Wild Hearts (Novella) (8 page)

Knox pulled a cold beer from the fridge. “Nothing major. Ethan and I’ll take care of it in the morning.” He leaned against the counter and took a long draw of beer. “Next week I’m going to take the Cessna and meet the boys down in Texas for a couple of days.”

His father gave him a long nod. “That’ll be good for you.” He waited, as though he knew there was more.

Knox grabbed another knife and started working on the green pepper sitting next to the cutting board. “Then I’m going down to Miami and talk to the guy with the private security firm. See about a job.”

His father gave another nod as he dumped the onions into the pan. “Thought you might do that.”

Knox sensed no recrimination in his voice; no disappointment, either. They’d never made him feel obligated to help run the ranch, especially knowing Knox needed to roam. “I’ll be back in time for the cattle branding.”

His father languidly stirred the onions. “You know, you can stop trying to atone for her death. It wasn’t your fault.”

Knox had heard the last sentiment before, though it had never rung true. But he’d never heard the first, and the blunt words twisted in his chest. Had his father been eavesdropping on his conversation with Courtney? “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Nearly killing yourself in the rodeo, chasing down terrorists in Afghanistan, and now running off to joining some security firm … yeah, son, I do. Nothing’s going to bring her back. Especially you dying.” His father put his hand on Knox’s shoulder. “Just keep that in mind as you find something new to sink your teeth into.”

Knox’s throat tightened. This was the most his father had ever said about Callie’s death. Or his part in it. “I will.”

“That ex-wife of yours is right. You do deserve to be happy. So go on and be happy. Find a job that you can’t wait to get up in the morning and get to. Find a woman who makes you feel the same way about coming home.”

Knox swallowed the knot in his throat. “I’ll try.” He didn’t know if it was
possible. Wasn’t sure he did deserve it. There was a part of him that was shut down, and he wasn’t sure it could ever be revived. But he would try, because he owed that to them.

Risk Yarbrough pulled his laptop close and shifted to get comfortable on the hospital bed. The staff here was friendly and proficient, especially considering he was an American in Pakistan. One nurse was particularly friendly. He smiled, then frowned because she’d caught hell for it. Well, technically, it was the fact that she was giving him head—which, hey, is about as friendly as one can get—that got her into boo-coops of trouble.

His torn-up leg was mending fast, and soon he’d be out of there. Where next? He Googled
BASE jumping locales
, looking for the next radical location. Trango Towers had been hell on him here. He’d had an off-heading canopy opening that had rammed him into the face of the rock. Which meant that he’d landed in a stunned and injured state, unable to fully get his balance. Not the best damned way to land.

The doctors and nurses all thought he was crazy, jumping off a stationary object and pulling his parachute so low to the ground. They had seen injuries and fatalities from other jumpers, regaling him with the gory details in their lyrical accents. Like he didn’t already know, though he appreciated their warnings. He certainly couldn’t explain that jacking up his adrenaline had kept him sane when he was a kid. After his mother died and his father worked him to death and beat him to expend his own grief and anger, Risk had numbed himself. Jumping off the barn roof or taking the horse they called Insanity for a ride was the only way he ever
felt
anything. It still was, for the most part.

Except his fingers weren’t typing anything about the jumping locations of buildings, antennas, spans (bridges), and earth (cliffs). They typed
Justiss Alliance Miami
. True to Chase’s word, there wasn’t much about it or him. In the world of transparency, one man and one company had eluded capture. Risk reached into his duffel bag, which he kept within a foot at all times, and pulled out the business card. It was bent and worn from the times when he’d been camping and the card had sort of ended up in his hand.

His gaze fell on the bandages, slated to come off in the next day or so. The thought of heading off to some other location to sneak onto private property or violate a
park rule wasn’t all that exciting at the moment. Injuries and near-death experiences had never deterred him. In fact, just the opposite. Figure out what went wrong and do it right the next time.

