“Don’t worry. She’s still playing with the dogs,” Kelsey supplied, her fingers gentle on his stomach again.
Oh, yeah. I remember now. “In the playroom, r-r-right?” He nodded, needing Kelsey to agree with him.
“That’s right. In the dollhouse, now what did Athena say to you, hon?”
That word again. Spoken with such care and concern, it brought tears to his eyes. “Nothing much,” Beau huffed, not sure who was who anymore. “Just a bunch of Spanish bullsh… um, cursing. You know. Stuff.”
He looked at Kelsey when he answered, but her eyes weren’t hers anymore. The soft browns had morphed into worried greens. How very odd. Kelsey was suddenly Doc Fitz and shouting from the other end of a long, dark, swirling tunnel. “I’m losing him! Beau! Stay with me!”
Sure wish I could…
Chapter Eight
“Start him on a saline drip, monitor his heart, and make it quick! He’s dehydrated,” McKenna barked at the EMTs transporting a still unconscious Beau through the Stewarts’ door and out to the waiting ambulance straddling their front lawn. She would’ve had them begin transfusions, but EMTs weren’t authorized to do that. “I’ve alerted my people at GWU. Dr. Decker’s on standby.”
That would be the orthopedic hand surgeon who specialized in reattaching severed hands and fingers at the prestigious George Washington University Hospital in Washington D.C. “Hurry people. This man already coded once. It will not happen again.”
EMTs hadn’t been allowed to enter until Sheriff Howie Prince and his officers cleared the area, and by then, McKenna had Beau Jennings’ heart beating again. But he’d scared the bejesus out of her, going into cardiac arrest like he had.
“Understood, ma’am. You wouldn’t happen to have the rest of this guy’s digit, would you?” one of the EMTs asked as the gurney cleared the doorway. “Or do we need to look for it?”
Alex took over. “It’s already on ice at GWU. Maverick, go with Dr. Fitzgerald. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“Copy that,” Maverick murmured as he tipped his hat to Kelsey. “Ma’am. You take care and let China know if you need anything, you hear? She’s just minutes down the road.”
“Call her back,” Alex ordered. “Tell her to keep Kyrie inside until we know where Montego is.”
Maverick nodded. “Already called everyone, Boss. China’s got the place locked down, and Mother’s getting the word out to all other agents to keep their wives and children indoors and safe. Don’t worry. We’ll get Montego.”
“Thanks,” Alex muttered. Usually, he had the glow of a commander. Calm and rational, there was always a sense of balance to the man. Like the bow wave of a mighty ship, it preceded him before he entered any room. It was as if he were a massive aircraft carrier in just another storm. As if nothing dared rattle him. But not today. The man was a ticking bomb, the cords in his neck wound tight and his shoulders square.
McKenna paused at the open doorway when Maverick stepped to her side. “You guys really think the woman who did this will strike again? While the police are looking for her?”
“Not taking chances,” Alex replied, his normally icy blues gone dark and stormy. “I’ll call in another agent to stand guard with Maverick while Beau recovers, but you need to watch your step. If Montego is behind this, she prefers to victimize men, but don’t trust her. You own a weapon?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. Only gummy vitamins. Lollipops. Stuff kids like.” And, oh yes, an ulcer since Beau pulled that flatlining routine. She should’ve seen it coming. Dehydration, shock, and blood loss compromised the heart every time.
Alex stuck his chin at Maverick. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Didn’t intend to,” he replied, his gaze already out the door and his hand cupping her elbow. “You’re with me, Doc Fitz. There won’t be enough room for you in the ambulance, so we’ll follow in my vehicle.”
“I’ll call later,” McKenna promised Kelsey before she was forced to accompany her bossy escort to where he’d parked several houses down the block.
This whole bodyguard-the-doctor routine was stifling, on the verge of claustrophobic. What’d Alex and Maverick think she was going to do, go looking for trouble? Hardly. McKenna was more the type who hid under her bed after watching a scary movie. Not like she did that, either. People who survived their own horror shows weren’t inclined to enjoy gruesome box office thrills.
“Or I’ll call you,” Kelsey called out before Alex shut the door on her.
