New Years SEAL Dream: A Bone Frog Brotherhood Novella

by Sharon Hamilton

  The officers agreed to let her go if they could question her further at the hospital. Kip was in charge of closing the store. Brandy agreed to keep the place closed until the police had finished their work, and Kip agreed to open it for them in the morning.

  Alone and headed back down the freeway, she left a message for Tucker, and then she burst out in tears, flushing out all the pain and pent up worry all the way to the hospital. By the time she arrived, her eyes felt like her lids were made of cardboard.

  This was not the way she’d expected this day to go. As she entered the Emergency Room doors, she began to find some of her courage. She hoped it would be enough for whatever news they’d give her. She said a little prayer before she approached the admitting desk and strained to keep her lower lip from wobbling, Taking a deep breath, she told the admitting clerk, “I’m here to see Steven Cook. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

  Chapter 7

  Tucker had removed his flight overalls, stowed his equipment, and repacked his chute and the tandem chute, double checking each fold twice. He felt the vibration from his cell and noticed he’d gotten a message from Brandy.

  “It’s me, Brandy. I’m on my way to the hospital. Scripps ER. Dad’s been hurt, and they rushed him by ambulance. I’m meeting the police there. I have no idea how long I’ll be, but I don’t want to leave him until I know he’s going to be okay. So I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that burger and beer. Call me when you get a chance.”

  He dialed her back, sorry that he’d missed her call earlier. It had been nearly an hour. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Brandy, what happened? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know yet, Tucker. He was unconscious when they took him away. I’m waiting to find out if they’ll let me see him. He’s alive, and that’s a good thing, but I don’t know anything else. I wasn’t able to talk to him. I don’t know if he’s still unconscious.”

  “But how did he get hurt? Why are the police involved?”

  “It was a robbery at the store. They got the cash in the till, the contents of his safe, everything. The police are following up on a lead Kip gave them.”

  “Kip?”

  “I’m sorry. He’s dad’s helper.”

  “So how did he get hurt?”

  “Apparently, he was hit at the back of the head, and then fell. I found him on the floor near the cooler. He didn’t look good at all, Tucker. Lots of blood. I’m worried.”

  “Of course you are. Listen, can I meet you there? I’m about a half-hour away.”

  “I’d like that,” she murmured.

  Tucker could tell she was trying to stay collected but was having difficulty holding herself together. Her breathing was forced and ragged.

  “He’s at Scripps you say?”

  “Yes. I can call you if they take him somewhere else. But their ER and critical care is one of the best in the country.”

  “You got that right. Okay, I’ll be there as fast as I can. You need me to bring anything?”

  “Honestly, I’m not focusing on me at all. I think I’m still in shock. Just come. That would help.”

  Tucker stopped by his apartment, wanting to take a shower, but knew he didn’t have time. He changed his clothes, picked up a pillow and blanket, threw a couple of waters in a bag, and headed up the freeway.

  The sunset was a rosy pink, which sent a glow throughout the waiting room at the ER. His arms overflowing with the blanket and queen pillow, he scanned the seats and didn’t see Brandy, so asked the desk clerk. He peered over the top of his bundle, since the woman was taller than he was.

  “Are you family?” she asked, examining his armful.

  “Yes,” he lied.

  “Well, hon, the daughter is waiting outside the treatment room. They’re getting ready to take him up to ICU.”

  “How’s he doing? Can I come in and wait with her?”

  “Sorry, can’t give you his status, but let me ask her if she’d like some company. I’m betting she would,” she said, scanning the pillow again, squinting her eyes and smiling. “Can I have your name, please?”

  “Tucker Hudson.”

  “I’ll be right back.” The heavyset nurse winked at him and then moved with the speed of a linebacker, disappearing around the corner. It wasn’t every day Tucker spoke eyeball to eyeball with a woman who towered above him. In a few seconds, the side door opened, and the clerk called out, “Mr. Hudson, this way, please.”

