Sanctuary 02 - The Only Easy Day (CMS) (MM) (13 page)

Joseph moved his aim directly at Robert and squeezed off a round into the boy, who immediately slumped forward unconscious. Dale didn't even have time to process the act before Joseph used the distraction to twist the gun out of Alastair 's hand. Then he had his gun aimed back at a clearly outmaneuvered Alastair.

"Tell me why you had her killed," Joseph said calmly, "'cause I don't give a shit which one of you I have to shoot to find out."

"Fuck! Joseph!" Dale shouted. He held his sight on Greg, but holy shit, Joseph had just shot Robert. What the hell? Robert's chest was still moving as he breathed, but where the fuck had the bullet entered? He couldn't see through the blood dripping to the floor from the previous violence.

"Why what?" There was a sudden note of confusion in Greg's voice.

"Elisabeth Costain."

"What—?" Alastair 's hands were definitely shaking, but even he couldn't hide his recognition of Elisabeth's name. Dale looked at Joseph in that second when realization crossed Joseph's face that what he had just overheard in the corridor was true. Greg or Alastair, it didn't matter; one of them had ordered Elisabeth shot.

Alastair knew the name. Dale wanted to shout this meant nothing. Maybe Elisabeth had been nothing to him but another casualty in whatever empire the Bullens were attempting to run. 

"Why?"

"I didn't kill her." Alastair sneered.

"Then tell me who you paid to have it done and I may let you live," Joseph said dispassionately.

"She was getting too close." Greg was shaking now.

Clearly he was the loose thread here. Alastair swore at him to shut the fuck up, but Greg kept talking. "It was her own fault."

"Why the cop?" That was the question, the one they all wanted an answer too.

"He had worked for us before. He was easy." Greg wasn't lying. His fear laced every single word. Christ, even through the fear, it sounded like he was proud of the fact he had killers on his books. Greg stood straight. Evidently he had gone through his options and realized these guys with guns had nothing on him. Like he couldn't be touched.

Suddenly it was very clear, even as Bullen looked past Joseph and relief flooded his features, they had an answer.

Shit. Greg was focusing on something in the doorway. Dale was supposed to be watching Joseph's back, and he spun on his heel as a guy he recognized from the kitchen was weaving in the doorway with a gun in his hand pointed right at Joseph.

Abruptly Dale was faced with a choice, and there was only one option he could choose. He had to move his focus from Greg and deal with this new threat. The confusion and shouts were too much, and he acted on instinct, tackling the security guard to the ground and forcing the bullet he'd shot off to go wide. Fuck knew where it went but a well-placed punch meant there would be no more bullets sent into the room from this particular wannabe henchman. He rolled to his feet with his gun secure in his hand, and his gaze swept the scenario in front of him. Joseph was struggling to lift Robert from his slumped position, and Alastair was standing next to Greg, who was lying still on the floor, a single bullet entry in his forehead and a spreading lake of blood and fuck knows what else about his head. For a second, Dale looked at Joseph, catching his gaze and the expression of determination he had in his gray eyes. Had Joseph shot Greg? Joseph clearly saw the question in Dale's silence.

"I didn't shoot him. Stray freaking bullet. Help me move Robert; he needs help."

Robert sank to his knees on the other side of Greg, and for a moment, Dale imagined he was grieving. Then it made sense. The son was groping through his dad's pockets, through blood and fuck knows what else, until triumphantly he pulled something from a pocket. He knelt forward to grab at a piece of paper covered in blood. Hell if he knew what that was all about.

Dale kept his gun hand free pointed all the while at Alastair, who had the fire of anger in his eyes. A single lurch and he was barreling into Robert and Dale. Dale stumbled backwards, and Robert slumped forward. His head smashed against the edge of a dresser. With one roundhouse kick from Joseph, Alastair was unconscious.

Dale struggled to get a shoulder under Robert's arm.

The blood was making a good grip impossible.

He was shouting at Joseph. "You shot Robert, you freaking—"

"Flesh wound. Took Alastair's gun away from his temple." Joseph sounded like he was giving a sit rep, but the anger still coiled inside Dale. What was all that shit about calm and peace that Joseph had fed him on the cliff?

