| |
Lucky?
Thyssen concentrated on the familiar muffled voices that filtered into his unconsciousness. His father. Stavros. Yorgos. Tomas. They all spoke Greek so Lucky must be nearby. They all always spoke Greek when they didn't want others to understand what they were saying.
"Our boy is mixed up with Pavlos' family." Stavros.
"Fucking Hell." His father.
"When was the last time you talked to him, Pavlos I mean?" Yogos.
"Montreal. Maria." His father.
"Jesus Christ." Stavros.
"English please, boys." Lucky. Finally, Lucky. Thyssen's mind relaxed and he tried to open his eyes. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. Bright light needled his iris' forcing him to close back his lids.
"Jesus Christ," Yorgos said in deliberate English.
"Sorry I asked," Lucky mumbled somewhere near his ear. Thyssen inhaled the sweet smell of fresh strawberries. She always smelled fresh from the soap and bath cream she used. He inhaled again and let the scent fill his head.
"Then this is his way of revenge." Stavros again, in Greek.
"Send him to the Bitch. Let her sort him out in Greece." Tomas.
"Boys, English!" Lucky again. He wanted to smile and turned his head toward her voice.
Lucky. He heard his voice in his head but didn't think he'd said anything out loud. His mouth hadn't moved and his tongue was heavy. How long had he been here? His face felt light, like after he'd shave, and he no longer felt his hair around his ears.
"She can protect him. Make peace with Pavlos. Give that jackal something he wants and he'll go away. And the Bitch always has something he wants." Tomas again.
Lucky? Thyssen tried again. He was damp. Everywhere. His raging fever must have broken. He didn't feel hot and cold anymore. Just wiped out tired. "Water?" This time his voice croaked so he knew he spoke out loud.
"You awake, boy?" His father.
Thyssen cracked his eyes open again, this time his stare landed on Iannis' hard face frowning down at him from beneath his beaten-up fisherman's hat. "No," his words scraped over the cracked glass in his throat, at least it felt like cracked glass lodged in there. "Lucky?"
"Just left." His father nodded over his shoulder.
Thyssen blinked at the wobbly door frame, forcing his eyes to make it come into focus. "The baby?"
"Baby?" his father's eyes darkened. "Your son's a kid now, idiot."
Thyssen closed his eyes. Fuck. How did he fuck up his life this bad? He couldn’t have screwed himself anymore if he'd tried. "I'm in trouble."
The image of David Andropoulous, or The Stop, emerged large and dark in Thyssen's mind. The image was the second before Andropoulous turned, smirked at him then fired a round into Thyssen's Kevlar vest. The Stop had caught him sleeping, and like the professional he was and Thyssen used to be, had pounced on the opportunity and injected him with a dose a lead, or at least tried to if not for the vest.
Never let them get ahead. Never let them get into position. Stalk them quietly and kill them quickly. When the hell did he forgot that piece of military code, or stop practicing it? Fuck.
"No shit." Tomas, Stavros, and Yorgos all looked down at him, each one exactly as he remembered them.
"You have Pavlos' brand on you." Stavros pointed at the ship tattoo on his shoulder. "You working for him now?"
Thyssen glanced at his father before he struggled to sit up in the bed.
"You carrying out his contracts?" His father pulled out a cigarette from the crushed pack in his hand and shoved it in his mouth.
Thyssen blinked around the semi-familiar room. It was one of Charlotte's guest rooms. He'd been in it before but she'd changed some of the things. A long time ago, now feeling like a life time, he and Charlotte had fun, making love in every room in this place. He looked at his father. "Yes."
His father spoke around the cigarette. "That ain't why you joined the Navy."
"I know that." Thyssen ran a hand through his hair. Now shorter.
"Don't you dare light that.” Charlotte marched back into the room, her eyes on Iannis.
Thyssen's heart stopped as he watched her glare at his father as she pushed past the other men and plunked down a glass of water and bottle of pills beside him on the table. She stared at him for a long moment, her gray eyes boring into his for an ageless second.
"Lucky, I'm—"
She turned and left the room.
Iannis looked down at him after she slammed the door. "You have a lot to answer for."
