Chapter Thirteen
J ustice’s sources told him the second Fisher arrived back in Southern California and it was easy to follow Fisher and Rogue when they left the airport.
He thought of all the things he wanted to say, but he kept revising them over and over, trying to find the right thing to say.
Apologizing was a priority.
Although he’d been given an order, he would own up to whatever mistake Fisher thought he’d made.
Of course, he’d remind the assassin that taking orders was something ingrained in his head from the military so when he’d gotten orders, he followed them.
He rubbed a tired hand down his face. His sleep had been shit for weeks.
Had Fisher been afraid?
Justice knew what that felt like. He’d grown up in fear when he was little, so he knew about the need to run. It warred with the need to be held. It was a feeling where you didn’t want anyone to interfere combined with wanting them close.
It put a person in a fucking limbo.
Kind of like he was right now.
Did he and Fisher even have a chance now?
Easing off the gas, he got over several cars behind Rogue’s jeep. He didn’t want to spook the guy. Knowing Rogue, the assassin would disappear and take Fisher with him.
All he wanted at the moment was to know how Fisher was and if he was safe. Not that assassins could ever be safe.
Rogue drove until they rode through a shabby part of Glendale and ended up in an apartment building that had seen better days.
The sidewalks were cracked and cratered. Overgrown trees peppered the block and weeds filled the parkways. The parking lot was sunken in with the apartment building positioned at the rear.
Justice parked down the block, locked his truck, and made his way between parked cars until he slid between a beat-up old pickup truck and an RV that looked to be from the seventies.
It was there that he stood indecisive and it was also there that he was caught.
“What are you doing here?”
Fisher’s voice spun him around. How the fuck had the guy gotten so close without him even hearing?
He’d been distracted with his thoughts, that was how.
But fuck…
It was so damned good to see the sexy dark-haired beauty.
Fisher looked thinner. His eyes were blank and held a coldness he hadn’t seen in a long time.
It broke his heart.
“I just wanted to say—”
“What?”
“Sorry.”
Confusion and then anger flashed in Fisher eyes and the man charged forward. “What are you fucking sorry for?”
Justice grabbed Fisher and tried to hold him. He carded his fingers into the long black strands at the nape of the man’s neck and cradled the back of his head. Wrapping an arm around Fisher’s waist, he brought the slighter man’s body flush to his.
Fisher shoved him.
Justice hung on.
Fisher punched him in the side, sending a pain shooting through his ribs and Justice released his grip.
When Fisher shoved away, the man threw another punch, but this time at his face. The blow cracked against Justice’s cheek, pain splintered, but he welcomed it.
Fisher could kill him with his bare hands, Justice knew that without a doubt.
He also knew Fisher hadn’t and that was because they had history.
Albeit a short one, but they’d been intimate and they’d had a budding friendship before all this had gone down. It was the only thing that was keeping Fisher from killing him.
The murderous rage in the man’s gaze wasn’t hard to miss.
“What did you do, Justice? Huh?” Fisher shoved him in the chest, yelling the odd question.
“I…”
“You fucker! What did you do!” Fisher launched forward, but Rogue was there lifting the slender man off of his feet.
Fisher turned lethal, but Rogue held on even when Fisher bloodied the man’s nose by throwing back his head.
Fisher kicked and screamed with a low fury, but Rogue wasn’t letting go.
A sting burned in Justice’s eyes and he lifted his shocked eyes from Fisher to Rogue.
“Get the hell out of here. You’ve done enough,” Rogue growled.
The sounds ripping from Fisher’s throat turned hoarse and even though there were no discernible words, Justice couldn’t mistake the rage.
A few people opened their windows in the apartment building, stepping out onto junk-crowded balconies.
“What’s going on down there?” someone shouted.
Time was up.
He needed to retreat.
“Take care of him.” The words sounded guttural, but he couldn’t help that.
Fisher stopped struggling and stared at him with anger-filled eyes, all that dark hair wild.
Walking backward, Justice held the man’s eyes.
He wanted to explain, but Fisher wasn’t going to hear him right now.
Retreat and reassess.
Give Fisher time.
This battle may have been lost, but he planned on winning the war.
So, he walked away when everything inside of him wanted to stay.
Fisher was shaking…he’d never lost it like that before.
“Was it Justice who did it?” Whatever the fuck it had been.
Rogue stayed quiet, but after a long moment, the man finally spoke.
“Yeah.”
Fucking shit!
Rogue’s answer gave him an idea of just how much Justice had probably hurt him. His chest felt heavy, his insides twisted, and he wanted to disappear.
Rogue squeezed him firmly.
It took him several long minutes before Fisher felt like he could stay upright.
“I’m good. Let me go,” he croaked.
After a moment of hesitation, Rogue released him and Fisher landed lightly on his feet. He was pretty close to the side of an old parked RV and when he grew lightheaded, he pressed his palms to the cool metal and sucked in several slow, deep breaths.
Something niggled in his brain. Something just out of reach. It was enough to start up a throbbing headache. When Rogue placed a hand on his arm, Fisher dropped his palms and straightened away.
He couldn’t be touched right now.
He didn’t like to be touched anyway, but his skin felt like it was on fire.
“Come on, you need food and sleep,” Rogue murmured.
“I need a fucking drink.”
Maybe a night of drinking would calm his fucking nerves because right then, he felt raw.
And fuck if he knew why.
Angry didn’t begin to describe the fury he felt.
“Tell me what he did.” He dropped into steps next to Rogue.
“Not right now.” Rogue drew out his keys and opened the apartment door.
“Why the hell not!” Fisher barked.
Rogue calmly walked into the kitchen, pulled out a couple of cold beers, and passed him one.
“Later.”
Fisher cracked open the beer and guzzled over half of it.
Yeah okay…later sounded good.
“Gimme another one.” He held out his hand while he finished the can.
Rogue reached into the fridge.