Devastate (Havoc Series Stand Alone Book 5) (14 page)

              Sharply I bite, “Why the fuck did you lie to me?”

              “Is this actually about me? Or is this about why did your family lie to you?”

              “This is about you!” I shout. “Why did you fucking lie to me! You promised! You fucking looked me in the face and promised!” Jazz remains still. Silent. I'm not even sure she's still breathing. “Say something!”

              “When you're done yelling,” her voice snips.

              “I get to yell! You fucking lied to me Jazz! The woman I fucking love lied to me! Why! I wanna know why! Why does everyone feel they have to fucking lie to me!”

              “Because we have your best intentions at heart.”

              “That's bullshit!” I scream knocking Ma's glass vases onto the ground with a hard swat. “That's bullshit!”

              “God, what is with you three?” She says in an irked voice. “Just because the world makes you mad doesn't mean you have to destroy something. I swear when you're upset, you're all like toddlers who didn't get a nap.”

              “Explain!” Unable to control my breath, my chest heaves harder and harder, pain starting to set in. “Why didn't you let us go home? Why did you make me fucking stay here?”

              “Because it's what you needed,” she calmly answers. “I always do what's best for you three. I don't always give you what you want, but I always provide you what you need.”

              “I didn't
need
to be here.”

              “You did.” She curtly nods. “You needed a chance to see the man your grandfather wanted you to be. The man you kept hidden and almost lost. You needed to be able to say goodbye.”

              “Goodbye?” the word chokes a realization inside of me. “Did you...did you know he was gonna die? Was he sick? Did you fucking know he was sick?”

              With her chin tilted up to stay strong she replies, “I did.”

              “Are you fucking with me Jazz? You knew! You knew and you didn't fucking tell me! How! How did you know?”

              “I told you. I'm accurate.”

              “You--”

              “Did my research. Through and through. I'm thorough. I'm accurate. I'm--”

              “A heartless bitch,” the sentence falls from my lips and for the first time a flash of sadness is in her gorgeous green eyes. “That's what you are. You knew he was dying and didn't say a goddamn thing...”

              She swallows, but says nothing.

              “Those fucking files are filled with everything aren't they? You already knew everything about me huh? Learning about me was, what, a pathetic attempt at entertaining yourself?”

              “Lordy I--”

              “No!” I shout at her taking a violent step forward. “You don't get to call me that! That's what my
family
gets to call me! People who love me--”

              “I do love you! I'm--”

              “No! You're lying again! I'm nothing more than another soldier to you! A fucking work horse to make sure you get a check plus on your fucking exam! You don't get to call me Lordy. You...You may call me jacket,
ma'am
.”

              Her entire body tenses as her lips tremble. “You're--”

              “That means you know.” I ignore whatever was about to come out of her mouth. “That means you fucking know! You know if my DNA matches theirs. You know if I'm really a Lord don't you?” Jazz glances away. “Fucking answer me!”

              “Of course I fucking know!” The cool collected act falls to shit. “I've always fucking known! It's in your fucking file Jody! Your files, all of you, every little dark secret, every little cobweb in the corner you think no one notices, is documented! You all have shit in your past that directs where your fucking future is headed every single goddamn day and it is my job, it is my fucking responsibility to be able to see the 50 million different paths you may take when you wake up in the morning, because if any of those paths threaten your ability to serve this country I have to know! So yes, I know whether or not your blood matches those dickheads you've shared family meals with!”

              Calmly I fold my arms. “Does it?”

              “I'm not answering that.”

              “Answer me.”

              “No.”

              “No it doesn't?”

              “No, I won't answer you.”

              “Answer me!”

              “No!” She screams back. “I'm not gonna give you one more excuse to make some poor decision. Your grandfather set up that will, those contracts, everything that way for a fucking reason. And if you wanna go about self-discovery all on your own, fucking fine. But I will, I repeat, I will not tarnish his legacy or yours by answering a question that doesn't change the fact you were his grandson.”

