He turned his attention back to his paperwork as a dismissal, but then stopped Nate before he left the office. "Nate..." He thought for a moment. "When...I lost Wyatt's mother... that was probably the darkest time in my life. So if Garret really is in love with that woman...keep an eye on him. I'd hate to see him slit his wrists like Carson did when he was here." He shrugged then waved Nate out, but it was apparent that underneath his concern for his agents and for safety...he really did care about Garret's well-being.
Down in his cell, Garret had reverted to pushups on the floor after he'd been unsuccessful at keeping his tears at bay. But even in his meager attempt to distract himself, his mind took him to places he'd rather not visit. The Agency had stolen Victoria from him...but it wasn't the first time they'd taken from him what he valued.
He'd been eight years old. He'd only kept the little dog hidden out back behind the facility for a week, but had already formed a bond. Then his handler had found out. And after finding the rope cut, he'd heard the shot, and knew. But despite him attacking the armed man for what he'd done, he was still forced to dig the grave.
He stared at the concrete floor as he did another pushup. He wished he'd forgotten. Yet it wasn't even the worst of what the Agency had done.
Fourteen and already trained to kill. There was only one other boy there his age who he associated with, and the only other person he'd formed any kind of friendship with since being at this new basecamp. Then it was early morning when he'd heard the commotion. He'd stayed in his bunk, knowing full well not to interfere with whatever was going on outside. He'd later find out that Matt had tried to escape and had been shot and killed before he'd made it over the wall.
Another pushup. Garret had shed no tears then. And he refused to now. He wasn't sad. He was angry. Angry that it had taken him so long to see what the Agency really was. Angry that he'd refused to recognize the truth all these years. That he'd ignored his gut, his own heart, simply because he knew no other kind of life. It was safer for him there than out in the world. But even as cruel as the world could be...nothing could ever compare to the cruelty of the Agency. Nothing. And today...today it still held his beloved in its grasp, despite all he'd done. For as much power as he'd always thought he had...he truly was powerless.
Another pushup. But they weren't doing any good. He finally stopped and simply resumed his usual seat on the floor, his eyes staring dimly at the open door. Any minute now, someone would be here to close and lock that door, just like always. He'd desperately wanted to avoid prison. But was this really any better? Maybe he'd been wrong about everything.
Medridge sat behind his desk, his mind far from the papers laid before him. His one hand fiddled with his cane, while his eyes roamed the spacious office. His granddaughter had returned from the United States alone. No Garret. No Aaron. And that could only mean one of two things. Either the men had been captured - which Medridge deemed highly unlikely - or they had been killed. And if Garret was dead...that changed everything.
He glanced to the door as movement caught his eye, and he offered Victoria a small smile. "Ah, my dear, you return. I'm glad." He cocked his head as his fingers stayed busy on his cane. "So...tell me why you have come back alone."
Alec’s eyes slowly opened, all of his senses lethargic and muted. He didn’t know where he was, or why he’d been asleep, or even for how long. Gradually, his eyes brought his surroundings into focus. He was lying on his back in a bed. The room was stark. It smelled sterile. But the lights were dim. His left shoulder and chest hurt, and he was finding it just a little hard to breathe.
“He’s awake.”
The voice seemed muffled and far away. Alec tried to sit up, but only then did he realize his wrists and ankles were restrained, strapped to the bed. Feeling a prick in his arm, he turned his head just in time to see a man in a white lab coat giving him a shot. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out before he drifted back into unconsciousness.
The next few days at the ranch were tense…at least for Eric. Stacy had given him a sense of assurance that helped him face the others, but he avoided any and all talk about the babies. Instead, he threw himself into work in the barn and spent quite a bit of time on the phone trying to sort through the logistics of the truck run he’d passed on to the other driver. One thing he refused to do though, was see the twins. He’d catch glimpses of them from a distance at Angel’s or Mick and Rosetta’s, but he avoided contact at all costs. Not until he knew. Not until he got official word one way or the other…
“…so you gotta be real careful when buying a horse at an auction.” Eric brushed one side of the horse tied in the barn, while he let Ashlee brush the other. It was a quiet afternoon and after exercising some of the horses, he’d wound up here to relax and spend time with Ashlee, too.
He opened his mouth to say more about the art of finding good horses, but was stopped as Mick came around the corner.
“Hey, Eric.”
Eric nodded at him. “Hey. What’s up.”
“Um…got a second?”
Eric quirked an eyebrow at Mick’s serious tone, then threw Ashlee a wink. “I wanna see this coat shining by the time I come back,” he teased. He set his brush aside and followed Mick out near the barn entrance. “Something wrong?”
Mick didn’t answer, but simply handed him a piece of paper.
Eric took it, but his brow furrowed in confusion. Looking over the text, he realized it was a fax. From Rick Johnston. And as he read the words, he honestly didn’t know what it was that he felt. Perhaps shock was the only close enough word. He slowly folded the piece of paper, dodging Mick’s eyes.
Mick cleared his throat. “I, um… Is there anything…” He let his own sentence drift off as Eric simply walked away. Sighing, he wandered back into the barn to make sure Ashlee wasn’t abandoned completely.
Eric tucked the paper in his back pocket as he headed out behind the barn where no one else was. Leaning on the top rail of the fence, his cowboy hat shielded his eyes from the sun…or anyone who might try to read his face. Tears stung his eyes but he held them back as his stomach turned and twisted. Even breathing seemed hard to do.
After a few minutes, he climbed the fence and wandered into the back pasture, his boots rustling softly through the grass that had been allowed to grow. He stopped a distance away from the ranch yard and slowly dropped to his knees. There were so many things he’d faced in his life. So many family tragedies. So many hardships. So many bad things. And he’d pushed on. Survived. Continued to function. But this…had thrown him for a bigger loop than anything else. It should be a good thing…yet it felt like the most impossible mountain to climb. Dana hadn’t lied. For once. And now…the future had become more uncertain than ever before. How on earth was he going to handle this?
No comments:
Post a Comment