Dillon stepped into the hall, pulling his weapon, and approached the front entrance. Stopping by the window, the soldier peered through the blinds.
Luke strode to the other window and glanced out. His security team had stopped the SUV. The driver had gotten out and stood with his hands raised.
Dillon huffed and tucked his gun away before yanking open the door. Luke followed, but at a slower pace.
“Put your hands down, you look stupid,” he heard Dillon drawl when reaching the group.
“Me? They were going to shoot me.” Zane Gannon glowered at the security and even though they were the ones holding the guns, they backed up. And wisely so. From what Luke knew of the man, Zane Gannon was one badass motherfucker.
“What are you doing here?” Dillon inquired, shaking Zane’s hand. “Is Isaac with you?”
“No, and that’s why I’m here. I was hoping you’d heard from him.” Zane wore a troubled look.
“What’s going on?” Luke stepped up beside Dillon.
Dillon turned. “You remember Sergeant Gannon?”
“Of course. Zane.” Luke smiled when Zane saluted him. “It’s nice to see you. Come on in out of this heat.”
The inside of the house was a welcomed change from the outside heat and humidity, and Luke closed the door tightly.
He took them into his study and offered them a drink when everyone settled in. He splashed a few fingers into a glass for himself and one for Dillon.
“No, thank you,” Zane said. “I’ll take one of those, though.”
Luke grabbed one of the cold water bottles from the small fridge and handed it to the soldier before he sat behind his desk. He noticed Dillon had taken the glass of bourbon, but had set it aside without drinking.
“I haven’t seen you since before you went into protective custody,” Luke murmured.
“Yeah. Thank you for getting us out,” Zane replied.
“It was my pleasure.”
Zane and Isaac had witnessed a murder by Senator Van Vorst. The Senator had ordered a hit on the pair. When the investigation uncovered a recording of Van Vorst ordering the hit, Luke had the judge freeze the man’s assets. Once the word got out that Van Vorst couldn’t access his money to pay for a hit, the threat all but disappeared.
“How’s Isaac?” Luke asked.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since we left the safe house,” Zane admitted.
“You could have called him.” Dillon studied Zane.
“My calls go straight to voicemail,” Zane told him and rubbed his palms down the front of his jeans.
“I heard from him about three weeks ago. He’s doing fine.” Dillon rubbed his fingers along his chin.
“You two are close?” Luke smiled at Zane.
“Close?” Zane’s eyes narrowed.
Luke was taken aback; his smile died.
“Um.” He tossed a look at Dillon and then back at Zane.
“What?” Zane snapped, shoving to his feet. “I’m not gay!”
“Hey.” Dillon rose just as swiftly. “Settle the fuck down. Luke didn’t say that. He just asked if you were close. Why does everything need to be about being gay with you?”
Zane’s jaw clenched. “Sorry,” the man muttered. “I got a room in town. If Isaac calls or shows up, tell him to fucking call me.”
“Why would he show up here?” Dillon scowled.
“I don’t know,” Zane grumbled. “I just took a chance.”
“So, you what? Thought you’d come out here and see if he was hiding out? That is so not my brother.” Dillon frowned at Zane.
“Yeah, I know.” Zane’s shoulders drooped.
“How did you even know I was here?” Dillon asked.
“Oliver.”
“He shouldn’t be talking about this assignment, period,” Dillon snapped.
“Hey, did you forget that I’m fucking one of the unit?” Zane snapped right back.
The two men were suddenly face to face, all muscle, hot temper, and attitude.
“Zane.” Luke got the soldier’s attention before a fight could explode. “I have plenty of room if you’d like to stay.”
“Thanks, but no.”
Without another word, Zane stalked out of the house.
Luke held Dillon’s gaze until they heard the SUV drive away.
“Asshole,” Dillon muttered.
“He’s in pain,” he replied.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with him.” Dillon shook his head and finally took a small sip of his drink.
Luke stayed silent. If he had to guess, he’d say that Zane wasn’t happy that he didn’t know where Isaac was.
“Come on, I want to show you something.” He stood with a smile and held out his hand.
Dillon’s eyes narrowed a bit suspiciously, and Luke chuckled, pulling him into the hall.
“Come on, you’ll like it. I promise.”
“Tell me more,” Dillon said suggestively and waggled his eyebrows.
“Save that for later, this is something else.”
Luke rolled his eyes and stopped in the kitchen to grab a few carrots from the crisper.
Dillon eyed the carrot. “I’m so glad you said that.”
Luke laughed loudly.
Dillon
He wasn’t sure what the hell was up with Zane, but he hoped the guy figured it the fuck out. There couldn’t be a falling out between Isaac and Zane. Well, there could be, but it would disrupt the whole team.
He followed Luke into the barn and to one of the stalls at the far end. Those were the stalls they reserved for new rescues. Each enclosure was designed overly large to give the nervous animals space.
Inside was a brown and white mare.
“When did she arrive?” He stepped back so as not to startle her.
“While we were at Beckett’s.” Luke slowly opened the stall door, stepped inside, and then closed it.
“Has the vet seen her?”
“He’s come and gone, but he’ll be back tomorrow,” Luke said softly.
