Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  A doctor came into the waiting area. “The family of Josie Conley?”

  Dean bolted out of his chair, rushing the doctor, the same as her mother and brother.

  “I’m her mother. This is her brother. And this is her,” she hesitated, as if searching for the right title, “boyfriend. How is Josie?”

  “She’s going to be fine. We managed to get the bullet. It nipped an artery but it was repairable. She lost a lot of blood, which she received a transfusion. It will take her a while to get back on her feet. Her body is still recovering from her stomach wounds. This will only add to that long process. But she will be okay,” the doctor assured them.

  “Can we see her?” Dean asked. His girl was going to be okay. She was resilient, just like Nick said. He hadn’t given her enough credit to pull through this. She’d done it before, and now she had done it again. God, he loved and admired her strong will.

  “Family only,” the doctor said.

  Mrs. Conley straightened. “He’s my daughter’s boyfriend and the detective who has been working on her case since day one. He held her hand when she’d first been attacked. You can’t keep him out.” She waved forward. “Now take me to my daughter.”

  They followed the grumbling doctor to the back of the ICU, where they were shown to a closed off glass room. Dean stepped in behind Josie’s family and stopped. The hospital bed dwarfed Josie’s tiny frame. A large machine hooked up to her mouth, helped her breathe. She was covered in blankets and tubes and IVs.

  Dean’s feet cemented in place. His mind went back to Erin, contorted in that car, death already had taken her. His breathing increased, his chest tightening. The sounds of the machines and Ms. Conley’s cries became muffled. The room spun vertically…

  ***

  “Dean, wake your pansy ass up,” a firm voice said. Fucking Jason.

  A pounding resounded in his head, like he’d been hit with a hammer, repeatedly.

  “Jason,” a feminine voice scolded. Hannah. “Don’t you dare call him a pansy ass.”

  “Babe, he passed out.”

  “Babe,” Hannah mocked, “you’re going to pass out too when I nail you in the balls for giving him a hard time.”

  Their bickering did not help his headache. He shot up, his eyes flying open, taking in his surroundings. Blood rushed to his head, a searing pain stabbing at him. Josie. He’d gone to seen Josie. What the hell happened?

  He groaned, grabbing his head.

  “Dean?” Hannah appeared in front of him, her face pasty, blue eyes wide, filled with surprise. She turned to Jason. “Go get a nurse. He needs aspirin or something.”

  His best friend huffed and left the room.

  “Josie.” He started to climb out of the bed.

  “Dean, you can't get up,” Hannah protested.

  He ignored her, trying to get his heavy limbs to cooperate with crawling out of the bed.

  Hannah decided it was her job to stop him, by sitting on him. “I can’t let you get out of bed until the doctor looks at you. Apparently, you hit your head pretty hard when you passed out. You probably have a concussion.”

  Dean looked down at her seated on his legs. “I need to see her.”

  “You will. As soon as you get checked out.”

  Dean ran a hand down his face, his faculties quickly returning. “Hannah, get off me.”

  “No can do.”

  Dean snickered. “You really are a giant pain in the ass. Please tell me she’s doing okay.”

  Hannah’s features softened. “She is. She’s doing great. She’s not awake yet, but they’re keeping her sedated while on the ventilator. I believe they plan to take her off soon.”

  He laid back, closing his eyes. He understood why he passed out. Mentally his mind couldn’t handle the sight of Josie in the hospital bed again, knowing what she’d been through. To have the two women he’d loved in his life both suffer was too much for him. His mind protected itself. Medically, he knew what happened. He’d seen it countless times. Though that didn’t mean that he accepted the fact he had to briefly check out.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Two hours,” Hannah answered, climbing off him.

  Holy hell.

  “Just so you know, Jason plans on kicking your ass. He’s holding you responsible for my involvement in Josie’s case and he says that only a pansy passes out.”

  He looked to Hannah who was grinning.

  “Are you all right, Hannah?” He hoped to God she didn’t torture herself.

