Nine
Ali
My phone was sitting out of my reach on the table where they set my breakfast. If you could call it breakfast. As the morning nurse had said when she came in to introduce herself, chicken broth and cherry gelatin this early in the morning would ruin the appetite of a starving person.
When I tried leaning forward to get my cell, level-ten pain shot through me. I hit the button that delivered morphine once and then figured, as much as they were pestering me to use it, I’d do it again. Seconds later, the nurse came back in.
“Bad this morning?” she asked.
“I tried to get my phone.”
“You know what this is for, right?” She set the combination television remote, bed adjuster, call button in my hand before moving my cell within reach.
“I’m not very good at asking for help.” The door opened, and Cope walked in, carrying a beverage tray and a bag.
“Coffee delivery?” the nurse asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
Cope picked up the silver dome covering my chicken broth and set it back down. “Yuck.”
The nurse nodded her head at his bag. “Whatever is in there, she can’t eat. Not yet. Maybe after the doctor sees her.”
“What about me?” asked the doctor I recognized from the emergency room.
I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes. After not sleeping last night, it was all I wanted to do now. Given the pain was subsiding, I assumed the morphine had something to do with my drowsiness. I wished all these people would leave, so I could rest.
I felt Cope’s fingers brush the hair from my forehead. It was something I was growing accustomed to, and that was just weird. I opened my eyes and looked into his.
“Desi said you had a hard night.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I murmured.
“I would say you have to stay on a liquid diet and confiscate whatever goodness is in this bag,” said the doctor, “but that would just be cruel.” He took a look at the monitors and checked my pulse. “I will need you to step out, young man,” he said to Cope.
“You can head out if you need to,” I told him, garnering raised eyebrows from him and the nurse. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Cope stood where he was, staring at me as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Was it my imagination, or did he look hurt?
“I’ll come back in when the doctor’s finished.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him.
“Trouble in paradise?” the doctor asked. “Take a deep breath,” he said, not waiting for me to answer his question.
“I don’t even know him,” I mumbled when he moved the stethoscope away from my chest.
“Have you remembered anything about the accident?”
“Bits and pieces.” It was part of the reason I couldn’t sleep. Every time I drifted off, I could see the car barreling toward me.
“If that’s the case, I don’t see any reason you can’t go home today.” The doctor typed something on the keyboard of a laptop and motioned with his head toward the door. “If he’s your ride, I can speed up your release.”
Was he? Would it be silly—not to mention, rude—if I called Desi and asked her to come all the way back here, especially since she’d spent the night with me? “That would be great. Thanks,” I said when the doctor walked out.
Before Cope came back in, I needed to call Jessica and let her know I was being released from the hospital. When we spoke briefly last night, she hadn’t yet decided how she wanted me to proceed; however, she found Cope’s constant attention a win.
“Can I get you anything else right now?” the nurse asked.
My ringing cell startled me. “Um, actually, if the guy who was in here earlier is still out there, could you ask him to wait a few more minutes before coming in?”
She gave me the thumbs up and walked out.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jessica asked when I answered.
“The doctor just left. He said I can go home today.”
“Good news. What’s your plan?”
“You tell me.”
“Has Cope said anything more about feeding you reports on the trial?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk this morning. Right after he got here, the doctor came in.”
“He’s there?”
“Out in the hallway, but yeah.”
“Roll with it, Ali.”
“Understood.” I set my phone down and rested my head against the pillow. I knew Jessica would be happy when I told her Cope was here. There was something else I hadn’t told her, and if I had, she would not have been the slightest bit pleased. She’d be furious to the point of pulling me off the assignment if she knew how hard I was falling for the man who had just rapped on the door, asking if he could come back in.
“The doctor said I can break you out of here.”
Before I could respond, the nurse from earlier returned. “The doctor had one more question before he signs off on letting you go home.” She looked between Cope and me. “I need you to assure me you’re not going to be there on your own. For an hour or two, it’s okay, but not longer than that. Do you have someone who—”
“I’ll be with her.”
“What?” I gasped and then put my hand on my side, where a stabbing pain shot through me. “No, my friend…she’s in town…staying with me.”
“Okay, as long as there’s someone. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Why did you say that?” I asked between shallow breaths.
“Because if you need someone with you, I can be that person.”
I shook my head. “You can’t. The trial.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Cope?”
When he took my hand in his, I couldn’t deny the zing of electricity that flowed through me, but what I had to say was important. “You’re a nice guy, but this—me—isn’t your responsibility. I honestly don’t know why you feel like it is. Whatever you think you need to atone for, you don’t. I’m a big girl and I’ll be fine.”
I held up one finger when my cell rang and I saw it was Desi calling. “I thought you’d be asleep,” I answered.
