Conner came downstairs, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Fuck, but he was tired. He needed a few more hours to be honest, but he had shit to do and not a lot time to do it.

First call he made was to his Papa.

"What?" was the gruff answer over the phone, only the voice sounded weaker than it had the last time Conner spoke to his father.

"You go to your treatment old man?" He was just as gruff as he pulled out the take out menus. With no food in the house, breakfast would be fast food yet again. He'd go shopping for a few things before he got back. Jeremy should sleep for a while longer. At least he hoped so.

"I don't see the point. It's only making me sicker."

Ronin Kincaid had lung cancer from smoking two to three packs of cigarettes a day. It was advanced and they'd gotten him into an experimental treatment regiment. The doctors had warned it would get worse before it got better, if it got better. None of them were ready to lose their father yet, so they all believed he'd get better.

There was no other option.

"You promised Mason you'd go so you could be here to see him marry Jo and then hold his son. You going back on your word, old man?"

"Son, I'm tired. I don't think I'm going to be able to keep that promise even if I want to."

"Papa." He heard the plaintive wail in the sound of his voice, felt it vibrate with a deep fear. A fear he thought he'd never be subject to again.

"Don't start. I'm getting it from all your brothers and your mother. I need one of my sons on my side."

"I'm always on your side, Papa. I just..."

"I know, Conner. I put a lot on you, especially these last years. You're not the oldest, but you're the strongest of them all. They're going to need that strength when I die, especially your mother. Promise me you'll be there for her."

"I promise, Papa," he whispered, trying his best not to let the old man hear the pain clenching his heart.

"Your brother says you're coming home." Ronin changed the subject and Conner let him. Neither of them were up for this conversation this early. "It's about time you got your ass here and stayed here."

Conner grunted and uncapped the beer. "I've been busy."

"Too busy for family?" Ronin countered.

Conner closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, Papa. I'm never too busy for family."

"Could have fooled me."

"Papa, when I'm done with this last assignment, I'll come to New York and stay until..."

"Until I die?"

Conner exhaled. "I wasn't going to say that."

"You and I have always told truths to each other, boy. Don't start lying to me now."

"I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say until your situation is resolved."

"You have to take care of your mother," Ronin pressed. "She's going to need you."

She'd be surrounded by a gaggle of grandkids and her other sons, but Conner didn't point that out. He'd tell his father whatever he needed to hear. Truthfully, if his papa died, he'd probably bury himself in blood and death to get through the pain. It was his way.

"Don't worry old man. We'll all be there."

"What assignment are you working now or is it classified?"

"No. A favor got called in and I'm playing bodyguard duty to Kade's old partner from the FBI."

"Your brother calling in favors? Don't he have enough people over there at that security firm to cover his friend?"

"It wasn't Kade. It was the man's uncle. He's a governor."

His father didn't ask why after that. He knew Conner did a lot of classified work. Why a governor would ask for him specifically, his father didn't care about which was good because he hoped Ronin never found out the kind of classified work he actually did.

"Did Kade or Viktor arrange for the women to go to Russia?"

"Yes. We're just waiting on you to get your ass here so you can say goodbye to everyone. Mateo especially. That boy is nervous as a cat about going anywhere you're not."

"He's been through some shit, Papa. Shit I understand."

"I saw that. He depends on you more than he does his parents. Not sure that's a good thing, but if it's what he needs, then it's what he needs."

Kade's son had suffered horribly at the hands of the cartel. He'd been beaten, tortured, and taught that every kindness came with a shitload of hurt. Conner wasn't sure his nephew would ever fully recover, but he was damned sure going to do what he could to keep him from turning into the serial killer that lurked beneath the surface. The cartel had done its job well since that had been their plan from day one. They were training him to kill and they'd have sent him after Kade when he was old enough.

Thank God they'd found him when they had.

"I need to make sure it's safe for Jeremy and then I'll be there. Two days at the most, Papa."

"Sooner, boy."

Ronin hung up the phone without saying goodbye. It was a habit his father had gotten into since his diagnosis almost two years ago. Conner understood that too. If he didn't say goodbye, then he didn't have to face saying goodbye for real.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his keys and headed out. They needed food and he needed to start making arrangements to get the hell out of Dodge.

***

Jeremy came awake slowly. The pain forced his eyes open. It was true all wounds hurt worse the next day. His entire right side throbbed and his shoulder set him cursing as he tried to sit up and fell back. Dam, but he was exhausted. He didn't want to get up. If it wasn't for the urgent need to relieve himself, he'd probably stay right here until Conner came looking for him.

Getting into a sitting position was a struggle but he managed. The bathroom took longer. He debated a shower. His shoulder made the decision for him. He didn't have the energy to fight through the pain. A shower would come later.

