International Guy: Volume 4

by Carlan, Audrey

  “Did the police find Benny?”

  “Singleton? Not yet, but since he was a suspect and there was a bomb involved, not to mention the fire in a public building, they got a warrant and raided his place. Didn’t find anything bomb related, but they did find a ton of pictures of you at various stages in your life all over his walls. The dude was definitely stalking you. They’ve got units out looking for him.”

  “So, he could be the bomber and is definitely my stalker.”

  She shrugs. “Looks that way. Until the evidence says otherwise, that’s the angle the cops are looking into at this point. They’ll want to speak with you and Parker again once he wakes up. The doctors have put them off for the time being.”

  Once I’ve paced until I’ve calmed down, I go back to sit at Parker’s side. “This is all such a mess. I don’t know how this can even be my life. Everything just escalated.”

  Behind us, the door opens, and Mr. and Mrs. Ellis enter. The second I see Parker’s mother, I burst into tears all over again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” I sob into my hands, but before I know it, I’m surrounded by warmth and love. The scent of wildflowers filters around me, and I breathe it in while clutching the woman who’s slowly becoming a female figure I look up to.

  “Sunshine, you get that nonsense out of your head right this instant.” Cathy rubs the back of my head while I snuggle right into the crook of her neck and cry big, heaving sobs.

  For a long time, this amazing woman holds me and fills my mind with whispered words of comfort and love. She expresses repeatedly that it’s not my fault, that bad things happen to good people all the time. Cathy tells me she loves me and that we’ll get through this hard patch as a family.

  A family.

  There’s that word again. The one word I’ve not known in far too many years. Now I have it in spades. With Parker, his parents, his brothers, Wendy, Mick, Rachel, and Nate . . .

  Another sob wracks my frame. “Nate might die.” I continue crying into her shoulder.

  “There, there,” she coos. “We’ll pray real hard to the Heavenly Father that he will take mercy on that strapping young lad and heal him from the inside out. That’s all we can do, my dear Sunshine.”

  I pull my head out from the comfort of Cathy’s hold. “W-will you pray with me? For Nate? For Parker?”

  She smiles softly and cups my cheeks. “Of course I will, my dear.” She brings my head toward her and places a kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and let the serenity that is a mother’s love seep into my soul.

  Wendy moves aside so that Cathy can sit at her son’s side. Cathy grabs his hand, reaches for mine as I sit in the chair right next to them, and closes her eyes.

  “Heavenly Father, we come to you today to ask for your love and mercy. We ask that you spread your healing powers to my son Parker and our dear friend Nathan as they try to come back from this horrendous attack. Let your will be the outcome, and let us as your children have the capacity and understanding to accept whatever decision is made. We pray to you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  “Amen,” I whisper, holding Cathy’s hand tight because I’m afraid to let it go.

  “Mom?” A croaky sound comes from the bed. “Baby?” Parker’s voice sounds like his throat has been put through a meat processor. “Why you prayin’ over me? I’m not dead.”

  Before I can even react, Cathy squeezes my hand, looks at me, and says, “God works fast.” She smiles up at the ceiling and then back at my man. “You scared the living daylights out of our girl here, not to mention your momma.”

  “Sky, baby,” he croaks, and tries to clear his throat but can’t.

  I move so fast I think I may knock Mrs. Ellis out of the way in my need to express my relief and love. I put a knee on Parker’s bed, lean over, grasp his cheeks, and kiss his dry lips hard.

  He accepts the kiss, but I’m not done. I press my forehead to his and breathe deeply. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, Parker James Ellis,” I whisper against his lips, and then proceed to kiss every inch of his face I can touch that’s not covered in a bandage with a series of “I love yous” mixed in between kisses.

  “Sunshine, my goodness, give the boy some room to breathe!” Cathy pats my back and helps me ease off the bed, but I don’t take my eyes off Parker.

  He drowsily smirks and accepts the pink cup of water his dad brings near his face. He sucks down the water as though he’s a man who’s been stuck in the desert for a few days, not lying in a hospital bed for the last several hours.

