Always and Forever: An Echo Rescue Series Novella Read online

  “How long has it been since you did any type of PT?”

  Rico laughed. “I haven’t had to do physical therapy in months, why? Are you worried I’m going to drop dead on you?”

  “No. I’m a fully trained first responder. I told you I have toys here which will make you squeal like a little girl at Christmas.” Try as he might, Rico couldn’t help but wince at the picture Troy painted. “Wrong analogy? Fine. Get your ass moving and you’ll get the full tour,” Troy added, disappearing out the door.

  He downed the bottle of water, wished he had another and with a few grunts and weaving from side to side, got himself upright and down the hall. Fucking vertigo. It seemed to only happen after what he called his red haze times. When he lost fragments of his memory. It usually only happened when someone else was an asshole first. Which is how he had stayed out of jail. Until now.

  Now, he was in Troy’s personal little jail for reforming soldiers. Good luck, bitch. He didn’t need to be reformed. The fucking perverts who devastated the lives of the innocent were the ones who needed to be reclaimed and eradicated. Rico had made it his personal mission to do so. Only problem was, the dead kept talking.

  Even now as he climbed into the shower and let the hot water wash away all evidence of the night before, his mind rebelled. He was back to what put him in his uncle’s crosshairs to begin with. Donnie. Old stepdad from hell. His mom had settled for shit while he was in the service. Fucking A, had he known what a cluster this man was, he would have gotten out rather than make the Marines a career.

  Rico allowed the warmth to invade his bones and temporarily chase the ghosts far away. He listened to the sound of the spray hitting the tile. Its symphony of droplets was soothing. All too soon he had to leave the comforts of the silent rainfall, but found everything he needed just as Troy said he would. He even brushed his hair before the curls made it impossible to do so.

  For a split second he thought about shaving it all off when he saw an electric razor in the cupboard. Then he remembered the look on Troy’s face when he had tugged on them. If there were any hope of a good fucking, he’d keep the long hair for now.

  He’d give Tee props. His set up was top-notch. Efficient and state-of-the-art, all on fucking timers too, or could be rigged that way. Rico headed back to the room he’d slept in with a towel and cleaner he found under the sink. Least he could do was clean up his own vomit, though it would probably be a repeat again tonight. When he rounded the corner, he expected to see Troy waiting on him, but found a big, black bull-dozer instead with tight, short, black hair and a goatee. The man he’d mistaken for a piece of machinery had the deep shade of brown, almost actual black, he had ever seen on an African American.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Rico demanded.

  “Name’s Sugar. Least that’s what you can call me on account of how sweet and loveable I am until I ain’t anymore.” Sugar smiled offering his gloved-up hand then laughed. “Guess you’d be Rico. Tee said you’d probably be stopping back in here. Told him it was no problem cleaning up after a brother. We got to have each other’s backs, am I right?”

  Rico was stunned. What the fuck was this place? A home for runaway, orphaned ex-mutant soldiers? If so, what the fuck was he doing here? Tee he could understand. He was a giant. Sugar was a friggin’ brick house. All Rico had was height. Don’t forget your fucking curly hair, bitch.

  “If you’re looking for Tee, he’s upstairs debriefing Hornet while he cooks breakfast. You go on your run yet?” Sugar eyed him knowingly.

  “Nah, I was told to take it easy after last night,” he answered honestly. Surprised by the easy-going vibe Sugar gave off, Rico removed his foot from the step he had just placed it upon. “You work for Tee?”

  “In a manner of speaking. You ain’t there yet, am I right? Let it go, Elsa. Let it go. You’ll find out soon enough if you get your head out of your ass.”

  “And you did?” Rico piped up.

  “Did what?” Sugar asked tossing the garbage down a hole in the wall Rico hadn’t even noticed before.

  “Got your head out of your ass.” Rico crossed his arms but didn’t relax. How do you relax with a linebacker ready to pound your ass into the ground three feet away? “’Cause you sound an awful lot like Tee. You sure he shouldn’t be a Preacher Man?” Rico was expecting a right hook or a straight jab to his gut. What he got was a belly laugh that echoed loudly in the lower level chamber making his ears ring.

