41. May 20th

MAY 20TH

Waters

The bar was a dive.They'd been coming here for years, mostly because it wasn't somewhere guys like them would hang out. There was a pool room that never seemed to get used except by them, so it became their place to hang out when things were slow at the office. Mostly older, blue-collar workers hung out here drinking beer, watching sports, and paying no attention to anyone around them. It was perfect for hiding in plain sight. No women. No fights. No bands or gimmick nights. No food. Just blissful anonymity.

What the hell am I doing here?

The team had dragged him out at lunch. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be at the office. He had work to do.

No. That was a lie. He wanted to be with Kubrick. But that wasn't going to happen.

And whose fault is that, dipshit?

As soon as someone came in the door, the sun sliced through the dimness of the main room. The only other place there seemed to be light was here in the side room with the one lone pool table and the three bar-height round tables, each with a couple of stools that had seen better days. The room was rimmed by high-set windows above a row of mirrored beer signs. The late afternoon sun was shining in through the grime and dust.

He chalked his cue stick and went to the upper left corner of the table, bent over, ready to sink the striped seven ball into the lower left pocket, then run the rest of the table and clean Nemo out of his paycheck. Just before he took his shot, his eyes registered movement in the doorway, so he looked straight up to find Kubrick standing in the doorway.

If this were one of her movies, there would have been an electric fritz and a loud crackling noise. Waters felt like all of the oxygen left the room as his eyes met hers. He didn't blink. He didn't move. All sound was gone.

He registered the missing baseball cap, the hair that was half out of the ponytail, and more flyaway than usual. Eyes wide as they surveyed the room around him, her hands clenching and unclenching, then crossing over her stomach, gripping her elbows as if she were cold. Or in pain. She shifted from foot to foot, her expression skittish, like a deer poised to flee from a hunter. When she almost immediately let go of herself, he noticed what looked like red blotches on her crisp white blouse, and it appeared that one sleeve was ripped, possibly a button or two missing.

What the fuck? Kubrick?

Like an internal monologue moment in a film, everything was in slow motion. Waters took the shot. Sunk it. And without ever checking the ball went in, never removing his eyes from hers, he stood up behind his cue, his left hand cupping the top of the stick, his right fist cupping the left fist, his weight evenly distributed on both feet, falsely relaxed as his eyes stayed on her.

Oh, sweetheart, what the hell happened to you?

He felt a pang in his gut but resisted the urge to rub it in commiseration.

Just.

Suddenly, it was like the movie reel sped up to put them back in real time. Waters swore he could feel the pressure change as time began to move at its normal pace again.

Wordlessly and without glancing over, he handed his cue stick to Nemo, then walked over to her. He stayed on his side of the threshold as if there were a glass wall separating them.

He couldn't help but be truly concerned. This was not his woman. Something was terribly wrong.

She's lost weight since I saw her last. There are dark shadows under her eyes, and she looks pale as a ghost. Most definitely freaked the fuck out about something. And it's bad if she somehow managed to hunt me down.

He realized that there was only one way that could have happened.

Demon.

Time would tell if he was going to thank or kill the motherfucker.

The pink tip of her tongue darted out to wet the pink flesh of her lips, and her teeth worried the bottom one. He desperately wanted to cover her mouth with his, plunge his hands into her hair, and pull her in tight.

"Waters." Her voice came out raspy. "I'm… um, I'm sorry to bother you," she tried again.

He dragged his eyes back up to her gaze. "What's wrong, Kubrick?" He tried to project nonchalance, but he wasn't sure if he actually was.

Her eyes flicked from guy to guy in the pool room behind him, resting on one in particular for a moment longer, then back to his hazel gaze that had never strayed.

He moved his head to look at the left side of her face. His anger ratcheted up as he grabbed her chin and turned that side of her face to see it in better light. She winced at his grip, so he relaxed just enough to allow her face to slip back to frightened rather than frightened and in pain. "Who did this to you, babe?"

"I have a… a situation."

It was not lost on him that she didn't answer the question. Up close, those red blotches were clearly blood, and she had more bruises on her arms and hands. He removed his shirtjack and coaxed her arms into it. He had a feeling that blood needed to be out of sight. She also had a bump to the head above the bruise forming on the left side of her face. He stared into her eyes for a few moments, his expression never changing and weighing her words, her body tightness, and her vocal inflections. Then he nodded to her, gesturing for her to lead the way. She turned on her heel and headed to the exit.

He turned to look at Demon, and the two men shared a look of anger. "Someone hit her. Did she tell you what's wrong?"

Demon shook his head to the negative. "Just said she had trouble and didn't know who else to call."

