Word count: 1,000 words
Jessica James groaned and leaned back against the metal coated cement wall that her bed rested against. Her sister, Allison “Call me anything else and I'll kill you even if we are sisters” Peabody, sprayed the open cut the courier had gotten from her last delivery with antiseptic. The courier hissed through her teeth, muscles clamping up and making the pain a thousand times worse.
“You're lucky,” Allison muttered and began to bandage the injury. “Simple deliveries are never simple with you, are they?”
“I blame your husband,” Jessica growled and leaned against the cool brushed steel wall. Her eyes closed for a moment as she thought over the latest disaster of a delivery. If she didn't know better, she'd think Danny was trying to kill her. Allison wouldn't like that though, so that cut that option out.
Allison snorted and left the room quietly. She knew her sister, younger than her by four years, had issues with her rather cowardly husband. The man had been brave and courageous once. Then he had met her family of three brothers and her sister. That alone had nearly scared the boy into running off. Fortunately for her, unfortunately for him, her mother had managed to tie him up and get the two of them to Vegas. They had been married within three hours of meeting the family.
“Danny, dearest,” her voice carried and echoed off the metallic walls of the house/business her family lived in. Everyone in the James family had something to do with the business. Jessica and her eldest brother, Michael, were couriers. Michael focused on the international deliveries while Jessica did domestic only after the incident with the CIA, NSA, and the UN. Her sister wasn't leaving the relative safety of the US anytime soon. The family was still intercepting assassins from Sealand.
“In the garage!” Danny's voice called from the front of the house/business. She could hear another person talking to him. That had to be her one of her other brothers, most likely the gear-head Jonathan. That boy had loved cars, bikes and anything else that had the capability of going over 30 miles per hour. Allison, the only relatively sane person in the family, blamed their mother.
Allison poked her head through the door that connected the rather extensive garage to the rest of the small building the family called home and ran the courier business from. Like she thought, Jonathan was fixing up Jessica's Magnabike the courier affectionately called her baby. With a shake of her head at the scratched paint, torn seat, and pierced after-market projection shield. That's what had slipped her sister up. She wouldn't have been injured if the gang banger's buddies hadn't been such good shots and taken out the shield. The lucky idiot had managed to tag her with a rather wicked knife wound before her sister beat the ever living snot out of him.
“I'll have it fixed by tonight, Danny,” Jonathan reassured her husband. Danny nodded and turned to look at his wife.
She grinned and shook her head. “Jessica'll be good in a few days. No runs until then. You do know she blames you for this.”
A sighed and a hand hand through his short, slightly graying hair. “She's going to kill me, isn't she?”
“Not directly,” Allison smiled tightly. “She knows that would anger me, and she doesn't want to anger her medic.”
“That does not reassure me,” Danny grumbled as he gave his wife a loose embrace. “So, she's out for a few days. Should I call Sam off his vacation?”
“Only if we have outstanding deliveries,” she smiled saucily at him. “Sam would kill you.”
Sam, the youngest male in the family, had more problems than the rest of the James family put together. He really didn't do anything for Black Wisp Couriers except cause problems. Truthfully, the man was in charge of advertising, but rarely did his job. Instead he spent most of his time divided between the bars in the area, the brothels, and the jail. Allison and Jessica were both prepared to leave their idiot of a brother to rot in prison should he go too far in his pursuit of mortal pleasures. Sam was the main reason Danny had been made acting owner of Black Wisp, the business that had been started by their mother and father over 50 years ago when the postal service had first crumbled. Michael and Jessica had been too good out in the field to keep behind a desk. Allison had her EMT training and taken up position of family medic. She helped when and where she could, but her focus stayed elsewhere. Jonathan had his engines, not to mention that at the time he spent time on the racing circuit with permission from their mother.
Then there was Sam. The boy, even at 23 he was still more boy than man, spent all his time laying about, spent all night out partying, and spent most mornings in the local drunk tank. Mother James, before her death, had demanded he change, go into rehab for his problems, or he would never inherit the business no matter how good he was at managing it when he was sober.
That Danny owned the place was telling.
“And you would be first in line to kill him,” he smiled and kissed her lightly. “That is if I didn't take him down with me.”
“You are the best shot in the family,” she smiled. “Of course, you can't hold yourself in a fight.”
“Which is why I do logistics and run everything else from here while Michael and Jessica do the actual runs,” he chuckled as he moved around her to the door. “I'll be in the office if you need me.”
“Remember to eat dinner. It's on the stove,” she reminded him.
Jonathan laughed as the door shut behind his sister. “He still doesn't eat enough for you. He's gained 20 pounds since he married you, sis.”
Allison rolled her eyes and turned to go check on the medical supplies. “Oh, get to work, Johnny.”
A smirk crawled across her face as she heard the shout behind her. “Don't call me Johnny!”