Man, these guys were bossy!
The trip to GWU was uneventful, but McKenna couldn’t relax, not after the brutality she’d witnessed. Whoever this Catalina Montego person was, she’d cut off the distal and intermediate portion of Agent Jennings’ digitus minimus manus—his baby finger—with a sharp, but blunt, instrument. One that easily severed skin and tissue, but crushed bone. McKenna had sutured what veins she could on the exposed proximal phalange to control the bleeding, and she’d packed his entire hand and arm in ice.
But she doubted even Decker could reattach that finger. There was too much tendon and bone damage. She wasn’t up on all the latest whiz-bang advancements in reattaching damaged limbs and fingers, but she knew enough. The second interphalangeal joint had been severely compromised, and unless Dr. Decker now attached bionic digits—which was entirely possible these days—Agent Jennings would soon join the ranks of all those who’d come home damaged from war. Or who’d stuck their fingers in lawnmowers and augers.
The poor guy. Even as sweaty and confused as he’d been, Beau was one of those gloriously handsome Hispanic males, the kind that melted panties and made millions at the box office. His brows were black, but not bushy. More elegant. Refined. A definite five o’clock shadow graced his cheeks, jaw, and neck, but on him, it looked sexy. His hair was lush and thick, trimmed at the sides, yet longer on top. When she’d first seen him, she’d barely managed to not brush through the strands hanging into his eyes.
Olive skinned, the man had the most incredible lashes. Thick and long, they’d sucked her gaze into eyes so black and hostile, she’d been half-afraid to treat him at first. He’d looked like he might bite, and the words out of his mouth? Atrocious, vile, and—her heart fluttered—again, Beau Jennings was fiercely sexy. In a roundabout way, he’d even implied that she was pretty. Not many of her patients ever told her that.
Beau was also built like a tank, his abs washboard hard, his chest wider than Maverick’s, his thighs overworked and as thick as tree trunks. Long-legged and belligerent, he wasn’t her type. At all. Yet she hadn’t been able to force her gaze off him once she’d knelt at his side. Lethal danger shuddered off him, but once she’d touched him and found him trembling beneath her fingertips, her heart told her true. This god of thunder and death was scared. Hence the bad language.
Not that she found foul-mouthed men attractive. She didn’t. But most doctors, nurses, and others in the medical fields tended to be overly refined, even reserved. Often stuffy. Boringly intellectual. Full of themselves and proud of the letters after their names. Trimmed, clean, and—sterile. They were more white-collar than blue, though she knew a few who hiked, skied, and scuba dived. Not like that put them in the same category as truckers, farmers, or Alex Stewart’s snipers. Beau Jennings was just—different—in a deadly, irresistible way. He was raw. Rude. Volatile. One look at him and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck lifted as if she’d come way too close to a lightning strike.
McKenna hadn’t failed to notice Beau’s bare feet, either. Dirty, yes, but rugged, his toes were straight, his nails trimmed, and the metatarsals long. What was it about a man’s bare feet that made her heart somersault? Probably because she seldom saw them. Guess that made all things male and bare enticing.
She’d detected more than his fierce masculine pride when she’d wrapped that poor callused hand in ice prior to transport, though. His poor injured hand had also testified of a prior injury. A nasty burn. The scar its
elf was massive but old and smooth, as if he’d grabbed something hot when he was younger. Maybe an overheated weapon during his Army time? She wondered if Alex knew.
And that tattoo covering his massive left arm, what was that about? Comprised of a hooded demons’ skull that reminded her of Death, it encompassed his entire shoulder, then wound down and around his arm like a coiled pet dragon, complete with scales, until it ended with a wicked, toothy face on the back of his poor hand. A tat that size had to have hurt when he’d gotten it.
But wasn’t it interesting how Beau had deferred to Kelsey every time she spoke to him? What was that about? Kelsey was everyone’s darling, but he’d looked positively star-struck whenever she’d leaned over him. Like a little boy who wanted to please her. It was almost comical. Yet the glow in his dark eyes when she spoke made him—endearing.
