Chapter One #2
Instead of arguing, Wyler headed out. He was going to go camp in the woods and have himself a little adventure.
He had some beers he’d tucked away in the trees for when he needed a drink, so that his babysitters couldn’t be all over his ass.
As the door closed, Callen sighed.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” he asked. “To go check on the fire-breathing half-Native?”
Timothy slapped him on the arm.
“Knock that shit off. Don’t refer to him as half-Native. He’s your brother, and had the cards been dealt differently, it could be you in his situation.”
Callen said nothing.
Why?
The last thing he wanted was his brother having to live through what he’d experienced.
So, he’d stop being a dick about it.
“I’ll check on him after work,” Callen said. “By check, I mean peek into the window, make sure he’s breathing, and hightail it back here. I’m sleeping over, Granddad. Congrats, you have a new roommate.”
That was probably for the best, and Timothy knew it. There was no point risking the outcome.
“That’s fine, Son. You know you’re always welcome here.”
“And I’m bringing a babe home. So when the room is a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking.”
He stared at him.
Why?
He knew Callen, and he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was joking.
“You’re ridiculous.”
That made Callen laugh.
How could it not?
The look on Timothy’s face was priceless.
Oh, and he’d never do that because of one thing. The mad meddler would pop up from behind the headboard to scare any woman away who wasn’t Native.
Been there.
Done that.
“I try,” he admitted.
Oh, Timothy was aware.
As Callen stood, he was worried about Ethan and couldn’t help it.
“And he’ll be okay, right?” he asked. “I’m really worried about him. Ethan…he’s not one to give up. He looks like he has, Dad. He’s easily angered, but when it comes to not giving up, he’s the strongest person I know.”
Timothy nodded.
“He will be. His lover has to decide what to do now. If he shows up, Ethan will go home, and everything will be okay. If he doesn’t…”
Callen lifted a brow.
“What then?” he asked, not enjoying how that sounded, at all.
Timothy glanced up, and he was honest.
“Then, we have no choice but to bury him beside his mother when he passes.”
Oh, Jesus.
At his words, Callen was horrified.
His grandfather’s premonition had caught him off guard. The last thing he ever thought he’d hear was that, and the mere idea that he lost his brother…
It didn’t make him feel great. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
“We can’t let that happen.”
Well, no shit, Sherlock.
“Thus, why I’m meddling, Callen James. I want you to know that both of you are making me work for it. Now, just go to work, and later tonight, go see how he is. Just peek in on him. Don’t piss him off!”
Callen laughed.
Yeah, he didn’t have to tell him that. It was why he was going to be sleeping here, and not at his perfectly fine cabin. There was a grizzly bear camped out on his couch.
“But I do it so well,” he said, thoroughly shaken by what Timothy had said.
How could he not be?
Ethan dying…
That wasn’t good.
His brother had always been the strong one, and one day, he knew that Timothy would die, and so would Wyler. He needed Ethan to live so he wouldn’t be alone on the planet.
That.
Would.
Suck.
Giving his grandfather a kiss on the top of the head, Callen strapped his gun onto his hip and prepared to go off to deal with the jackassery that happened on the reservation.
There was no doubt that it would be a day full of drunks, fights, and likely drugs too.
Wooo.
Freaking.
Hoo.
His life was a barrel of fun, but hearing what Timothy had just said, he knew that it had the propensity to get much worse, and that was problematic.
For all of them.
“Stay out of trouble, Timothy,” he stated.
“Oh, and just as a heads-up, your son, the drunken one, is back on the sauce. I found beer bottles in his recycling can. That means he has them hiding somewhere, and that’s going to blow up in our faces.
Be prepared for some stupidity from the fruit of your loins. ”
Timothy rubbed his hands over his face in sheer exhaustion.
Yeah, not now.
This was the worst possible moment to have to deal with Wyler and his self-deprecating behavior.
He was tired and couldn’t deal with it.
“I’ll deal with that later. Just keep out of trouble yourself. Kaya Cheek will be rooting around to try and find some available Blackhawk sperm once she hears that your brother has returned to the reservation. She’ll go at either of you, so keep your dick in your goddamn pants and away from her!”
He laughed.
Oh, well, that was the plan.
It generally was, especially since he’d caught his father getting his sex on with her.
PASS.
There was no way he’d hate himself that much.
Right?
It was safe to say that he wasn’t getting on that train to STD-ville. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he’d hopped into bed with her more than a few times, but it was only when he was hating himself. That wasn’t the mood he was feeling now.
