by Liz Borino
Chapter Fourteen
The wind smacked the tree branches against house. I hope Jordan makes it back before the storm hits, Aaron thought, blaring a heavy metal mix into his ears. Aaron logged onto his work inbox and began the first urgent troubleshooting task. It always amazed Aaron how royally someone could screw up a website with a few errant keystrokes. Aaron adjusted code with an additional semicolon and ampersand while bobbing his head to the beat. A chill slithered over his body.
Then a blazing heat accompanied by a bitter stench rose behind him.
Aaron whipped his headphones off with a force that disconnected them from the jack. Heavy bass and thumping drums filled the room.
Troy wrapped one arm across Aaron’s chest. And held a knife to his throat with the other hand. “Don’t move,” Troy ordered, his breath as bitter as the rest of his body.
Aaron took shallow breaths in hopes of keeping his skin from making contact with the cold steel. No swallowing.
“Where are my files?” Troy asked.
Aaron bit his lip.
Troy slid the knife along Aaron’s Adam’s apple without breaking skin. “I suggest you answer me.” He inched the blade away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aaron replied.
The knife came back. “Think real hard, Aaron. That virus didn’t accidentally appear on my external drive. As a matter of fact, the friend who searched for my files claimed it was homemade. Hard as he searched, the files weren’t there.”
“That’s what happens with viruses. They wipe out your files.”
“No, my friend analyzed the virus. The files were removed first. The virus was merely a diversion, to keep me from realizing that you stole my files.” Troy lowered himself and hissed, “Give them back.”
“I don’t have your files,” Aaron whispered.
“That’s a shame. If you gave them to me willingly, you would have died quickly, but now…” Troy tightened his hold on Aaron. “Now I think you’ll die the way Jordan was supposed to. Did he ever tell you about his planned execution? Maybe he didn’t know.” Troy brushed his lips against the side of Aaron’s neck.
Puking will make him cut my throat. Don’t do it.
“Nadar was going to cut major arteries. Let him bleed long enough to feel the pain before sprinkling salt in the wounds. But just as he was about to lose consciousness, Nadar would have lit his hair on fire. Each agonized scream fueling the flame.” Troy kissed another spot on Aaron’s neck. “I think I will start cutting you here. Sure you don’t have those files?”
Inhale. Shaking will make it worse. “I don’t.” Jordan does. But Aaron wouldn’t say that.
“I don’t understand you. You’re choosing a torturous death when this could be so easy. But then I guess I haven’t understood much about you. Like why you kept pining for your husband when you had a better option here. I could have been good for you. Taken care of you. Even after he got back.” Troy pressed the blade across Aaron’s neck.
Drums and a strong metallic smell filled Aaron’s consciousness.
Chapter Fifteen
Jordan screeched to a halt behind Hart’s black Benz. The feeling of dread he had at the Pentagon weighed heavier on his chest, but soon dissolved with the surge of adrenaline. Jordan ripped his walking boot off and tossed into the back seat, forcing his foot into a sneaker he kept in there for physical therapy. He patted his sidearm as he eased out of his car. Heavy metal bass shook the curtained front window. Peeking into the crack between the curtain, Jordan witnessed Troy standing above Aaron, but too far away for accurate details. Details were not important. The adrenaline provided tunnel vision as he took careful, silent steps to the back door. Jordan pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Bryant, who answered on the first ring. Skipping pleasantries, Jordan said, “General Hart is inside my house. I need an ambulance. Actually, make that two.”
“Captain, wait for the police to arrive,” Bryant answered after ordering cops to their address.
“No.” Jordan hung up his phone. No was not a strong enough response to that order. Bryant called his cell repeatedly for the seconds it took him to reach the open back door. The music vibrated the atmosphere of the house. Jordan’s gaze caught two things simultaneously: the silver of a knife blade to Aaron’s throat and the drop of crimson just below it.
Jordan clicked the safety off. Aimed.
Hart made eye contact with Jordan. Smiled. Dug the knife in.
