Devastate (Havoc Series Stand Alone Book 5) (17 page)

              “No such thing exists,” Tyger denies. “Nice try. I know everything you have on him. I've read the files. Downloaded them and combed them repeatedly.”

              “Funny thing about Jazz.” My eyes fall into her. “You're crafty aren't you darlin'?” The sight of her in so much fear with such a strong expression on her face shatters my heart. This is why Grim gets so fucking crazy over Haven. This right here. This feeling to kill for the person you love more than your next breath. And I will. Make no mistake about that. I will kill him for so much as fucking thinking about hurting her. “Jazz keeps paper files--”

              “That's against regulations.”

              “Shepard likes me,” Jazz plays into it.

              “Even so.” He digs the gun deeper into her temple. “What's that fucking matter to me?”

              “She has added in written notes. Little details she can use against you. And the one on you and The Face,” I whistle out. “It's a doozy.”

              His face twitches and he grunts. “You're lying.”

              “You've got a gun to her head. Ask her.”

              With a violent push of her body into the railing clearly bruising her midsection he growls, “That true?”

              “I don't have to answer you,” she defies him.

              He uses his other hand to wrap around her throat squeezing with a sick smile. I draw my weapon and point it at him, finger on the trigger. “Don't like that?” Tyger growls. “Pull the trigger.” Smiling wider he says, “Risk putting your precious, pathetic excuse for a person in danger. Risk killing her. If you don't kill her, you can guarantee I will.”

              “What's in the file?” The Face appears from the other side of the railing opposite of Tyger.

              “There's nothing in the file.” Tyger insists. “He's bluffing.”

              “Maybe,” The Face coldly looks down at me. His ugly mug we've studied from the minute we checked in our first day. He's just as gruesome face to face with his pale skin, white blonde hair, and jagged scar on his trigger hand. “Maybe not. What's. In. The file?”

              “Who would make a better ultimate super spy to never turn his back on you than your own son?” My lie widens The Face's eyes.

              Immediately Tyger grunts, “That's not fucking true. No way. No fucking way would he do that.” The denial shifts his attention to The Face who's standing there without words. That's the moment I realize my lie wasn't one at all.

              He reaches for his weapon which is when gas starts to fill the upper level causing heavy coughing. Moving quickly out of the way, I take my position as they're forced from the upper level down below to where the smoke isn't settling. Merlin's job of planting enough smoke bombs to force them where we want them works as they come rushing in trying to breathe, both aiming their bullets for me. That's when shots from our side begin to fire as the sprinkler system kicks in, making it even more difficult to see in the slightly dimmed room. As gunshots ring all around, I keep my eyes on Jazz as best I can, tensing at every shot that flies her direction. I know she can hold her own. I know they won't hit her on purpose, but even an accidental shot could do major damage. Damage I couldn't live with.

              Crouched behind the weight set with my gun aimed for Tyger's head, I watch as Grim, our one shot one kill guaranteed sniper fires a shot into the back of The Face's brain like he promised. His body falls, crumbles immediately dragging out a long yell from Tyger who's grip on Jazz loosens for a small enough window of time to take a clean shot. She dodges her body best she can at the moment my first bullet pierces his chest jerking him around for a second before my final shot to his head.

              Limply he falls to the ground, which is when Grim calls out, “Clear!”

              Leaping from around the weight set, I rush to Jazz, who's shaking from her position on the ground. Without a word, I wrap my arms around her, drag her as close to me as I can, and drop my lips to hers, my tongue willing to beg forgiveness much faster than my lips can.  The sound of the sprinklers finally cuts off at the same time she clutches onto my wet shirt. Just as anxious to consume me as I am her, she kisses back roughly. On a heavy groan my body pushes her back, covering her completely, protection first instinct, further apologizing with the rest of my body next.

              Close to us there are muffled voices. Ignoring them, I deepen the kiss, my hand now stroking her cheek gently, the softness of her skin against my callous hand soothing.

              “I'm telling you, shy of a bullet, nothing is going to pry them apart,” Glove's voice stands out.

              At that point the sound of a shot is fired, and my head whips around, body still cloaking Jazz's in case there are other enemies still lingering for attack.

              Thankfully, it's Grim from above, with a scolding look on his face.

