“Surprise!” A voice I hadn’t heard in months yelled, just before a heavy body landed on my lap and something hit me right in the balls, shooting them up into my skull.
It was like nothing I’d ever felt before in my life (thankfully). The second the weight hit my lap I opened my eyes, seeing my big brother – my Irish twin – grinning at me. Any happiness was canceled out by something hard and sharp hitting me right in the center of my nuts, which had pushed up when I’d sat down meaning that they were a prime target if something obscure happened, like your brother appearing in your home out of the blue.
I don’t know if it was the gagging groan that came out of me, the hand that tried to punch him in the face, or the fact I’m fairly certain that I turned purple, but he shifted digging whatever it was into my balls again and then lifted up. “Oops, sorry,” he snickered, patting the weapon on his hip. “Forgot about that.”
Men discuss the pain of a crotch shot a lot. We start when we’re young, we continue after the first hit, and it just keeps growing as a conversation after it. So, I’m fairly certain me describing it as the worst pain you’ll ever feel is pretty much a fact. I’d been winged by a bullet on my left hip, I’d had a bullet hit my Kevlar, I’d broken my arm, my leg, and I’d been punched in the face numerous times – but nothing compared to the pain I was in right then. It was like every nerve lived in that one area. When you were hit there all the oxygen was sucked out of your body, every nerve started screaming, your gut twisted itself repeatedly, and quite frankly shitting yourself wasn’t out of the question. I hadn’t ever shat myself after a hit to the balls yet, but I intended to live for at least another sixty years, so there was time.
“Why?” I gasp groaned, leaning forward to see if it would put the poor little guys back in the right place and untwist my intestines.
Plonking himself down on the recliner, Garrett pulled the leaver for the leg rest, and made himself comfortable. “Got back, saw Mom and Dad, decided to come visit you,” he explained, making it sound like an everyday occurrence. “Oh, and I’m on medical leave for the foreseeable future.”
That got my attention. Slowly raising my head – seeing as how movement was difficult enough as it was at that moment – I looked over the tall figure sitting nonchalantly in my chair. “What?”
Not making eye contact with me, he shrugged as he took in the room. Nothing had changed, and he knew that, he was just avoiding the inevitable. “I had an incident two weeks ago, nothing serious, but I have some burns that need to be looked after. Because I joined the ROTC when I was eighteen, I’ve done my active time and then some. I agreed to do eight years of service after I joined, I’ve done nine. Now I go into inactive for a while, and then I’m done.”
Taking in what he’d just laid out, I tried to prioritize my questions. “You got hurt?”
Standing up, he raised the side of his t-shirt, showing me what I knew were burn dressings. “Yeah, we were pulling out of an area near Raqqa, and went over an IED that had been missed. Thankfully, it wasn’t set properly, so no one was killed, but it still did some damage.”
Seeing as how the dressings started underneath his jeans and ended near his shoulder blade, I asked, “How bad is it?”
“Half an ass cheek and what you see.”
Leaning back, I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to get my head around it. “Jesus. How bad did they said it was? Will you need skin grafts or whatever else they do for shit like that?”
I lowered my hands just in time to see him sitting down again and noticed that he favored one side. When he’d been on my lap, he’d had his left side closest to me, which was the non-burned side. As he sat down now, I watched him settle on his good side first, before gently lowering the other side down. How he was sitting with burns like that was beyond me, but Garrett had always been a tough son of a bitch.
“Nah, they seemed to think it would heal on its own. I could opt for grafts, but I don’t want to go through an anesthetic unnecessarily if all I’m going to have is some scarring. If it becomes an issue, I’ll do it. If not, then I’ll consider it proof that I survived the fires of hell.”
I could understand that. Garrett, myself, and Catalina all had a condition called Malignant Hyperthermia, so anesthetics were never a good thing for us and I suspected that this was why he was on indefinite leave now. Without the skin grafts, the area would need extra time to heal, but ever since they’d discovered that he had the condition when he was four and had his tonsils out and almost died because of it, anesthesia had always been a worst-case scenario for him.
