11. Evan

11

EVAN

“ H oly shit,” Gavin growls, offering me a hand. “You all right?’

“Great. So good.”

Shaking my head to clear the fuzz, I cough, slouching in the doorway for another second before letting him help me up straight. Pathetic. I barely got a hit in.

“Are you?”

“Absolutely not.” He leaves me once I’m standing without wavering, glaring out the door after our assailant.

The slender, tall whip of a woman who just handed me my ass and nearly killed me like I was barely a threat. I definitely need to get back to training.

“So, that's a shooter, huh?”

“Yep. No two ways about it,” Gavin mutters.

“Why do I get the impression you know exactly who that is?”

Gavin grimaces, avoiding my gaze. I can visibly see him clamming up, shutting off. It’s not hard to recognize an old wound, freshly opened.

I have a few myself.

And now I have another, a bloody slice along my shoulder that burns like hell. Better than getting shot through, I suppose.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here, just in case they come back. Need to get you patched up.” Gavin storms out, slinging the safe up onto his shoulder like a sack of grain instead of a two-hundred-pound iron box.

Everything aches as I follow him, adrenaline fading, leaving me feeling frayed and drowsy. It’s been a long time since I've been in a real fight. My muscles are tight, cramping.

Doesn’t help that I have been sitting at a desk for the past two weeks, barely working out or training.

“Do you want to take the back way home?”

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.”

The entire way back to Gavin's house, we're both charged, watching the mirrors for any sign of pursuit. He takes a few roundabouts, backtracking and looping to make sure.

We can’t afford any more surprises.

Not that I’m not expecting one once he finally tells me what the hell is going on.

“I’m not typically one to pry, but…”

“So don’t.”

“That’s hardly fair. You all but interrogated me about Hellena.”

“Different.”

“How so? This involves me and could put all of us at risk, especially Hell.”

Gavin gives me a bloodshot side-eye, sending a shiver down my spine.

I give him a few minutes to cool down before prodding. “Come on, Gav.”

“It's… someone I thought was dead. Someone who was supposed to be dead.” His voice is always a rumble, but this time it’s nearly a snarl.

“That's fine if you want to leave it at that. Just let me know if there's any details we need to know in case she decides to drop in to shoot us in our sleep, alright?”

“I just need a minute to process, okay?” Gavin’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning purple, the leather creaking like it might snap.

So I lay off, for the time being.

Pulling back into the cave garage, we stash the Jeep and head down to the main house, parking in the back to avoid any prying eyes. As soon as we’re inside, he slams his fist into the workbench, rattling the entire building. “Fuck! I need a fucking drink.”

“I could accommodate that,” I mutter, heading back to my car and fishing the bottle out from under the back seat.

It’s a rare scotch I forgot to take inside, a gift from one of my clients.

“You like scotch?”

“I’ll drink diesel if it will make me feel better right now.”

“Mmm. Delicious. This tastes slightly better.” I nod toward the house, heading into the kitchen and glancing around for glassware.

“Here.” Gavin clacks down a couple of tumblers. “You mind if we stay here tonight?”

“It's probably smarter that we stay put, patch up our wounds.” He gives me a flat look. “ My wounds.”

“If you’re okay with it. That way, we can make sure everything's calm and quiet before we drag any more trouble back to the safehouse.”

“Fine by me.”

“I'll shut this place back down and lock everything up in the morning,” he rattles off, more to himself than me, slumping down in his chair, holding his glass for me to fill.

“Probably best if we all stick together from here on out.”

“Fuck yes. And about time. We need to get to Hellena and lock our shit down. Make a plan. Tomorrow.”

“I agree.” Even as the squirming feeling in my stomach threatens to return the contents of my glass.

“Shit.” Gavin slams down his phone, shaking his head. “The signal up there is absolute garbage.”

“I’ve got the new phones in the car. Should fix that problem.”

“Good. Top me off.”

“I’m sure she’s fine with Tell.”

“Yeah, well I’m not.”

We sit in silence for a while, staring at the table.

“I understand you are… struggling with this. Is there anything I can do?” I must sound like an utter fool.

Gavin raises an eyebrow.

“Not your strong suit, showing emotions, huh, pretty boy?”

“I show anger just fine,” I snap back, getting irritated at his dismissal and the way he calls me that sometimes.

“Ha! I knew you weren’t as cool as you always let on.”

“Blame the scotch. Or hunger. Do you have anything to eat?”

“Should be something in the freezer.”

I feel my lip pulling up in disgust.

