A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (44 page)

Aidan sighed. "
You
obviously do. So fine. Let's talk," he said with a bite of anger in his tone. He grabbed another grape and chewed on it, his face now devoid of any emotion. "You want to talk about how they shoved a fucking club up my ass and made me bleed like a stuck pig to punish me for trying to escape, how they tried to break me, fine, let's talk about that."

It took every ounce of energy to control the instinctive wince at Aidan's harsh words, but he couldn't risk his reaction being misinterpreted as a rejection. He remained still, his focus not wavering from Aidan's piercing stare.

"You wanted to talk about it. C'mon. Let's talk."

He might not be able to read all of Aidan's moods, but he did know how Aidan used his anger to distance himself—from the conversation, from what had happened, and from him. He shook his head, not understanding why Aidan continued punishing himself. "Why do you hate yourself so much?"

Aidan turned away, reaching for a grape in the now empty bowl. He stared at the empty dish, seemingly lost as if he didn't have a clue what to do next.

Jessie took the few steps forward to reach him, stopping when Aidan turned toward him. The pained expression on his face twisted Jessie's stomach and speared his heart. He pulled Aidan's hands and placed them on his waist, forcing Aidan to hold him, refusing to let him distance himself. "Answer my question."

Aidan's grip tightened, twisting the denim of Jessie's jeans in his fists. "Because I couldn't stop it," he finally said in a broken whisper. "Any of it. What they did to them. To me."

"It's not your fault." Jessie reached up and stroked his fingers gently through Aidan's hair. "There's nothing you could have done. You think you didn't fight for yourself? For them? Bullshit. You fought every damn day to stay alive. You all did."

Aidan quieted, the only sound the harsh puff of each breath. "How…" He trailed off, his eyebrows twitching as if battling with a thought.

"Ask me anything. Don't worry about how it sounds."

Aidan swallowed heavily and tugged Jessie a little closer. "How do you forget and not let all that stuff bother you?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. I can't forget it. It's always there, and some days, just when everything is fine, something triggers a memory. Those days are the toughest and I hate them. You've seen me when that happens. But there's nothing I can do to change history. What I
can
do is not let it control me." He cupped Aidan's face. "You need to let go of this guilt you're feeling. It's eating away at you. None of this is your fault and you're not a cursed man walking. Your sister, your friend, or the guys you got close to who walked away. The men from your unit and what those monsters did to you. None of that was your fault. It's not a failure or a weakness. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a strong, good man who's a fighter, and nothing those bastards did can ever change that. You can't let it overtake everything in your life. You know why?"

"Why?" Aidan croaked, finally making eye contact.

"Because it gives those memories and monsters power over you, the people in your life, your relationships, and what you do and don't do. And that means they've won."

Aidan grew silent, in that way he did when he absorbed every word in their conversation.

"And I know how you love to win," Jessie said.

The edges of Aidan's mouth slowly twitched upward in a hint of a small smile. He leaned in and brushed his lips against Jessie's. "You've got this all figured out."

Jessie huffed out a quiet laugh. "Far from it. It's taken a lot of therapy to get where I am. I think I may have funded a tropical island for the doctor with my therapy expenses. But I gave you the crash course Vega special."

Aidan chuckled softly.

"Life isn't a fairy tale. And sometimes, it's mean and ugly and filled with horrible things. What matters is how you push through those times so you can enjoy the happy moments."

"I…figured it was payback for something I did."

"You're a good person, Aidan, whether you believe it or not. Your endgame is always to protect those you care about. You can't have good without evil. Otherwise, you wouldn't know the difference when you see it."

Aidan wrapped his arms around Jessie's waist and pulled him flush against his body. He pressed a kiss to the side of Jessie's head and buried his nose in Jessie's hair as he often did. "You're an eternal optimist."

"It's either that, or I risk branding myself as a victim. And I refuse to do that."

"I'm trying. I swear I am," Aidan said, running his fingers up and down Jessie's back.

"I know you are."

Aidan loosened his tight hold and inched back from the embrace. He brushed his thumb along Jessie's jaw, avoiding eye contact. His face pinched and his eyebrows knit together as he battled with a thought. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn't have said that the way I did."

Jessie stared at Aidan in wonder at the openness and vulnerability in his expression—both heartbreaking and beautiful. He fidgeted with the button of Aidan's jeans, needing to look away from the blinding truth in the emotions on display. "Were you hoping I'd walk away after you said that?"

"I'm not sure. But I'm glad you didn't." Aidan cupped Jessie's face, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss. "I'm a difficult son of a bitch sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Aidan's lip twitched. "And stubborn."

"
Very
stubborn," Jessie added with a grin.

"Then you know me well enough to know that I suck at letting things go, but you also know I don't give up. I might not always know what to say or how to say it, but I swear I'm trying. And I need you to know, regardless of some of the stupid shit I say…or don't say, I always want you in my life.
With
me."

Jessie placed his hand over Aidan's. "And I need you to know that I love that difficult, stubborn son of a bitch and I'm not going anywhere. Even when he tries to push me away."

Aidan crushed his mouth against Jessie's and grabbed him by the ass and the back of his head to pull him flush against his body. Jessie fisted his hands in Aidan's hair, holding on for dear life as Aidan ravished his mouth, unmistakably conveying the words he had—and hadn't—spoken with each swipe of his tongue and pull of his lips.

They finally separated from the kiss, gasping each breath between them, still gripping on to each other.

