Family Ties

Hi everyone! I hope you're all excited for a new year! I know I'm not! Yeah, I'm a bit of a cynic, but oh well. I just wanted to write a quick note with this chapter. As stated in previous chapters, Jackson is working on a cure for HIV/AIDS. While we are still in the process of working to find a said cure, this chapter address Jackson's research.

This world is entirely fictitious and the chapter talks about Jackson attempting to find a cure and potentially doing so. This isn't to say this could be a potential for the real world (and I know it definitely isn't). This is just based on research I've done for this story. I don't mean to either offend anyone with any ignorance I may be showing or provide false hope. This is just for the story.

I hope you all like this new chapter and I wish you all a Happy New Year

R.A.

Chapter 5

The car pulls up outside the hospital, my door opening as soon as the car comes to a stop. “Welcome back, Mr. Coleman,” Paul, one of the valets, says as I step out.

“Thank you, Paul. Anything new since I last visited?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir. Shall I instruct your driver to your usual spot?”

“Please do. I won’t be too long.”

Paul nods and shuts my door behind me, tapping the roof of the black town car. With that settled, I walk into the front entrance of Coleman Mercy and breathe in the slightly sweet aroma, courtesy of the freshly made cookies from the cooking staff every hour.

Coleman Mercy Hospital has always prided itself on being a warm and welcoming environment, ever since my grandfather opened it nearly a century ago. While we aren’t considered a public hospital, mainly because we don’t get assistance from the government, we do our best to accommodate whoever may come through our doors.

I take in everything as I approach the front desk, from the slightly off white colored walls, to the wooden accents thrown in, to the large glass windows that bring in plenty of sun for patients and others, every inch of the entrance is spick and span, not a touch of dust to be seen anywhere.

Adjusting my tie, I step over to the reception area and rest my hand on the edge of the counter. “Hello, Brenda,” I greet the receptionist.

Brenda looks up from her desktop and smiles up at me, a sweet smile dusted with her slightly rosy cheeks and round nose. She slides her glasses off her nose and lets them hang in front of her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Coleman.”

“Now, Brenda, I thought I asked you to call me Morgan. It would be good for any patients that come in to see the staff addressing the director of Coleman Mercy by their first name.”

“I know. Force of habit. I’ll get better at it soon.”

She continues smiling at me and I return it with my own, finding it impossible to resist her saintly appearance. “Is Chief Eastman available?” I ask.

“He should be. If he isn’t in his office then he’s likely in the observatory. You know how he always likes going there.”

Thanking Brenda, I head for the stairs and begin my slow ascent. Looking over the metal banister, I take in the legacy my family has managed to build over the years. Grandpa would be proud of what this has become, seeing all these happy and smiling patients, watching every doctor and nurse making sure their needs are taken care off and more.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I wander through the atrium of the main building in order to try and find some indication of wherever Walter may be. “Yes, Mrs. Phillips, I know it’s fun, but we don’t want you breaking another ankle now, do we?”

Ah, there he is. Hanging off to the side, I watch as Walter calmly speaks with an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a nurse behind her holding the handles. “It was sitting right there!” the woman says. “What sane person wouldn’t take it for a joyride?”

Walter smiles at the woman before the nurse spins her around and wheels her away. “Never a dull moment, is there?” I ask.

Walter takes notice of me and smiles once again. “You could say that.” He approaches me and holds his hand out. I take it in a firm grip, giving it a couple pumps before releasing it. Walter Eastman is the Chief of Medicine at Coleman Mercy, having been personally hired by me years ago. “Normally you come here on weekends, Morgan. Office too boring?”

“You know that’s never true. I just decided to spend my lunch checking in on things.”

Walter holds his arms out, gesturing to everything around him. “Well, as you can see, everything is business as usual here. I know about a few surgeries today that should be very rudimentary and most of our patients are resting comfortably.”

“As they should be. And the surgeries?”

“Skin graft, removal of a benign tumor, and tonsil removal. Simple procedures my doctors have done many times before.”

“Good to know. I always expect the best from you and you always deliver.”

A small beep comes from Walter’s pager and he checks it for a moment. “You seem to have caught me at a bad time, Morgan. I was doing rounds and checking on some patients. I’m sure you’d want to return to the office.”

