Chapter Eleven
McKenna hadn’t intended to walk away. She’d simply stepped to the nurse’s station outside of Beau’s room to check in with her office, while Gabe and Maverick confronted him. One call, that was all. But then the yelling started. By the sounds of it, Beau wasn’t backing down. Neither were Maverick and Gabe. They had their hands full, and well, when opportunity knocked, what did a smart woman do? Simple. She headed for the stairs.
By the time she hit the ground level, heavy footsteps pounded behind her. Might have been Maverick or Gabe. Could have been someone else. She didn’t wait to find out, just walked a little faster. But really? Think about it. Protective custody was for someone who needed it, not her. She had patients to visit. A father to call. A life!
With her heart pounding, she ducked out of the stairwell and into a nearby corridor that led to one of the private staff exits. Patients and family always came through the front doors or the emergency room. Not doctors.
At last on her way to freedom, McKenna called for an Uber driver, and that was that. In two minutes, the closest available driver picked her up at the curb and whisked her away. She never caught sight of Agent Carson or Cartwright if that had even been them in the stairwell.
Whew! Ducked down in the back seat where no one could see her, she blew out a deep breath of freedom. Alex Stewart might not be happy with what she’d done, but she didn’t work for him, did she? Besides, facts were facts. Catalina Montego didn’t know who Dr. Fitzgerald was. They’d never met. How could she?
Feeling back in control of her life for the first time in days, McKenna contacted Margo and caught up on which doctors had covered for her during this forced hiatus, who they’d seen, which patients needed follow-up calls, and so forth. By the time Margo filled her in, McKenna’s heart rate was back to normal and her outlook was sunny.
“Hey, listen. I’m taking a couple more days off. Would you inform my associates that something urgent came up? Yes, I’ll gladly cover for them once I’m back, but until then” —because I don’t want Alex to know where I am— “I’m out of contact. I’ll explain when I return.”
“Is your father okay?” Of course, Margo translated that vague request into a possible family emergency that involved Sanders Fitzgerald’s health. Come to think of it, she always inquired after him. Maybe it was time for a little matchmaking.
“No, Margo, he’s fine, so don’t worry, okay? There’s something I need to deal with. Just business. Nothing too serious. Trust me. You’ll be the first one I call if anything happens.”
“You do know I’m here for you, Dr. Fitz. If you ever just need to talk—”
“Oh, stop,” McKenna gushed, relieved to be discussing work and life instead of intrigue and danger that simply was not happening. Not to her. “You act like I’m dying. But honest. It’s just a business deal…” Sort of. “…that I need to straighten out. It’s a timing thing. No worries.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” Margo hesitated, then added, “It’s not about that guy you left with the other day, is it? Are you and he seeing each other? Are you—Oh, my gosh, are you and he running away together?”
Ha! That’d be the day she had an interest in a man. Any man. Even if she did, it wouldn’t be Maverick Carson. Not now that she knew what a brooding, bossy, totally-devoted-to-China man he was. Beau, maybe. But, on second thought, not him either. And that was just plain sad, because he was handsome.
But McKenna had built her life around her profession and the children and mothers she served. Ever since she’d been a battered child, she’d been driven to never let abuse happen to other children. Mothers in this crazy world needed more resources, especially stressed-out moms like Carol Bryce, who burned the candle at both ends until they woke up one morning in complete mental darkness. If anything frightened McKenna, it was that kind of dark. Dark days. Dark moods. Dark closets.
“You’re making me laugh. You know me, unlucky in love and not looking for Mr. Right, because he’s not out there, remember? Quit worrying, and, oh yeah, if anyone asks, you know nothing, all right?”
“You got it, Fitz. My lips are zipped, and I’m throwing away the key.” Margo mumbled as if she’d done just that.
What a good friend and a truly funny lady. McKenna was lucky to have her on staff. “Thanks, you’re a peach. I’ll be in touch.”
“Tell that father of yours I said hello!” Margo called out as McKenna ended the call.
That woman. If anyone needed a man in her bed, it was Margo. Not McKenna. She’d settle for getting her life back.
