by Liliana Hart
The nature of the hospital didn’t always allow for the family to know the truth of how their loved one had been killed or injured in the line of duty. Many didn’t know their loved ones were working special ops or working for the government at all. They were regular people, living their normal lives before getting the call anyone would dread getting about a loved one. They had no idea why they had to come to a hospital in the middle of Montana, or what their loved one was doing there. Accident reports were oftentimes falsified to not blow the agent’s cover, even after death.
But that wasn’t the case with the MacKenzies. They were all involved and aware of what was at risk. They put their lives on the line each and every day. And those who served, and the people who loved those who served, knew there was a chance that they might pay the ultimate sacrifice.
The MacKenzies would also know a bullshit answer to their question if they heard one. They’d all seen the severity of Shane’s wounds. And they had to know, at least in some part of their mind, that his chances of survival were slim.
Lacey had seen Shane off and on during the last eight years, though they’d never been introduced. She’d always tried to keep her distance from the family, even though they’d tried to take her into the fold. She turned down dinners and party invitations on a regular basis, wanting to keep her relationship with them strictly business. She could admit the self-imposed distance was mostly out of fear of the unknown. She had no idea how to assimilate to family dynamics like theirs. In theory, she knew what family was supposed to be like, but experience had taught her that theory didn’t always mean reality. She figured she was better off keeping her distance.
But there’d always been something about the MacKenzies that had drawn her interest. The way they treated each other. The way they always had each other’s backs. Their love seemed genuine and there weren’t ulterior motives or expectations of payback for that love. There had always been a pang of envy as she’d observed them. She’d never seen another family like them, which made her think maybe they were the anomaly instead of the norm.
Lacey would have never admitted it to anyone but herself, but she’d found her eye wandering more than once toward Shane MacKenzie. There was something about him that commanded attention, even as much as Declan himself did. He was one of those men who could walk in a room and everyone knew he was in charge. It wasn’t because he was louder than the others or because he thought himself more important. It was because his presence demanded respect and authority.
She’d watched long enough to know that not everyone in his family gave him the credit he deserved. They saw him as the youngest. As someone who liked to joke around and never took much of anything seriously. As a man whose favorite pastime seemed to be women. All of those things were true. To a degree. But there was great intelligence behind the façade he showed his family. There was bravery, valor, pride, sacrifice, and the demons that only a soldier who’d experienced unspeakable horrors had to combat. He piqued her curiosity like no one ever had, and she admired the quiet inner strength that often went unnoticed by others.
The private waiting room was full, and she recognized many of the faces she saw there as being immediate family members. Faces that were filled with worry and grief. Mary and James MacKenzie, Shane’s parents, sat at the center, their children, grandchildren, nieces, and nephews gathered around them for support. There were no tears or hysterics. Just stoic, grief-stricken people who were counting on each other for the support they needed.
“I’m sorry for making you wait so long,” she told them, stepping into the room. A dozen or more anxious faces stared at her with hands clasped as they waited for the news. Lacey looked straight at Mary MacKenzie. “He’s just out of surgery and has been moved to the intensive care unit.”
Mary let out a shuddering breath and hope filled her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She’d prepared herself for the worst. And the worst might still be yet to come.
“We lost him twice on the operating table,” she said, “but he’s strong and he’s a fighter. The blast caused some internal bleeding and there was shrapnel embedded around the heart that made things very touch and go. Once we stabilized all the internal injuries and stopped the bleeding we were able to assess the external damage to his body.”
Declan took a step away from his mother and stuck his hands in his pockets. She knew soldiers. She’d been one. And she knew what the loss of limbs could mean. Declan knew it too.
She turned her attention to Declan and said, “We had to take the leg. There wasn’t anything we could do to save it.”
He nodded curtly and his lips formed a thin line.
“We’ve only taken the one leg for now. The other is in bad shape as well, and he might never have full use of it. We’ll keep an eye on it for infection and let you know if we think it’s best to take that one as well.”
Lacey looked back at Mary and saw the tears streaming silently down her cheeks. “He’s not breathing on his own, but there is brain activity.”
“When will he wake up?” she asked.
“That’s what we need to discuss,” Lacey said.
It was best to get this part out of the way as quickly as possible. Delaying or softening it wouldn’t ease their pain. And it wouldn’t ease hers. Whether she’d wanted to be brought in to the fold or not, she was here in the thick of things. She cared about this family.
“He’s not out of the woods yet. His chances for survival are still at the fifty-fifty mark. In seventy-two hours we’ll be able to upgrade his condition if there have been no changes. He’s going to need you when he wakes up. He’s going to comprehend and accept the damage done to his body, but he’s going to have a difficult time accepting the loss of his leg. To a soldier like Shane, the loss of that limb is going to signify the loss of everything most important to him. He’s going to be resistant. He’s going to be angry.”
“We’ll do whatever we need to do to get him through this,” Mary said. “All of us will.”
