Bound for Keeps (Men of Honor) (5 page)

Shane’s face fell a little bit. “I don’t deserve all of this. I’ve caused you a lot of problems.”

“You’ve caused yourself a lot of problems. Keith and I are fine. I know you’ll tell me everything when you’re ready.”

“How can you be so sure of me when Keith’s not?” Shane asked.

“Shane, do you need a safe place to stay?” Reed demanded, keeping his voice down.

Shane looked him in the eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then you’ll stay here and we’ll fucking figure it out, soldier. All right? But for now, I need you to rest so you don’t relapse. You don’t realize how sick you were. And you still are.”

Shane’s face flushed from the speech, but partially from the fever. He managed to say, “Okay”, and Reed could tell he was holding back tears.

“I know what it’s like to mourn someone. Trust me. Keith and I both do.”

“I do trust you. I don’t know why, but I do,” Shane told him.

“Good. Then lie back and go to sleep. I’ll make you some dinner for when you wake. By then, you’ll be hungry.”

He listened, tucked himself in and closed his eyes the second his head hit the pillow. Reed left the door open and reached into his pocket for his phone, which had been buzzing for the last ten minutes.

Proph had given up on calling and had just emailed him—short and sweet, and Reed glanced in at the sleeping Shane before heading toward the bedroom where Keith waited.

“You get anything else out of him?”

“He admitted he was in the Army. And I heard from Proph. He was dishonorably discharged.”

“But he didn’t tell you that part himself.”

“No,” Reed admitted. “But it just doesn’t sound like him.”

“Because you know him so well.”

Keith had his arms folded across his chest. He was pushing Reed’s buttons, purposely, and Reed might’ve known why, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. And he sure as hell didn’t.

“I’m not allowed to have intuition? Because it’s kept me alive for a damned long time.”

“Ditto,” Keith said, and Reed couldn’t argue with that. Didn’t want to argue at all. Only time would tell whose intuition would pan out.

Chapter Five

Night blended into day. Shane’s sleep was long and fevered and interrupted often by meds and fever-breaking sweats and dreams. He wasn’t sure it was illness alone. He figured he was partially in mourning, which he’d avoided for as long as possible. This was the culmination of months and months on the run, attempting to hold it together.

He’d finally failed. Thankfully, he wasn’t alone as he paid the price.

The worst was waking up to his own screams. At first, he’d barely skim the surface, unable to stop the panic himself, not until he felt Reed’s or Keith’s touch. They talked to him in low, comforting voices. Reassured him. He knew they stayed in bed next to him sometimes and he was too grateful to be ashamed he needed that.

At times, they’d soak him in cool cloths, wiping his forehead and cheeks and chest. Once, he remembered fighting them when they lowered him into a cold bath. But then the fever broke and he calmed. He slept against Keith’s chest, woke in the morning, alone and wondering if it had all been a dream.

But it hadn’t been. Because as he got his strength back, they brought him food. Put movies on. Sat with him until he fell asleep, usually making it no more than twenty minutes in.

He’d catch snippets on their conversations. It was apparent how close they were, half the time finishing each other’s sentences. He heard the name Bobby sometimes and their tones would grow somber. Other times there would be laughter and teasing.

It was weeks past the New Year when he was well enough to declare himself fine.

“You’re better, but you’re nowhere near fine,” Reed corrected him immediately. “You need rest now more than ever, because you’ll be a prime candidate for relapse.”

He wanted to complain but he was alive. The men understood his restlessness, brought him books and magazines and a laptop to help. Keith walked with him across the porch that extended along three quarters of the cabin, making him wrap himself like a mummy to do so.

Reed said the cold air was good for his lungs.

He was weak, but being in good shape before all of this started helped him a great deal.

Plus, he was hardheaded, as Keith told him more times than he could count.

Keith was at least six foot five. He was big by nature but not like some beefed-up muscle guy. He worked out but he moved gracefully for someone his size. Reed was tall and lean, moved near silently and always seemed to catch Shane when he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to, like get out of bed himself.

He was getting more irritable as the days passed. Horny too.

