AN: This is a sequel to Fighting Redfox, which you must read first in order to understand the events of this story. Both stories are interconnected.

I had been struggling to write for sometime since my brother's death involving heroin. As I wrote in Fighting Redfox, this sequel contains drug usage; not all who are drowning within the drug's hold are bad people. Not at all. Sadly they just made one bad choice. The rest were made against their wishes, against their better judgement, which could have/may have led to their untimely end. It's not up to us to determine their fate, but we must help them do what is right through encouragement. This story has strong redemption themes as well: there is still hope for the ones still caught in narcotic traps.

Note that I am unwilling to discuss opinions over drug usage/addiction in general in the reviews/comments, as that is reserved for the story itself. If you wish to speak with me regarding the topic, feel free to PM me.

Fighting Redfox and Finding Gryder are dedicated to my brother, Brian.

Storyline: [AU] Recruited by Sting, Mest Gryder begins his descent down a dark path that carries him to the better half of his life. With a family of his own now, he knows about sacrifice. After witnessing a crime, he and Gajeel again enter the struggle against the destructive life they had rejected. It's the fight of a lifetime for both father and son in this Fighting Redfox sequel. [Two plot converg/lemons] Two separate plots - the past and the present - collide as events unfold.

*Major character death warning
*Major plot twists/surprises

*Rated Mature - There is intense language, violence, drug usage, and some sexual situations. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

*I do not own any of the media.

*I do not own any of Fairy Tail - that's all Hiro Mashima.

Chapter Five - Old Friends Die Hard

"Alright. How do you want to do this?" Gryder murmured low to Gajeel. His eyes flickered from his father-in-law's face up into the rearview to see his wife's tear-stained and puffy face staring out the window beside her.

Gajeel was silent. He barely nodded his head. "Assuming they are there," he replied in kind. He let out an inaudible breath. "We'd have to be careful. Tactical."

His palm hugged the pistol's handle as he gripped it a little tighter.

They were hoping all was well and normal when they arrived, the same as how they had left it. No one in their right mind wanted to see children in danger, let alone their own. The worst, however, was the silent kind of danger. The lurking, slowly creeping in and surrounding kind. One never knew it was present until the last second.

They knew that all too well.

"Why are you sad?" Owen asked innocently. He caught his mother's expression.

Melina tried to smile and quickly wiped her cheek before turning to him. "I'm fine, sweetie. I'm not sad."

"Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick either." She quieted his worry with light words.

"But you threw up," he commented.

Her eyes flickered to the back of her husband's head, watered with fresh tears. Her mind could not calm down. It was elsewhere; at the house she grew up in, with her brother and youngest child, trying to make sense of the day. She prayed they were ok.

"I'm fine, honey. I love you so much," she said instead to distract him.

She took comfort in his response when he said it back in his own way. Children were refreshing with their innocence. When the surroundings began to look familiar, they all tried not to tense with anticipation. Her smile then faded.

The beat-up vehicle rolled up the drive, the house still hidden by the dense, dormant winter trees. Before they could round the corner, Melina was already trying to get a glimpse. The only other vehicles parked in the usual spots were Gajeel's truck and their own daily driver. Her eyes swept to the wide front porch.

The light by the door was on. Rhett had expected them to be home after dark, as most trips to the city took all day. There were lights on inside, the upstairs completely dark.

Gryder gave his father-in-law a glance before scanning the rest of the property. There were no signs of Lyon's men, as far as they knew.

"Wait," he said, his hand still on the shifter. His words were for his wife, who was already unbuckled with a hand on the door's handle.

She froze briefly, pausing only to see if he'd physically stop her. What could he do? There was nothing he could do to prevent her from going to their daughter.

Without a word, Melina launched herself out of the back passenger door.

"Melina! Wait for- goddammit…" Gryder half shouted, half growled.

"Gajeel, go with her!" Levy tried to keep her voice calm for Owen's sake. The stress on her face was beginning to show once again. But her husband was already heading for the property's edge, pistol in hand, to check for unwelcome guests.

Gryder left Levy and his son in the car with a rough shove to the driver's door and a frustrated breath. He jogged towards the house after Melina.

Melina quickly entered the house, noting the unlocked front door. An ember lit deep inside, slowly growing orange with the fact that if someone had wanted to, they could have straight up entered in. She didn't want to think what could have happened.

She stepped into the warm front room. "Rhett!"

Setting her purse on the floor beside one chair, she spied Briella sleeping peacefully on the couch. A blanket was draped over her. Instantly, her previous, incessant worry settled as she watched her breathe.