Suddenly, risking his life for fun seemed … well, stupid. Nothing like raiding a compound in the desert or rescuing a hostage. Doing something meaningful rather than getting a rush that was over about an hour after his feet touched the ground. This was where he’d been a year out of high school, freezing his ass off in Yosemite Park, waiting for dawn to break so he could pull his first jump of the day. A need for purpose hit him harder than any mountain. He’d signed on to the SEALs that time.

And this time? He flipped the card over, eyeing the names and numbers on the back. Returning to Merica, as Rath called it, was sounding better and better. The thought of seeing the boys, catching up beyond the occasional e-mail or text message, actually made his throat tighten. They were his second family, as important to him as his real brothers. He reached into his bag again and retrieved his cell phone.

He called Saxby, smiling at the sound of his voice when he answered with “Hey, bro. Whazzup?”

Risk flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Taking in a little downtime in Pakistan. I’m heading home in a couple of days, a week at the most. Call the boys and schedule a meet-up somewhere on Julian and Rath’s route. I’m going to fly to Illinois and take my truck down from there.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll get back to you when I’ve got something worked out.”

Risk disconnected, feeling the heaviness in his chest lift at the thought of getting together with the boys. And finding a direction. He’d heard an earful from his most responsible brother, Will, when he’d gone home right after the defuckle.

Will had always lectured Risk on his “recklessness” and had about freaked when Risk announced he was signing on with the SEALs. Being the oldest brother, Will had taken a fatherly role where Risk was concerned. He’d insisted that Risk spend his senior year of high school with him and his wife after their father had broken his nose in a drunken rage.

Risk had been grateful for that year of normalcy even as he’d been unable to fathom living such a boring life. Matt, his younger brother, was a perpetual student,
remaining in the safe, steady academic environment. Also boring.

Risk flipped his finger against the bent corner of the card. He was going to make two more calls to the United States, talk to these references, and find out what it was like to work for Chase Justiss. Then he was going to get the hell home.

The boys met at a roadside diner in Shamrock, Texas, coordinating with Salsa and Rath’s return trip on what was left of Route 66.

Risk propped his leg on the table and hitched up his pant leg. The waitress, who had the unfortunate timing of appearing just then, gasped at the jagged scar, roughly one foot long and an inch wide in places.

Sue, as her name tag indicated, continued to approach despite the horror on her long, pretty face. “Why, bless your heart. Is that a shrapnel wound? My cousin’s got one like that, only it’s smaller.”

“No, ma’am, a mountain got me.” He could show her plenty of war wounds. If he were less than a gentleman, he could offer to show her the one that had gotten him the most ribbing.

She tsked and handed each of the guys a plastic menu. “Damn things. Turn your back on ’em for a second, and they’ll take a bite right out of you.”

Risk grinned. He liked this woman. “Yeah, at least it didn’t have rabies.”

The moment she’d taken their drink orders and retreated, Rath said, “Who-ee, look at Risk, working the lady even faster than Sooch.”

Sax settled back in the blue vinyl booth with his trademark half-grin. “She already took my order, know what I mean?”

“Did not,” Salsa said, his gaze hungrily scanning the menu. “You’ve only been here for five minutes.”

Saxby curled his hand and blew on his fingernails. “That’s right.”

Knox elbowed him. “You’re full of shit. Stop trying to blow smoke up our asses and figure out what you want. I’m so hungry I could eat a cow.” He shook his head, his gaze on the menu. “Still acting like a couple of horny teenagers.”

Knox was the only one of the five who’d been married; Risk remembered his Skype calls, trying to convince his wife to hold off on filing for divorce until he came home on leave. With a ninety-five percent divorce rate among SEALs, it wasn’t a surprise that the marriage had crumbled. Still, it sucked for him. Risk wasn’t going to be the one to ask if they’d managed to keep it together. And he didn’t have to, once he checked Knox’s ring finger. No sign of the wedding band, not even a tan line.

