Promises 2 (30 page)

Keeping his breathing even, he thought of what was important to him. He thought about his big brother. About his team, his new band of brothers. He thought about Jenkins. He owed it to him to fight every day. He’d given his life so Brian could live. When Jenkins took his last breath in Brian’s arms, he’d promised him, promised he’d never give up in that cave, and he damn sure wasn’t going to give up now and let some haughty doctor take his life because of a mistaken identity, not after everything he’d been through.

He could hear Dana’s tricked out muscle car in the distance. If he was already here… so were the others. But where? Obviously, they hadn’t pulled into the parking lot; they had to be approaching on foot. Now it was time to notify the cops. He used his thumb to push the button for 911, he held it longer than needed, making sure they got the call. Cops would come flying towards them with sirens wailing and scare the shit out of the wannabe hitman. He hoped he hadn’t waited too long, but he was confident his brother and friends were getting ready to make a move any minute.

The gunman gripped Brian under his chin and knocked the butt of his gun into his jaw hard enough for him to fear it was broken… again. The pain was immediate and devastating, but he steeled his resolve. He’d taken worse blows than this pussy could give. This fake gangster wouldn’t know torture if he gave him a ten hour lecture on it. Now the Taliban… they knew how to torture.

“Shit. Stop. Stop. That’s not him.” The third thug let the phone dangle from his fingers. Now it was someone else’s turn to look sick. “This guy doesn’t have a long ass ponytail, Jake.”

“You idiot. Don’t say my goddamn name,” the leader yelled, pushing the guy hard in his back.

Okay, it was now or never. Brian couldn’t wait any longer. Only one man was wearing a mask, the other had actually used his cell phone to call the person who hired them, and now Brian knew one of the men’s legal names.

“What? What do you mean, it’s not him?!” The gun holder yelled.

The phone was blaring an irritating dial tone, and the third guy looked like he was about to shit himself. “The guy, Quick, or something. Has long hair. Really long. This guy is almost bald.”

“I’ll make you fuckin’ talk.” The gunman sneered and squeezed Brian’s already bruised jaw. Bile stirred instantly in his stomach and threatened to spew out from the pain. Brian spit the blood from his mouth onto the guy’s shoe.
I’ll pay you myself, ya punk, if you can make me talk again.

“Answer me!” The man boomed, standing over him.

When he finally looked up into the man’s eyes, ready to make his move, he noticed a red dot, bright and steady in the center of his forehead. Brian tried to brace himself, but nothing prepared you for death. Ever.

Bye, bye.

The sound of glass shattering, and the disgusting grunt of pain from the gunman’s mouth right before his head exploded in the middle of their office, triggered an involuntary reaction in Brian. He tried to curl in on himself at the same moment the body was propelled ten feet away from him by the bullet’s impact. The lifeless body hit the wooden floor with a punishing thud. His arms and legs bent and twisted in unnatural directions. When Brian chanced a look, the gunman’s head was half off, practically split in two, and one wide-open eye stared back at him. He would’ve cried out if he’d been able. He needed his brother, needed him to save him… again.

Ford! Ford! Why couldn’t he just yell? He wasn’t sure, but it felt like his mouth was forming the words, but there was no sound. Like always.

Duke and Quick were busting through the door before realization had computed for the remaining assailants. The two men started to panic when they saw the state their partner was in. It would make even the toughest S.O.B. cringe in the instant right before his brain kicked in and told him to bolt. The one who’d made the phone call was already on the floor retching when Ford busted through the back door, both guns drawn and aimed. His sharp eyes took in the entire scene, including Brian’s busted face. Still running, Ford went for the first man he saw, with his full momentum. He kicked the scared thug in his already convulsing stomach, knocking him into the wall. The impact hard enough to cause him to bounce off it, and Ford’s huge boot was there and poised again. His next blow landed in the center of the guy’s chest, sending him sliding across the bloody floor, putting him right next to his dead partner in crime.  

