Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Justin woke to a lighter room, then faked being asleep for a few minutes to avoid anyone who might want to talk.

Clearly big brothers could still see through that shit, even after all those years, because Ethan called him on it.

"I know you're awake, Justin, and we need to talk," Ethan said from beside him.

"No." Justin deliberately tensed and released muscles, and his leg was less painful, a lesser throbbing than the raging fire from before. "I need a car. Can you get me a car?"

"What? No way. I won't let you leave without telling me why you have to go, and where you've been, and why you think there are warrants out for your arrest."

Justin opened his eyes, blinked, then focused on Ethan. His big brother looked so intense, like he was the one in charge here and Justin would do as he said.

That was not happening; Justin was a grown man now and could make his own decisions.

"There's no way you'll be letting me do anything, Ethan. I will not put you or my family in danger."

"From whom, Justin? Exactly what side of the law are you on?" Ethan scrubbed his face with his hands. "Fuck's sake, at least tell me you're one of the good guys?"

Justin wanted to laugh, but it would have hurt too much. Hadn't Sam asked him exactly the same question? Did saving lives make him the good guy? Did killing make him the villain? Fuck if he knew anymore, but nothing was black and white, so he changed the subject. "Where's Sam?"

I want Sam here; he'll stop you asking questions. He'll hold me, and I can smell him and have something nice to hold onto for a little while.

"He left us to talk."

"Fucker," Justin cursed, then realized he'd used a teasing tone.

Seemed Ethan didn't feel that lighter tone, though.

"You had to have a reason to stay away. There must be something…." Ethan trailed away. "Adam said he saw you before, when you knocked out Cole in the woods, a trained SEAL. I assume that was you, anyway. You spoke to Adam; you called him ‘A.'"

The sound of the name had unexpected grief twisting inside Justin. "I thought Adam was dead." He wriggled to sit up, waving away Ethan's help when he made to move. "They said there was a man the Unit had been protecting for years. I didn't know they meant Adam."

"You were sent to Crooked Tree to kill Adam?" Ethan asked, ominously still.

"No. Jesus. No. It was my fault he was in Chicago," Justin admitted. "But I didn't realize he was alive. You have to know that." He could hear his own words, knew that he was rambling, that the narrative was hardly cohesive.

"Tell me the whole story."

"Intel crossed our desk, the Unit I mean. Alleged domestic terrorism passed to me, and suddenly there was Adam. I didn't recognize him at first. He wasn't a kid anymore, but there he was, alive. This explanation won't make any sense to you, but the documents said he was a threat, something about his memories returning, and I knew Adam was in danger and I decided to get him away."

"From where?"

"A ranch in Wyoming. But it all went to shit when one of my team realized I'd seen the report before him. Saunders—you know him, he came to the ranch."

"The DOJ guy? The one who said he liaised with WITSEC for Adam?"

"DOJ, huh? He used that one?"

"Said Adam was in witness protection," Ethan insisted.

"He was, but I didn't know that. They told me he was dead."

"So you said. Who is it that you work for, Justin? Why would they lie to you?"

Justin sighed noisily. "I can't tell you that."

Ethan stared at him, his expression unchanging; he lowered his voice. "Tell me."

Justin hesitated. He'd been working secretly for so long that he'd even begun to believe his own lie that he worked alone.

"Ethan, please." Please don't ask any more questions.

"Justin, tell me, or I'll call Saunders myself and get him here to explain."

Justin laughed, dry and bitter, and shook his head. "He's dead."

Ethan stared at him. "Dead how?"

"I killed him," Justin said bluntly. What did Ethan expect? Some story about having them arrested to face the music? They'd threatened to kill Adam. Hell, they'd nearly succeeded in killing Adam at the ranch in Wyoming, and then again in Chicago, calling him a loose end, more focused on Adam than on the fact Justin knew he'd been lied to.

"What was Saunders to you? Do you work for the Department of Justice? Are you wanted by them? What?" Ethan looked like he was going to cry, or shout, or punch Justin. His expression twisted with emotion. Justin couldn't get a read on his brother, but all he could see was that there wasn't love or affection in any of those reactions.

Inside his chest, Justin swore he felt his heart shatter. He had to be honest, if only with Ethan.

"Four of us," Justin said softly. "You met Saunders; he was responsible for putting Adam into WITSEC. Then there was me, Webb, and Rob, we were the blunt end of a covert team. Since 9/11 there has been… shit, I don't know how to explain this." Justin scrubbed at his eyes. "The government set up autonomous teams, okay, to work undercover and surgically remove domestic terrorism threats from the inside."

