by RJ Blain
“We have a security detail for that. We’ve had at least two armed shadows since the shooting.”
I sighed again while Pauline reassembled the weapon before sliding a magazine into place. “It’s so pretty.”
Lieutenant Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but it does take a bit of time to fill out the paperwork. Dr. Sampson, if you’d please come with me?”
All three doctors rose to their feet and excused themselves, leaving me with Jake and his parents. Pauline lifted the holster by its straps and swung the weapon back and forth.
I traced its gentle arc while Jake secured his hold on my shoulders. “I want it, Jake.”
“I know you do. We’ll get you your own soon,” he soothed, letting go of my left shoulder to circle his arm over my chest. “Please don’t do anything crazy, Karma. I don’t want to get banned from flying back to the United States. I want to go home, and the sooner you’re better—without sliding into a homicidal rage thanks to poorly chosen medications—the sooner we get to go home.”
I straightened my back, pulling away from him enough I could stare into Jake’s eyes. “When are we going home?”
“As soon as those three fiends clear you for air travel. You need to be able to last fifteen hours without—”
“Book us now,” I demanded.
Jake gaped at me, blinking several times. “What?”
I flexed my hands, welcoming the pain in my shoulder. “I have some questions I want to ask once we’re back in the United States,” I ground out through clenched teeth.
Lowering the Glock to the table, Pauline released the weapon so she could prop her chin in her hand. She cleared her throat. “Have you forgotten I’m in upper management in the FBI, Karma?”
I narrowed my eyes at Jake’s mother, wondering if I was prepared to cross a lot of lines. Did it matter if I was home or overseas?
The anger that sent me to the airport to buy a flight to Morocco revived. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“I can address any and all of your concerns.”
“I would like to deal with my own problems without circumventing protocol and the chain of command.” My first job would be to discover who had filed the complaint responsible for me having my firearm confiscated in the first place. Once I learned who and why, I’d figure out what I’d do about it.
I also had to think long and hard over the London shooting and sort out what were actual memories or hallucinations induced by blood loss. Without the drugs hampering my ability to think, I was puzzled no one had questioned me about what I knew of the shooting.
Then again, there were enough holes in my memories of the shooting and recovery it was entirely possible I had already been questioned without remembering a minute of it.
Jake chuckled and rested his chin on my shoulder. “You might buy your way into her good graces if you give her your gun, Mom. Otherwise, I’m not sure she’ll bend in the slightest. When she gets like this, there’s no point in fighting with her over it. She won’t be happy until she has a chance to handle her problems on her own.”
“Jake, why are you clinging to me?”
“I love my mother and do not want my beautiful wife killing her.”
I frowned. “I thought we weren’t supposed to discuss Ohio.”
“A little too late for that. She found the marriage papers. She has absolutely no regard for personal property or my privacy, apparently.”
“You brought them into my house, James Thomas. You only have yourself to blame. If you hadn’t left your jacket on my floor, I wouldn’t have found them.” Jake’s mother arched a brow.
“That was stupid, Jake.”
“I know, but you’d run away from me. I was stressed and worried. Mom threatened to shoot me if I tried to leave the house. I didn’t want to find out if she meant it.”
Pauline snorted. “I did no such thing.”
With a wicked grin, Jake’s father clasped his hands in front of him on the table and leaned towards me. “She pistol whipped him when he tried to leave to find you. She’s telling the truth. She didn’t bother with the threats. She knocked him out cold and, to make sure he didn’t cause her any more problems, she handcuffed him to the kitchen island. Then she told him he was banned from leaving the house to chase after you. He would have, too.”
I gaped at Jake’s mother. “You didn’t!”
“She did,” Jake grumbled, leaning his considerable weight on my back. I grunted and struggled to keep upright. “It was terrible. I was pistol whipped upside the head by my own mother. You should take pity on me.”
“Why would I do that?” I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening. “Oh, God. Jake? Do my parents know?”
“I’m pretty sure they know.”
“We’re dead,” I informed him.
“I’m pretty sure they intend to keep you alive. It’s me I’m worried about. I’ve had to talk to them every day since they returned to the United States. I guess you don’t remember trying to talk to them on the phone, do you?”
“I talked to them? What did I say?” I whispered.
“While I appreciate how much you adore me, Karma, did you really have to give them the details of our sex life?” Jake sighed. “I warned them not to put you on Demerol. I warned them what would happen. I told them you developed the most horrific language known on Earth. I told them you had no filters and had a tendency to become homicidal. If you aren’t trying to kill someone, you’re cursing them out and telling them exactly what you think. Did anyone listen to me? No. Your parents stopped asking to talk to you after that. I’m surprised they’re still talking to me at all after learning exactly what we had been doing. Unfortunately, my parents were also in the room at the time, so even if they hadn’t found the marriage certificate, you blew it.”
I hung my head and groaned. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to find a place to hide and stay there until I die of old age.”
“Everything will be okay,” Jake promised.