  “Thanks, Pops.”

  His dad’s voice is thick when he pats him on the shoulder. “Good to see you awake and on the mend, son.”

  Cathy leans over the bed and kisses her son on the forehead. “My boy.” She sighs and caresses his cheek. “Happy to have you back, darling.”

  Parker pushes on the bed with his fists and shifts his body up with a massive groan and a wince. “Jesus Christ, that hurts. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, and a band of horns is blaring in my head.” He lifts one hand to touch the side of his head that’s covered by a bandage.

  “Nope, explosion. Concussion. Two head lacerations with eighteen stitches just above your temple and into your hairline.” Wendy states his medical ailments like she’s listing out the ingredients for the dinner she’s about to cook. “Oh, and your ribs and sternum are bruised, but nothing too serious there.”

  “Is that all?” Parker asks dryly.

  She grins. “Happy to see your face, Bossman.”

  He sighs and smiles, leaning his head back against the pillow his mother is fluffing for him. “I’m happy it’s here to be seen. Now who’s going to update me on Nate’s condition?”

  2

  PARKER

  Skyler’s beautiful brown eyes glaze over with tears when I ask about Nate.

  “Fuck no,” I grate out, barely able to recognize my own voice through the incessant ringing in my ears. At least I can hear everything, unlike before. All I can imagine is the worst, that we lost a friend tonight. A man who was protecting me and what’s mine.

  My girl reaches for my hands and shakes her head as twin tears fall down her cheeks. “No, baby, he’s not gone. He’s in surgery, but that’s all we know. It’s been just over six hours since we arrived.”

  I grind my teeth and breathe through the pain in my chest and head, letting the fear recede and reality weave in. “I’ve been out for six hours?”

  Sky bites down on her bottom lip and nods.

  “Did the cops catch the guy?” I ease my pounding head back against the pillows. My mother runs her fingers through my hair, and it feels so damn good I could almost squeeze out a tear. She hums softly, and that sound is as familiar as my favorite song and drowns out some of the ringing. My mother is one of the most comforting people in the world. Her touch, the sound of her voice humming a tune, remind me of when I was sick as a boy and she took care of me.

  Wendy steps up and puts her hand on my toes above the covers, shaking my foot a little. “They’re looking for Benny Singleton to question him. The cops want to talk to you more about uh . . .” She looks from my mother to my father, and her voice falters enough that I know she has more to say but doesn’t want to in mixed company. “. . . the explosion and the fire.”

  My father, ever aware of the situation becoming heavy in the room, takes that moment to announce his need for coffee. “Come on, Cathy, let’s give them some space to get up to date while we grab a cup of joe.”

  Mom runs her fingers along my brow, and I close my eyes. “You’re perfectly capable of getting coffee by yourself. You don’t need me—”

  “Woman.” My father’s tone brooks no argument. “Can’t you see they want to talk alone? Without their parents hanging over their shoulders?”

  I open my eyes in time to see Ma looking affronted, her head jerking back with the drama of a woman who’s about to lay a person out with a piece of her mind, none of it good.

&nbs
p; My father takes her hand and tugs her toward the door. “Come on, my love, you can yell at me on the way.”

  “Don’t think for a second I won’t.” Her gaze narrows at my father with laser-like accuracy.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grins and winks at me, then smiles at Skyler and Wendy.

  “Sweetheart, I’ll be back soon. Do you want anything from the cafeteria? You must be hungry . . .” Before I can answer, she waves her hand as if to cut me off. “I’ll just get you a little something. Maybe a sandwich, or a slice of pie. I’ll bet they have a good soup.”

  “Jesus, woman. He just woke up from being tossed by an explosion. I think the last thing on his mind is food.”

  My mother narrows her gaze, and her mouth tightens into a firm white line. “Food is the cure-all for everything, dear. You’d think you would know that since you own a pub. Sweet heavens above.” She shakes her head and walks through the door my father is holding open, murmuring heated words under her breath at him.

  I smile and watch them leave, but once the door shuts, I reach for my girl’s hand. “You okay?”

