Chapter 1

 Hello,

I'm sitting here and staring at a blank page, knowing I should write something. But what? Why I haven't published anything in a long time? Dealing with Mr. B's health crises? The high's and lows of the last couple of years?

I can't promise anything at the moment. Life is too uncertain. What I will do is try and give you a snippet of a story I have in progress. I'll try to give you a snippet every week and see how it goes. Who knows, it might inspire me to finish it.

Unedited !

His grip tightened on the tongs and lifted the slivers of cooked onion before loosening his hold and settling the bunch of buttery tanginess onto the meaty dog snuggled in the bun’s softness. A squeeze of ever-needed ketchup topped the meaty goodness. With quick, efficient, movements, he wrapped the hotdog in foil and handed it to the young woman.

“Thank you.” He smiled and accepted the money before handing back the correct change. “Enjoy and have a great day.”

All the while, Lee Sanchez’s gaze never left the tall blond making his way along the edge of the beach where the park’s trees met the sand. Instincts sharpened by years of undercover police work told him that the two men following Reese and the three guys in the woods, flanking his lover’s every move, were up to no good.

The hair on Lee’s arms rose when the three guys stepped out of the trees and blocked Reese’s way. A knife flashed in the late day sun sending Lee into action. Reese wouldn’t pull out his weapon unless he felt threatened. Lee grabbed his trusty baseball bat and leaped over the hotdog cart.

 

* * * *

 

Reese Palmer schooled his expression to remain indifferent and kept his breathing slow and even. Instincts he didn’t remember, kicked in, from when he was an elite member of a group of experts who rescued people from natural and manmade disasters.  His neck prickled with warnings of danger and muscles tightened in anticipation of reaction. He had become aware of his stalkers, back up the beach after he’d given a homeless kid a couple of hotdogs.

Experience had taught Reese that besides the fear of the unknown, hunger was at the top of the list when someone had nowhere to go. A plastic baggy containing a card with the address of the homeless teen shelter Reese’s friend Arden ran, and enough money for a cab lined the foil wrapper of one dog. He hoped the boy left the streets before the sex traffickers got ahold of him. Over the last few years, Reese’s goal in life had been to help runaways and homeless youth escape the dangers of the street.

If the situation weren’t so tense, Reese would have chuckled at his thoughts and the use of the word, years. After the automobile accident, besides losing his memory, he’d lost any concept of time, numbers and recognition of letters. He had no idea the length of a year. Heck, he only knew a day began when the sun rose and ended when the sun set. Whether those events happened on the same day were still a mystery.

 Movement near his side had Reese slamming to a halt and bending into a defensive crouch. In his hand he held a small knife Lee had given him for protection. By the sneers on the men’s faces standing in front of him, Reese would need the blade if he had any chance of getting out of the situation without serious injuries.

“You’re costing us money, beachman.” The tallest guy flipped open a switchblade. “It’s time for you to find another place to plant your ass. This is our turf.”

“I have nothing to do with your money.” Reese swung around and tried to keep the men from closing in on him. “Leave me alone.”

Reese’s side erupted in fire. As he turned to face the threat, the tall guy lashed out and his knife slashed across Reese’s belly. A jab to his ribs knocked Reese sideways. A body smashed into him, sending him to the ground.

“No!”

Lee’s shout sent hope through Reese. He needed help.

The impact of his body hitting the sand knocked Reese’s breath away. The guy on top of him raise his arm and Reese stared up at the sharp silver blade of a large hunting knife.

Reese grabbed the man’s wrist and shoved with all his might to stop the knife from slamming into his chest. The guy’s determination to kill showed in the hate glittering in his eyes and his thinning lips pulled back to show teeth.

His strength waned and his arms started shaking. Pulling air into his lungs became a hardship. Reese knew he’d been stabbed and sliced up. That he felt no pain indicated that he was in trouble.

“You son of a bitch!”

The bat hit the man’s head with a bone crushing force. The telling sound of hard plastic cracking indicated the fracturing of the guy’s skull. The impact threw the man off Reese. Lee turned away. In one motion, he jabbed the bat into the tall guy’s balls and without missing a beat, swung his weapon in a perfect uppercut to the next guy’s jaw. A different man punched Lee on the side of the head. Another man, with a small knife, jabbed Lee in the arm.

Reese tried to rise and help his lover but ended up collapsing onto his side. He looked down to find the lower half of his shirt torn and drenched in blood. More blood soaked a jagged tear in his shirt by his rib cage. The pools of red forming in the sand concerned him. He had nothing to slow the hemorrhaging.

Lee sank to his knees beside Reese. “Please sunshine. Don’t leave me. Help is on the way.”

“Why would I leave you?” Reese wanted to touch Lee’s face, but his arm wouldn’t work. He blinked back the gray trying to cloud his vision. “We need to dance and say goodbye to the sun.”

