The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn)

by Cecilia London

  Gabe started cleaning the wound. It was pretty ugly. But the knife had been sharp, so it was a relatively easy fix. Wouldn’t hurt to give it a couple of passes before Crunch started to work. Her cell had been filthy. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Didn’t go below the muscle. It just bled a lot.”

  Crunch turned a shade of green. “It’s sickening. Like somebody tried to fillet her. What kind of despicable fuck would do that to another person?”

  Gabe cringed. “We don’t need to talk about that. You gotta stitch her up. It’s not going to magically heal on its own.”

  Crunch gave Gabe a hard look. “Tell me how this woman is still alive?”

  He shrugged. Fuck if he knew. “You got me. Let’s not lose sight of that bit of grace.”

  Crunch smiled but didn’t look too happy. “One more lucky break in this entire escapade, I guess. What are we going to do about the rest of her?”

  “We’ll worry about that later. I’ll start the IV and get a transfusion going.”

  “Look at you, Nurse Nancy.” Jones brushed back the woman’s matted hair and straightened her out. “Why’d you get a job in the morgue instead of someplace else where you might be useful?”

  “You know they don’t pay people to keep folks alive in there, Jonesie.” Gabe hooked up the IV. “I took what I could get. Good thing I did or Ms. Gerard would be dead right now.”

  Jones gave him a sly look. “Good thing for you I ain’t no snitch.”

  Gabe grinned at him. He’d hit it off with Jones immediately and was grateful for his friendship. Even though they’d been thrown together under less than pleasant circumstances. “I knew you could be trusted. And Crunch here, well, he’s got nothing to lose.”

  “You needed a fairy to flirt with the pharmacy tech in order to filch hard to find medical supplies.” Crunch started to thread a needle, his fingers shaking. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

  Gabe’s smile faded. That was a risk he didn’t want his friend taking again, even if it had worked spectacularly. “Don’t call yourself that.”

  “Just reclaiming the language.” Crunch smiled. “I have his number if we need any more favors.”

  “No,” Gabe said. “You’re not putting yourself out there. Not if we can help it. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ll do what I have to do,” Crunch said. “That guy was an idiot. Total blackmail material. He doesn’t know any fucking better, that closeted hypocrite.”

  “You think he’s gonna get suspicious?” Jones asked. “It’s been a few days but shit, you never know.”

  “I’m so good he barely remembered my name. Or his own. He’s not gonna do anything.”

  Jones made a face. “Man, I don’t need details about what you did.”

  Crunch stuck his tongue out at him. “Someday you’ll get over your homophobia, Jonesie. Someday.”

  “I got nothing against you. I just don’t want to hear about other people having sex. No matter who they’re fucking.”

  Crunch laughed. “Mostly because you aren’t getting any right now.”

  “Bite me.”

  Gabe stepped between the two of them. “What do you need from us, Crunch?”

  “Get that lantern under the kitchen sink and bring it down here. Jonesie, I may need you to hold another flashlight or two.” Crunch examined the gash across the woman’s stomach. “This isn’t going to be easy. You got plenty of antibiotics?”

  Gabe checked the shelf. “I think so. I’ll go upstairs and grab that light.”

  “She’s gonna need drugs,” Crunch called. “Lots of them.”

  “That’s covered,” Gabe shouted back, dashing up the stairs and returning quickly with another lantern.

  Crunch paced back and forth in front of the bed, holding the threaded needle in a trembling hand. “Let’s hope my crude stitch work gets the job done.”

  “Pretend she’s a designer suit,” said Jones.

  Crunch glared at him. “Don’t be a jackass.”

  “Just trying to motivate you.”

  “Work on your technique, because it sucks.”

  “You love me. I’m not working on nothing.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your shitty sense of humor. Show some fucking respect for this woman and what she went through,” Crunch said.

  That comment was enough to give the other man pause. “I’m sorry.” Jones hooked his thumbs into his jeans, rocking back and forth at the foot of the bed. “What do we do about her face?”

