The Family's Secrets

by T N Lowe

  From the corner of my eye, I see Tomas nod to CJ. While Billy and Bryan are distracted with Pepper’s body, they abruptly stand and rush our jailers. Tomas and Billy fall to the floor, but Billy quickly overpowers Tomas. CJ takes on Bryan, landing several punches, disorientating him.

  “Get back in your chairs or I will fucking shoot you,” Willow screams.

  Willow raises the gun, pointing it at CJ. Fi-Fi sees it too, “No, you don’t,” she warns as she lunges at Willow. The gun clatters to the floor as Willow tries but fails to fight her off . Fi-Fi pins Willow to the wall and is wildly whaling on her.

  Nikolas watches, unable to comprehend what is happening. He watches as Fi-Fi lands blow-after-blow onto Willow.

  I turn back to see that Tomas is getting the best of Billy, but Billy is trying to reach the gun that Willow dropped. Nikolas finally shakes off his surprise as Erin rushes for the gun. He moves quickly, grabbing her around the waist, pinning her against the wall. Billy successfully gets his finger through the trigger guard and raises the weapon, shouting, “Get the fuck back! Get back now, or I will blow your fucking brains out!”

  The room falls silent as Tomas stands, backing up. Fi-Fi releases Willow hair, more than a few strands coming with her, and Nikolas continues to hold Erin, pinned to the wall. However, CJ was able to get Bryan’s gun from him and is pointing it at him. “You pull yours and I’ll pull mine,” CJ informs Billy.

  All hell breaks loose. There is a loud boom upstairs, men are yelling, boots are clambering on the old wooden floor; Billy is startled by the ruckus and pulls the trigger, shooting Tomas in the chest.

  Fi-Fi and Erin scream as they watch Tomas fall to the floor, blood pouring from the wound. CJ drops the gun he is holding and races to Tomas’ side along with Fi-Fi. Erin breaks free of Nikolas’s hold, shakes him off and drops to her knees next to Tomas. Bryan bends and picks up the discarded gun.

  “See what the hell is going on up there,” Willow orders. Billy hands her back the gun she used on Pepper before he and Bryan take off running to do her bidding.

  “Samuel, your shirt,” Erin shouts.

  I slip my jacket off and rip my shirt open, buttons flying across the basement. Pulling it off my back, I toss it to Erin.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - Erin

  “He’s dead, leave the poor man alone,” Willow scoffs, looking down on us as if we are small children. Waving her gun at us, she demands, “Vote. Vote me in as the new leaders of The Family.”

  “He is not dead,” I shout back, holding two fingers to Tomas’s jugular, feeling the slowing beat of his pulse. “Are you fucking crazy?” I scream, trying to be heard over the fighting and gunfire above us.

  “Watch it, Erin, or you’ll join the young man in the afterlife,” Willow warns.

  “He’s not fucking dead,” I scream, then stand from Tomas’s side. “I’ve met several crazy bitches in my time, but you take the cake. First, you try to kill Lena, one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, someone who would never even hurt a fly. Then you partner up with someone who hated Lena for years because her mother broke up his parents; now somehow, you manipulate Pepper into releasing you from prison; join up with Nikolas to kidnap Rylie and Shauna; use The Curtain to track members of The Family through some crazy algorithm and kill the man who wrote it; lure us and kidnapped us, shoot our friend, and now you want us to vote you in as the leader of The Family!?! Not happening.”

  “He needs a fucking hospital,” CJ snarls, loud enough to be heard over the fighting and gunfire above us.

  “You’re next,” Willow states, raising her gun and pointing it at me.

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes, praying that Landon and Jackson will forgive me for mouthing off at the wrong time.

  Boom! Boom! The door to the basement flies down the stairwell, hitting the wall. Bryan rolls down the stairs landing on the floor in front of the stairs in such a way that he would never get up again. Immediately, there are boots racing downstairs.

  Willow returns her attention back to me and points the weapon. I close my eyes again.

  “Drop the weapon,” a man orders from behind me.

  Willow looks over my shoulder, then looks at me again. “You are the reason my twin brother is dead. He couldn’t get over you. He knew you were the one for him and that got him killed. I won’t let you be the reason I join him,” she states, setting down her gun.