For a few seconds, Ethan stared at him. Did nothing faze his brother? "Black ops," Ethan finally said. "Are you a soldier? A cop? Special Forces? What? How did that work? What happened when you left here?"

Justin listened to the questions and chose his first answer carefully. "I'm not a cop, or anything formal, just someone with no name who can work from inside domestic terrorist cells, grass-roots terrorism, cut the cancer out at the heart."

Ethan didn't call him on the fact he hadn't answered what happened back in 2004. "Undercover," Ethan said.

Justin nodded. "I came off my last op, working with a guy from another team. He was sent to Montana to take out someone. I saw the intel, realized it was Adam, followed them, and then killed him and the other guy with him."

"The two dead men," Ethan summarized. "You were protecting Adam."

"I had to. I didn't know he was alive before then, I swear. But the intel said he was regaining memories, that recalling what had happened to him put him on a kill list. So I did what I needed to do. I messaged him, told him to run, that he was in danger, and to meet me in Chicago."

"Was that was you on the tape, in Chicago? The one who stopped that man beating Adam to death?"

Justin nodded. "Webb. He was another member of the same team was sent to finish him. I pulled him off, called for help."

"Did you kill the guy who hurt Adam in Chicago?" Ethan leaned forward with fire in his eyes.

What should Justin say? Justin declined to answer verbally and just nodded. He expected Ethan to have some kind of reaction—disgust, maybe? Congratulations? Instead he sat back in the chair.

"You got to him before me," he said with feeling. "So, now you're done," he summarized.

"I wish it was that easy. I know too much, about the kinds of corners the authorities cut just to get the job done. Doesn't matter we saved lives. We became killers."

"Four of you. Two you killed, so that leaves one? Who is that?"

"You don't need to know."

Ethan didn't back down. "Is Adam safe?"

Justin realized one thing at that moment: Adam was more important to Ethan than Justin himself was.

As it should be.

Still, that dug right into his heart and made it hurt so much more. He stopped, because what he had to say next was so bad, but he couldn't find any words to make it better.

Ethan was insistent. "Justin? Keep talking."

"You know what they said?" Justin gave a bitter laugh, but he only laughed because he didn't want the grief to take over. He stopped again.

Ethan will hate me.

"Who said what? Ethan reached out and grasped Justin's hand, and for a second Justin held on tight, then shoved him away before Ethan could do it to him.

"When I woke up in the hospital, I was in a coma, burns so bad it wasn't certain I would live, and they told me Adam was dead. I grieved, and blamed myself. I still blame myself. It's right that I take that on myself." He paused as he considered what to say next. "I wanted to die, and then I wanted to live just to hurt the people who'd killed Adam. That need for revenge pulled me through over two years of pain and healing."

"And then what? Why didn't you come home?"

Justin sighed. "At first, when you weren't in the hospital there, when no family was there for me, I couldn't understand it. Then I was told I was in WITSEC, that I was a primary witness. I mourned that so fucking hard." He looked right at Ethan, wanted Ethan to know how much it had killed him not to come home.

"What changed from you being in WITSEC and then becoming… what you became?"

"A killer. You can say it out loud."

"Jesus, Justin," Ethan cursed, and this time tears filled his eyes.

Justin had to harden his heart if he was going to get this story out in full. "Saunders was with me the whole time. You have to understand he became my focus, my family, and just after my eighteenth birthday, when I was being released from the hospital, he gave me two options—a safe house and new identity in South Carolina on one hand, a list with five names on it in the other. I had a choice. I could give up and hide, or I could work with him undercover and at the same time find ways to avenge Adam's death. Get my own revenge. It was my way of atoning."

"You blame yourself? How was what happened to you and Adam your fault?" Ethan asked in a tone of complete disbelief.

Justin shook his head. "Fuck you, Ethan. You have to know by now that I was the one who rode off that day. Adam followed me . If he'd stayed with you, he would have been okay, but no, I had some childish freak-out over my brother and my best friend being a couple, and Adam wanted to explain."

Ethan rested a hand on Justin's leg. "You can't think like that."

"I can."

They stared at each other for a long time, Justin stubbornly refusing any support from Ethan.

"The five on your list," Ethan said, cautiously, "the ones who hurt you and Adam? What happened to them?"

"Four of them are dealt with."

"You killed them as well." Now Ethan's voice was dead, and his eyes looked empty of everything, including any affection or love for his brother.

Justin said nothing.