  “Rico, I hope you never lose your sense of humor. You’re one funny man, am I right? Come on. One lap around the complex should be enough to earn you breakfast.”

  Sugar took hold of his bicep, which wasn’t small, but seemed to disappear inside of the meaty hand of the bruiser. Wide as a truck, Sugar didn’t allow his upper body strength to slow him down any. As a matter of fact, Rico was gasping for more air before they were halfway around the wood and cement structure. At least he thought it was cement. The way Sugar talked it could be some state of the art, cutting edge material. Just who have you been fucking to get all of these sweet toys, Troy? Why are you helping the likes of me?

  “Not bad,” Sugar said tossing a towel in his direction when they stopped outside of the gym. “You’ll get stronger. Tee will see to it. If you ever need a sparring partner, I’m in. Tell Tee to give me a jangle. Semper Fi.”

  “Ooh-rah,” Rico responded automatically. He gritted his teeth against the anger which immediately began to boil in his gut. It was hard some days to remember it wasn’t the Corps that was rotten, it was just some of the leadership.

  “All I know is we’re gonna need another person for this job, Troy. You can’t keep ignoring the fact. I’ve given you seven or eight good candidates and you’ve found issues with every one of them,” a female voice spoke with irritation and authority as he followed Sugar up the stairs to what appeared to be the main floor.

  “Whoa now, lookie here, Rico. Mom and Pop are fighting, am I right?” Sugar grinned his perfectly straight, white teeth brightening his features. “That there is Hornet. She’ll bust your balls if you look at her sideways, so I wouldn’t breathe wrong. Are we interrupting?” Sugar asked.

  “No, you aren’t interrupting anything,” Troy stated. Hornet sighed heavily grabbing papers from the eat in island and buzzing around Troy, whispering things Rico couldn’t quite catch.

  “You sure, Tee?” he asked. “Your girlfriend seems pretty needy. When you go switchin’ up things on me?” Rico grinned and laid on the charm. “A beautiful woman such as she is could turn any man’s head.” He had to admit, Tee had himself quite the setup. Stainless steel, industrial type kitchen reminded him of KP duty when he was in basic training.

  “Go fuck yourself, Rico,” Hornet answered. “You’re not my type.”

  “What type is your type, beautiful? Dark? Red?”

  “The kind with vaginas,” Hornet answered. Sugar burst out laughing and Tee. Tee just kept looking at him as if he were the meal.

  “Hang around, Jill,” Troy commented. Cocksucker didn’t give two shits that they were all going to die. “We might find out he has a vagina after all. Did he run?” The question was directed toward Sugar and not him.

  “Yes, Colonel,” Sugar answered.

  Fucker didn’t even have the respect to ask me. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

  “Yo! Colonel Asshole.” Yeah that got your attention didn’t it. “I’m standing right here. Ask me. Yeah, I ran. Poorly, but I fucking ran. I did as you asked so I can get the fuck out of here.” When would he learn nothing good ever came out of Troy grinning like he used to in high school when he was plotting how to get Mr. Wilson’s VW on the roof of the middle school?

  “You doin’ what I ask of you warms me in places that ain’t been warmed in a long damn time,” Troy tossed an orange in his direction. “Makes me think I might have to get out the special toys, just for you.”

  That is when the sniggers started from the peanut gallery. Sugar started singin’ his rendition of Rihanna’s “S & M”
while Hornet’s knowing grin left him the man on the outside. Fine. Just where he wanted to be. Out. Of. Here. Rico did his best to ignore them all, though he did his share of looking at Troy while he flipped hotcakes. What the hell happened to you? Why are you so fucking set on helping me? How did you get that scar? This place? What do you owe my uncle? Rico was lost in his own thoughts as he sat in the chair farthest from the action. He almost didn’t catch Tee doing his own glancing.

  Rico burned each time their eyes connected. Guess he really was fucked up if he wanted to leave like no other, but still wanted one quick fuck for old times’ sake with Troy. He’d peeled the orange in anger, not realizing how big of a mess he was making until Hornet tossed a bar rag at his head. Other than flip her off, Rico managed to keep silent. Perhaps it was because they had all been there, too, and didn’t make a big deal out of it. Perhaps he just didn’t want to make Tee feel like he’d made a mistake in front of his friends. Whichever it was, Rico cleaned up the juice and pulp tossed the peeling into a napkin before tossing it away. He’d just sat back down again when Sugar blocked his sight of Troy and vise versa.