  My body trembles from the anxiety and adrenalin coursing through my veins. When two large hands clamp down, I scream at the top of my lungs as I throw my elbows back, catching someone in the gut. I spin, ready to hit my would-be attacker in the jaw but he catches my fist and spins me back around. “Erin, sweetheart it’s me,” Landon whispers in my ear.

  “Oh thank God!” I cry, spinning around and burying my face in his chest.

  In my exchange with Willow, I hadn’t noticed that others have joined us. I look down at Tomas and see two men with a large medical kit examining Tomas. “Is he going to be okay?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question the second the words leave my mouth.

  “I don’t know ma’am; he needs a hospital now,” one of the men tells me.

  As they move Tomas onto a stretcher, I hear someone say, “It’s done.” We have the suspects in custody and the President is okay.” I look over my shoulder to see Josh, a local mercenary, on the phone. While in the FBI, our paths crossed a couple of times. He lifts his chin at me in greeting and I return it. “We’re taking Mr. Ramirez to Carroll Hospital.” Josh listens to the person on the other end of the line, then says, “We’ll meet you there,” then he disconnects.

  Turning to face us, Josh says, “Once we get everyone to the hospital, you’ll be free to go after, if you wish.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine - Rylie

  I’ve been sitting on pins and needles for hours waiting for an update. Now I’m done waiting; I’m walking towards the office that Patrick has set up and overhear him, Liam, Dylan, and Dad talking.

  “It was Pepper?” Dylan asks.

  “I didn’t see that coming,” Dad says, the surprise evident in his voice.

  “Is everyone okay?’ Liam asks.

  “Tomas was shot in the chest. The medics aren’t sure he’s going to make it to the hospital,” Patrick informs the room.

  No. No, no, no, no!!! This is not happening. Tomas was shot in the chest. I just found him; he can’t leave me. Tomas was shot in the chest. They don’t think he will make it to the hospital. Tomas was shot in the chest. The words play in my head again. It’s not true, I tell myself. Patrick must be wrong. I stumble into the office. “Rylie,” Patrick snaps.

  “Honey, what are you doing here?” Dad asks.

  “Please,” I beg, hoping for Patrick to be wrong.

  “Sweetheart,” Liam pleads.

  “Please,” I raise my voice, “please tell me it’s not true,” I beg, the tears collecting in my eyes. “Tell me that Tomas is okay.”

  “Honey,” Dad tries again, sadness in his soft voice.

  “No! Tomas can’t be….,” I wail like a banshee and drop to my knees.

  Dad, Patrick, Liam, and Dylan rush to my side and drop to their knees, holding and supporting me like they have my whole life.

  “Shhh honey. It’s going to be okay,” Dylan comforts, rubbing my back.

  “Y-you… d-d-don’t…. know… t-that,” I sob.

  “Sweetheart. I haven’t known Tomas long, but one thing I do know is that man loves you and he will do whatever it takes to get back to you,” Liam whispers.

  “I w-won’t do this without him,” I comment.

  “Honey,” Dad whispers, trying to calm me.

  “Yes, Tomas was shot in the chest. But thanks to Erin, Fi-Fi, CJ, and Samuel’s quick thinking, he was still alive when the team arrived. They took him to Carroll Hospital, that’s all I know,” Patrick whispered.

  I cry and pray to every God and everything that is Holy for Tomas to be okay; for him to live; for us to live a long, happy life together wit
h lots of babies and grandbabies.

  Dad, Patrick, Liam, and Dylan hold me until I’m able to collect myself and to dry my tears.

  “Okay?” Dylan asks.

  I nod.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s get to the hospital. Tomas will want to see you after he wakes up,” Dad states, helping me to my feet.

  I bury my face in Dad’s chest, “Will you guys come with me?”

  Dad rubs my back, “Honey, we aren’t letting you out of our site.”

  Twenty minutes later everyone piles into three SUVs and we haul ass to Carroll Hospital.

  With traffic, it takes almost two hours to get to the hospital. Before the SUV even comes to a complete stop, I toss my door open and sprint to the information desk. “I’m looking for Tomas Ramirez; he came in about two hours ago,” I pant.