  She looked down at her belly. “We’re fine.”

  “I meant you.”

  “I know what you meant. And I said we’re fine,” she snapped.

  “That’s convincing,” he said dryly.

  She spoke softly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Only Jason gets my confessions. And Roy.”

  “Thank you,” Dean said, truly meaning the words. “Thank you for being there to save her.”

  She didn’t reply, her tired features solemn.

  The doctor came into the room, Jason on his heels. Hannah quietly slipped out of the room.

  “You bumped your head pretty good.” The doctor tapped away at the laptop keys on the portable cart. “CAT scan says you have a concussion. I’m going to send you to a specialist.”

  “Can I get out of here to go see my girlfriend?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. How weird did the term girlfriend sound coming from a man edging closer to forty?

  “We’ll get an aide to take you down,” the doctor said firmly, not to be trifled with. “I’m keeping you the night because you were out for a couple hours.”

  “You can keep an eye on me from Josie’s bedside.” Dean slipped into his pants. He needed to get to Josie’s side and nothing, not even a concussion was going to prevent him from being next to her.

  “Dean, we need to talk,” Jason said gravely.

  His head snapped up. “What is it? Is it Josie? I thought she was going to be all right?”

  Panic slithered through him as he shoved his feet into his shoes.

  “She’ll be fine,” Jason said somber. “I need you to sit.”

  “Campbell, what the hell is going on?”

  The doctor exited the room without another word. Odd.

  “It’s Erin,” his best friend said.

  “What about Erin?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Becky admitted that she caused Erin’s accident,” Jason said.

  Dean blinked. He certainly didn’t hear Jason correctly. “That can’t be true. She died in a car accident. She wasn’t murdered.”

  “Becky used to be an alcoholic. She had been drinking and driving that night and ran Erin’s car off the road. She cut her off, causing Erin to swerve. Hannah heard her admission, Dean. She heard the woman’s entire confession. She blamed Erin, stating that she shouldn’t have been out on the road. Becky collected those newspaper clippings found in the Ohio house, not Harry.” Jason’s brow was drawn tight with sadness, grief weighing down his frown. “I’m so sorry, man. I know how hard it’s been for you and how much you’ve come to grips with the accident as of late.”

  Dean couldn’t process the information. He just couldn’t comprehend what was being told to him. “I don’t understand.”

  Jason placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know. I know.”

  Dean felt droplets fall down his face. “My Erin.”

  Jason’s eyes filled, the tears overflowing. His best friend, who’d been by his side for the worst moment of his life had no words.

  “She killed my Erin?”

  Jason could only nod.

  Dean lost it right there in the hospital room. His agony bubbling over. He cried and screamed into his best friend’s shoulder for his wife and his unborn son. For the years he lost and for the years he mourned. For the years his wife never got to experience and for the light that his son never got to see. He wanted to kill Becky all over again.

  34

  Josie’s body tried to climb. Or mayb
e crawl. Or claw. Yeah, claw better described her need to pull herself up. Out of the deep fog that wanted to yank her back down into darkness that threatened to consume her. She pushed against the tempting deep hole that lured her. She didn’t want to conform to the blackness. But her body was so heavy, like a weight held her down. She drifted, drowning in sleep. Why was she so tired?

  An acute sting hit her nose. A potent scent. Clean and harsh. Bleach.

  Soft unfamiliar noises, a beeping, and murmurs she suddenly became aware of. A throbbing grew in her head, not taking residence, instead assaulting her. She moaned at the pain and tried to lift her hand. She couldn’t. Something weighed down her right arm. She tried her left. A strong, warm hand slid into hers and entangled their fingers, stroking the back of her hand.

  This sensation seemed too familiar.

  A rush of memories hurled at her. Harry. Becky. Hannah. Dean. A scorching pain after being shot. Hannah fighting Becky. Dean saving her life. Looking up into those hazel eyes as Dean held her hand, again. His voice rough, choking on his own tears. Begging her to fight. The pain in her chest, not from the gunshot, but from the fact that she might not make it and leave him alone. Again. Devastating him. Again.