The mare danced away on damaged hooves to the far wall. Her whole body trembled.
Luke stood very still and Dillon eased back out of sight from the mare, but his eyes stayed glued on Luke. The man didn’t reach for her, but rather took a step away and toward the feed bucket.
That got her attention and she took a tentative step toward him. When Luke stopped, she backed up. It went on like that, a back-and-forth dance, for twenty or so minutes before Luke was able to coax her into taking the carrot from him.
“There you go,” Luke whispered. “You just needed a reminder that there are nice people in the world. I’ll never hurt you.”
Her ears perked at the sound of his voice. She seemed to like the slow, soft crooning. Dillon knew that he did.
Luke backed away from the mare without trying to pet her and left the stall.
“She just needs love,” Luke said softly once he’d locked the stall door.
Dillon closed his arms around Luke and drew him close.
“What are you going to name her?”
“Her name’s Daisy. I think that’s a nice name.” Luke stayed silent in his arms for a long moment before taking his hand.
After locking up the barn, it was a quiet walk to the house. One of the things he liked about Luke was how he didn’t need to fill up the silence with endless chatter.
All three Blue Heelers came racing across the yard with Cricket bouncing alongside. Luke crouched to pet each one of them.
After reaching down to scratch Milly beneath the chin, Dillon picked up an impatient Cricket and nuzzled his face into the pup’s neck.
“Hey.”
“Hmm?” he said, lifting his head.
“Let’s watch the second John Wick movie tonight.”
“And order Chinese?”
“And order Chinese,” Luke said with a grin.
Fuck, he loved when Luke smiled. It lit up the room. He placed Cricket down and reached for Luke’s hand
again.
Once everyone was inside, Dillon locked up the house before sending a text to Paul that he’d be here and available, but was taking a few hours off.
They had almost made it to the den when Luke made a pit stop.
“Wait,” Luke said when they reached the kitchen. The man popped his head inside the door. The dogs charged into the kitchen.
“Marge? We are ordering Chinese. Want something?”
“Oh, no.” She smiled at them both, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll head out early then and catch dinner with my daughter.”
“Sounds good.”
“Have they been fed yet?” Marge pointed to the dogs grouping around her feet, gazing up with expectant faces.
“Nothing other than the dried food on the back porch,” Luke chuckled.
“I know Cricket could eat,” Dillon said even though he always left a bowl of dry in his room.
Marge laughed. “I’ll feed them some wet food and let them out for a last-minute run.”
“Thank you,” he and Luke said at the same time, drawing a soft smile from the woman.
Reaching the den, Dillon plucked up the remote and found the movie while Luke ordered delivery. It would take a good hour to deliver this far out, but Luke was an excellent tipper. Dillon imagined that the drivers fought for the hundred-dollar bill to drive the distance.
Luke settled against him and, not for the first time, Dillon thought of how it might be when he was done with this job. What would happen to them when they caught the guy who was after Luke? Would they still see each other often, or would it be a casual thing when they happened to be in the same vicinity?
He couldn’t see that happening, though. He was sent all over the world on Special Ops missions and not one time had the mission been in Texas prior to this.
He sighed and tightened his arm around Luke’s shoulders.
“What’s wrong?”
He smiled when Luke’s green gaze peered up at him. “Nothing.”
Luke eyed him for another moment and then sank deeper against him before turning his attention back to the movie.
The food was delivered and it wasn’t until they’d eaten when the evening turned sour.
“Eric is coming out tomorrow night to talk.”
He grunted at the news.
“I know you don’t like him.”
“I don’t feel one way or the other about him,” he lied stiffly.
Luke’s lips flattened. “Pull the other one.”
He said nothing and tossed his napkin on his plate and then slouched back on the couch.
“Anyways, I want to get this settled between us. I can’t…I can’t stand it.”
Luke’s voice was filled with pain and Dillon suddenly felt like shit. He hoped to god the guy wasn’t involved.
“Hey, it’ll be okay.” He gentled his voice and tugged Luke until the man was sitting back beneath his arm, cuddled against his side. Dillon reached back and removed his Glock and placed it on the small end table next to him.
“I hope so.” Luke eyed the weapon, then turned back to the screen. “Are you up for Wick Three after this?”
“Hell yeah,” he chuckled and kissed the side of Luke’s head, nosing into his hair, breathing his scent.
“If you keep that up, we won’t get past the first five minutes,” Luke complained breathlessly.
“Is that a promise?” he growled against the man’s temple and felt him shiver.
Luke
The next evening found him standing in front of the mirror studying his reflection. He had a dinner date with Dillon and another movie to look forward to after he spoke with Eric.
Brushing his hands down his shirt, he turned away and headed down the stairs and toward his study.
His stepson stood staring out the windows at the growing darkness. When Eric turned around, he held a glass of bourbon clenched in his fist.
“Why do you keep ditching your protection detail?”
“Why do you care?” Eric threw him a scathing look, going on the attack.
“Are you involved with any of what’s going on here?” he tried again, searching for his endless patience.
“Are you really selling mom’s business?” Eric snapped instead.
“It was our business, and we’d always planned to sell it.”