“Once he’s healed enough, physical therapy is going to be essential. It’s going to be painful and he’s going to hate every minute of it. But unless he wants to be confined to a wheelchair forever he’s got to get the leg he does have in working order. I just want you all to know that he’s not the only one who’s going to have a rough road ahead of them. I’d also recommend counseling.”
“Thank you, Doctor Shaw,” Mary said, coming to her feet and taking both of Lacey’s hands in hers. “We owe you our son, and we’ll always be grateful. I know you were there every step of the way, even though you didn’t have to be.”
Mary enfolded her in a hug, and Lacey found she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Had she ever been hugged by another adult in a non-romantic way? She didn’t think so. She put her arms around Mary MacKenzie awkwardly and patted the other woman’s back.
“Can I talk to you outside?” Declan asked her once his mother had released her.
“Sure,” she said with relief. She needed the escape as much as he did.
Once they were in the hallway she turned to face him.
“Is there anything you didn’t tell us?”
“No,” she said, lips quirking. “I figured you all could handle the whole truth. I meant what I said though. His chances are still iffy at best. And once he’s in the clear he’s got a long, long road ahead of him.”
“I’m going to ask you for a favor,” Declan said.
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“It’s a favor I have no right to ask of you, but I’m going to ask it anyway because I love my brother and I want him to make a full recovery. Physically and mentally. And you’re the best I know. You can relate to him on levels the rest of us can’t. You’ve been in combat. And you’ve dealt with issues that you might recognize in others. I want it to be you that sees him through recovery. He’s going to need you more than us. I know my brother well, and he’s not going to want his family. He’s going to be ashamed and angry.
And when Shane gets angry the first thing he does is distance himself from the rest of us.
“It would mean rearranging your duties and schedule here at the hospital. It would mean being his nursemaid, his companion, physical therapist, and physician all rolled into one. He’s going to be angry with you too, but I know you can handle it.”
Lacey wasn’t sure what favor she’d expected Declan to ask of her, but this hadn’t been it. The hospital had been her identity—her purpose—for eight years. And in the blink of an eye, now she was something else. Declan had wanted her here for her skill, talent, and intelligence. Now he wanted her to be a nursemaid. Disappointment filled her at the turn of events. This wasn’t where she saw herself. But she didn’t let her displeasure show. She owed Declan the life she’d come to love. And she owed him the favor he asked of her. She’d do as any good soldier would and do what he asked of her.
“Whatever you need,” she told him.
Chapter 9
Six Weeks Later…
Shane listened to the conversation Declan was having in the next room with one of his agents and his heart thumped hard in his chest. His skin felt too small for his body as rage rolled like a wave over him. His fingers dug into the mattress and the blood pressure cuff on his arm tightened automatically, as it did when his body was under stress. The television his mother had turned on for background noise was just a low hum of annoyance.
“Be even more vigilant on this mission,” Declan said. “There are a lot of rumblings from private firms that aren’t as happy as we are that the government is giving us a majority of the contracts.”
“Fuck them,” Archer Ryan said. “What’s the threat?”
“Like I said, just rumblings for now. Maxim Petrovich is making a lot of noise with congress that we’re developing weapons and technology and not handing all the information over while the products are being developed.”
“What does Congress say?”
“Since they can’t even agree on whether they should all have cereal or toast for breakfast, I’m not too worried at the moment. But Petrovich puts a lot of money in a lot of politicians’ pockets, and he’s making noise. He’s demanding we make our developments an open book to Congress so they can make sure we’re not doing anything that will become a detriment to our country.”
“Oh yeah. Great idea,” Archer said. “Because politicians always keep such great secrets and won’t go straight to the media.”
“That’s part of it,” Declan said. “And it was part of the response I sent to Congress and Maxim Petrovich. Petrovich apparently failed to read our current contract, stating that all patents belong solely to MacKenzie Security as a private entity. They may purchase anything we develop, but they don’t own it or have any rights to it until they do.”
Shane shifted and reached for the TV remote to turn off the noise so he could hear better. He’d dealt with the Petrovichs on a mission a couple of years ago. Maxim’s brother had been one of the most dangerous arms dealers in the world, and it had been Shane and his team who’d taken him out while he was selling nuclear launch codes to Syria.
There was no way Petrovich’s motives for going to congress were altruistic. He wanted to either make trouble for Declan or he wanted something Declan had.
“What are you thinking?” Archer asked.
“Petrovich runs the Russian mafiya on the east coast. His loyalty has always been with Russia, even though he plays a good American game. He wants something specific, and whatever it is he wants will be something that plays to Russia’s advantage. Russia has gained considerable power over the last several years. Their bank accounts are full and we’re on the brink of another cold war. They know their power, and they’re not afraid to use it. Which is why I’m bringing in extra security as needed. And why I’m actively recruiting special agents, including the one you’re going to track down and convince to come back with you. I’ve got SEALs available when we need them, but it’s going to put a hell of a dent in the budget.”