“Not at all. I would be more than happy to see how the patients in my hospital are doing.”

Walter leads me down one of the hallways, stopping by each room as we pass to check in on the patients that may be there while I watch from the hallway. As I wait for Walter to finish up with a middle aged man recovering from his broken leg being set, I decide to take a seat to give my feet a bit of a rest.

But no more than a minute after I take a seat on a bench in the hallway, something grazes my leg. Looking down, I see a bright blue ball perched next to my foot. Looking in the direction it came from, I see a young boy, probably no more than four years old, standing there.

The first thing I notice is the IV bag on a stand trailing behind him and connected to his arm and the skullcap on top of his head. He looks from me to the ball by my foot, looking unsure of what to do as he does his best to avoid my eyes. Bending down, I pick up the ball and hold it out to the young boy, doing my best to try and seem friendly by giving him a smile.

But his face doesn’t change as he stares at the ball. A moment later, he grabs his IV stand and turns around, walking away with it in tow while I’m left there holding the ball. “I see you’ve met Daniel.”

Walter is perched in the doorway of the patient’s room, likely having seen everything that had just happened. “Is he okay?” I ask, standing up while still holding on to the ball.

“Brain tumor. He’s been in this hospital for more than three months now while we’ve been keeping a close eye on him.”

Jesus. A brain tumor at four years old? I couldn’t even imagine what that’s like. “Any prognosis?”

“The tumor has gotten smaller because we’ve been hitting it with radiation and chemotherapy. We feel we should be able to operate at some point soon, but we want to make sure he’ll be okay before we try anything. Thankfully he’s been responding well to treatment and things are looking good.”

I nod and look back at the ball, the plastic shining in the fluorescent light. “Oh, I’ll take that,” Walter says, gesturing to the ball. “I’ll give it back to Daniel later.”

“I wonder why he didn’t want it back when I tried to give it to him.”

“Probably because you’re a scary son of a bitch, Morgan.”

Walter takes the ball from me and continues down the hall, me following behind him a moment later. I wish I could have given that boy his toy. He looked like he really needed it. Another beep comes from Walter’s hip as we enter another hallway, followed by a long sigh. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“A patient in our isolation unit. Well, the only patient in the unit. The beep was just a reminder to check in on him.”

He returns his pager to his hip and continues leading me through the hospital. Passing through a set of double doors, Walter stops in front of a window and stares through it. Curious, I look through myself. On the other side of the glass in a completely white room sits a single hospital bed.

While this wouldn’t seem completely out of the ordinary, the bed is completely surrounded by plastic extending from the ceiling to the floor. Several monitors and machines are being fed through the lining of the plastic to a man lying on the bed.

I try to pick up more details of the man himself, but the plastic hinders my efforts. “Jesus,” I whisper to myself, my eyes not shifting from the hospital bed. “What happened to him?”

“Leukemia,” Walter tells me, grabbing a chart that sits underneath the sill of the window. “Late stage two. Patient’s name is David Williams-Grayson and he’s been in the isolation unit for more than two months now.”

Two months in this private hell? I couldn’t even imagine it. “Why the isolation unit?” I ask.

“Chemotherapy and radiation have completely destroyed his immune system. The isolation unit is for his own protection so outside bacteria and viruses don’t hurt him.”

“But isn’t two months too long? Chemotherapy and other treatments should have been helping if he’s being treated so aggressively.”

“It’s necessary when the cancer is incredibly resilient. Mr. Williams-Grayson’s leukemia is one we haven’t experienced before, in that it isn’t responding well. The treatments have managed to stop the spread of the cancer to other parts of the body, but it isn’t doing anything to kill the cancer cells that are already present.”

“So what does that mean?”

Walter returns the chart to its place below the sill, following my gaze to the bedridden man. “It means he’s going through excruciating, constant pain, unable to eat, drink, or walk without some form of assistance, and has to be sedated so he can even get any sort of sleep while we aren’t able to do a goddamn thing about his cancer.”

He takes his fist and bangs it on the windowsill, grabbing the attention of everyone in the hallway for a moment before they all return to their work. The intense anger radiating off his shoulders, causing them to quiver, causes goosebumps to pierce through my flesh. “Hello, Chief Eastman.”