Jordan pulled the trigger. And a bullet cut through the thick air.
Hart dropped the knife. Fell to his knees. Collapsed on the floor.
Jordan took three steps. Shot again.
Hart became limp, as deep crimson saturated the gray carpet.
Setting his gun down, Jordan turned his attention to his husband. The cut on Aaron’s neck stretched only a few inches, but you couldn’t tell from his blood-drenched shirt… or closed eyes. No! No! Don’t let me have been too late, Jordan begged silently as he grabbed a shirt from the laundry basket next to Aaron’s computer, pressed it to the cut, and shut the music off. He had never been so grateful for Aaron’s aversion to folding as he was at that moment. Sirens blared in the distance. “Angel! Angel!” Jordan called. “Please wake up. Please.” Jordan dragged his bloody fingers to Aaron’s pulse, where he felt a steady beat. Thank God.
“Jordan?” Aaron whispered. “Did you shoot me?”
Jordan chuckled and continued to apply pressure. “No, I shot the asshole trying to kill you.”
“Better choice.” Aaron shut his eyes again. “The smell and that noise is not helping my head.”
“Noise is taking you to get stitched. Can you hold this?” Jordan asked, indicating the shirt when the ambulance pulled up in front of their house. Aaron placed his hand over it as Jordan lifted him by his neck and knees. “Don’t look down,” he advised as he stepped over Hart’s corpse to let in the approaching EMTs, who situated Aaron on the stretcher. Jordan kissed his forehead and said, “Don’t give them any problems, now.”
“You aren’t coming?” Aaron asked.
“I have to talk to the police, but I’ll be there soon,” Jordan promised, with a nod to Bryant and the police officers on the scene.
Aaron’s eyes widened. “Jordan isn’t in trouble, is he?” he questioned Bryant. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The police have to do an investigation. Go take care of yourself and—”
“No! I’m not leaving if you’re arresting him. Troy was going to kill me if Jordan hadn’t come home,” Aaron screamed.
Jordan approached the stretcher. “Angel, you have to calm down. I need to explain what happened. So will you. The number one priority is you getting medical attention.”
“Not without you,” Aaron told him, then addressed the police. “My husband was a POW. He can’t be imprisoned or handcuffed.”
After squeezing his eyes shut, Jordan released a breath. Though it probably should have, the possibility of arrest had not occurred to him. Jordan worked to block out a panic attack at the thoughts of being behind bars.
“No one said anything about arrest, but we have to find out why there is a dead man in your living room,” the officer closest to Jordan said.
“I’ll tell you why! Troy broke into our house, stood behind me with a knife, and slashed my throat. He would have killed me if Jordan hadn’t stepped in.” Aaron yanked the t-shirt away from his neck. Blood gushed from the wound. “Do you see? You think Troy wouldn’t have taken it further? I promise you he would.”
The EMTs flew to Aaron and taped gauze to the cut. “You will be restrained,” one threatened.
“I want my husband with me. All you need to do is talk to him. You can do that at the hospital,” Aaron demanded. “Or I won’t go.”
Bryant nodded at the officers. “You ride with him, Captain. We’ll meet you there.”
Chapter Sixteen
Several hours later, Jordan held Aaron’s hand in the hospital trauma ward while they wai
ted for Bryant and the police to reappear. “Don’t ever try that again,” Jordan said.
“What?” Aaron giggled for no reason that Jordan understood.
“Jeopardizing your health to accommodate my post-traumatic stress triggers,” Jordan answered.
“Oh! I see. I can’t hurt myself to save you from being hurt.” Aaron tried to cock an eyebrow, but ended up crossing his eyes instead. More giggling.
“You’re high.”
“Yeah, it’s great. You should try it. You might be less cranky at me for doing exactly what you did.” Aaron leaned on Jordan, who hugged him. “Because you don’t get to feel guilty.”