Waters gave an extra beat in his glance to Demon, who gave Waters a chin lift, then stepped to the back of the pool room and went for his phone. Waters felt them all tensing, ready to take an order. Even they felt her aura was off.

"Be at the ready," he told them.

Waters followed Kubrick, watching her stiffened posture, and the clenching and unclenching of her fists continued. Once outside, Waters pulled out his aviators from the inner left pocket and put them on against the setting sun. She was standing motionless, as if clueless about whether to go left or right.

Yeah, something is seriously wrong.

He came up along her right side, a hand to her mid-back. "Kubrick?"

She flinched slightly at his use of her nickname and his touch. "I took an Uber." He heard a sense of confusion and lostness in her voice. Now, he was getting nervous.

Gently, he took her left elbow in hand and directed her to his truck. Without thought, he scanned the streets, looking for anything out of place, including any people who shouldn't be where they were. He clicked open the truck door and handed her up into the passenger seat, then closed her in and jogged around the front of the truck, hopping up into the driver's seat.

He started the truck. "Where to?"

"My house." It was nearly a whisper.

"Seat belt," he intoned as he slid his phone into the dashboard clip, hit a small blue button next to the GPS, and pulled out into traffic.

She made no move to put on her seat belt, so he reached across her, grabbed the belt, and buckled her in. It brought back a silly memory of them before. Her struggling with the belt. Him buckling her in. Her over-the-top flirtatious bimbo impression. Now, she was a shell of that woman. Not quite an automaton, but definitely not a self-assured individual right now.

The drive was silent. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a read on her. She was looking out the front window, a blank stare and a ramrod spine, those straight white teeth were now worrying her right thumbnail.

Yeah, not good.

He pulled up in front of her house, turned off the truck, put his left forearm on the steering wheel, and angled his body to watch the house itself, waiting for her to speak.

When her voice came, it was just above a whisper. "I watched the final cut last night. Had breakfast on the lot. Met with Stapleton on the final audits. That was a total shitstorm of apocalyptic proportions." She was laughing, but it was more incredulous with a touch of hysteria thrown in. "When I got home from that meeting and got to the top step, something felt off." She stopped.

He shifted his head to look at her instead of the house. She was still looking straight ahead. Not out the window at the house. Not at him. Just staring straight out the windshield.

"Kubrick?" he encouraged softly.

She put a hand up to her nose and pinched the bridge. "I know I should have called the police, but… I couldn't. I've fucked up big time, and I'm scared." She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap.

Waters wanted to put a hand on top of her twisting fingers. Instead, he just said, "Stay here." He got out of the truck, but before closing her inside, he hesitated a moment and then offered, "There's a Glock under your seat. Remember what I taught you."

"Oh, I remember," she murmured sarcastically.

He frowned.

"Did you lock everything back up?"

"No. I don't know. I just… after…" There was a slight hitch in her breath with the unfinished thought.

Okay, so expect the unexpected.

With that, he shut the truck door, locked the truck from his fob, and began moving up the sidewalk. Attempting to look casual, he pocketed his aviators and jogged up the sidewalk and five steps, kept his keys out as if they were keys to the doors, and pushed open the screened-in porch door.

He was about to go for his lock picks when he saw the gap between the door and the frame. A slight nudge with his elbow allowed the inner door to swing open. Waters reached behind to pull his second Glock out of the holster beneath the Henley he wore.

What was that saying Kubrick used? Holy hell, horseshoes, and hand grenades!

He was not prepared for what met his eyes, but someone watching him wouldn't have known it by the way he stepped through the door and began to clear the main floor.

Living room.

Clear.

Closet.

Clear.

Upstairs.

Quick scan up the stairs. Pass momentarily.

Kitchen.

Clear.

Basement.

Wait for that. Too much to clear on my own and way too many questions that need answering.

Waters shot his left arm free of his sleeve and spoke into his watch face. "E.T. Call home." The face lit up with a neon green outline.

The watch beeped twice, and then God's bark came over the speaker. "Just talked to Demon."

"Kubrick's house. Need a cleaning crew. Big Bird got canceled. Heat is out, but I"m not sure how long it"s been."

"Already on their way. ETA six minutes. Do we still have eyes?"

"I'm not sure if Midas removed them when he knew she was coming home."

"Ask him when he gets there. He'll have to remote access if Cyclopes is up but dormant."

Waters stepped through to the porch, closing the door behind him by pulling the lip of the door up top as far as he could. He forced himself to walk slowly and deliberately back to the truck, like he didn't have a care in the world. In reality, his eyes were canvassing everything around him.

Based on what he just saw, Kubrick was clearly in a whole heap of trouble that looked really, really fucking bad. He snorted.

I knew she was in trouble, and I followed God's orders anyway, leaving her on her own and vulnerable once she came back home. Fuck me.