Looking over, a man is standing not very far from me, a work backpack slung over his shoulder. Although he’s dressed in a vest, collared shirt, tie, and slacks, he looks like absolute shit. Clothes look as though they’ve been slept in while he doesn’t look like he’s slept in more than a week.

A greasy sheen covers his forehead and nose, reflecting in the light and helping to accentuate the deep bags underneath his eyes. He looks to be in his mid-forties, maybe a few inches shorter than myself, and would be handsome if he didn’t look like dog shit. My hand instinctively goes for the gun hidden in the back of my pants, worry about this man being a danger causing me to do so. “Nathan,” Walter says, stepping past me. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“My supervisor told me to leave early because I was falling asleep at my desk, told me I was a potential liability.”

Walter walks over to the man and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Everything here is under control, Nathan. You really should get some rest.”

Nathan shakes his head, his gaze going to the floor. “I couldn’t go home without seeing David first. Even for five minutes, I had to see if anything was different.”

Walter nods and gestures to the door. “Face mask and gloves are inside along with your chair. I’m going to need to ask that you be careful today. He had a rough morning.”

Nathan nods before going to the door and slipping inside. Looking through the window, I see him putting on a pair of gloves and mask before placing himself in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. Slowly, I see David shift in his confined bubble, turning over slightly so it looks like he can face Nathan, who gives him the softest of smiles.

Nathan reaches inside his bag and pulls out a tablet, turning it on and showing David a picture on the screen. I can’t make out what it exactly is, but it looks to be some sort of family portrait. “David’s illness has been incredibly hard on his and Nathan’s family,” Walter says. “And not being able to touch or hold your husband when he’s going through something like this? I pray for them every night.”

Wait. Husband? “Those two are…?” I start.

“They’ve been married for more than twenty years. It breaks my heart to see a couple so much in love go through so much hardship.”

David reaches out and places a hand on the plastic barrier, unable to touch his husband. My hand clenches by my side as I pull my gaze away from the window. “I need to get back to the office,” I say to Walter. “Let me know if there’s anything you need for the hospital.”

I don’t give Walter a chance to say anything as I walk away from him and the isolation unit. Returning to the front entrance, Paul immediately walks over to me. “All set, Mr. Coleman?”

“Yes. If you could get my driver I would appreciate it.”

Paul nods and heads off while I take a seat on one of the benches by the curb. I pinch the bridge of my nose, doing my best to settle the noise between my ears. The complete dread in Nathan’s face as he sat with his husband, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, were like a pair of brass knuckles across the jaw.

Jackson. I’ve been doing my best to keep him out of my mind the past few days since Trent has been out of work and isn’t monitoring him. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and go to my photos. Coming across the one I’m looking for, I get a closer look at it.

Jacob is sitting on a park bench with Jackson by his side. Jacob’s face is absolutely covered in ice cream, courtesy of the cone he’s holding, but he’s giving the camera a smile full of baby teeth. Jackson is grinning at the camera himself, a protective arm slung around Jacob’s shoulders as he snaps the photo.

The image of Daniel’s haunted and scared face in the hospital pops into my head for a moment. What if Jacob were to end up like that? What if he did and Jackson wouldn’t know about it? The sound of a car horn pulls me out of my thoughts, my car sitting in front of me. “All set, Mr. Coleman,” Paul says.

Standing up, I reach for my wallet and hand Paul a tip for his help before he opens the door for me. Shutting it and tapping the roof, the car pulls away from the hospital and pulls into the midday Manhattan traffic.

----------------

Returning to my office building, I ride the elevator up to the top floor and step into the lobby. “Welcome back, Mr. Coleman,” Holly, my secretary, says.

“Thank you, Holly. Any calls while I was out?”

“Just one from Trent saying he’ll be back at work tomorrow and one from Pierce saying he’ll be stopping by around 2:00 for a meeting with you.”

Thanking her, I step into my office and shut the door behind me. Looking around, I set my sights on Trent’s desk sitting by the side of the room. I walk over to it and take a seat in front of the two monitors that sit there. Warming up the desktop, I login using my information and try to navigate through the interface.

Jesus, Trent. How the hell do you get through this thing every day? You open up one folder and find dozens upon dozens of other folders in it. Well, I suppose if you give a guy 100 terabytes of storage space he’ll use it to the fullest. Managing the find the live feed for Jackson’s apartment, I pull it up and move it to the second monitor.