The condition causes a fast rise in body temperature, major muscle contractions, increased acid levels in your blood, and a rapid heart rate when you have a general anesthetic. It was also life threatening and had scared the shit out of us when he’d been admitted into ICU after the routine surgery. Thankfully, they’d known what to do immediately and then we’d all had to go for testing to determine if we shared the same problem. As it turned out, everyone but Dad had it.
When Garrett and I were both eighteen, we’d had the medical caduceus symbol tattooed on our wrists with malignant hyperthermia beside it so that if we were in an accident, they’d see it. Catalina had done the same thing three years after us, and Mom wore a bracelet with it on. That was the tattoo people could see, but few knew the story about what had happened that day. The condition was also another reason I had a problem with needles.
“Fuck, man,” I groaned, realizing that this pretty much meant the end of his career. It might be four years of inactive service, but with medical leave on top of it? “Wait, explain why you’re out and not doing your inactive service on a base or something?”
Leaning forward, he threaded his fingers together, watching as Ranger walked up to him and nudged him. Giving in, he started scratching him under his ear, smiling when he groaned. “The deal was eight years active, four inactive. I’ve done nine active because of things going on in the world, and because I have to recover from the burns and they want me to see a therapist to ensure that any other effects of the accident are recorded, they’ve put me on medical leave pending a review. At any point they can call me back, but after talking to my CO, they decided they would adjust my inactive service to eighteen months, and they’ll review where the rest is served once I’ve come out of medical leave.”
“So, you don’t have a job?” I asked not understanding it. It had all seemed straightforward when he’d joined the ROTC after we graduated high school, and there had been a time when I’d been tempted to join with him, but then I’d decided that law enforcement was going to be my focus, so I hadn’t.
Shaking his head, he finally looked up at me, and for a second I saw how lost he was. Garrett was thirty-one now, and even though he’d been at college for four years, he’d been part of the military for thirteen years, it was the life he knew the best. “Nope. Like I say, they can call me back at any point, but inactive service means I’m not fulfilling any duties for the military so I don’t get paid.”
I made a mental note to call DB before I went in tonight to discuss the possibility of Garrett joining us. Once I knew if there was a position available, I’d mention it to him, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up without knowing the answer. “My wom… neighbor Rose is a nurse. She can help you out with your burns if you need it.”
Lips twitching, he looked out the window behind me, and then back at me. Sometimes when I looked at my brother, it was like looking in a mirror. People assumed we were actual twins when they saw us, and right now I totally got it. Obviously there were differences between us, but it was an easy assumption to make. Without the frown lines, the tight lips, and the stress that he’d been showing seconds ago, we looked just like each other.
“Ah, your woman is she? The last time I was here, Miss Rose was a free agent, in fact I was thinking of asking her out,” he told me, leaning back and rubbing his stomach with the hand that Ranger hadn’t claimed. “I think she liked me you know.”
“Doubtful seeing as how I was in her bed last night,” I muttered, refusing to rise to what he was saying – the big fat shit. “But if you need any help – with the area above your ass,” I growled, remembering exactly how far the injury extended, “then she’ll help.”
Grinning widely now, he mused, “But what if my butt boo-boo needs to be looked at by the nurse? And can I make her wear a naughty nursey outfit when she does it?”
The mental image of Rose in a naughty nurse outfit had me stiffening slightly, and it took everything I had to keep in the groan that automatically accompanied it. I was going to get her one of those, take a thousand photos, and then strip her out of it slowly. And there I went making plans that came naturally to me – sadly thanks to my brother being an asshole, though.
“If you don’t stop, you’ll be at the hospital getting a team of surgeons to remove your head from your colon, and then they can look at your butt boo-boo.”
