"Rise and shine, Lee."
Christmas's eyes fluttered open, blinking furiously to clear the bleariness from his vision. Erin leaned over him, whispered into his ear, unaware he was stirring.
"Come on," she said, lips brushing his ear, "wake up. It's eleven in the morning."
A thrill shot down Lee's spine, settled into his lower abdomen. He shivered, turned his head to look at Erin. Hardly an inch apart, all he could see were her eyes, sucking him into oblivion. Their lips brushed ever so slightly, almost like a butterfly kiss, Erin's breath caressing his skin, sending a myriad of feelings through Lee. His mouth grew dry. Erin, as though oblivious to the contact, drew back a few inches, smiled into Christmas's eyes.
"Good morning," she said. "I ordered doughnuts. Do you want some?"
"Um, doughnuts…?"
"Yeah, for breakfast. I can't cook worth a damn, and I'm not gonna learn how to anytime soon." Erin straightened, sauntered away from Christmas. "Did you know you sleep walk?" she called over her shoulder.
Lee rubbed his eyes, groaned. "What?"
"You sleep walk."
Christmas listened to Erin walk across the room, open some drawers, take some clothes out. He turned his head, watched – slightly embarrassed, mostly surprised – Erin slip out of her clothes from the day before. His eyes traced the curves of her body, admired the shape of her ass and her breasts. Erin hummed to herself, shimmied into a pair of faded jeans. The wolves on her shoulder blade rippled, the snarl from the first one seeming all the more dangerous. She pulled a loose-fitting gray long-sleeve shirt, rolled it up to the sleeves sloppily. Rolling her neck, Erin turned back to Christmas, one eyebrow arched in amusement.
"I sleep walk?" Lee managed to ask, picturing the smooth contours of Erin's thighs as they sloped up to form her hips.
"That, or you just wanted someone to snuggle," Erin stated, running a hand through her hair. "Now, breakfast. Downstairs. Bathroom's right here if you need to use it."
She was out the door before Christmas could open his mouth to speak. He sat up, glanced around. The comfy chair sat in the corner, unmoved. He felt the springiness of the bed beneath him, realized he was tangled in blankets. Lee scrambled off the bed, tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, accidentally dragged the blankets with him to the floor. Struggling to remove the blanket, he made his way into the bathroom, locked the door behind him. The face reflected in the mirror across from him was that of a horrified, astonished, and oddly pleased man. The insistent heat below his waist throbbed in excitement.
"Jesus," he gasped, shaking his head. "This is a dream. This is a dream."
He glanced down. All his clothes were still on, not a single button undone or zipper unzipped. His knives sat untouched on his hip, the familiar cold steel pressing into his skin. His feet still wore his boots, the laces tightly tied the way he had done it himself the previous morning.
No sex, he thought, only partially relieved.
"Sleep walk," he growled to himself, shaking his head. He relieved him, washed his hands, splashed water on his pale face. "Since when I have done that before?"
He vaguely recalled a restless sleep until he had gotten up to use the restroom during the night. Had he wandered over to Erin's bed instead, in a groggy stupor that deceived him into thinking he was at home, that Erin's bed was his bed?
"That's got to be it," he muttered to himself, swallowing thickly.
Hesitantly, he went down the stairs. He found Erin in the kitchen, munching away an extremely large cinnamon roll. She glanced up at him, gave him a smile peppered with cinnamon and glaze crumbs. She gestured to a seat the table, pointed to the large pink box full of a variety of doughnuts.
"Your choice," she said, swallowing the sugared bread with some difficulty. "Don't eat a lot, though. I want to bring some for the boys."
"Right," Christmas muttered, sitting down into one of the polished wooden chairs. He selected a glazed doughnut, took a bite. The sugar tickled his jaw, made his mouth water.
The two ate in silence. Erin finished off her doughnut, leaned back in her chair, content. She licked her lips, sucked off the lingering glaze and cinnamon from her fingertips. Lee ate slowly, forcing himself to stare at the pink box at the table. Images of Erin's near-naked body rose in his mind, coupled with the thought that he had slept in her bed with her in it that night. He couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. He snuck a wary glance at Erin, found her slumped in her chair, eyes closed. Her lips moved in silent prayer, reminding Lee of the brush of her lips against his. He shivered, nearly choked on his breakfast as the recollection of coming into contact with Erin's lips clouded his senses.
"Today's the fifteenth."