Ford looked back at his brother, and dropped to his knees, gently cupping Brian’s bruised face. “I’m here, Brian.”

He knew his brother was there, could hear him, but he couldn’t see him. His eyes were blurry and moisture leaked down his face. All he could see was Jenkins looking at him like he had in that cave. The visage wore a clear look of disappointment and was aimed at Brian for breaking his promise.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill all of you,” Ford hollered, standing back up and going for the man Quick had already secured.

Quick

“Duke! Get him,” Quick yelled, trying to shield the man from Ford’s wrath. They already had one dead. They needed the other two alive for questioning. They had no idea why these three men were in their office beating the shit out of Brian. Was it a bond gone wrong? We’re they trying to rob him? They knew nothing. But if they let Ford kill them all, it would stay that way.

Duke and Dana pulled Ford off of Quick’s back when he tried to get to the other attacker. The man looked relieved that Quick was there, and he used his big body as a shield. “Help me.”

“Shut up,” Quick snapped at the guy, standing back up to his full height when Dana and Duke had Ford under control.

“It’s you. You’re… you’re Quick.”

Quick looked down at the guy and it was like a light bulb turned on in all of their heads at once. Ford scowled at Quick, and Duke was at his side in a heartbeat. Damn, he didn’t want to have to fight Ford. But he understood his fury. His brother – a previous prisoner of war – had taken Quick’s beating. While he’d been laid up under his loving doctor, Brian was taking his ass whupping. Shit.

Quick put his hands up. “Ford. I’m gonna fix this.”

“
We’re
gonna fix this,” Duke added, staying close to Quick’s side.

“They attacked my brother because they thought he was you.” Ford’s tone was sinister and angry. Ignoring the loud wail of sirens closing in on them, Ford stepped into Quick’s space. He was prepared to take a punch if he had to. He deserved it. Quick was the one who had goaded a wealthy man and taken his prized possession, now his family was paying for his selfishness. “If you don’t take care of it… I will. I’ll eliminate any and every one who’s a threat to Brian.”

“I’m not a threat to any of you. You know that. You know me, Ford.”

“Then it’s that goddamn doctor of yours. Where is he?” Ford yelled.

He better be home in my bed.

“Are you threatening him? Are you threatening Cayson?” Quick didn’t realize he was advancing until he felt Duke’s palm against his sternum. Dana looked too confused to pick a side, so he stood there, his still-smoking rifle in his hand.

“Easy. Calm down, Rome.” Duke was there in front of him, but Quick was still locked on Ford’s stealthy eyes while he held his brother. Was he thinking about getting even? Rome realized he didn’t know the lengths to which Ford would go to protect his blood. Duke, Dana, and him were nothing more than colleagues when it came down to it. Brian was something else altogether to Ford. If Ford hurt Cayson… Quick snarled, his body starting to shake from an adrenaline spike. “Rome, look at me. Look at me damnit.”

Quick closed his eyes and then opened them again. Ford was still watching him carefully, but Quick looked at his best friend and listened to his words. Duke knew how to bring him back from the edge. If Ford thought he was angry, he hadn’t seen anything yet. Ford reacted well, compared to what Quick could do. Ford could be pulled back and held. When Rome got angry and unleashed his specially trained beast, there was no holding him. There wasn’t a submission hold he couldn’t break. If Ford was promising retribution, he hoped he aimed it where it belonged. At Dr. Joe.

A fire engine and a paramedic pulled into their tiny parking lot, but the police stopped them from entering. Dana propped his rifle against his desk, raised his hands high in the air. The police entered with their weapons drawn, cautiously moving around them, taking in the dead body and the two subdued perps. None of them moved, waiting for the officers to feel safe enough to tuck their guns back in their holsters.

Duke checked to make sure Rome was calm enough to leave his side.

“I’m okay, Duke,” Rome answered the silent question. “Go help Brian.”