Downstairs showed no signs of Conner. He did see the takeout menus scattered over the kitchen island. Maybe he'd gone to get breakfast. A search of the fridge confirmed his suspicion. It was basically empty. His stomach growled and he looked through the cabinets hoping he'd come across something, but Conner seemed to have cleared everything out.

He blinked when he saw the dining table. It was covered in guns. Guns that were illegal for Conner to have. The FBI agent in him warred with the little boy who was awed at the sight of so many guns. He'd played with every toy gun imaginable.

The little boy won and he picked up each and every gun and inspected it. The fucker even had an uzi. How the fuck did he have this? Where did he get them? Why would he need these?

He knew Conner did classified work for the military. Maybe he had a special permit to have these? Or maybe the military looked the other way when it came to them as long as Conner got the job done.

Jeremy decided he didn't want to know. He didn't want to have to arrest the man who had been charged with keeping him alive. And Kade would literally murder him. Jeremy didn't want to piss his old partner and friend off by arresting his brother.

He put the uzi back on the table and returned to the bay of windows overlooking the empty lot below. The barbed wire was trippled on top of the big gate. Anyone who tried to scale it was going to have a hard time getting in. There were taller buildings that looked down on the warehouse and he wondered if they could see him with a heat sensor. The windows were blacked out on the outside, but could a heat sensor penetrate them? With Conner's security system, he doubted it, but he decided standing in front of the windows wasn't worth the risk.

Dying was not on the agenda today.

The urge to snoop was intense, but he refrained. He was an FBI agent after all. Snooping without a warrant wasn't allowed.

So he dragged himself back up the stairs and found his phone. It was plugged into a charger on the bedside table. Conner must have done it since he'd forgotten about it. It was a nice gesture and something he didn't expect from Conner. It didn't seem like something he'd do.

Jeremy went back downstairs and pulled up his messages. His aunt and uncle had left several messages and voicemails. They were worried. He laughed at his aunt Violet's demand for a text to say he was alive and not bleeding out somewhere causing her to age fifty years every minute he didn't reply.

He called her first.

"Do you want me to have a heart attack or stroke?" she demanded before he had a chance to say hello. "I'm sixty two years old young man. Do you want me to drop dead before you give me grand babies? Is that what you want?"

"Hello to you to, Aunt Vi."

"Jeremy Gordan Bradford, don't you sass me."

He smiled. God, he loved this woman.

"I'm not sassing, Aunt Vi. I took some pain meds last night and passed out. I just saw your ten thousand and one messages."

"It wasn't that many," she muttered. "How are you? Does it hurt much? You never take pain medicine so it must be bad."

It hurt like a bitch, but he wasn't about to worry her. "It's fine today, Auntie. More sore than anything. They just nicked me. It's not serious. I wouldn't even have taken the pain meds last night if Conner hadn't insisted."

"I like that young man. He's very responsible."

"You know Conner Kincaid?"

"Yes, I do. He helped out with a situation that was hush hush. I'm not sure of the details as your uncle doesn't tell me much, but Conner was here for a few weeks a couple of years ago. Very well mannered and quite the charmer."

"You thought he was charming?"

She giggled. Actually giggled. His sixty-two-year-old aunt was giggling.

"You don't?"

"No, I don't think he's charming. He's a pain in the ass."

"Language," she reprimanded him gently. "I told your uncle you were going to chafe at the thought of a body guard, but I'm glad you have Conner. The young man knows his stuff. You listen to him and do as he says."

She sounded like she was telling him to listen to his babysitter like a good little boy. Chafed wasn't the word he'd use.

"Auntie..."

"Don't Auntie me!" He could just see her shaking her finger at him, one hand on her hip. She was a feisty little black woman and when her temper flared you had better run for cover.

"I was only going to say thank you, Auntie. I'll listen to Conner. I promise." He had no intention of honoring that promise, though. He could take care of himself and he was going to find the asshole trying to kill him. If Conner wanted to help, fine, but if not, he and Kade would find the man.

"Good." He heard the anger deflate right out of her. "Your uncle is expecting your call so I'll let you go. You get some rest, Jeremy, and listen to Conner."

Jeremy sighed when she hung up and called his uncle next. God bless her, but she was a handful.

"About time you called," his uncle answered the phone. "How bad is it?"

"Bad enough," he replied. "It's my shooting arm."

"Damn," Don Taylor whistled. "He meant to make sure you couldn't defend yourself. Makes me glad I called in those favors to get you the best."

"How do you know Conner? Auntie said he worked for you a while back?"

Don grunted. "There was a situation involving national security. It's classified so I can't tell you anything. Vi shouldn't even have told you we knew Conner."

"Did it have anything to do with the death threats you were getting?" As the state's first African American governor, his uncle received more than his fair share of hate mail. It worried Jeremy a lot more than he'd admit to the man.