“Oh, I'm sorry. That’s not gourmet enough for you?”

“It’s fine.”

I won’t give him the gratification of seeing me squirm.

“You always this way?” He smirks, digging through the freezer. Something about Gavin disarms my defenses, lowers my walls.

Sighing, I lean over the table, gripping my glass in both hands.

“Truth be told, I’ve eaten plenty of horrible food in my youth. I lived on the streets for a while. Homeless shelters. Because of that, I made it a point to eat the most amazing food in the world as soon as I got the chance. I guess you could say I’ve gotten used to a spoiled lifestyle.”

“Nothing wrong with treating yourself well. I could stand to take a page out of that book.”

Gavin’s rough, simple, in many ways I am not.

However, he’s just like me in that he is used to being self-sufficient. Same with Tell and Hellena.

It’s an unspoken thread I can see tethered through all of us. Maybe it’s why we can all coexist.

Share.

Not to mention the fact that I respect the man more than anyone I've ever met. He’s steadfast. Genuine.

It's the closest thing to a brother that I might ever want to find.

A couple of beers and a few shots of scotch later have us sprawled out, leaning back in our chairs. The pizza was better than I thought it would be.

I blame the booze.

Gavin’s humming to himself, hands clasped behind his head.

“That woman kicked my ass. BAD.”

“I haven’t had a fight that hard in a while.” He nods.

I think back, my head foggy from the drinks. “I beat some of Marco’s guys’ asses the night of the Ball to give Hellena a chance to run.”

“Good on you.”

“I got shot,” I remark, noticing the blood dripping down my arm.

“Gotta be quicker next time!” Gavin slams his palms down on the table, an intense look in his eyes.

“Is that so? I guess you need to teach me how to dodge bullets, then!”

He really could teach me a thing or two. Every time I've attempted to take a swing at Gavin, he’s landed me on my back.

“Where'd you learned to fight like you do?” he asks, circling to look at my arm after grabbing a first aid kit from a drawer.

“All over. Some as a kid, others overseas. Spent some time in Korea. Japan.”

“Huh,” he huffs, tearing my sleeve.

“Hey! Ah, never mind. It’s ruined, anyway. Where’d you learn?” It’s a bit rhetorical. I know he’s ex-military. He looks pensive as he slides a chair over, setting a box of first aid equipment down beside us.

“Marines. Special Forces. Ten years as a merc.”

The first stitch stings like hell.

“Damn. You served with Hellena’s dad?” Wincing, I take another sip of whiskey.

“Yeah. Met him in Spec Ops.”

“Sounds like a badass.”

“You have no idea. They didn’t call him Demon Damon Michaels for nothing. He taught me most of what I know, then we started our own crew once we left the service.”

“And the rest of your crew?” I probe tentatively, hoping he doesn't clam back up.

“Long story. Most of them are gone. All of them, I thought.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh. It was a long time ago.”

“I know that feeling. I’ve lived a lot in my short years.” I regret it the minute I say it. I sound like a jackass.

“Shut the fuck up. You're only nine years younger than me.”

We both laugh, sipping our drinks, my arm and our worries forgotten for a moment.

“Since we're stuck here, and I'm way too amped up to go to sleep, why don’t we play a little game?”

“A game. I didn't take you for a gambler.” He kicks at my chair, trying to off balance me as I lean back.

“Oh, I don't gamble. I usually make sure I can win before I start.”

“What's the fun in that? Where’s the risk?”

“I take risks. They’re just calculated.”

“You’re pretentious as fuck, you know that?”

I nod, unable to hide my drunken grin.

“So, what's this game?”

“It can be anything. But for every round I win, you have to answer a real, honest question.

Even if I want to know something you don't want to talk about.”

“Alright, the same goes for you, though.”

“Of course.”

Slamming his glass down, he sets his elbow down on the table, opening his hand.

“Seriously? Arm wrestling?”

“I can't think of anything else to start with. You chicken shit?”

His smile is more than contagious, his brawny energy dragging me in. We clap hands together, flexing our arms like a couple of action movie stars.

I clasp his hand tighter, gripping for purchase and anchoring myself on the side of the table.

“So one, two, three, go?”

“Yeah, that.”

A fleeting thought scampers through my head. I’m going to regret this.

“One. Two. Three. GO!”

I'd like to say I hold out for longer than I do.

Ten seconds of fighting for my life, slowly failing, and he slams the back of my hand into the table, standing and raising his arms in a cheer. “Ha!”

