Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis

Chapter 10

It was Tuesday morning, and Slate was taking in some indoor target practice at Ember’s gun range. Usually, he practiced daily with the guys at Hellforce and today, he was missing his brothers. He was getting up the nerve to bite the bullet and call King. He was still pissed and thought King was wrong which had him hesitating to make the call. If given the chance to redo the situation, he’d still make the choice of protecting Ember over his job, but he’d come up with a plan, a way to still keep watch over Ember and also return to the team—that is, if King would have him back. That was question number one. And, question number two—would King be willing to allow Slate’s plan?

If King would even talk to him.

At the moment, Ember was in the office having lunch with Maven. It’d been two weeks since she’d been back to the range. He knew returning was hard for her, but it wasn't as bad as he’d imagined. Being back to work, keeping herself busy, kept her mind busy as well. She’d had a few flashbacks, which was the thing that concerned Slate the most, but it wasn’t unexpected. It was more frustrating for her. She said Bazwar was a feeling of déjà vu. The haunting look in his eyes was something she couldn't explain. She knew those eyes.

Slate entered Ember’s office when his phone rang. King’s name came across the display and he hesitated to answer. He paused. He wasn’t mad at King; he was upset. The fact that King thought he couldn’t separate his heart from his head showed how little faith King had in him.

If anyone knew that your heart could mess up an objective, it was King. He knew firsthand that a heart needed to take a backseat when the one you love was in danger, but he went rogue when it was his love, Mary, who was on the line. Telling Slate he wasn’t able to compartmentalize was a slap in the face. King was a hypocrite.

King knew Ember was Slate’s, though not in the official manner, but he knew, so putting her safety in someone else's hands was never going to sit well with Slate, and King knew it. Yes, his heart may be in the game, but his head was leading one-hundred percent. His mind led before his heart. It always would. He was hyper-vigilant and would squash any threats that dared to make themselves known. With King sidelining him, the bond of trust was broken. A team didn't work without teamwork, and the number one virtue was trusting the men around you. King didn’t trust him, so he walked. It was not a hot-headed decision. It was a rational one. His mind and gut told him Ember was in danger.

If orders had come from Ranger Matthews, then Slate would have taken it up with him and his team would’ve had his back. He would have found a way to skirt along the boundaries while not interfering with the investigation. Matthews would know; no matter what orders, Hellforce wouldn't lie docile. Matthews knew from King and Mary’s case that fact was true. Hellforce would walk through fire to rescue one that was theirs. But, the decision to sideline him didn’t come from Matthews, it came from King. So, again, King was the hypocrite.

“You going to answer that, or are you ghosting your pimp?” Maven was her normal snarky self. He shot her a mocking glare and Maven rolled her eyes. “Answer it and make a few bucks.” Maven laughed at her own joke and Ember giggled at her friend’s banter.

Slate answered with one word, “King.”

His voice was steady and sure. It’d been a month since he heard from his former boss, and he was curious as to the aspects of the call.

King responded in the deep timber of his voice, “Slate.”

Dead air hung between them; each waited for the other to speak.

“How’s Ember?”

The question caught him off guard. King probably knew how she was doing. Hell, Slate was certain of that. King knew just about everything that was happening around him and with his men. He probably even knew what Ember had for lunch. It was scary how intuitive he was, and how he got his knowledge and information, Slate didn’t want to know. It would be one of those If I told you, I’d have to kill you type of scenarios.

The fact that Ember was King’s first concern softened his demeanor. “As well as can be expected.” Slate kept his reply short. He didn’t want to spend this call chatting, he wanted to know why King was calling.

“That’s good.” King wasn’t chatty either.

The tension was thick on both sides. Neither had animosity, but both felt jilted.

“I need to talk to you.”

“We need to talk.”

Both men spoke at the same time.

Again, silence hung on the line.

“King.” Slate paused. “I’d like to come to the office and hash some things out.”

King was silent. Slate hoped he was considering the meeting rather than thinking of a way to tell him to go to hell.

“I’m free this afternoon.”

“An hour?”

“Sounds good.”

“Approval at the security desk, so I can get a visitor’s pass?”

“Never a visitor, Slate. Door’s always open to family.”

King's words had Slate letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It also gave him a glimmer of hope that King would hear him out and consider his proposal.

* * *

Walking into Hellforce after a month felt like coming home. Just like a vacation, leaving was nice but coming home was always comforting. Protecting Ember wasn’t what Slate considered a vacation by any stretch of the imagination. It was far from relaxing. The opposite, in fact—hypervigilance was far from calming or relaxing.

Slate showed up a bit early but didn’t go to King’s office right away. He walked into the ready room where the cages were located. Slate stopped still in the doorway. Seeing his cage empty put a pit into his stomach. Cy had cleaned it out for him after the fallout. Slate had never seen it empty and the finality of his decision hit home. He was no longer part of the team.

But, it wasn’t seeing his empty cage that brought that feeling into reality and his stomach roll. It was the cage at the far end of the room that dropped the floor out from under him. The cage that previously held backup and extra supplies was now filled and organized like the rest of the cages.

