Lukas (This is Our Life Series Book 4) Page 9

Maybe relying on someone isn’t as bad as I think. Perhaps Lukas is the one to pull me out of the darkness and into the light. Stranger things have happened. I find myself questioning, ‘Why not Lukas?’ Truth is, he’s growing on me.

  9

  Lukas

  What defines us as human beings is how well we rise after falling. Laughter is not always a measure of happiness. Sometimes, it’s just a measure of how much you want to hide the pain.

  Right? My fucking mood is rancid as I pound my fists against the solid metal desk. I’m washed out from the insanity currently holding me hostage. Unable to catch a simple scrap of luck in these difficult times. I need answers.

  Figuring out what game Mustaf is playing ranks at number two on the list of importance. Keeping Sage safe, number one.

  And what the fuck is up with this Malik character? Who the hell is he? Where does he fit on the chess board?

  During the summer growing up, I spent time at camp on the lake. The fond memories of chasing lightening bugs, lying under the stars at night while the crickets sang me to sleep fostered my love for the outdoors. Something my parents didn’t allow at home. Not appropriate behavior for a hedge-fund child.

  On a nearby farm, a bunch of us would spend hours during free time watching an old tomcat chasing rats from the fields. It amazed me when he caught them, one hundred percent of the time. I learned from that cat to watch, pounce, then devour.

  The thing is, when you want to catch a rat, you need an old tomcat to help. In the human world, the same rules apply. If I can locate someone who’s been on the inside, with the framework knowledge of the Cabricci family, aka Mustaf’s minions. Someone who understands the workings but maybe didn’t get the whole picture or the entire scoop. All I require is a nugget of information that I can snatch up, assimilate, and I’m off to the races.

  What in the ass?

  Electrochemical pulses fire off, producing synaptic activity in my brain as an idea hits and pushes to the forefront of my prefrontal lobe. Firing off like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  MacGyver was part of the Phantom Prophets for years. He was part of the Cabricci family, even if by proxy. His knowledge of the business could break this case wide open. Mac could supply the small parcel of intelligence needed to take down Mustaf, ending the grueling battle waged years ago. It’s possible he doesn’t even realize it. MacGyver may hold the key to the instability, with just a few simple questions.

  Just like in the game Mindtrap, it’s precision and logic that will rule in the end.

  Determination pulses, radiating an acute sense of purpose to the investigation. Slowly reinstating mental focus to my deteriorating consciousness. I lumber from the room with a purpose in search of MacGyver.

  As I swagger into the great room, the low lighting in the room casts a soft glow on the occupants. Promptly, my psyche searches for the one person who plagues my every waking thought: Sage. Currently, she’s lounging in the burnt-orange plush recliner, crossed feet supported by the foot rest situated beside the couch. Harper and Paul are sitting on the couch, a little too close for my comfort. My Daddy bodyguard radar screaming ‘danger, danger, Will Robison’.

  The B-rated horror movie occupies the flat screen, and my attention lapses for a split second, procuring a cackle at the absurdity it represents.

  An otherwise enthralled Harper screams and scoots closer to Paul’s side. Oh, hell to the no! Not gonna happen on my watch.

  Treading steadily to the couch, I exert my larger body, pushing the two kids in opposite directions, and squeeze between the couple.

  Irritated sighs permeate the living area, and I chuckle mildly under my breath from Harper’s puppy love antics. Glad Oliver’s not here to witness this current situation; he’d have a fucking shit fit.

  “What are we watching, playas?”

  An annoyed Harper replies, “Uh, it’s…I’m really not sure, Uncle Lukas. The Glob or something like that, I think. But it’s crazy scary.”

  “This is an epic quintessential teen classic, my man,” Paul announces as he bumps against my shoulder and smiles a goofy smile.

  Even when he uses big words, it doesn’t take away from the naïvety of his nature. Mac is brilliant, and that’s a major compliment coming from me. Not quite as smart as me, of course, but his brain functions at a higher level than most. We understand each other.

  At the same time, he’s led a rough life for one so young and trusts too easily. A lot like my chicken noodle, Harper. Because of his bristly past, Mac fell victim to the likes of the Cabriccis.