"No, son, it didn't. The doctors told me the bullet went clean through?"

Jeremy guessed they were done with the Conner conversation.

"Yes, it still hurts like a bitch, though. I took some pain meds last night, but I'm feeling it this morning."

"You might want to take some..."

Jeremy shook his head no, but realized Don couldn't see him. "You know how I feel about that, Uncle Don."

He'd seen what pills did to people and he wasn't putting himself in a situation where he could fall victim to prescription pain meds. No thank you.

"I do, but you've at least got some over the counter ibuprofen?"

"Yes, Conner picked up a big ass bottle last night."

"He's a good man."

Jeremy just grunted. He still wasn't sure about that.

"I trust him, son."

Now that said a lot. His uncle trusted very few people and that included his own family. Conner must have made a real impression on him.

"Is that why you called in every favor you have to get me protection?"

"That man has killed almost everyone associated with his trial, Jeremy, so yes, I used up all my chips to make sure you had the executioner as your bodyguard."

The executioner?

"Uncle, what exactly does Conner do?"

"He handles his shit, boy, so you do what he says. If he says duck you duck without question. You hear me?"

"I hear you."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, Uncle Don, I'm okay."

"Good. I have a call scheduled with damn union in two minutes. You call me later or at least text to let us know you're still alive."

"I will, Uncle. Love you."

"Love you too, son."

They hung up and he went through the rest of his messages. Most were from work and one was from Kade telling him to get his ass to New York so they could hunt the fucker down.

Leave it to Kade to ignore his injury and focus on the unsure. Kade had always been the most focused agent he knew. The man was like a dog with a bone when he was on the hunt. Very few unsubs escaped him. They'd caught Sloane once and they'd do it again.

The sound of the key turning in the lock startled him and he jumped his feet, automatically reaching for his gun, and in turn set his shoulder to burning. He clutched it with his other hand and hurried to the dining table full of loaded guns.

The door opened and Conner walked in, carrying several bags. He stopped short when he saw the gun aimed at his head.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Jeremy let out the breath he'd been holding and carefully put the gun down. He should have known it was Conner. Sloane wouldn't have a key, but fuck, he was in a strange place and he was nervous.

"Cut me some slack. I just woke the fuck up and got chewed out by my aunt."

"Don't touch my guns."

He watched Conner stalk into the kitchen and set the bags down.

"You shouldn't have left them out if you didn't want me touching them." His nose smelled bacon and he followed it to the kitchen island.

Conner grunted and started unpacking the bags. He put the groceries away and then handed Jeremy a large styrofoam container.

"I got you eggs, bacon, gravy and biscuits with a side of hash browns. Hope you're hungry."

"Starved."

"Can you get some silverware? It's in the second drawer by the sink."

Jeremy did as he was told and also collected two glasses out of the drainer for the orange juice Conner set on the island.

"Thanks for the food."

Again another grunt. Conner wasn't talkative in the mornings apparently. Jeremy accepted the coffee cup that was shoved at him. It smelled good, but nothing beat the scent of bacon.

"You want creamer?" Conner sat down, a bottle of creamer in his hand. He dumped a lot into his own coffee before handing it over.

"Thanks." Jeremy poured a little into his coffee and stirred it. It really did smell good and he took a healthy swig of the hot brew. "You went shopping?"

"We're leaving tomorrow, but I bought a few essentials I thought you might need."

"Why not today?"

"Because I need to ensure your safety before I let you out of here. I have a guy who's bringing me some body armor for you and Kade. It'll stop most bullets unlike the normal vest you had on when you were shot."

"That's not necessary."

Black fathomless eyes flashed up at him. "I wouldn't do it if it wasn't necessary. I can't protect your head, but I can your vital organs. The man is a sniper. He can take you out at over three hundred yards. He has armor piercing bullets. You're lucky he wants to play with you before he kills you or you'd be dead right now instead of arguing with me over security measures."

He wasn't wrong. Sloane could have killed him last night and there'd have been nothing he could have done to protect himself.

"I know I'm a lucky SOB, but I'm not going to act like a helpless twat."

Conner put his fork down and took a deep breath. "I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking you to let me help you without fighting me every step of the way. My only goal is to keep you alive while you, me, and Kade hunt the motherfucker down and make him bleed."

"Okay."

Conner arched a brow. "Do you mean that or are you trying placate me?"

Jeremy laughed. "Maybe a little of both."

"I can work with that. Now eat. I can hear your stomach growling from over here."

Jeremy rubbed his belly. "It has a mind of it's own. My Aunty told me she could never keep enough food in the house to feed it."

A corner of Conner's lip lifted, but he didn't say anything, just dug into his own food.

Taking the hint to shut up and eat, Jeremy plowed into the biscuits and gravy. All his questions could wait.