Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Julian

"Medically Discharged," I repeat. "What the fuck does that mean?" I glance down at myself. I'm alive and can function and move. There is no way!

"It means you lost full range of motion in your dominant shoulder. After you took two bullets," Mick, my Colonel, deadpans.

I look down at my right hand, which is now in a sling. "I just need some time," I grunt.

Then I do something stupid. It's not a usual offense. I try to flex my muscles. Searing pain rips through my shoulder.

It will heal; that's what the doctor said, but as Mick has stated, I'm done. Lost full motion. The force of the bullet ricocheted like vomit upchucked at a cheap fair; the force of impact busted up my collarbone, too. That hurts more than the bullets.

After so many years of climbing through the ranks to become a Lieutenant in Delta Force, I was on the verge of making Major. I closed my eyes, wishing it all to be just a bad dream.

"Yeah, and I need a long holiday and an endless bank account…oh wait, you have both boxes checked now." Mick crosses his arms. "This isn't the end, Julian. You still get to have your hand in the pot. Heck, your family designs the toy boxes. You'll get firsthand access."

"I don't want to work for my dad," I grumble.

I sound like a spoiled rich child. The exact image I have been trying to fight.

Mick shrugs, "Tough shit. Daddy's on his way over here as we speak along with your uncle."

"What the hell, Mick! This is a black site hospital."

There's that spoiled child again, rearing his spoiled head.

"Yeah, and your daddy's holding a billion-dollar contract with our government and has friends in such high places that he can get clearance to fly his private jet anytime he wants. Oh, and did you not hear when I said your uncle was with him." He strides forward and leans against my bed.

"Stop saying Daddy," I snarl. My muscles flex on pure instinct, causing me to hiss again. I took the pain meds, but I don't want to take more. I need all my senses alert; that's how I've been trained. If you are hurting, suck it up and move on. As if my dad wasn't bad enough, my uncle serves as the Director of the CIA. They are both going to lay into me for getting shot.

What shocked me was that I wasn't on a mission. I was on base when we were attacked. I just never imagined my career would be ended this way.

Don't get me wrong, I'm relieved I was the only one who got banged up, but it shouldn't have gone down like this in the first place. It's a colossal clusterfuck that has Mick stuck in mountains of paperwork as well as a huge investigation.

Mick tips his head back and laughs. "What's so bad about a nice title, an office with AC and safety?"

"It's not what I want."

Mick sighs, "You know what's messed up? Those of us who have a death wish are never granted it. Those who want to get in and out get the short stick." He slaps my back, "You'll always be my brother, and as your Colonel, I'm telling you to take this opportunity and live. It's what we fight for. Take advantage of it. This pouting nonsense isn't you. You always confront everything head-on. You don't mess around or run from the problem. Confront your new future and beat the fuck out of it; make it your bitch. Work for your dad, or get a contracting job, go live on a beach, and enjoy it." He crosses his tattoo-covered arms, "Meanwhile, I'll continue getting my ass chewed out and will be lucky enough to have enough money saved by the time I retire." He bites.

Mick has two ex-wives, and he's still paying almost his whole paycheck.

As I part my lips, I hear the distinct voice of my younger brother Kent shouting from down the hall. It's like shards of glass cutting my ears. I know he's going to bust my butt for ending up in this situation. After all, I promised him I would return. It was a promise I could never guarantee in my line of work. Whenever I spoke the false vow, Kent would nod, but I saw the anxiety in his hazel eyes. Our mother's eyes.

"I don't give a shit, Nurse Betty; I'm walking through that door," Kent shouts.

"That's it; I'm calling security." Nurse Betty snaps.

Nurse Betty is actually Nurse John. Who, I take it, didn't like the reference.

The curtain to my room is ripped open with such force it pulls off the track. A moment later, the track itself breaks from the ceiling and is now hanging on by just four screws.

Typical Kent, making a mess that my older brother Theo or I have to clean up. Kent gets away with everything, the perks of being the youngest.

My brother looks up at the track, barely hanging onto the ceiling. The curtain is now dangling in his hand like roadkill.

Jesus, It's been six months since I've seen Kent, and it still shocks me that he isn't the small boy I used to tackle every morning.

Where the heck has the time gone?

I'll never admit it, but maybe Mick is right. Maybe being with my brothers again won't be so bad.

Who the hell am I kidding? The Sterling brothers are chaos; that's why our family business is so apropos. What does chaos do best…it breeds, thus, our family business that would make the sexual prowess of a stray cat proud, the multi-billion-dollar weapons company known as Sterling Defense.

"I can see our tax money is being put to the finest of use." Kent jokes. He tosses the curtain to the floor as if we're in a five-star hotel and someone will clean up after him. Then he reaches into his suit, grabs a bottle of hand sanitizer, and cleanses his hands from the filth of cheap tax money.

Mick's gaze shifts from Kent to me. Silently, I mouth to him, See? This is exactly why I need to stay in Delta Force. I was made for the adrenaline and the action, not for hand sanitizer and billions in the bank.

