Bound by Steel

by J. B. Havens

  “Sweetheart, your boy here…”

  “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear it.” She slashed her hand through the air, cutting Carter off mid-sentence. “What the fuck is all over the floor? Coffee?”

  “That was my fault.” Jordon dabbed at his nose with his shirt tail, wincing as he did so. “I tackled the fucker while he was drinking coffee.”

  “Brilliant. Just fucking fantastic.” She stepped off the bottom stair cautiously.

  “Careful, sweetheart. Watch the porcelain.” Carter stepped forward, moving to pick her up.

  “Touch me and I’ll break your stupid arrogant face.” Her tongue-lashing was spectacular to watch. Jordon chuckled under his breath, glad her ire wasn’t directed his way. “Get into the kitchen, both of you.”

  Walking to the wall, she pressed the intercom. Two beeps sounded and a sleepy Rook answered. “What?”

  “Bring your med kit to the kitchen. We have two idiots.”

  A heavy sigh was audible over the speaker. “Copy.”

  “I don’t need to be fixed up. I can do it myself.” Carter was holding his ribs tightly as he led the way to the kitchen.

  “Don’t be a stubborn bastard. Your head might need stitches and I want to look at those ribs. Sit your asses down.” She bossed them around like the leader she was. Carter had a nasty cut over his right eye, his jaw was swelling, and his teeth were stained with blood as he grimaced in pain.

  “Let him bleed.” Jordon spat blood into the sink and tested his teeth with his tongue. A few in the front wiggled slightly, but not enough to worry him.

  Rook came into the kitchen, slamming his red medical bag onto the table. “Jordon. Carter. You’re both fucking assholes.” He was uncharacteristically shirtless, his black cotton pajama bottoms hanging off his lean hips. The scar on his ribs was very white against his dark skin. “Sit the fuck down so I can see who is bleeding more.”

  Jordon peeled off his shirt which was stuck to his back with drying blood. “Dammit. Did you have to slam me into the broken cup, you fucker?” He tossed his shirt into the trash and flipped a chair around to straddle it with his back to the room.

  “Jesus Christ.” Rook shook his head in disgust. “Asshole number one, which is you Carter, hold some pressure on that eye. Mic, get me some tweezers, would you, and a bowl. I have to pick pieces of coffee cup out of boy-o’s back.” Rook commanded the room, barking orders with ease as he snapped on his latex gloves.

  Rummaging through the bag, Mic handed Rook the tweezers and Jordon gritted his teeth in anticipation of the pain to come. His back felt like it was on fire, tiny needles of agony stabbing all over. “Just get on with it.” Opening and shutting cabinet doors, Mic found a small metal bowl and set it on the table.

  “I have half a mind to kick both your asses all over again. I would too, if you hadn’t already done such a good job of it,” Mic snarled.

  Glancing to the side, Jordon kept his eyes on his woman while the medic behind him dug splinters of ceramic out of his flesh. Mic kept her hands on her hips and he was grateful looks didn’t actually kill. “He deserved it.”

  “You overreacted, you jealous, childish fuck.” Carter was leaning against the big sink, using a towel to sop up the blood from his face. Jordon grinned in satisfaction. Maybe he wouldn’t be so pretty now.

  “Enough!” Mic actually stomped her foot, her bare skin making little noise on the tile floor. “Carter, listen the fuck up.” She tromped over to him, poking him in the chest with each word and not giving the asshole a chance to respond. “Jordon is mine and I am his. We’re it for each other. Stop fucking with him. Got me?” She marched back to the table and got in Jordon’s face. “And you. He’s my friend and means something to me that I cannot explain to you. But I have not been, nor will I ever be, in his bed. I’m in our bed. With you. Don’t be so jealous; you have no reason to be. I’m going for a run. Make sure you get all the blood and broken shit up before the maids get here. They don’t need to be cleaning that shit up.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get them patched up and make sure they do it.” Rook dropped another shard of ceramic into the bowl.