Quick went to stand behind his desk while Duke filled in the officer in charge. Quick wanted to go in Duke’s office and have a stiff drink, while he called Cayson just to hear his voice. Cayson. Fuck. He was there alone. Well, hopefully, he hadn’t left and gone home. It was definitely too dangerous now. He finally got his hands to stop shaking long enough to send Cayson a quick text.

I’m okay. You still at my place?

When Quick lifted his gaze, Brian was being checked over by the paramedics, while the fireman and cops stood over the dead body. Quick groaned under his breath. This was going to take all damn day. Paperwork out the ass, including a lengthy trip downtown for more official statements. Yellow police tape all over their property and the news cameras which were sure to follow, never brought the kind of publicity they were going for. Surely, it was a justified shooting. Dana was a licensed marksman, all he’d done was save SWAT from having to come down and do the job themselves. His phone vibrated in his palm.

Thank god, I’ve been going crazy!! I’m still here. You coming back soon? Was it a false alarm???

God, he wished. It was already daybreak, the sun just barely lighting up the gloomy sky. He looked at his watch.

“You got somewhere to be?” One of the young cops asked Quick, watching him cautiously, raising a cocky brow in his direction. 

He wanted to flick the rookie off. His sculpted biceps were crossed over his starched blue uniform shirt and all the gel-spiked hair screamed “Fresh out of the academy.” He had something to prove to his sergeant, so Quick ignored him. As soon as the paramedics got Brian on the stretcher, Ford walked out with him, his hand firmly inside his brother’s. The driver was shaking his head when Ford tried to climb inside the back. All it did was set off another wave of anger. Surprisingly, Dana ran outside, wrapping his long arms around Ford’s bulk, pulling him backwards while the medics slammed the doors and sped out of the parking lot. Quick watched out the window, not intervening, thinking it better to not add to Ford’s stress. Dana was whispering something in his ear and it appeared to do the trick. It also looked intimate, from where he stood.

Ford turned to look at Dana, neither of their mouths were moving, but their bodies were so close that they could’ve been whispering in each other’s ears.

“What’s going on?” Duke asked, looking to see what Quick was watching so intently. “Oh.”

“Is Dana?”

“I don’t think so.” Quick frowned.

“Is Ford?”

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn. What’d you find out from the cops?”

“It’s exactly what we thought.”

“Goddamnit.”

“Call Cayson. We all need to stick together right now. That distinguished, well-known, very rich doctor just put a hit out on you. We need to make moves.”

“I know.” Quick felt terrible. He watched as Dana ushered Ford into one of the EMS vehicles. They were getting a ride either to the hospital or to their vehicles, which they’d parked around the corner. He wanted to go check on Brian, too, but knew they had to go down to the station.

“Which one of you pulled the trigger?” The rookie cop asked, approaching them from behind with his notepad open.

Duke huffed. “I already told you. My sniper did.”

“And where is he?”

“He just left with the paramedics.”

“He was ordered not to leave.”

“I have an injured man. He went to be with him. And he’s not under arrest; it was a justifiable homicide. Besides, he went to the hospital, not the Bahamas,” Duke argued, digging some papers out of Dana’s desk. He needed to be sure they all had their licenses and credentials when they went to give their statements.

“Um, sir. That’s all official police evidence right now.” The rookie stood erect, his chest jutting out against the cheap blue polyester of his uniform.

“This is my office, probie.” Duke sneered.

“It’s my crime scene at the moment. I’m going to have to ask you to step outside.”

This was new, but then again, there’d never been a homicide in their office. He wasn’t in the mood to argue and hoped Duke wouldn’t either. He was past ready to be out of the office. There was vomit, and even urine, on the floor where one of the perps had pissed himself. The tangy, metallic smell of blood was stifling in the closed space. He knew the smell too well. Couldn’t stand it. But something worse was coming any minute, and he didn’t need the added stench that would surely have him clutching his stomach and throwing up. Post-mortem defecation.