Almost immediately, I reach for the phone sitting on the desk, not expecting to see two armed men in Jackson’s apartment. “Holly, get me whatever agents are available to Jackson’s apartment.”

“Situation, sir?”

“Armed men in the apartment. No sign of Jackson. Are there any agents within the vicinity?”

“Closest one I see is about a quarter-mile away. I’ll send him a message to get to the apartment.”

“Thank-“ Looking back at the monitor, I see the two men taking off the covers over their faces, nearly causing me to drop the phone. “Cancel the order.”

“Sir?” Holly says in my ear.

“False alarm. The armed men are just Jackson and a friend of his. Sorry to alarm you.”

Setting the phone back on the receiver, I slink back into Trent’s chair and watch the goings on. Jackson sets the mask covering and strange-looking gun on his coffee table and the man with him, a man who I vaguely remember at some point, goes to Jackson’s fridge.

Pulling up Trent’s facial recognition program, I run it over the live feed from the apartment. Two profiles pop up, one of them being Jackson’s, while the other is a man named Zachary Richmond. Handsome man, I’ll give him that. A very well known fashion model as well, according to the profile.

 Going back to the feed, I see Jackson and Zachary conversing near the kitchen. Getting a better look at both of them, I see they’re both dressed in head to toe in camouflage with several specks of yellow and pink at random points on the outfits. I press my hand to my face, silently chastising myself for not seeing they were both dressed for paintballing.

The door to my office and I see Pierce walking in. “Hey, Dad,” he says, closing the door behind him.

“Son. Is it two already?”

“Yes, sir. On the dot.”

Running a hand through my hair, I fall back in the chair and minimize the programs on Trent’s desktop before standing up. “Sorry about that. I was just-“ Getting a closer look at Pierce, alarm bells start ringing in my head. “Jesus Christ, Pierce. What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” he defensively asks, taking a step back.

Even from here I can see the bags underneath his eyes and deep-set creases around his mouth. His hair looks as though it’s been pulled at dozens of times and his usual polished and styled stubble looks several days past its due, looking overgrown and spotty. “When was the last time you got a decent night’s sleep or showered for more than five minutes?”

He runs a hand over his face, pulling at the bags underneath his eyes. “It’s nothing. Just been working on a few case files and…I forgot to do some stuff.”

Crossing my arms, I lean against Trent’s desk. “When was the last time you went home to see Hillary or Jacob?”

He looks down at his feet, shifting from foot to foot. “Two days ago…”

Goddammit! I try my best not to lash out at my eldest son, knowing he should know better than to stay away from his family. “This is an order,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “You’re going to go home and you’re going to enjoy a quiet evening with your wife and son. I don’t want you back here until tomorrow afternoon after you’ve had a good night’s sleep and don’t like five miles of bad road. Do you understand me?”

His mouth presses into a hard line, my ears practically hearing his teeth grinding together. He glares at me for a moment before turning on his heel and heading for the door, slamming it behind him hard enough to shake the photos on my walls. Releasing the breath I’ve been holding, I return to Trent’s seat and take a moment.

Going back to the camera feed in Jackson’s apartment, I see Zachary leaving the apartment, only to be replaced by that young man I remember seeing a few weeks ago. Cashel was his name I believe? He enters the apartment and walks right up to an awaiting Jackson, who greets him…with a kiss?

My hand clenches by my side and I close the program before shutting down the desktop. Those two are dating. Jackson is in a relationship with…another man. Getting up from the chair, I cross the room to my own desk and take a seat there. My youngest son is gay and dating another man. My oldest is neglecting his family. My middle son is struggling with an anger I’ve never seen come from him before in my life. And my wife can’t stand to be in the same room as me.

When the hell did my life turn into such a shit show?

----------------

“Yeah, my cases really wore me out today, so I think I’m going to head home early,” Cash tells me with an apologetic smile.

While it’s only a little before six, I can tell Cash is tired from his slight slump in his shoulders to him having a bit of trouble keeping his eyes open. “You look really beat. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night? I don’t want you risking hurting your car or yourself.”