"Ya." He stared at the quivering door. She was still beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Every goddamned thing he wanted in life and managed to totally screw up. He held onto his side and shifted on the bed. Vest or not a bullet still fucking hurt. He opened the bottle of pills and shook out a few before he down them with the water.
"Now," Stavros set down a chair beside the bed and nodded to him, "let us hear the story."
His father stood tall and crossed his arms. "Ya, talk."
He wasn't getting out of this. Thyssen let his mind ramble over the pile of shit he'd made of his life over the past three years. He didn't want to explain himself but knew he had to. It was time, though coming clear with his father and 'uncles' would be much easier than facing Charlotte and—he closed his eyes—his son. Could he even call Ian his son? He'd been a deadbeat so far.
For over two years, he'd been on an incredible high over his success in field operations with the SEALs. He'd been golden as a special operations team member. With incredible field stats and a made reputation as a rock-solid soldier, he easily handled the pressures of combat, and the high stress of his team's back to back missions in some of the most dangerous places on the planet. Then, things started to change, stall, and he found himself increasingly frustrated with Navy brass and military politics, that due to global politics and foreign policy constantly had his team in holding patterns for missions.
Hurry up and wait. Five times his team busted their asses to get into a hotspot only to be told to stand down. Anger at having to stand against the enemy with nothing but your dick in your hand turned into resentment which quickly turned into cynicism then apathy. He started not to give a shit. He stopped thinking straight, waivered in decision-making and started second guessing himself.
Eventually burn out rushed in.
The Navy put him on leave and he went home to Charlotte. Disillusioned he questioned her announcement that he was going to be a father.
Thyssen looked out the window, away from the other men in the room, men who always stepped up when he had run and stayed away. He didn't want to tell them the rest of his story. His pussy decline into complete burn out was something that would forever stay between him and the military shrink who, after the month of leave when he had tried to fuck his way out of facing how badly he'd messed up with Charlotte, began a two-year downward spiral in operations that ended him in a mental health discharge from the military.
Unable to face Charlotte, his son, or his father, he washed up totally wrecked on Pavlos Stephanopolous's door.
Thyssen looked at his father, fighting the shame that ate at his gut. "I fucked up."
Iannis dark eyes didn't waver. "Yes, you did."
Thyssen didn't look away though his insides squirmed. He was grown man, a fucking ex-SEAL yet he squirmed beneath his father's unwavering stare. "I have to make it right."
His father looked at the closed door Charlotte had just slammed. "Good luck."
"Ah . . ." Stavros spoke around his cigar. "I want to hear about Stephanopoulos."
Stephanopoulos had been his father's business partner years ago, back in Greece before either of them came to North America. Stephanopoulos carved out a big piece of organized crime territory for himself, as his father built his shipping and trading company. Pavlos and Iannis had been friends and helped each other build their businesses until Maria came between them.
The story with Maria was an old one. Two men loved her. She chose Iannis. A few years into the marriage, Pavlos seduced her. She turned up pregnant. The father could be either man. She died in child birth. Tests were done to confirm Iannis was the father, but the men still vowed to hate each other until their dying day.
Thyssen never doubted that Iannis was his father. They were a biological match for sure, but also had a connection that went deeper, and had been cultivated and nurtured through the years of Iannis raising him alone. There was no other wife for Iannis, just time spent with his son. He had plenty of women, but no other mother for his boy. When Thyssen was in his teen years, Iannis gave him a letter from Maria, written on the day she found out she was pregnant. Thyssen hadn’t remembered the words, only the gist of what she wrote, and the last line which read: No matter who your father turns out to be, they are both superior men, and if you ever find yourself in trouble, I know that you can go to either for help.
Thyssen looked at his father. "I dried out with him, and wanted to help before I left."
"Contracts?" Iannis shook his head.
"Yes. Five."
"That's a hell of a thank you, boy."
"They were pieces of shit. Crooks. Dealers. Gamblers. Two were into him for big money. It was the last one that was different."
"Of course it was," Iannis spat. "Another professional."
"Yes."
"Greek."
"Yes."
"Fucking prick. And you missed."
Thyssen nodded.
"Now he hunts you."
"Yes."
It was a stupid mistake. An arrogant one. The Stop was a professional killer, sent to put a stop to Pavlos' enemy's son, and Thyssen should have seen it coming.