  Brandy was in the hallway, speaking to a uniformed female officer. She abandoned the conversation temporarily and ran to his arms. An instant before she collided with him, he dropped his load and pulled her to him.

  “You holding up?” he whispered to the top of her head.

  “Better now.” She snuggled to press herself hard against his chest, wrapping her arms around him beneath his jacket.

  “How’s you dad?”

  Brandy pulled away, biting her lower lip. “Haven’t talked to the doctor yet, really. Dad’s had a brain scan and some bloodwork and some other tests. They told me his vitals were strong, but I don’t know anything else. Hoping someone will talk to me before they take him upstairs.”

  The female officer appeared behind Brandy. “If you give me just a couple more minutes, we can get my questions answered, and I’ll get out of your hair. That sound okay with you?”

  “I’m sorry.” Brandy walked back to the row of chairs they’d been sitting at, remained standing, her arms still about Tucker’s waist. Good as her word, the police officer finished her questions and then was gone within a handful of minutes. Brandy leaned against him as they sat down together. A male nurse had picked up the blanket and pillow and placed them nearby, neatly folded.

  “So how did this robbery occur? They hold him up at gunpoint? In the middle of the day?” Tucker asked.

  “We still don’t know that. Don’t even know how many of them there were.”

  “Your dad have cameras in the store?”

  “Only for looks. They don’t record.”

  “All this is appearing like it was someone who knows your dad. Knows his way around the store. Knows the routines.”

  “I think that’s what the police are going on. But, honestly, I don’t care about the money. I just want to be sure he’s okay, without any major—”

  “Ms. Cook?”

  Dr. Harrelson shook her hand and motioned for her to remain seated. He extended his hand to Tucker. “I’m Dr. Harrelson. You the husband? Boyfriend?”

  Tucker found himself stumbling for his words, a bit put on the spot. “Family friend,” he answered grasping the doctor’s paw.

  “Now that’s a handshake!” Dr. Harrelson barked, feigning injured fingers.

  Tucker thought he’d been rather careful and wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Okay, well we have good news and bad news, Ms. Cook. We’re not seeing much brain damage on the scan, and the wave patterns are normal. He’s got a little swelling, especially in the back here.” The doctor demonstrated on his own head, palming an area behind his right ear at the base of his skull. “There’s probably some pressure, which also could be from blood pooling, but we will monitor that, and it doesn’t seem to be increasing, thank God.”

  “That’s good. So what’s the bad news?” she asked.

  “He’s lost a considerable amount of blood, and he definitely has a minor skull fracture, probably a concussion as well. The next twelve to twenty-four hours will be the most telling, but we should know more once we see how he weathers this.”

  “Is he awake yet?”

  “No, and right now, I’m not anxious for him to be. I think we need to watch him, let his body heal and stabilize itself. There’s a chance we’ll have to go in there to relieve the pressure, but the bleeding has been stopped. We’re thinking the bones in his skull will heal on their own.”

  “That’s good news.” Tucker was feeling encouraged and hoped Brandy felt the same.

  “I was able
to contact his primary care physician. Your dad’s in remarkable shape for sixty-two. His doctor gave me his medical history. That’s going to help us out a lot.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Brandy asked.

  To their side, they all watched as her father was wheeled out of the treatment room and down the hallway by two male attendants.

  “His color is much better,” she remarked.

  “Yeah. We were a little worried when he first came in, but he’s responding quickly. We hope that continues,” Dr. Harrelson added. They followed Mr. Cook’s gurney as it entered the elevator.

  Tucker noted the strong jawline and the shape of her father’s nose, indicating a strong family resemblance. His face looked relaxed. A large white bandage was wrapped around his skull down to the level of his eyebrows and ears. Tufts of graying hair stuck out the top where it had been left open, some of it still caked in dark red blood.