She was still staring straight ahead, but he could tell she wasn't seeing anything. If she was retreating into herself, that meant it was even worse than he thought it was. She flinched as he unlocked the passenger door. Grabbing her knees, he swung her ninety degrees in the seat to face him. Her eyes were wide, and pupils dilated in fear and panic. To her credit, she wasn't shrieking or crying, but he wouldn't have blamed her if she had been. Seeing she was not in a good headspace, he gently pushed her knees apart, and he settled in as close as he could to her, his palms gently bracketing her face as he gazed into her eyes. He tilted her face to him and ducked down to meet her eyes. "Kubrick, look at me." Her eyes looked up into his. "We'll get through this. The guys are on their way."

"You're not going to call the police?"

"Hell no. There's a dead body in your living room."

She gave one quick nod of her head. Finally, she broke down. In less than the time it took to inhale her lilac scent, her knees involuntarily squeezed tight at his hips, she burrowed into his chest, face first, and wrapped her arms around his middle, the hands clawing at his Henley. Inwardly, he groaned in pain and pleasure.

His arms went around her shoulders, and he gripped her firmly in his arms, creating a shield with as much of himself as he could. Then he closed his eyes and tried to exhale with control. Soothingly, he stroked her hair. "Babe? What did you do with the gun?"

He felt her breath catch, and the exhale didn't come.

"Exhale," he softly ordered. "I'm going to help you, but you have to tell me what you did with it."

"I panicked." Her muffled reply came from his shirt front.

"Where?"

"Silas' Pond. About a mile back on the dirt road."

She began sobbing quietly. Briefly, he thought about untangling from her since the guys would be there any second. But he didn't. Her fear and tears were breaking his heart. His strong woman was hurting. She was frightened. He couldn't leave her without his arms protecting her, comforting her, reassuring her, no matter who was showing up. More than that, he didn't want to. He had wanted the two of them wrapped around each other again just like this since they'd parted ways six weeks ago. No way was he strong enough, or willing, to let go again. While the timing and situation sucked, he had gotten the second chance he'd been hoping for.

This time, I'm Never. Ever. Letting. Go.

Two minutes later,Demon's doorless Jeep pulled up behind his truck. Demon hopped out with his kit and an emergency ice pack already crushed and primed, which he placed against the side of her face. The medic did a quick check of her eyes with his penlight, totally ignoring that she was still physically wrapped around his boss. He said nothing to either of them, but his glance was guarded. Waters knew that Demon was still unhappy with him, whether Kubrick was currently in his arms or not.

TB's Hummer pulled up in front of Waters' truck. Steel slipped out the passenger side and went to find a spot for Overwatch. TB exited his vehicle and came up curbside of the Ford, grabbing the open doorframe. "Midas and Nemo had to go back to the office to grab Midas' laptop. Should be here in a couple of minutes." He tipped his head in Kubrick's direction. "She okay?"

Demon snorted and walked back to his kit, which he had dropped on the hood of the pickup when he arrived.

These men. Such loyalty for my woman. What the hell was the matter with me?

Waters shook his head lightly. "I cleared the first floor, but not well. Yellow entry."

A Bronco cruised up the street toward them and parked on the opposite side of the F-150. When he exited the truck, Midas had a laptop under his arm, which he quickly set on top of Waters' truck and began typing on. Nemo stood at the back end of the truck, watching the street for pedestrians, but the road was quiet.

He never took Cyclopes down for a nap. Owe him more tequila for that.

Waters focused on Kubrick. "We need to go in and look around. Do you want me to have Demon stay with you here at the truck?"

"I…"

His thumb caressed her pale, unbruised cheek. "You don't have to go in."

He watched the mask slide down her face and body as she schooled her expression and straightened her spine. Her legs eased from around his hips, and he was both proud of her resolve and sorry she was retreating. "I can go inside. It would be better if I did, right? You need your team members with you rather than babysitting my paranoid ass out here."

Waters caught the smirk on TB's face before he turned it away as if he were scanning the area for hidden assailants. "Having you close, where I know you're safe, and Demon there helping to clear the house is preferable, yes. But I would understand if you can't go inside."

Indecision and a touch of fear sparked in her eyes again as Kubrick bit her bottom lip and ducked her head. But a moment later, when she raised her face to Waters', her voice was solid, like it had always been on the set. "Okay."

Waters' eyes lit up, and he smiled for the first time that day. Probably in six weeks. "There's my girl. Knew she was in there somewhere." He smoothed the hair back. "Okay. Nemo, I've got her six, you lead."

She slid out of the truck, and reluctantly, he let go of her only for her hand to reach back for his as they walked.

Well, fuck.