"Everything alright?" Gryder asked in a rushed tone. He strode into the living room, his gaze touching everything and looking for anything out of place.

"Yes," Melina replied. Her fingers barely touched Briella's shoulder. She peered into the hall and then up the stairs. "Where's Rhett?"

"You guys are home. That didn't take long."

Melina whipped around to see Rhett slowly enter from the hall. She stared him down as she spoke evenly, "Would it kill you to lock the door?"

"I thought it was," he answered.

Gryder gave a huff and quietly left to help the others.

"You need to lock the door." Melina kept her voice low and pointed to the entrance where her husband had just exited. Her gaze settled firmly on her brother.

Levy entered then with Owen in hand. She looked over her shoulder and then through the front rooms.

Rhett stared quizzically. They were all acting stranger than normal, as if they had been spooked by a ghost. "Ok. For real. What's happened?" he asked finally.

Melina simply said, "Go look at the car." She didn't want to think about or explain it. She'd let the men do that. After all they had been front and center.

She let out a breath and made sure Owen was settled before she wandered to the kitchen. Levy stood facing away from her. Most days she would admit that maybe she took her mother for granted, not fully realizing how much she helped raise her two kids. The love and assistance was greatly appreciated, even if she hardly ever thought about it.

"Mom?"

Levy stirred. She swallowed as she turned to her, trying to hide the look on her face that would give away what she was feeling. "I'm fine."

"I'm not five," Melina stated flatly. Her eyes leveled, her thoughts on her son now watching cartoons. "You know I just did this with Owen."

A light laugh came from the older woman. "I know that. I just have a lot on my mind right now." She began to put away the food portion of the bought goods that Gryder had hauled in.

Melina picked up the cereal boxes. The whole ride home she couldn't help thinking of what had happened to their family once before. "It's ok. The past- I mean, what are the chances of it happening again, really."

Levy kept silent. She knew how the other side of the law functioned. If what Gryder said about Lyon was correct...

"There's no chance… Right?" Melina fought to convince herself. And the panic that threatened from within when Levy said nothing. She crumpled the plastic bag before her in her hands.

"I don't know, honey. The chances seem unlikely, but today. It just doesn't seem right. It feels odd."

"Odd. Like how?"

"What happened six or so years ago I don't think will happen again, at least not in the ways it all occurred. But today's events, it's strange. Gryder just 'happening upon' them when he did."

Melina's eyes could have bore a hole into her. "Mest isn't a criminal. He works in the police station, he just couldn't be involved in-"

"Calm down, that's not what I'm saying," her mother began, her tone somewhat frustrated. She knew what she was thinking but couldn't get the words in order to speak them. She gave a harsh breath and started again.

"Do you remember how your father always said guns aren't the problem, it's the people with their fingers on the triggers? Laws don't guarantee that everyone is going to adhere to them. Criminals just hinder the citizens who are following the law. They choose to ignore the law. Why, I can't begin to understand. But things don't happen the same exact way twice. Just a little bit differently."

Melina frowned. Her palms had formed moisture from holding onto the grey bag. "Why would you scare me like this."

Levy sighed and put the balled up bags in the holder for future use. "I'm not meaning to," she said with a loose breath. "But the fact that it's Lyon and he's who he is. And Gryder is who he is now. It's a dangerous mix, coincidence or not." She lowered her voice, "A hardened criminal doesn't follow laws. There is no honor, except within their own. And even then, Gajeel and Gryder are rare exceptions. Men have killed for much less than what those two have managed to achieve."

Loud voices brought an end to their uncomfortable conversation before Melina was able to answer.

"That coulda been a disaster waiting to happen."

"No shit, I'll have to look into this."

"I can't believe that happened!"

Gajeel strode none too quietly into the house, followed by the other two. Rhett's face told her he knew about the shootout. Gryder appeared last and quietly closed the door behind him.

"When you all get home, send us a text. But you need to tell your supervisors," Gajeel finished. There was a serious glint in his eyes as he spoke.

"I will," Gryder replied with a rush. He let out a rough cough and glanced to the kitchen at his wife. "You ready to go?"

"Is everything alright out there?" Levy asked. She tried to keep the worry from her expression.

Gajeel hung up his coat. "As far as I can tell. There's no one out there," he replied. "No sign of anything out of the ordinary."

The conversation with her mother momentarily forgotten when Gryder addressed her, Melina went to wake Briella long enough to get her jacket on.