  “So we’re taking him upstairs, now,” the doctor started. “He’ll be in ICU, on the fourth floor, tonight. Once we get him situated, if you want to briefly come in and say goodnight, that would be fine, but no more than five minutes. He probably won’t hear you, and he definitely won’t respond. Just preparing you for this.”

  “Thanks, doctor.”

  “I have rooms upstairs, if you need a place to crash, but honestly, it would probably be best if you just went home and got some rest. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed.”

  Brandy searched Tucker’s face. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s right.” He knew his apartment was not more than five minutes away, but he was hesitant to suggest he take her there. He hadn’t entertained a woman at his place in several months and was in the habit of trying to avoid it at all costs. He was trying to recall how bad the place was, since it would be Brandy’s first impression of how he lived. Though a tiny niggling voice whispered caution, he found himself overruling it.

  “I don’t live too far. But if you want to stay here, I’m willing to sleep in a chair by your side. I’ve learned to sleep just about anywhere.”

  “You a Team Guy?” Dr. Harrelson asked.

  “Former.”

  “That explains the handshake. So, you two talk about it and then let me know. Give us about ten minutes to get him all situated, okay?”

  Brandy nodded as the doctor left.

  “I think he’s doing really great, Brandy.” Tucker had never seen the man before, but in light of what he’d been through, he thought Mr. Cook was looking good. “If he’s stabilized, no reason for you to get worn out trying to sleep here. Hospitals make me nervous. Just too much going on.”

  Tucker had an aversion to hospitals. Even when he’d broken his legs twice in combat, he demanded he be able to walk out on his own, whether in cast or crutches or both. The first time it was nearly impossible to navigate. He got good at asking people to get out of the way by swinging his crutch high above his head like a hammer throw. He even resumed his skydiving, until his LPO found out and put a stop to it.

  “You sure it’s no trouble?” she asked. “Do you have a roommate?”

  “No roommate. It’s sparsely decorated and probably not to your taste, but I guarantee the bed’s great.”

  She smiled, slowly swinging her head from side to side. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “There. That’s what I’ve been looking for.” He angled her chin up and kissed her lightly. “I wanted to see that pretty smile. Ready to go?”

  “I want to see him first.”

  An ICU nurse accompanied Brandy to the expansive room housing several beds, most of them filled. Tucker waited against the wall, sneaking a peek through the wide open doorway. He was able to see Brandy sit in the chair provided, reach over, and take her father’s hand. She spoke to him, but too softly for him to make out. A few minutes later, with a gentle pat on her shoulder, she was ushered out.

  “How’s he look?” he asked her.

  “He actually looks comfortable, but the nurse told me they’d be on high alert all night in case something happened. It’s amazing he didn’t break his arm or one of his legs, the way he must have fallen.”

  “Someone definitely looking out for him,” Tucker answered back. “Let’s go.”

  He drove in complete silence the short ten blocks before he arrived at the gates to his complex. He was grateful he didn’t have to ruminate any longer than five minutes over his choice to bring her to his place. He’d have been a nervous wreck. Putting it all out of his mind, he helped her climb down from his truck, tucked the blanket and pillow under one arm, and took her hand with the other.

  The first thing that hit him when he opened his front door was that he’d never before noticed that his room smelled of man sweat. Her room smelled of lavender and other floral fragrances. Before he turned on any lights, he stumbled in the dark, picked up the clothes he’d worn skydiving today under the jumpsuit, and tossed them behind the closet doors. Before he could choose the right lighting, Brandy turned on the bright kitchen lights, exposing the sink full of dishes. It was over three day’s worth, even though he ate mostly frozen dinners on a regular basis.

  Why hadn’t he thought about this?

  He hung his head sheepishly, hoping it didn’t leave too much of a negative impression. “Between housekeepers,” he mumbled, rolling his neck and left shoulder.

  “You already warned me, so no worries. You also mentioned you don’t have a decorator.” She smiled, seemingly to enjoy his squirming. “I wasn’t expecting an extreme makeover,” she said, batting her eyes at him.