“Speaking of SEALs, how’s Shane?” Archer asked.
“His body is healing,” Dec said. “The doctor said the area where they amputated is doing well. They were able to save the knee, which will be helpful when he’s ready to wear a prosthetic. His other leg has had two surgeries and pins were put in, but everything is looking fine there. They don’t think he’ll have to have any more surgeries on that leg, just a couple of skin grafts. The ribs are still giving him a little trouble, but the doctor said that was to be expected since they were cracked. His last brain scan was clear.”
“But?”
“He still isn’t speaking. To any of us. He’s shut himself off, just staring at the TV or the wall.”
Of course he wasn’t speaking, Shane thought. What the hell did he have to say that anyone would want to hear? All he heard inside his head were screams. He was afraid if he opened his mouth that’s what would come out.
“My mother is in and out,” Dec went on. “She went to the café to grab a bite to eat while he’s sleeping. She reads to him and talks to him. We all do. But he never responds. He won’t talk to the trauma psychologist that keeps coming by or the doctors who monitor his progress.”
“It’s understandable, Dec. He’s had his whole world taken from him. Commanding that team was his life. And he’ll never lead them again.”
“I know. And he’s so fucking angry I just keep waiting for him to blow. You can’t see it by looking at him, but I know my brother. His eyes are dead. I’ve seen men who had eyes like that, and nothing good came from it. And that terrifies me. His rage is festering beneath the surface, and until he lets it loose he’ll never start to heal. At least on an emotional level. I don’t know what to do for him.”
“You know I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Shane almost snorted. Everyone wanted to help. People he knew and people he didn’t know. All of a sudden, everyone was interested in Shane MacKenzie. As if they really gave a shit.
And as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t alive. His life had been the SEAL team he’d commanded. The men who’d become as close as his brothers. The men he’d have died for. What good was he now? Half a man and useless at that.
Now Brady had taken his place as commander and they were out of the country on a mission Shane would never know about. He’d been discharged. Honorably and with valor. But what fucking good did medals do when all he wanted was to get up and walk again—to lead again?
Weakness invaded his body. He could barely move. Couldn’t even take a piss without someone there to help him.
He turned his head and stared at the opposite wall. The machines continued to beep, but he noticed the one that monitored his pulse was moving faster than normal. Maybe he was a little angry after all.
Four Weeks Later…
Doctors came in day after day, asking him how he felt, asking him to get up and move. Telling him that movement would help him heal faster. He just stared straight through them, wondering which one of them had removed his leg. Wondering which one of them hadn’t had the guts to let him die instead of being half a man.
Even better was the psychologist who kept stopping by—Doctor Earns. The fucker. Listening to his bullshit almost made Shane want to speak, just to tell the guy to go to hell. What did some polished prick with a bunch of initials after his name know about what he was feeling? The guy had never even served. He didn’t look old enough to have served. He’d never put his life on the line or had others depend on him to get them home to their families. He was a government puppet and nothing more.
He was finished. Finished with hospitals and the nurses who looked at him with sympathy instead of the flirtatious glances he was used to getting from women. He might as well be a eunuch. No woman would want to fuck half a man. And he wouldn’t tolerate a pity fuck from anyone.
He was sick of the doctors and the blood tests. And most of all, he was fucking sick of physical therapy. They had him up and moving around, whether he’d wanted to be or n
ot. They gave him pats on the back and pushed him on with excitement-tinged voices filled with false encouragement, like he was a fucking kid learning how to ride a bike for the first time.
The humiliation of having to be lifted from the bed into his wheelchair and propped up and coddled every step of the way burned in his guts until he wanted to put his fist through the damned wall. They told him he’d have to use the crutches until he was ready to be fit for a prosthetic. The swelling in his leg hadn’t gone down as they’d hoped, so the process had been delayed. His other leg was whole, but every time he put his full weight down it felt as if someone was driving a hot poker through the bottom of his foot and up his leg.
They kept pushing for the prosthetic. For him to meet with the R&D team to see the latest technology in prosthetics. They told him he’d be able to run again. To do whatever he wanted to do. But that was a lie. He’d never step into uniform again and he’d never lead his team. He’d never rappel out of a building or jump from a Black Hawk into the water.
He knew these things for a fact, and so did they. But still they lied, yelled encouragements, and made him push himself to the limits to strengthen the leg he did have, as well as his upper body. And because he didn’t want to disappoint his family—who always managed to show up when he’d prefer to be alone—he gritted his teeth and did what he was told instead of laying a path of waste to the doctors at Declan’s precious hospital. He hated it. Hated each and every one of those people smiling at him and pushing him forward.
In fact, he was done with the whole fucking place. He wanted to be alone. He wanted twenty-four-fucking hours without someone checking on him and giving him a fake smile.
He ripped the medical tape from the back of his hand and pulled out the IV, tossing it on the bed. He pulled off the pulse monitor on his finger, not caring that the little machine by his head started the incessant beeping that drove him insane.