While her back was to him, Gryder let his expression fall. His stoic and calm flickered like a flame in the wind. He stood by and faced the front window. There had been no time to reflect on the day's events. Not yet. Just reaction and survival instincts. Now as he simply waited to go home, his mind wondered.

It had been entirely unfortunate to stumble across his old friend. He supposed 'friend' was too nice a term to waste on a man like him. Lyon was definitely not Lahar. And he hadn't had contact whatsoever with Lahar since before he met Melina.

He felt as though the encounter was a reflection of how well he protected his family. In the time he had known Melina, he had dedicated himself to her safety. To her happiness. Where he failed his mother, he saw the same thing threatening his family now. How could he protect Melina and their children if he was constantly looking over his own shoulder?

He thought his past was just that. He had been there in the courtroom to witness the three drug lords sentenced to life in prison. Melina had struggled that day with memories of her ordeal. He had struggled; his mentor -the closest thing aside from Gajeel that he had had to a father- was dead and gone. But the knowledge that the men who could hurt them were locked away gave them peace of mind.

The image of his former coworker flashed across his mind's eye. He had never given a thought to Lyon or what would happen to the cartel once the trials were completed. It was all just assumed that the illegal contraband had been taken into federal custody when the rest of the cartel's crew fled or later found themselves behind bars. There had been no doubts that it was all done and over.

Was it naive to have believed it? Were they still to live as though it were over?

Were they still safe?

Gryder glanced to Melina. She carried their daughter in one arm and held their son's hand in the other.

His heart fluttered inside his chest. His whole world was standing before him. The overwhelming love warmed him enough to release the thoughts of the past to focus on the present.

"Alright, let's get."

Eyeing the different firearms laying on top of the tall, upright toolboxes, Gryder could feel his stomach slowly turning. The same kinds of weapons were holstered in some way or another on the men already employed by Sting's boss. They roamed the property fully armed.

Gryder felt a nudge on his arm. He glanced to his friend with the silent communication. A smirk was on his face, but his insides roiled.

The warehouse was large and ominous. The atmosphere serious. Heavy. It felt as though he'd be cut down for cracking a joke or laughing at one. Did he really belong here? Could he ever really fit in?

"Do you think we'll carry those soon?" Lahar murmured out of the side of his mouth. His eyes pointed to the toolboxes.

"Why would we?" Gryder replied in kind.

They were to be dealers. What all did that entail? They would most likely learn how to sell it or at the very least learn how to distribute it.

Lahar faced him. "You're joking, right?"

Gryder frowned. He opened his mouth. His voice was cut off by another, one he recognized.

Sting casually strode through the vast, empty room, his footsteps echoed off of the concrete. One of the tall garage doors behind him started to rise as the motor churned several feet above their heads. In came a tan work van. There were no back windows on it, no other distinguishing marks. It drove further into the warehouse where a group of guys were waiting to unload the cargo. Whatever it contained.

"If you think that's for you, you're wrong," Sting said, looking at the small huddle of recruits. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. "You infants aren't ready for that. Not yet. There's a few things you need to master first. Boss's orders."

He halted by the toolboxes a few feet away. His gaze swept over the young adults he'd managed to snag on his mission away from base. A smile appeared as he stared at them.

"If you're gun shy, you're gonna get over that shit real quick."

He stepped over to the small, cleared-away table near the toolboxes and promptly took the .9mm from the hidden holster on his person, quickly dismantling the entire thing, stripping it down to the individual parts.

"Jose doesn't care to be caught unawares in any situation. Everyone on payroll carries. No exceptions. You will learn to defend yourselves as well as engage any opposition or other direct threat. The gunmetal you wield might be the only thing that saves you."

Gryder swallowed. His eyes bore into Sting. Anger was building against his calm exterior. What the hell did that man drag him into? He wanted to make fast and easy money, and Sting was making it seem like they would all be living on the edge of life and death. Isn't that what he did before? Only less intense? He had never dived head first into serious trouble.

Sting indicated to the pistol's parts lying on the table surface as he continued to speak. "One will be loaned to you until you can come by your own. You'll learn how to field strip and clean it in the meantime."

A voice spoke up. "What if I already know how to do that?"

Sting's eyes slightly narrowed. He as well as everyone else looked to see who had said it.

With his arms crossed over his chest, another young looking kid frowned. His blue eyes were trained on Sting. It seemed almost as if he was challenging.

"Who is he?" Lahar whispered.

Gryder shook his head.