  “We can trust my boy here with the real silver, am I right, Rico?” Sugar put an empty plate in front of him. “You aren’t the type to try something as stupid as using the silverware for a weapon now are you son?”

  “I ain’t your son and I’ve never been stupid. Vindictive son of a bitch maybe, but never stupid,” he retorted. Tension reigned while he weighed the possibility of punching Sugar and getting away with it.

  “Food’s ready.” Troy interrupted the rest of what he may have said. His gaze was caught and held. Rico would be damned if he’d break eye contact first. Let the cocksucking “Colonel” lower his glance first.

  Troy

  Push Comes to Shove

  Troy was glad Hornet and Sugar had made an unscheduled visit that morning. He, himself, had already ran five miles when the notification on his phone alerted him to an approaching vehicle long before they buzzed at the gate. It allowed him time to appear as if he had his shit together. With Rico in his basement, he didn’t sleep for shit. Especially after he heard the first shout of Ricochet’s nightmare. Then, he lay in his bed waiting. Worrying and listening to Rico cry, rage, and finally get sick before doing it all over again.

  Seeing Rico that morning only brought his own memories to the forefront. One of these days, he would fess up to the team, but as the Facebook memes say, today was not the day. He shoved his own concerns down for the sake of Rico. More worried whether his old friend would make it through the DTs, but since he didn’t really know Rico’s drinking habits, he was just making an educated guess that his brah needed to detox. For now, he’d focus on making breakfast and not on the fact there was a naked God downstairs in one of his showers. Which was made easier by Hornet’s nonstop tirade about an upcoming job he had to pick additional team members to help with. His problem was finding someone he could trust not to stab him in the back.

  If only Rico could be that man, he thought, holding Rico’s storm filled gaze. The steaming pile of hotcakes towering between them. Troy couldn’t help but lift the corner of his mouth meeting the silent challenge of dominance head on. This was a game he was the Grand Master at playing. Rico would have one choice and one choice only.

  “Listen up well, Rico,” he stated low, deep and with authority. “You want to do this now, we do it. Or we can sit here and eat breakfast and pretend like we’re nice people.” Tee let a beat or two of silence pass between them. He had no doubt that Sugar and Hornet were waiting to see what transpired. “You decide.”

  “Fuck brother, you two need to get a room, am I right?” Sugar spoke up as he sat an enormous plate of sausage on the table and pulled out a chair. “I don’t care what you two do, but I am going to eat.”

  Yeah, Troy owed Sugar for breaking Rico’s concentration. Not that he wouldn’t have followed through. He would have without question. Whether Rico would be able to tolerate a full session would be playing in the back of his mind and make him second guess his judgement and Troy knew it.

  “Eat your pancakes, Rico. You can challenge my authority later.”

  On second thought, maybe Troy shouldn’t have told Rico he could challenge his authority. The angry bastard took it as a personal goal to treat every heavyweight punching bag like his own motherfucking demon. Tee didn’t know if Rico had something to prove to him, or if he was just trying to get rid of the ghosts tagging his ass, but Rico hammered the bag with a purpose.

  Sugar and Hornet gave up on the show long about the fourth or fifth hour when he made a reluctant Rico take a much needed break to rehydrate. It was then he added the sparring. Things went well when he sparred with Sugar. Jerk for brains refused to spar with Hornet stating he’d take a beat down by her, Sugar, or anyone than hit a woman. Hornet called him a right wing butt muncher who would probably suck the President’s dick if given have the chance.

  Troy’s eyebrows rose so far into his hairline, he didn’t think he would have lived to see the day when Hornet was as insulted as she had been in that moment. He wanted to laugh, but at which one? Rico’s dressing down, or Hornet not getting her way. Tee was positive when she stormed out that she would be back looking for a way to blow off some steam. It made him glad he hadn’t snickered after all. He’d need the control for the whip later.

  “Colonel, I am going to make sure that Hornet does not hurt herself, am I right?” Sugar responded. “See you, Rico. Next time, just let her get in the ring and take the beat down. She’s easier to live with that way, am I right?”