"Hey, Mick," Kent nods. "I'll pay for that." He kicks the curtain.

"Bet your ass you will." Mick shakes his head.

"Hey, you can't go—" Nurse John just enters the room, huffing like he climbed Everest. His badge is in his hands, and the clip is still stuck on his shirt.

I glance at Kent, who winks at me. I know he ripped that badge off to gain access to my room. Priceless.

"I'm already in, Betty." Kent grins, then turns to Mick. "I think you need better security."

Mick touches the gun on his hip in a warning, then shakes his head, "It's fine, John. I'll handle this."

John huffs and then turns. It's clear he hates his job. I'll reflect his hate once I work for my father. A monkey in a suit rather than a soldier in the field where I belong.

"You stupid idiot." Kent rushes to me, grabbing me in a crooked bear hug as he tries to avoid my arm sling. Of course, the gesture hurts like hell. I grind my teeth with such force I likely flatten my molars, but I'd never refuse a hug from my brother.

When did he get so strong?

He's my size now. All muscle, no more baby fat in his cheeks. He smells like clean soap and aftershave. A scent I'm not used to since we can go days without a shower when we are on a mission.

"I missed you." He whispers to me. Fear is evident in his voice.

Guilt hits me. "I'm fine." I raise my good arm so I can hug him.

Finally, he pulls away and slaps my shoulder. Nail on the head, he strikes one of the bullet wounds.

"Watch it." I hiss.

"Watch it." He pokes the other bandage. "Like you did?" He raises his brows. "Why the heck did you let a bullet hit you?"

"I just wanted to see your smug face." I adjust my sling and shift my weight on the bed.

"Hey, He's still my property for a few hours; don't damage him until I sign off." Mick chirps.

Kent jumps on my bed. It's just like we're kids again. "My big brother, the war hero." He grins.

"I'm not a hero," I say as I whack the back of his head.

"Bro, stick with the hero story. It gets the ladies every time. Gosh, the things I have to teach you and Theo." He rolls his big hazel eyes. Mom rolled her eyes just like that when she jested with Dad.

"I want all the juicy details. Did you at least get to kill anyone?"

"Hey," Mick snaps, "The rest is classified."

Kent hunches his back and tilts his head, resting his chin on his hand in deep thought. He looks like a damn statue by Auguste Rodin. "I'm sorry, I don't know the meaning of that term." He winks at me, still playing like he's the second coming of the Thinker statue.

"I mean it," Mick warns.

Kent straightens, then salutes Mick, "Scouts honor."

"I'm not a damn scout, you idiot." Mick hisses, then narrows his eyes at me. "I can see your reluctance, Julian," He adds. "I'll check back later. They don't make bottles of Advil big enough to make Kent's company bearable."

"Advil? I knew you were into soft-core shit. Let me guess, you only know missionary, Mick. No wonder you can't hold onto your women. You gotta try the hardcore stuff."

"I don't have time for this," Mick grumbles, along with a string of curses before he leaves.

A screw falls from the ceiling, and the curtain track wobbles an inch looser. I close my eyes and shake my head.

"Nurse Betty, missionary. Really, Kent?" I mutter.

"It was good, wasn't it?" He chuckles. His body gently molds to my side as he hugs me again. I wish I could wrap both arms around him and tell him I'm sorry for the worry and stress. I wish I could say a lot of things that I can't. Instead, I shut my mouth, hoping time will heal some of the festering wounds.

"When's Dad's plane arriving?" I ask, sinking back into bed and grabbing the food tray with my good arm. The most unappetizing meal sits on top. You'd think a big old juicy steak would be waiting for me. Heck, what would I do for a Whataburger?

I grab the plastic spoon and green jello. Kent snatches the jello from my hand, peels back the lid, squeezes the container so a glob pops into his wide-open mouth, and steals a bite. His face contorts, and then he spits it directly into a cup.

"I'm starving!" I growl as I look at the spit-up jello. He is like a baby sometimes.

"Dually noted. Consider this a favor." He tosses it across the room, missing the waste can. It lands on top of the curtain on the floor. Green jello splats everywhere, giving the room the atmosphere of a nuclear waste site.

"A bullet didn't kill you, but that jello would have. Who the heck serves green jello? At least spike it so we can swallow it." He shouts over his shoulder, "Nurse Betty, can we get some menus here."

I kick him. Hard. "You're such a privileged fuck."

He fixes his suit jacket, "I know." He grins. He looks at his watch. It's a Richard Mille RM 56-02 Sapphire. I bought it for him one Christmas, and yes, I don't practice what I preach. I spoil my baby brother even though I don't want to be viewed as a spoiled rich kid. Kent doesn't mind the title.

I'm unmarried, have no kids, and my stock portfolio would make a Wall Street tycoon proud. I didn't know if I would come home alive, so I spoiled Kent with expensive gifts when I was deployed.

"Dad should land in twenty. My jet was faster."