Today, he was just worried.
PERIOD.
“Gotcha, Shaman. Fix my brother. If I have to bury him, I won’t be able to stay here on the rez. I’ll pack my shit up because this place will haunt me, and I’ll have to leave.”
Oh, Timothy was well aware.
There was no doubt that so much hinged on Ethan getting his bearings before the Raven arrived.
As Callen left, Timothy got up from the table and knew what he needed to do.
He was going back into the smoke to make sure that this was no shitshow in the making.
Ethan had to live, Callen had to stay there, and Wyler…
Well, he just needed to grow the fuck up.
And Timothy?
He needed a vacation from the Blackhawk looney bin.
This family was too much, and there was no doubt would be the death of him—possibly sooner rather than later.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
Flight To DC
In Time For The
Bitch-slap-pocalypse
Oh, now, Gene Cantrell was three days beyond being pissed off and in one hell of a mood.
BIG-TIME.
The last thing that Gene wanted to do was hop a flight to DC to kick the shit out of the Director of the FBI, but here he was about to land.
So, when in DC, lose your freaking mind.
When he got to the office, both he and Gabriel Rothschild, his sneaky, slimy boss, were going to have words.
And hands.
As in he was throwing them in the form of a fist. Someone had gone too far, and now, it was time to set the record straight. If Gabe thought that he’d sit idly by as Ethan was bullied because of his sexuality, or his relationship, he was wrong.
Gene was generally laid back unless a few things were poked.
His man.
His relationship.
His sexuality.
If anyone dared to tread on those three things, it brought out the not-so-cuddly bear in him. It brought out the one that would maul and kill at the blink of an eye.
And he was there.
When he’d arrived in Philly last night, imagine his horror when he’d gotten off of the flight with Greyson, turned his phone back on, and found that horrifying text from Ethan. It caught him off guard and rattled his cage viciously.
Imagine being happy as a clam on a flight back home because you’d lived and then finding that you were losing half of your heart and soul.
It sucked.
But apparently, there was a mess to clean up in DC thanks to Gabe.
His man was on the run.
Without.
HIM.
Clearly, there had been some miscommunication with Ethan when he’d said, repeatedly to his lover, that they were a couple, team, unit, and family. Because if he believed any of those four things, he would have run TOWARD him, and not away from him.
So now, he needed to rectify that, too.
While he understood why Ethan had been upset, Gene would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a hell of a lot to know that he’d been ditched.
Dumped.
Evaded.
Abandoned.
As half of a couple, that didn’t give him a sunshine-y feeling in the pit of his stomach.
In fact, it pissed him off.
The last thing that he wanted to do today was play these kinds of games. His arm was killing him, he was bitchy, and that anger was making it damn difficult to be rational.
What the holy shitfest did a guy have to do to just live his life and do his goddamn job without one of his bosses fucking with his life?
What?
Could someone tell him that?
This was like a nightmare that NEVER ended.
Since his partner had gone AWOL, it appeared that Gene was back on wrangling duty, but this time to wherever Ethan had roamed off to hide.
Because he’d been in a very dark and bad place in his head, he’d tried to get back on a flight last night, but every flight had been full.
Of course, they were.
Oh, and when he’d planned on driving from DC to Philly to get to Gabriel Rothschild, there had been pushback on that plan.
As in his babysitter wouldn’t let him.
Greyson refused to let him drive anywhere.
Apparently, pain meds and driving were a no-go for Greyson. Instead, he’d shoved his ass into his car and drove him back to the condo where he was going to be held hostage until morning.
That was the same condo where Gene called Ethan about five thousand times to leave voicemails and check to see if he was okay—only to be ignored.
And that didn’t make him happier.
Not.
At.
All.
It made him angry that all of his calls went right to his voicemail box, and not to the man himself.
Due to that, Gene had spent the night panicking over what might be going on.
Oh, and he prayed a lot, putting on a freaking rosary too. That said it all.
He was terrified.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t annoyed and angry at the man who did this.
Or should he say men?
At Ethan.
At Gabe.
At Greyson.
That was never a good thing. It made him a bitch to deal with, and deal with they all would.
When he’d tried to sneak out, Greyson did something so dirty and underhanded to him that it was appalling. He stole his wallet, keys, and badge.
Then, he doubled down and called Alice to come help him manage the hostage situation.
Yeah, he did him dirty, and it was crystal clear that Greyson was an asshole.