“Lieutenant! Easy, easy! We’re the rescue team. I’m Corporal Jameson, medic. We’ll get you out of here.”
Duncan couldn’t focus properly, his vision a blur, heaving. The thick taste of blood lining his mouth. “My men… don’t leave them…”
Another voice as the medic pulled his arm straight. “The enemy has been eliminated so we’ll take them too, don’t worry.” Talking to the medic maybe, that pity in his voice laced with horror. “Pump him full.”
“Yes, sir.” Something pushed in, cool, invading his veins. More meds jammed in his shoulder.
Duncan’s eyelids fluttered, his tears sliding down in all that blood and filth, something pushed on his nose and mouth, but he couldn’t fight, floating away on that voice. “It will be fine… we’ll get you out of here… you’re safe now…”
“I couldn’t go to his funeral…” He had to clear his throat, his voice which had somehow drowned in that tight throat. “I was still in rehab when they buried them. Turns out I had multiple internal injuries, a broken arm, and leg… concussions, whatnot… We were not married, so I didn’t get the flag… his parents didn’t know… Patrick was not out. Not yet… We were planning on coming clear after that mission, even if the team knew, his parents and friends didn’t.” Remembering that day when Sinclair came to talk to him in that lush military rehab centre.
Sitting in the park in a wheelchair, in grey sweatpants and a light T-shirt, reading in the shade of a tree with his legs propped up, one still in a light plastic brace, he was reading a book, trying to grasp the words when his meds still made him float a bit.
Turning to that tall man wearing a full suit in the middle of summer, a tie neatly clipped to the front, a golden clip, the sun glinting on it. His hair slicked back, his small moustache, holding a manila folder, dark blue and gold. Duncan’s caution flared up, but he couldn’t have done anything, drugged up and still not fully valid with his leg, and other injuries. Thick bandages around his waist too.
The man smiled down at him, and held his hand out. “Lieutenant Lambert, I’m Sinclair Morrison.”
Duncan shook his hand, watching him pull a garden chair close and sit with his smile.
“I’ve been told you are on the mend and retired from service?”
Duncan swallowed, still unable to comprehend what that meant. “Yes… I’m sorry, who are you?”
The man pushed that blue folder on Duncan’s knees. “I’m Sinclair, as I said. The owner of Sinclair’s Angels. We’re a security company catering the best bodyguards to the rich.”
Duncan smoothed his palms on that folder. Dark blue, with golden angel wings framing the name. “And why did you come here?”
A small smile, one he had gotten to know later during the years. “As I said, I heard you’re jobless, and thought that maybe you’d want to work for me.”
Duncan swallowed. “How much do you know? I’m not in the best mental state to…”
Sinclair raised his hand. “I know enough. And I’d still love to have you on board. With your skills, you could make good money.”
Duncan was floating a bit. “I have to stay here for a while… until…”
“I know. Until you heal. But that is a matter of weeks?” He stood. “I’ll leave the folder so you can read through it and make an informed decision. My card is in there, just email me when you’ve made up your mind.”
Duncan looked up at him. “Alright… thanks…”
“Don’t forget. A door closes; another one opens. I can help you find a purpose again.” He left without waiting for a reply, and Duncan had decided the next day.
“The rest, as they say, is history… and now you know all the fucked up shit that led me here. And you can run.”
Meeting those wide eyes, watching Spencer’s tears slide down his cheeks, silent.Shit.Waiting for him to run to the bathroom and throw up, just like Trent had done when he had told him. Trent had then left, wanting time to think, and air to breathe, and Duncan had stayed alone, howling in bed.
His eyes going a bit wide when Spencer just laced his arms around him, wedging his head in his chest. “I’m so sorry…”
Duncan patted his back. “It’s fine… it’s gone…” Not even sure if he was not bullshitting himself, he still thought Spencer would leave him. “You want to have a walk, clear your head? I know it’s a lot, and frankly fucked up…”
Spencer just pushed away and lay down, pulling Duncan on his chest. Lacing his arm around Duncan’s shoulders, his hand pushing into his hair, holding him against his racing heart. “People left you alone? Is that it?”
Duncan sighed, fighting his tears. “I can’t blame them.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, ok? I’m not letting you go.”
Holding him tighter as Duncan broke down crying, rocking in his arms, and Spencer’s dark eyes went to that lashing rain, all that darkness inside of him sucking up Duncan’s suffering likeliquid blood. That mountain of anger burning in his eyes for all that Duncan had lived. A new strength in Spencer, holding that crying man. A new fire in his chest. That he could provide this, this haven. That he could protect him with his arms and his beating heart. His lips. That burning wrath feeding on hate. That heart, burning with an unknown fire. Planting soft kisses on his hair, his temple, his forehead, stroking him softly, rocking him a bit as he held him then tight. Rocking him on that heart beating with a vengeance, fuelled by that dark blood. That raging blood, thirsting for more.
Chapter 16