Christmas glanced up at Erin, swallowed the last of his doughnut. Erin still reclined in the chair, eyes closed. Lee let his gaze linger on her features, understood, at that moment, that Ross had been right – that Erin looked sad, not peaceful. She was plagued, burdened by sorrow and regret, such feelings overshadowed by her conviction of making others believe she was a smart-ass, a woman without a care in the world.
"Six years ago," Erin continued quietly, "The Ravenous took me into their team. That's the day I also got the tat and made everything official." A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I had just turned nineteen."
Lee shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsettled by the woman's frown. Yang had been wrong. Although highly unlikely, Erin had joined the team young – considerably young. She was, according to Christmas's quick calculation, a decade younger than him, still young but not at all a greenhorn.
"I turn twenty-five today," Erin mumbled, more to herself than to Christmas. "Can you guess what else today is?"
"What?"
"It's the three-year anniversary of my team's slaughter." Erin sniffed, but no tears threatened to overcome her. "Today's just a day full of events. It's also the day I get truly get drunk." She opened her eyes, passed a hand over her face. "I eat all the worst shit I can find, too. Nothing but sugar for me all day." She fell silent. "The boys loved sugar…"
Christmas felt like he had stumbled into a hidden cave, one lined with crystals and secrets. He said nothing, paid close attention to Erin. She stared at the table, suddenly chuckled and shook her head, muttering, "Oh, boy, Teddy. You and Rover. Jesus."
"What job was it?" Lee heard himself ask, voice quiet, subdued.
Erin moistened her lips, glanced at Christmas. "It was an assignment in Iraq. Most mercs passed it up, said they didn't want to take it. I certainly didn't. But, hey." She shrugged. "I was the youngest on the team. What did I know? Just the ins and outs of my knives, that's all."
"Why did you turn the job down?"
"I wanted a break," Erin answered. She tapped her fingers on the table, pulled the lid down on the box of doughnuts. "I was twenty-two. Being a merc was my life. It was all I knew, and I just wanted to take a breather, just to sit back and enjoy the sunshine for a little while longer." Her lips twitched into a sad, failed half-smile. "They wanted me to go, though. Leroy…he was the oldest and the most experienced on the team. He knew skill and talent when he saw it. He begged me, almost on his knees, to go, but I said no." Erin turned and looked at Christmas straight in the eyes, locking gazes with a fierce intensity Lee was afraid to break. "I hope you and the rest of the team never experience what it feels like to lose your family. That's what they all were to me. They were the family I never had."
Erin stood up, picked the pink box up from the table. She set it on the counter, returned to the table with a towel to sweep off the crumbs. The mischievous glint that Christmas had come to recognize in her eyes was gone, replaced instead but a flatness equivalent to that of a dull blade. His heart cringed for her, pity swelling up in his chest. He fought the feeling, reminded himself that she was a threat, lost track of his thoughts. Erin swept the crumbs off the table in front of Lee, piled them in her hand, tossed them into the trash. The towel twisted and curled beneath her agitated hands.
"I hope you and Ross and Yang – all of you guys – never get to know what it feels like to wake up each morning and know you're responsible for your team's death." Erin's vision blurred slightly, but the tears still did not fall. "Every day, I wonder, 'Could I have saved them? If I had gone, would they have lived?' I'll never get to know." She sighed, rubbed the back of her neck. "I guess that's what happens when you become a merc at the age of seventeen."
Christmas moistened his lips, asked tentatively, "Is that what you wanted to be when you grew up?"
Erin laughed. "A part of me, yeah. I wanted to be, you know…someone like John McClane in the Die Hard movies or Martin Riggs in Lethal Weapon. Not necessarily a cop, but someone who did the right thing and made the world a better place." She shrugged. "What I really wanted to be was an author."
"An author?"
"Yeah." Erin smiled softly. "I wrote like a dream. I had all these ideas, and I pounded out novel after novel. None of them were ever published, of course, but…I still have them, just to remind me of what could have been." She tossed the towel onto the counter. "Funny, how life works, huh? Being a merc wasn't something I wanted. It just sorta happened. I'd like to think I'm making the world a better place…" Again, she laughed, this time harsh and bitter. "But now, when I watch movies and the characters say that, I can't help but think, 'That's a bunch of bullshit. We can't make the world a better place.' It's just a fucking cliché that authors and directors put on their characters, just to make them seem good. 'All the world's a stage,' I suppose."