              “You don't get to decide that!”

              “Apparently I do,” she smarts back.

              “It's not your family to make those calls on!”

              “And yet here I am.” Jazz waves a hand in the air. “Now, you know why I lied to you about finishing my reports. But I didn't lie. When you asked, my reports were done, but...something wasn't sitting right with me, so I reopened them and started again.”

              Anger still coursing my veins I sneer, “We could've been fucking home. We should've been. You kept me here! I didn't wanna stay! I stayed because I thought I was fucking obligated! I should've been given the freedom to make my own fucking choices! I should've been able to choose if I wanted my DNA tested! I should've been able to choose if I wanted to spend my grandfather's last days with him! I should've been given the right to fucking choose Jazz!”

              “I did...” her voice gets caught on a sob. “I did what I always do for you boys. What was best. And this was it. You know why it worries Shepard so much with you three as my team? Because I do shit like this. Because it is more important to me that the three of you die with a clear conscious. With no regrets. With a smidgen of happiness! Because instead of treating you like employees, I treat you like family. I aim to protect you and to heal you instead of purely train you! Why? Sometimes I think it's penance for my own existence. Other times, I know after crunching the numbers a solider with something to fight for in his heart will always fight harder and smarter than one with nothing.”

              In an airy voice I deny, “You don't get to talk to me about family...” Shaking my head I pin her with a stare. “You know absolutely
nothing
about family.”

              “I know the three of you are the true definition of brothers. And whether or not you choose to acknowledge or accept it now, I am a member of the family you three have created. You can't let what happened here destroy what you have with us.”

              “You don't get to talk to me about family.”

              “You can't let how they treated you here effect the man you truly are.”

              “You don't get to tell me how to feel about that.” The words tighten her to a new level I've never seen before. “You think you had it bad because your family ignored you? You have no idea how bad shit really can get. You have no fucking clue what's it's like to wake up in tears as a six year old because your own fucking mother can't look you in the goddamn eyes!”

              Jazz wets her lips and takes a slow step at me. “Do. Not. Tell me I don't know what that feels like.” Her face that was just heated with anger is now colder than I've ever seen it. An unfamiliar chill runs up my spine. “My parents didn't want me. I don't mean that in a melodramatic rebellious teen with money sort of way. I mean my mother tried to fucking have me aborted and it didn't work.” The confession drops more than my jaw. “I didn't have a name until the day they took me home from the hospital. They let one of the nurses name me after her favorite flower. My nursery was never painted. Room never decorated. My clothes weren't full of color or life. If it wasn't for my nannies I wouldn't have ever known fucking human contact. Babies die without that contact! The possibility of me dying wasn't even enough for them to touch me! I don't know what it's like to be a six year old who wakes up in tears because my mother won't look me in the goddamn eyes? Try being a three year old and having her tell you, you should've never been fucking born. I didn't go to boarding schools to have the best of the best, I went to boarding schools so I wasn't in their way. And the only reason I wasn't put up for adoption was because they were concerned how that would look in front of their precious social circle.” Leaning out of my face, Jazz stands up straight, the ice queen we first met ready to give an order. “I'm leaving.”

              “Jazz--”

              “I have to report back today,” she continues. “The chances of me being a part of this team any longer are so thin a piece of copy paper would jam it.” My eyes search hers for a glimmer of hope. Something to let me know that this isn't over. That when we get home we'll fight this out and shit will get better. That this won't die too. “Most likely, if Shepard can't have me completely removed from HORN, he will indefinitely have me relocated very far away from this team. From you. With a stipulation of course being no further contact. So before I walk out that door Jacket, I just wanna say, that I...”

              When the sentence seems to drift off with no return, I step closer, a shaky hand reaching out for her. “That you what darlin'? That you what?”