Several hours later, McKenna still waited for news on her patient. Dr. Decker hadn’t yet taken a break to update her on Beau’s progress, which hopefully meant all was well. She thumbed through what few magazines she’d found, and she paced.
Her opinion of Maverick deflated as the afternoon dragged on. He’d grown moody after he’d called home and talked with his wife, China. Whatever transpired during their conversation hadn’t set well with him. McKenna assured him that she’d be fine by herself if he needed to run home to secure his family.
But he’d flatly refused and ended up telling her to knock it off after she’d encouraged him one too many times. “I don’t cut and run,” he’d said with something akin to disgust in his tone, like she’d accused him of shirking his duty, which she hadn’t.
She quit asking.
Now he sat sullen and quiet at her side in the hospital’s family counseling/consultation room just outside trauma surgery. Thankfully, another agent showed up with two Starbucks and a couple sandwiches from the Fresh Grill cafeteria on the first floor. Gabe Cartwright seemed a more even-tempered man. With short mahogany hair, he was quick with a smile, and the complete opposite of prickly, brooding Maverick.
McKenna craved the coffee Gabe brought, but her nervous stomach wasn’t up to handling solid foods. Not until she knew how Beau’s surgery went.
“Is there someone I can call?” she asked, holding the Starbucks venti in both hands. “For Mr. Jennings, I mean. A wife? Parents? Anyone we should notify?”
Gabe shook his head. “He’s got no family, ma’am.”
“Just us. Not like he cares about us,” Maverick added with a snort.
No matter what she said or asked, he rained on her parade.
Gabe winked. “Don’t let him get to you, ma’am. You know how brothers are. Some of us don’t know when we’ve got it good.”
Maverick turned and glared at Gabe. “And some of us don’t know when to shut it.”
Which made Gabe grin wider at McKenna. “See? What’d I say? Am I not the more handsome man sitting here? Does not a frown turned upside down bring a ray of sunshine to a cloudy—ouch!”
Maverick landed another solid punch to Gabe’s bicep, pushing him over the armrest. “Who the hell are you today, Mister Rogers? A frown turned upside down? Really? You’ve been watching too much TV with Suzette.”
McKenna had the urge to make them sit in different corners.
“Then why so glum?” Gabe asked his buddy. “It’s not like the world’s ending. We’ve been through shit like this before. This is just one more mean chick with a vendetta.”
“Yeah, but…” Maverick ran a hand over his head. “It’s Gorgeous. She’s foaling again. Last one came breach. We lost it.”
“Ah, it’s springtime in the Rockies. I forgot.” Gabe swallowed the rest of his Starbucks and tossed the cup into the trash receptacle across the room before he turned to McKenna and explained. “Maverick and China own around thirty Percheron draft horses. The mares drop their foals in spring. It’s a big deal, I mean” —he held his arms out wide, his fingers fluttering— “a Percheron foal is a really big deal.”
“Will you stop?” Maverick hissed. “You make it sound like she’s foaling a mini-truck.”
“I forgot that you raise horses,” McKenna said, thankful for a neutral path to Maverick. No wonder he was anxious. He wanted to be home helping that mare deliver her baby, something McKenna could relate to.
He met her gaze from beneath dark, threatening brows. “Yes, ma’am. Thirty-two at last count. The Wild Wolf Ranch East is just down the road from Alex and Kelsey’s place. Ten miles past the truck stop if you’re coming east.”
She cocked her head. “Those are yours? Oh, my gosh! I pull over there all the time just to watch them. I’ve loved horses since I was little. But I thought they were Clydesdales.”
He shook his head. “Every last one’s a registered Percheron, born and bred. China keeps their pedigree charts. She’s the expert. I’m just hired help. You ought to visit us sometime. They’re really quite gentle.”
An invitation was the last thing McKenna expected. He really was a handsome man when he wasn’t scowling. “I’ll do that, thanks.”
“Do you ride?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to. Do you?” She could imagine him sitting tall in the saddle, his cowboy hat pulled low as he galloped into the sunset, or something equally as romantic. China Carson was one lucky woman.
“Yes, ma’am. Every chance I get. When I’m not traveling, I run Everyone’s a Cowboy.”
