Chapter 3
Michael fell asleep on the lounger after he tired himself in the pool. Sam and Maddie kept an eye on him and woke him long enough to turn so he wouldn't burn, and Maddie put more sunscreen on his body. He seemed oblivious to all of it, but deep inside, he was aware of everything. He listened to them talk about him, and he knew it was underhanded, but he really wanted to just divorce himself from reality for awhile and ride the emotions, even if they were scary. Their voices were like a beacon that kept him safe from his dark thoughts. Otherwise, if he had access to a gun and a range right now, he'd tear through the targets, imagining each one bore a likeness of Anson on them. Maybe that would make him feel better. If it didn't, what then?
Maddie massaged the sunscreen into Michael's shoulders and back, eyeing the scars from past missions and thinking about the internal ones that no one ever saw, the ones that Michael pushed down deep inside for so long that festered and were now coming to the surface. His losing Fi and being so close to getting Anson were the catalysts that finally caused everything to burst out of him.
"Sam, I'm worried about Michael."
"I know. So am I." He waved Edward over.
"A mojito, Mr. Axe?"
"No thanks, just some iced tea, please."
Edward studied him a few seconds, but when Sam's eyebrows rose over his sunglasses, he moved. "Right away, Sir!"
"Obviously, he's not used to your drink choice," Maddie said as she wiped her hands on the corner of Michael's towel and returned to her lounger, where she sipped on her own iced tea.
"I'm swearing off alcohol until this whole thing is over. I've gotta stay sharp for Mike."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"I don't know." Sam looked over at his friend with pity in his eyes. "Right now, I'd be happy to find a way to get his head back on straight and then worry about our next step." He turned to Maddie. "Fi being in jail is a big distraction for him. The CIA bloodhounds are scouring everywhere for Anson, so when they find him, and I'm hoping they do, if Mike gets a little alone time with him, that'd do more than all the medicine in the world."
"You think he'd kill him." Maddie's face whitened. "Sam, you know he's not that kind of man!"
"Shh, Maddie, keep it down!" What was it with this family? They couldn't get emotional without being loud?
Her voice shook as she was close to tears. "He wouldn't just kill someone in cold blood!"
"I know that," Sam replied softly. He swung his legs off the lounge and leaned closer to her. "If he got a shot at Anson, in his mind he would be meting out justice and revenge, and I can't say I'd blame him. If I saw that weasel on the street and I had a gun in my hand, I don't think I'd be able to just say 'Freeze' and cuff him. That man... that monster... is destroying my best friend, and he's leaving a wide swath of destruction in his path. For that, he deserves a bullet and a slow painful death."
Her eyes stared at him, wide with shock and she gaped. She'd never heard him speak like that before. She could only whisper his name. "Sam."
"I'm sorry, Maddie. That's just how I feel, and I know that's how Mikey feels too. It's time to end this, if only someone could find Anson."
Hearing the words come from Sam's lips, Michael took comfort in the fact that they were on the same page. The only difference was that Sam was more practical about how to go about it. Michael would just go out and hunt him down, despite not having a clue where to begin. He could easily waste years trying to find Anson. Sam was like one of those trusty old weathervanes that sat cockeyed up on an old barn. It creaked and squealed in the wind to warn of a storm, but it always knew which way the wind blew, which way you needed to go in order to fly. All Michael had to do was trust that Sam would get the intel and help him determine where to go.
If only he were that trustworthy. Michael replayed the scene from yesterday in his head. He still couldn't believe that he'd pulled a gun on Sam. Even more frightening was that he intended to use it if Sam didn't get out of of his way. His fragile mind unsuccessfully tried to block out the work of his imagination. He could almost feel the gun in his hand, sense his finger pressing the trigger. Only this time, whatever held it back in reality let him do it, and he squeezed harder. The bullet hit its mark, Sam went down in a spray of blood that marked Michael's shirt, and suddenly there were no obstacles in his path. But he was frozen, and in the brief seconds he hesitated, hands grabbed and held him. Cuffs went around his wrists. He looked down at his friend's lifeless, bloody body, his face frozen with shock that Michael dared to shoot him. He lost Fiona, he lost Sam, and now the thing that he'd let take center stage for far too long, his career. All gone, and by his own hand. No. Anson orchestrated this whole thing from the start. When he couldn't have me, he set about to make my life worthless. Now that he's accomplished that, what next? Where do I go from here?
Sam heard Michael make a sound and he turned to see his friend's shoulders shaking. He quickly looked around, thankful that no one was paying attention. "Maddie, Mike needs to go upstairs now. Can you grab our stuff?"
"Sure!" She glanced over and saw that Michael buried his face in his folded arms, but she knew what was happening. She hadn't seen him cry like that since he was a little boy, and it broke her heart and kept her still in place.
"Go, Maddie!" Sam rasped as he threw on his shirt. "I'll take care of Mike." He got up, moved over to Michael's side, and put a hand on his back. "Mike. Come on, wake up."
Sam shook him gently, anticipating a violent awakening, and he wasn't disappointed. A fist flew out at him, but he caught it well before it made its mark. Then Sam sat on the edge of his lounger and held onto it with an iron grip until his friend came to his senses.
"Sam... what are you doing?"
"Trying to keep you from beating the crap out of me." He said it with a smirk, a signal to Michael that everything was okay. At least, on the surface.
"Oh, sorry about that." He pulled his fist away and Sam released it, and he slowly sat up. He swiped at the moisture under his eyes, and they were still glossy when he looked up at Sam. "What happened?"
"You were having a bad dream. Not that I blame you, with everything that's been going on lately. Come on, let's go back up to the room, and you can grab a decent nap up there."