I had my doubts, but I kept them to myself.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I refused to wear the sling, and when Mr. Dr. Sampson threatened to jab me with a needle he pulled out of his coat and dose me with painkillers, it took Jake and his father working together to keep me from fleeing. Mrs. Dr. Sampson and Dr. Sampson watched in amusement.
“I’m rather awed, actually. You’d think we were trying to kill her,” Mrs. Dr. Sampson observed. “Dear, stop tormenting the poor woman. I think it’s obvious she’s recovered sufficiently to decide if she wants painkillers. Prescribe pills and give them to her husband in case she needs them.”
“Keep them away from me,” I begged, grabbing Jake’s shirt and twisting the material in my hands. “I try to kill people when they give me drugs. Stop them.”
“Could you please stop trying to make my wife kill people?” Jake demanded. “Leave her alone.”
While I appreciated my partner snarling at the doctors in his effort to get them to leave, there was something disconcerting about the tension in his body and the way he was poised to act. I’d seen him in combat situations often enough to recognize the same alertness and readiness to take action.
For the first time since meeting him, I was relieved Jake wasn’t armed.
“He might not be carrying right now, but my partner has a really mean right hook and watches my back,” I stated, tightening my hold on Jake’s clothes. “Please stop with the drugs. I don’t want them. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“All right, that’s enough. She’s made her opinion clear. Thank you for your help, doctors. I’ll take it from here,” Jake’s mother announced, clapping her hands together. “If you could forward the documentation to the United States, I’ll handle getting them home. I’ll take care of the flight arrangements when we’re ready to head back.”
Melissa chuckled. “I’ll take care of it, Mrs. Thomas. Mom, Dad, let’s go. I don’t know about you two, but I do have other patients.”
“You don’
t have to get mean about it, Melissa,” Mr. Dr. Sampson complained, capping the syringe.
“Why are you calling me mean? We’re in the cafeteria of a British military installation. You’re torturing an FBI agent because you can. At least I only torment people under orders. You’re just getting in a last jab for the fun of it.”
Jake, his mother, and his father groaned.
“You’re encouraging her,” I muttered.
“She’s right, you know,” my psychologist agreed with laughter in her voice. “Take care of yourself, Karma. I’ll be checking in with you in a few weeks.”
I sucked in a breath and brought my right hand to my chest. “Please, no.”
Melissa laughed, waved, and herded her parents to the door. The three doctors left, and I sighed my relief, leaning towards Jake and going limp against him. “Sweet baby Jesus, I never thought they’d stop.”
Jake laughed. “I could really learn to like the Brits. They’re trying so hard to be polite. Back home? Open betting.”
“I’m pretty sure they were making bets; they’re just more discreet about it. Up, up,” Jake’s mother ordered, clapping her hands together. “It’s a bit of a drive back to the hotel.”
Before I had a chance to get to my feet, Jake worked his hands beneath me and rose, picking me up. I gaped at him, clutching at his shirt so he wouldn’t drop me. “Damnit, Jake!”
“But you’re so pretty when you’re angry.”
“Just because you took advantage of your waivers to break the rules does not mean you get to openly fraternize at a government installation, James Thomas,” his mother scolded. “Stop flirting and put her down.”
Heaving a sigh, Jake set me on my feet. “We should elope, Karma. Run away while we can.”
“We already tried that. You left the papers where your mother could find them,” I reminded him, smoothing my clothes. Once I was presentable, I systematically stretched from head to toe. It wouldn’t keep the stiffness at bay for long; I’d need to keep working to restore all I’d lost, but I didn’t need a physical therapist to tell me the basics.
The stint at the firing range had done more than relieve stress. I resented how I tired so easily, I hated the weakness in my muscles, and I hated the knowledge I wasn’t anywhere near my prime.
“Come along, kids. We’ll have dinner at the hotel. Your forays to the hospital are enough to give your security detail nightmares. They’re going to panic when they find out they have to protect you at the airport.”
“What sort of doctors abandon their patient without checking to make sure she didn’t ruin her shoulder firing a rocket launcher?” I demanded, stomping my foot. “And what sort of physical therapist doesn’t even bother to give me a schedule or exercises?”
“Karma likes her physical therapy strict, routine, and under a defined schedule. She will also expect me to be at every session. If she has to suffer, so do I.”
Pauline herded us towards the exit. “If you’re quite done playing, let’s go. We have things to do.”
It took an hour to reach the castle. I would have preferred a chance to shower and change, but Jake’s mother was on a mission. British hospitality only went so far, and I was well aware of the other diners in the hotel’s elegant restaurant staring at me.
I didn’t blame them. Gunpowder, oil from handling firearms, and sweat caked me in equal proportions. Black marks stained my hands, and I fled to the bathroom to scrub the worst of them away.
Pauline tailed me as though worried I’d climb out the window and make a run for it. If I could have fit, I might’ve tried.
“How is your shoulder feeling?”
I glanced at the window and sighed. My relationship with my mother-in-law hadn’t started on the best foot, and my being responsible for her son’s close brush with death didn’t help matters any.
Dr. Sampson was right. I’d have to face everything eventually, including making sense of my fragmented memories.