"Put it back together," Sting roughly demanded. He pointed to the dismantled pieces. There was an authority in the man's voice, tinged with a hint of anger.

As the young man approached the table, Sting stepped aside. "What's your name?"

"Lyon."

"Well, Lyon, we'll see if you just made yourself look the fool."

Sting crossed his arms over his chest and stood to watch the kid's nimble fingers pick up the pieces. The grim expression didn't lessen after the pistol was correctly assembled. He frowned when Lyon presented him with a complete pistol, minus a full magazine.

"The trigger work?"

Lyon cocked the top, aimed the gun to the side with the barrel at the floor and squeezed the trigger in a dry fire. There was a sharp click.

Sting's eyes wanted to narrow. He held out his hand and the pistol was set in his palm. He hastily inspected it before looking up. "If anyone needs help at all, you come to me or one of my men and we'll set you straight. Lyon or whatever his name is still doesn't know shit."

Quiet snickers rolled through the group. Lyon's lips were still set in a light grin considering he was called out.

"We run a tight ship. Until you know our ways, you know nothing."

Gryder swallowed, unsure of how to take Sting. The man was weirdly familiar, but the memory of why he didn't seem like a total stranger couldn't be pinpointed. The whole thing eluded him. The more he thought on it, the more he could feel himself frown.

The sound of Sting's voice was distorted on him as he struggled with his identity. Though his lips were moving, there wasn't clear words. Gryder studied his mannerisms, the way he stood. He knew he had saw him somewhere. But when? Where? Why was the memory almost faded?

The chain of thought was severed when Sting's gaze settled over him. Gryder's mind went blank as he stared back. There was a glint of something. Amusement? Curiosity? He had never seen anything like it in another man's eyes.

It scared him.

"You alright, son?"

Gryder quickly averted his gaze in shock before bringing it up. "Yea."

After a brief pause, Sting continued speaking. Eventually the newcomers were given loaners and were herded to a long table to practice what they had just learned.

For the first ten minutes, Sting slowly circled the table, watched for any one putting something together incorrectly. It would take them some time to memorize, but they would get it. He had at eighteen, after all.

He looked across the table at Gryder as the young adult connected the slide onto the grip. He tested the mechanism before turning his attention to the safety and flipped it off. He turned to dry fire the gun at the floor.

Watching them all -Gryder especially- made him want to smile.

A sense of pride swelled inside Sting.

The upstairs was quiet now, Gryder realized. The kids must have fallen asleep.

He poured himself a small glass of whiskey and drank half of it right there at the counter. There wasn't a sound in the house aside from Melina's muffled footsteps above him.

With his glass in hand, he turned off the lights and wandered towards the front room. He kicked aside a few of Owen's abandoned toys on his way. His hand touched the doorknob to lock it as he absently stared out of the window at eye level.

There was a barn across the road. It belonged to the neighboring property. Gryder never saw anyone over there at any given time. No farming equipment. No storage. Just an old barn that barely leaned to one side and ached to be torn down. He wasn't sure why they kept it if it wasn't useful.

When they had arrived home, he was half expecting men from earlier in the day to be there -or at that old barn- hiding, waiting for the right moment after having figured out where they lived. Just like at their parents, no one uninvited was lurking.

"Are you coming to bed?" Melina asked softly. Her whispered voice was loud in his ears.

He turned his head to see her standing halfway down the stairs in a pair of his old lounge pants she had long since hijacked. "Yea, give me a minute," he said, and downed the remaining liquor.

When she left him alone, he silently moved to the living room window. A red transparent curtain covered the large pane and allowed him to see beyond. He took in a deep breath.

Something didn't sit right with him. He couldn't place it. The anxious feeling that lay just out of reach surrounded him, he could neither push it away nor bring it close to finally deal with whatever it was trying to catch his attention.

It could have been his run in with Lyon. It was unexpected and entirely unprovoked. He hadn't heard anything about or from him since the night he left the wretched estate. When he left that past life. The low criminal apparently hadn't been found or arrested in the wake of the kidnapping. Gryder didn't recognize the others who had chased him and Gajeel down. Lyon must have recruited new people or brought in seasoned dealers from elsewhere, if he was indeed trying to be what their old boss had self claimed.

Gryder set his jaw, the muscles bunched.

Lyon was trying to rekindle what he had had in the cartel. It was as good a guess as any. A place to start at least.

He pulled back the curtain to see the yard without hindrance. The darkness was comforting. Like a cloak. There was a bit of ease knowing one wasn't seen, that one was hidden from view. From the unknown. A darkness he still felt inside.

