Battle It Out

by Reese Knightley

  Isaac

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out with a smile.

  “I was going to leave you a message,” Zane’s sexy, deep voice washed over him.

  “Want me to hang up?” he teased.

  “No!”

  He laughed and sank onto the locker room bench. “What are you wearing?”

  “Old, Thorne, so old,” Zane laughed. “Where are you?”

  “In the locker room.”

  There was a moment of silence over the line.

  “Okay, so what are you wearing?” Zane chuckled.

  “Nice try, Gannon. I’m fully clothed.”

  “I want to get you out of those clothes.”

  “Me too,” he whispered. “Where are you?”

  “I just left the base,” Zane replied. “When do you leave?”

  “Still waiting on final orders,” he sighed.

  “So, you don’t know for how long?”

  “Hopefully, we’ll be back by the time you get home.”

  “I hope so.”

  He kept Zane on the phone longer than he should have and only ended the conversation when he saw a call coming in from dispatch.

  “I have to go,” he sighed. “Love you.” His heart lurched and then pounded in his chest. Shit, shit, shit.

  “Hey Isaac?” Zane replied hurriedly before any silence could grow.

  “Yeah?” He couldn’t keep the lilting hope from the one word. He strained to hear Zane’s breathing over the phone for another moment.

  “Be safe.”

  “I will,” he said over the lump in his throat. Hanging up was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  He knew Zane loved him; it was only a matter of time before he told him so.

  Right?

  He ended the call and accepted the other.

  “What’s up, Sam?”

  “Hey Isaac,” Sam said. “I have a woman to patch through to you. She’s your mom’s nurse.”

  His breath stuttered. “Did you try Dillon?”

  “I did. It went to voicemail.”

  He walked out of the building and into the sunshine toward his SUV.

  “Go ahead, put her through.”

  A few klicks later and silence.

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Isaac Thorne?”

  “This is him.”

  “I’m your mother’s nurse and I got into a slight car accident this morning. I can’t make it over. Can you run by and tell your mother I’ll be late?”

  His heart slammed against his ribs. Could shit get any worse?

  “My brother is your contact.”

  “I know.” The woman’s voice wobbled. “But I can’t get ahold of him.”

  Same as Sam. Why the fuck wasn’t Dillon answering his fucking phone?

  “I’ll find him. Don’t worry,” he said tightly.

  “Thank you.”

  The call ended and with shaking fingers, he punched in Dillon’s number. It went straight to voicemail. He left a message.

  Would Dillon get it in time?

  What if something happened to his mom before Dillon got the message? Shit, shit, shit. He suddenly remembered that Dillon and Luke were flying back to the ranch.

  He sat there squeezing his cell phone until his hand went numb before charging toward his vehicle.

  Not long thereafter, he pulled up and parked in front of his mom’s house. Out of his SUV, he was on the porch and knocking softly on the door.

  No answer. Heading around the side of the house to the back screened in porch, he opened the screen and stepped inside the enclosure.

  The musky, damp odor of the back porch hit him hard. Dillon had had it redone and treated to kill the mold, but it still smelled damp to Isaac. Maybe that was his memories of the numerous times he’d stood freezing on the back porch waiting for his mother to open the door.

  “Mommy, let me in! Please, mommy.”

  “Isaac.” Dillon had come up behind him and closed his arms around him and pulled him into the small alcove between the washer and dryer unit. He’d been so small, he’d easily tucked into the space, pulling at Dillon.

  “Hide with me!”

  “I don’t fit, Isaac.” Dillon tossed a coat over the top of his head. “Now be quiet.”

  A car backfired and he jumped, slamming his elbow into the door with a crack. The porch came back into view.

  He retrieved the key from inside one of the numerous planters lining the back porch and slipped it into the lock.

  The washer and dryer now sat just inside the door, not the same old yellow set of days of old, but the new industrial set that Dillon and Luke had bought. He remembered Dillon passing around pictures of the gift and the remodeling to move them inside the house.

  Heading through the laundry room, he stepped into the brightly lit kitchen.

  It stood empty as far as he could see. The quiet was the first thing he took in, and then the faint scent of breakfast, potatoes and bacon.

  Maybe it was habit, but he pulled his small personal weapon and aimed it upward, elbows bent before he made his way through the kitchen. The den was empty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for pulling his gun.

  His only defense was that the last time he’d been in this house, he’d prayed for a gun to shoot his father dead. Just thinking of the old drunken bastard set his teeth on edge.

  “Mo-” he choked, coughed, and tried again. “Mom?”

  There was no return answer and he had expected one. The silence sat like lead in his gut. She had always answered, no matter what. How could he have forgotten that? Ever since he was tiny, she had always answered him. “Wait for me, Isaac,” or “One minute, baby. I’ll be right there.” He swallowed and walked through the living room. The doors in the hallway were closed except for the bathroom and when he paused in the doorway, the decor had changed, but it still had the same lime green sink and white and green tile on the counters. Everything else had changed, from the paint on the walls to the new flooring.

  He walked back into the hallway, not opening his room door or Dillon’s. He stepped past them to the door at the end of the hallway.