“Yes, we do, love.” Tears ran down Lee’s cheeks.

Reese watched Lee’s lips forming words. He found it curious that he heard no sounds, and then didn’t care as Lee’s beloved face blurred and faded away.

 

* * * *

Roman Marshall tapped the end of the pen against the pad covering part of his desk, winced, and threw the pen down. He refused to give away his thoughts or feelings through his pen as his superior, Cade Miller, tended to do. All employees of Rescue for Hire knew how serious a situation was by the extent Cade mangled his pen.

As the leader of a team of experts, located in Nevada, who rescued people from natural and man-made disasters, Roman took pride in maintaining control at all times. His men knew they could trust him to remain calm no matter how intense the situation. Today, any semblance of tranquility had sailed out the window in an explosion of deep dread. One of his men was in trouble.

Roman didn’t know who or what had happened, but his sixth sense was screaming and blaring warning bells. He’d already put out a text demanding that his team check in and all had responded. Still, his radar continued to ping out of control.

Cade had confessed to knowing things about his team before they happened. It seemed, that Roman had gained that gift, or maybe curse.

Roman reached for his phone. It was time to call a meeting and see who needed him. Before he touched the device, it began vibrating and ringing. Reese’s name appeared on the small screen. Tension spiked. Even though Reese had left the team over four years ago after a devastating brain injury, he was never far from Roman’s thoughts.

“This is Roman.”

“Reese is dead!”

Roman’s heart dropped and ice incased his soul. “What?”

“Shit. This is Lee Sanchez. Reese was attacked and they took him away.”

“Slow down.” Roman’s grip on the phone tightened. “Tell me what happened and who took Reese.”

“Some guys ganged up on Reese at the beach.” There was a long pause before Lee’s shaking voice returned. “They had to air lift him out of there. No one will tell me where he is or what’s happened to him.”

“Didn’t the police inform you which hospital Reese was being airlifted to while they were taking your statement of the incident?” Things weren’t adding up in Roman’s mind. “The hospital should be getting ahold of Reese’s emergency contact. I’d think that was you.”

“Lately, Reese has been forgetting his wallet.” Lee’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before continuing, “We had a late start this morning and I’m not sure if he remembered to bring it along.”

Reese’s car accident had taken his memories and damaged his brain. Many changes would continue to happen as his brain created new paths to relearn the intricacies of life. Some things would never be relearned.

“What about the police?” Roman kept his tone calm while he pressed for answers. He noted a slur in Lee’s speech.

“I haven’t seen them yet.”

An unsettling idea popped into Roman’s mind. “Lee, where are you.”

“I’m at the…”

“Mr. Sanchaz,” an exasperated voice interrupted Lee. “What do you think you’re doing? You need to relax. You’re about to have surgery.” There was a small pause. “Okay ladies, he’s ready for his ride.”

“Don’t,” Lee yelled. “I need to…”

“Hello,” the voice spoke into the phone. “This is Kelly McDonald. I’m a nurse at Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo, California. Mr. Sanchaz isn’t able to talk right now.”

“Ms. McDonald, can you tell me the nature of Lee’s injuries?” Over the edge of a basinet sitting in the corner of the office, Roman watched the fingers of a tiny hand flex. “Lee contacted me about the incident, and I hope to get there as soon as possible.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse recited the standard reply, “I can’t give out that information.”

Roman had expected the nurse’s answer but had tried anyway. He knew the privacy laws of the country. Revealing a patient’s medical details could result in being fired and licenses revoked. As he decided how he could push the nurse a little to gain any hints of information, he watched the baby kick his little blue sock covered foot sending the basinet into a gentle rock followed by a cute baby grumble. The little one would need attention soon.

On cue, the office door opened and Carson, the husband of Roman’s weapon’s expert, walked into the room and went to the house’s latest foster child.

 “By any chance can you give me the status of the other victim in the incident?” Roman asked. “His name is Reese Palmer.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” again the nurse responded. “That information isn’t available at this hospital.”

Bingo! By the woman’s answer, she had told Roman that Reese wasn’t a patient at Mission Hospital. He now had something to work with. Luckily, he had a team of professionals whose expertise centered on finding people.

Roman thanked the woman, ended the call, and began texting.

“Has something happened to Reese?”

Roman hit the send button on his phone, pressed more buttons, and sent out a muti-person text, before turning his attention to Carson’s quiet question. Concern glistened in the man’s big blue eyes as he chewed on his bottom lip. Roman’s critical opinion of Carson had changed over the years. He would always despise the past intimacy between the small man and his own husband, Jimmy. He knew people had pasts. Hell, he had his own. What mattered was how they chose to live out their lives. Carson’s carpenter skills at keeping Los Héroes in tiptop condition and his affinity to the foster care infants, brought to the hacienda, here invaluable.