It lingered there. Deep within, hidden away. It liked to remind him of who he had been. Of who he still could be. There was time. Had he betrayed his past self, or was his redemption just that, a way to save himself from his wrongs?

Scanning the property, Gryder let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Nothing was out of place, yet the ominous feeling remained. Everything was eerily silent. The calm before the storm? He hoped not. Without a backward glance, he dropped his hand and left.

Not long after, he shut their bedroom door behind him. The lamp was off. Melina was already trying to sleep. As he slid into the bed beside her, he could already tell that he would have trouble sleeping. His body was exhausted, but his mind couldn't shut down. It kept replaying recent events and what it could all mean.

He soon awoke to realize he had only gotten an hour and a half of restless sleep. The longer he lay there the more he risked waking Melina too.

Calmly he made his way to the bathroom and opened the top cabinet. The one he knew Melina couldn't open without getting on the counter to do so. If she knew he kept a pack of cigarettes, he'd never hear the end of it. It was the best option he had to sleep short of weed, and he didn't want to be the hypocrite on probation.

At the bottom step with the cigarette and lighter, Gryder knew something was wrong. Although the front door was still locked, a slight disturbance in the air alerted him to another's presence. It caused chills to form down his neck.

Silent, deliberate steps moved him to one of the kitchen cabinets, where he found the .380 he had stashed for Melina when she was home alone. He had hoped nothing would ever warrant her having to use it.

Instilled training from the academy took over. The handgun firmly in his grasp, Gryder cautiously glided through the downstairs as he would while on duty to sweep the rooms. He consistently raised and lowered his weapon with each cleared area.

All of the windows were still shut and locked. He frowned as he walked the house. Rounding the corner of the laundry room, he could smell the cold, fresh air. Dim light spilled in from the open crack in the back door. The outside air now touched on his face.

Thoughts of his family above him flashed through his mind, his body screamed at him to go to them. Once he passed by the stairwell, a shot of adrenaline iced his veins when he saw a figure standing in the kitchen, dressed in dark colors. A gloved hand was resting on the island surface. The invader seemed at home as he faced the fridge.

Gryder set his jaw and held his breath as he stealthily crept up behind the figure, the gun aimed directly for a headshot. He followed his target as the figure moved closer to the pictures secured with magnets. Pictures of Melina and his children.

"You picked the wrong house," Gryder murmured through his teeth. He pulled back the hammer with his thumb. "You move, you die."

A chuckle escaped the shadowed burglar. He gradually raised his arms even with his shoulders in a half-assed attempt at surrender. "No, I believe you will," he replied casually, not bothering to turn and face his prey.

While he spoke, Gryder recognized the voice. He hadn't heard it in some years, it wasn't possible. In the same amount of time it took him to realize his own surprise, the deadly sound of a slide loading a round in a chamber echoed in his ear.

His peripheral saw the close barrel of a sleek handgun pointed at his right temple.

The next breath was caught in his throat. He froze. With the .380 now aimed away from the vaguely familiar figure, his thumb slowly reversed the hammer back where it originally rested.

The second man who soundlessly held him at gunpoint roughly grabbed Gryder's pistol from his hand and gave a hard shove, pushing him to the side. He was now trapped between the men and the island and the spotlessly clean counters. He backed up until he bumped into the sink.

If it was who Gryder thought, then he didn't know that he was now a cop. Too much time had passed since. Gryder had changed physically, no doubt the other as well. Whoever the second was probably didn't know he was a cop either. But who did, given that he was an undercover agent?

He remembered the cigarette he had pocketed. "I had come down here for a smoke, I'm gonna reach into my pocket for the cigarette and lighter," he said carefully, looking between the two of them.

When they didn't say anything, he slowly retrieved the items and lit the tobacco stick. Half turned, he set the lighter on the counter and lifted his hand to the window. "She hates when I smoke. I need to open the window, otherwise she'll wake up."

They allowed him to do so, though with firearm trained on him. After a few puffs, Gryder turned his full attention to the perps he knew by now weren't there to kill him.

Propping his hands up on the sink beside him, Gryder tried to ignore the gun ever aimed at him. "Whadaya' want then," he droned. He kept his voice low and level.

"Certainly not to hurt you or the little ones," the man said evenly. He motioned to the pictures beside him at eye level. "Though I can't say the same for the sexy thing in these photos. She looks like she could be wild."

A boiling flame of rage surfaced at the mention of his wife and Gryder's breath came quicker than he wanted. He fought to keep his hands on the sink's edge as they tried to goad him. "She stays out of whatever the fuck this is," he furiously growled.

