Red

Part 13

Bucky

Somewhere around one AM, Mallery finally collapsed on the couch, and I reluctantly made my way upstairs to the guest room to catch a few hours of sleep. After relating my story to her, reliving the accident and abandonment, I was exhausted. To her credit, Mallery held my hands as I relived the worst experience of my life, down to the minute details, including when John Walker spit in my face and left me to die in the rubble.

Some of her questions, I had anticipated. What happened between John and I? Why did he hate me so much? Had he always been this aggressive toward me? The list went on and on. I had drunk too many cups of coffee before she hit me with the big guns: Had John targeted her specifically? Did he know about our connection before they met?

That's the question that continues to play in a loop in my head as I stare at the ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep. I'm afraid because I don't have the answer, and if I get close enough to John Walker, I won't be asking him any questions.

I close my eyes, forcing him out of my mind, focusing instead on my breathing and relaxing into the mattress. Mallery was willing to discuss moving into my apartment, and I plan to contact my contractor tomorrow to see where we stand on the repair job and moving us forward as much as possible.

She's willing to let me protect her as much as possible, and she's going to file as many reports as necessary to make sure her protection order is approved without question. She's braver than she realizes, and I'll do everything in my power to help her reclaim every ounce of power she's lost—to herself, the world, or John fucking Walker.

A few hours later, I wake up to a giggling sound coming from somewhere under my bed. Cracking one eye open, I can see the bedroom door open, and I know Grant must have snuck into my room at some point recently. I make a big production of getting out of bed, yawning loudly, and stretching as ridiculously as possible. I'm touching my toes when I look to my right and see his sandy blond head bobbing with his giggles.

"I think there must be some dust bunnies under my bed," I say, kneeling down and blindly reach under the bed to pull him out. He squeals in delighted protest.

"Uncle Bucky! It's me." I'm holding him up in the air by an ankle as he laughs, and I worry that he might pee his pants like he warned me a few weeks ago. "I'm not a dust bunny!"

I set him on his feet, eyeing him as he wobbles. "I guess you're not. What are you doing in here?"

"Daddy took Auntie Mally into the city," he says, hopping from one foot to the other. I suspect that Nat must have shown up sometime between when I went to sleep and now because Steve never would have left me with Grant without waking me up. "Mommy's home too, and I have to pee now. Bye." He runs out of the room, and I sigh. I love that kid, but this was not the best way to wake up.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I walk into the bathroom to wake myself up and figure out what Mallery is doing in the city without me. By the time I'm a little more awake, I find Nat downstairs making Grant waffles while he colors at the dining table. She fixes me with a stern look, and I throw my hands up in defense.

"I have done nothing wrong ever, in my life," I say with a smile, and she rolls her eyes.

"Have a seat. We need to talk." Nat fixes a plate for her son and dotes on him while I pour a cup of coffee.

"Don't I get waffles and fruit?" I'm trying for humor this morning because honestly, at this point, I'm terrified about what the near future holds. Steve is my oldest and best friend; Nat was my captain and leader, and she's become one of my closest confidants. Grant is ... he's the best and nothing will ever happen to him that I can prevent, and Mallery ... she's the love of my life, of any of my lives. I can't let anything happen to this family.

Nat drops two waffles onto a plate and pushes a bowl of mixed fruit toward me. "Tell me everything about last night."

I relate everything to her in between bites of food; by the time I'm finishing, Steve walks in the front door without Mallery. When I look at him questioningly, he shrugs. "She said somebody had to work today."

"Fuck," I mutter before pushing myself up. Before I can walk away from the kitchen, Nat flicks a hand to Steve, and he quickly carts Grant out to the back yard, and I'm fully aware that I'm in some sort of trouble.

"Sit down." Her teeth are clenched, but other than that, she's the epitome of looking calm, cool, and collected. She's a petite woman, and her ability to mask her anger is what makes her deadly—people don't expect it.

"Nat—" She silences me with a look.

"Did you or did you not tell me that you handled John Walker?" She's standing stock still, staring at me with all the authority she once held over me, and I suddenly feel like a private again.

"I believe I told you that John Walker wasn't my problem anymore," I say slowly, taking inventory of everything within her arm's reach that she could potentially use to harm me. "I didn't believe Walker was a threat to me anymore. I let it go; moved on."

"Oh, how wonderful for you, James. I'm so happy therapy worked out so well for you." I start to rise from my seat again, but in a flash, Nat vaults over the island, knocking me off the stool and onto the floor, pinning me beneath her. I don't struggle; I know better. "You end this, James. End him, or I will."

She moves to stand, and I sit up and shake my head. "I understand you're upset, Nat. I won't let him hurt anyone."

"You stupid son of a bitch." She flings out a hand, hitting the release for my arm and effectively making me useless. "He already has. You weren't the only person who was hurt that day." I watch as her hand flutters across her stomach as she stands. I see it; I know I do. Every lingering question I had is answered.

"You were, when we went into the compound ... you were pregnant?" Sitting on the kitchen floor, I watch as her hardened exterior starts to crumble.

"Steve was so excited at the prospect, but I wasn't sure. I couldn't get a test over there, and I wasn't willing to leave without our men. It's just as much my fault as Walker—"

"Shut up." I shake my head, reattaching my arm and dragging her across the floor to me. I hug her fiercely. "I'm sorry. You're so stupid, but I'm sorry."

"We couldn't pin anything on him." She's not crying, but she isn't clear-headed either. "He said he checked your pulse and you were dead. No one could argue with him."

"I can't kill him, Nat. Neither can you." I rub soothing circles on her back and glance up to see Steve and the firm set of his jaw as he looks at us through the window. "The best we can do is make sure he gets put away where he can't hurt anyone else."

She nods against my shoulder and pulls away to turn and look at Steve. She stands, offering me a hand. "Is that why Steve is so quietly pissed about this?"

Nat shakes her head sadly. "No, I didn't tell him I was pregnant. He doesn't know about that. He's just pissed that his baby sister got knocked around."

"Natasha—"

"You say a word, and I'll kill you." She levels me with a stare, and I don't doubt her for a moment.

The amount of secrets I'm starting to keep from my best friend are adding up. "You have to tell him."

"I will. When John Walker is dealt with, that's when I'll tell him. If he's in prison, Steve won't be able to kill him either." She straightens herself out and walks out to the back yard and scoops up Grant and tosses him lightly into the air before hugging Steve close to her and her son.

Steve is a gentle giant by all accounts, except where his family is concerned. At this point, I don't know who I should be more worried about.