The next call she placed was to the unflappable Sanders Fitzgerald himself. Now there was a man who knew what trouble was. At five feet, nine inches and with a full head of premature gray, make that silver, he was a looker. How he maintained an upbeat personality given his past and the anguish he’d dealt with, amazed McKenna. But that was her dad. He was one of those glass half-full kind of guys.
He’d survived a broken marriage to a severely unbalanced woman, McKenna’s mother, Aurora. From the start, he should’ve known all was not well with the family he’d married into, since all six girls were named after female Disney characters. What kind of parents did that to their kids? Unstable parents, that’s who.
But Sanders was one of those truly good guys, always seeing rainbows instead of storms. The silver linings in the thunderclouds. He really should’ve looked closer at the cuckoos in the nest before he fell in love, though.
Because, not to be upstaged by their oldest sister’s mental health issues, Bambi, Daisy, Minnie, Alice, and, oh yes, Wendy, all suffered from the same bi-polar/mental disorder. Little did he know then the disorder had been passed from family to family like their very own private strain of Black Plague. It hadn’t taken Sanders long to become protective of his only child. Hence, McKenna had never met her aunts or her maternal grandparents.
But the day he’d uncovered her most horrible secret still stood out with super high-density picture clarity, complete with Dolby Vision high dynamic range, HDR for the technically challenged. Sanders had been so outraged at Aurora. But so, so hurt for McKenna. Her cold fingertips slipped up to her throat at the recollection, as if she could stop the home movie forcing her to relive the past.
They’d been on the front sidewalk of their nondescript suburban home in South Carolina the day it happened. Back then they were still like everyone else. A small family where the father worked nine-to-five weekdays and had weekends off. A mother who stayed home to care for McKenna and the house. To have dinner on the table when Sanders returned from a hard day’s work. Chores. Homework. They’d even planned a California vacation. One that never happened.
The day Sanders discovered McKenna’s most horrible secret started out like so many other Saturdays. He was off work. They were supposed to go on a picnic at the new waterslide in town that afternoon. But first thing in the morning, in his cheerful, optimistic way, her father insisted on teaching her to ride her bike without training wheels. Little Dougie Morton down the block kept calling her a baby, and that just wasn’t right. Sanders talked to McKenna, his one and only child, about bullies and how the best way to deal with them was to stand up to them. Little did he know...
When the bicycle wobbled, McKenna lost her balance and fell. She scraped her knees. What kid didn’t do that? But the look of horror on her sweet father’s face when he carried her into the kitchen to wash her knees, and instead, discovered massive, black bruises on her skinny thighs beneath her ripped jeans. That led him to the tender, raised welts on her backside. The angry red stripes on her back and shoulders. A line of ugly bruises on her vertebrae. The telling crescent patterns left by Aurora’s sharp fingernails on McKenna’s upper arms.
Sanders didn’t ask who’d hurt her. Neither did he raise his voice or scream for Aurora to come see what he’d found on their—THEIR—daughter. He didn’t curse, and he didn’t accuse. He simply wrapped McKenna up in his arms and sat her on his lap at the kitc
hen table. He pressed her sweaty head against his chest, and he held her there as if he’d never let her go. She surely hadn’t wanted him to, when over and over he murmured, “Never ever again. I promise you, baby girl. Never. Ever. Again.”
She had only to close her eyes today to conjure the same comforting scent of fabric softener from his shirt. The spicy, tingle of his shaving lotion. The scrape of his just shaved chin against her sweaty forehead. Sanders saved her life and her soul that day. He would forever be McKenna’s first true love.
He was the tenderhearted father who wouldn’t even kill the spiders that invaded their house every autumn. Instead, he’d carefully scoop them up with a towel and tell them, “Not in my house, kids. Go play outside where you belong.” And out they’d go to creep back in on another, chilly day.
She’d cried there on his lap, but only because he’d cried, and that was her fault. Daddy wasn’t supposed to ever find out what Mom did, because it would hurt his feelings. That was what Mom said, and why McKenna ‘must never tell him what a bad girl she was.’ Of course, little girl McKenna had totally believed she was the cause of his tears. That everything was her fault. If he’d never found her sores and owies, he never would’ve cried.