“I’m sure I’ll be okay. I’ll blast my AC to keep me awake. I’ll be sure to text you when I get back to my apartment.” He stands up and shrugs back into his suit jacket while I walk to the door with him. “See you tomorrow?”

“I still don’t have a job, so I’ll be here when you get off work.”

Cash looks like he’s about to say something but stops himself at the last second. He leans in and gives my cheek a peck before smiling and heading out. Closing the door behind him, I walk over to my hall closet and grab the small box tucked away in the corner.

Bringing it out to the coffee table, I clear off the few magazines and coasters before opening up the box and setting some of the papers and folders on it. These folders have been sitting in my closet ever since I got them from Katie a few weeks ago. Well, better late than never to get back to work.

Opening up one of the files, I see it’s some details from one of the clinical trials I was trying to get approved. Unfortunately the safety of the trial was the key issue of why it was turned down. It was one of my many attempts at an HIV vaccine that I tested on some lab rats. May they all rest in peace.

The board found the vaccine I had created may have been successful in eradicating the virus itself, but it also caused too much harm to the host’s body. Looking through my other files, many of them play the same tune: some weren’t able to stop the virus, others caused the virus to shift into overdrive, and while a couple did manage to stop the spread of the virus itself, none were able to hold it off forever.

My biggest hurdle that I need to overcome with this is the fact that HIV isn’t a conventional disease, but it’s rather an infection. Vaccines are meant to protect against diseases. But HIV can stay dormant for some time before it causes damage. And since HIV can mutate very easily, there’s no way a single vaccine can stop it.

Stepping away from the files for a moment, I go to one of my other closets and grab my whiteboard, wheeling it into the living room and standing it up by the coffee table. The night is young, so I plan on spending it working.

The hours fly by as I review folder after folder of my experiments, seeing how much of my work has gone up in absolute flames with these tests. I’ve gone through so many options, watching each and every one of them slipping away from me. I need to find a way to stop the virus from multiplying and destroying white blood cells.

And that’s only for the early stages of infection. What about late stage when the virus has already done damage to the body and the person is progressing into AIDS? What I would need to do there is make an entirely different vaccine that freezes the virus in its place and kills it so the body can begin to recover the lost white blood cells, all while doing no further damage to the host.

But the problem is, the chances of finding an absolutely successful vaccine are practically zero. HIV itself is so variable that it could evolve into a different variant entirely that the body isn’t immune to. Pressing my dry erase marker to my lips, I think it over for just a moment.

And then it hits me in a sudden moment. Could that be it? Popping the cap off the marker, I ferociously attack the whiteboard, my thoughts running a mile a minute. What if I can control it? What if I can change it into a form I can kill without hurting the body?

I’ve been going about my research all wrong, trying to find a way to kill the virus that’s there. But why should I play by the virus’ rules when I can try to get it to play my own game? The marker drops from my fingertips after filling the majority of the board. Looking over my work, I figure I’ve got something here to work with. Something worthwhile.

Grabbing my phone, I find Liam’s number and dial it. “Hello…?” comes his mumbled and strained voice.

“Liam, it’s me.”

“Jax? What the hell are you doing calling me at two in the morning?”

Is it really that late? Looking over at my clock on the wall, I see he’s right. “Sorry. But this is urgent?”

“Foot stuck in toilet urgent or life and death urgent?”

“Okay the foot in toilet thing only happened one time and the paramedics at the hospital are still laughing about it.” Liam chuckles over the line. “But this is breakthrough urgent.”

There’s a shuffle on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. There better be coffee when I get there.”

Hanging up, I got the pot of coffee going for a likely very cranky Liam. And exactly ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. Opening it up, I find Liam standing there, dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants looking about ready to punch someone. “I swear to God if this is some kind of two-in-the-morning-make-us-millionaires-thing again, I’m leaving,” he says as I hand him a mug of steaming hot coffee.

“It’s so much more important than that.” I lead him over to my setup and sit him down in front of the whiteboard. “This is me taking control of the game and not letting it make another move.”

Liam sips his coffee as I watch his eyes scan over the board. As he progresses over the board, he takes less and less sips from the mug. He sets his mug down on the coffee table and stares at the board for a moment longer. “There’s something here,” he says, not looking away form the board. “And it’s not going to be easy.”

“It never has been easy. And that’s the risk I’m willing to take to put an end to it.”