This wasn't a calm and controlled situation; this was chaos.

"Dale!" Joseph was shouting at him. "For God's sake work with me here. We need to get the kid to a hospital. Get to the cars."

Dale snapped back to the here and now. "Keys."

"Took a pile from the rack in the kitchen," Joseph grunted as he took Robert's weight. Together they made their way down the stairs and out the main front door. 

When they reached the garage, Dale supported a now conscious Robert, who was groaning and forcing words through split lips. Joseph depressed the button on the first set of keys, and the locks opened on a bright red Lamborghini. Joseph slid into the passenger seat, and Dale manhandled Robert across his lap.

In five, they were away from the Bullen house, and Dale drove like the hounds of hell were on his tail.

Joseph was checking on Robert.

"Is he okay?" Dale asked as he took a left toward the hospital. "You shot him."

Joseph twisted in his seat and sat back. Dale chanced a look at him, and where before there had been a glimpse of humanity in the sailor, now there was icy determination and a blank expression

"You fucking shot him," Dale repeated. He couldn't believe what he had seen. US Navy personnel shooting a friendly.

"I saved his life," Joseph said firmly

"How the hell do you—"

"We needed him out of the equation. So all eyes were on us. Alastair was seconds from shooting his nephew."

"You don't know that." 

"Dale. Just drive." That was a signal the conversation was finished. As the car broached city limits, and the emergency room sign appeared on the road, Dale concentrated on getting them there. 

"We found him" was clearly not cutting it with hospital administration, and despite Robert being whisked away for treatment, there were an awful lot of questions Dale had to answer.

Dale, because Joseph had gone AWOL. He'd seriously just dumped Robert and Dale at the door to the ER and driven off in the Lambo without a backward glance. Asshole. Cops had been called because of the shooting, but a well-placed call from Sanctuary Ops had smoothed the situation with the hospital somewhat. God knows what they had said, but the cops went from suspicious to supportive in an instant. Nik's arrival maybe two hours after Robert and he had been dumped at the hospital was enough to calm Dale down from acutely pissed to just plain furious. He was pacing the empty waiting room with the door shut, and Nik was simply sitting there and letting Dale release all the shit circling in his head.

"Then he shot Robert."

"In the arm; it was a wing shot, Dale. It was a distraction. You know that better than I do."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it." Dale winced as Nik looked curious.

"Joseph got the job done, and he didn't kill anyone.

Why would you need to like it? "

Good question. Why was Dale standing there feeling like Joseph should have run every step of this past him before shooting Robert? How stupid was that? Robert was so badly beaten that a single bullet wound would have pushed him over the edge to temporary unconsciousness.

Joseph had to have known that.

"He wasn't trying to kill the boy, or even Greg himself."

"Not like Christian Harris when he killed his wife and baby and the husband, you mean." Dale knew exactly where this conversation was heading. Thank God Nik's phone sounded at that point; otherwise, the conversation could have become very sticky.

Nik nodded then answered his cell. Clearly Sanctuary Ops was on the phone by Nik's side of the conversation.

"We're moving him?"

"Sanctuary eighteen as soon as possible."

Every Sanctuary safe house had medical supplies, but eighteen had an actual medical team on standby in the same town. It was a good place for Robert to be safe and to heal.

"They're worried about him."

"The senator will no doubt put out a press release about how devastated the family is, but he'll stay away from this. It's the youngest brother we have an issue with.

Alastair. He's unpredictable, and we know from intelligence we gathered he and Greg were close. So we need to get Robert safe from his uncles."

"Is he okay to move?"

"They're keeping him sedated but doc is here for transport."

Dale nodded. Kayden Summers was the doctor attached to eighteen, and even though they had never met, he was apparently very good at his job.

"I'm going with him," Dale said firmly.

"Assumed you would. Where did Joseph get to?"

Dale wasn't ready to start talking about Joseph again, and instead of answering, he shrugged and left the room. He was going to find Kayden and assist in moving Robert to the safe house. That was enough to be considering now.