That made him burst out laughing, throwing his head back and letting it all out. With what he’d gone through, it was great to see him doing that, and part of the worry I had for him settled. If he had PTSD from it, or if he was struggling with civilian life, I’d make sure I got him through it. The fact that he could laugh and joke like he was now made me hopeful that he’d be ok. It was going to be baby steps.
“So, roomy,” he said once he’d stopped laughing, rubbing his hands together. “Coffee o’clock?”
“It’s always coffee o’clock, bro. And seeing as how you’re a man of leisure now, have at it,” I gestured to the kitchen before leaning down to undo my boots. Typically, I was a no shoes in the house type of guy, but I’d been so frigging tired when I’d come in that I’d forgotten to take them off. Deciding that my uniform needed to go, too, I yelled as I passed the kitchen door, “Just taking this shit off and getting comfortable stuff on. Remember, no sugar in mine, just a dash of creamer.”
It was pertinent to remind him about how I took my coffee seeing as how he and Dad had four sugars in theirs, Cat had two in hers, and Mom had one. It was disgusting and probably why I was vehemently anti anything sweet in mine. The only coffee I’d turn down was one with sugar in it, but could my family ever remember that? Could they hell. Let me tell you, when you hate sweet coffee, that discovery mouthful is enough to make you want to puke. No matter what you do, the sugary coffee taste stays around for a while and totally ruins the coffee you drink after it. So hell yeah I was going to remind him each time he made me one.
Once I was done getting changed, and I had put everything away, I went back through and sat back down where I’d been before just as Garrett brought two travel mugs through. “No sugar, just creamer,” he confirmed as he handed me mine.
“Why these?” I asked holding my travel cup up.
“Couldn’t find the normal ones, plus it’s habit now. You pour, you add, you stir, you leave and drink it on your way,” Garrett shrugged. “By the way, great selection of those pod things, but I just grabbed the ones nearest me. I wasn’t sure if you had them organized that way for preference reasons or not.”
“That’s what I do,” I snickered. “I love having a selection, but I rarely purposely pick one.”
Opening the little mouth spout, I took a mouthful of it, pausing when the sweet taste hit me. It was an automatic gag reflex for me, and it took everything I had not to just spit it out across my living room. Getting up, I ran to the kitchen and spat it out, then turned the faucet on full blast, closing my eyes on reflex when it splashed up into my face, and reached for a spoon to scrape my tongue.
“What the hell are you doing?” my brother asked behind me.
“Sugar,” I gagged again, and stuck my head under the water to try to rinse the taste out.
“Did you get a pod with sugar in it, because I didn’t add any?”
Thanks to the spoon and the water, I had the worst of it out of my mouth within a couple of minutes, but it still meant the subsequent coffee wouldn’t taste right. Turning to glare at my brother as I wiped my face with the back of my hand, I snapped, “You tried to poison me.”
The look on his face changed from confusion to pissed off instantly. “I did not. The one I’m drinking is the one I added sugar to, the one you drank di… what the fuck is in your mouth?”
Looking down at my hand, I saw a big blue smear up the skin, one that I definitely would have noticed before now had it been there. “What’s that?” I asked, holding my hand out to show him.
“Looks like the same shit that’s staining your teeth.”
Whenever someone says that, it’s an automatic reflex to show your teeth to them for a description. It doesn’t matter if it’s food or what, you do it if you don’t have a mirror to hand, and that’s why I did it. “What do you mean? What’s on them?”
Getting closer to me, Garrett leaned in to look at them. Whatever he saw made him smile, though, showing me the inside of his mouth – specifically his blue teeth. “Oh, shit. Did she put something in your coffee?”
Seeing that he was about to reach for his phone, I pointed out, “Yeah, looks like it was in yours, too.”
Twenty minutes later, bleeding gums and all, I had the worst out of my mouth. Garrett had gone to the bathroom that was in his bedroom to fix his problem, but whatever she’d used wasn’t coming off easily.