  Tucker was definitely not feeling the least bit romantic. He was scared out of his gourd. He was on uncharted territory and regretted not paying attention to that little voice that usually gave him pretty good advice.

  She wandered around his living room, examining the walls and bare corners. He had one couch, and it conformed perfectly to the contours of his large frame, even if it was ugly as sin. The table in front was a wooden shipping crate. She leaned over it and studied his choice of reading material. Several nudie magazines with specialty titles like I Love Titties and Booty Call were stacked five or six issues deep. All he could do was close his eyes and wait for her reaction. It was too late to whisk them away out of sight.

  She picked up one cover and showed him the enormous boobs on the unfortunate girl. “Do mine look anywhere like these?” she asked, her face showing no expression.

  “Holy cow, Brandy. No. Fuck no! Yours are…well, they’re just right. A nice, full,” he began to hold out his palms, fingers splayed and pointing up, “handful, just overflowing.”

  She had her hands on her waist. It was one of those attitude things women frequently gave him. He knew he was in some trouble, but wasn’t sure how much. With his lack of sleep last night, his radar was not working, and his blood was inconveniently pooling elsewhere. He hoped she didn’t notice. He wished she’d say something.

  “But completely inadequate, compared to these.” She held the magazine up, covering her chest.

  “God, Brandy, those are unnatural. I mean if I wanted to play with a couple of deflated basketballs, I’d go take a drive to Sports City.”

  She flipped the magazine over to examine it again. “They do sort of look like basketballs.”

  Since she wasn’t smiling, he carefully waited for the whole scene to pass. He tried to reassure her he liked her just the way she was built.

  “And you have lovely curves, sweetheart. She’s like a human tuck and roll. I like nice, curvy hips. I mean look at me. I want a woman I don’t have to worry about breaking her pelvis when I make love. I hate skinny women.”

  He wasn’t sure it was enough, so he waited, squinting as if bracing for a blow. She tossed the magazine back onto the table, and picked up one of the big butt issues. “Big Book of Booty. Nice.”

  Her darting glance at him was painful, but his dick was having great fun at his expense. Luckily, Brandy didn’t look there. Instead, she smiled and asked him, “Does my ass look
like this?”

  Tucker was stumped. Brandy’s ass did indeed look like the cover model’s. She was round in all the right places. He decided he’d have to live or die, but he’d be honest with her.

  “Yes, your butt looks sort of like that, only better. Smooth as silk. I love the way it looks and feels, sweetheart.” He was hoping she didn’t catch on that this was his favorite magazine.

  “So why’d you buy this other one if you don’t like basketballs with nipples? Or are you lying to me?”

  “Look, Brandy, we’re going places we don’t have to go. But the truth is, there are some nice pictures on the inside. They aren’t all like this. This is shock value, to make men buy the magazine. That’s all. This is like a cartoon, a comic book, something men do to pass the time, like playing a video game or something. It’s all fantasy.”

  He carefully maneuvered himself behind her, removing the magazine from her hands and turning her around.

  “I don’t need those things anymore. I got the real thing right here. You were created perfect for me. I mean that, Brandy.” He massaged the top of her spine. With the other hand, he slipped it around her waist and slowly pulled her to him. “Perfect, in every way,” he whispered. He let his hands massage her ass, squeezing and pressing her against his hardness.

  “Why can’t I be your fantasy, Tucker?”

  “You are. You totally are. Men look. That’s what we do. You do it, I’m sure. I mean, I saw all those romance novels overflowing your bookshelf. Some of those guys were naked. I’m sure it’s done to sell those books to women, right?”

  He suddenly felt like a louse. Here her father was in ICU, and he was having this discussion about boobs and booty. His lust was driving the conversation, clouding his better judgment. It wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t even fair to himself. He wasn’t acting like a real man. He was acting like a wolf—and everything he didn’t respect. He was disgusted with himself.