He didn't give a rat's ass where the sailor had got to.

* * * *

The ground was wet and cold, and there wasn't a proper gravestone yet. His mom had said it was still being carved—an angel in stone with simple words and

Elisabeth's name. Placing his jacket on the grass, he sat cross-legged in the stillness of the cemetery and then pulled out his cell.

His mom answered on the first ring, almost like she had been waiting for his call.

"Joseph?"

"Is Harvey there?"

"I'll call him," she said. He heard her call Harvey to the phone. "Are you okay?" she asked quickly. He laughed inwardly. After the emotional roller coaster he had ridden the last few days, all he had to show for it was another man's blood on his jacket. Was he okay? He'd seen the complete shock in Dale's expression when he had shot Robert. Dale hadn't understood. Probably still didn't. He needed a distraction because he had seen something in Greg's eyes that scared him. Ice. An expression that held no warmth, no passion. It was a reflection of how he sometimes felt. Like nothing out there could touch him anymore. He had seen so much, heard so many screams, watched so many die. Yes, he had saved lives, and he was damn good at what he did—it was his life—but he didn't want to have ice inside him.

He wanted with every part of him to have connected with Elisabeth, maybe to have been that big brother she had wanted. Was that what Dale meant when he had said that underneath the big bad was a heart?

"Son?" Harvey's voice was low, and it dripped with so much feeling Joseph's chest tightened with sadness.

"We know who did it—he admitted it—but we have no evidence to back it up."

"Nothing to take him to trial?" Harvey sounded broken, and Joseph concentrated hard on his next words.

"He's dead, Harvey. Shot by his own security in a firefight." Joseph didn't mention the fact that Alastair may well have been involved; that was a story for another day.

Today was a day for putting ghosts to rest.

Silence. The emptiness across the phone line was testament to Joseph's inability to handle others' grief. He had nothing to say. He couldn't even bring himself to hand over the usual platitudes.

"Thank you, Joseph."

Fuck. What did he say to that? You're welcome? No worries. No. Harvey deserved the truth.

"I'm sorry I was too late. I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I never properly knew Elisabeth." His voice was calm and low, but emotion choked his throat. He had never spoken truer words in his life than what he was saying now.

His stepsister had deserved to meet him, have a family, be the normal part of his life.

"Joseph…" Harvey's voice was thick with tears.

There was a sound and the noise of muffled discussion coming through the phone. Clearly Harvey was catching Joseph's mother up on what had happened. When she took over the handset, his mom's voice was a welcome return.

"Sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Joseph." She used the patented don't-give-me-bullshit tone she had perfected over the years of being a single mom to a growing boy. It never failed to make him smile now that he was older, but as a child, it had instilled the fear of God into him.

"Just having a bad day is all." He closed his eyes.

The code that the only easy day was yesterday didn't really apply when your emotions were shredded.

"You're safe though."

"I'm safe. I promise you."

"What happened?"

"I met someone," Joseph finally admitted.

"Navy? In Iraq?"

"Here."

"Before you left?"

"Yesterday." Or was it two days ago? It hadn't been long.

"And you like him?" His mom sounded intrigued.

Somehow it felt wrong to be talking about his feelings over the phone sitting next to his sister's grave. He wondered what his mom would make of Dale.

"No. Yes. Could be. I just feel—"
What do I feel?

"—unsettled I guess."

"Tell me about him, sweetheart."

So he did. 

Dale had a high opinion of Doctor Kayden Summers. The slim curly-headed man was a deadly serious type, but he really knew his stuff. Admittedly, he never seemed to smile or enter into conversation with anyone about anything less important than life or death situations.

Still, that was good for Robert, who needed someone on his side. At the moment Kayden was issuing orders to a group of harassed nurses and aides and to a hospital doctor, who was attempting to stare Kayden down with a look of fury.

"You are playing with his life here." The ER doctor was gesticulating wildly with each syllable. It wasn't surprising the ER attending was showing a lack of respect.

Kayden's curly hair was a few days past a cut, and his stubble made his features hard. He was dressed in jeans and a black shirt, and over it, a leather jacket fell to his hip line.