  “I can try to set her nose,” Gabe said. “Any other facial fractures will just have to heal on their own.”

  “You a plastic surgeon too?”

  Gabe grimaced. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think the best doctors in the world could make her look like she used to. Those guards are big fans of beating the shit out of people with their toys. I don’t know what to do about her fingers. Splinting and taping them might help.”

  “They did just enough to her, didn’t they? Fucking bastards.” Crunch spat out the words as he started to stitch. Jones winced and looked away. “Can’t stand reality, Jonesie?”

  Jones stared at the floor. “You sure she can’t feel nothing?”

  Gabe knew that Jones was only making jokes to cover up for his own worry. “She’s out cold,” he said. “I’ve given her a bit more Propofol. She’s got enough in her system to last her a while.”

  His reassurances did little to soothe Jones, who began pacing. “You sure you know what you’re doing with that shit, Gabe?”

  “I know enough,” he said. “May as well add amateur anesthesiologist to my list of skills.”

  “As long as you’ve got it under control,” Jones said. “She’s alive, though. Right?”

  Gabe put his fingers on her wrist, timing her pulse with his watch. He tried not to look at the raw, reddened flesh. The outline of a handcuff, the rub of coiled rope. Likely permanent marks. He’d need to bandage her arms too. “Yeah. Not in the greatest shape but not crisis time, either.”

  Jones crossed his arms over his bare chest, looking at the stairwell. “I can’t believe we pulled that shit off. Fucking A. You sure no one knows we brought her here?”

  “No one knows about Crunch and no one followed us home, so I think we’re free and clear. We’ve got quiet neighbors. I pay my taxes. We’re miles away from downtown. We’ll have to show up at work for a while to deflect suspicion, but I really think we did it,” Gabe said proudly. “Sebastian, can you handle our patient alone while we continue our little scam?”

  That was enough to bring Jones’ eyes to his. “Huh?”

  Gabe laughed. “I meant Crunch. Sorry. Does that mean I can’t call you Marcus?”

  Jones made a face. “I hate that name.”

  “Marcus.” Gabe laughed again. “Marcus Aurelius.”

  “Fuck you, man. Don’t start that bullshit now.”

  Gabe marched over to Jones and took a seat on the stairs. “I’ll do whatever I want.”

  “Then I’m gonna start calling you Saint Gabriel again,” Jones said. “And I’ll make sure that lady over there knows all our nicknames for you, too.”

  “I don’t think she’s gonna be talking for a while.” Crunch said absently, distracted by finishing off his own work. He’d managed to complete his task in impressive time. “You just gotta tell me what to do when you leave the two of us here unsupervised. All done,” he said, snipping off the end of the thread and cleaning and bandaging the wound. “What’s next?”

  Gabe stood up and stretched before joining Crunch next to the bed. “Did you see what they did to her back?”

  “Do I want to?”

  He rolled her over. “Does that answer your question?”

  “God, no. Jesus.”

  “That’s what Jonesie said. With a few more adjectives mixed in.”

  “Are those belt marks?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s a lot of - Jesus Christ. Buckle marks too.”

  “She looks like ground chuck,” J
ones observed.

  Gabe gave him a harsh look. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “I’m not saying it’s not upsetting. I just-” Jones swallowed hard. “Whaddaya gonna do about it? I never saw anybody look like that before.”

  Crunch turned to Gabe. “What do you expect me to do about...that?”

  “Nothing.” Gabe started rummaging through the supplies on the shelf. “We just have to clean and bandage her up. Those wounds could get infected easily. I doubt we can do anything other than try to minimize scarring.”

  The men worked quietly, steadfastly, with Gabe doing the bulk of it and barking out directions when necessary. He bandaged her wrists. Set her nose. Replaced the blood transfusion with saline to start getting her hydrated again. Finally, he straightened her fingers. He wasn’t sure if the splint would work but was more focused on mobility than appearance. With any luck she’d heal properly.

