In Love and Rescue: When love is the perfect rescue...

by K. Alex Walker

  “I forgive you,” she added. “For leaving. I get it now. You thought you’d be like your father.”

  Desmond thought back to what he now realized was one of the dumbest moments of his life. He’d just returned from his father’s parole hearing and had already been tightly wound from having to see the man he loathed most in the world try to proclaim his reformation. After the hearing, when he went home that afternoon, Larke had immediately noticed that something was wrong. She’d tried to get him to talk about it, but he’d refused. Then, she’d walked up and tried to wrap her arms around him from behind, tried to show the care and compassion for him that she always did without question, and he’d reacted violently. He’d flipped around, pulled her off of him, and knocked her off balance in the process. Right into the coffee table.

  He remembered the broken shards of glass, and the way she’d cringed in pain. The way she’d moaned as she struggled to get up from the floor.

  Completely terrified that he’d hurt her, he’d gone over to try to help her up, only for her to retract from his hand. Then, when she looked up at him, he saw the fear outlined in the same eyes that had captivated him from day one. He’d managed to make his wife fear him, just like his father had done, which made him feel no different from the evil man. From that one look, he’d seen their life years down the road with him eventually blowing up enough to strike her, and that had been enough to force him to leave. There was no way he would have been able to live with harming the one person that meant more to him that anyone else in the world.

  But he’d been wrong. Leaving her wasn’t the best choice. The best choice was to tell her the truth. What his life had been like. Let her in so that she could help him let it out. If he had only done that, he could have been there. Perhaps, he could have even nipped this Jarvis business in the bud from the first time around. If only he’d been a real husband, his wife wouldn’t be dying in his arms at that very moment.

  “Larke…please…don’t talk anymore.”

  Outside, emergency lights began to flash.

  “Larke,” he began again. “Don’t you know how much I love you? Baby, I would have taken any bullet for you.”

  She smiled weakly at him before her lids fluttered closed. He then felt himself being torn away from her as the emergency personnel rushed in. Law enforcement officials also rushed in and surveyed the area while the medics ran over to tend to Doug’s wounds.

  Dammit Larke, why didn’t you let me take that bullet? I wouldn’t have even hesitated to do that for you. I told you that. It doesn’t work the other way around.

  As the paramedics took them away, Lawrence appeared in Desmond’s line of sight, Timothy entering behind him with the sniper rifle still in his hand. Lawrence sent a team over to check on Desmond, but he refused their assistance. Lawrence then put a hand on Desmond’s shoulder and leaned close to his ear.

  “Let them help you, Harding,” he insisted.

  The team cautiously approached Desmond again while he remained kneeling on the floor, his gaze locked on the open front door while they examined his body.

  “You probably have some fractures,” one of them seemed to say. “You have to go to the hospital.”

  When he didn’t move, they looked to Lawrence for help once again. Lawrence solemnly shook his head and tugged Desmond to his feet.

  “The more you try to fight your fear, the longer you will remain standing here,” he explained. “She’s in good hands. Get yourself patched up, then go to her.”

  Desmond slowly turned his head to acknowledge that Lawrence had been speaking. Lawrence half-smiled and nodded, and finally Desmond felt his feet begin to move forward. Lawrence was right. He wasn’t standing there in strength, he was immobilized by fear. Fear hadn’t saved his mother’s life and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. All this time that Larke had needed him and this was when he was going to back out?

  There was no way in hell.

  He sat in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics continued to monitor his vitals. She needed him…and he was going to be there when she woke up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Desmond didn’t make it any easier on the medical staff who tried to tend to his wounds. X-rays revealed that he had cracked a few ribs and that there were broken bones in his left forearm, but he could only concentrate on the fact that both Doug and Larke had gone into surgery at the same time, and he hadn’t gotten an updated status on either. All he knew was that Doug was expected to recover because the bullet had missed major organs, but Larke’s status was critical. Unfortunately, that information had meant nothing to him. What he needed to know was what it was going to take to save her life, and what he needed to do to make sure that she received it.

  Instead, he was wasting away on an exam table.

  “Look, Mr. Harding,” an exasperated nurse was saying. “You have to let us help you. Your wounds are way more serious than you’re taking them for. Do you know the complications that can arise from damaged ribs?”

  “I’ve had worse,” Desmond shot back.

  “I’m sure you have,” she affirmed, “but the mere fact that you’re walking around with all your limbs and joints intact tells me that at some point and time, you sought care for those injuries.”

  Desmond shot her a look which she returned with the same vehemence. She was a woman that looked to be in her mid-fifties with a head full of short, cropped black hair. Her expression was stern, yet gentle, and he could tell that she was not one to be trifled with.

  “On one condition,” Desmond bartered.

  Her hand went to her hip. “What’s the condition?”

  “Larke Tapley,” he answered. “Has her status been updated?”

  The nurse sighed and pulled up a chair, taking a seat in front of Desmond. “Mr. Harding, she’s still in surgery. At this point, we don’t know anything more.”

  Desmond held her gaze until he decided whether or not to believe her.