              Ever so briefly her green eyes flash remorse. “That I am proud to have served with you men.” The cold response has me moving back the direction I came. “I'm flying out this evening. Glove and Grim are booked on flights for tomorrow night. Given your circumstances, I could only cash in the last of my favors to get you one additional day. You will fly out the following morning. You are expected to go from the airport directly to HORN. Someone will be there to escort you. Excuse me, Jacket.”

              I move aside. Jazz walks past me, grabs her shoulder bag and wheels her suitcase out of the room, stride never slowing, eyes never looking back. Another death today. The girl I've fallen in love with, the relationship we both needed, as lifeless as the man who pushed us together.

Day 30 in Georgia

             
“Rascal you can't hide in here forever,” Pa's voice calls out.

              He's wrong. I can. I'm small enough to fit in this old chest forever. I'll sneak out at night to grab food then sneak back. I have it all figured out. Except bathroom breaks. I haven't quite worked that one out yet.

              “I know you're upset about what Jo said at the dinner table,” he sighs his voice approaching.

              Doing my best to stay stiff, I hold my breath. Jo's always saying something not nice.

              “But you can't hide when the world gets a little mean to ya. You just have to put on your big boy boots and get back on the horse, Rascal. You have a big important life to live. You can't do that hidin'.”

              A splash of cold water shoots my body off the mattress. Gasping away the shock, I wiggle my head back and forth splashing water around. My eyes struggle to adjust to the light as much as the vision of Ma standing at my bedside with an empty cup and stern expression.

              “What the hell, Ma?” I try to wipe away more water.

              “Don't make me fill the next one with soap,” she snaps.

              The sound of laughter brings my attention to Grim and Glove leaned against the bedroom door frame. Slightly annoyed I call to them, “So you think this is funny? Did you tell her to do this?”

              “I'm a grown woman, Rascal. I make my own choices.”

              “She decided on it. I just didn't object.” Grim surrenders his hands.

              Glove laughs, “I told her to get a bigger bucket.”

              “What the hell?” I repeat closing my eyes in frustration. “What was the point in this?”

              “You needed a wake-up call,” Ma states.

              “Since when is a shoulder shake not enough?”

              “I wasn't talkin' about gettin' up this mornin', Rascal.” The sentence is followed with me flickering my eyes briefly at my brothers who have similar expression to hers, in complete agreement. Fucking seriously? All the shit they wanted to give me over the situation and now they wanna agree with her? Did I wake up in the Twilight Zone? “We will discuss it after Pa's burial.”

              “What?” Bafflement pops on my face. “He died yesterday. You can't possibly be burying him today.”

              “I can. And I will.” She drops her hands onto her hips. “Pa wanted his death handled a very specific way, which you would know had you read the papers he left you. He wanted it all to unfold a certain way. Stubborn even in death I tell ya.  Now get dressed. Buckle on. Nice button down shirt. Jeans. No hat.”

              “No hat?”

              “Pa has one he wants you to wear downstairs.” The memory seems to place a gentle smile on her face. “Don't be late to your grandfather's funeral. I'll get a bigger spoon.”

              As quickly as I assume she came, she disappears past my friends. Glove immediately turns to me. “I just want you to know. I'd wear a tie if had to. But only for you...”

              “You wore a tie at my wedding.” Grim shakes his head. “And Haven's graduation. And dinner at Mindy's two weeks ago...”

              “You're really killing the moment,” Glove huffs.

              The kidding between the two of them slightly brightens the fact that I have to be awake to bury the man who meant more to me than they do. As the fight with Jazz swirls back into my brain, the smile drops. I have to bury him without her. The same woman who if she hadn't done what she did, I would've never gotten the chance to say goodbye. The same woman who gave me these final days because I needed them. Because he needed them. If I hadn't had the chance to make amends before he died, I would've hated myself forever for it. Never forgiven myself.

              “Oh look,” Grim speaks up. “The magnitude of what he said yesterday is kicking in.” When my eyes shoot to him he smirks. “Been there.”