"Alright, alright. It's a bargain, of sorts," the figure said, ushered into the reason for their middle of the night visit.

"A bargain, hm." Gryder took in a quick drag from the it cigarette. He blew it out before continuing with sarcasm. "This doesn't have anything to do with Lyon Vastia, does it?"

"It does."

The man reached up to pull off the black ski mask covering his identity.

Facing Gryder was his long lost friend Lahar.

"You bastard," Gryder murmured, his eyes widened. The surprise of seeing someone he used to be close to quickly began to turn into shock. "You fucking bastard. Why?"

Lahar pursed his lips. "There are multiple answers to that question. Best to be specific."

His flippant reply only stirred the anger bubbling up inside of Gryder. Many things came to mind then, especially why he was now holding up his supposed friend in his own house, but he simply chose, "What do you have to do with Lyon? Why are you doing his bidding?" He looked more closely at him, his head tilted. "And when did you get out of prison?"

"Lyon contacted me for a job after I got out about a year ago. Thanks for visiting, asshole," Lahar spat. His brow furrowed as he spoke. He motioned once again to the photos. "I rotted in a cell for something idiotic while you idiotically left everyone you know for that fine fox. You could have at least wrote a letter."

"What does this have to do with Lyon or this said bargain," Gryder stated. The humor he remembered was still there inside Lahar, but it was now warped. He blew out the last bit of the cigarette with a turned head, and he extinguished the rest of it in the sink.

Lahar gladly continued. "Normally when there's a loose end who's seen more than they ought, we simply kill them. But because this loose end is you…" he trailed off.

Gryder crossed his arms over his chest, the beginnings lf a smile formed on his lips. It wasn't hard to guess what would come next.

"He knows you-"

"He doesn't know shit."

"He wants you to work for him."

"I already have a job."

"He wants you to work for him," Lahar repeated slightly slower than before. "Because now he knows where you keep your family."

"Go to hell," Gryder immediately snarled. That's how his past caught up with him. Lyon would use his own wife against him if he didn't comply. It was blackmail.

"Hey, I'm just the messenger boy. Although I don't agree with this per se, he does have the advantage here. I'd do what he says. For everyone's sake." Lahar gave him a sort of grimace. A wordless plea.

He could see it in his eyes.

Gryder scowled as he considered his limited options. He hadn't had time to inform the right people at the station about events. When he did, they would tell him the same things he already knew now. "I don't negotiate with criminals. Not anymore," he said heavily.

Lahar's expression twinged upon hearing a routine usage of words, brown eyes ever so slightly narrowed. "You sound like a damned pig."

Keeping his mouth shut, the undercover police officer forcefully held the eye contact until Lahar finally broke it. He waved a lowered hand, and the other man with him backed away.

"You can find us at the lumber yard in Alice, off 44. More info can be given once you're there. Come alone. Just hear him out, it's all I'm asking."

He was tempted to speak, but Gryder knew if he opened his mouth, his suppressed rage would undoubtedly follow to manifest into a physical altercation. And that would be difficult to hide in the silence of the night. The last thing he needed was for anyone upstairs to wake.

The second, unidentified man slowly backed up to let Lahar by. The gun was at the ready, though now carried as a precaution, which signaled to Gryder that the whole encounter was soon ending.

"It was good to see you, Mest," Lahar said. He pulled the ski mask back over his head. "It's been a long while. You've got something real good goin' on." He gestured around himself to indicate to all that the house encompassed.

With that said, Lahar quickly left the room behind his accomplice to retrace their steps to the back door.

Gryder let out a rough breath. He placed his hand on his face and blew out another breath to steady his pounding heart. He went to the laundry room and shut the now fully opened entrance.

How had they broken into his house, considering that there were no broken windows or other damaged property? Even the door frame was seemingly untouched. It was as if they had had at the very least a bump key.

He stuck his head out the door. There was no sign of anyone. No vehicles around, no sounds other than the typical nighttime tunes.

Gryder pursed his lips. His family's privacy had just been compromised, and now his life was as well. Lyon knew where he lived. He could be easily found. If he wasn't here, Melina and the kids would be in danger at all times. There was nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide.

There was also the fact that he worked for the right side of the law. If Lyon -or anyone else who knew him for that matter- found out, it would spell bad news. He didn't know what could happen. He honestly didn't want to find out.

The ghost of the past had effectively seized him by the balls.

A curse slipped from between his lips.