"Thanks." He remained quiet as Sam led him inside with a hand pressed lightly into his back, as if he didn't trust him to not run off on some psychotic tear. He should have felt indignant about that lack of trust, but then, didn't he earn it? He was acting crazy at the chemical plant. Everyone knew it, and now Sam was on babysitting duty to make sure that nothing worse happened.
"Mr. Axe!" A voice came from the front desk and their heads turned to see a woman trotting over to them with a smile on her face. "Mr. Axe, you requested some extra key cards for your friends. Andrew asked me to give these to you!"
"Thanks, Giselle."
She pressed them into his open palm and left her touch linger a bit longer than necessary. "If you need anything else, just give me a call," she smiled boldly. Her eyes drifted to Michael and her smile faded, slowly replaced by a wary expression.
"Thanks. I'll let you know."
The elevator doors opened and spared them all an extension of the embarrassing scene. Maddie got in, followed by Sam and Michael. He used one of the key cards to send the elevator to the top floor. A small sigh escaped him. There would be no more interruptions or curious strangers' eyes focusing on his friend, not if he could help it.
"I'll have to suggest to Elsa that she get a private elevator for the penthouse. But she'll probably say no because she likes having exposure to the guests."
Sam turned to look at Michael. Somehow, he'd gotten himself back together and looked completely normal. But later, when the inevitable discussion was sure to come about, he wasn't sure what he would do. He wanted to keep this on the down low, because if word got out about the ex-burned spy losing his marbles, Mike's career would be over. Pearce suggested a few sessions with a CIA shrink, but after knowing that Anson used his talents as a psychotherapist to wrangle his way into Michael's life, that was a no go. Sam knew a guy from his SEAL days that he could trust, but he'd rather try to exorcise these demons himself before they brought anyone in.
Michael retreated to his room and was soon quiet. After awhile, Maddie went to check on him and ask what he wanted for dinner, but he was still asleep. She came out of the room, her brow furrowed. Sam sat in a chair near the windows, sipping on a drink. He watched her as she crossed the room and put down the magazine he was perusing.
"Is he okay, Maddie?"
"He's still asleep. If he's that depressed that he sleeps all the time..."
"I'm inclined to think it's more like he's exhausted. Mentally and physically exhausted. Anybody else, and I'd suggest admitting him to the hospital for lots of rest, but you and I know that one, he'd never put up with it, and two, you can't really get quality sleep in a hospital unless you're sedated."
"You're right." She sat on the edge of the couch for a moment, then got up to pace around the large room. "Maybe we should just have dinner in. I could make something..."
"There's no reason to do that. I'll call room service. It doesn't cost us a thing."
"Oh, okay." She smiled sheepishly.
Maddie needed something to do, because she felt so helpless at the moment. Sam got up, stopped her pacing with his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. "I understand, Maddie. I wanna help Mike too, but he really does need to rest before we can do anything."
"And then, what are we going to do? I don't know anything about psychology!"
Coulda fooled me! The way Maddie gently, and sometimes not so gently, manipulated Michael into helping her friends or doing things for her, he would have sworn she was an expert. But he recognized that it was a survival mechanism, and if anyone were to call her out on it, she would vehemently deny that she did anything.
"There's a menu in the desk drawer over there. Why don't you take a look at it and order us something." He made his way to the master bedroom. "I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back."
"Oh. Okay." Maddie found the menu.
"Pearce, pick up will you!" Sam muttered into the phone as he waited for her voice.
"Agent Pearce."
"Pearce, this is Sam. Don't say anything, just listen. Mike needs at least a couple more days. I've barely scratched the surface with him today."
"Maybe he needs professional help."
"Maybe you need a swift kick in the head! Don't you get it? You put a professional psycho doc in front of him, Mike'll take two steps back, not forward! I just needed today to let him rest. Tomorrow, we'll sit down and talk. Just him and me."
"It's just as well, because we've got nothing on Anson right now. I have a team heading to the Bahamas to look for him. Our IT team is monitoring bank activities for any sign that Anson is moving funds or even using a credit card."
"He wouldn't. He's too smart for that."
"I know, but it doesn't hurt to look. Smart people do stupid things all the time and that's often what gets them captured."
"Okay, whatever. It's your call. Just be patient with me and Mike, okay? That's all I'm asking for is a couple more days." He paused. "And if I need more I'll ask again."
She chuckled mirthlessly. "You know something, Sam? You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."
"What can I say? It's part of my charm," he shot back with a smile.
"Good luck. And if you need any help, I mean it, call me."
"I will. Thanks." Sam closed the connection. "I have no idea how to make this work, but I'm gonna do it." He got up and went to the living room, and he found Michael sitting on the couch with Maddie.
She smiled at Sam. "Michael's up! I ordered from the menu, and our food should be up in about a half hour."
"Great." Settling himself into a chair opposite Michael, he studied him a moment. He looked beat. "Did you overdo it in the pool?"
"No," Michael rested his head against the couch back. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."
"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight, after supper, let's do something. Play cards or something relaxing. I could call the spa and have Renee come up. She does the best massages."
"I'll think about it. Thanks."
After dinner, which they ate with some relaxing music in the background, Michael succumbed to Sam's coercion, and he found himself sprawled on the bed, covered in nothing but a towel tied around his waist, and a strange woman straddled him to work out the kinks in his back and legs. He didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't work. Only later, when he woke up in the middle of the night to discover that the rooms were all dark and he felt good, did he realize that he was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of stuff lately, and he began to see that maybe it was time to confess and get it off his chest. Then things could start to go back to the way they were and as a team they could get Fiona out of jail.