“How’s the road?” Risk asked Salsa and Rath instead.

“The wind in our faces,” Rath said, his smile breaking through his dark beard. “The rumble of the engine, the freedom to do what we want. Sleeping under the stars.”

“Bugs in our teeth,” Julian added. “Exhaust fumes. Numb balls at the end of the day. Prickly scalp from wearing a helmet for hours on end. Fuckin’ awesome.” But he grinned. “Staying away from my family … priceless.”

“They still trying to get you to come back home?” Risk asked.

“About every other day. Calls and texts. First my younger brother, then the older one, then a cousin, then my father. Even my younger sister.” He imitated them in Spanish, then translated. “ ‘Come home. It’s your destiny. Your responsibility.’ They figure, since my military career—and chance to escape—crashed and burned, what else is there but the family business?” He settled his hand over his crotch. “I’ll take the numb balls,
muchas gracias
.”

Of course, Sue chose that moment to bring the tray of drinks. She quickly shifted her focus from Julian’s crude motion to each plastic glass.

“Excuse my ungentlemanly friend here,” Saxby said in his soothing voice, giving her a wink. “Don’t judge me by the company I keep.”

And just like that, she was snared, focused on him instead of those glasses. She gave him a smile. “There’s nothing to judge, sugar. I grew up with three brothers.”

Sometimes Risk and Saxby would make a competition of who-gets-the-girl. Sooch had earned his nickname many a time. Sue took their orders and sauntered back to the kitchen. Sax shot Risk a challenging smile.
Are we on?

Some small part of him responded, as it did to any challenge. The rest of him just wasn’t into it, which seemed rather odd when he thought about it. For some reason, banging some chick and never seeing her again didn’t appeal. Like BASE jumping, it was
fun in the moment but left him hollow later. He waved it off and dumped four sugar packets into his iced tea. “Any of you been thinking about Chase Justiss’s offer?”

Rath kicked back, his arms over his head. “Had enough of being at someone’s beck and call.” His dark brown eyes got even darker. “ ’Sides, I’m heading down to Mexico to find out what happened.”

“And get yourself killed,” Saxby said. “They know what we look like, and they have pictures to keep our mugs fresh in their minds. Since they think we’re assassins, they’ll be keeping an eye out for us.”

Rath had a determined gleam in his eyes, one Risk knew well. No one was going to talk him out of going. “Let us know before you go,” Risk said.

“Why, you gonna pray for me?”

“Maybe we’ll go down, too,” Risk said.

Rath hitched his thumb at Julian. “I already told JuJu here, I’m not dragging any of you into this. This is a solitary mission. My ass on the line.” Rath and Knox were loners at heart, used to being self-sufficient. Even BUD/S hadn’t worked that out of them completely. Nor had the months of training and all the deployments afterward. Yet Risk knew either man would put his life on the line to save his teammate. Their loyalty was bar none.

“Let us know anyway,” Risk ordered. “In case you go MIA.”

“Yeah, sure.” Rath narrowed his eyes at Risk. “You really thinking about joining this security company?”

“It’s more than that,” Risk said. “It’s the kind of thing we’re good at. That we live for. Not rushing into armed compounds or engaging in firefights, but it’s also not waiting around till the government decides to send us in. Or changing their mind once we’re there and ready to rock and roll. But it
is
about righting wrongs. Getting justice for people who can’t. I talked to the two references. One did a stint in the Marines, the other’s a former cop. They see enough action to fuel their need for adrenaline. But they like being able to make a difference without having to deal with bureaucracy. And they think a lot of Chase Justiss. I’m going down to Miami next week to talk to him. Who’s with me?”

Yeah, Risk had fantasies about bringing the team together again under Justiss’s auspices. “We could all chip in on a boat, go fishing, hit the clubs. Do you guys have any
idea how hot the women are supposed to be down there?”