  The elderly volunteer sitting at the desk pounds on the keys of the computer sitting in front of her. “He’s still in surgery. The surgery waiting room is on the third floor; have a seat there and the doctor will be out when he or she is done.”

  Before I can run for the elevator, my family is piling into the entryway. “He’s still in surgery on the third floor,” I say over my shoulder, jogging to the elevator.

  “We’ll catch up,” Patrick says with Andrew on his hip.

  Blessedly the elevator doors open as I approach. I bounce on the balls of my feet as the occupants disembark. As soon as it’s clear, I jump into the car, push the button repeatedly until the doors close, and it continues its way to the third floor. As it moves, I start to tremble and I wrap my arms around my midsection, my mind filling with all the things that can be wrong. The elevator dings its arrival to the third floor and the tears I’ve been holding back are flowing down my cheeks as its doors open.

  I race into the surgery waiting room and stop at the information booth, “Tomas Ramirez?” I ask.

  “Are you family?” The young nurse at the desk asks.

  Without thinking, I reply, “I’m his fiancée.”

  She nods, looking down at her computer screen, “Mr. Ramirez is still in surgery. Have a seat; the doctor will be out when he is done.”

  My heart hurts as I walk meekly into the waiting room. I crumble into a waiting room chair. Erin arrives and sits in the chair to my right with Fi-Fi taking the seat to my left. They each take one of my hands, “How are you?” Erin asks softly.

  I shrug, worried that if I open my mouth, I’ll start crying again.

  Fi-Fi gives my hand a gentle squeeze, “Do you need anything?”

  I shake my head in the negative. The only thing I need is to know that Tomas will be okay.

  The waiting room door swings open and the rest of the family walks in. Erin and Fi-Fi let my hands go and stand, helping to make room for my brothers to be by my side. The girls kiss my cheek, then leave and sit next to their husbands.

  Patrick sits Andrew in my lap, knowing that holding this precious little one comforts me. Then my Dad, brothers and their wives, or soon to be wife in Dylan’s case, surround me. We huddle together and wait.

  Three hours pass before we get an update. A nurse in blue scrubs enters the waiting room, “Tomas Ramirez’s family?”

  I stand, “Yes?”

  “The surgeon asked me to come out and give you an update. Mr. Ramirez suffered a gunshot to the chest; the bullet nicked his aorta, punctured a lung, and there is a possibility of damage to the spinal cord. So far though, Mr. Ramirez is tolerating the surgery well,” the nurse informs us.

  “Do you know how much longer he’ll be in surgery?” Patrick asks.

  “It’s hard to tell since it is delicate work. It could possibly take another two to four hours,” the nurse replies.

  “Thank you for letting us know,” Patrick replies as I turn to him and lean into his shoulder, looking for his strength to get me through this ordeal.

  Another three hours pass before the door opens again and a gray-haired man wearing green scrubs enters, “The Ramirez family?”

  I stand and walk to him.

  “Mr. Ramirez is out of surgery. He did very well, considering the amount of damage he sustained. He’ll stay in the ICU until we are sure he is stable,” the doctor reveals, looking tired but satisfied.

  “Can I see him?” I squeak.

  The doctor nods and gives me a small smile, “He’ll be in recovery for about thirty more minutes before he will be moved to ICU, and then you can see him. He will be unconscious probably for a few more hours, from the anesthesia.”

  I nod as Dad shakes the doctor’s hand, “Thank you, Doctor.”

  We wait another forty minutes before a staff member leads me to the ICU. After washing my hands and donning a mask, I enter Tomas’s ICU room. The first thing I take in is the color of his skin; it’s so gray looking; his hair is a wild mess, not the standard gelled back look he usually has; but he seems peaceful with his eyes closed, his chest gently rising and falling.

  Then I notice that Tomas takes up the whole bed; from side rail to side rail, and from headboard to footboard. I know Tomas is a big guy, but he looks massive in the hospital bed. They have him dressed in a hospital gown, something he will not be happy with. Different colored wires are coming from a slit in his gown, running to the heart monitor sitting to the right of his bed. The machine gently repeats the rhythm of his heartbeats, filling the room with his life.