“No, really!” Okay, now that was just plain weird. “I refer patients to you all the time.”
Everyone’s a Cowboy was a local therapeutic riding program for special needs children. Affiliated with the Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, internationally known as PATH, Everyone’s a Cowboy’s reputation for reaching out to all children, no matter their disability, exceeded others in the region. It made sense now. The woman behind it was a Ms. Wolf. Probably also how Wild Wolf Ranch got its name. Hmmm.
Maverick nodded. “That’s good to know. It keeps my head in the game.”
“Instead of up his ass,” Gabe quipped, which earned him another hard glare from his buddy.
The door opened and both Maverick and Gabe lifted to their feet as Dr. Decker ducked inside the room and inclined his head to McKenna. “Are these family members?” he asked, ever conscious of the HIPAA mandate to protect patient confidentiality.
Before she could speak, Maverick stepped forward, one hand extended. “No, sir, we’re not, and if you need us to leave, we will. But Beau has no living family that we know of. Name’s Maverick Carson and with me is Gabe Cartwright. We work with Beau, and we consider ourselves his brothers more than just his friends.”
“Thank you for understanding, but rules are rules,” Dr. Decker said as he returned the shake. “I can’t divulge patient information until he gives me written consent. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Dr. Fitzgerald in private.”
No sooner said than done. With an obedient, “You bet,” Maverick and Gabe retreated to the hallway and closed the door behind them.
“How is he?” McKenna asked.
“He’ll survive, but he’s looking at a couple more surgeries and months of rehab. He’s lost the use of that joint. I couldn’t save it. Give him another hour and you’ll be able to see him.”
“You were able to reattach it then?” Amazing.
“Absolutely. It’ll be the slightest bit shorter than it was, but in order to reattach the bone, I had to clean the tissue, and…” Dr. Decker launched into a complex technical explanation of what he’d encountered reattaching the nine muscles, the bones, as well as the veins and nerves in Beau’s pinky finger. Lost somewhere between the two intrinsic flexor muscles and the dorsal digital nerves, McKenna stood in awe of Dr. Decker’s incredible skill and knowledge. He made the last several hours sound like just another day in the life of.
“Good job suturing those dorsal arteries by the way.” Dr. Decker cocked his head. “That probably saved his life. But why you? You’re
a pediatrician. How’d you get involved?”
“I was just nearest the scene at the time.”
“Who did this to him?”
She shrugged. “Some psycho named Athena or Catalina Montego. Yes, I’ve never heard of her either, but Alex Stewart thinks she’s after his agents.”
Dr. Decker’s gaze narrowed. “Alex Stewart, as in the owner of that security business over in Alexandria?”
“The TEAM, yes. Do you know him?”
“I know his wife. Kelsey talked my fourteen-year-old son into returning home a couple months ago. Thought we’d lost him for good. She’s an unbelievable force in our community.”
“She’s my very best friend,” McKenna beamed. “Everybody loves her, and she does so much for runaways. I’m thrilled you know her.”
“She does good work.” Decker paused, his salt-and-pepper hair cut so close she could see his tanned scalp. Glancing at the door, he asked, “Those men are guarding you and Mr. Jennings?”
“Yes. It was rather crazy. Maverick escorted me from my office to Kelsey’s home where I treated Beau. He’s been with me since.” But he’d rather be home, and I wish I were at my office.
“I don’t usually do this, but…” Decker withdrew a business card from his pocket. “If either you or the Stewarts need me, call. Understood? For anything. I owe them.”
She tucked it into her hip pocket. “Will do. Thank you for taking this case on. You could’ve turned me down. I really appreciate what you’ve done.”
“I’m glad I was on call.” He nodded toward the closed door. “Why don’t you go wait for Mr. Jennings? It shouldn’t be long before they transfer him from recovery.”
Which made her stop to think. She had no business waiting around any longer. Beau had Maverick and Gabe. They were his brothers. His family. Not hers. Besides, what were the odds that Montego, whoever she was, even knew about McKenna Fitzgerald or where to find her? This might be a good time to cut and run back to the land of runny noses, whooping cough, midnight earaches, and monthly inoculations.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 6