  Fear lodged into his throat as he reached for the knob and pushed the door open.

  She sat near the window where the sun shone brightly on her light hair. Across her lap draped a knitted afghan keeping out any chill that the warmth of the room didn’t provide.

  She’d changed from the pale pink house dress into one of a bright blue and when her head turned, eyes the color of his own stared back at him. The oxygen tank sat next to her chair and the line fed air to the small piece of plastic tubing beneath her nose.

  Did she recognize him?

  “Isaac?” her voice wobbled.

  “Yeah, momma,” he ground out, tucking his weapon away before he moved across the room to her.

  “I was afraid when Annie didn’t show up,” she whispered.

  “I’m here, everything’s okay.” He sent a text to Dillon.

  Fucking Christ, how had he not known she was on oxygen? Had she taken a turn for the worst? He was suddenly reminded that Dillon had wanted to talk to him on his birthday and then again earlier, but each time he’d cut his brother off.

  Gritting his teeth, he moved to her and sank down next to the chair. She looked like an angel in her nightgown with tiny yellow flowers on blue.

  “Oh momma.”

  Memories came crashing back in this same room of how he’d hidden beneath the bed while she tried not to scream. He clenched his teeth, his lips pulled back, and he stared upward trying to hold back the storm inside. He’d stuffed his memories so far down that he’d forgotten half of what she’d done for him. How she’d protected him.

  Now she was dying and he’d turned his back on her. On the years they could have had together. He placed a hand on her knee.

  “My baby boy, I’m so glad you’re here.” Tears streamed down her pale cheeks.

  “I love you, momma.”

  He patted
her hair and laced their fingers together, blinking his eyes, but not stopping the fall of his own tears.

  Zane

  “Zane Gannon as I live and breathe,” Whiplash Tauber said from behind the dark hardwood bar.

  “Don’t you ever work?” Zane kicked the snow and gravel from his boots on the mud mat before he advanced into the main room of Tauber’s Pool Hall with a smirking smile for the owner.

  The warmth inside went a long way to ease the sting of cold on his cheeks.

  “On occasion.” The sexy US Marshal laughed and came around the bar to yank him into a hug.

  His throat tightened and he gripped his friend hard. He hadn’t seen Whip since they’d buried a good friend several months ago.

  “Have a seat. Beer?” Whip said when he pulled back.

  “Just one. I’m heading to Diesel’s place.” He slid onto a tall bar stool as Whip stepped back behind the bar.

  “You can walk from here.”

  Zane smiled. “Yeah.”

  “You know they got the kids?”

  “I do.”

  Whip placed a coaster and foaming beer on the gnarled wood with a smile.

  “I’m an uncle.”

  He guzzled half his beer and wiped his mouth.

  A shadow from the hallway drew his attention and US Marshal Axel Bain stepped out.

  “Hey, Axel, how’ve you been?” He gripped the man’s hand tightly.

  “Can’t complain,” Axel drawled.

  “I can,” Whip snarked.

  Axel sliced Whip an annoyed look and Zane laughed.

  “Really, you should have seen the last guy we had to put into WITSEC.” Whip launched into a tale that had him and even Axel in stitches.

  Thirty minutes later, he tugged out his wallet.

  Whip waved him off. “This one’s on me.”

  “Thanks, man.” Reaching over the counter, he gripped Whip’s hand hard and then turned to give a backslapping hug to Axel. “I’ll stop by before I leave. I’ll be here for a day or two.”

  “On leave?” Axel asked.

  “Something like that.”

  Whip frowned slightly, but thankfully, didn’t ask questions.

  Slip sliding on the icy sidewalk, he made it to his jeep. Gravel crunched beneath his tires when he parked on the side of the street in front of his brother’s house. His boots creaked through the snow when he opened the white picket fence and stepped through.

  The front door opened at the same time and Diesel stepped out, shutting it behind him.

  “Hey, bro,” he called to get Diesel’s attention.

  “Zane!” His brother’s face lit up. “You didn’t call me when you got close.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  Diesel carefully stepped through the slush and down the three short steps to yank him into his arms.

  He squeezed his big brother tightly.

  “How you doin, Dad,” he cackled.

  Diesel laughed and held him at arm’s length. “Can you imagine?”

  “I can. You’ll be an awesome dad.”

  “I have to get stuff from the store, but come on in, meet the kids and get settled.”

  He stepped inside the warm house behind Diesel, freshly baked cookies lingered in the air. It was mid-January and the house remained festive with holiday decorations. The tree was still up with lights.

  “We decided to keep the tree up for the twins or they wouldn’t have gotten one this year,” Diesel said, hanging his coat on the coat tree next to the door.

  Zane followed suit with his own heavy bomber jacket.

  “Don’t take off your boots, you can come to the store with me.”

  He stood in the tiled entryway that spilled into the brown carpeted living room. Everyone in Oregon had a mud room or an entry, it saved the carpet from being destroyed.

  Mud and snow clung to his boots and he almost stepped back outside to wait, but Triton’s voice stopped him.