  Hissing at the pain in his back, Jordon watched Mic leave the kitchen, her tight shorts hugging her ass and thighs. She was right; he had nothing to be jealous of. However, that didn’t mean he had to like Mr. T-fucking-Carter. Not in the least.

  ****

  The cold was searing my lungs as I ran. We had treadmills and every other piece of gym equipment you could think of in the castle, but there was something about running in the open air that cleared my head. Refusing to think of Chris and Carter right now, I created a mental checklist of all the things I needed to do today. I had a video call with Trident to let them know the results of our cold-weather testing. After that, I needed to finish preparations for Christmas. It was Christmas Eve and I had gifts to wrap. The trick would be getting it done without one of those children peeking. Flynn in particular was like a little boy during the holidays—all joy and sugared-up excitement. I ticked off the miles in my head as I continued on my run, letting my thoughts seep away until there was nothing more than the ground beneath my feet and the air in my lungs.

  I finished up and jogged up the stairs to shower. Loud German rock was blaring from Rook and Roza’s room. Chuckling at their obvious attempt to disguise their activities, I bumped open our door. The bed was empty and neatly made. Where the hell was Chris? I hadn’t seen him since I had left for my run. Hoping Rook hadn’t had too much trouble cleaning up his back, now that I’d blown off some steam I wanted to check on him. Pressing a button on the intercom, I paged Maggie.

  “Yes?” Came her slightly crackly reply.

  “Can you get some breakfast and coffee ready for me, please? I’ll be down in about fifteen.” I made a mental note to talk to Jones about the intercoms. They worked, but sometimes were so full of static that you couldn’t make out who was speaking.

  “Of course. Your usual?” She was referring to my normal strawberry yogurt smoothie and bagel with cheese and bacon.

  “Please. And thanks Maggie.” I released the button and stripped, tossing my clothes into the hamper by the door and striding quickly to the bathroom. The hot water felt amazing on my skin, forcing me to break out in chills before slowly warming up. We were off today, so I could wear what I felt like and not the uniform I’d adopted. Drying off, I dressed in leggings, leg warmers, and knee-high suede boots with a t-shirt and baggy sweater. I wasn’t going to set any new fashion trends, but I was warm and comfortable.

  In the kitchen, I found Rook and Roza, both with wet hair, digging into their food. Breakfast hash by the looks of it. They were engrossed in a conversation in Russian. Just by being around it, I was beginning to pick up a few words. He was filling her in on the events early this morning with Carter and Jordon.

  “I saw a broken mug in the trash and the hall smells like coffee. Did I miss something, Mic?” Maggie asked, setting my plate, coffee, and smoothie in front of me.

  “Nothing of note. We handled it.” The coffee was hot and delicious. This woman worked some kind of magic on the beans that made it taste better than any other coffee I’d ever had.

  “I see. And the bloody gauze also in the trash?” Putting her hand on one hip, she arched a brow and waited for my answer. From experience, I knew that she wasn’t going to let up until I filled her in.

  “It’s my fault.” Carter emerged sporting a few stitches above his eye and walking very stiffly.

  “Damn right, it’s your fucking fault,” I grumbled around a bite of bagel.

  “And who are you?” Maggie was suspicious of everyone, even with our security measures. The only one she immediately took a liking to had been Nickoli and I think it had more to do with his cane and missing leg than anything else.

  “T. Carter, at your service, ma’am.” He extended a hand for her to shake. Ignoring it, she harrumphed and went back to flipping bacon.

  “Find a seat; I’ll feed yo
u. You’ll eat it and like it. I won’t cook special for someone who fights one of the boys here. Jordon I expect.”

  Snorting into my coffee, I enjoyed the shock on his face. Carter was not used to having a negative effect on women of any age. “Well, it looks like your mojo is broken, buddy.” I smiled around a mouthful of food.

  “Whose mojo is broken?” Flynn snatched a slice of bacon from the plate by the stove, earning a slap on the hand from Maggie.

  “Carter’s,” Rook mumbled. Roza quietly giggled next to him.