  “You don’t believe me,” she stated. “My thirty-six year old son gives me that same death stare when he thinks I’m lying to him. He’s been doing that since he was five. You don’t intimidate me, Mr. Harding.”

  As his expression softened, she moved closer and gently touched his knee. “But, I am being honest. Her injury is pretty serious. By the time she arrived at the hospital, the injured lung had collapsed.”

  An icy sensation filled Desmond’s veins.

  “In your experience, what would you say her odds are?” He asked.

  “Honestly? Fifty-fifty. But she’s in the hands of one of the top surgeons in the world. You have to have faith.”

  He diverted his attention to three boxes of latex gloves on a shelf on the wall. “Do you know how she got shot?”

  The nurse half-smiled. “Yes. The whole staff knows, which is why we’re pulling extra hard for her. Outside of law enforcement, we don’t get too many stories about people jumping in front of bullets to save others. Larke, she’s a courageous woman. She must love you something serious.”

  The scowl vanished from Desmond’s face only to be replaced by a mixture of uncertainty, fear, and guilt.

  “Talk to me,” the nurse urged. “You’re carrying a lot on those broad shoulders of yours, young man, and I’m sure it’s much heavier than if you’d been carrying one of your brothers in the service.”

  Desmond’s head fell with a quiet ‘hmph.’

  “I’m serious,” she asserted. “Look, I’m fifty-nine years old. My oldest child, my daughter, is turning forty this year. I already told you how old my son is. Now, I’ve seen your chart and you’re younger than my baby boy. So, if you think you’re going to win this little one-on-one with me with a silent treatment or an angry face, honey you’ve got another think coming. You can’t tell ‘cause I dye it, but my gray hairs come from years of practicing patience with my kids, and not to mention two ex-husbands. But I know that being there for them is why they’re doing so well today.”

  She leaned back in
the chair and folded her arms. “So, talk to me. I have some time.”

  Desmond lifted his head and zeroed in on her name tag. “Maria.”

  “Don’t wear it out,” she said with a nod. Then she made a “come here” motion with her palms facing the ceiling. “Now come on. Spit it out.”

  Desmond squeezed his forehead. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to…talking.”

  She twisted her mouth to reveal a dimple in her left cheek. “Oh honey, you’re so plain-faced that I could probably tell that from just looking at your chart. But since you’re not used to talking, I’m going to give you some sage advice. Are you ready for it?”

  She cleared her throat.

  “This isn’t your fault. You think I can’t see those wheels turning? I can see you blaming yourself. I can see you feeling guilty that she took a bullet for you because you figured that it was your job to love her, and not the other way around.”

  He locked his gaze with hers.

  “I got your attention?” She asked. “Look honey, I’m a mother first, nurse second. I have had my share of experiences. My first husband died when my daughter was twenty-four years old. I lived in New York at the time and she called him on the phone begging him not to be late for dinner because we were meeting her boyfriend, now husband, for the first time. So, he left work early and rushed home, only to end up having a heart attack right there on the metro. When I tell you, that girl blamed herself for years saying that if he’d stayed at work, which was closer to the hospital, he would have been alive today.”

  She touched his knee again. “But honey, you didn’t make Larke jump in front of that bullet. She did it because she loves you. I guarantee she didn’t even think about it. All she saw was that you were in danger and she needed to help you.”

  “But she could have died,” Desmond sharply replied. “She didn’t think about that. She could have died right there in my arms. It was my job to protect her.”

  “In the beginning,” Maria countered. “You know that you love her, but I don’t think you get that she feels the same way about you. Well, now you have proof. It was your duty to protect her, but it became her duty when she fell for you. So now, the only problem I see here is that you have two people in love with each other, but until she’s out of surgery, nothing can come of it.”

  A soft knock resonated from the other side of the door.

  “Come on in,” Maria invited and Desmond felt his heart rate jump when Wren walked into the room. Her face was moist from tears that she tried uselessly to dab away, and her bloodshot eyes and red nose told him that she’d been crying for a while. He braced himself and prepared for the worst.

  “How-are-you-doing, Desmond?” She asked between tears.

  He slid down off of the table and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m okay, Wren. Tell me…how is Larke?”

  With the mentioning of her sister’s name, more tears began to pour from Wren’s eyes. Desmond felt as though a balloon had been inflated in his chest. There was no preparation for this. Nothing could prepare him for this.

  Please…

  “She’s out of surgery,” Wren answered. “The doctor says that the next twenty-four hours will be crucial, but it looks like she’s going to make it.”

  Surprised, Desmond bent to Wren’s level. “Wait, what did you say? It looks like she’s going to make it?”

  She nodded and then crumbled to the floor, taking Desmond down with her. He pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tightly.

  “So…so these are happy tears, then?” He asked, suddenly breathless.

  “Ecstatic tears,” Wren replied. “From the bottom of my heart, Desmond, thank you for everything that you have done. If it weren’t for you, she would be dead. He would have killed her. I know he would have killed her. I just can’t…Oh God, thank you.”

  He placed his cheek on top of her head and gently rubbed her arms as her body racketed with tears. Behind them, Maria wiped at her eyes.

  After a few moments, she patted the exam table. “So, Mr. Harding. About those broken bones?”