  Gabe looked at his watch and realized it was close to dawn. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around the woman, covering her up with a blanket. She was running a low fever, which could either be problematic or promising depending on perspective. He chose to believe her body was doing its best to heal itself. He connected a new bag of saline and gave her another dose of antibiotics.

  “Nice work, guys,” he said. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep.”

  “What about you?” Jones asked.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Gabe said. “She won’t wake up for a while.”

  Jones studied her bandaged face. “Did they even feed her?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “At all?”

  “Maybe water. She’s got all the classic signs of dehydration. It’s not all that terrible.” Gabe glanced over at the machine keeping track of her pulse and blood pressure. Both were low, but steady. He gestured at the numbers. “Her low BP might have been the only thing that kept her from bleeding out before we got to her.”

  Jones shook his head back and forth. “By trying to kill her they kept her alive.”

  “The ironies of life, huh? Couldn’t have been good for her system but she’ll bounce back once she’s rehydrated.”

  “No food, broken bones, and a whupping to within an inch of her life.” Jones clenched his fists. “Those guys will pay. For everything. This is my country, man. Treating good people like dirt. Fuckers.”

  “All in good time, Jonesie. She’s gonna take a while to recover. Maybe months. Hopefully she’ll come around soon so we can get some nutrients in her, or we’ll be in trouble. This may be rough,” Gabe said.

  “We know,” Crunch said. “It’s not like this wasn’t a possibility when we started planning. There was no way she was going to come in here in tip top shape.” He put a reassuring hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “She’s not in this alone. None of us are anymore.”

  Jones walked around the bed again, placing a hand on one of her bandaged wrists. He was unable to keep the apprehension out of his expression.

  “She’s fine.” Gabe motioned toward the monitor again. “She’s alive.”

  “Barely,” he said. “Whaddaya think she’s thinking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Crunch broke in. “What would you be thinking about if you were hanging onto life by a thread?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Gabe said.

  “It’s not good.” Crunch cracked his knuckles. “Fingers are gonna be sore for a while. I’m gonna go pop some aspirin and try to forget why I hurt.”

  Gabe smiled at him. “Go rest up. Good job tonight. You were amazing.”

  “I’ll come down and relieve you in a few hours so you can sleep before work.”

  “Thanks, dude.”

  Jones rubbed his palm back and forth across the top of his head. “No well wishes for me?”

  “Nice job hanging back and trying not to puke, Jonesie.”

  “Fuck you, man. I’m going upstairs.”

  Gabe pulled a chair over to the bed and took the woman’s limp hand. “You’re gonna be all right, Ms. Gerard. We’ve got you now. You’re safe.” He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer that she would recover. “You’re safe.”

  Chapter Two

  The Past

  They were in the car on the way to Sibley Memorial. Caroline asked herself for the millionth time why they lived so far outside the District when it was so hard to get anywhere. The distance wasn’t an issue but the traffic was almost always unbearable. The hospital was maybe twelve miles from their house and it was taking an eternity to get there. Thank God it wasn’t rush hour. But it was the middle of the night, she’d been in labor for a good four hours, and she realized they’d left for the hospital about an hour later than they should have.

  “Nicholas Robert Baumann, if you don’t start driving faster I’m going to push you over and get us there myself,” she gasped.

  Her husband laughed. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll think of something.” Caroline groaned through another contraction. “I’m not kidding, Nicky. Please speed up.”

  “Calm down,” he said. “Your water hasn’t even broken yet.”

  She could only imagine what he’d do if that happened in the car. “My contractions are like two minutes apart.” She grimaced again. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to have this baby in the front seat of your SUV.”

  “Okay.” Nick hit the gas pedal. “You’re going to be fine. Women have been doing this since the beginning of time.”

  Oh, please. He had to stop being so damn supportive. “Don’t give me that crap,” she sputtered. “I guarantee you’d feel differently if you were about to push a basketball out of your ass.”

  Nick was smart enough to know when his wife’s temper was getting short. “We’re never having sex again, are we?”

  She doubled over in pain. “Just. Drive.”