After Ethan and Justin had another staring battle of sorts, Ethan finally asked, "And that's the end of it?"

"Not exactly. Rob and I are left of our team."

"And that means?"

"It means I'm under no illusions that the man who we reported to, Clarke, has every intention of surgically removing me after what I did to Saunders and Webb. After I went rogue. I'm okay with however that plays out." Justin wasn't answering the question as such; he wasn't alive inside, so there was no point in running if Rob came for him. He just hoped it would be after he'd managed to cross that last name off his list.

Ethan sat back with a huff of anger. Then his expression softened and he looked stricken. "Can you ever come home?"

That was a leading question. "No." Ethan wouldn't drop his gaze. "I still have work to do," Justin finally said.

Ethan placed a finger under Justin's chin and tipped his head to look up at Ethan. "What do you mean?"

It seemed like everyone had made themselves scarce so the brothers had privacy, but God, Justin wished there was someone else there to break the intensity in Ethan.

He wished Sam was there, with his blue eyes so filled with compassion. He needed that barrier back, needed Sam's touch. He didn't even question why, just accepted that Sam settled him.

Justin raised a hand and gripped Ethan's wrist, pulling away the fingers that tipped his chin. "What do I mean? It's simple. Along the way, inside all the other shit I did, I made those men pay for killing Adam," he said. "All but one."

Jamie Crane is still on my list. The last one to deal with before I can disappear.

Pain banded Justin's skull and he closed his eyes.

"Justin?" Ethan looked like he was going to cry.

Justin couldn't watch his brother in tears again. He wasn't that far away from Justin, and his hands were in fists again on his knee. Justin decided to change the subject.

"Tell me about Adam. I saw the way you held him, and I guess he loves you back. That's good news. You were always soul mates," Justin rambled, even though the words hurt him.

And not because of some stupid petty jealousy that he'd originally felt at sixteen. It was just that Adam had come home, alive. He pushed it all aside, and concentrated on the here and now.

Adam would be loaded down with agony and pain if he got his memories back, and Justin wished like hell he could make sure Adam never remembered a thing.

"The amnesia is a bastard," Ethan said, like it was an aside. At least he'd stopped crying, now sitting there focused and with probably a million questions. "Total. He's having to rebuild it all. But it's okay, because now you're here, you can fill in the blanks. Hell, I want you to fill in the blanks, little brother."

" No ." Justin emphasized the word. If Adam wasn't scarred by the terrors Justin had seen, then Justin wasn't wrecking his life. Part of him, the small part that was the younger, innocent man, was jealous that Adam had a home, had Ethan.

"He has so many missing memories."

"I wish that was me," Justin murmured under his breath. The idea of memory loss, of forgetting all he had seen, all that had been done to him, sounded like a good thing.

"No, you don't. Most of the time he's fine, but sometimes I see him just staring, and I know he's recalled something that hurts him or makes him sad. I wouldn't wish it on my closest enemy."

"I'm sorry," Justin said uselessly.

"But now you're here, and we can sort this out."

Justin looked at him steadily. "It's not that easy."

"Yes, it is."

"I killed two of the Unit. Webb went for me, shot me in the thigh, and I manipulated it so Saunders shot him in the face. Then I shot Saunders before he could shoot me. Right here." He tapped his forehead right above his eyes. "I wanted answers. They just wanted me dead."

"Self-defense."

Justin shrugged. "I'm leaving as soon as I can."

"What do you mean?" Ethan sounded desperate. "You only just got here."

"Too many people know: Gabe, Sam, Adam, Dad, you. And if Rob figures out I'm here…."

"This Rob, why does he have to do what he's told and kill you? Can't he be reasoned with? Paid off? The ranch has some money now. We could all pay in?"

Justin shook his head. "We never knew who was pulling the strings ultimately—the only name we have is Clarke, but it's lost in politics—what we did has to die with us to keep the country safe, to keep the president with plausible deniability. We knew that, signing up. I'm lucky to have made it this far."

Ethan stood and began pacing from bed to door and back again. With each turn he opened his mouth to ask something, but the words never fully formed, and instead all he was doing was cursing as he walked. Ethan stopped at the bed again and sat down. He looked tight, holding himself rigid. "Then tell me what the fuck happens next. Who do I need to call?"

"No one, and I guess the welcome-back hugs are finished, then?" Justin's chest tightened. He didn't want to answer questions, and certainly not any from his utterly focused big brother or anyone else Ethan felt should be involved. He pushed aside blankets and stumbled to stand, leaning heavily on the bed, forcing away dizziness, and hoping he stayed standing.