“Means you’re almost back to normal,” Reed told him.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” he muttered. And that night, when he found himself exactly that, he regretted telling them to stay away. Jerked himself off twice with no real relief. Slept. Woke screaming after he had the dream about the day he’d heard Kyle screaming and stared at his wrists like he’d expected them to be still chained.

Fuck. He never had that part of the dream—never let himself go there. He blamed the illness and the drugs.

He was bathed in sweat. Shaking. Sure the fever had returned but the thermometer confirmed no. Reed brought in the basin and washcloths anyway. As Shane sat in the middle of the bed, unable to share because he was engulfed in his silent pain, Reed washed him down. Patted him dry. Made him drink sugary soda and take pain meds.

He didn’t allow himself to cry until Reed left. Reed came back in several minutes after he’d stopped sobbing, further cementing Shane’s belief that the man knew just about everything, including when Shane needed him.

“He’s finally asleep,” Reed said as he finally dragged into bed sometime after three in the morning after a couple more weeks of monitoring Shane and his illness. He was getting better but it was a slow, uphill battle and the freezing early February temperatures weren’t making things easier.

“He’s a cranky bastard,” Keith muttered as he put down the iPad in favor of giving Reed’s shoulders a much-needed massage. Reed moaned gratefully, moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck in the process.

“He’s better, and right now, that’s all that counts,” Reed declared, hearing the exhaustion heavy in his voice—he’d slipped back into the heavy drawl that always came out more during those times. “We played poker. He took all my cash.”

Keith snorted. “He’s definitely better. Told me to fuck off last night.”

“No shit?”

“With his back turned, muttered under his breath when he thought I’d left the room.”

“And he’s smart too.” Reed knew Shane had started to grow on Keith. When he found Keith in bed with Shane after one particularly long, worrisome night, he knew letting Shane go might not be the best option.

And after his initial tries at escape, Shane didn’t seem to have a problem with staying, no matter how restless he’d gotten.

“He was really sick, wasn’t he?” Keith asked, although he knew, had watched Reed fighting the fever as the storm barreled in and snowbound them. If need be, they could’ve gotten him to a hospital, but there wouldn’t be much more that could be done for him. It was meds, keep the fever down and faith that everything would turn out the way it was supposed to.

It had taken those first forty-eight hours after Shane tried to escape before he finally turned the corner from needing the intensive care unit to merely being very sick. In the meantime, Reed consulted with another doctor down the road who concurred with the course of treatment. Pneumonia took time to break, and finally, Reed had heard the clearing in Shane’s lungs, felt the coolness of his forehead.

After that, it was a matter of keeping him from doing too much while not letting him remain bedridden. They walked him around, used the coughing machine to get the junk out of his lungs.

He got stronger day by day.

“Yeah, he was sick. But I don’t think that’s all of it. I think…maybe he’s mourning Kyle. I don’t know how long ago he died—didn’t want to pry or piss him off—but it’s like, I don’t think he’d ever let himself mourn before this.” He collapsed back on the bed when Keith finished the massage, stared at the ceiling. “He’s been running from it.”

“Can’t blame him.”

“I don’t think he’s got anywhere else to go.”

“I wasn’t planning on kicking him out into the snow tonight.”

He turned on his side to stare at Keith as the man flipped through pages of guns and ammo on his iPad. “Well, you’re just so damned generous, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Keith favorited some pages with quick flicks of his finger. Reed had always loved the man’s fingers—they were thick and strong, with perfect, clean blunt-cut nails. Now, he reached out to thread his fingers through Keith’s free hand, pulled it to his mouth and kissed the top of it. “Now you’re just sucking up.”

“That’s not sucking. I can show you sucking.”

“Less talking, Army boy.”

Reed snorted but allowed Keith to pull him close. “You’re leaving in a few days.”

“You gonna be all right here with him?” Keith asked in all seriousness.

“Yeah, I will be. But if you’re going to stress about this while you’re away—”

“I won’t. If I thought I would, I’d never have taken the job. Shane’s sick—he needs to get better. Once that happens…”

“Once that happens, it’ll happen,” Reed said. “Now shut up and fuck me, all right?”