Christmas slumped against the back of his seat, overwhelmed. He frowned inwardly, feeling the pity and sympathy for Erin rising up in his throat, threatening to choke the life out of him. Erin opened the refrigerator, removed a Heineken from the door. She stared at it, debating whether or not to open it and start the first drink of the day. Lee stood up, walked over to Erin, pried the perspiring bottle from her hands. Knocking off the cap, he poured the liquid down the sink, startled by his own actions as the last of the alcohol disappeared down the drain.
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Erin asked, unfazed.
Lee set the bottle aside, heard himself answer. "An actor," he said. "Not just in the UK, but here, too. I wanted to be in action movies, kind of like a James Bond." He saw the smirk that spread on Erin's lips. "Hey, don't laugh. A boy has a right to dream."
"James Bond," Erin muttered, chuckling in spite of herself. "James Bond isn't bald."
"I wasn't bald sixteen years ago."
Erin held her hands up, backed away. "My bad. You'd've been one helluva young Bond, though."
"That was the point."
"So all those young girls could swoon and fall at your feet?" Erin's smirk widened, the glint slowly sliding back into her pupil. "So debonair of you, Christmas." She stepped back, arced her hand in front of her as though cleaning a window. "I can just see it now. 'The new James Bond: Lee Christmas! The youngest James Bond to date!' Boy, you would've been a hit alright, and Sean Connery would've been throwing Heinekens at you while you walked down the street, stalked by a shitload of girls."
"That would've been nice."
"Ha." Erin picked up the box of doughnuts, fished her keys from her pocket. The smirk faded from her face. "What did you do instead?"
"For a living?" Lee sighed, rubbed the stubble on his balding scalp. "I was British SAS. I didn't come over to America until I was thirty. I joined The Expendables two years later."
"So you've been fighting all your life, too," Erin mumbled. "Here, take this." She handed Christmas the box of doughnuts. "Let's get these puppies to the boys before they get cold."
Erin locked up the house behind Christmas and set out onto the street. Lee found himself growing mildly amused as he worked to keep up with the woman's long, leisurely strides. Her face wasn't graced with her normal smile. A soft, regretful smile tainted her lips instead, her eyes pools of deep reflection. Tool's shop came into view, teasing an anticipatory smirk out of Erin. She glanced at Lee, took the box from his hands, gestured to the garage, deploring Christmas with her eyes to open the door. He obliged, let her step inside. At least he had learned one thing from being British, or so he hoped: how to be a gentleman.
"Good morning!" Erin called out, weaving through the motorcycles. Christmas couldn't help but stare at her ass as she maneuvered through the maze.
Ross practically materialized out of the air. He placed a comforting hand on Erin's shoulder, immediately noticing the solemnity about her. She offered him a smile, however, and shifted the box so should could touch his hand on her shoulder.
"Thank you," she murmured, her gratefulness reflected in her eyes.
Ross nodded his head, let his fingers linger on Erin's skin. She dropped her hand away, and he removed his hand from her shoulder, stepping back to allow her forward. She strode proudly into the tattoo shop, flaunting the big pink box. The men perked up, greeted her with exclamations of excitement and enthusiasm.
"I brought doughnuts!" Erin cried, setting the box down with a flourish. "First come, first serve!"
If the pancakes from the day before had caused a scene, the doughnuts caused a riot. Erin's face split into a genuine grin, the first of the day, her face radiating joy. Here were her lost boys reincarnated, sans physical features and personalities. Here were not the replacements to her old team members but the men she hoped to acquaint herself with. Here was the team she desperately wanted to join. Here were the men she could find room in her heart for, right beside The Ravenous. Here was her home away from home.
Ross pulled Lee aside, eyeing the men warily as they swarmed around Erin's small body, obscuring her from view. He turned to Christmas, fixed him with a steady gaze.
"Today's her birthday," Lee stated, voice clipped, reporter-like. "Six years ago, she was accepted into The Ravenous officially on June fifteenth. She joined when she was seventeen."
"Seventeen?" Ross shook his head, ran a hand through his hair. "Seventeen."
"No shit." Christmas rolled his shoulders, glanced at the swarm of hungry mercs around the table. "Today is also the day her team was killed."
Barney rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, scratched at his beard. "We should do something," he muttered to no one in particular.
"Like what? Throw her a birthday party? Don't be ridiculous."
