Page 26 of Holiday Scars
With the television on to cut through the white noise, I watch out the window as the day fades away. Deep in the woods, the thick branches of tall pines block out the moonlight, leaving the cabin and the area around it in pitch black until you get to the road.
That’s when the enemy will come. I go to the bedroom and from my duffel, grab my gun and snag Jett’s, too.
I toss it to him, and he catches it.
“What do we do if those Fed show up here?” Jett asks.
“Easy.” I rack the slide to check the chamber. “We kill them.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jett
I open my eyes to someone nudging my shoulder. My head is pressed against something warm and solid. Blade’s chest rises under my cheek. His arm is still around me.
“Hey,” a voice says above my head.
I raise my weapon. “Get back!”
“Jett, it’s me.” Dirk grabs the gun, brows drawn together like he’s trying to make sense of what he’s seeing.
I follow his gaze to me and Blade snuggled on the sofa.Gulp.“Oh. Um.”
“What the hell are you two doing?” Dirk’s brows are pulled together.
I shoot up fast, nearly tripping over the blanket tangled around my legs. “Dirk, Jesus Christ. Where the fuck have you been?”
My brother looks from me to Blade, still passed out, hair sticking up in all directions. “I think you’d better answer my question first.”
I scrub a hand down my face, feeling stubble. “We did the survival game. At the overlook, past the mid-trail, we came across two Feds combing the woods. They were looking for you. We listened from behind a tree. They said something about mercenaries wanting tattoos. Said you weren’t cooperating.”
Dirk curses under his breath and looks toward Hana. She’s standing in the kitchen, gobsmacked with a bottle of water hovering in front of her lips.
“Dirty blond flat top, looks like he hasn’t been laid in a decade?” he asks.
“Yeah.” My body goes cold.
Dirk’s expression shifts from irritation to something darker. “That’s Agent Reichart.”
“Youknowhim?”
“He’s been harassing me for weeks,” Dirk mutters, taking a seat. “He and his dick partner keep asking about some mercenary ring, people marked up a certain way. I told them to shove it. I don’t do gang tats.”
“Dirk!” Blade finally wakes up and launches himself at my brother. “We were fucking worried about you.”
The way they hug, and then Dirk’s eyes flying to me, I can tell he smells my cologne on Blade. Or something more.
“I’m good, man.” Dirk grips Blade’s shirt. “Hana, give me a minute. Blade, can I talk to you a sec?”
Blade steps back, alarmed at the tone. “Sure.”
Dirk practically drags Blade to his bedroom. He slams the door, but the cabin is small and my brother is larger than life. His voice carries.
Still, I move closer and listen in the hallway.
“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Dirk asks in a low and tense voice.
“Nothing,” Blade shoots out quickly. Too quickly.
