Page 12 of Shane
Shane twisted the man’s name with enough sarcasm to kill a horse. “What do you want from me? Yes, I went to work that morning. I had to! I was a stupid college kid with a fuckin’ funeral to pay for and a two-bit job to make sure it was good enough for… My. Mom!” He stabbed his chest with his thumb. “You think you know everything? You think you lost everything that day? Well, so the fuck did I! Only one death wasn’t enough shit for me to deal with, was it? No! I get to live with three innocent deaths on my head. Three! For the rest of my fucked-up life! I killed three people that day!”
“You didn’t kill your mother—”
Too late, you pompous asshole!!“Shut the fuck up!” Shane roared. “I’m not talking about Mom with you anymore.” He was done. He’d lost his composure and his mind for ever thinking this meeting was the good and right thing to do. If he stayed one more second, he’d either have to fight his way out or he’d break down.
Suddenly, Mark squared off beside Alex.
Great, now he had to fight both of them.Well, bring it on!
But there was no sense explaining that morning to anyone else ever again. Kindness and honor were never their own reward. What a shittin’ lie. Shane licked his dry lips, swallowed hard, and blew out a gut full of regret that would never die.
“This was the stupidest idea ever,” he told the floor. “I thought I could give you closure or” —he shrugged— “something. I never meant to hurt anyone or to cause you more pain. I’m sorry I was in that intersection that morning, and I’m sorry I’m here today. Thanks for…” God, for what? Nothing? Another slap in the face?
“Sit,” Stewart hissed, then to Mark he bit out, “Hire the son of a bitch.”
Before Shane could refuse the nasty offer—because there was no way in hell he’d work for Stewart now—the man stalked out of the office and slammed the door behind him.
Shane sank to his knees then, broken again and so damned tired of the fight. All he’d wanted was to give Stewart some measure of peace. He’d never expected Stewart would forgive him. He shouldn’t. That would’ve been asking too much, and Shane had never expected that. With all his heart, he wished Stewart had beaten the shit out of him.
It couldn’t hurt any worse.
Chapter Five
“Well, that went to shit in a son of a bitchin’ hurry,” Alex snarled as he slammed himself into his office. He was flaming pissed that he’d lost his temper—again! More pissed that he’d all but attacked the young man who’d had guts enough to face him after all these years. Who’d been smart enough to come here for a job, instead of accepting less from anyone else. Who’d had to be one brave son of a bitch to confront the bastard that might hate him, or want to kill him on sight. Requesting this job interview had to have been the gawddamnedest, hardest thing Hayes had ever done in his life. And like the ass he obviously could still be, Alex had rained hell all over the man. Real brave, that. Real stupid was more like it.
Alex slammed his day planner onto his desk, sending it skidding across the polished, slick surface as he circled behind the elegant chunk of marble to the window. He was so angry! Like a crazed lion protecting his kill, he stared over his credenza at the scenery but didn’t see a damned thing. Only the two blonde, blue-eyed sweethearts he’d buried before their time.
The pain of losing them never went away. It couldn’t. Not because he hadn’t tried to let it go and move forward, but because he still and would forever miss his first wife and his oldest daughter. Sara and Abby. God, he still loved them, and he missed them savagely.
Looking up at the ceiling, a roar sprang up from deep in his gut, the need to scream at God and swear and cry and…Son of a bitch!He hadn’t been this out of control in years. But he would not give in to that level of rage again. He refused to backslide or relent. He was not that man, that desperate lovesick fool anymore.
Son of a bitch!Remembering was hard.
Forcing himself to recall the positives in his life, to count them one by one, Alex calmed the cruel side of his nature into restless, uneasy submission. Nothing today was as bleak as it had been back then. Those first years after their deaths had been Hell on Earth. He’d been theWalking Dead,no doubt about that. But he had Kelsey now, and she’d brought a wellspring of quiet wisdom and gentle knowledge into his life. She’d showed him better ways, more logical ways to vent and, ultimately, to heal. He didn’t curse God anymore, and most of the time he wasn’t the ass he used to be.
