Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) (5 page)

Gage looked back at him. “Seriously, what are you, five? You couldn’t have taken lil’ J for a walk while we were in the woods?”

He grumbled something more under his breath and begrudgingly flicked on the turn signal. Joey was glad he couldn't make out what was said.

The cab jostled as Gage hurriedly drove over the chasm masquerading as a drainage dip. It could have easily knocked out the wheel alignment of any other vehicle, but the GMC was already so far gone that the jolt might have even fixed it. Thankfully the early hours also ensured there were plenty of parking spaces to choose from, so naturally Gage settled in diagonally across several at the front of the store.

“You okay to walk?” asked Adrienne, looking to the back seat. Joey had taken quite a fall earlier.

He nodded as he started to change shirts. “Oh yes. One can always find strength when on a quest for donuts.”

She shook her head. “But these are boxed convenience store donuts, J. You know, basically cardboard. They’re nothing like the ones from Humphries.” It was hard not to let her mind drift on a cloud of sugary splendor. It had been some time since they last ate.

Joey looked as if she had slapped him clean across the face. “Um… So?” He shifted in the seat to take a more studious posture. “Granted all donuts are not created equal, and you have the cake versus yeast debate, and I’m not saying that I wouldn't love the warm, fresh taste of Gage right now.”

His eyes shot open.
What the fuck Joey!

Adrienne blinked and mulled over what she thought she just heard. Her head cocked to one side, to the point it looked broken, and she gave Joey her ‘Oh my God you didn't’ face.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“Greengage plums,” interrupted Gage nonchalantly. “It's one of their best flavors. What's it those fancy reviews say? ‘So complex in taste and texture’. Isn't that right Joey?”

By now Joey was redder than the blood stained shirt he was still entangled in. “Yeah… Yeah it is,” he stuttered, finally getting the soiled shirt off and a clean one on. “I’ll be back in a few. Either of you need anything?” he asked, desperately trying to shift the focus off of himself.

“Nah, I'm good man,” Gage replied.

Adrienne was holding back a massive laugh, taking great pleasure in watching Joey squirm awkwardly. “Teriyaki beef jerky would be great. Oh, and snag me some gum please. I doubt they have greengage plum flavor, but if so, make that priority number one.”

Joey narrowed his eyes, but avoided looking directly at her while darting out of the back seat. He couldn't get into the store fast enough, nearly colliding with the slow-opening automatic doors. If they didn’t know better, it was almost like he hadn't been injured at all.

Both shook their heads as their bottled up laughter finally let loose.

“You know there hasn’t been a plum flavor on the Humphries menu in nearly six months,” stated Adrienne, confirming the count on her fingertips.

“Oh trust me, I know,” said Gage with a chuckle. He turned his attention to his cell phone, the corner of his lips turning down. “That's weird.”

“What is it?”

He showed her the screen, pointing to the upper right corner. It had charged a whopping five percent since they left the coven. “Huh, I guess something is wrong with it. Should've done more than that in a half hour, right?”

“Here, let’s see,” she said, taking his hand and gingerly sliding out the phone. She risked a lingering touch. His skin contradicted his gruff exterior and was invitingly soft, save the fresh scuffs across his knuckles.

He peeked over her way and she pretended to be none the wiser, pulling on the charger. Smiling at him, she inserted it into her phone and all seemed to be well. It chirped and the charge icon popped in as usual.

“We’ll see how it goes with mine. You've always had bad luck with things…” She paused, realizing what she said wasn't necessarily in the best taste, given his history. “...especially with tech,” she added.

“You ain't kidding,” he said as relief fell across her face.

“Sorry for saying that,” she said after a brief pause.

“What, about the bad luck? No worries, gorgeous. We’ve all had our fair share of it. It’s a nasty world out there.” He looked out his window at the stars beyond the store canopy. “Full of teeth, claws, tentacles, and hell, a thousand other hurtful ways of taking anything ya value away.” He looked her way again, now fighting his own thoughts. He definitely cared about this little team of his. They’d become close, like family, over the last year. They kicked ass together and he would stack them up against any of the finest Journeymen still out there. Yet something was dangerously itching for him to want more, to be more, with her. “Surprised it hasn’t gotten worse than it already has,” he continued. “Guess that’s a testament to the job we manage to do.”

“Yup,” she said, her voice a little unsure. “Even so, it’s hard to care about things in this line of work, isn't it?”

Her words betrayed her mind. It was incredibly easy to care for things, like the rugged man beside her. She had been developing more robust feelings, those waters rising during the lull in supernatural activity in recent months. The team was able to get to know each other more personally, day in and day out without the imminent threat of being eaten or worse, hanging overhead. Those emotional floodgates were now exceedingly close to breaching. She looked from his beard down across his right arm, well-lit under the fluorescent lights. It was covered from shoulder to wrist in roses, intricately detailed in black and white shading.

“I've never asked you what your ink actually meant, have I?” she asked.

“No, but you've certainly burned a hole in me staring so many times.”

She bumped his arm. “Whatever, you ass. Like you've never stared at me before.”

“Only that hat you wear all the time, cougar queen.”

Her eyes had to be the strongest part of her body, always getting a workout around him. From the rolling of course, not the gawking. At least that is what she had convinced herself of. “So, going back to this tattoo of yours.”

“The roses,” he said softly. “They were Momma’s favorite flowers. Back during the days I traveled alone, I would close my eyes thinking on the past and I swear I could smell their sweet scent - as if I were standing right there on the front porch of the house we lived in. Silly as it sounds, those nights felt a little less cold because of that. I got this tattoo after a while, as a reminder that Mom is always with me and that I would never have to close my eyes again.”