              On a light chortle, I pull myself up, and help Jazz to her feet. I know they want an apology, but there's no way in hell I'm saying sorry to anyone other than the one person who deserves to hear it.

              “My office, Jackets,” Shepard commands limping that direction.

              I lock my fingers with Jazz and lead us behind The Director to his office. Inside it's wrecked. Book shelves are turned over. Papers shred. His laptop open actively deleting files. On a groan he points. “Merlin can you stop this?”

              “Probably.” Merlin slinks around to his side, fingers immediately touching keys. “I can also hack into some of the camera feed to double check we don't have any bogies.”

              “Good,” Shepard says before lifting his attention to us. “Jackets...I have to start by saying job well done.”

              Grim and Glove stand at attention, while I do what I can with Jazz's hand still in mine. I thought this job was most important to me. Proving myself worthy. Protecting those who can't protect themselves. Making this country a safer place for everyone. All of that still matters. Still stands true. It's just second to this woman now.

              “Everything you did today to save me...JZ...to protect each other and Merlin was beyond more than any director could ask for from his team. There are no words for what happened here, but know that when I face the briefing with the higher ups you will all stand to be commended and compensated for what you risked today.”

              “Thank you sir,” we state in unison.

              “However.” His eyes move to me. “Given the choices JZ made in this situation as well as what I just witnessed with my own eyes, I can longer keep this team together.”

              None of us object. We knew this would be the consequence. Jazz simply squeezes my hand tighter.

              “It is a choice who leaves.” He states firmly. “JZ or Lordy.”

              “I'll go.” She steps forward before my mouth can even twitch. “I'll relocate.”

              “I knew you would.” Shepard nods.

              “Jazz,” my voice whispers out.

              Sweetly she plants a kiss on my cheek. “Lordy, this is your family. I'm not gonna be the reason it's destroyed. I can recruit new ops. I can start over. I can relocate.”

              Shepard opens his mouth to say something when I cut him off. “Not unless you're doing that as Mrs. Lord.”

              “What?” She scoffs stepping back, green eyes full of bewilderment.

              “If you leave this team, if you leave me, you're leaving as Mrs. Lord.” Jazz's chest puffs prepared to argue with me, I shake my head. “It's either that or I go.”

              Jazz leans around me to look at Grim and Glove. “You two can't possibly support this?”

              Giving them a glance, Grim folds his arms. “I do. I support his choice.”

              “Me too.” Glove mimics Grim's stance.

              Both of them give me a stern nod that they stand by me. Just like I have them.

              Still in disbelief she shrieks, “You can’t be serious! You can’t! This is crazy! This is insane! This is—”

              “Something you couldn’t predict,” I finish her sentence. “But it's what’s happening. I love you and one way or another I'm gonna fucking keep you. How is on you Jazz. You can stay here and I'll go wherever Shepard ships me, or I can stay here and you can go wherever he ships you. But if you're leaving me before I'm leavin' you darlin', you're leavin' with a ring on your finger and my last name attached to you first.”

              “I love you but--”

              “Not buts. And say that again. Right now.”

              She hesitates yet does it anyway. “I love you.”

              “Are you in love with me?”

              “Since the first time I heard that accent roll off your tongue.”

              “Then marry me.”

              Slowly shaking her head she looks at The Director. Not sure what she's expecting him to say, I let my eyes relocate to him too. Shockingly he's smirking. Leaned back in his seat with an impressed expression.

              “You heard the man,” Shepard repeats. “Choice is yours. What do you choose?”

              I try not to smile, but can't help it. Jazz's green eyes start to shimmer even as her face scrunches to fight what she clearly wants as much as I do. Tossing her hands around my neck she lowers her voice to a grumble, “Damn you Jody Eugene...”

              “Does that mean what I think it means?” I whisper back.

              “It does,” her voice coos in return.

              Our lips smash together at the same time my arms cradle her back into me. Back into my life. Back into my heart. Back into my family where she fucking belongs.

Epilogue- 3 years later

              Dropping kisses on the side of her neck makes Jazz giggle. “Will you stop that? You're making it really hard to focus.”

              “You're making it really hard, but you don't hear me complaining,” I joke.

              “Don't make me get the spoon,” she laughs as Ma brings out a pitcher of lemonade.

              “It works every time,” Ma insists placing the pitcher down on the table.

              “Don't take her side,” I fight the situation from my seat on the stair above Jazz. “She's finally given a vacation and what is she doin'?”