Reaching out, I ruffle his hair, which is more black than mine. God knows I love my little brother; I just don't relate to him anymore. He's dressed in a custom suit and is always in the tabloids for being the top bachelor and playboy. He has too much fun but somehow balances it with being ruthless at work.

He's the opposite of our older brother, Theo, who rarely laughs. Theo lives in his office. Literally, he has an apartment in the headquarters. He's a workaholic.

I'm somewhere in between; my fun was being in the Army. I wanted guts and glory. Real and heart-stopping. Middle child syndrome. I wanted to rebel and stand out. For over a decade, I got just that.

"It's time, bro. Dad's ready to retire. I'm bored as hell. Theo is no fun. He is buried away in the basement with his team. He changed the access code. I can't even sneak down there and see what he's designing. He's just using my pretty face to market the goods." Kent fakes sadness, "Do you have any idea what it's like just to be used for my face and body?"

I hold my hand up to my ear, "I hear the tiny violins playing, Kent."

He picks at the rest of my food tray, which only has frozen crushed orange juice. With a mumble, he walks to the garbage, tossing everything inside, including the tray.

"Was that awful, too?"

"Duh. Only the best for my brother." He pulls out his phone and starts texting someone. "I'm telling Helen to have fresh squeezed for us."

"Who's Helen?"

"My stewardess. You're flying back with me. I already told Dad, saving you a few days before the lecture comes your way. I'll accept payment in the form of cash deposited into my account. Preferably in Bitcoin, I'm trying to build my cryptocurrency portfolio."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try not to think about what my father will say.

"Come on; it won't be that bad. I don't get what you've been so scared of. Theo doesn't want the CEO title. Dad wants to retire."

"You take CEO then."

"And miss the marketing train? No way. You have no idea how much fun it is. Come on, Jay! The Sterling brothers are going to be a trio again. I need a partner in crime. This is where you belong."

He's pulling out the big guns by calling me Jay. Mom used to call me Jay. It's like cutting my Achilles'; he knows I'll bend now.

"I belong with my men," I mutter.

His eyes narrow, and he looks upset. When I joined the Army Special Forces, Kent didn't speak to me for a month. A month without speaking to me was hard for someone like Kent. He talked incessantly as a child, rivaling any female I have ever met. Theo and I used to fake ear infections so Kent would feel bad and stop talking.

After I was deployed, Kent went on a month-long pouting fest, causing such a tabloid frenzy that our father had to step in. Kent relented and answered when I called. He told me about a threesome he had with two twins he met in Toronto. He also spent thirty million dollars on those two twins. He bought them each a penthouse. To say my father was angry would be an understatement.

"And what about your brothers? When will you belong to us again? Is it going to be when they send you home in a coffin?"

"That can't happen now." I quip.

Kent doesn't laugh.

"It never would have happened," I reassure him.

"Are we such bad company?" He questions. The pain in his voice feels like shards of glass slowly cutting me.

That's when I confront my reality head-on. Like I always do. I'll accept my fate as CEO so my brothers can remain happy. Theo will continue to design weapons, and Kent can sell them. I might be miserable, but my brothers will be happy. That's all I care about.

"No," I hug him awkwardly with one arm since my other is in a sling. "I just needed to try to make it on my own."

"You did."

I nod.I wanted to do more.

"I have conditions." I change my tone and try to sound happy.

"Name them. Blonde, brunette, exotic... have you ever tried blue hair? Jesus, it's fun, you feel like your fucking a ‘User' from the movie Tron."

"Kent," I warn as I push him from my hold.

"Ok, boring old sexy nurse coming your way." Kent goofily smirks. "I can call Nurse Betty back." He elbows me.

I roll my eyes. "I want a corner office."

"Done. CEO gets his own floor."

"I want to be on the test team, hands-on." If I have to wear a suit and sit in a board room every day, I'll lose my mind.

He raises his brow, his eyes tracking my broken shoulder. "Ok... don't look at me that way. Done."

"I don't want you to bring your harem of women around me. I don't need a matchmaker."

"I don't matchmake." He runs a hand through his styled hair. "I provide nightly entertainment that seeks your company."

"They seek my wallet, and I'm not interested." After my last girlfriend cheated on me while I was deployed, I've lost my taste for relationships.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His eyes glance at my cock, "Has middle age hit you early? There's a little blue pill for that."

I grab my pillow and chuck it at his head. "It works just fine, and thirty-two isn't middle-aged. The last time we went out, one chick kept dry-humping me like a Rottweiler with rabies. She fucking bit my neck like a vampire. The more I tried to get her off my thigh, the tighter she held on. I don't know where the hell you find these women."

He bends over and laughs, "I remember. She was batshit crazy. Theo paid me to do that."

"You little shit."

"Where is he?" The deep voice of my father penetrates the thin drywall. Even the curtain track rattles.

My neck tenses as I look at my folded uniform on the chair. Never to be worn again.Now I'll be a monkey in a suit. Somehow, I think getting shot will be less painful than disappointing my father because there is no way I can be the son he wants me to be.