Liam stands up and turns to me, his eyes hard and lines surrounding his mouth. “Jax, this could be it. If you’re able to successfully mutate HIV itself and stop it from mutating, you could find the cure.”

“It’s going to take a lot of work and I’m not allowed to have access to a lab. So I’m going to need to find other ways to test this.”

“Maybe you could go to the board and tell them what you’ve found?”

I shake my head. “I don’t trust them as it is. My father was able to convince them to suspend my license to practice. If I go to them with this possibility, they could take it for their own and either mess it up or toss it to the side, forgotten.”

Liam grabs his mug and takes another sip. “So what are you going to do?”

Taking a seat next to Liam, I look over the board. “I have no idea.”

----------------

“Your Honor, we the jury find the defendant not guilty of all charges by reason of self defense.”

“My thanks to the jury,” the judge says. “Case dismissed.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as the judge bangs the gavel and give my defendant a hug. “Thank you,” Ms. Jenkins whispers in my ear.

Knowing the hell she’s gone through in the last few weeks, I return her hug. “You don’t have to worry about that man any longer. Get a fresh start on your life with your children.”

She nods against my shoulder before turning behind her and hugging her two children on the other side of the pew. Stepping over to the other desk, I extend my hand to Mr. Collin. “Hell of a case, Davis,” he says, taking my hand. “You are your father’s son.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry if I got a little too heated there.”

He waves me off. “It just shows your passion, son. I remember when I first went up against your dad all those years ago. Got my ass handed to me then too. Although with this case, I knew I would have lost from the beginning. Hell, I didn’t want that woman going away for protecting her kids from her abusive boyfriend.”

Looking to where he’s looking, I see Ms. Jenkins still hugging her kids. “You were just doing your job,” I say. “And I’m sure Ms. Jenkins and her family understand as well. No hard feelings at all.”

We exchange another handshake before he grabs his briefcase and heads out. Grabbing my own briefcase, I head for the doors and check my phone for messages. “Just getting out?”

Victor is walking toward me, an easy smile on his face. “Case dismissed,” I tell him. “Not guilty on all charges.”

He grins and gives my back a hearty slap that echoes on the marble walls. “You’re on a roll, bro.”

“Two wins doesn’t exactly count as a roll. And the first one ended in the real guilty party admitting he did it.”

“Semantics. Don’t think too much about it. Want to grab a late lunch?”

“Sure, but you choose. I need to send a couple messages while we walk.”

Pulling out my phone, I start firing off emails as Victor leads me in the direction of where we’re eating. Not a far walk later, we walk into a small deli, the smell of fresh baked bread and cured meat filling my nostrils. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

Looking at a table in the far corner, Victor and I spot Dad sitting there, a corned beef sandwich sitting in front of him. “Weird how we always seem to find each other,” I say as we walk over to him.

“It’s the magnets I had implanted in your butts when you both were born,” Dad says with a smile. “They’re always attracted to the metal plate in my head.”

“Are you saying you wanted your kids’ asses coming toward your head?” Victor asks with a raised eyebrow.

Dad rolls his eyes and I chuckle a bit. “Take a seat. I’ll get you both some sandwiches.”

“And a cream soda for me,” I say.

“I’ll second that,” Victor follows up. Dad walks over to the counter while Victor and I grab a couple spare chairs and make ourselves comfortable. “My back is killing me.”

“Tough night last night?”

“I had a job to take care of in Queens and it took a little longer than I had anticipated.”

I glance around us to make sure no one is within earshot. “What kind of job?”

“One of our clients tried to shortchange us a couple weeks ago. He asked for our help with some rival company trying to steal some ideas of his. So I paid him a little visit taught him a lesson.”

“Nothing to cause permanent damage, right?”

“Absolutely. We’re not one of those low level families that hurt people just to hurt them. We hurt to get our point across and to show what happens when people don’t hold up their end of the bargain.”

“So why the back pain?”

Color rises in Victor’s cheeks as he glances at the table. “I missed a step leaving the guy’s house and took a tumble.”

He could have easily come up with some sort of other reason, like the guy tried to put up a fight. But no. My brother slipped while leaving a job. Dad comes back with two wrapped sandwiches and a large bag of chips and sets them in front of me and Victor. “Did you send Victor to do that job last night?” I ask him as he takes his seat.