"I love you, Aidan. Every second of every day." He rested his head against Aidan's shoulder and placed his hand against Aidan's chest, closing his eyes when the strong, steady, fast beat pulsed against his palm.
With every breath and heartbeat.

Aidan kissed the top of his head and buried his nose in Jessie's dark hair. "And I promise I'll do everything I can so you never regret that."

Jessie closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath, fighting off the exhaustion numbing his senses. Too much had gone on in too short a period of time. He needed a little break to recharge and find his happy place. After two weeks of intense case prep work and research review with a client, he wanted to shut out the world and veg out on the couch with Aidan. Since their relationship breakthrough almost two weeks before, they hadn't had a full weekend together. And he missed their private time.

He crossed and uncrossed his legs, casually scanning the solid colored walls of the interrogation room, purposely plain, boring, and non-distracting. Detective Reyes had contacted him mid-afternoon, requesting he come by the precinct. No additional details or information. He had thankfully switched off his phone while at the courthouse, wrapping up the final summary points of his findings to a panel of a half dozen lawyers. He certainly didn't need to let his mind wander regarding the reason for the detective's call.

He looked to his left at the one-way mirror, his reflection sharp and clear, but a calming peace settled within knowing Aidan stood on the other side of the glass. He didn't need to see him to know he watched over him; he could feel his presence as if he stood directly behind him.

Detective Reyes entered the room then closed the door behind him. "Thanks for coming in. I'm sorry it took me a few minutes to get in here." He pulled out the chair across from Jessie and sat, placing a folder on the table between them. He looked different from his prior appearances, wearing tactical gear rather than the usual three-piece suit he'd worn during their prior conversations. "Camera's on while I'm in here for documentation in your case."

Jessie's heartbeat picked up its pace. "Have you found him?"

"I'm going to need you to look at some pictures." Reyes reached into the folder and removed several stacks of clipped images. "We found a few men who established a pattern that fit with the information you provided on Michael Johnson. But we need you to look at the photos to see if he's one of these men."

"Okay," Jessie said in the steadiest tone he could fake. A mix of excitement and fear squeezed his chest. Finally, after all this time, maybe the nightmare would end.

Reyes took the first stack and removed the clip, turning them toward Jessie, revealing a series of photos. "Each stack is a different person. I have twenty men I want you to see in this file. I have a few pics of each person because the footage is old, so I wanted to make sure you had at least one image as a clear reference. The angles are odd in some instances, videos are grainy at certain times of the day, and some are with different types of attire. Hopefully one of the images will jog your memory and help you identify him."

"I don't need anything to jog my memory," Jessie absently said, taking the first stack of photos for the first man. He glanced up at the detective, noticing the sudden discomfort. "Sorry, that was…rude."

"No, it wasn't." Reyes's lips thinned and his brows knit together. "I imagine you wouldn't forget his face."

Jessie shook his head. "This isn't him. This man isn't tall enough. Michael's shoulders are broader." He re-clipped the stack of photos for the first man and reached for the next, discarding the second man just as quickly.

"Take your time. We're in no rush."

Jessie rejected the third man and his stack of images, then the fourth. He took the fifth stack, unclipped the photographs, reviewed the first image then flipped to the second photo of the same man.

"Does he look familiar?" Reyes asked, almost sounding surprised.

After reviewing the second, clearer, photo, Jessie eliminated the fifth man and re-clipped his stack of photos. "No. I wasn't comfortable eliminating him based on the first photo because he had a similar build, but the baseball cap obstructed his face. Michael had one of those same hats with that team logo. The second photo was clearer." They continued to review the stacks, Jessie easily discarding each and adding a brief comment regarding the reason for his elimination. Hope began to dim as he neared the end of the pile of suspects. "I'm sorry. I know this must have taken a long time to gather."

"Don't worry about it," Detective Reyes said, subtly shaking his head. "Worth it if we can catch him."

Jessie nodded, moving another man to the discarded pile. "I really do appreciate it." He grabbed the next stack of images and automatically unclipped the stack of photos before glancing at them.

The air froze in his lungs. He stared at the familiar face and profile of the monster he could easily identify from a distance. The slight bend in his nose, the way one eyebrow appeared thicker than the other, and the number of pockmarks in each cheek. Every detail engraved in his mind surfaced. A vivid, full color image of the monster who haunted him rose in his mind in place of the grainy, poor quality surveillance image in front of him. He reached out, hoping to hide the tremble in his hand, and flipped over the first image to see the second photograph. He needed to be sure. The wrath of Calloway and every member of the team would fall upon whatever man he identified. He had to be one-hundred-percent certain.

The pounding of his heart muted all other sounds. He took a few deep breaths, unable to rip his eyes away from the man in the image, staring directly at him—the monster who haunted him far more than he admitted to anyone. He absently flipped the second photo to look at the third image.
Michael
. He couldn't stop himself from reviewing each photograph. An odd and somewhat morbid compulsion, like driving by an accident and not being able to rip your eyes away from the damage. He collected the half dozen images and stacked them neatly, needing to busy himself, hoping to disguise the uncontrollable shaking of his hands. He didn't bother attempting to clip the stack of photos together, working the binder clip would require far too much coordination than his hands could muster at that moment. He turned the stack to face the detective.

Detective Reyes straightened in the chair. "Is that him?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

Jessie nodded and clasped his hands in his lap. "Yes."

Please leave.

Reyes shoved the stacks of photos back in the folder and shot up from his chair. "Now we've officially got a face to go with the evidence we have. We'll catch him."