  To the left of the bed is an IV pole, pumping three different bags of liquid into his left arm. Gently, trying not to disturb Tomas, I sit on the edge of the bed and take his hand in mine, tears flowing like rivers down my cheeks. “Come back to me,” I whisper. I squeeze his hand and confess, “I love you, honey.”

  There is a soft knock door. I turn and see the nurse who helped me gown up, “Sorry honey, but he needs his rest.”

  I kiss his knuckles before leaving.

  “Don’t worry, honey he’s in good hands,” the nurse comforts me.

  I nod, still feeling shell shocked.

  “Why don’t you give me your number? If anything changes, I’ll call you.”

  I write my number down for her. “Thank you,” I begin to cry as I move out of the room.

  “Try to get some sleep, honey,” the nurse says behind me.

  “Any changes?” I ask, trying to be cheerful, arriving at the ICU early the next morning.

  “No, honey,” a new nurse answers.

  My disappointment must show on my face because she pats my hand, “It’s not a bad thing. He is still stable and doing well. He’s on some heavy-duty pain medication to keep him comfortable and the rest will help his body heal. Sit by his bed, hold his hand, and talk to him.”

  I nod as I go to the sink, washing my hands and putting on a mask. Setting my purse in the chair, I dig through it and find a comb. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I comb his wild black locks to a more manageable state. Then I have a great idea, poking my head into the hall I ask the nurse, “Would it be okay if I clean him up a bit?”

  The nurse at the desk gives me a small smile, “Sure honey, just be careful of his IV and don’t wash near the incision sites.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to wash his face and arms. I don’t want to disturb him too much,” I reply.

  “That will be fine,” the nurse replies, turning back to her computer.

  Moving to the small sink in the room, I wet a washcloth I find sitting on the counter with warm water. Moving back to his bedside, I begin stroking his face and neck. Going back to the sink to rinse the washcloth, I then clean his right arm. Softly, I wipe it up and down, touching every inch of his warm skin. Going back to the sink again, I rinse the cloth and move to his left arm, repeating the same process as the right. After finishing my ministrations, I toss the cloth into the sink and sit back in the chair next to Tomas. Taking his hand in mine, I kiss his knuckles through my mask and whisper, “Good morning, honey.”

  I spend the next two hours jabbering about everything and nothing, all the while praying that my love will be okay. Later, an o
lder, feminine version of Tomas walks into the room with an older man following behind her with his hands on her shoulders; these have to be Tomas’s parents I guess. They stand in the doorway, staring at his sleeping form in the small bed. I’m so thankful that I took the time to comb his hair and clean him up.

  Standing, I whisper, “Hello.”

  The couple turns, looking startled since they hadn’t seen me there. Their eyes then look down at my hand linked with Tomas’s. His mother’s eyes soften, “Hello,” she rasps, her voice full of tears. “You must be Rylie.”

  I nod.

  “I’m Rosemary and this is my husband Sal. We are Tomas’s parents.”

  “It is nice to meet you both,” I say, only letting go of Tomas’s hand to shake theirs. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

  Rosemary and Sal nod, sorrowful smiles crossing their faces. “How is he?” Sal asks.

  “The nurses keep telling me he is doing well, but he hasn’t woken up yet.”

  Sal and Rosemary move further into the room and sit in the chairs on Tomas’s left. Rosemary also takes Tomas’s hand in hers and wraps blue rosary beads around it, holding tightly. “The nurse said you are his fiancée,” Sal comments, one eyebrow lifting in question.

  I bite my lower lip, “Um…sorry about that. It was the only way they’d tell me anything and let me in to see him.”

  “Not to worry,” Sal smiles. “I’m happy that he didn’t have to be here alone, waiting for us.”

  I nod, picking up Tomas’s other hand and squeezing it. “I want you both to know that even though we’ve only been together for a couple of months, we are in love.”

  Sal smiles again, “I know my boy and when he wants something he goes for it; all in and nothing and no one can change his mind. I’m sure he loves you very much.”

  I blush at his remark and look down at Tomas’s hand and my hand tangled together.

  Chapter Forty - Rylie