  “Frankly, I don’t care to hear any further about Carter’s mojo or lack thereof.” Finishing my breakfast, I put my dishes in the sink and earned a nod from Maggie. “I have shit to do.” Leaving them all to finish their breakfast, I headed upstairs to find Chris. Before I got to our room, I saw Nickoli coming out of his, probably heading for breakfast. Dark circles hung heavy under his eyes. “You doing okay? You look like you got high-fived in the face with a chair.”

  “I don’t think I will ever come to understand your strange American sayings. And yes, I am fine.” Reaching down, he rubbed his thigh, perhaps without realizing he was doing it.

  “Really, Nickoli, it’s okay if you’re not. We get it, better than most. You don’t have to fake it for us. We’re family now.” He glared at me, unexpected anger darkening his face.

  “You know nothing of me or my life. Pretending you do does not make you my family.” Tucking his hands into his pockets, he turned on his heel. I jerked on his arm, throwing him off balance mid-stride.

  “Fuck you. Don’t be a bastard. You can be surly and brooding all you fucking want; you’re entitled.” I poked him in the chest with each angry word I threw in his face. “But we’re family because we were here for you when you had nowhere else to go. We’re your family because we care about you and what happens to you. You helped us and paid the price; for that I will never forgive myself and I know I speak for Rook as well.” I paused, taking a breath. His face was blank with shock and surprise. “We’re building something here and you’re part of it. This is your home. If all this…” I waved my arms at the stone around us. “…doesn’t make us family, I don’t know what will.” Half sick with anger and disappointment, I left him standing there and slammed the bedroom door behind me. Chris lurched up in the bed, frantically looking around. “W-what?” Sleep heavy on his face, he relaxed when he saw that it was just me.

  “Sorry.” I sat on the bed, hanging my head in my hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Chris’s hands were warm on my shoulders and I groaned in pleasure when he dug his thumbs into my neck.

  “Nickoli. He’s… I don’t know. Something is wrong with him.”

  “Well, duh. He just lost his leg. Of course he’s upset and acting weird.” Releasing me, Chris stood. I stared at his back, white bandages dotting it. Purple had begun to blossom along his ribs and lower back.

  “How’s your back?” I watched as he pulled a shirt on, covering the bruises and cuts.

  “Hurts, but I’ll live. How’s Carter’s face?” Chuckling, Chris pulled on his shoes.

  “Shitty; a few stitches.”

  “I hope I ruined his pretty fucking mug.” Chris went into the bathroom and shut the door. I followed him, leaning my back against the wall beside it.

  “No, he’s still as handsome as ever.” I shouldn’t have been needling Chris, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Not helping, Bea!” He shouted back.

  Laughing, I waited for him to come out. I looked around our room, at the mementoes we’d begun to collect. The bits and pieces that held memories or significance for either one of us. The framed photo of Mattey, Phillips’s Sig, and inside a drawer, hidden from Chris, was a small box wrapped in cheerful red paper. A surprise. I grinned, feeling my scar stretch.

  “What’s got you so happy?” I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Chris come out.

  “Can’t tell. Santa would know and then all I’d get for Christmas is coal.”

  “You’re not going to get coal. Plus, I don’t know how Santa is going to get past the motion sensors.” Kissing me lightly, he turned to leave. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

  “Santa has magic, duh. Oh and where were you earlier? I came up and showered after my run and you weren’t here.”

  Shrugging, he carefully went down the steps, each step obviously painful. “I knocked some balls around in the pool room until I felt like sleeping a bit.”

  Glancing into the war room as I passed it, I saw a familiar face on the large monitor. Pierce, Rook, and Roza were seated at the table as had become our habit every morning.

  “How did our toys perform for you guys?” Ian Sawyer was skyping with Jones.

  “Dammit, Jones, why didn’t you get me? I was going to make this report.” Shrugging in response, Jones swiveled back to his monitor.

  I turned toward the hallway where Jordon was about to go into the kitchen, snagging his attention. “Hey babe, grab me a cup of coffee will you?”

  “Yeah, babe, go fetch Mic some coffee,” Ian teased, laughing at Jordon’s irritation. Being in a relationship with me was like dating someone with ten brothers—big ones with lots of guns and witty shenanigans.