“I would be, but there’s a problem, sweetie. I know I just got here, but one of my employees has appendicitis and has to have emergency surgery. I’m so sorry to do this, but I need to fly home as soon as I can catch a flight.”
“Don’t apologize, Des. Do what you need to do. I’ll be fine.”
“What’s wrong?” Cope asked when I ended the call.
I bit my bottom lip, wishing I didn’t have to tell him that my friend had to leave already. “Desi owns a grooming and pet-sitting business. One of her employees has to have surgery, so she has to go home.”
He nodded in a way that made me wish I had anyone else I could call. I hated being pitied, and the look on his face was all about feeling sorry for me.
“Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath.
Cope pulled his hand away and stood so abruptly that it startled me. “Here’s the thing, Ali. If I’m so offensive to you, then sure, do this on your own.”
I was stunned, which quickly morphed into feeling like an absolute shit. “Wait,” I said when he put his hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t walk out, but he didn’t speak or even look at me.
“I’m trying to let you off the hook, not insult you.”
He turned around then. “Just let me do this.” His voice spoke directly to my heart.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He let out a breath and walked back over to me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
He sat down and looked into my eyes. “You did, so you’ll have to make it up to me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I wondered what he had in mind. Gauging by the heat in his eyes, I could guess. The last thing I should be doing was hoping.
T
en
Cope
I’d expected my little spitfire—the way I’d begun referring to Ali in my mind—to have a fit when I took her to my apartment instead of hers. She didn’t disappoint. However, the trip from the hospital here had done her in.
“I can walk, Cope,” she’d argued when I pulled a wheelchair I’d borrowed out of the trunk.
“You sure about that?” I’d bruised some ribs playing football and remembered they hurt like hell.
She turned to get out of the car, and even that was too much.
“Ready?” I asked, standing with my hands on my hips.
When she glared at me, I laughed and brought the wheelchair closer.
She was so exhausted by the time we got upstairs, that she didn’t have the strength to complain when I wheeled her into what was obviously my bedroom rather than the guest room.
When we got the final okay to leave the hospital, I’d gone ahead of Ali and the nurse wheeling her downstairs, and brought my rental around to the entrance. I used that time to call the one woman I knew would help me without asking questions—my mother.
Not that she never would. Eventually, she’d fire them at me faster than an M134 Minigun. However, she’d wait until after she did everything I’d asked.
Laurel Margaret Browning-Copeland was a graduate of Bryn Mawr, where she’d parlayed her degree in political science into becoming a senator’s wife. I sometimes wondered if my father’s campaigns and subsequent career would have been successful had he married someone else. The two shared a bond I envied. They’d met when she was a sophomore at her alma mater and my father was a grad student at nearby Villanova. Their courtship was the stuff of fairy tales, and clearly, my mother thought of my father as her very own Prince Charming. While many political couples put that face forward in public, having spent eighteen years growing up in their home, I knew firsthand that their love story was authentic.
“Can I help?” my mom asked, coming into the room where I was trying to figure out how best to get Ali from the wheelchair onto the bed.
“By the way, I’m Laurel, Sumner’s mother.” She walked around the chair, sat on the bed, and held her hand out.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Ali Graham. Sumner’s charity case.”
My mother smiled and put her hand on the arm of the wheelchair. “Sumner, if you put this down, you can reach around and gather Ali in your arms. Which side is the worst, sweetheart?”
“The right,” Ali answered. My mom put the other arm down and directed me to come around to the opposite side.
“She just said the right hurt the worst.” My mother pointed to Ali’s left arm. “Good point,” I mumbled, feeling like a jackass. “Ready?” I asked, putting one arm behind her knees and the other around her back. I swept her up as gently as I could and then rested her body against the wall of pillows my mother was tucking in around her.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“It’s fine,” Ali grunted, trying to adjust her body into a comfortable position.
“Where are her pain meds?” my mom asked.
“Kitchen.”
She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Don’t just stand there. Go get them.”
I could hear them talking as I rushed off, but not what either was saying. No doubt, my mother knew the exact right words to put Ali at ease, and for that, I was grateful.
I hurried back, bottle of pills and glass of water in hand, and saw the door was closed. Seconds later, it opened, and my mother reached her hand out. “That’s all for now, Sumner,” she said, closing it again as I stood stupefied.
Not knowing what else to do, I went back to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and walked over to the window. The streets below were crowded with people no doubt rushing to get lunch during the mid-day break. Every so often, a runner would weave their way through the crowd or a bicyclist would whiz past the cars stuck in traffic gridlock.
How long had it been since I did any exercise outside? I couldn’t remember. Maybe that’s why, when I saw the bike in the window of the building across the way, I’d gone out and bought my own. At least I could look out to where there was fresh air, even if it wasn’t blowing in my face.
“She’s asleep.” My mother’s voice was soft.