And Alex didn’t hate Shane Hayes. Never had. Hadn’t even considered it. He’d hated that Sara and Abby had died, sure. But the only person he’d truly blamed and hated for years had been himself. That because he hadn’t been with Sara and Abby when they’d needed him most. A husband and father should never live when his wife and little girl didn’t. Yet even that was a false negative, one of those sucking black holes grieving people often dug themselves into and spent the rest of their lives trying to escape.
Taking another calming breath, Alex rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, staving off the killer migraine he’d come to expect after temper tantrums like this one. Taking another slow, steady breath, then exhaling just as slowly, he did as Kelsey had taught him. It seemed a useless, small thing for a hard-charging man like him to do, but Kelsey was right. Controlling his breathing helped. The red-hot anger dissipated into aching nothingness. The self-incrimination in the center of his chest left like the ghost it had always been.
Hayes should sure as hell hate him, especially now that Alex had shown his true colors. His old true colors. Alex wouldn’t blame Hayes if he did. But he deserved better, and Alex was finally the man Kelsey had always thought he was. God, he adored that woman.
Because of her he wasn’t hateful, mean, or resentful anymore. Couldn’t remember when it happened, but he had really moved on. Didn’t even hate himself like he used to. He’d healed, and he liked who he was today. Well, most days. Not this morning, but…
That was the son of a bitchin’ problem. Alex couldn’t explain why he’d gone off the rails so quickly, or why he’d all but attacked Shane Hayes. For what? It wasn’t as if he’d bragged or rubbed those untimely deaths in Alex’s face. The poor guy hadn’t done anything but confess to murder. Three murders, for the love of God. Three murders he sure as hell hadn’t committed.
Turning away from the scene outside that he wasn’t seeing, Alex took another breath and sank into his chair. Just as quickly, he dug his heels into the carpet and shoved the chair back from his desk. He needed to get a grip, march back into Mark’s office and face Hayes, like a man this time instead of an asshole. The kid deserved respect, not bullying.
Better yet, Alex needed to talk with Hayes, really converse and get him some help. No one should waste the rest of his life stuck in the past, worrying what he should’ve done differently or better. Shane Hayes wasn’t a murderer, and he deserved a second chance. That long-ago morning had simply been a mix of unbearably tragic accidents for everyone involved.
Not just for Alex. Hayes was right; he was still carrying those three deaths. Blaming himself for things that were out of his control. Son of a bitchin’ survivor’s guilt. It never gave a guy a break, but if he let it, it could surely destroy the rest of his life.
Alex ran a hand over his chin. Mark was right. Hayes was a good fit for The TEAM. Just looking at him told Alex all he needed to know. Thickly-muscled up top, but lean through his waist and thighs, Hayes was obviously self-disciplined. A self-starter. He didn’t mind hard work or manual labor. Alex saw his hands. They were callused, the nails chipped, the cuticles ragged. Shane was earnest, honest, tried, and true. A damned good sniper and a man of integrity, according to his after-action reports. That he’d joined the Corps immediately after he’d buried his mother was troublesome, though. Why would any guy follow in the footsteps of the man whose wife and daughter he’d accidentally killed? Alex needed to know.
The hint of whiskey on Shane’s breath worried him, too. He’d gone down that same road to nowhere after Sara’s and Abby’s deaths. Had Shane? Was he a closet alcoholic like Junior Agent Renner Graves had once been? Did he carry a flask everywhere he went? And if he drank, was he a sloppy drunk, or did he know when to say enough? Could he handle his liquor? Was he worth the risk?
Hell, yes. Alex already knew that. Any man brave enough to face him after all these years was precisely who he wanted on his TEAM. And if Shane had a drinking problem, it was none of Alex’s business. The truth would out. If Shane was as smart as Alex knew he was, he’d find a way to handle it himself. That was what men did. They manned up, by hell.
Son of a bitch, Stewart. First impressions count, damn it. On both sides of the fence. And now you proved you’re an out-of-control asshat, while he proved he was a damned good man. What were you thinking?