She cried with him, not because of what her mom would do to her, but because his feelings were hurt. Like any child of an abusive parent, she’d long since accepted her demeaning position in her family. How could she be a good girl if she couldn’t keep one secret? She’d been so sure she was worthless.
But after he’d wiped his face, Sanders hugged her carefully and told her she was a good girl and that none of this was her fault. He promised no one would ever hurt her again. But she’d heard that before. Mom always apologized, too. Aurora cried after every beating and whipping she delivered. She always said she didn’t know why she got so mad and lost control. She always promised McKenna she’d never, ever do it again. Until the next time...
“Talk about crazy,” McKenna whispered to herself as she thumb-dialed her father at Golden Horizons. When he didn’t answer on his private room line, she dialed his cell.
“Hello there, Lamb Chops!” he answered brightly. “How’s my best girl and my favorite doctor? Still planning on dinner tomorrow night? You didn’t forget your date with your old man, did you?”
“Hi, Dad. I could never forget you, and yes, I’m fine. But about tomorrow night… I have to give you a rain check. Something’s come up.”
“I hope whoever that something is, he’s tall, dark, handsome, and ready to settle down.”
McKenna smiled at her chipper dad. He’d been hinting she needed to get married quite a bit lately. Said he wasn’t getting any younger. That he’d like a couple grandchildren before he kicked the bucket. Not that he was old.
Sanders had only moved into Golden Horizons when he’d had a minor stroke, and he decided he didn’t want to live alone any longer. He needed a cane to walk, but since she worked long hours, he’d decided she needed her independence and stoutly refused to move in with her like she would’ve preferred. Something about cramping her style. As if I have a style.
The stubborn, dear old man. Out of respect for his wishes, she’d helped him move from his two-bedroom apartment above the coffee shop in upscale Adams Morgan, out west to the assisted living center closest to her practice and apartment. If there were a better father in the world, McKenna didn’t know him. Well, except for Alex Stewart. He was almost as good and decent as Sanders Fitzgerald.
“No, Dad, I’m not dating anyone. I’m too busy to start a family, and I’m not looking. You know that.”
“Well, darn,” he complained. “Guess I owe Stu a root beer then.”
“You’ve got to stop taking bets on me getting married, Dad. You lose every time.”
“I know, I know. But one of these days, you’ll surprise me. I can feel it in these old bones.”
“Your bones are not old, and neither are you, young man,” she scolded, loving the playful banter between them. He’d been in her corner from the moment he’d whisked her out of Aurora’s reach, and through all the years of counseling to overcome the phobias inflicted on her by her unbalanced mother. To this day, McKenna still hated dark places and closets. She wouldn’t be caught dead in one. Oh, the nightmares she had from being locked up. Yeah. Not going back there.
“So,” he huffed. “Name me another day and time. I’ve got money in my pocket to spend and I intend to blow it on my best girl.”
A thought sparked in McKenna’s head. “Have you ever thought of dating again?” Because I have a horny assistant in mind...
“Me? Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve already got a barn burner in my sight, woman, and it’s you. Now tell me when you can spare a couple hours for dinner and a movie.”
“I love you. More than I can ever say. How about a week from today?” Things should be back to normal by then.
“It’s a deal. I’m penciling you in. Hey, I gotta run. Stu’s setting up the chessboard.”
“Bye, Dad! Love you. Kiss Stu for me.”
“Eww, never.” He chuckled. “Stu’s nothing but a dirty old man. His own wife won’t kiss him. Love you, Princess.”
McKenna settled back into the leather seat, at peace for the first time in days. She could hide out at home for the next week, and no one would be wiser. Right?
Chapter Twelve
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Alex hissed. “Do I have to do everything myself?”
“She split when Beau pitched a shit fit. We were distracted, what can I say? And you don’t do everything yourself, do you?” Maverick volleyed back with a hefty slam dunk of sarcasm. “Gabe went after McKenna, while I was busy making sure Beau stayed put, but she’s no dummy. By the time he hit the ground floor, there was no sign of her. How were we supposed to know she’d do something this stupid?”
