto her, his face buried in her chest. “I stood there, trying to figure out how to protect Blake and the kids behind me, how to make it so he only hit me, and then out of nowhere, Jeremiah comes running and knocks the guy with the gun down. Only then did I move, and it was already too late.”

  She stroked his hair, shoulders, and back, rocking him as she felt the warmth of his tears on her chest.

  “Do you mean he . . . Is he dead?”

  “No, but he spent hours in surgery for a collapsed lung, and it was my fault.”

  “How can you say that? You didn’t shoot him!”

  “No, but the kid who did was there for me. He was there because I kicked him out of the program. He was ready to kill a dozen people and then himself, just to get revenge on me.”

  “Stop that. You can’t blame yourself for the evil others do. I know you. You’re not malicious or unfair. If yo
u kicked him out of the program, then he deserved it, and if this isn’t proof enough, I don’t know what is.” Dani cupped his face, her voice harsh with a thousand terrifying emotions. Fear that she’d almost lost him, anger at the faceless teenager who had threatened him, and gratefulness because he was still here.

  She kissed him. “I can’t imagine what you’re feeling or how much you’re hurting, but I want to help any way I can. If you’ll let me, that is.”

  This time when their lips met, Tyler wasn’t harsh or aggressive, but gentle once more. His hand cradled the back of her neck, and when they broke apart, he laid his forehead against hers. “I am so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand.” She climbed to her feet slowly and reached down for his hand. “Come on, let’s go lie down.”

  “What about your dinner?” he asked.

  “I think as long as Duke is with us, it will be safe,” she said.

  She led him by the hand behind her while he whistled for Duke, pausing to blow out the dinner candles. Once they were in his bedroom, he shut the door behind them, and Dani just held him, leaning her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

  “Tyler . . . ”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can talk to me, always. I will listen; you just have to use your words.”

  His chest vibrated as he laughed. “Did you seriously just tell me to use my words?”

  “It made you laugh, didn’t it?”

  She felt his lips brush the top of her head. “Yes, it did.”

  “Come lie down with me.”

  He didn’t argue, just stripped down to his boxer briefs and climbed into the bed. She shrugged out of her jacket and the lingerie, crawling under the covers with him and fitting her body next to his, their bodies a tangle of arms and limbs. She stroked her hands over his shoulders and down his arms until she heard the soft, even sound of his breathing and knew he was asleep.

  Her mind strayed back to his words. “You were among the people I loved . . . ”

  And today, she could have lost him. Before she’d been able to tell him she loved him, too.

  THE GUN WAS like a gaping black hole, endless darkness waiting to swallow him up.