I’d said it before, I’ll say it again – revenge was mine.
* * *
That night…
Rose hadn’t come home all day, so I’d come to the conclusion that she’d gone to her parent’s house for the night. That stung slightly because she hadn’t even text me to tell me, but if I was being rational, she didn’t really have to. I knew I wanted her as mine, I knew I thought of her as mine, but we hadn’t had that conversation yet – but we would. Her not being home was also a good thing, because it meant payback would be easier.
I’d intended on planting the Chucky doll I’d bought online in her bedroom but Garrett had come up with a better one, and that’s why we were standing at my window with one of those red laser pointers aimed at her living room window.
“All it’ll do is get him to mess shit up for a while,” he assured me as he moved it from side to side. “I can’t believe it’s as big as you say it is. What the hell is she feeding it?”
“From the looks of it – everything,” I murmured, reaching over to try to take it away from him. “I want a go!”
And there started a tug of war, both of us trying to take the laser out of the other’s hands. Unfortunately, during that time the thing was still on and shining the red dot into her house. I’d find out later that we’d jiggled it in every direction, sending poor Rex into a frenzy and getting him to reenact the time he’d had the calming plug-in and the damage he’d done then.
Chapter Nine
Rose
“What the hell?” I gasped, seeing the holes in the walls first. Taking a step forward, I peeked around the corner into the living room and my jaw dropped impossibly further. I was sure I’d thrown that damn plug-in thing out…
Then I realized that it could be a burglar this time and quickly walked back out of the house to my car, as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. It was eleven o’clock at night, but he’d said specifically to call him so he’d brought this on himself. Strangely enough, I was calm as I locked myself in my vehicle and hit his name on the screen. Maybe it was because I’d been through it before, or maybe it was because I knew he’d help me out, but I didn’t panic once as I waited for him to answer, which he did on the third ring.
“Hey, sweetheart. You ok?”
Sliding down in my seat a bit more, I kept my eyes on the front door of the house. “I think someone might have attacked my home,” I told him. “There're holes in the wall, and it looks like someone broke in and turned things over.”
“You didn’t accidentally switch that plug shit on did you?” he asked, the sound of feet walking quickly coming through the phone after he stopped talking.
“No, I s
wear. I threw it away after that first time.” But then an idea hit me. “You didn’t put another one in did you?”
“I can confirm I didn’t,” he growled, the sound of a car door closing accompanying him this time. “Garrett’s staying at my place just now, so I want you to run over there while I’m on the phone to you, ok? Me and Logan are on our way and he’ll keep you safe until we get there. You got that?”
Getting out of the car, I started running to the door of his house, not even stopping to press the button to lock my vehicle. In fact, I don’t even think I closed the door. “I’m almost there,” I wheezed, realizing exactly how unfit I was. I also thought about the mug Ellis had bought me last month that had ‘I never run with scissors… the last two words in that sentence are unnecessary’ on it. True story! But after this, I would be open to looking at doing some exercise, the key word being some, though.
The door opened before I could knock on it, and Garrett stood on the other side looking at the screen of his phone. It must have been the text from his brother because he pulled me inside and then squinted over at my house, like he was trying to see through the walls.
“Put me on speakerphone,” Raoul asked. After I’d done it and confirmed it was on, he said, “G, keep her safe. We’re on our way, but I want eyes on the property. No one goes in or out of it until we get there. If you see someone leaving, I want a full description and the direction they went in.”
“Roger dodger,” Garret confirmed, not looking away from the house.
“Don’t engage and risk injuring yourself even more. Just watch and report.”
Sighing, Garrett rolled his eyes at me. “I said ok. Jesus, you’re worse than Mom,” he muttered, and then hung up.
“You’re hurt?”
Eyes back on my house, he nodded. “Yeah, got some burns on my back. Raoul said you could look at them but you’re to stay away from my butty boo-boo.”
Classy AF: Cheap Thrills Series Book 3 Page 9