Nothing Special V (Nothing Special 5)

“I’m here to see Councilman Steele.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked, flipping open a bulging black calendar book.

“Nope,” he replied curtly, sticking a well-chewed toothpick that he’d pulled from his coat pocket in his mouth.

The woman gave him a look that barely masked her revulsion. “I’m sorry. The councilman’s calendar is full for today, but I’d be happy to take your—”

“Not a problem, I’ll come back when he’s not busy.” He winked and turned to leave. He was almost home free when he heard a sharp, “Stop right there. Don’t even think about it.”

Steele stopped midway out the door and took a couple steps back, letting the glass close in his face. No matter how much he’d like to, he couldn’t ignore that voice or its tone. One that sounded exactly like his father’s.

“Come on, Edwin. Inside.”

When he turned around and looked his uncle in those light eyes, his chest ached with a need to see his father just one more time. It was his twin standing in front of him, but if he closed his eyes, he’d swear it was his dad. That Estonian accent lingering just barely on the tip of his tongue but overshadowed by the extensive time spent living in America.

“Please hold my calls, Renee. Thank you.”

Steele walked past the wide-eyed receptionist, her face showing her confusion. Confused that the regal councilman would consort with such a vagabond. His uncle closed the door and walked up to him, pulling him into a hug. Steele didn’t have the strength or willpower not to hug him back. He embraced his father’s twin with the ferocity of needing him to make everything not only right in his life but right in the world. Life was screwing him too hard and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Vennapoeg.”

Steele knew some of his family’s native language, but he didn’t speak fluent Estonian, had always run when his father started up lessons, not wanting to miss a second of having fun with his isa instead of learning. But he knew the word nephew. It’s how his uncle always greeted him. Steele held on and closed his eyes while his last remaining family member tried to comfort him.

“You’re going to be okay. You will. You’re strong, vennapoeg. You are your father’s son. You will pull through this.”

“I’m tired of fighting,” Steele whispered painfully, clutching his uncle’s expensive suit jacket in his fists.

“You’ve just begun.” His uncle pulled back and placed his hands on his cheeks, looking him in his sad gray eyes.

“I can’t fight for that city anymore. I won’t. They let him die… they just ignored his call for help. I know they did.” Steele felt the need for a drink. The weight of living with his battalion’s death, and now his partner’s death, ate at him. Even though he’d never felt comfortable in Oakland and he and his partner never got a chance to form a more definitive bond, Steele knew his partner had been a good cop.

“I’ve done everything I can, Edwin. I can’t prove that unit could’ve got there in time to save him,” his uncle said sadly.

Steele gritted his teeth to keep from cursing up a storm. He’d never humiliate his uncle in his place of business. “Those bigoted bastards,” he hissed. Shaking his head, his voice strong again. “I’m not going back.”

“I know you’re not. Because god help ‘em all if they hurt you too.” His uncle spoke in that fear-provoking tone that all the Steele men were notorious for. “I’ll be in prison for the rest of my life. Don’t let the suit fool you, vennapoeg.”

“It never has, onu,” Steele answered. He absolutely knew of the power beneath that suit. His uncle was still a warrior – only now he had to fight from this office because of the metal plate in his hip – he’d fought right alongside Steele’s father in many protests right here in the United States before joining the Marines to fight abroad. It was in their bloodline. His great, great grandfather was a general in the Estonian Defence Forces – a peacekeeper that participated in the 1921 forming of the League of Nations. A man loved and respected by his countrymen until he saved the life of an American soldier that was being tortured by Estonian commanders.

As far back as Steele could remember, the men in their family stood up for those weaker than themselves, stood for what was right, no matter the cost. It’d not only cost his great, great grandfather his position in the military but the love of his homeland. It was a blessing his grandfather wasn’t too proud to leave, wasn’t afraid to call America home, that’s why they fought for it.

Steele himself was a third generation Marine Force Recon lieutenant. He performed sixty-two successful black ops missions before taking bullets in the ribs and the thigh, ending his military career. The Navy doctor said he’d walk with a limp the rest of his life and would never be battle ready again.