“Thanks for coming over, Mom.”
She put her hand on my shoulder and leaned against me. “She seems nice.”
I waited for a barrage of questions that didn’t come. Instead, after a few minutes, my mother asked if I thought I’d be okay on my own. After I assured her I would be, she left, leaving me feeling perplexed.
I pulled out my laptop and sat on the stool at my kitchen counter. I needed to get a message to Warrick. I knew him well enough to predict he was in full panic mode. I was just about to call Hammer when I got a message from one of the men Decker had assigned.
In position, the text message read.
Copy, I responded and pulled up Hammer’s number.
“Hey, Cope.”
“How’s Irish?”
“Fucking pussy,” Hammer muttered.
It was an opinion many in the intelligence community shared, but it wasn’t a fair one. Until recently, no one but Irish and me knew exactly what I’d asked the man to undertake for the last seven years. Upon his arrest, Warrick had been vilified from every direction, and yet he hadn’t cracked. Even to Rage, who was the Invincibles’ man on the inside, making sure no one could get to him.
“Tell him I’ll get with him as soon as I can.”
“You got it. Anything else?”
I wanted to tell Hammer to reassure Irish, but that would only piss him off more. The last thing Irish needed was the attorney giving him shit.
No one knew Irish better than I did, inside the CIA or out.
He and I met at Camp Peary—known within the agency as “The Farm”—where we both underwent training for the Clandestine Service Division. We’d spent eighteen months at the highly classified, nine-thousand-acre military camp where the lead instructor was known for telling every new recruit, “It doesn’t matter who you used to be or who you are. All that matters is who we teach you to be.”
Irish had arrived a couple of months before I did, but lagged behind me in his completion of several of the milestones. When I was approached to become his training partner, I didn’t know what they really had in mind was for me to become his handler.
In hindsight, it was easy for me to understand why the company had chosen that role for me rather than put me out in the field. I’d been too green back then to realize the kinds of risks that would present themselves if it became known who my father was.
From then on, Irish and I were a team in a way I never had been with the other agents I handled. It was probably harder on me than it was on Warrick, when people like Hammer gave him shit. I was the one who’d created the reputation he had, and it had served us well in the missions we’d run together.
The mission now, though, outweighed every other and was dependent upon Irish being able to hold his shit together without my constant attention.
By three in the afternoon, I was hungry. I eased my bedroom door open and was relieved to find Ali still asleep, especially after what Desi had said about her not getting any rest last night.
Rather than going downstairs and placing my order in person, I called the café. “Hey, Cope, how’s the patient?” Lindsey asked.
“Asleep for now, but when she wakes up, she’s going to be as hungry as I am.” The line was quiet on the other end. “Linds?”
“I’m here. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate your business, but…doesn’t the hospital have food? Or isn’t there somewhere closer you can pick something up?”
“We’re here. She was released this morning.”
“Here?”
“Upstairs.”
“In your apartment?”
“Lindsey? What the hell? Yes! Now can I order some food?”
“Don’t get your tighty-whities al
l bunched up. I’m surprised is all.”
After I placed my order, Lindsey offered to have the food delivered so I didn’t have to leave Ali alone. When I opened the door thirty minutes later, I didn’t expect to see her standing on the other side of it.
Rather than invite her in, I took the bags out of her hands, eased the door closed with my foot, and told her I’d be right back. She had her arms folded when I handed her cash for the food. “Who’s got their tighty-whities in a bunch now?” I said when she didn’t take the money from me.
She grabbed the bills from my hand and spun around toward the elevator without another word. “Keep the change,” I called out after her.
When I walked into the kitchen and found Ali standing at the counter, looking white as a ghost, I rushed over to her. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I had to…you know…use the bathroom.”
“Maybe you should sit down.” I pulled the stool I’d been sitting on out and turned it so she could lean into it. It was the perfect height that she didn’t have to bend down or climb up.
“That smells really good.”
I smiled and winked. “I got all your favorites.”
She smiled too, at least briefly, reminding me that she probably needed another pain pill. I grabbed the bottle, set it in front of her, and poured a glass of water.
When I turned back around, she was looking at my laptop.
“Sorry,” she muttered when our eyes met. “Don’t worry, I can’t see anything. I don’t have my contacts in, and I have no idea where my glasses are.”
Contacts? Glasses? “When’s the last time you had them?”
“Which?”
“Let’s start with your glasses since they’ll be easier to find.”
“Yesterday morning. Wait. What day is it?”
“You haven’t missed any. It’s Wednesday.”
“I left them in the apartment.”
“I can go get them for you.”
She eased forward and put her head in her hand. “I need more than my glasses, Cope.” Her eyes opened wide. “Where’s my laptop? And my purse? And my phone? And my wallet? Shit!”
Handled: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World) Page 6