Huffing through his nostrils, Alex closed his eyes and counted to ten. Five. Ten.
Not like that helped. “What the hell’s Beau pissed about now? Is he in pain?” Because he sure as hell will be if I have to leave my wife and daughter to fly all the way there just to set him straight.
“Says he can’t work like this. He wants out of the hospital to do his job.”
“He doesn’t have a job! He’s confined to quarters, and those quarters are his damned bed!”
“I know, I know. Only thing keeping him here is his surgeon’s refusal to sign him out.”
“Smart man. What’s his name?”
“Dr. Royce Decker.” Maverick sounded as pissed as Alex felt, but shit. Doctors were supposed to be smarter than most people. Apparently, not Dr. Fitz.
“Tell him to call me. I’ll be waiting.”
“Copy that,” Maverick bit out, his tone weary, which forced Alex to rethink his tactics. Blasting the guys who had his back was never smart business, and Maverick was as solid as they came.
“We’ll find her,” Alex offered by way of apology. “She can’t have gotten far, and… You’re right. This one’s on me. I should’ve assigned more agents to this op. Can’t expect you two to do double-duty.”
“Yeah, well…” Maverick grumbled.
Alex could picture him standing in the hospital hall, facing the wall, raking a hand over his head, and still recovering from jet lag. His latest overseas operation had ended only a couple days ago. Maverick deserved a week off to unwind and reconnect with his family after that grueling schedule, not a twenty-four-seven assignment the minute his ass hit home plate.
“You’re right, Boss. We’ll find her, but you need to set Beau straight. He’s hellbent on going after Montego by himself, and he’s dressed, ready to walk out of here. Gabe’s in with him now, but the bastard’s not listening to a word we say. What’s his problem anyway?”
Good question. What were any of their problems? Alex had seen it all. The men and women he’d hired all came home with PTSD, alcoholism, battle stress, and godawful survivor’s guilt like what Maverick carried aro
und like a cat-o-nine tails. Whipping himself on bad days for not being there when his only brother died, yet just as pissed at the world on good days, too.
He’d lost Darrell on a failed joint operation in Afghanistan a couple years back, and he hadn’t forgiven himself yet. Might never. God knew it took Alex a helluva lot longer than that to admit that his first wife and daughter were gone, the key word being admit. Not accept. Not endure. He still struggled with the harsh paradigm chance had forced on him. Who the hell didn’t?
Alex cut Maverick a little more slack. “I’ll send Taylor to relieve you. Go home. Kiss your wife. Play with that little girl. Call when you’re ready to come back to work.”
“I’m not leaving,” Maverick ground out. “I said I’ll do this, and I will. If you talk to Beau, I’ll run out to Doc Fitzgerald’s clinic and her office. They might’ve heard from her by now. No doubt that’s where she’s gone. This has been hard on her. I’ll talk to her, get her to at least listen to common sense.”
Okay then. “Thanks,” Alex said quietly. He’d been right selecting Maverick out of the many applications who could have become TEAM agents that day. Like it or not, Maverick had needed the unique brotherhood The TEAM offered, he just hadn’t realized it then.
“Listen, Zack and Jake are here. Eric and Shea are already here with Meredith Hunter and her son, Courtney. Harley’s headed this way with Judy and the twins. Tell Beau to keep his ass in the hospital. I’m on my way.”
“Copy that,” Maverick replied more evenly. “Could you bring a couple steaks? Or something? This hospital food sucks.”
“For you and Gabe, yeah. For Beau, no. He can eat that shit ’til I say different.”
Alex hung up, not ready to leave his wife and daughter in another man’s hands but going to do it anyway. Damn that Beau. The young man had been trouble from day one. Always arguing. Talking back. For a former Army Ranger who needed a steady job, he sure threw a lot of I-know-better-than-you bullshit back at the other agents. At Alex, too.
Beau (In the Company of Snipers Book 18) Page 8