Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4

by T. Hammond

  I felt Bas shaking his head in disbelief, mumbling, “Amateurs,” under his breath.

  “The guy’s five-foot-four, but he only weighs about ninety-five pounds. Has a lethal reputation with those knives, though,” Eddie imparted. “Well, he did anyway. Not only did Dexter slice and dice the major tendons in both his hands, he pinned Bannerman’s dominant wrist, a la crucifixion, to the floor. That dude will be lucky if he has the strength to use a butter knife in the future.”

  I flinched at the mental image… until I remembered he’d wanted to skin Red. Suddenly, I got the joke. When Russ instructed the guys to ‘secure the prisoners,’ I’m sure he hadn’t meant to the floor. Dex was still on track as my second-favorite guard.

  “Grainger is sporting a couple black eyes, and a few cracked ribs. Jazz went easy on him, because he stepped up and prevented Adamson from hurting you more than he did,” Eddie continued, gleefully cataloging their revenge on my behalf.

  Bastian found his voice. “Frost was in charge of taking down Adamson. It was a fluke he was the one who came to check on you in the garage. My breathing all but stopped when the chair tipped over and Brain informed us one of the kidnappers was heading your way.”

  “Fritz is in heaven with bragging rights. He’ll embellish the hell out of the story about how he single-handedly, with a carefully aimed bullet, brought down the asshole. You should never have handed over your gun, Bastian. That’s a story which will grow more incredulous with the telling,” Eddie moaned.

  “He’s seriously going to invent stories about a shooting he didn’t do?” I couldn’t help it, I was chuckling over the absurdity.

  “If he’s gonna take the blame, least we can do is let him invent a great story to share,” Eddie reasoned.

  “Military’ll handle ‘em now. Tried to steal government secrets. Colonel Spencer’s talkin’ treason and terrorism. Incarcerated for life,” Frost pointed out. “Good day’s work.”

  Bas was nodding in agreement. He hugged me a little closer, still wary of hurting me further. “We’re almost at the house, we’ll have Russ’ medic, Doc Pettifer, look you over. You’ll probably need an IV to replace fluids, he’ll draw blood, and make sure you don’t have any broken bones or other concerns. He’s also a shrink, so he will offer to listen if you need to talk. Doc is a good man, and anything you say will be between you two, okay?”

  A shrink? Am I acting crazy? Let’s see how they do being frozen and no coffee for days. There was a moment of shame, as I realized these ex-soldiers had probably endured worse. “I just want to sleep, Bas,” I protested. Okay, whined. Sheesh, where’d my pride go?

  “We’ll be able to rest afterward, Babe, but the physical exam is important. We will want to debrief you before the military does. There may be a few helpful suggestions on what to disclose, and what to not volunteer, to the official record. The colonel will send a team to get your statement, but we’ll have our people present also. You won’t be alone, I promise.”

  Bas wrapped his arms protectively around my body, as I let the rolling vibration of the vehicle lull me to sleep.

  ****************

  “Hello, Miss March. I’m Jim, Doctor James Pettifer. I double as the medic and psychologist for the Wild Horse crew. I would like to do a physical exam to document your injuries and assess the possible need to take you to a hospital; which is my recommendation, by the way. You really should have your kidnapping properly recorded with the police. Not to mention there are a full range of tests I’d like done, and I would prefer to get an MRI of your spine. After watching the tapes, and seeing the stress on your body from some of the kicks you received, I’d feel better knowing there is no internal damage or broken bones.”

  Jim Pettifer has a mellow, calming, grandfatherly voice. I placed him in his sixties, although, without Red’s vision sharing or outright asking him, I couldn’t be sure. “Are you actually on Russ’ payroll? I hadn’t realized he had a doctor or psychiatrist on staff,” I said, trying to divert his attention from talk of hospitals and tests.

  “I’m a psychologist.” he clarified, or maybe not—I thought they were the same thing.

  “Psychiatrist. Psychologist. What’s the difference?” I asked.

  “Short answer? A psychiatrist is a guy who goes to medical school, then probably does a residency in a mental health field. Psychiatrists are more likely to go into research, or focus on treating symptoms. I’m doctor, my specialty is internal medicine. When I was a military physician, I found myself interested in the emotional problems soldiers were experiencing with wartime trauma, so I went back to school and added a few more letters to the end of my name. Generally, psychologists are more focused on the behavior and mindset of patients.”