The new guy. Slate’s replacement. He swallowed hard. Anger flushed through him, not at the new guy, but at the fact that he was replaceable. Cy told him King was considering new prospects to join the team, but Slate thought King would at least wait until his body was cold before burying him and bringing in the new guy.

But in reality, Slate knew missions didn’t wait. A full team had to be at the ready. The safety of each brother was taken up by the guy who had his six. Each man for himself didn’t work on a team. No, Slate knew they needed a six-man team. Each brought their own specialty to the group and all the cogs had to mesh for a mission to execute and succeed. But, the sight of his brother’s new teammate hammered the final nail in the coffin of his new-found reality.

Slate was now just Eli.

“Good to see you, brother.”

Slate turned to see Cypher enter the room. A smile crossed his face as the two gave each other a fist bump and a side armed man hug.

Cy patted him on the back, “How’s Ember? She here too?”

Hearing Ember was on his best friend’s mind was a comfort. Whether he was on the team or not, didn’t matter, his brothers would always have his back and the backs of those they loved.

“She’s doing well. She’s back at the range.”

“Protection?”

“Pops is there and Maven the hellcat is with her, too. That woman would make any terrorist turn and run.”

Both laughed. Cypher knew of Maven’s fierce attitude, and knew no one would want to go toe-to-toe with her. She was barely over five feet tall but was a force to be reckoned with.

“She lookin’ for a job?” Cypher joked and then his joke hit home.

Both men fell silent, both feeling the awkwardness of the fact that Hellforce would fill any position needed, including Slate’s.

“Sorry, man,” Cy said with sincerity. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, no...that’s fine. I know you didn’t.”

Slate motioned to the newly occupied cage at the end of the row. “New guy.” It was a statement rather than a question.

Cy followed his direction and looked at the cage. “Yeah, name’s Creed.”

“Good guy?”

“Pretty decent. Takes orders, follows without question. Takes command if needed.”

Slate donned a stiffened smile.

“I can hate him if you need?” Cypher gave a half-laugh to quell the anxiety in the air.

“Naw.” Slate rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe just slight him a little.” He laughed knowing Cy would have his back if he asked his friend to disavow the newbie.

“Creed’s on loan from Zion.”

Both Hellforce and Zion had backed each other when needing manpower. But, Slate wasn’t familiar with Creed, his replacement.

Slate looked around the room, “How’d the last mission go?”

Concern crossed Cypher’s face and he hung his head, shaking it in memory. Drawing in a deep breath, his gaze came to Slate’s. “T-BAR…”

The sound of his name must’ve summoned his teammate. T rounded the corner and entered the room. Slate’s breath hitched at the sight of him. His eyes met his friend’s eyes, or at least, his friend’s eye.

T-BAR was now missing an eye.

He wore a black patch over his left eye that, in all honesty, made the six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirty pound man look lethal; more badass than usual. But, he was sure optics weren’t of T’s concern. Slate’s eyes immediately went to the eyepatch but didn’t miss the six-inch gash across his bicep. Luckily, his right bicep wasn’t inked. Slate knew T was waiting to get a new piece eventually, but the pink scar against his tanned flesh was unmistakable. And, he also didn’t miss the jagged, shiny scar down the left side of his neck.

“What the fuck?” Slate glanced from T over to Cy, and then back to T, waiting for an explanation.

T-BAR focused on Slate. Side-stepping him, he headed towards his cage.

Slate again looked at Cy. Cy shot him a don’t go there look and shook his head slightly.

Slate disregarded the warning and stormed over to T who busied himself, paying no attention to his former teammate.

“What the fuck, man? What happened to you?” Slate knew the guys got busted up on missions. It was collateral damage of the job. But T looked bad. For him to have three substantial wounds, at least three Slate could see, told him that a scuffle had taken place on his own.

T didn’t acknowledge his friend.

Slate stepped into the cage, keeping a distance from him but blocking the entrance, forcing T to confront him. T-BAR stood. The man was like a brick shithouse. Every inch of the man was toned and bulk muscle.

“Step aside.” The two words were lethal.

Slate ignored him.

T-BAR hardened his stare. Even with one eye the man looked deadly.

“T, straight up.” Slate stood his ground. He wasn’t going to move. He’d have to be moved if T wanted to pass, a feat he knew wouldn’t make T break a sweat. Again he asked, “What happened? You're my friend, talk to me.” The honesty in his plea made T answer.

“You didn’t have my back.”

Ice went through Slate. He and T were usually paired on missions. Though everyone on the team watched out for one another, T and Slate teamed together.

Slate didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. The bluntness in T’s statement hit him in the gut, knocking the voice out of him. He opened his mouth, not sure what to say, when T interrupted him.

“Move or be moved.”

Slate blinked a few times, feet rooted in place, weighing his options. He knew he could give T a run for his money. The two sparred together weekly. Even with his injuries, Slate had no doubt T would still be a force to reckon with, but what would it prove? It wouldn’t force T-BAR to talk, so it was futile.

Still staring at his friends, Slate stepped aside, clearing the door.

T didn’t waste a second stalking past him and exiting his cage.

Cy stood by the door to the room’s entrance and didn’t say anything when T exited, charging into the hallway.

Slate’s gaze met Cy’s. Cy’s mouth flattened in a straight line and he shook his head.

Slate knew he’d fucked up.