Jordan did, though. He felt guilty for any part in hurting his father and Aaron. One thing he felt no amount of remorse for, however, was killing the rat bastard Hart. He did it in Aaron’s defense, and would have done the same to anyone holding a knife to his husband’s throat… but he would be lying if he didn’t admit to being relieved. The police questioned him, and unanimously agreed that he acted in self-defense. He had two other laws covering his actions, but after hearing he was not going to jail, he stopped caring what they were.
“I want to go home,” Aaron moaned.
“Really?” Jordan asked. “Cuz I don’t. I’m not stepping foot inside that house until a cleaning crew takes care of the mess.”
“Okay, I want to get out of the hospital.”
“Where’d your happy go?” Jordan threw back.
Colonel Bryant knocked and entered when Jordan yelled for him. “I’m sorry I keep leaving, but we received a call from Adeela Nadar.”
Jordan shut his eyes. That’s what he forgot. “I can explain…”
Bryant raised his hand. “No need, Captain. I decided that I’m not going to question your intentions or methods any longer. I don’t know how you keep getting things right, but you do. You believe she’s trustworthy?”
“Yes,” Jordan replied.
“Fine, then so do I. We’re still looking for Jalalabad, and planning the attack on Nadar’s prison.”
Jordan wanted to suggest that he only do one thing at a time, so something might be accomplished, but didn’t think that would go well.
“Check CIA Headquarters in Langley,” Aaron said.
“Why do you think he’s there?”
“You’ll question me, but not him? That isn’t fair.” Aaron puffed out his lower lip.
I would offer the excuse that he’s high, but I’m pretty sure Bryant would know he’d say that regardless.
“If I had the binder in front of me, I would trace where my gut feeling originated, but I have a cut throat because you guys didn’t want to cause problems with the higher-ups by asking too many questions.” Aaron scratched his chin in an effort to appear contemplative and added, “Then again, there would be no need for the binder had you completed a proper investigation sooner.”
“Angel…” Jordan started.
“I’m done.”
Jordan wasn’t sure he believed Aaron. However, the lieutenant colonel’s next words convinced him that he must have been dreaming.
“You’re right,” Bryant said. “We all would be a lot better off if we had listened when you two questioned us. The Army will make sure you’re compensated for the trouble.”
They both thanked him. Jordan’s shoulders ached and his stomach churned. Damn, the adrenaline crash is starting.
“And you both earned a vacation,” the lieutenant colonel continued. “We’ll have a cleaning crew take care of your house, as well.”
“Is a vacation a great idea with everything going on now?” Jordan asked.
“Well, it would be easier for everyone if you were out of town…”
“We’re not going to say anything to the media if that’s what you’re worried about,” Aaron cut in. “But we can relax just as easily in DC as we can in North Dakota.”
Jordan turned toward his husband. “North Dakota?”
Aaron shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know where that came from.”
“I agree with him, sir. The advantage of staying close is that we can assist if any other problems arise,” Jordan told Bryant. “Besides, I promised Adeela that I would ensure her safety, so I would like to be involved in the planning of the mission.” Jordan should have stated it as a question because Jordan had no right to demand anything.
“I will do my best to at least show you the final plans,” Colonel Bryant replied. “Rest well. You have both done your country proud.” With a nod to Jordan and Aaron, Bryant left the room.
After the doctor discharged Aaron, he said, “Let’s go talk to your dad.”
Jordan nodded and guided Aaron into the required wheelchair.
“There is nothing wrong with my legs,” Aaron muttered.
“No, but you are plenty high. Don’t want you to fall.” Every step Jordan took to push the chair made his body throb. His ankle had to be swollen, and the ibuprofen was decreasing the pain. But he was not sure what he expected. Jordan had put his body through a lot in last few days. “Hey, Dad,” Jordan said as he and Aaron entered his room. “How you feeling?”
“Me? He’s in a wheelchair. With a bandage on his neck. What did you do to him?” Elliot asked.
Aaron wheeled over and grinned. “He saved my life from the man who has been hurting us for years.” He went on to tell as much of the story as the media would.
Elliot listened and at the end of the story answered, “Totally worth the fall. Can I go home now?”