Something was certainly awakening between the two of them. Gage had never seemed vulnerable before, yet here he sat opening up. Adrienne didn’t know if that was for the better or worse. Regardless, she continued.

“That’s amazing, Gage. My mom nearly killed me when she found out I had a tattoo, even after explaining it had something to do with her.”

Gage quickly perked up. She had ink? How was this so? If he hadn't noticed before, that meant it was hidden, very well hidden.

“I had no idea ya had tattoos, Ady,” he said, not so casually searching her visible skin.

She raised a finger. “Tattoo. Just one.”

“You'll have to show me sometime you rebel, since I showed you mine,” he said, leaving his mouth open with a hint of those perpetually white teeth. “Oh and don’t get Momma wrong. The sentiment is great but if she saw me today, all inked up like a thug, I probably wouldn’t be her favorite son anymore.”

“You have a brother?”

“Nope, only child. I'm her favorite and only,” he stated matter-of-factly.

A little laugh escaped her smile.

“I’m sure she would still care about you, Gage,” Adrienne said faintly as she found a prominent vein which rose above the detailed ink work. With a finger, she traced the ridge across the bloom on his imposing shoulder.

That felt unexpectedly good. He labored to hold his eyes open, but his feelings were amplified with them closed. The artificial glow slipped away, wrapping him in a momentary blanket of nothing but her touch.

The vein road-mapped into his bicep, which she rode without hesitation, detouring along the way to other floral sights across his arm. This was simply incredible, a nurse’s wet dream that was quickly becoming her own. She was soon back on the main highway, riding down into the dense cluster of petals on his forearm.

They laughed again when she reached his wrist, lifting her finger before both fell into a pit of silent stares. Thoughts began to mount as their heartbeats started to climb.

Should I try to kiss him? No. That wouldn’t be right. But if I did, maybe it would feel right…

Why have I never noticed how gorgeous she is? That hair, my God… Those lips… Fuck my life.

Adrienne, would this really work? He’s like a brother to you. But just look at him.

Gage, do you really want to go through with this? You know the life that we live. Love leads to one thing. Pain.

“What is taking him so long?” asked Gage, breaking the hushed exchange that threatened to spill over into action. There was always something he could be impatient about.

She pointed ahead into the store. “That right there. I don't think he'll ever grow up.”

They both watched Joey make beelines up and down the aisles from one delicious junk food delicacy to the next. During his mad dash, he rounded a corner too quickly and knocked over an end cap display, sending assorted flavors of chips flying across the floor.

That sent the portly shop keep trundling over, flamboyantly waving his arms in a fit while Joey haphazardly threw a few items back on the display.

Gage chuckled. “That's what makes him special.”

Joey filled up his bags then reached into his pocket, tossing some cash on the counter. “Keep the change!” he shouted, bounding out of the store and back into the vehicle.

“Good God!” said Adrienne. “Got yourself a bit of a boost?”

“What?” asked Joey, tossing her a bag of beef jerky. He had already demolished a pack of chips, starting in on some cookies. An empty energy drink can made its way into in the plastic bag tied around his wrist. Thankfully for him, a tinny
clang
indicated there were more full ones inside.

“I swear that guy’s wife is a beard,” said Joey, a cookie hanging from his mouth as he rifled through the bag for something to wash it down with.

Adrienne nearly choked, since she agreed.

“You fuckers set?” Gage cut in; bed was calling his name. “Let's roll, and gimme a damn cookie for waiting on your ass.”

Adrienne nabbed a chocolate chip one for him and took a fleeting look down at her cell phone as they set off. The indicator showed that it had already increased fifteen percent. Something was certainly wrong with Gage’s phone, which had since died.

THE PORTLY EUGENE MONTGOMERY
was counting the money left on the store counter, snorting under his breath when the front doors dinged.

Better not be that little prick again,
he thought, having only just cleaned up about half of the mess left by the whirlwind that was Joey Mosley.
Sexy as he is, that boy is a menace.

That’s when a pungent odor stabbed at his piggish nostrils.

“First you trash my store, boy, and now you try to smoke in here? Take those damn matches and your cigarettes outside,” he snapped, looking up with a snarl.

It wasn't Joey.

There, instead of the young man, two uniformed police officers stood in front of him, imposing like statues.

“Oh! My apologies officers,” he said with a tinge of surprise and a frown. The coins in his hand fell through his stubby fingers, dancing noisily on the glass. “I didn’t mean… Crap… I thought you were someone else.”

They said nothing as the shorter officer removed his cap, placing it over the clattery change. His buzzed hair, stocky build and gruff expression weren't putting Eugene at ease one bit. If the guy hadn't been wearing a police uniform, he could just as easily have been there to rob the store.

Eugene peered over to the other man. He stood at least six inches taller and was far ganglier. His expressionless face and cold focus added to the unease that pervaded the room.

“So, can I help you two fine gentle…” his voice trailed off as the doors chimed yet again. Eugene shuffled over and craned his neck to see who was coming in. Sweat had begun beading on his brow and he took a large, salty gulp when he saw who had stepped inside.

A middle aged man with sharp features had waltzed in, his scuffed boots crunching over the array of candy bars and chip bags still strewn on the floor. Dressed in torn skinny jeans, his white wife beater had yellowed from months of accumulated stains. On one wrist he wore a luxury watch, dulled by fictitious gold and on the other a pair of handcuffs dangled loose and free. As he sauntered closer, his steely eyes gazed down a beak-like nose, never leaving the rotund man behind the counter.

Eugene wrenched his eyes away, noticing a large red smear on the man’s chest as he settled in between the two policemen. A smell like natural gas followed.

“Good… evening…” Eugene stammered. “Can I help
any
of you?”