“After you divorced her,” Eric sneered.
That was one of the things Luke regretted. Eric had found the divorce papers on his desk after his mother’s death. Another strike against him.
“Eric, what your mother and I had was complicated.”
“It was all a lie,” Eric said between his teeth.
“We both went into our marriage with our eyes open.”
“Did you ever love her?”
“I cared about her and I care about you,” he calmly answered.
“What are you going to do with the money? Half of that business was my mother’s, so half of that money is mine.”
“If I thought you were more responsible, I’d gladly set that money up in a trust for you.”
Eric gave a half laugh, half sob. “That’s the last thing I need. I don’t need a fucking trust fund! I need fifty thousand dollars now.” The young man tossed back the whiskey with a grimace.
“I can’t give that to you,” he said, leaning a shoulder against the open doorjamb. He wasn’t going to bother sitting down if Eric’s anger escalated.
The booze must have given Eric courage, because he swung his arm out. The empty drinking glass came flying at him and Luke ducked. The glass went sailing over his head and landed with a crash out in the hallway.
“You don’t care about me! You’ve always hated me!” Eric shouted and swung a fist at him.
Luke ducked, caught Eric’s arm, and spun him around. He pushed Eric’s chest against the wall and held him there.
“Calm down.”
“I won’t calm down until you give me that money,” Eric raged and slammed a heel down on the top of his foot.
It hurt like a motherfucker and he hissed, stumbling back. Eric flailed and the man’s elbow caught him in the cheekbone with blinding pain. Luke doubled over, holding his face.
“You little son of a bitch!” The rage in Dillon’s voice was bone chilling.
The soldier caught his stepson by the back of his shirt and tossed him out of his office. Dillon followed after Eric out the door.
“Dillon!” he shouted, and sprinted for the doorway. Shattered glass crunched beneath his foot when he followed them out into the hallway.
Dillon’s fist was clenched around the neck of Eric’s shirt and the big man had his stepson pinned against the wall, one fist pulled back.
“Dillon,” he said, using his general’s voice.
A muscle ticked in Dillon’s jaw and he slowly turned his head, looking away from Eric. When their eyes met, Dillon’s were tormented. Luke watched as the soldier’s hand tightened. Eric’s hands came up, grasping, fingers clawing at Dillon’s grip.
Like quicksilver, Dillon turned back and let his fist fly.
Luke froze when the wood next to Eric’s face gave way with a loud crack as Dillon put his fist through it.
When he pulled back his hand, Dillon spun and stalked away down the hallway and disappeared in the direction of the back stairs.
Eric sank to the floor, looking at him in shock. “I thought he was going to hit me.”
“He’s here to protect me. You’re lucky he didn’t,” he snapped.
“I need that money. Please, dad, I need it,” Eric whispered.
For a moment, he hesitated. His heart hurt, but until Eric told him the truth, he was standing firm.
“Tell me the truth. What do you need it for?”
Eric’s face turned red. “Screw you!” His son scrambled up from the floor and stormed away.
Luke raked his fingers through his hair and hurried after Dillon.
He found Dillon just inside of the barn, standing as if lost in thought.
“Di
llon?”
“Leave me alone.” Dillon’s voice sounded cold and completely void of emotion.
“You didn’t hit him.”
“I lost control.”
“I don’t care.”
“I’m leaving.” Dillon’s long strides took him out of the barn and toward the paddock.
“Don’t leave,” he pleaded, keeping pace.
Dillon spun on him and he came to a stop.
“That was the deal. I told you, if I ever lost it, I was leaving.”
“But you didn’t hit him.”
“I wanted to. So fucking bad.”
“But you didn’t.”
“What about the next time he pisses me off?”
Luke held Dillon’s gaze. His words weren’t getting through.
“I love you. Please don’t leave.”
Dillon closed his eyes and when they opened, they were filled with tormented agony. Silence stretched between them. He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped. Did Dillon love him at all?
“It’s too fucking late,” Dillon ground out and left him standing there as the world crumbled.
Dillon
It was all for the best.
Then why did his heart feel like it was ripping from his chest?
He stalked across the paddock and entered the back of the barn. Approaching his speed bag, he tore off his t-shirt and started in.
He went way past the three-minute mark and only stopped when he was gasping from pain.
His eyes stung as he stumbled back, cradling his hand. It felt on fire; the knuckles were swollen and red from where he’d punched the wall.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
Snatching up his t-shirt, he made it out of the barn before he dropped to his ass on an old wood log that sat a few yards from the building. Lifting his shirt, he buried his face in the material and rocked, cradling his hand to his chest.
He’d almost taken Eric’s head off. Literally ripped the little fucker’s head clean from his neck. Only Luke’s commanding voice had saved the little prick.
Fuck! Shit! What the fuck was he doing anyway? He knew it would all come down to this. He’d had such high hopes, but his fucking temper had once again gotten in the way. He rubbed at his chest, wondering when the feeling of a hole ripped into it would fade. He suspected that it may never go away. A feeling of misery swept over him. He hadn’t felt this sense of hopelessness since he was a little boy.
Whatever It Takes (Code Of Honor Book 5) Page 13