  For once, Sugar did have it right. Hornet did think she had to fight against the entire male species. With all of her older brothers, he wasn’t surprised she felt the need to compete in a male dominated society. Fact was, she was the best damn pilot he knew. She wasn’t bad with hand to hand combat or weapons either.

  “You got any hand wraps?” Rico asked pulling him from his thoughts.

  “Yep. Even got some pretty pink ones to match that split lip,” he mocked, but regretted it the moment Rico’s tongue licked the small cut. “I’ll get some for you,” he added after clearing his throat. Maybe it wasn’t a good thing for the two of them to be left alone together after all.

  Troy adjusted himself in his workout pants. If just a hint of Rico’s tongue was going to do this to him, how would he concentrate on what needed to be done? Because to me, the job always comes first.

  “Hate to ask, but can you help wrap this hand? I can’t quite get it. Never could. Not after wrapping the other.” Rico stood like a snake ready to strike. Troy needed to remember that his friend had been replaced by a dedicated soldier hellbent on protecting Marshall from the world. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, but it also wasn’t the best. Not to land him here.

  “No problem. You ready to do some combinations?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Troy smirked. “Follow the combo I gave you earlier. Come on, soldier. I said to use a right jab not an upper-cut.” Troy raised his voice at Rico, receiving a middle finger. But Rico landed the combination correctly on the training bag.

  It bothered Troy that Rico hadn’t acted out, made a move, done anything but what he’d asked in the week since the two of them had been locked in at the complex. With only Sugar and Hornet being Rico’s touch to the outside world, everything inside of him screamed that the shit was about to hit the fan and no matter how well he prepared for it, Rico was going to smell like he’d been rolling in it for days. But wasn’t that the truth of it though?

  Hadn’t he been rolling in it for years? Ever since Rico was forced to stand by and do nothing, per orders, while friendlies beat and brutalized children in Afghanistan and Syria. No matter how hard minded Troy became, he would never forget or forgive. Yeah it only added to his own issues, but what the hell. What was a few more to the already too tall stack of pain he dealt with daily? If he could help Rico rid himself of the survivor’s guilt,
he would. It was also why those motherf’ers added their names to his list. Now he’d go out of his way to make their lives a living hell. Payback’s a bitch.

  With his mind focused on what he knew about Rico, Troy didn’t spot the fist headed for his jaw until it was too late.

  Rico’s flesh connected with the center of Troy’s jaw, snapping his head back and to the side. Troy recovered quickly though, his years of training kicked in, allowing him to use Rico’s momentum to spin his own body while bringing his elbow up into Rico’s armpit. He then slipped his right arm under Rico’s and around his throat. Troy brought his left arm up and grabbed hold of Rico’s left wrist before he could use it to land another punch.

  “Motherfucker! Let me the fuck out of here. I didn’t ask to be here! I sure as hell didn’t ask for a fucking babysitter and I sure as hell do not need you of all people trying to tell me how the fuck to live my life.” Rico shouted as best as he could in the hold Troy held him in.

  “How do you want to live it?” Troy asked.

  “What?”

  “It’s a simple question. How do you want to live your life? Cause right now I see an angry, spiteful, scared soldier wanting to beat the shit out of me for helping him.”

  Rico tried stomping Troy’s foot, but he’d already adjusted his stance to avoid getting kicked and trampled.

  “I want to fucking bash your head into the fucking wall!” Pain laced the words spewing from Rico’s lips. “If you hadn’t left,” Rico managed to get his arm loose and landed a punch to Tee’s side and stomach. Fuck! “If you hadn’t left, I never would have been there.”

  “If you want to blame me, fine. Maybe it is my fault. If you want to fight the rest of your life, you won’t live long,” Troy’s deep bass rumbled against his ear. “Then what will your mama do?”

  “Don’t you fucking dare mention my mama,” Rico lost some of his fight. “What do you know of my mama? She treated you like a son and what the fuck did you do? Did you write to her? Send her a card? A letter and let her know you were okay? No. Fuck no. She got one or two letters and then nothing. She thought you were dead. Don’t you dare stand there and tell me what my mama would think and feel. She’s already lost one son.”