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CHAPTER THREE
Pulling from what could only be described as a deep sleep, the first thought Ace had was how he’d never thought about how loud silence could be. Tuning in, he heard the ticking of machines and the quiet breathing of people around him, and he knew for sure that silence was louder than screams.
He wasn’t alone, which automatically made him tense as he tried to remember where he’d last been. He chose not to open his eyes, giving him time to assess the situation. He had to figure out exactly where he was and who was with him. His head was throbbing—his body aching in unbearable ways—but he couldn’t focus on that right now. First, he had to understand his surroundings. He had to figure out if he was safe or in danger. There always had to be an escape plan in motion.
“Is he waking?”
Ace tensed. He tried not to, but he knew that voice—knew it well. It was his uncle Sherman. Oddly, he felt a strange stinging sensation in his eyes. Irritation flooded him. Ace Armstrong didn’t cry—not ever! He refused to let such a weak emotion fill him. But knowing his family was with him made his fight-or-flight response instantly dim.
The stinging stopped, and he made sure he didn’t move, not so much as his pinkie finger. He concentrated instead on his other senses. He smelled strong antiseptic and heard monitors pinging. He listened beyond the silence, and he could hear voices in the distance, outside the room he was in.
It was a hospital.
He wasn’t in danger. Good. That gave him more time to figure things out. His uncle Sherman was there, and Ace was sure he wasn’t alone. The last thing Ace could remember was an explosion. It had pulled him from his feet and then sent him straight back down to the ground—hard. He tried to assess the damage to his body. It was difficult to do when he was trying so hard not to move.
Wiggling his toes the slightest bit, he wanted to weep in relief that he wasn’t paralyzed. He twitched his fingers and found that his body had many areas of aches and pains, and he might have a cracked rib or two, but other than that, nothing seemed to be broken. Good. That meant he’d be back on his feet again very soon.
But then what? Ace had no idea. The job was done—the job he’d been working on for years. He suddenly had no purpose—and no desire to keep working for the CIA. The only thing the job had given him was isolation. He wasn’t sure where he stood in life, or with his family, but he was tired of being a different man from who he truly was. Not that he knew exactly who he was.
It was time to open his eyes. It was odd how difficult it was for him to do something so simple. But he was afraid to face his uncle, afraid his brothers were going to be there as well. He’d been such a dick to them to keep them safe, and now he wasn’t sure he could turn that switch off.
Ace had long ago learned not to be afraid, though, so he pushed back the feeling of anxiety and slowly opened his eyes to look around the large hospital room. Sherman; his mother, Evelyn; and his three brothers—Coop, Mav, and Nick—were all gazing at him. There was a mixture of emotions inside him at the sight. On one hand, he’d been avoiding them for so long that it was ingrained in him to run—to keep them safe. On the other, he missed them—was glad they were there.
“Good to see you awake,” Sherman said, drawing Ace’s eyes to his favorite uncle.
“How long have I been out?” he asked, surprised by the croaking in his voice. Ace cleared his throat and focused his attention on his brother Cooper. For some reason, he was having a difficult time looking any of them in the eyes. He blamed it on
whatever the hospital was pumping into his system. He assured himself he would be back to normal very soon.
“We got a call late last night. You’ve been out about twelve hours,” Sherman told him. He then frowned as he stared intensely at Ace.
“What?” Ace asked, grateful some strength was coming back to his voice.
“Don’t you think you should have told us you are in the CIA? We’ve been worried about you,” Sherman said. The man had a way of making Ace feel like he was a thirteen-year-old boy again, getting caught behind the family home making out with the caretaker’s daughter.
“My position was classified,” Ace told him.
“We’re family. That trumps everything,” he said.
“We thought you were in some serious trouble,” Nick said, making Ace look in his brother’s direction. “You could have come to us.”
“No, I couldn’t. The case I was working on was dangerous. It could have gotten you all killed,” Ace told him.
“You could have had a safe haven to come home to,” Cooper pointed out. Ace turned but was afraid to see the judgment in his older brother’s eyes. That’s not what he saw. It was almost worse, because Cooper was looking at him with acceptance.
He’d been such an ass for so long, and his brothers were still there for him. Ace didn’t know what to think. He again blamed the damn medication the hospital was giving him.
Pushing the button on his bed, he raised it so he wasn’t in such a vulnerable position. When he was sitting up, he felt the aches and pains in his body, but he was strong enough not to need the crap filtering through his veins. He reached over and ripped the IV out, making Maverick jump from his seat.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Maverick snapped as he grabbed the sheet and held it over Ace’s now dripping arm.
An alarm went off, and a nurse ran into the room, approaching the bed and reaching for him.
“Don’t touch me,” he told her. She froze where she stood and looked around the room. It was filled with large men who must seem pretty dang intimidating. She took a step back.
“What happened?” she asked, moving to his monitors and pushing a few buttons.
“I don’t want this damn IV in my arm. I’m going home,” he yelled.