"Let me call Ryan. This is something the sheriff could help with. He'll know what to do."

"No."

"Jesus, Justin, think about this."

"I said no." Justin moved away from the wall and was finally standing without support.

"Stop me!" Ethan suddenly shouted, so close that Justin could see the temper in his eyes.

"I could."

Ethan shoved him then, nothing too major, but enough to push Justin off-center, make him grab for the back of the chair Ethan had been sitting on, miss it, and end up in a pathetic heap on the floor.

Ethan was there in a second. "Shit, I'm sorry. Fuck, Justin…"

Justin batted Ethan's hands away and crab-walked back to the wall, leaning there and resting his hands in his lap.

They both breathed heavily, staring at each other.

Ethan was the first to blink. "Tell me everything," he said as he stayed there in an awkward crouch, no more than two feet away from Justin.

"I wouldn't know where to start."

"The beginning."

Shame and grief poured into Justin. "That's the very worst place to start."

Ethan moved to sit next to him against the wall, bumping shoulders and staying there as if he needed the reassurance of Justin being right next to him. "I love you, Justin. I missed you every goddamn day. And Gabe, he was the one left behind when you and Adam vanished. Jesus ."

"And Dad?"

Ethan hung his head and sighed noisily. "Dad found his safe place, where he could handle the grief of losing you."

Justin wanted to ask what Ethan meant, but he feared opening a huge can of worms because Ethan's tone was flat and didn't appear to invite comment.

"I had to go." That was all Justin could say. All he would say.

"Why? Adam said he saw you burning. He thought you were dead."

Justin banged his head against the wall and immediately regretted the action. His head should stay completely still and not have contact with walls in any way, shape, or form.

"There's no point in telling you anything else, Ethan, even if I could."

"Where were you? Twelve years . When were you planning on coming home?"

"Jesus, Ethan, I never intended coming home." He had to share that truth with his brother, but he saw the way Ethan hunched in on himself. Justin was hurting him, but how else could he get the man to back the hell away from him?

They were inches apart then. Ethan's eyes were stormy and sparking with emotion when he spoke. "Please don't leave."

Justin stared at him for the longest time, but an explanation wasn't on the tip of his tongue, wasn't even in his head. He'd stayed alive so long by keeping quiet, and he wasn't about to let Ethan back into his life just because of the way Ethan looked at him with tears in his eyes. "I can't do this. I'll kill Sam for getting Gabe involved, for bringing you all here."

"This isn't Sam's fault."

"He should have left me to die up there," Justin said. Then he levered himself up, using the wall, and Ethan's shoulder, and limped to the bed.

"Justin, I need to know what happened. I need to fill in the blanks."

"And I need to go," Justin muttered, more to himself than to Ethan. His head pounded as though he had a head rush. Dizzy nausea swamped him. Fucking fever had laid him out..

"Please, Justin, we just got you back."

"You didn't, though. You don't have me back. I can't stay."

"Then why did you come home? Why did Sam find you here?"

"Because I'm stupid. Because some primitive part of me thought I was dying and I wanted it to be on Crooked Tree land." The pain that banded Justin's head ramped up; he felt dizzy again, over-hot, and he needed to close his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Justin ignored the question. "What I did, what I had to do—" He scraped his fingers through his hair, digging his nails into his scalp, aware his brain was heading for a shutdown. "—it has to be worth it, okay."

"Justin, you're not making any sense." Confusion warred with compassion in Ethan's voice. "The cops, the sheriff, me, we can protect you. We can make this right, take it to the papers. Hell, I don't know what, but you can't leave again. I love you, we all love you, and we want you back."

The barrage of words, and the confusion made things worse, but the compassion tipped Justin over the edge. He gripped his brother's shirt. "I have to leave, because I won't let them win, or hurt any of you."

"Hey, little brother, calm down," Ethan looked right into Justin's eyes. "You're here. With me."

But the words didn't help, they couldn't stop the anger or the fear or the guilt that churned inside him. His head hurt to the point that all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep. That would be okay, right? Ethan was there; he'd look after him, watch his back. And there was Sam; the man seemed to be some kind of aide, someone who wanted to look after Justin.

Justin hadn't had protection or care in a very long time.

He leaned his forehead against Ethan's, feeling dizzy and exhausted, and his thoughts were incoherent to his own ears. Only one thing was clear, the only thing pushing him forward at that point, and he whispered it to Ethan.

"I only have one more person to kill, and then I'm done."