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I haven’t offered to go on stakeouts in forever. Or at least since Ouray and I got married and adopted Ahiga a few years ago. The start of our relationship had been challenging enough, with him the president of a motorcycle club I was investigating in my role as FBI agent.
After that, I was never eager to be gone too far or too long from my family.
Something my team is well aware of, hence the odd looks they’re sending my way.
“Are you sure?” my boss, Damian Gomez, wants to know.
“Positive.” I know to keep my answer short. Too much elaboration or explanation and it would only fuel the unspoken questions on everyone’s faces. Too many questions might undo my resolve.
I’m done sitting at home waiting.
Ouray
Fuck.
This day is just getting better by the hour.
I watch as Yuma walks into my office, unstable on his feet. It’s fucking two in the afternoon and he’s already drunk off his ass.
The man has always been a little off the beaten path—a bit wild and unpredictable—but since he sustained his injuries last year; he’s been utterly lost. The wounds may have healed but they had a psychological impact on him. At least that’s what our resident psychologist, Trunk, tells me.
Trunk has tried, like I have, to pull Yuma’s head out of his ass. Both gently and forcefully. S
adly neither method netted much, which is why I’m surprised as shit to have him walking in here out of the blue.
“Before you say anything…” He raises his hand to keep me from speaking. “…I finished my last bottle of Jack Daniels this morning.”
I fold my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair. “Until the next one.”
He shakes his head vehemently and then winces, shoving his fingers in his hair. “I mean it.”
“What brought that on?”
He snorts and drops down in the chair across my desk, his gaze drifting out the window. “I’m sick of myself. Momma…she needs…fuck, I don’t even know what she needs, but she’s disappearing in front of my eyes, Nosh is just getting angrier, and I…I drink and hide from it all.”
It’s an accurate description of the past nine or so months. His mother is slipping farther and farther from reality and Nosh is getting more angry with every setback.
“What do you need?”
He seems surprised at my question. “Me? Fuck if I know. Guess layin’ off the juice would be a good place to start.”
The road is paved with good intentions, but I’ve learned sometimes you need a ride. “Talk to Trunk. Find out what your options are, and fuck, brother, follow through ‘cause we need you here.”
I’m not lying. The club sustained some huge hits last year and trying to keep morale up is a goddamn full-time job.
“Am I interrupting?” Luna stands in the doorway, looking from me to Yuma and back.
“No,” he says, jumping up. “Was just about to find Trunk.”
“Just saw him go into the garage.” He staggers out of my office and Luna turns to me, her eyes wide. “Is he hammered?”
“Yup, but he says he wants to quit,” I tell my wife, running a hand through my hair as I get up and round my desk. “Whatcha doin’ here in the middle of the day?”
I snag her around the waist, but instead of sinking into me, she plants her hands on my chest, keeping her distance.
Knew she was pissed this morning when she dropped the dog off, but I thought maybe she got out the wrong side of the bed. Looking into her serious eyes, I’m not so sure.
“I have to leave,” she announces, sending a jolt through my system. The fuck? Suddenly blood is roaring in my ears and I miss her next words. “…Haven’t been in the field for a while, so I took the assignment. Not sure how long, but I—”