“It hurts, but it’s tolerable.” Tolerable was a flexible word. I wasn’t really lying; until I was at the point I was crying or screaming from the pain, I’d be able to cope.
“My son told me you don’t remember much about what happened.”
I shrugged and winced at the increased throbbing. I stared at my hands and scrubbed, hoping the sink wouldn’t be too much of a mess when I was finished. The soap wasn’t as good at cutting through the mess as I liked. “No one has questioned me yet?”
Laughing, Jake’s mother grabbed a towel from the basket beside the sink and held it out to me. I took an extra minute and made one last ditch effort to get any remaining residue off in the hope the linen wouldn’t end up ruined. “If you haven’t been asleep, you’ve been either screaming profanities or attempting murder. Who knew you had such adverse and unique reactions to medications?”
“Jake knows. I definitely don’t remember any of that.”
“He knew about the Demerol, but not the others. He did try to warn them.”
I was still amazed they had managed to get Jake to leave the room. My fragments of memory supported my belief my partner had resisted every attempt to evict him from our room. His absence had probably been necessary so the three doctors could experiment with my medications without him getting in the way.
I’d have to thank him for his efforts later.
“Is it true my parents have been talking to Jake?”
The woman’s sigh worried me. “I’m sorry, Karma. I’m pretty sure after the call when you were on Demerol, they’re just going through the motions to maintain appearances. You… were very vocal.”
I took the towel, turned, and leaned against the sink, watching Pauline. The woman’s expression was serious, and I really didn’t like the hint of pity in her eyes. “Explain, please.”
“Well, I learned you were really upset that your mother had slapped my son. I mean, I can’t say I haven’t taken my shots at the little shit. I did pistol whip him and handcuff him in my kitchen, after all. Now, granted, I was preventing him from committing a string of crimes certain to land him in a lot of trouble. He’s usually good at curbing his reckless impulses, but not when it comes to you. He forgave me for restraining him after a couple of days. Anyway, you were very, very detailed about your relationship with him. While I’m quite proud of my child, there are some things a mother doesn’t need to know—his skills in bed are near the top of the list. Then you explained, at length, how there was nothing wrong with him, and that he didn’t need to have the sin beat out of him, too.”
I felt the blood drain out of my face and work its way down to my feet, leaving me cold and shivering. “Oh, shit.”
“You then explained, in detail, how you intended to deal with anyone who put their hands on your husband. It was very graphic, and that was about the time my son attempted to intervene. I did find it rather amusing you claimed it was your exclusive right to drill a hole in his toe and rip his intestines out through it. Do I even want to know? I was very impressed by how determined you were to start killing people. Sebastian had to help contain you. At that point, I decided it might be a good time to hang up the phone.”
I tossed the towel in the bin with the rest of the dirtied linens. “I really don’t remember any of that.”
“The general consensus was that you likely wouldn’t remember. Your doctors gave a long explanation, but I ignored most of it. I couldn’t spell half the words they were using, which made looking them up in the dictionary difficult.”
“I can only imagine.”
“I’d like you to answer one question for me, Karma. I’ll leave you alone about the rest unless you want to talk about it.”
There was only one good thing about the conversation; I could mark off a bathroom interrogation by my partner’s mother from my bucket list. Bracing myself for the worst, I replied, “Ask away.”
“What did you mean when you told your mother my son didn’t need the sin beaten out of him?”
I had stepped into my personal hell,
and I couldn’t see a single way out of admitting the truth. While I could have refused to answer, I got the feeling Pauline wouldn’t let it go until she found out what had happened when I had been a child.
In a way, the idea of telling someone lifted a weight off my shoulders. Telling her the truth wouldn’t hurt me.
After all, they had only been dreams.
“I wasn’t an easy child,” I replied, shrugging. “Ma and Pops were determined to raise a little princess.”
“That is never a reason to beat a child.”
“I bit Pops hard enough to draw blood. I don’t really remember it, but that was the same day I got bit by a fox and ended up needing rabies shots.” I shrugged. “I deserved to have my hide tanned.”
“Then why phrase it as having the sin beaten out of you?”
Tilting my head to the side, I tried to figure out what Jake’s mother was trying to hint at. “Because we lived in Georgia?”
She blinked. “Georgia?”
“Ma believes in wearing her Sunday best to church. How else would I phrase it?”
Some things Jake’s mother didn’t need to know, and the fact I had dreamed of becoming a fox was one of them. For all I knew, she might want to beat the sin out of me, too. But despite everything, I felt the need to defend my ma. “I wasn’t an easy child to raise. Apparently, I was pretty obsessed with foxes, and I liked imitating the sounds they made. Not a good combination when Ma and Pops took us to church every service. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
Dinner went by in a blur. I ached, my shoulder hurt, but my worries over Jake’s mother believing Ma and Pops no longer wanted anything to do with me consumed my thoughts. I ate enough to appease Jake and spent the rest of the meal moving my potatoes around my plate while pretending to pay attention to the conversation around me.
Near the end of the meal, while Jake and his parents were engaged in a debate over procedures for handling violent crimes, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.