“Can you take care of yourself?” Jordan countered.
“Not yet.”
“I think we better get you closer before we talk about discharge.” Jordan ran his fingers through his hair, which no longer had to be a buzz cut.
Squinting, Elliot asked, “I am going home, though, right?”
Jordan and Aaron exchanged an apprehensive look. “Elliot, your doctors don’t know if you will be able to live independently,” Aaron told him.
“Then, I’ll live with you.”
Jordan choked on the air he was attempting to swallow. “Dad, we love you, but no. It’s not feasible.”
“Why?”
“Because we like to walk around naked,” Aaron said.
Before Jordan could give Aaron an altogether different kind of look, Elliot replied, “I’ll leave my glasses off. It’ll be fine.”
How small does he think we are? “Let’s take it one step at a time. We’re going to do our best to keep you in your home as long as possible,” Jordan said. Please, don’t bring up the fact that I’ll be starting my doctorate soon and Aaron works at home. I already feel guilty enough.
“Yes, one step at a time.” Elliot focused on the television. “You two probably need rest. I’ll see you when it’s convenient.”
“Dad…” Jordan tried, but an invisible shield now surrounded his father. “We’ll come by soon.”
“Hey,” Aaron said once in the elevator, “You were honest with him. It isn’t feasible in the long-term. Hopefully we can afford a full-time nurse with the money the government gives us for compensation.”
“Or I could postpone my PhD and take care of him. He took care of me all those years… and I wasn’t even his…”
Aaron’s gaze cut through Jordan’s self-pity. “I am so close to going back up there and letting him respond in whatever way he deems appropriate to that remark, but you hurt enough and I may want that ass for something. You have never doubted who your father was. Now would be a horrible time to start. We will find a solution that makes sense for all of us.”
Jordan offered a smile as he hailed a cab. “Yes, sir.”
****
The next day, Aaron cuddled up to Jordan on the hotel bed. Jordan wrapped his arms around him and kissed his lips. “We should have more days like this,” he stated.
“Yes, weekly.” Aaron nuzzled his bare chest.
They had been naked since they arrived in the hotel after picking up Jordan’s car. Never had Jordan concentrated so hard not to see a plac
e as he had not to catch sight of his house. Would he ever be able to live there without thinking back to what happened? Or, worse, what almost did? Jordan bent down and kissed Aaron’s stitches. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Aaron sighed. “Stop thinking about it, please.”
“That would be a great trick. Can you tell me how to stop thinking about the thing that won’t leave my mind?” Jordan scratched circles on his back. “The question will not leave me alone.”
“What question?”
“What if? What if I had been a few moments later? What if I had hit a red light? What if someone had hit me on the way home? On the flip side, what if I had left five minutes earlier? He wouldn’t have hurt you at all.” Jordan pulled in shaky breaths.
“I have one more,” Aaron said. He waited for Jordan to meet his gaze. “What if you forgave yourself for not predicting the exact best moment to act? What if you accepted that even heroes can’t do it all? Could you handle the knowledge that because you did act, without thinking, debating, or hesitating, the cut on my neck required ten stitches and not a wood box?” Aaron held him close.
Jordan savored his husband’s scent with each inhale. The heat of their skin-to-skin contact warmed Jordan’s core. He needed no more proof that he was lucky than the man in his arms. Their lips touched again, lingering this time. “Angel?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you get lube on your trip to the drugstore?” Jordan asked.
“Of course I did. I said I was going for emergency supplies, didn’t I?” Aaron jumped up and retrieved the Rite-Aid bag while Jordan chuckled.
“Most people wouldn’t classify that as an emergency supply.”
Aaron shrugged and lay on his back. “Most people don’t have a husband they can’t get enough of. Their problem, not mine. Think we should redefine the word emergency.”
Jordan leaned down and kissed from his lips to his navel. “Yeah? What else would you include?”
“Oh,” Aaron moaned. “Depends on our moods. Definitely lube, maybe witch hazel.” He vibrated under Jordan’s mouth as his kisses turned to bites.