  “I suppose I never really thought about the differences. I knew that one could prescribe medications, and the other couldn’t, but I never considered the reasons.”

  “Technically, since I’m also an MD, I could prescribe, but I defer my psychology patients who need meds to psychiatrists, as they are in a better position to fine-tune the dosages. Now, back to the original issue. Hospital. Tests. Highly recommended.”

  Obviously, the man was not easily distracted. I knew my grin was probably rueful, “I’d rather not. Gil and another officer are coming by to take a police statement. The military is sending someone to get a statement for Uncle Sam. I’m okay with you checking me over, but I don’t want to go through a barrage of tests unless I have to. Right now, I want a hot bath and then sleep, and I’m so friggin thirsty, but Bas won’t let me drink anything yet.”

  “Bastian, and your friend Janey, are outside your bedroom, in the hallway. They want to be present when I do the exam. I told them it would be up to you. Parts of the examination may be somewhat intimate, but we can kick them out when you get to a point it’s uncomfortable to have them here.”

  “I love Janey like a sister, Jim. She has a great head in a crisis, but in the aftermath, like now, she’ll fall apart if the bruising looks as bad as it feels. Maybe we can distract her with a trip to the store for Epsom salts or something? To answer an unasked question, I wasn’t sexually assaulted, so a rape kit won’t be necessary. There shouldn’t be any part of the exam Bas can’t sit in on.” I knew he’d be anxious. Bas wouldn’t be mollified until he saw for himself I was going to be fine. “I’d like my dog, Red, and Bastian with me.”

  “Yeah, about the dog. Russ gave me some crazy story about this bond you have with your pet, but I’d prefer not to have him present when I’m wielding needles. I don’t want him jumping up on you at a critical moment when I’m trying to insert an IV,” Jim hedged. Ah, a disbeliever. Because he was here in the capacity of psychologist, as well as medical doctor, Bas explained in the car, he’d been given full disclosure regarding my mental link with Red.

  Boy was the doctor in for a surprise. “I hear the disbelief in your voice. Bas told me one of the guys explained the mind-speak and mind-sight to you already, so the only way you’ll believe is if you see us together. I want to see what’s going on during the exam, which can only be accomplished through Red. Suck it up Jim, I’m standing firm on this.”

  The tension in the room spoke eloquently of the reluctance practically oozing from his pores. I had to smile. Oh, ye of little faith.

  Predictably, it about five minutes before Red and I convinced the good doctor we weren’t a novelty act. Show and tell finally over, Red sat on a chair Bas pulled closer to the bed, so I could observe the proceedings.

  Through Red’s sight, I abstractedly watched the doctor detail and photograph a hodge-podge of colorful bruises—two cracked ribs appeared to be the worst, and most painful, damage. My face was swollen from Adamson’s fists, but it was a dull throbbing on top of overall body aches. I refused a pelvic exam, insisting once again, I’d not been raped. Bas’ assurances regarding my honesty appeased the doctor, somewhat. I didn’t take his doubt personally; pretty certain it was his scientific nature to seek physical confirmation. His white-grey brows wer
e beetled into worried furrows as he alternately spoke into a mini-recorder, positioned me for a picture, and made notations in a file laid on my nightstand. As his voice suggested, the doctor was in his mid-sixties. Reed-thin, with papery skin and stooped shoulders, Dr. Jim Pettifer looked like a strong wind could pick him up and carry him away.

  After Jim finished poking and prodding (no, Jim, that spot didn’t hurt until you jabbed it with your index finger), he allowed me to change into my fleece pajamas. Unreasonably exhausted from the exam, I decided to forego a bath in favor of snuggling under a mound of blankets. A testament to my pain and heavy fatigue, I didn’t protest when Bastian insisted on helping me change. His touch was so tender as he guided my arm through a sleeve. Red’s view included his eyes, pain-filled with empathy, as I struggled to lift my knee high enough for the pant leg. More than my own upset, it broke my heart to see how these past two days had worn him down to shadowed eyes, and somber features.

  The doctor hooked me up on an IV to replenish fluids, and expedite various antibiotics and vitamin supplements intravenously to my weary body. My stomach was still feeling a bit too rebellious for oral medications. I don’t think it was noon yet, but all I wanted was rest. Even more than coffee. Kind of ironic, since I spent most of the last two days unconscious.