"She'll think of today," Tool spoke up behind the two mercs, "as the anniversary of the worst day of her life. We should make today a day worth remembering for its happiness, not for its sadness."
Christmas glanced at the tattoo artist, noted Tool's exhausted features. "Are you drunk?" he asked, eyes drawn to Tool's stringy and unusually greasy hair.
"Only a bit," the man replied, following the statement with a raucous belch. "We just gotta make her happy today, that's all. Shouldn't be too hard."
Ross smirked, nodded his head. "What, then?"
"I say we go for a bike ride, hit up the nice spots," Tool suggested. "Stop by a bar. We could hire a male stripper for her!"
"Sure you don't want to do that yourself?"
Tool laughed. "I'll be long gone by five, I think," he garbled, still laughing. "Just make sure I land on a couch or something."
Christmas chuckled, glanced around. He frowned, counted the number of men in the room. "Where's Yang?" he asked.
"He won't be here for a week," Ross answered. "Something's up with his parents in China."
"It was an emergency," Tool stated, nodding his head gravely. "Means you get double-shift."
"What?" Lee faced Ross, anger creeping into his eyes.
"I can't take the shift," Ross explained. "Tool can't be stuck here drunk. If we get a call, he'd fuck it up. And the rest of the boys have plans. Tonight isn't their shift, so they didn't leave the night open."
"You've got to be shitting me! This isn't fair."
"It's just one more night." Ross shrugged. "You'll be fine."
"Un-fucking-fair."
"Barney!" Erin waved from over at the table to catch the older man's attention. "I still have some doughnuts. Do you want one?"
Ross lumbered over, watching Erin carefully. She smiled at him again, handed him a plate stacked with two doughnuts, both simple glazes. Her hands trembled minutely as she looked around, gaze darting from Christmas to Tool, from Toll Road to Gunner and Hale, finally settling on Ross. Her eyes misted over slightly, her lips stretching into a bitter smile. Ross stiffened, expecting tears. He reached out, touched the woman on her shoulder again, pulled her aside, away from Christmas's burning, almost accusing, stare. They slipped into a dark corner in the back, hidden from prying eyes. Ross set the doughnuts aside, faced Erin. She rubbed her eyes, tried to smile bravely.
"You guys remind me of The Ravenous," she explained, voice cracking.
Ross forced Erin to look at him. "I don't think your team would have wanted you to be so heartbroken on your birthday," he stated quietly. "They'd want you to be happy, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I guess…" Erin sniffled, managed to clear the mistiness from her eyes. "It's just so hard, you know? I still remember how they'd wake me up on my birthday and shower me with beer and money and all these things I didn't need. I don't think they understand that I need them, not the stuff they were giving me." She smiled nostalgically. "They'd throw me some crazy parties, too. And 'cause I was so young, they had fun pulling the weirdest shit on me. It was so fun. God, I miss them so much."
"Listen, how'd you like to go on a ride with us?" Ross squeezed her shoulder, awkward when it came to being comforting, especially towards women. "Tool's a little drunk, but he should be fine. It's a nice day, and you should be outside enjoying it. How's that sound?"
Erin nodded her head. "That sounds pretty nice. You'll have to give me a ride back to my place first, though."
"Deal."
Erin wrapped her arms around Ross's neck and pulled him close, gripping him with surprising strength. Unaccustomed to hugs, Ross nevertheless returned the embrace, found himself clutching Erin as close as he could to his body. She only tightened her grip in return, face burying into his neck. The feel of her body in his arms sent tantalizing shivers down Ross's spine. Her hair, vaguely smelling of cinnamon, tickled his nose, confused his senses. She planted a kiss on his cheek, her lips brushing his ear.
"Thank you, again," she whispered. "It's been awhile since anyone's ever cared."
Reluctantly, Ross let Erin go, unconsciously trying to maintain contact with her body as long as possible. She gave him one of her pretty smiles, beckoned him out from the corner. Christmas's eyes followed her to one of the motorcycles, his gaze darting to Ross's face. The older man's expression was that of perplexity and something Lee couldn't place – at least, not from such a distance. Ross called out to Tool, told the former merc to ready the bikes for a ride while Erin stopped by her place to pick something up. Lee felt something twinge in his chest, tightening around his throat. He watched, unknowingly glowering, as Ross backed his bike out of the garage, Erin hopping onto the seat behind him, arms linked around his waist.