  Skyler swallows slowly, her eyes filling with tears once more.

  “Baby, don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry. It breaks me wide open.”

  The tears fall, and she sits by my side, close enough for me to cup her wet cheek and wipe away her tears with my thumb. She holds my hand against her cheek, turns her head, and places a kiss in my palm. “I love you.” She whispers the words, but I can hear them clear as day, each syllable coating my soul with a much-desired healing balm.

  “I love you too, and baby, I’m going to be fine. Stop fretting, okay?”

  She nods but continues to hold my hand to her face, her breathing evening out as if simply touching me is easing her pain. I know that’s what it’s doing for me.

  I turn my gaze to my feisty redheaded friend. “Wendy, tell me what you know. The whole truth.”

  For the next twenty minutes, Wendy updates me on what she found through her hacking and going over the information with my brother.

  “Bring Paul in,” I snap, my frustration getting the best of me.

  Instead of blistering me with a bitchy comeback, Wendy hops to it. She knows this situation has hit DEFCON 1, and no amount of ribbing or humor is going to ease the strain.

  Paul enters, looking as though he’s ready to go into battle. Fatigues, sans the jacket, black tee, boots, and his tags clearly visible. He crosses his massively muscled arms over one another. “Glad you’re awake, bro. Knew you’d be okay.”

  “You been watching the door?” I ask while cocking a brow.

  He nods. “Keepin’ an eye on your woman too. Reporters and paps have already tried to sneak in. Hospital security is keeping the riffraff out, but they still attempt to disguise themselves.”

  I nod and squeeze Skyler’s hand where she’s now holding mine.

  “You think this is a black ops job?”

  Paul simply nods. No words are needed.

  “You on this?” I grit my teeth, the pounding in my temples increasing as my heart rate doubles.

  Another nod.

  “My gratitude,” I grate out, and clear my throat as best I can.

  “Not necessary. I’ve got some of my friends working intel with Wendy. The cops are scouting for one Benjamin Singleton, but, brother, I’ve gotta say, I’m not liking him for the explosion or the fire.”

  A battering ram could have struck me and it would have hurt less.

  I grit my teeth and breathe through the pain engulfing my frame as I get angrier by the second.

  Paul continues his theory. “Naw. My gut—and I’m usually right or I’d have been dead a dozen times over—”

  “How comforting,” I snark, wanting him to get to the point.

  “My gut says Benny’s not your guy. At least not for this. Doesn’t have what it takes to pull an operation of this magnitude off. I mean the guy’s been following Sky around like a long-lost puppy for years but just barely made a move. And a poor one at that. Delivering that second note, making a point to see her in the elevator, at the coffee shop. That’s child’s play, crush-type bullshit. This . . . bro, this shit is close to high level, but there’s still a naivete about it. It has all the signatures of true black ops or spec ops, but my gut tells me there’s only one person involved, and this is personal, not business or even a hired hit.”

  “Fuck!” I lean my head back as Skyler runs her hands down my arm.

  Paul continues. “And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but every bomb maker has their own signature. The type of wire, the twists, the metals used, the soldering method, the device—everything is planned out, and there are parts that are generally specific to one person. A calling card if you will.”

  “Okay, so how does that help us in this instance?”

  “For one, whoever did it set the bomb in place prior to the fire. It was set on a ten-second delay. A few moments after the key entered the lock and turned, it triggered the bomb, which was taped to the other side of the door. That means whoever did it would have expected you to be hit first. Unless they knew you and Skyler were together. If that’s the case, it would make sense that either Nate or Rachel would check the apartment before you entered. Taking out one or both of the bodyguards would hurt Sky but not kill her. If it were you who went there alone, it would take you out. Either way, both scenarios would break Skyler but not get her killed. Whoever it is wants you dead and her alive.”

  Skyler’s hands strangle my arm at the last part of my brother’s info dump.

  “What’s the next step?”

  “I’ve got one of my boys working on the bomber’s signature. That’s the best way to track the creator.”

  “And the cops?”

