regular hotel room at ten o’clock on Thanksgiving night had proven nearly impossible. Heading back into Kansas City, which was only about ten minutes on the highway, he had started checking in with the hotels around the airport. He’d been too annoyed after his third stop to try any longer, and when they’d offered the suite at a discounted rate he’d taken it. But shit, even then the stay was costing him three hundred dollars. At that price, he couldn’t afford to stay any longer.
He’d come back home for one reason—his grandmother had asked him to, something she’d never done before. She said it had to do with his grandfather’s will, and as much as Alex had hated the old man, he had to admit that he was curious. Her offering to stay in the apartment over 100 Main had made the whole thing easy and inexpensive, but that hadn’t worked out.
Whatever the big news was, it was to be announced at an appointment this morning with his grandmother and the attorney. Once he’d made the decision to come, he figured he might as well stay a couple of days, but after last night he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. After sleeping on it, he couldn’t believe he’d agreed to see his mother again before he left. They never had anything to say to each other, he couldn’t imagine that her sobriety would change that. In fact, he was shocked and ashamed at how much her sobriety pissed him off. How dare she give him—her only child—the worst years of her life?
The more he thought about it, going home seemed like the most appealing option. He could have the meeting, figure out what the hell was up with his grandfather’s will, swing by the Stop & Go to tell his mother something came up, then catch the next flight out. Maybe even be back in time to sleep in his own bed tonight, pretend the past twenty-four hours hadn’t happened.
Alex got out of the massive king-size bed and called up some room service.
In for a penny
, he thought. After ordering, he utilized the huge marble shower, turning up the pressure and letting the hot water pound his back. Good lord, what he wouldn’t give to have access to one of these after a few months on the “Lady Kate,” his summertime home.
A fishing boat might not be luxury, but it was a good way to forget a lot of shit. The work was hard and the days were long. It wasn’t unusual to go a several weeks without a shower while they were at sea. Ironically, on the boat you were always in either a state of damp, very damp, wet, or full-on soaked. But never clean. It didn’t matter, no one else was either. Everything smelled like salt water and fish.
Alex searched the shower and realized he’d forgotten to grab the free shampoo, conditioner, and soap. Cursing under his breath, he stepped out into the cold air of the bathroom and swiped it all from the counter. He lathered up the soap and ran it over his skin, scars and all.
Alex’s body had put up with a lot of abuse over the years, and he didn’t mind a few gnarly scars, as they all told his story, whether good or bad. Some he’d earned honestly—you couldn’t really be a Ranger for long before earning some sort of wound. Some were a result of plain stupidity, like when he got caught up on a barbwire fence as he and Ryan ran through a field from the cops.
He’d spent years looking for an adrenaline rush, and he always managed to find it. As soon as he was old enough to walk out the front door of the double-wide, he’d been on a mission to prove himself to the world, whether by finding trouble or through hard work. He had always taken both very seriously.
He had personal reasons for joining the military, but the physical demand had also called to him. However it didn’t take him long to realize that being a grunt solider was not his ambition, and after a while the routine had gotten old. He needed a challenge, mentally and physically, and becoming a Ranger had offered that. The Rangers were the best of the best, and he had
Learning to Kill: Stories