The two sped out into the street, garage door rolling shut behind them. Erin clung loosely to Ross's waistline, her fingers touching bare skin as the wind created from the forward movement of the bike lifted the older man's shirt. Another shiver of pleasure coursed down the man's spine, made his mouth dry. He shook his head, fighting off the senses that threatened to overwhelm him. He sighed with relief as he pulled up into Erin's driveway, partially grateful as the woman's touch slid away from his sculpted torso, partially disappointed that she hadn't let her fingers linger on his abs.
"I don't need to go into the house," Erin said, opening the garage door. "It's right here in the garage."
The early afternoon sun flooded the garage with light, illuminating naked concrete and bare walls. Erin approached the tarp-covered object on the far right, boot heels clicking against the bare floor. Grabbing one end of the tarp, she flung it away, revealing the object underneath.
"Beauty, isn't it?" Erin asked, gesturing to the gleaming motorcycle.
Ross could only nod his head. The Harley's black and silver chrome, edged with charcoal gray, glinted in the light. Erin let her fingers trail over the bike lovingly, caressing it as a lover would caress the other's skin, ulterior motives being an arousal or sexual pleasure. Erin swung her leg over the bike, straddled it in such a manner that made Ross's lower abdomen twitch, and kicked back the kickstand, letting gravity draw the bike forward and down the driveway. She paused to let the garage door clatter shut, revved the engine. The Harley gave a throaty growl, rumbled beneath her. A Sportster, the bike's undercarriage stood only two and a half inches off the ground, small and compact, yet still retaining the essence of all Harleys. Compared to the other boys' Choppers and Lee's race bike, Erin's motorcycle, though small in size beside the other bikes, dwarfed them in comparison, the epitome of classiness and true style.
"Shall we?" Erin guided the motorcycle out onto the street.
In a matter of minutes, they were back at the shop. Ross took the lead, beckoned the men out onto the street. Christmas rolled his race bike beside Barney, gestured around.
"Where's Erin?" he asked.
The deep throated growl echoed down the street as Erin rode towards the team.
"Holy shit!" Hale cried. "Gor-gee-ous!"
"Now that's what you call a ride," Gunner stated, whistling. "Ride it proud, Erin!"
Erin grinned as she rolled to a stop. Planting both feet on the ground, her gaze swept over the Choppers and Lee's race bike. Her smirk widened, and she patted the gas tank of the Harley.
"Envious, Tool?" she called to the tattoo artist.
"Can I get a ride?" the man countered, lips splitting into his leering grin. "That's fucking style!"
Erin met Lee's gaze, recognized the look of awe in his eyes. She nodded her head, eyes flashing proudly, and gunned the throttle, eliciting a hearty snarl from the bike. Hale whooped in the back, echoed by Toll Road's "Fuck yes!" and Gunner's deep, gravely laughter.
"Impressive," Christmas muttered to Ross, cocking his head.
As Erin turned the bike around, the team received an eyeful of the bike's tail. On the side, the two wolves, one snarling, one howling, backed each other, The Ravenous scrawled beneath their regal and wild heads. The spitting image of Erin's tattoo, the drawing nevertheless seemed more ominous and dangerous. The men shuddered in turn, realizing the double meaning of the team's symbol. Erin's vicious fighting from the night before rose up in Ross's and Lee's minds, reminiscent of the snarling wolf on her shoulder. And perhaps it was the wolves that had finally devoured The Ravenous, sparing none but Erin alone.
"Thataway, brothers!" Tool cried, spurring his 'cycle into action. "Onward!"
The team caught up with Erin, settled into a fair pace with her. Christmas drew his race bike close to Erin, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She maneuvered the bike with familiar ease, comfortable on the 'cycle's leather seat. He noticed the way she held the bike between her legs, muscles flexed slightly as she moved with the motorcycle beneath her. Teasing thoughts tickled Lee's mind, agitated his abdomen. He shared a glance with Ross, a similar expression crossing the older man's face. They both looked away in unison, focused on the road.
"On metal wings we soar," Erin cried above the droning motorcycles. "Listen to them roar!"
"Asphalt beneath our feet," Christmas heard himself counter, "the wind tastes so fucking sweet!"
"Metal demons are our steeds – "
"Ain't nothing else to meet our needs."
"No more tears – "
"No more fears."
"Just the road to carry us on," Erin finished, grinning at Christmas.
"Just the road to carry us on," Christmas and Ross echoed in unison, each beneath his breath. "To carry us on…"