  Paul snickers. “You think they have the ability to hunt down a black ops bomber?” He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I’ve got this on lock. I’ll have more information in the next couple of days, if not sooner. And you”—he points to Skyler—“I’m on like flies on shit from here on out. Where you go, I go. Period. You feel me?”

  Skyler frowns. “But what about Nate and Rachel?” Her voice fills with emotion, and she gets choked up.

  “They’re out. I’m in. No one is going to blow up my brother’s apartment, set fire to his woman’s home, and try to take either of you out. Not on my watch. No way, no how. You gotta problem with that, sis?”

  “Sis?” She swallows, the word coming out a whisper.

  “You buying a house with my brother, adopting dogs, shacking up for the long haul?” he asks flatly.

  Her eyes are wide innocent pools focused on my brother’s scowling face. She nods and murmurs, “Uh-huh.”

  “Welcome to the family.” He grins a fox-like smile as the door opens, and a man in a white coat walks in.

  Before the doctor can say anything, Paul is in his face, a hand to his chest pushing the flustered man back toward the door.

  “Credentials. Now,” he growls.

  “Uh, uh, Dr. Perenski . . . ,” the man babbles, and tugs at his lapel where he has a picture of himself on a badge clearly listing his name and title.

  “Show me a second form of ID,” my brother demands in his scary-as-all-get-out bear growl, and I don’t stop him. Because for the first time ever, I realize that my apartment fucking exploded because someone wants me dead.

  Later that evening, I’m slurping down soup and chowing on a sandwich, staring into space while Skyler is in the window seat, curled in a little ball, finally asleep. My mother and father left with my assurances that I’d eat everything and do exactly as the doctors say. They also practically demanded Skyler and I stay with them once I get out, but I explained that, as much as I hate to admit it, their place isn’t secure enough for Skyler. Not to mention, if someone is out to kill me, the last place I’m going to lead them to is my parents’.

  Since the doctors are holding me overnight for observation, I have a little time to think about our next move. If I don’t do t
hat, I’ll obsess over Nate. We still haven’t heard anything, but a couple of hours ago, Royce, Wendy, and Bo couldn’t find Rachel in the waiting room, which likely means they called her back. Either that or they gave her concerning information. The doctors were mum about it, which put Wendy in a tailspin. Last I heard, she was having Mick bring her “red” laptop. The red one is the one she uses for all her funky poaching that she doesn’t talk to us about. Says it’s safer the less we know.

  I take the last sip of the cooling chicken soup I can choke down and push the tray to the side as the door opens and Rachel enters.

  “Hey . . .” I’m shocked to see her in the flesh. Her eyes are red rimmed, her hair back in a messy knot on her head. She’s wearing the same pants she wore earlier today, but her top is a bright-pink hospital scrub. It looks so out of place on her that I almost laugh. Except my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it throughout my entire body. Even the pain meds can’t dull this ache.

  She licks her lips and comes over to my side. “Nate survived.” Her voice is scratchy, and her gaze scans the room, noting Skyler asleep before she takes in my form. “You’re okay?”

  I nod. “How is he?” I whisper as her gaze jumps up to meet mine.

  She closes her eyes, and I can tell that she’s trying to be strong, but she doesn’t have to be. Not now. Not with us. Not when her whole world is lying in a hospital bed in the ICU.

  I lean far enough forward to reach her wrist and encircle it with my hand before tugging her closer. She starts to shake her head, but I bring her to sit on the side of my bed by my hip and wrap my arms around her. For a moment she’s as stiff as a board; then something inside her must crack, because her body convulses. Her head falls near my chest, forehead against my neck, and she clutches my sides as though her life depends on it. A keening cry leaves her, muffled by my neck as her tears soak my skin and hospital gown.

  Skyler wakes up from across the room and jumps to attention, then rushes over to us and, easing down next to Rachel on the bed, puts both of her hands on her friend’s shoulders. I hold Rachel as she cries hard. The pain in my chest is blistering, my head ready to burst with each throbbing pulse of my heartbeat, but I don’t care. I’ll take every inch of pain if it helps get her anguish out.