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Story: Legends: Jackson

Jackson knew his friend’s expression as well as he knew his own birthday. Alex was irritated at having his solitary lunch interrupted, even by an old friend, but he was curious enough about the reason behind Jackson’s sudden appearance that he would tolerate the interruption.

Jackson wasted no time. “I need to hire you.”

Alex’s raised brow was the only indication that he heard his old Army buddy. Otherwise, he continued to eat his sandwich as if he was the only one at the table.

“I need to hire all of you.”

This got Alex’s attention. He returned his sandwich to the wax paper-lined basket in the open spot next to his stack of potato chips. Chewing slowly, he fixed a hard stare on his friend.

Alex operated Atlas Security, one of the top security firms in the country. His crew of professionals were highly sought after by celebrities, politicians and anyone with the money to cover their hefty fee. Their services cost a pretty penny, but with their training and experience, the Atlas guys were worth it. Alex employed close to ten professionals, so to hire out his entire crew carried a significant price tag.

Alex’s hands moved to form the signs for “tell me.” Having his vocal cords damaged during his military service, Alex was unable to speak above a whisper, so he’d learned American Sign Language as a means to communicate without using his voice. Those closest to him had learned ASL as well, Jackson being one of them.

“Someone came after English. He’s in the hospital in a coma. Now they’re coming after the people he cares about. It’s been a mess, and it’s brought more attention to us than I’m comfortable with.”

Jackson’s hasty explanation left out a lot of details, but they were in too public a place for him to share everything. He provided enough intel to ensure his friend would agree to help.

“What do you need?” Alex signed.

“Coordinate with hospital security to be English’s protection detail. Run interference with the local LEOs when our investigation puts us on their radar. I need you guys to be our cover while my brothers and I get to the bottom of this.”

“Just your dad?” Alex signed, and Jackson never batted an eye at Alex’s reference. Though Jackson and his brothers never called English that, they all thought of him as their father.

“Well, probably Becky too. Becky Lathan is a family friend. She won’t leave English’s side.”

“Girlfriend?”

Jackson shook his head. “Nah. She wants to be, but English won’t let get to that point. He helped her out a long time ago, and she’s been around ever since. She could be a target, but she’s not going to leave English.”

“What else?”

Jackson wasn’t surprised Alex sensed there was more than he was saying. Alex had a creepy ability to read people, almost like he could see what they were thinking.

“Not here.”

“Why hire all of us?”

“The target shot up the hospital trying to get at us. He’s good, and he has intel on us no one does. I can’t take anything for granted. It may be overkill, but this guy and his hired men are three steps ahead of us. I need someone covering our backs while we go after them.”

Alex nodded. “We’re in. After lunch.”

He picked up his sandwich, effectively dismissing his friend. Jackson smirked, stood, and left the deli. Time to get everyone together to put their plan into play.

Chapter Seven

Acrow perched on the power line outside the hospital window, its inky feathers glinting in the sun. Its beady eyes peered through the pane directly into Reagan’s, and she swore the bird mocked her. Like he knew something she didn’t. Like he was warning her to be prepared because just when she thought her life couldn’t turn any stranger, something else even weirder loomed on the horizon.

A shiver snaked down her spine as the crow flew away.

“I’m sorry.”

Reagan closed her eyes, taking a moment to school her features before she turned to face Becky. The woman clung to her father’s hand as if it was her lifeline, though right now English couldn't be anything to anyone, not while he was relying on the machines and tubes to cling to his life.

His prognosis wasn’t good. That much the doctor could tell her. His one hope rested in a risky procedure to reduce the swelling on his brain, otherwise the pressure could cause a stroke which his battered body would not likely survive. But the risk of him dying on the operating table was strong, as was the possibility he would wake from the procedure with irreparable brain damage.

It was an impossible choice for her to make in the midst of an outside threat to her life and possibly her mother’s.

To make matters worse, the boys only offered her protection out of obligatio. There was clear distrust in their eyes, and she felt the same toward them.