“Of course. And I only gave him the mission because I knew he was fully capable of it. And all he got out of it was a bruised back.” Dad takes a bite from his sandwich and Victor and I follow his lead. “How’re things with Jackson?”

“So far so good. We’re still taking things a bit slow, but we’re starting to reach a stride. I was thinking about taking him to Wawayanda this weekend for some hiking, bring Saber and Midnight with us so they can get some extra exercise as well.”

“Sounds great,” Victor says, snagging a chip and popping it in his mouth. “How’s his job search coming?”

“I haven’t heard anything huge as of late, but I can tell he’s still sore about his board suspending his license. And it sucks because I know he’s a great doctor.”

Dad gives me a pointed look, an eyebrow quirked. “You did too much digging again, didn’t you?”

“Only so I could get a sense of what kind of work he did.” Grabbing my phone, I open a few files I have tucked away and turn it to face them. “He told me he graduated from medical school at 22. I’ve heard about some doctor graduating early, but not that early.”

Dad and Victor take a look at the files of Jax’s medical school diploma and medical license, seeing they’re both legitimate. “It is a bit strange,” Victor says, handing back my phone. “But maybe he’s just a brilliant doctor who was able to finish school quickly.”

“Or maybe someone was pulling some strings behind the medical curtain,” Dad says.

There’s a moment of silence at the table, the sounds of orders being rung up at the table filling the deli. “There’s no denying his aptitude as a doctor. He has a zero percent mortality rate as a trauma surgeon, so he’s amazing at what he does. And I want to trust him. But something seems a bit fishy. And there’s something else that’s been on my mind for a few weeks now.”

“I have a feeling I know what it is,” Dad says. “The Krakansi job.”

I nod a bit, replying that moment in my head. “Jax took down that man so easily, blew his brains out without even a moment’s hesitation. Only we and some of our most trained employees are capable of doing something like that.”

“It was badass what he did,” Victor says. “And it showed that it wasn’t the first time he’s fired a gun and it definitely wasn’t the first time he’s taken a life.”

Tapping my phone screen again, I slide my phone over to them. “Jax owns two custom guns named Misery and Agony. .50 Desert Eagles and they don’t look cheap.”

Victor lets out a low whistle as he looks at the guns. “These things are a work of art. Hell, my own handgun isn’t this nice. You’ve seen them in action?”

“Only once, and Jax used them like a pro. So we’ve seen he’s used to guns and likely has experience using them on other people.”

“So you’re saying he may have ties to crime?” Dad suggests.

Dread fills my stomach, mixing with bites of my roast beef sandwich. “I honestly don’t know what to think. All I do know is that he’s not your average doctor. Plus his grandfather is as scary as Grandma when she doesn’t get her afternoon tea.”

Victor and Dad both visibly shudder. “You only make that mistake once and you’ll never forget it,” Victor says.

“A pistol when I was your boys’ age too,” Dad says. “My mother is nothing if not intimidating.”

My phone buzzes and I see a text from Jax is on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” I say. Opening the text, I give it a quick read and immediately am concerned.

‘Need to talk ASAP. Personal research project has hit a potential breakthrough and need help. Come by my place when you have time.’

Dad picks up on my change in demeanor. “Something happen?”

Standing up, I take a final bite of my sandwich. “Jax needs some help with something and it seems important. Sorry to dine and dash, but he’s important.”

As if coordinated, Victor and Dad stand up as well. “We’ll come with,” Dad says. “I would also like to speak with Jackson. Plus I have another hour in my lunch break.”

Part of me wants to tell them no, but that’s like trying to keep a hungry lion from a fresh kill. “You’re paying for the taxi then.”

----------------

Pulling up to Jax’s building, I hop out of the taxi with Victor while Dad pays and jogs to catch up as we head inside. Riding up the elevator to Jax’s floor, I lead my dad and brother to his apartment, rapping on the door and waiting patiently. A moment later, the door opens up and Jax pokes his head through. “Hey, c’mon-“

He freezes when he sees that I’m not alone, looking at Dad and Victor for a second before fully opening the door. Getting a better look at him, I see he looks pretty tired, with some small circles under his eyes and his face looking a bit greasy. “Um…good to see you again, sir,” he says to Dad. “You as well, Victor.”

