Mac (Riders of Apollo #8)

Chapter Nine: Evangeline White

I pay good money for decent explosive devices, good money, and this idiot blows up his own front porch with the bloody thing after I tell him not to touch it. I gave him a landmine so that he could go and blow up the side of a mountain without worrying about setting up the charges and then he armed it outside of his house. 

He just wanted it to go digging with, he believes that diamonds worth the world are buried in the mountains just north of here and I don't really care what he does with his time as long as he leaves me alone. "Clive?!" He's in my house, which I'm not surprised by, and is likely digging around trying to find my stash of things I'm legally not allowed.

Why would I store it in my house? 

I huff in frustration and close the door behind me, heavy enough to warn the entire street that I've returned home. "I just need one more, Eva! One more and then I'll definitely find the treasure my dad was talking about." He's rambling again which means he's off his meds, no wonder he set the mine off. 

I walk over to him and tug the iPhone charger from his tight grip, he probably thinks it's a det cord or something. Him and I were in the army together, our first mission together and his last. I grab his face and force him to look down at me. "Clive, you're not calm, can we go and sit down and take a deep breath?"

He nods, his eyes wide and his chest heaving in overexertion. I help him over to my couch and he settles, his eyes still flicking over everything and his brain convincing him that there's an enemy somewhere. I look down at his prosthetic leg and a pain runs through me, if only I had been one second quicker he could still have that leg. "I'm going to go and get some meds, okay?"

I was prescribed the same meds as he was years ago, I don't take them so much anymore while he has to take them every day. I normally only take them when I have a night terror or something similar. He gulps them down with some water and I wait patiently for him to be able to speak. "I'm sorry, Genie." He sighs so forlornly that my heart breaks even further.

"No, I'm sorry." I clear my throat before my voice breaks and he just stares at me. We've had this conversation so many times over our years together, he doesn't blame me for the PTSD or the missing limb but I do. I should've been there and I wasn't, now he's reaping the consequences of my actions. I don't voice my thoughts, knowing it would just antagonise him and I've only just managed to calm him down.

"My porch?" 

"I'll pay for it." I smile gently, watching as his eyes start to droop, feeling drowsy because of the meds. "You can stay here for tonight, lovely, come on." I help him up the stairs and tuck him into the guest bed, taking his prosthetic off and placing it by the side of the bed so he can grab it easily. 

I wait until he's fully unconscious before taking my leave, letting him sleep for as long as needed. I check a few emails and sigh, finally replying to a few of my friends in the area and agreeing to go out for dinner with them next week. We'll probably end up going back to one of theirs and playing poker until two am, agitating their wives and girlfriends, but I'm quite happy to take their money.

That is if they let me play now that they know I can count cards. I did end up winning an entire apartment building once, then a car a few weeks later. They'll probably make me pay for dinner as well and they always buy the most expensive scotch and cut of meat the restaurant offers because they're arseholes. 

I should probably head back to the clubhouse though because I know Riley worries more than she should. If I left for longer than three hours when she was younger, she'd work herself into a panic attack thinking I had died. It's probably died down quite a bit since then but she's always been a worrier. 

I check on Clive again before leaving the house, locking it up and resetting all of my security. I had to turn it off when I found out he was going to my house because it would've killed him in the state he was in. I take a town car to the clubhouse because I'm too worked up to drive and Riley comes flying out the minute I pull up, crying into my shoulder.

I shush her softly, stroking her hair and her cheeks just like I used to. "It's okay, I'm alright." She pulls back to check me over, clearly not believing me and I catch the eyes of almost everyone watching this interaction like we're at a zoo. 

"You're not, you're upset." I hate that she knows me so well, we've always been able to tell exactly what each other is thinking without saying anything. "Come inside." She grips my hand and gently tugs me behind her, my thoughts still moving a mile a minute. "What happened? Who blew their house up?" I know everyone else is listening but I really can't find it in myself to care as I pour myself some scotch.

"Clive. He didn't take his meds so he turned up at my place half out of his mind. God, I knew I should've hired someone to help him." I sigh and fight back my tears, this is all my fault. "I had to give him some of my own just so that he'd calm down enough to actually function and he was apologising to me like it wasn't my fault this happened to him."

"Eva you can't blame yourself for everyone that got hurt in the war." 

"I can blame myself for him. I was right around the corner, Riley, less than ten steps away and he loses a leg and here I am completely fine."

"You're not fine!" She yanks my blazer down and points out the burn scars on the left side of my body. "You were hurt too, badly. It's not your fault that you can cope better, Eva."

"Cope? Is that what you call it? You can't help but search for trouble, needing to be chasing someone or getting shot at or getting into any conflict you can and I haven't slept properly for fifteen years. That's not coping, that's surviving." My voice is soft, so soft I wouldn't surprised if she couldn't hear me. 

"I know, I know that. But we're still here, you're still here with me." She squeezes my hand so tightly that both of our hands turn white. "So, can you please stop running into conflict if I do?" 

"I don't think that's possible. You're a bounty hunter and I have way too many dangerous friends." I reply with a soft laugh, the mood lightening as the scotch warms me from the inside out. 

"True. So, let's make a different deal." I raise my eyebrow in prompt, "promise me that you'll come back to me and then I can let you go wherever you need to go." I frown at her, pressing my hands to her cheeks and staring right at her.

"I already made that promise to you, Riley. Every single time I left you, I promised I'd come back." 

"That was when we were living together, you technically still live in London." 

"I don't, not anymore. I signed the needed paperwork, Riley, you asked me to move here so I did." Riley freezes, looking at me in shock as I pull away to pour myself another scotch.

"You hate America."

"So do you and yet now we both live here. What have our lives come to?" She laughs gleefully, hugging me and gesturing for Peyton to join. She does so without complaint. "Now, who's telling Lucia?"