  “Josie.” Dean’s voice washed over her, bathing her in his strength, letting her know he was by her side. He gave her something to cling to. An anchor in the world that had collapsed around her.

  She blinked her eyes open, the light stinging her vision.

  “Josie.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat. His handsome face was suddenly in front of hers. His red-rimmed eyes and harshly shadowed features showed the stress he bore.

  “Dean,” she croaked, and began to cry. Her body wrenching and writhing, unable to control her tears, the pain of her muscle contracting piercing her like she was being stabbed again. But the pain meant she was alive. She survived.

  “You’re going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.” He showered her face with kisses. “You’re okay.”

  She lost herself in a cathartic release. How long she cried she didn’t know. But all her emotions came out. The loss of her brother, in every sense of the word. How her own flesh and blood tried to kill her with his bare hands. They’ll never understand the why or get a full explanation from him. He’ll never be able to repent or ask for forgiveness. David lost his twin. Josie, her younger brother. Her mother, a son. How was her family ever going to recuperate? And then there was Dean. Even the look on his face now said how much torture the possibility of losing her had put on him. He’d been through so much hell. Josie never expected him to open his heart to anyone again. Yet, somehow she had broken through his impenetrable exterior. He loved her. But would that change with the new knowledge of his wife’s untimely death?

  “Dean,” she sputtered. “Erin. I’m so sorry.”

  “I know. Jason told me. Hannah heard everything.” He rested his head on their entwined hands. “I don’t know what to believe. Becky wasn’t a reliable source of information. No, there was no reason for her confess to being a part of Erin’s accident. But I can’t be sure she was telling the truth. My best guess is the police psychologist will determine she’s an antisocial psychopath, maybe even attaching herself to the accident she didn’t commit. Unfortunately, we’ll never know for certain if her admission was truthful.”

  Josie tried to squeeze his hand in support but the motion came up short. Her limbs held virtually no strength.

  Where did Becky’s confession leave them? Did it take Dean back to the walking-zombie he’d been for years? Would it change how he felt about her? Could he still love her in spite of the information he now knew but couldn’t entirely accept?

  Dean lifted his head.

  “I have a reason to let Erin go, Josie. You’re my reason. I love you.” He kissed her lips. “You need lip balm.”

  She tried to laugh but it hurt.

  Despite the fact he’d confessed his feelings to her numerous times, she remained remote, unable to let her guard down. Afraid that her admission would cause him to change. That he’d become like the other men in her life. Resenting her success or trying to take over her business and her life. Dean wouldn’t demean himself by harboring misplaced jealousy. He wouldn’t grow to resent her salon, he’d help her. He’d already shown that by fixing broken fixtures, replacing light bulbs, unclogging drains, replacing cracked floor tiles, all while he’d been watching her closely when she’d gone into work.

  She looked at Dean. Truly looked at him. He was everything she could ever want in a partner. She was her dream guy. And because of who his friends were, essentially an extension of him, he and them saved her.

  “I love you,” she whispered, her throat aching.

  His sharp inhale was more visible than audible. “I love you, Josie. With all my heart, I love you.”

  Epilogue

  Dean snatched the box out of his newlywed wife’s hands. She still had a weight lifting restriction. “You sit down. Jason, his dad and I will get the boxes. Why don’t you keep Hannah company?”

  Josie looked over her shoulder out the open door at Hannah, her features falling. Dean’s gaze followed her direction. Hannah looked as if she was smuggling a basketball under her maternity shirt. Nothing but belly. Dean knew what was running through Josie’s mind. She wasn’t allowed to get pregnant for a while. Too much internal healing remained and the doctors warned her not to attempt having children for at least a year. She’d been so disappointed. She had wanted to start a family with him. Part of him would never admit out loud to anyone that he was a bit relieved they had to delay baby-making. He wanted to enjoy this time with his wife and help her heal. Mentally and physically.