  This shit of touching shoulders with Harper is not kosher. I’m cognizant of the unwanted behavior. After all, I need to be an adult, in spite of the fact I don’t want to be. Better I talk to Mac than Ollie. He’d go totally loco if he were aware of the bumping uglies, or shoulders. Even if it is innocent.

  “You don’t say? The one with a goopy, gloppy horrifying monster?”

  “That’s the one,” Harper emphasizes her words using an airy, nonchalant tone.

  “I know it. Good chick flick,” I interject and wince immediately.

  Dumb ass. Didn’t think about present company.

  “Not in the least, Uncle Luc. I’m peeing in my pants over here. It’s scary to the max,” a nervous Harper adds.

  A hint of something else sounds off in her tone and her dreamy downcast eyes feign innocence on her beautiful, young face. I’m not entirely sure of what it is, but if I were a betting man, like Oliver likes to put it, I’d say our little Miss Chicken Noodle has got the hots for MacGyver.

  Casting a glance in MacGyver’s direction, I whisper, “We need to talk.”

  His glazed expression is paralyzed and horrified, as if he’s been caught with the farmer’s daughter. But, like a good boy, he nods his head in agreement.

  “Hate to break up the party, but Mac and I have work to do, ladies.”

  “No, seriously? Can’t you wait just a few more minutes, Uncle Luc. Until it’s over? The worst part is yet to come,” Harper pleads in a whiny way.

  “No worries, sugar-bug. I’ll hold your hand,” Sage pipes up and puts the foot rest down on the chair, standing to take Paul’s place on the couch.

  The first word she’s spoken since I sauntered into the room. I chance a look in her direction, and the longing that lingers in her gaze teases me to distraction.

  Unfurling my long legs from the couch, I amble toward the hallway. Sage and her luscious body will have to wait. In due time, doc.

  MacGyver in tow, I proceed down the hallway to the office. My instincts pressing hard on me, confirming Mac holds answers to the questions I seek.

  Arriving at Oliver’s office, I tromp through the door. Paul follows, and I slam it shut behind us, securing the door. MacGyver jumps from the sound, his eyes averted, and wrings his hands from the unknown.

  “Have a seat, Paul,” I direct, trudging into the room and then taking a seat at the desk.

  “Whoa, why so formal, bro? What’s going on? If this is about Harper…” MacGyver starts, but I cut him off quick.

  “Not right now, Paul.”

  “But I didn’t do anything, Luc. I would never do anything like that. You know that. You know me, man. And what’s with the Paul stuff?” MacGyver begins.

  “Man, I said not right now. We have more pressing things to worry about.”

  “You’ve got my attention, Lukas. I just want you to know that…”

  MacGyver doesn’t finish his sentence. My rigid body posture and the expressive wild-eyed gleam portrays a madman. The sinister smirk on my face is terrifying. Even the bravest of men have cowered in its wake. MacGyver receives it loud and clear. His tense quizzical expression radiates confusion and surprise.

  “O-Okay, Lu-Luc. What’s going on? Why the scary-as-shit look, man?”

  “Just shut up, fuck nuggets. I have some questions that need to be answered, and you’re the only one left to help answer them.”

  MacGyver stares in horrific understanding as if he c
an read my mind. Even if I do scare the willies out of him.

  Family comes first, and Mac understands the importance. He’s motivated to help. Jeopardizing his newly-found status on the team and in the family isn’t something Mac takes lightly.

  “One step at a time, Paul. First things first. I need to know if you’ve ever heard of someone.”

  “What the fuck, Lukas? What’s this all about?” Paul appeals, curiosity surging from his question.

  The next words from my mouth reap the justification of the harsh interaction.

  “It has to do with the safety of the family, Mac. Listen up. Have you ever heard of a man by the name of Mustaf?”

  MacGyver turns pasty white, his eyes fixed and haunted. Beads of sweat form on his brow, his muscles are taut, and his jaw clenches from the anxiety of the subject.

  “No way? That’s a name no one wants to talk about, or no one wants to cross words with,” Paul reiterates in a highly concerned voice.