“Hey, Jax,” Victor says with a friendly wave.

“You as well, Jackson,” Dad says. “I apologize for the unexpected visit. I was having lunch with my sons when Cashel got your text and I insisted we come along. I hope that isn’t too much trouble.”

“No! Not at all. Please come in.”

He lets us in and we immediately stop in the entrance. Last time I came here everything was spick and span, barely a hair out of place. Now it looks like a bomb went off in here. Stacks and stacks of paper are strewn about the place, a large whiteboard sits in the center of the living room, several used coffee mugs are scattered on the coffee table, kitchen counter, and dining table, and Shadow looks like he wants to be anywhere else as he looks over the apartment from atop the television stand.

Jax walks over to the coffee table and makes a feeble attempt to clean up some. “Sorry about the mess,” he says. “I’ve been on a bit of a run for the last twenty hours or so.”

Twenty hours? I quickly walk over to Jax. “Are you feeling okay? Not sick or anything?”

I press my hand to his forehead, only finding it a bit sweaty but otherwise perfectly normal. “I’m better than okay,” he says, grabbing a few sheets of paper and looking it over for a second. “I think I may be on the verge of one of the greatest scientific discoveries of the last century.”

Dad and Victor slowly enter the apartment, taking seats on the couch and looking over some papers. “This is the breakthrough you mentioned?” I ask, gesturing to the destruction around us.

“The planning stages, but I think it’s something absolutely worthwhile. And that’s where I wanted to ask for your help.” He leads me to the couch and sits me down with Dad and Victor, who seem equally as baffled as I am. “Cash, you know how the board of medicine suspended my license, right?”

“Very unfairly, I might add. But yes.”

He makes a broad arch with his arm across the whiteboard behind him. “What I have here could potentially save the lives of millions of people across the globe and I don’t have the opportunity to work on it because I can’t get to a lab. And I know about your…family…”

It doesn’t take long to put two and two together. “You want to see if my family can pull some strings to try and get your license reinstated,” Dad says for me.

Jax falters for a moment, looking sheepish in his request. “I know it’s asking a lot, but the potential this could create would mean-“

“I really wish I could help you, Jackson,” Dad says. “But as far as our influence spreads, the New York Board of Medicine is a place where we don’t have any. We have private doctors who are more than capable of handling any affairs we might need, so the board is a place where we’ve never had any reason to try and have a slight hold of.”

Slowly, I see the fight in Jax start to fade, helping to emphasize the exhaustion in his face and body. “So there’s nothing…?” he quietly says.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help you,” Victor says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Where is this going? “What do you mean?” Jax asks.

“Just because you don’t have a license to practice medicine doesn’t mean you can’t research in private,” Victor continues. “While we don’t have any influence on the board, we have many partners who are more than capable of helping with whatever research you may need.”

“But…isn’t that illegal?” Jax asks, taking a seat in one of the available chairs.

“It’s not illegal if people don’t see it,” Dad says. “And we make sure no one sees it. Whatever our doctors need, we make sure they have it. And you would be no different, Jackson. Whatever you would need, we would be more than happy to provide it.”

Jax stares at Dad for a moment before shaking his head. “Sir, what I need is a top of the line research lab with the latest technology in order to assure my research is conducted without fail. I would also need assistants who don’t speak a word of what my research may be to anyone and outside contacts to help me as well.”

“Which we can arrange within a week,” Victor says. “The Dragonis Group has more money and contacts than sometimes even we can keep up with. If you need it, we can provide it.”

I don’t like where this is going. Jax has only met my dad and brother once. And even though he’s my boyfriend, they’ve never been this generous. “Well,” Jax starts, “if you’re offering, then I would be more than happy to accept. Thank you so-“

Dad holds his hand up. “I didn’t say I was finished, Jackson. As I’m sure you know, most arrangements come with some sort of catch. And this one is no different. Since I would be providing you with these resources to work on your supposed breakthrough, I would like something in return.”

“Anything!” Jax says, hopping out of his seat before I can try and stop him.

Dad eases back into his couch and rests his foot on his knee while clasping his hands in front of him. “During the time you’re conducting your research, Jackson, I want you to work for me. More specifically, I want you to work for the Dragonis Group.”