              “Could you two...could y'all--”

              “Hear you?” Glove finishes for me. “Pretty sure everyone in the Alabama could hear you.”

              “Really?” Grim folds his arms across his chest. “Alabama.”

              “That's the right state!”

              “No. I know that. I'm surprised
you
know that.”

              “Hey, I can read a map,” he defends himself.

              “Read seems like a strong word,” Grim mumbles, walking away with Glove on his heels.

              Once again left alone, I let out a deep exhale knowing no matter how I feel or what I want today, it doesn't matter. I have to be there for Pa. I have to do what he wanted. One last time.

              Outside across the property underneath Ma's favorite peach tree, we're gathered together. To one side of the burial, standing slightly behind me is Haven, Grim, and Glove. On the other, my mother, father, and supposed brothers. At the foot of Pa's freshly made grave, Ma.

              “This was supposed to be family only,” Jo gripes. I notice the bruise from where I hit him shining strong.

              “At least the city witch is gone,” Mary Beth adds.

              “Both of you,” my father hisses. “Show some respect.”

              “They are family,” I speak softly. “Pa said so himself.”

              “Crazy old man thought everyone was family.” Johnson rolls his eyes.

              “And what is wrong with that Johnson Carter Lord?” Ma raises her voice. “Maybe if you lived your life like that you'd stay out of trouble.”

              “Really?” My father grunts. “We're gonna do this? On the day we bury him?”

              “Oh hush your false tears,” Ma snips. “He wasn't your husband.”

              “He was my father--”

              “That you rarely treated him as unless it came to your inheritance or the company, so please Jonathan, for the sake of my sanity today, hush your mouth.” Hearing Ma not only get sassy, but demand that we all get along pins my lips together. She's right. She deserves as much peace as she can get. When this is all over, when we all walk away to return to our lives, it's her who has to live in that big house without him. It's her who has to wake up every morning with no one to make breakfast for. It's her who will truly be alone.

              “Is the pastor not comin'?” Joshua questions.

              “No,” Ma answers. “Pa didn't want that, which you'd know if you didn't just skip to the end of his 'In Case of Death' papers looking for when the inheritance will be announced.”

              Sheepishly I speak up, “I didn't get to read those wishes.”

              “Too busy playin' house with little miss high horse you had no business bringin' 'round,” Mary Belle snaps.

              “Everyone is entitled to happiness Mary Belle,” Ma calmly says. “Jo poorly chose you even after what you did to his brother. Rascal, has the same right to choose who he wants, even if he was an idiot yesterday taking out his grievances on that poor girl.”

              I open my mouth to argue.

              “Shut it or I'll get the spoon.” Doing as instructed I let my shoulders slump. “It's not important you didn't read the papers, Rascal. What's important is what happens now. He wanted you to say the final words of his death.”

              Like a sharp dagger straight to my heart I gasp at the pain of the request. Quickly I whisper, “I...I can't...”

              “You can,” Ma demands pulling out a piece of paper from her clutched purse. “And you will.” She offers the paper to me and when I don't reach for it she encourages, “Go on. Take it.”

              An uncomfortable sigh leaves me as I do. I unfold the paper, eyes falling directly to the highlighted part.

             
-On the day of my death or as I prefer it be known, the day I share my first shot of whiskey with the Lord, Jody Eugene Lord you will say these final words on my behalf. They will be honest. They will be genuine. They will hurt. You will cry, but Rascal, try to hold back as many tears as you can because I'm gonna convince the good Lord to do shots with me each time you cry over my grave. We want a strong buzz. Not sloppy can't stand. Now be Rascal and do your Pa proud.-

              Looking up, I mumble, “He was crazy...”

              “Of course he was,” Ma retorts.

              “What's it say?” Jo questions.

              Folding the paper back I slide it in my back pocket. “Did you read your paperwork?”