“Reese and Lee have been attacked at the beach.” Roman watched Carson’s eyes widen. He knew Reese had helped Carson through the trauma of his torture at the hands of a madman. Reese may have forgotten their closeness, but Carson never would. Roman reassured Carson, “The team and I are going to head over there.”

Carson’s lower lip trembled. “Please, bring him home.”

Many people had begged Roman to find and return their loved ones to them. He always tried to walk the tightrope of never promising something he couldn’t keep without dimming hope of a positive outcome. This time, the answer was clear as glass and easy.

“I will.” Roman made his answer firm and final.

One way or another, Roman would take care of Reese. Whether that meant leaving him to continue to live out his life on the beach, bringing him back to Nevada to heal, or the horrific responsibility of laying him to rest for eternity next to his father.

Another thought niggled at the edge of his brain. As the leader of this team and family, was it time to enact a decision for the good of them all?

Carson held Roman’s gaze for a moment before turning and picking up the baby. Roman admired how Carson managed to handle the child despite the handicap of a weak left arm. Hell, Roman admired the man’s scrappiness. He’d had to overcome sadistic torture, debilitating injures from a plane crash, and Roman’s hostility. The man had endured and in turn, gained Roman’s respect. And maybe, Roman’s husband, Jimmy, had helped guide him to the conclusion that Carson belonged in the Rescue for Hire family.

Roman held back a smirk at the thought of how Jimmy’s temper and sarcasm over the years had led to his hand meeting Jimmy’s delicious ass and the epic sex that followed.

A heavy hand rapped on the office door before the door opened and Isaiah, Roman’s weapons expert walked in. A hint of a smile formed on the tall black man’s face when he spotted his husband.

“Hey, baby.” Isaiah pulled Carson closer and kissed his forehead. “Did you manage to fix that hole in the wall or has the little one taken all your time?”

Carson beamed up at Isaiah. “The hallway is back to normal. Roman watched the baby while I set things right.”

A Social Services agent had called earlier in the week, and Morgan, Roman’s computer expert, had brought home a mistreated little boy. Sometimes a child couldn’t comprehend that being taken to a new place where everyone was a stranger was better than living with an abusive parent. Outbursts of fear and anger were understandable. One of these incidents led to the child hacking at the wall with a hockey stick.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” Isaiah’s gaze stayed locked on Carson and gave the man his entire attention. The big man’s adoration evident.

Carson glance at Roman before looking back at Isaiah. “You need to help Reese. I’ll leave you alone to make your plans.”

The smaller man lifted onto his toes, kissed Isaiah’s mouth, and left the room. Isaiah turned to Roman. His thick eyebrows lowered, and deep lines bracketed his mouth.  

“I take it Reese is why you sent the text.” Isaiah move to his customary chair at the side of Roman’s desk. “What’s going on with the medic?”

Roman leaned back in his desk chair and picked up his pen. He’d texted Isaiah first. The rest of the team would be arriving soon, but he wanted to give his best friend and second in command a heads up on the situation.

“Lee called and managed, before he was rolled into surgery, to tell me that Reese was attacked on the beach,” Roman began relaying what information he had. “Lee didn’t know what hospital Reese was taken to or his condition.”

A long low whistle escaped from between Isaiah’s lips. The man sat back and stared off into the distance. After a moment, he nodded and looked at Roman.

One eyebrow lifted and a ghost of a smile appeared. “Operation find and bring those two home once and for all?”

“My thoughts exactly. Now to get the others on board.”

“The love is there, it’s the hurt feelings that need dealing with.” Isaiah chewed on the inside of his lip for a second before continuing, “Don’t get me wrong. There won’t be any hesitation of the team in the finding and rescuing. The aftermath is where I see the problem. Everyone will want to help him with his recovery. The problem comes in where we’re all protective of our partners and none of us want to expose them to the pain of losing Reese again.”

“You didn’t include Lee in that statement,” Roman pointed out.

Isaiah shrugged one shoulder. “That’s another obstacle. Most resent and blame him for Reese choosing to leave us and live by the beach.”

Roman agreed with Isaiah’s assessment, but there was one other scenario the man hadn’t mentioned.

“Everything is moot if Reese is dead or dies.”

“True.” Isaiah sat up straight. “But we’re not going to let that happen.”

The door swung open and the rest of the team walked in. Following them were their husbands. Garret, the hacienda’s manager, and his husband, Tolliver, and Jimmy’s parents were next to arrive. Carson brought up the rear. His pale face and too bright eyes magnified his worry and fear.

Roman sighed. Time weighed heavy on his shoulders and they needed to get to Reese as soon as possible. Now, he had a room full of concerned people he had chosen to be his family and yet, the most important person was missing.

The thunder of the soles of cowboy boots against tile floors echoed down the hall and Jimmy appeared in the doorway. The smaller man jammed his hands on his hips and glared at Roman.

“What the hell?”