  Ta-da.

  “You know the name, or you know Mustaf?” I restate my question, ignoring his concerns.

  “Hell, no. I don’t know the man, but I do know the name. He’s one of those scary things that go thump in the night. You might not ever see him, but you know he’s there. What’s all this about, dude? Why in the hell do you want to know about him?”

  “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room, do you understand?” I warn, his compliance paramount.

  “My lips are sealed. I’m your man, always. I’m with ya, Luc. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Mustaf is responsible for this.” I point to my robotic leg and grimace.

  The memories conjured from the mention of the monster who stole my life subsequently cause a ripple of torture pulsing to my missing limb. I’m going to kill that motherfucker slowly and methodically. He’ll wish it was his leg that goes missing when I finish with him. Shoving it back down into the box I’ve put my rage and anger in, I continue with a story that MacGyver needs to hear.

  “He’s the reason we came home from the war. Keagan, Oliver, Shannon, Cal, and the rest of us. The ones who were left after the attack, that is. We were ambushed. I’m sure you’ve heard bits and pieces.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard some. But if he’s responsible, why is he still walking around? Isn’t there some elite unit in the government or some shit like that who could take him out?” Paul’s confusion is evident.

  We were that team.

  I smother a laugh; Mac’s gullibility always floors me. The fact his difficult start in life hasn’t affected his pure soul.

  “Our mission was a quick in and out to gather intel on him and the workings of the terrorist group. Thing is, Paul, we would’ve been the team to take him down. Something went wrong on the first mission in, there was a snitch or something, not totally sure, man. But the point is, he got away after he destroyed most of our team.” I pause due to the discomfort the memories summon. “We’ve been on his trail ever since. He eludes us at every turn. Has so far, until now. It seems the sick motherfucker is jonesin’ for the Blackwoods.”

  “Serious? What the hell, Luc?”

  MacGyver’s confusion adds to my already mixed-up emotions, and I rub my thumb across the stubble on my chin. I understand his bafflement. We, as in the original team that survived Afghanistan, have kept a tight lid on this. We haven’t mentioned the name Mustaf in quite some time. Even though we all have been working secretly for years, trying to find the monster from the past.

  “Yep. It’s a twat buster, man. I really need this motherfucker to die, Mac. And in order to do that, I require your help. Do you know anything? Anything at all?” I repeat the concern, reminding him of the importance. “Even the most minute detail can be important, Paul. A memory or conversation,” I plead to him, the significance of the intel critical.

  “You know I’d tell you anything, Lukas. I just don’t know much, really,” MacGyver huffs. His irritated tone adds to the truth of his words. Nodding his head, he sighs. “I heard the name, absofuckinglutely. Hell, we all feared it. Still do. He rules with a no-questions-asked sort of fist. You fuck up, Mustaf comes after you. That’s what we were told anyways.”

  Paul stares straight ahead, a far-off hazy gaze. Haunted. Troubled.

  “One of the guys messed up pretty bad on a delivery. He was there with us one day; the next day, they found his body floating in the river, or what was left of it. He’d been tortured beyond recognition, Luc, aside from the alligators chomping on him.” He pauses again, and his eyes reflect the terror he harbors. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he composes himself and recovers. “The only reason we knew it was him was because of the tattoo on his back. The only distinguishing mark able to identify the body.” MacGyver’s frightened tone is genuine.

  “So, Mustaf is part of the Cabricci family?”

  “No, not part of it. He owns them,” MacGyver admits.

  This new nugget detail is perplexing, contradicting what we thought we already knew. Mustaf holds the Cabriccis by the cojones.

  “What would Mustaf want with the Blackwood family?” I ask the last question in pursuit of learning one more piece of data to solve the puzzle.

  “Man, I’ve got no clue. I never heard anything about the Blackwoods, except for Fallyn and Harper. And that was very little.”

  “Thanks, Paul. I appreciate you going down nightmare lane with me,” I finish and shake his hand. I understand how hard it is to think of the past. “We’re gonna need to get on this. I need you to dig up every shit-dick piece of intel you can find. Anything that has to do with Mustaf or the Cabriccis. No matter how insignificant you think it is, save it.”