              “I did. And where it discusses what is to be said, there's just a line that says Rascal will know.” Jo gripes. “So, what'd it say?”

              “What it needed to,” I answer proudly. Standing up straight I look down at his grave and shake my head. “You Pa were a hot mess. You were loud. You were spontaneous. Pushy. Stubborn. Passionate. You were the definition of living. You were the expectation of what a Lord should be.” Lifting my eyes to my family I say, “And that's something I think all of us need to be better about. Pa wanted the Lord name to live on. He wanted the legacy to never die, which is why raising me was so goddamn important.”

              To my surprise Ma smirks.

              “While you may all share his name, you don't share his values. You don't share the bond we had, not because he didn't want it with you, but because you didn't want it with him. You lie.” My eyes cut to my parents. “You manipulate.” They land on Jo and Mary Ellen. “You rely on status.” I give Joshua a look. “You're selfish.” I end on Johnson. “But he loved you anyway, because that's what a family does.” My face falls back to the grave. “I know that now, Pa. I get it. Being a Lord has never been about the name or the company. It's always been about family. And I'm proud to be a Lord.” A tear drops on my cheek. “And Glove and Grim are proud to be Lord's too. Jazz and Haven. I'll make sure they help me carry on the legacy Pa. I promise.”

              At that point two heavy hands drop on each of my shoulders, the pressure from both the same. The message simple. Unification. Camaraderie. Family. All the things I wanted my entire life I had...and still do.

              Ma sniffles looking at Pa's grave. “May God have as much fun with you as I did.”

              I reach my hand over to hold hers.

              Once we're linked she raises her face to them. “You are free to go. Copies of what you will be inheriting will be sent out next week. I expect to see all of you at family dinner before then.”

              My three brothers nod before heading back to the house with Mary Beth. Instead of trailing behind my father looks across the grave at me and says, “Well said Jody. Pa would've been proud.” Not knowing what to say I simply nod. “And Ma--”

              “No Jonny,” she sighs. “Not today. It's not the day for apologies. Let me have today for peace.”

              “Yes ma'am,” he surrenders but drops a kiss on her cheek. “I love you Ma. Pa too.”

              “Wise to remember not just to say it,” she sternly says. “I'll see you later this week.”

              Once they're gone the five of us stand under the shade of the tree in silence for a little while longer. Nothing needs to be said. Nothing needs to be done. Glove and Grim eventually let me go and I hold Ma as she cycles through the same emotions I do staring at the pile of dirt that has a peach nestled on top of it. Tears quickly replace smiles as smiles quickly push out the sadness, the merry go round of feelings enough to exhaust even the strongest willed person.

              Back at the house we gather around the dining room table, me in Pa's old spot with a glass half full of his favorite drink. I don't plan to have it, but there's something simply soothing in the smell. Grim's in the seat I claimed as mine so many years ago with Haven beside him. The chair that used to belong to Jazz. His arm is draped around her, the cloud of death surely toying with the halo of life they should be embracing. Glove is on the other side of me, toying with the label to a beer bottle, a bittersweet expression on his face.

              “When's your flight?” I finally ask leaning back in the seat.

              “Four hours,” Grim replies. “So after we eat...”

              “You gotta run.” I nod. “No big deal. I'll see you when I get home tomorrow, right?”

              “Assuming we all still have jobs,” Glove mumbles.

              “Now's not the time,” Grim commands, eyes briefly glancing at Haven.

              She catches on too quickly. “Why would you--”

              “Don't worry about it,” Grim consoles her. “You worry about keeping a happy relaxed home for our child that's coming. Okay?” Before she can object he adds, “I promise to give you space. I promise I'll let you breathe...”

              Haven smiles sweetly. “You better or I'll be getting a wooden spoon.”

              “Already packed you one honey,” Ma announces placing a couple containers on the table. After the three of us chortle she informs us, “These casseroles came from two of the girls from my bridge club. The plate of ribs is from the Millers.”