Keith sensed it first, but Reed was by his side in seconds. Both men had hastily dressed and shoved on boots, and they ignored the weather. Reed had his weapon and he said, “Cover me,” as he slid around the side of the house. Keith remained in place, not able to leave Shane inside unprotected.

He hoped Shane remained inside, didn’t wake and come looking for them. He took the binoculars and scanned the outer perimeters for snipers.

“Second set of prints. Boots, size nine, headed to and from the woods,” Reed confirmed. “House intact—he didn’t plant anything.”

Which meant no bombs or bugs.

“Is this blowback from a job?” Keith wondered out loud.

“Don’t know. But I’ll gear up and take the ATV into the woods.”

“I’m going with you.”

“You can’t. Shane can’t stay alone.”

As if he needed reminding. “He can handle himself—and weapons.”

“I don’t want him to wake up screaming again,” Reed reasoned. “Let him think he’s still safe. Don’t ruin it.”

Keith wanted to tell Reed that it wasn’t fair, that he deserved to know. But he understood Reed wanting to give Shane any kind of peace he could. And when Reed came back out quickly, more fully armed, and jumped on the ATV, Keith wondered if he’d even thought about the fact that whoever was out there might not be for them, but rather, coming for Shane.

The bigger question was why.

He checked the area through the binoculars again. Got a few texts from Reed that the tracks went down to the road, where they met with tire tracks from an SUV.

He would follow them as far down the road as he could, see what direction they went.

Which might tell them nothing. There were very few places to stay around here, unless he was staying with friends.

Could be a hunter, Keith told himself. Could all be a false alarm.

But it never was.

Reed followed the tracks to the main road—there was no point in attempting to go farther, since it was a muddy mess of tire tracks mixed with ATV and footsteps. What was important was that he’d been right—there had been eyes on him.

He promised himself that he’d never ignore his gut feelings again as he roared up the road back to the cabin. The next storm was rolling in—the past month had brought the messiest weather Reed remembered seeing since…

Since Christmas Eve and that entire winter, eight years ago.

Keith was still waiting for him on the porch. He pulled up next to the man and cut the engine.

“Whoever it is, he’s been watching us for weeks,” Reed said, and Keith unconsciously turned his head halfway toward the cabin’s doorway. They were both thinking the same thing.

“You said you thought he was running from something. Looks like it’s someone,” Keith said now.

“He’s not ready to tell us.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Keith said.

“But we both know it does. He’s in trouble. He’s scared. And that’s what we do—we protect people.”

“People who ask for our protection,” Keith argued.

“I’d say waking up screaming means he needs some kind of protection,” Reed retorted. “We should just put up extra security measures here.”

“And we don’t tell Shane any of it?” Keith asked. “Because maybe he knows what’s going on. Maybe he’s bringing danger to our door.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. But…don’t ask him yet, Keith. Please. For me.”

“Dammit, Reed.” Keith’s voice was angry, but his eyes held the understanding Reed needed to see.

Chapter Six

Someone was stroking his cheek. He wanted to murmur “Kyle”, but he knew that wasn’t right. The touch was different. Even in his sleep he was actively pressing his cheek to the hand, nuzzling it.

The scent was familiar. He liked it. He might’ve even groaned a little in his sleep.

And then the whole being-watched feeling overtook the pleasure, and he grasped the wrist of whoever it was. Hard.

It was pulled away equally so. He heard footsteps, and he rolled out of bed, standing before he was anything close to fully awake and remembering things. Like Keith and Reed, their cabin. And the fact that his ribs ached like a mother because he’d been pushing too hard.

He blinked, grabbed the side of the bed and saw Keith watching him. “What the hell?”

“I didn’t expect you to jump out of bed like that. I was just checking on you.” Keith’s voice was gruff from getting caught even as Shane leaned back against the mattress. As much as he wanted to crawl back in, he knew that would hurt and he was still trying to catch his breath from the overriding, intense pain that first movement caused.

He could still feel Keith’s fingers that had been stroking his cheek.