Chapter Thirty-Two

“Mark.”

Fighter didn’t move after saying the man’s name. His friend looked like shit and he wanted to help, but unless Mark turned himself in, he couldn’t do anything.

“I need to talk to you.” Mark opened the door to the building and gestured inside.

Fighter shook his head. “Let’s talk out here.”

Mark wiped at his mouth. “It’s too cold. I promise I won’t do anything. I just need to tell you something I found out about Brick.”

“And then you’ll turn yourself in?”

“Yes.”

Fighter hesitated another moment before he entered the building. He wasn’t really worried at this point, he could handle Mark. What was with Bishop and now Mark trying to turn him against Brick? He waited for Mark to enter and then twisted the deadbolt on the front door. Making his way into his office, he hung his coat on the rack.

Silently, Mark followed him into the office and Fighter hoped to God the man really meant to turn himself in. If not? All Fighter had to do at this point was stall Mark until Brick got here and then call the cops.

“You changed the locks.”

“Yes.” Fighter turned up the small heater beneath his desk and sat in his office chair as Mark took a seat directly in front of his desk.

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

“You knew it was Gunner. I told you that.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Mark shifted in his seat. “Can I come back to work?”

What the hell? Was the guy kidding? Fighter couldn’t get over the fact that he’d actually asked.

“No. It’s too soon…” He didn’t need to rethink his decision. “And you haven’t paid for your crime. Gunner may not want to press charges, but his boss, Jaxon West, already did. They have a warrant out for you.”

Mark closed his eyes and shoved his hands into his puffy brown jacket, shifting constantly around in his chair.

“You need to turn yourself in before they arrest you. It will look better,” Fighter urged. “You’re better than this.”

“Am I?” Mark squinted at him, sniffed, and wiped at his nose.

Fighter’s suspicion flared. “Are you using again?”

“Just a little to knock the edge off.”

He was stupefied. Mark had quit drugs years ago. “How long?”

“What?” Mark blinked at him.

“How long have you been using again?”

Mark shrugged and Fighter figured that meant a while.

“Before you shot Gunner?”

“Fucker deserved it!” Mark said, bouncing in his chair and tapping one foot. The man was too tense and the situation was escalating, so Fighter decided to calm it down a bit.

“So, tell me what you found out about Brick,” Fighter said softly. He felt for Mark, the man had had too many struggles in his life. Growing up with two alcoholic parents, so much so that Mark’s house didn’t always have enough food to eat.

“So, I was talking to Withers and he says that Brick bought this building.”

Fighter stared at Mark, his mind racing. Brick bought this building? Why? On the heels of that thought, he knew exactly why Brick had done it. The man had ridden in on his white horse and saved the day, again. It might have stemmed from his need to control everything, but Fighter would give Brick the benefit of the doubt. Because that was what you did for the person you loved.

Love?

Did he really love Brick?

Maybe not a deep love yet, but he really really liked him, was attracted to him, and they had fun together. He could talk to Brick so easily. So maybe it was love. He smiled and then squinted at Mark. Why had Mark been in touch with his lawyer, Carl Withers?

“Did you hear me? Brick is your landlord.” Mark scowled at him.

“Yes, I heard you. Is Brick not supposed to buy property?” Fighter asked.

“You knew?” Mark gaped at him and Fighter stayed silent.

The clock on the wall ticked. Brick was running a few minutes late. Had Mark done something to Brick?

Fighter pulled his phone out.

“Who’re you calling?” Mark snapped and Fighter glanced up.

Mark held a gun pointed at him and Fighter lowered his phone.

“You never loved me, did you?” Mark said, his mouth drooping.

“Mark…I like you as a friend,” Fighter said calmly, careful to not make any sudden moves.

“I love you.” Mark stood and Fighter rolled back from his desk and stood.

If he could get the guy out in the training room, he could disarm him.

“Sit down.”

The dark end of what looked to be a nine-millimeter pointed at him and Fighter felt real fear. Would Mark really kill him? Was the plan to kill him and then himself? Would Brick find them before Emma woke up from the sounds of gunfire?

Fighter sank back into his chair.

Brick cursed and pounded the steering wheel.

Who would have thought there would be so many accidents tonight blocking several streets. Cars sat bumper to bumper in the icy weather. He glanced at his watch, it was just after three in the morning, where the hell was everyone going this late at night?

Fighter hadn’t picked up his phone call and it was stressing him out.

Was Fighter asleep?

The man had been a little bit tipsy when he’d dropped him off. He smiled remembering the pretty pout. He wanted to kiss that pout and those lips.

He ordered his jeep’s system to call Fighter’s number, but there was still no answer. A text pinged his phone and he smiled with relief only to frown.

Fighter: M

“M?” It took two seconds for his brain to connect the dots. “Fucking Mark!” he shouted, and ordered the system to call Cobalt headquarters.