  “Zane! You made it,” Triton called from the kitchen door. A bright printed apron tucked into Triton’s jeans and at his side was a small boy clutching his pocket. On the other side was a small girl with pigtails holding his hand. With their dark hair and dark eyes, they looked like they could have been Diesel’s.

  “Hi Triton.” Rather than approach, he waggled his fingers at the three in the doorway.

  “This is Jessie and Jacob.”

  “Hello there.”

  “Guys,” Triton crouched between the children. “This is Uncle Zane. Remember I told you about him?”

  Zane crouched where he stood and gazed at the children.

  “Diesel, you and Zane take off your boots and stay a while. The groceries can wait,” Triton ordered.

  “Don’t need to tell me twice!” Diesel immediately unlaced and kicked off his boots as ordered.

  “Shoes on the mat,” little Jacob said, and Zane almost laughed up a lung when Diesel sheepishly place his dirty boots correctly on the mat.

  “Don’t forget,” Diesel growled softly for his ears only. “I can still kick your ass, little brother.”

  He laughed so much that the children started giggling and broke away from Triton to come closer.

  He was an uncle, a fucking uncle.

  Go figure.

  “Another cup?” Diesel asked.

  “No, I’m good.” He took a sip and glanced out at the morning sun glinting off the fresh snow.

  He sat in his brother’s office with the door closed, affording them a bit of privacy. Not that they needed any, but Triton had ushered them in there last night and they’d just automatically returned inside the wide office with their morning coffee.

  He’d vetoed going to his own house a few miles down the road and instead crashed on Diesel’s couch. He hadn’t wanted to be alone.

  “I do need to be getting out of here before I get snowed in.”

  “You have two weeks off,” his brother huffed.

  “I know. I’m anxious to get back.”

  “You were very quiet last night.”

  “The kids were around.”

  “Not in here,” Diesel reminded him.

  He shrugged. He hadn’t opened up last night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open up now, either.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I already told you.”

  “That call didn’t tell me shit. All I know is that you were ordered on a two week leave and Isaac was assigned to Fury. I want details.”

  At that point, he spilled everything, including their fight on the previous mission and the locker room kiss that had rocked his world.

  Diesel poured a dash of whiskey in his morning coffee and slid the bottle toward him.

  “I kissed him back, but he pushed away and tripped.” He dumped a splash in his coffee and took a sip.

  Diesel chuckled when he described the lockers toppling.

  “Laugh it up, but Liam wasn’t happy.”

  “You’re sitting here on a two-week forced leave, so I gather that.”

  “Yeah, but the leave is more because of our fight during the mission than the locker room disaster.”

  Zane grimaced and swallowed down more of the doctored coffee.

  “You need to talk to Isaac, smooth things out,” Diesel replied.

  The silence lingered, safe and warm, and he drew in a deep breath.

  “I did.” He did a hell of a lot more than smooth things out, but some things were private.

  “After the locker room? Wait, back up.” Diesel frowned. “You made up already?”

  “Yeah, before I left town.”

  “So that’s why you delayed for two days?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “You should have led with that first, ya clown.” His brother squinted at him.

  He grinned. “Sorry. He wants to be exclusive.”

  “I knew something was different.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, you look…” Diesel searched for the word. “Content.”

  �
�I am.” He studied his coffee and took a swallow.

  “He told me he loves me.”

  “Well, that’s obvious. Even I could see it the way you two danced around each other.”

  “It wasn’t, ‘I love you’, it was more of a ‘love you’ when he went to hang up.” He didn’t know if it had been a knee jerk reaction on Isaac’s part, but he didn’t think so.

  “How do you feel about it?”

  “Scared. Elated. Happy.” He snorted, tossing his brother a glance. “Terrified.”

  “Terrified? Because you’re not out?”

  Was that the reason? “No, I don’t give a shit about that, not anymore.” Isaac was more important than keeping some damn secret. And honestly, he could have kicked himself in the ass for being such a dolt.

  “I’m not going to shout it from the rooftops, but I’m not going to hide it.” He held his brother’s eyes.

  “Good. Then, what’s got you terrified?”

  “I told him I wanted a relationship. What if I fuck it up?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I’ve fucked up every one I’ve had before.”

  “You’ve never had one with a man. Maybe that’s why you kept fucking up.”

  He swung a surprised look at his brother. Could that be the reason? They dropped into silence for several minutes.

  “What else?”

  “It’s Isaac’s BFF.” He took a deep breath and filled his brother in on the debacle between Jo and Lacy.

  “Wow, that doesn’t sound like Jo.”

  “That was my thinking after I saw how Lacy acted toward Jo that day. Jo seemed genuinely upset while Lacy appeared uncaring about the whole thing.”

  “What does Isaac think?”

  “He believes Lacy.”

  “But you think Lacy is causing trouble?”

  “Yeah.”

  He filled his brother in on the run in with Lacy in Isaac’s kitchen on the morning he left.

  “If she is causing trouble, she’ll show her true colors soon enough,” Diesel said.

  He agreed.

  “I still want to talk to Isaac about her.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Diesel stated.

  Now, he just had to figure out how to best approached Isaac.

  Isaac

  Three days later