“Fuck!” I shake my hand off, wincing. “Should have expected that…”

At least there’s no broken bones.

“You put up a good fight. You’re strong as hell!”

“Mmhmm, sure. Ask your question.”

“You scouted Hellena to work for you.”

“Yes, but that's not exactly a question.”

“It’s set up. Did you know going into it that you were going to play her? That you were going to use her like a pawn and betray her?”

“That’s two questions.” For a second, my hackles go up.

But he’s not being aggressive or a dick. He’s frank, relaxed.

“Just answer the fucking question, Evan.”

“I only planned to put her to work. Figured she would flunk out at first. I would have called it even and let her off the hook after a few jobs. The order to prepare her for other things came later…”

“After you fell in love with her.” He raises an eyebrow, and I stare right back at him. I could avoid this question. He’s already gotten two.

“Yes, after I fell in love with her.”

“Good! Next contest. Your call.” He paces the room, swinging his massive arms with an excited energy.

“I'm certainly not going to arm wrestle you again. What about…” I’m drunk enough to have a hard time being creative, so I go with something I know I’m good at. “Push ups!”

“Alright, soldier, drop and give me… as many as you can!” He laughs, shouldering me on his way into the living room. “I'll match you one for one.”

We drop down to our hands, staring at each other for a second before I start pumping out one after another.

We pass fifty before either of us shows any signs of slowing. At one hundred, we’re both grunting a bit. At one-fifty, we’re breathing heavy.

That’s when the asshole starts trying to make me laugh.

“Keep up, tiny man!” he yells in a terrible Arnold voice.

“Don’t let your gut drag you down, old man!” I snap back.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that, I’m just so damn distracted by your pretty fucking face!”

We’re both panting, having lost count after two hundred.

“You love my face!”

He swats at me, almost losing his balance.

“Cut that out!”

“It’s a competition. Anything goes!”

Dodging, I swat back, dropping into a one-arm pushup.

“Oh! You’ve got to be shitting me!” He roars, trying to match me arm for arm.

“I lost count!”

“Who cares!”

“Just say I won!”

“Oh, yeah, you won,” he gasps, flopping onto his stomach. “I blame the scotch. It's the fucking scotch.”

I drop to the ground, my arms and chest on fire.

“I hate to kill the mood, but you know what I’m going to ask. Who was the shooter? Or who do you suspect it is?”

“She was someone special to me. One of our crew. Her name was… is Alaya.”

“That’s it?’

“That's all you’re getting for now.”

“Alright. I won't pry.”

Gavin pops back up, heading for the fridge. “Shot?” He raises his eyebrows as he pours the frosted bottle of tequila.

Oh. This is going to get bad.

Several shots later, the game is forgotten and the conversation shifts.

“You got any ink?” I slur, pointing at the smudge I can see peeking out from under his sleeve.

“Yup. You?”

“You know I do.” I try to sound arrogant, but my wits are shot.

“Yeah, Hellena told me you’ve got some line work all over your body.”

Without a second thought, I yank my shirt over my head, standing to turn.

“Hmm. Reminds me of something from my time in Thailand…”

“That's where I got it done, actually.”

“Thailand? Wouldn’t have taken you for the spiritual type.”

“Well, there's a lot about me that people don't know. Mostly because I don't let them know.”

Gavin whips his shirt off, pointing out his various tats, their meanings.

“You ever put that spiritual training to work on your demons?” He narrows his eyes.

“Some. Mostly, I use it to stay in control.”

“Yeah, I learned a few of those tricks myself after my first tour. But it only goes so far. Eventually, you gotta process that shit, Evan. You gotta purge the guilt and the ghosts, and…” He sighs, tilting his head.

“Says the guy hiding out in the woods,” I quip.

“I’m not hiding! I came out here to find inner peace!” he shouts, throwing up his hands.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!” He leans in, pointing one finger at me, taunting me.

I snatch his wrist, dashing forward to twist it behind him, aiming to pin him to the table.

He’s out of it in a heartbeat, laughing as he ties my own arms in knots and flips me onto my back, knocking the wind out of me.

“Dammit. How do you do that?” I groan.

“Come outside and I'll show you.”

“Right now?”

“You got anything better to do? Unless you’re ready for bed.” He looks me up and down, biting his lip.

“Oh, yeah? Are you hitting on me right now?”

He shrugs, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. “I just like messing with you.”

“Same.”

We both grin like idiots, like we’re both thinking the same thing. We’re in love with the same woman.

