in your hands

He was no gourmet in the kitchen – Roxxi's birthday and the meal he’d blackmailed out of the Michelin-starred Detective were proof of that. Already Chase had burned his thumb on the dish that he’d pulled from the oven so he could add a little more sauce to the chicken he was heating up and he’d been within a hair’s breadth of slicing the pad of his thumb as he’d chopped through the salad he’d been ordered to make to go along with the chicken.

”Tomatoes, artichokes, olives, romaine ... thin sliced red onion. Extra chunk of finger.” Chase muttered to himself as he brushed off his hand against the apron he’d slung on to avoid the mess he knew was coming and swiped at the screen of his phone. The instructions were clear enough, the offer to prep dinner in advance so Roxxi didn’t have to come straight home from a late meeting and immediately go to work in the kitchen met with simple instructions. As if anything more than toast or a bowl of cereal could be.

Roxxi always cooked like she was trying to feed the five thousand (with something better than fishes and loaves). Even when they’d been apart, the food had kept coming, her love language breaking through the barriers he’d tried to throw up around his battered heart. When he’d moved to Mystic Falls the fridge had been bachelor cop empty – heavy on instant coffee, takeout and pepto (it went down easier cold). After Roxxi had started spending time here that’d changed. Fruit and veggies, bought like he’d ever switch his diet, no longer rotted in the crisper drawer. They were stacked in the fridge, leaving him frowning and confused as he’d pulled them and the chicken out.

There’d been a moment’s hesitation as he’d pulled the chicken thighs out, a couple each or the whole thing? Nah. The whole thing had gone into the pan to brown. Mikey might eat at work, but there was a chance he’d come home hungry too. Lately it’d seemed as though there was always a little more to take with him for lunch. Winter was still in full swing, but maybe that just sent people indoors to eat more. During the summer they were out in the square or in the woods, wanting to bask in the warmth while it lasted. Maybe it was time for Mikey’s boss to start hiring again, get some more help behind the counter.

Chase glanced up at the clock as he heard the rattle of keys in the lock. Too early for Roxxi. He might’ve thought too early for Mikey too, but it was his brother’s voice that called out as the door was closed again. ”Hey. In the kitchen. Just pullin’ together dinner…” Him and Roxxi still seemed to be circling one another, uneasy and looking like they were only in the same room when they had no other choice. It’d change tonight, maybe, if he could make this a family style thing the same way it had been when their parents had finally visited a few weeks back. Little changes that felt like they’d make a huge difference for Mikey after everything that’d happened.

Tossing the few slices of onion he’d actually managed into the bowl, Chase glanced over his shoulder. The smile that’d tugged at his lips died instant, his shoulders going stiff. ”Nemo? That skinny kid from when we were kids? Here? You sure?” With a face like that it could’ve gone two ways, Mikey might not’ve had a clue who the son of a bitch was until he got near him, or he’d seen through those scars and had seen Emiliano’s stray underneath, all twig limbs and big dark eyes. His jaw clenched, his gaze flickering over Mikey like he’d find some sign that Nemo had laid a hand on him – for the last time cause this time he was gonna tear off both of them.

Leave it to one of Emiliano’s kids to run heavier on the mouth than the fists. Nemo had never looked capable of swinging a fist – or of taking a punch – but apparently he could tell stories that were probably meant to try and drive a wedge between the Buckley brothers. ”I told you, I didn’t recognise the guy who attacked me,” Chase muttered hoarsely. Maybe on a normal day he wouldn’t have done, but Nemo had been running his mouth that day too and the verbal clues had helped cement the recognition in his mind.

”He’s a fuckin’ liar,” Chase growled, his gaze snapping back to Mikey’s. ”You think I could do that to his face? You see that shit?” He had and now he’d revealed to Mikey that he’d been fully aware of who was throwing him around like a rag doll that day. Stopping just short of grinding his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, Chase dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. The scent of raw onion burned in his sinuses and prickled in his eyes. ”I didn’t want you near the Agnellis,” Chase admitted finally. ”I wanted to protect you. They’ve fucked up your life enough.” And there’d been that fear there that Mikey’s anger would spill over, putting him in jail for first degree murder this time, even if a piece of shit like Nemo deserved to be stamped out the same way Emiliano did. Cockroaches, every single one of them.