  Her husband accelerated again before stopping short at a red light. “Breathe, honey. Do those exercises we practiced at that birth and parenting class we took.”

  Those exercises had been bullshit. Caroline had just figured that out. She’d been totally duped. The hospital had taken their money while tricking her into thinking that laying down and holding a pillow would solve all of her labor pains. She lifted her head up. “What were we thinking? We’re not ready for this. Are you ready for this? Are you ready to be a parent? What kind of mother am I going to be?”

  Her desperate questions drew a small grin from her husband. “Seriously, hon. Breathe. All this talking is going to stress you out. You’ll be a great mommy. Look, we’re almost there.”

  She hadn’t been paying attention. Longest. Drive. Ever. “They’d better have an epidural ready,” she said. “I want drugs. Lots of drugs.”

  “You don’t want to do this naturally?”

  Was there anything in the passenger seat for her to throw at him? Caroline started to hope her water would break, maybe right when they pulled into the hospital parking lot. That would wipe the grin off his face.

  “Okay, okay,” Nick said. “Just wanted to double check.”

  She gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to start screaming. Not yet. She knew she had a long way to go. Breathing. She could focus on her breathing. On yet another bullshit technique that those nurses had taught her. Damn it, how much money had they spent on those classes? Caroline was going to demand a refund the instant she was wheeled into the delivery room.

  “Calm down. We’re almost there.” Nick made a right turn. “Want me to call your mother?”

  Now he was being an ass. “Stop it, Nicky. I thought you said you wanted me to stay calm.”

  He pulled into the circular drive of the hospital. “Just trying for some levity. Let’s go.”

  * * * * *

  Caroline could think of a lot of entertaining or even mundane things she could do in the span of twelve hours. Screaming her head off for the epidural man, sleeping off some of her fatigue, and discovering that the medication pumping into her spinal cord wouldn’t cut off all the pain�
��none of those made the list.

  She knew she was a wuss but gave no fucks. No one had warned her about how much childbirth sucked. A secret that every woman kept to herself, including those fucking nurses at those fucking classes. So help everyone if one of them happened to wander into her delivery room.

  “I want this to be over,” Caroline spat.

  “Soon,” Nick assured her. He’d done his best to try and keep her calm. He hadn’t even flinched while holding her hands when they put the epidural in. Such a brave little toaster.

  “Your doctor is on her way,” the nurse said. She was a little too jolly given the circumstances. Damn it all.

  “She better be.” Caroline pressed the button for the epidural. The rush she felt earlier didn’t come. She’d maxed it out. Fuck. “Is it supposed to hurt this much? I thought this was why I had drugs.”

  “It doesn’t mask everything,” the nurse said. “But it could be worse, right?”

  She sounded apologetic. Probably because she’d already told Caroline about the time she’d been in labor and her painkillers hadn’t worked. She’d said it in the same sunny voice she’d been using all morning. It made Caroline want to smack her.

  “Right.” Caroline leaned back on the pillow and sighed.

  * * * * *

  Fifteen hours of contractions and thirty minutes of active labor. Yes, it could have been worse. Could have been better since she felt every push, but her very solicitous doctor gave clear instructions and kept her calm. Now that it was over Caroline debated whether or not she ever wanted to endure pregnancy and its many terrible side effects ever again.

  Marguerite Thérèse Baumann was perfect. Stunningly, wonderfully perfect. She screamed her head off as she entered the world, which meant her lungs were clear and her vocal cords worked well. She was, in no uncertain terms, the most beautiful baby who had ever been born. Caroline expressed this thought to the labor and delivery staff, who wholeheartedly agreed.

  It was nice to be humored. Equally nice that Nick hadn’t challenged her on the name. A strong French influence coupled with a fierce German last name. His family would hate it. She didn’t care. She’d already capitulated and agreed to shorten their daughter’s nickname to Mo for expediency’s sake. Nicky didn’t like being bogged down by too many syllables. Full names were for disciplinary purposes only. Caroline didn’t like that approach, but he’d learn. That little girl was going to have him wrapped around her finger.