“You really just want her to be happy, don't you?” He lunges in, testing my defenses.

“Yes,” I snap, flitting out of his reach. It’s like he can read my mind, where I’m going to move next. What I’m grappling with in my head, too. “Am I that transparent?”

“Some of the time. You're pretty cagey, but I recognize the signs when I see ’em.”

“I fought it for a long time, but…”

“Ha! You and me both. How’d that work out?’

“She won.”

“She always does.”

Just like that, we’re exchanging playful blows, going over grips and maneuvering around locks. It’s like something just released in my chest.

“You're not as big as I am, so you need to be careful about getting in close. Don’t let me grab you or it’s over.”

“Got it.” Easier said than done.

“When the time comes, you can't be afraid to make your move, though. You're way faster than I am. You just need timing and the right moves.”

Gavin loops an arm through mine, nearly snags me in a choke hold. Wedging my hand between us, I thrust him back, twisting away, putting me behind him, my arm hooking around his throat.

“There! See.” He taps my forearm, conceding. “The same goes for Hellena. You need to be willing to make the move, get in close when it’s time. Don’t back down. Apologize. Tell her how you feel.”

“So it’s life lessons now, too?”

“It’s what you need to fucking hear!”

“And if I don’t want to hear it?” I snag him again, locking my arm and tugging back this time, engaging the choke hold.

“I don't give a damn what you don’t want to hear!” he growls, gripping my arm and lurching forward. I realize my mistake instantly.

Right before he sends me flipping over his head and slamming down into the grass.

“Oof!” Stars explode in my head.

Leaning down over me, Gavin locks eyes with me. “It's not for your benefit. It's for hers .”

He's right.

And the fact that he cares more about her feelings than mine, or his own, puts me to shame. Sitting up, I catch my breath, looking up as he joins me, passing me another glass of scotch from inside.

We sit like that in the moonlight for a while, quiet.

I break the silence. “Do you ever think about…”

“About…? Are you hitting on me now?”

“No, no. Maybe a little.” I shoulder check him lightly. “I mean… do you ever think about us being with Hellena…?” I let the sentence fade off, tilting my head suggestively.

“Oh. Oh! Well, yeah. I mean, I'm not against it.”

We both process the idea for a few moments, chuckling as we down the last of the whiskey.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” I mutter softly, smiling.

“Likewise.”

“I mean, if she's down for it.”

“Of course!”

A shuffle off in the darkness has us both shooting to our feet right before the soft beep tings off in the house.

“Perimeter alarm!” Gavin rasps in a hoarse whisper.

He’s back in a flash, passing me a gun.

“How do you do that?” I hiss.

“What?”

“It’s like you have guns hidden everywhere.”

“I do have guns hidden everywhere.” He growls noncommittally, taking off into the woods.

We look insane, two drunken, sweaty, shirtless, bruised and scraped madmen running off into the woods wielding guns.

All I can do is laugh, chasing him into the dark.

It’s a mad dash, the moon guiding us over fallen trunks, over dips in the rotting leaves. Gavin is like a fucking wolf, bounding through the undergrowth like a shadow, his footfalls eerily soft for someone his size.

It’s all I can do to keep up.

Every sound we hear takes us in another direction. We’re chasing ghosts.

Another perimeter beep dings far ahead.

“Watch my six!” he growls back at me, his words barely intelligible as he barrels forward.

I snicker. “You’ve got a nice six!”

“Quit staring at my ass!”

Another perimeter beep goes off to the left, and we’re veering to intercept. Scuffles off in the brush echo all around us, creatures running for cover.

Gavin fires off two shots toward the sound, shouting, “HA! GOTCHA!”

Another sound to my right. I unload my clip.

He’s whooping and sprinting on, firing off shots in every direction now.

When we reach the fence, both of us slick and gasping, we about fall over laughing, our hands on our knees. Gavin kicks the dead raccoon over onto its back.

“We caught the bastard!”

“I think it was already dead…” I wheeze, and we erupt again, doubling over.

The walk back to the house takes way longer.

“I need a shower. You do too.” Gavin waves his hand in front of his nose.

“Buy me dinner first,” I joke, throwing a half-assed punch.

“I did! Got you drunk and everything. Least you could do is put out.”

“I got dibs on first shower!”

“Won’t matter! I don’t think there’s any hot water.”

“We could both use a cold shower…” I tease as we head inside.

When I finally collapse on the couch, I feel at ease. And hammered.

Tomorrow, I get to see Hellena.

I am finally ready.