              “Oh Rascal's right,” Ma fusses sitting in Pa's old chair. “You put that work away right now.”

              “I just got another promotion--”

              “And it'll still be there tomorrow.” Ma waves a hand at her. “Moments like this won't.” She nudges her head to the field in front of us where Barkley is running around with Bones, Grim and Haven's dog, chasing JD, their three year old son who is blowing bubbles with his toy bubble gun.

              Leaning into my embrace she rests her head against my chest as we smile at the sight. The sound of the screen door shutting behind us alerts us that Haven and Grim are back from their own designated adult time they were sent away for.

              “Thanks for keepin' an eye on JD, Ma,” Haven softly says leaning into Grim's embrace. “It was a pretty walk around all those trees.”

              “Is that what you kids call it nowadays?” She looks up at Haven and motions to the grass in her hair.

              Haven giggles and Grim slightly blushes while Jazz and I laugh.

              “Hey, I'll take another nephew,” I volunteer.

              “Can we get a niece this time?” Jazz teases.

              “Laugh it up you two,” Haven scolds. “But when it's you next, all these jokes are coming back around.”

              Neither of us stop smiling. While it's not a known fact Jazz can't have our children, it is a known fact we've been looking into adoption. The idea of giving a child a safe home who needs one just as thrilling as the idea I once had of Jazz barefoot and pregnant. Her new promotion does require minor travel, but less than when she worked directly for our branch of HORN. She also works from home most of the time making the possibility of growing our family more realistic.

              “Speaking of little Lord's,” Ma calls down to us. “Have you two decided?”

              “Still lookin' into it,” I answer.

              “Well don't make me wait forever. I need more great grandchildren to spoil.” At that point she yells, “JD, Ma made your favorite lemonade!”

              Excited he rushes back the direction of the house.

              “By the way, Glove told us to tell you he's sorry he couldn't make it this time, but he's busy trying to make his grandchildren for you,” Grim relays the message uncomfortably.

              “That's what honeymoons are for.” She smiles brightly picking up JD to put him in her lap. Like a jolt of lightening hit her, she remarks, “Rascal there's mail on your bed that came this afternoon. It was marked urgent.”

              Confused on what it could be, I nudge for Jazz to stand up. She gathers the files she had spread out, and follows me into the house, excusing us for just a moment. Quickly, I rush up the stairs and into the room, not taking the term urgent lightly.

              On the bed is a white envelope, marked first class, urgent from St. Zachariah's hospital. I prepare to open it when Jazz stops me. “Wait.”

              Looking up at my gorgeous wife, who's brown hair is pulled to the side of her face, and thin arms are cradling her latest records to her chest, I cease further movements.

              “Those are your DNA results,” she states firmly. “So before you open them, make sure you really want to.”

              “How do you know--”

              “I had them sent.” After a brief pause she continues, “Inside is a copy of your birth records. Your DNA results. There's also some genetic probabilities inside on diseases that potentially run on both sides of your family.”

              Still befuddled, I merely clutch the envelope tighter. “Why would you send me this information?”

              “We're talking about kids,” she starts. “I figured whether they shared our genetic make up or not, it would be best to know what may effect our health later on. I had mine shipped to the house back home. I concluded that before you started your own family, you probably wanted the one unknown answer about yours.”

              “I already know,” I state strongly. “No matter what is says inside. I'm a Lord.”

              “I know.” She smiles proudly. “Me too.”

              Nervously I twirl the envelope around in my grip. On a low sigh, I tear it open, and pull out the paperwork, DNA test results being the first thing I see. After letting my eyes scan the paper, I read each word carefully wanting the words to be forever imprinted in my mind.

              When I look up, Jazz's grin is stretched from ear to ear. She already knew. She's always known. Just like Pa. He didn't have to wait for blood to be matched against blood to know that I was a Lord. He knew it in his gut. He felt it in his soul, the same way my child will someday, because family isn't all about the chromosomes that match. It's about the choices you make in the way you treat one another. The bond that's formed. The unity that comes from willingness to sacrifice anything for them. The love that's created and spread down generation after generation. And I'll do right by the next line of family. To be good to nieces and nephews that come from all of my brothers. To be good to my own children. I'll make Pa proud that I not only share the blood of a Lord, but the heart of one. too.