  “I’ll get you a bottle of water,” she said, zipping to the kitchen.

  “Where do you want this box?” Jason asked, stepping into the living room.

  “It’s marked bedroom, jackass,” Dean mocked. “In big black marker on all four sides of the box.”

  Jason raised his middle finger through his grip and stomped up the stairs with the box. Josie came back into the living room with a handful of bottles.

  “Did you decide what you’re going to put into storage?” Dean asked.

  They had purchased a new home. New carpet. Newly painted walls. New living room furniture. Everything a fresh start, a change out of necessity, for Josie to mentally heal. Out with the old, in with the new. If the shooting hadn’t happened, he may have kept his own house as a shrine to his first wife. Instead he turned it into a rental property. In a sick, twisted way, the incident forced him to box up everything Erin had used to decorate their home. And he was turning it all over to his wife.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, chewing on her top lip.

  “Honey, whatever it is you want to box up, just put it in a container and tell me to take to the storage unit. I want you to be happy.” He placed his hands on his shoulders, bending to make direct eye contact to express his sincerity.

  Hannah waddled into the house, Mr. Campbell behind her carrying a box. “You need to work on that thing that’s called a flowerbed. It’s nothing but weeds and snake holes.”

  Dean drilled her with an annoyed glare. “Shush.”

  “Just doing my part to help out my new girlfriend.” Hannah flopped down on sofa.

  Josie handed her a bottle of water.

  “I’ll go through the items, Dean. We’re not in any rush,” she finally said.

  He snagged her around the waist and kissed her soundly. He didn’t want to say they had the rest of their lives together. He’d learned the hard lessons of life that a man never knew what tomorrow might bring. Plus, he didn’t want to tick off the universe by challenging her power.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  “I’ll help you,” Hannah said, twisting open the cap on the bottle. “It’ll give me something to do. My husband has practically cocooned me in bubble wrap. I’m virtually activity-less.”

  “Babe, that’s not even a word,” Jason sai
d, coming down the steps. He sat down next to his wife, placing a hand on her belly and kissed her on the lips. “I only worry about my favorite girl.”

  Dean watched his best friend with his wife and for the first time in years, he wasn’t envious of another couple. His appreciative gaze flipped to Josie. He had what his best friend had. He got a second chance at what he’d lost all those years ago. He was a man who now had it all and looked forward to getting up in the morning and coming home in the evenings to his wife. He loved going into her work and surprising her with lunch and a quickie in her office. He loved supporting her and her business. Dean just plain loved and was devoted to his Josie. Dean had it all. Again.

  ***

  Nick finished off the paperwork on the Conley case to hand off to Chief. Nothing good came out of that case. Their streak of overlooked detective work was taking a toll. Chief now had internal affairs up his ass about the case file as well as the jewelry thief file. Nick spent months going over everything with a fine tooth comb but couldn’t come up with any clue that they missed that would have directly led them to Harry or Becky sooner. In fact, if they hadn't been given Hannah's random pictures, Josie might not be with them. The irony wasn't lost on Nick.

  The front desk clerk approached his desk in the center of the precinct. “Nick, there’s a woman here wanting to speak to a detective.”

  He stood, shoving the paperwork into a file. “Isn’t there a patrol officer to help her?”

  “She’s specifically asking for a detective.”

  “Let me get this on Chief’s desk,” he said resigned. Nick trudged to Chief’s empty office and laid the folder in the center and sighed. He had no idea what kind of reprimand that might occur within the unit. He wouldn’t know what to do if he got put on leave. Dean would be fine. Jordan, he had no idea what the man did outside of work. But Nick only had his job. He’d go crazy sitting at home, watching the grass grow. He had no one or nothing waiting for him at home. He threw himself into work because when he went home at night, he was surrounded by a shell of a house. It was just a place to lay his head for eight hours.