Tagged: ROXANNE BRASCHI * Word Count: 907

Fuck.

Like shrapnel buried within flesh, the Agnellis were a lasting reminder of past pain. Sharp edged, born of violence, they lingered in his, and Mikey’s, just waiting for the moment they could tear at them again. Chase had hoped that by leaving the state, Mikey would have a fresh start. Emiliano could keep his territory, his sons slowly taking over their old man’s criminal empire, and they could live out the next forty or fifty years in peace. Of course, that son of a bitch was never gonna let Mikey go that easily. Bit by bit they would crush his brother, using him to make it happen.

Chase was sure he could still feel the ache radiating up his wrist from the knuckles he’d bruised trying to stop Nemo the day he’d come from him as he wrapped his hand in the apron he wore to wipe off the acrid scent of the onions. He could imagine Nemo hiding in the fucking shadows outside the Diner, stalking Mikey, just waiting for him to have a moment alone so those thin, quivering lips could spit the poison in his brother’s ears and push him to do the one thing guaranteed to put him back in a cell – murdering an Agnelli.

Guilt burned in his gut as he tried to bluff his way around what the son of a bitch had done. Chase rubbed both hands over the apron as he turned around. He frowned at Mikey, shaking his head before he snorted. ”It’s been a long time man. It could’ve been anybody…” Only it hadn’t been. Nemo had lost his shit on the streets again. He’d have asked if anybody else was there, but he didn’t think Nemo would’ve opened his mouth if there had been. Like most rats he scurried away the minute anybody got close.

”He’s an Agnelli, all they fuckin’ do is lie,” Chase spat, sagging back against the counter. They’d done it to tempt Mikey in the first place, then again and again, making sure that there was no way for Mikey to squirm out of a sentence he hadn’t deserved. Nemo wasn’t Emiliano’s by birth, at least he didn’t think he was, but he’d taken after the old man. Lying, trying to twist both of them up again. He should’ve killed him when he had the chance.

His head dipped, his eyes closing for a second as he prayed for an end to all of this. It could’ve happened right there in the street, a bullet smacking between those dark eyes he’d been seeing in his dreams since, that skinny body bouncing as it hit the blacktop. There’d be a black mark on his record, but they’d have called it a good shoot. When law enforcement was attacked, nobody was gonna argue about how it should end. He’d dreamt of that too. Chase could almost see it behind his closed eyelids now. His fists pounding Nemo’s face, glass shattering, glittering as he’d dragged him through it like someone had before. Blood glittering like rubies on the ground, running in rivers over his hands. His heartbeat kicked up a notch in his chest, something close to relief rising up into his throat.

When his eyes snapped open again, they were dark with concern, his entire expression going hard. He needed to do something about it, there was no sitting around waiting, just watching Mikey’s back anymore. ”Giorgia? One of Emiliano’s brats?” The daughters he’d taken in with their mother. There’d been a whole nest of them, probably vipers just like their step father.

”Fuck that!” Straightening up, Chase dragged off the apron, tossing it aside before he started pacing. His gaze ticked to Mikey then away again, moving as restlessly as the rest of them. ”You didn’t start any of it. That son of a bitch Emiliano did. He had his boys recruiting people, they wouldn’t have gone to that store if he hadn’t told them they could. The blood’s on his hands, Mikey, and it’s gonna stay there. You hear me? You’re not goin’ after this guy. I will.” He had a badge and he had a weapon, that had to be enough to end this. ”What did he tell you I did to him?” The question slipped out hoarsely, almost an afterthought. Out on the street Nemo had seemed so sure of his guilt, his scarred fast twisting like a wet tissue, all torn up, lit up with some inner certainty that he hadn’t been able to shake even as he’d sworn blind it hadn’t been him who’d wrung it all up like that.

Tagged: MIKEY BUCKLEY * Word Count: 770