  He stood and helped Wren up with him, then gave her a long, tight hug before she made her way back to the hospital lobby. Then, he turned around, and smiled.

  *****

  When Larke opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Desmond uncomfortably sprawled in the hospital guest bed underneath the large room window. With the exception of his left arm, which was wrapped up in a blue cast, he seemed to be intact. Ironically, it was his health that she’d been most worried about, regardless of the fact that she was lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming from different parts of her body.

  The last thing that she remembered was him holding her in his arms and the intense pain moving throughout her body. She’d been sure that she was going to die in the middle of the cabin living room, but even with how terrifying that prospect seemed, she never once questioned why she pushed Desmond out of the way. She would do it again if she had to, but hopefully the opportunity never arose because the end result was still painful as all hell.

  As though he could feel her staring at him, his eyes opened. Realizing that she was awake, he sprung up from the bed and was immediately at her side.

  “Hey you,” he greeted, gently stroking the back of her hand. “Are you in any pain?”

  With the exception of how much more difficult it currently was to take a deep breath, she felt mostly fine. The hospital staff had drugged her up pretty well.

  “I’m not in any pain,” she replied, flipping her hand over so that her palm was facing up. Instinctively, he wrapped his hand around hers.

  “You know I’m mad at you,” he told her.

  Larke smiled. “I figured you would be.”

  He laced their fingers together. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I guess even SEALs get scared, huh?” She joked. The smile that spread across his face was better than any narcotic they could pump through her veins. So was the finger that he was now using to stroke her wrist.

  “Gano and Lindholm survived,” he told her. “Their list of charges are about as long as Les Misérables.”

  She paused. “And Eddie?”

  “Eddie’s dead,” Desmond definitively answered. “Right now, his entire empire is being dismantled. It seems as though he didn’t have as much loyalty as he thought. People are practically falling over each other to try to cut deals with the Feds and avoid as much jail time as possible.”

  Tears filled Larke’s eyes. “So…am I safe?”

  Desmond nodded with a smile. “Yes. You’re safe, baby.”

  He reached down and planted a kiss on her forehead, then used a thumb to wipe the moisture from the corners of her eyes. Desmond couldn’t believe the way he felt at that moment: euphoric, ecstatic, grateful. The prospect of ever leaving Larke’s side, ever again, suddenly seemed outrageous and insane. He was nothing like his father. Actually, the fact that he’d suppressed so much after his mother’s death was the real reason he’d been slowly transforming into the cold, uncaring person that his father had been. His mother, on the other hand, had always encouraged him—in school, life and even when it came to matters of the heart—and now that Larke had opened him up to those possibilities and more, his mother’s spirit was more alive in him now than it had ever been. He’d been so angry about her death that he’d failed to realize that she’d spent her entire life making sure that he didn’t become his father. She’d shown him love and compassion. From a young age, she’d shown him what it meant to care for the people that you loved, and even those that you barely knew. She’d wanted her legacy, not his father’s, to live on through him and by many standards, she’d greatly succeeded.

  “Des, you in here?”

  Doug entered the hospital room looking unremarkably healthy for a man that had just taken a bullet to the abdomen. He was also holding his daughter in his arms, her usually big curly hair pulled back into a puffy ponytail with a glittery headband. Behind him, his wife
trailed in.

  “Are you sure you were shot?” Desmond asked, tugging him in for a quick pat.

  “O ye of little faith,” Doug teased. “Man, I’m made of Teflon. You didn’t know?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware,” Desmond answered. He gave Alisha a hug and tickled Tandi’s cheek.

  “How are you two holding up?” He asked.

  Alisha sighed. Even though she was putting on a brave front, Larke could tell that she was still worried about her husband.

  “I’m trying to feed off of Doug’s positive energy,” she replied. “Somehow, I can’t seem to get over the feeling of being scared to death when they told me that my husband had been shot, as easily as my husband has seemed to have gotten over actually being shot.”

  Doug chuckled and placed a loud smack on Tandi’s cheek. “Leesh, what do I always tell you? No matter what happens, I will always fight my ass off to make sure I come back to my ladies.”

  Tandi scrunched her nose and held out her hand. “Daddy, you owe me a nickel.”

  Doug mimicked her expression. “I’m pretty sure I’m caught up on your allowance. That drawing you left in my pocket with the man on the dollar bill crying ‘red tears’ kinda sped things up.” He turned to the room and whispered, “She said she didn’t have a blue crayon, but I know better.”

  Tandi giggled. “No, Daddy. It’s for the swear jar. You just said a bad word.”

  He glanced at Alisha. “Since when did we get a swear jar?”

  “Since Mommy hit her toe on the bottom of the refrigerator playing hide and seek without knowing that Tandi was in the cupboard.”

  Doug placed another kiss on her cheek. “Okay. I’ll add some money to the swear jar little Miss Casey.”

  Tandi giggled again and Larke found her gaze wandering to Desmond. He was staring at Doug and his daughter with the same wishful smile that he had at Ivor and Eva’s house when he’d watched them on the dance floor.

  “But how are you feeling, Larke?” Doug redirected.

  “I’m good,” she answered. “Better than I thought I would be.”