  “As if you don’t come running when Angie calls for you.”

  “Maybe so, but my angel always makes it worth my while.” Ian grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as I tried to get us back to business.

  “Okay, if we’re done boys? Yes, we loved your toys. The cold didn’t seem to affect their performance at all. Our clients are going to love using them. Thanks again, brother.”

  “Anytime.” Sitting up straighter, Ian seemed to be looking over my shoulder. “Carter? What the ever living hell are you doing there? And what happened to your face?”

  “I happened to him.” Chris handed me a cup of coffee and took a seat at the large table. Carter had a piece of bacon in one hand and coffee in the other. The bruises and small cuts marking his face were more prominent now, darker and fully developed. “I’m just here for the food.” Shrugging, he propped his back against the wall and finished his bacon, licking his fingers clean.

  Ian’s phone buzzed along the table as it rang. He cursed and frantically swiped at the screen to shut off the music; in his haste, he dropped it on the floor. “God dammit, Brody!”

  “Is that… the Chicken Dance?” Flynn ambled into the room, snorting and laughing. He opened his mouth and I knew whatever he was about to say would be good. “Ian? I didn’t know you enjoyed chickens so much. I mean, hell, I didn’t even think you knew how to dance. Must make you pretty happy to be able to enjoy them both at the same time. Does Angie know you like it?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Flynn!” Ian shouted from under the table. Meanwhile, we enjoyed Ian’s pain to its fullest. A hollow thud and muffled curses followed as he hit his head on the underside of the desk. Popping up, his face red with anger and embarrassment, he growled at the monitor. “If you have anything else to report, do it via email. I have an asshole to murder.” The screen went blank before we had a chance to say goodbye in return.

  “Okay then. Jones, the intercoms are crackly as hell. Can you do something with them?”

  “Not sure. Was it the one in your room?” Not looking at me, he kept tapping away on the keys. I had no clue what he was doing, but if the numbers scrolling down his screen were an indication, it wasn’t something I wanted to know anyway.

  “Yeah. When you have a free moment. No rush. As for the rest of you, do whatever you want. It’s Christmas Eve. Jackson and Aunt Beatrice will be here at some point. They’re supposed to be letting me know when their plane lands. Jordon and I will go pick them up.”

  Nickoli could be heard coming down the hallway, his distinctive limping gait giving him away. As he entered the room, he ignored everyone else and came to a stop in front of me. “Mic, may I have a word please?” He looked sideways at Carter and I realized he hadn’t met him last night.

  “Of course.”
Curious and a bit taken aback, I had no clue what he was going to say. “In private?”

  “No. This will do.” He looked around at everyone in the room as Jones stopped his work and turned around to face us.

  “Don’t worry about Carter. He dropped in unexpectedly last night,” I said, indicating the man with a tilt of my head. “He’s an old friend of mine and has more secrets than God. You can be assured your words won’t leave the room if he’s in it.”

  Chapter 5

  Nickoli took a deep breath, all at once nervous. These people, this team standing before him, were all he had left in the world. Forever banished from his homeland, he was struggling to find his place here.

  “Brother, speak your mind.” Rook’s deep rumbling voice spoke to him in Russian. The familiar words were comforting.

  “Da. I’ve been an asshole, for which I need to apologize. Christmas is hard for me. This is the first time I’ve celebrated since I was a boy.” Rook came to stand beside him, supporting him. “I was born in Chernobyl. My father was killed in the accident and my mother died of cancer a few years later.” Pausing to collect himself, he continued. “What I’m attempting to say is, I haven’t had a family in a very long time. I don’t know how to be part of one. But I will try.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Pierce slapped him on the back and left.

  “Hey, it’s okay if you’re an asshole; I am too and could use some help. It’s a tough job being the only one in the group. Maybe we can take turns?” Flynn joked, but his eyes belied a seriousness that didn’t match his words.

  “Sounds good.”

  Mic was staring at him, frowning. “I was too hard on you this morning,” she said.

  “No, you weren’t. I needed it. I can always count on you to tell me the truth, even if I don’t want to hear it.”