  “Got it. I’ll be on it like white on rice, or Roxy on computers, or—”

  I halt his ranting with the palm of my hand. “I get it, Paul.”

  “But I’m missing something. What’s going on that we would need to find out more on the Cabriccis and Mustaf, Lukas? I mean, I get why you’ve got the hots for Mustaf, but there’s something missing in this puzzle.” MacGyver is confused.

  “Yeah, there’s more. I just received word from Agent Santiago. And it seems Mustaf or one of his people is stalking Sage. We have to find out why.”

  “Oh, man. Holy shit. That’s not good. Nope, not good. We’ll protect her, man. I’m all over this, Lukas. Just give me some time, and I’ll get everything you need, dude. I promise,” Paul finishes.

  “I know, brother. We’re both into this. I appreciate the giddy-up-and-go attitude. It’s important everyone’s working on it. Plus, I always say two sets of eyes and clicking fingers are better than one. We’ve become a pretty good team, Mac.”

  “Truth. ‘Cause I’m awesome.” He taps his chest, and his mouth splits from ear to ear. Fucking kid. He maintains his previous oath. “Whatever you need. You’ve got it. I won’t let you down, Lukas. Thanks for trusting me.”

  I chuckle from his unfettered response. This is exactly why we brought Paul Gunner onto the team. He’s a brother-in-arms, yet has never served. And it doesn’t make a difference. He’s been to war his whole life. From the beginning, Paul’s strong front aligned with the battle roaring in our backyard. I’m guessing that’s why Keagan took a shine to him in the first place.

  He’s like the little stepbrother you love to hate and can’t help but like. The sidekick in the superhero comics no one credits. The one who digs through the muck and wades through the swamp to execute the task. A vital and significant member in order to get the dirty work done. My protégé, my own personal Mini-Me.

  MacGyver helped to shed light on several issues. Despite that, it’s not enough. His truths have me asking even more questions. The disconnected dots on the game board shifting and advancing, moving closer to completion.

  My insides balloon, knotted and tight. Reminding me of Sage’s part in the conundrum. She knows more than she’s letting on.

  Our week of playing house comes to an end; Sage leaves in the morning. Once gone, it’ll be nearly impossi
ble for me to communicate with her without seeming like a lovesick pup.

  Leaving the study, I wander down the hallway. When my next conscious thought pierces awareness, I’m parked outside Sage’s bedroom. The hour is late, and I’m sure she’s asleep. Extreme savage desire magnetizes my resolve and an urgency to bust down the door, take what’s mine, rushes inside. She drives me crazy.

  But we have unfinished business. So, it’s now or never.

  I ease the doorknob to the right, gently opening the door. The hinges are well oiled and devoid of noise, and I enter the room, quietly shutting the heavy door behind me.

  Taking a few steps in, I let my eyes silently feast on the resting form sprawled on the queen bed. As her chest rises and falls, her breathing is erratic and uneven. A sure sign of unrest. Her eyelids are closed, but the rapid movement beneath indicates Sage is still awake.

  In stealth mode, I pace within reach of the bed. I’m quiet as a church mouse on Sunday morning. Not a board creaks, and I hold my breath, halting at the side of the platform. Crawling up over top of Sage, I lock my legs around her long, sexy body fanned across the silky sheets.

  The moment my legs brush along her legs, Sage startles and her eyes fly open.

  “Shh, princess. It’s just me,” I assure her.

  “What are you doing here, Lukas. Get off me,” Sage mutters as she wiggles back and forth.

  I lock her hands above her head with mine; in this slanted position, my swollen manhood is snug against her belly. The touch ignites a raging fire, reflecting in her dark eyes.

  “It’s time we finished our conversation, doc. You can’t leave without me understanding exactly what’s going on.”

  Sage gazes into my eyes. Her desire blazing, and she jolts beneath me, uprooting all my good intentions.

  Questions and answers melt away as I lean further into her prone body cradling mine, and capture her warm, velvety mouth.

  I’m distracted by the allure.

  I’m trapped in the snare Sage Blackwood has set for me.