“Hey Brick,” Felix said, sounding wide awake and alert.

“Felix, I think Mark is at Fighter’s place. Fighter isn’t picking up and he sent me a text with only the letter M. I’m stuck in traffic, fucking weather caused a shit ton of accidents.”

“I’m on my way,” Felix said and hung up.

The bodyguard had sounded almost happy and Brick hoped the decision to send Felix after Mark wouldn’t wrap back around and bite him in the ass. Good thing was that Suwan and Cobalt were only blocks apart.

By the grace of the road crew, the way suddenly opened up and Brick floored his jeep. He wasn’t stopping even if he saw cop lights in his rearview. Although, it didn’t look like many cops were on this road right now.

As luck would have it, he reached Suwan just after Felix. Marshal and Doc along with several of the recruits gathered around Felix at the tail end of an oversized Suburban.

Brick’s approach gained Felix’s attention.

“Hey Brick, how are we doing this? We going to knock?” Felix gestured to the building that Brick had reinforced to all hell.

“I have a key.”

“Oh, thank God,” Doc said and slammed a clip into his weapon. “Are we using lethal rounds?”

“No. There are kids in there,” Brick growled, and Doc tossed his gun into the back of the vehicle and took out a weapon that shot beanbag rounds.

“Wear your vests,” Marshal told the recruits, and the big man tightened one Velcro strap after another.

Brick approached the front door. He stayed careful to steer clear of the windows even though he’d replaced the glass and they all sported new blinds, he wasn’t risking being seen.

The hardest part was going to be getting inside without detection and he hoped Fighter could deflect if Mark noticed him coming inside. This wasn’t the normal procedure. They usually tried to negotiate with a hostage situation, but for all he knew, Fighter was in there alone with just the kids and the M could have been a mistake.

Or, Fighter could be lying wounded behind that door or worse. There was no way in hell he was staying outside and negotiating. He inserted the key and the new lock turned without a sound. It had been worth the money he’d spent on an ultramodern deadbolt versus the number lock panel he’d wanted installed.

The new door slid soundlessly open and from here, Brick could see that Fighter was in his office behind his desk.

Mark must be at the end of the office that wasn’t visible from the entrance. Leaving the door open just enough to slip through, he took Felix, Marshal, and Doc with him while the recruits guarded the outside.

Brick closed the door and crept along the wall until he could see Fighter and hear Mark.

“I can’t let you go,” Mark said, his voice clogged like he had a cold or was crying.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Fighter rubbed at his face and then looked around the room.

When Fighter’s eyes met Brick’s for that brief second, he gestured to the training room and then melted back, making his way to the hallway entrance. From there, he could see Mark, but not Fighter.

Everything was dark in the place except for the light in the kitchen and the small lamp in the kids’ room glowed from beneath the closed door. Felix, Marshal, and Doc fanned out, slinking into the shadows of the training area, armed with non-lethal rounds.

“Hey, let’s just relax and I’ll make some coffee,” Fighter said.

“Okay.”

“Wait here, I’ll get it.”

“No chance,” Mark snapped and stood from his seat.

Brick stepped back and entered Fighter’s room and eased the door partially closed.

Fighter walked out of the office and toward the hallway.

“Want decaf? It’s late.”

“Since when do I drink decaf?” Mark said, following with a gun pointed at Fighter’s back.

“It was just a suggestion,” Fighter soothed.

“You don’t even know me,” Mark spat and stopped just short of the doorway.

Damn it.Brick assessed the situation. Just a few steps more and he could have come up from behind Mark and knocked him out.

Felix’s voice came through the earpiece tucked in Brick’s ear.

“Brick, I’m taking the shot.”

Felix fired one round at Mark. From that point, it sounded like both Doc and Marshal both opened fire. Bean bags peppered Mark from all directions. The fucker yelled and stumbled, ducking his head and surging forward. Brick lunged out of the room to knock his gun arm up and away.

Mark fought, but Brick was so pissed he couldn’t see straight. He spun the fucker around and rammed his head into the wall. A crack filled the hallway. Lifting Mark up, Brick body slammed him to the ground, the gun finally tumbling away.

Felix was there and grabbed the gun. Brick bent down and lifted Mark by his collar. Drawing back his arm, he sent his fist into the man’s mouth and then nose repeatedly. Too bad he’d forgotten his brass knuckles. He wanted to do damage.

“Brick.” Fighter clutched his arm. bringing Brick’s focused to him.

He let Mark drop to the ground where he rolled around and spit up blood. Brick grabbed Fighter to pull him close and ran his hands down his back and arms, then pushed him slightly away to cup his face and look for any injuries. There were none.

Mark was a very lucky man.

The asshole would at least get to keep his life.