  “I won’t know until the blood test results,” Doc Jim declared, “but we suspect you and Red were injected with fentanyl via the darts. Russ told me one of the kidnappers claimed to be using benzodiazepine for your continuous sedation. Your symptoms of dry mouth, nausea, and dizziness are consistent with benzo; although, quite frankly, those symptoms match a number of other drugs, too. There may be some withdrawal issues, as I don’t know what dosage you were given. It seems fairly clear to me, with the exception of your coffee consumption, you don’t appear to have an addictive personality, so you should be able to power through any lingering effects. Call me right away if you get cold sweats or the shakes. Hell, call me if you have any questions. I’ll be two doors down, as Bas is sharing his room for the duration, and checking on you regularly. Your friend, Gil, will expedite the blood samples through his contact in the police lab.”

  “That would be his girlfriend, Ashe,” Bas informed us. “Gil’s waiting outside, Babe. He said he’d go straight from here to Ashe with a list of what Doc needs checked. She won’t do it at the station, but she has access to lab facilities to handle your requirements.”

  “Excellent,” Jim approved. “I haven’t given you a sedative. Mainly because I don’t know yet how much benzo is already in your system. If you can’t sleep, let me know and I can improvise. I’m going to take a nap as I’ve been up most of the night myself. You have people wanting to see you. I recommend a few at a time, and short stays only.”

  “Thanks Doc, I’ll make sure everyone cycles through quickly so she can get some rest,” Bas assured.

  “Geez, I can’t believe I’m so sleepy,” I yawned. “You’d think this woman would have more stamina after being asleep for almost forty-eight hours.”

  “Being drugged doesn’t count as a rest, Teresa. You’ve been through a trauma, and it will take time for your mind and body to get in sync again. A nice, healing sleep will do you a lot of good.” The doctor packed a few loose items into a large black suitcase. With a tired sigh he extended the luggage handle and rolled his medical kit into the hall on squeaky plastic wheels.

  In groups of two and three, Mustangs stopped in to pay respects and wish me a speedy recovery. Janey was back from the store, and looked stricken when I expressed I was too tired to take a bath now. I thanked her for getting the scented Epsom salts, promising to take a long soak after I’d caught up on my sleep. Having thanked Red, and requesting “Lights out, but stay close,” more for him than for me, I was almost asleep, when Bastian bent over the bed to kiss my unmarked cheek.

  “Are you leaving me?” I asked groggily.

  “I won’t be far, Babe. You need to sleep. I was going to let you rest,” he explained.

  “No, Bas, your place is beside me. You need to hold me so the nightmares will stay away.”

  There was no protest. I suspect Bas wanted to crawl in beside me, but had worried he’d disturb my rest. There was a soft whisper of clothing being stripped away, and moments later, his huge body slid under the covers, the tilt of the bed an immediate comfort. I was vaguely disappointed he was wearing underwear, but that thought lasted only an instant until I felt the heated flesh of his chest pressed against my back, adding additional warmth even through my pajamas. Careful of the IV in my arm, Bas slipped his hand over my waist, tucking me into the curve of his body.

  “We’ll have to do this naked, next time,” I suggested, with a last burst of conscious thought.

  “It’s a deal, Babe. Naked snuggling is high up on my list of things I want to do together. Sleep, Teresa. You’re safe with me. I’ll keep the monsters at bay.”

  “Of course I am Bastian. There’s no place safer than in your arms.”

  I fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I woke slowly to the sound of angry, raised voices.

  “Why the hell didn’t you call and let me know she’d been kidnapped? It shocked the hell out of me when Russ picked us up at the airport and gave me a rundown of events on the ride back. Thank god he picked us up in two vehicles so Marcia and Wes could ride separately while I got briefed. I fucking had a right to know last Friday, Bas!” David’s tone was furious, but he managed to keep his voice lowered. What woke me from a deep sleep was the intensity of their conversation, rather than the volume.

  “There was nothing you could have done from Boston, David. You had plenty on your plate with Marcia’s final cancer specialist checkup, and Wes’ appointment to be sure the skull fracture was healed enough for him to fly. Yes, as my partner, I should have told you there was a blackmail threat to PreClan, but I weighed the threat and knew we had the resources here to take care of it. Since the situation’s been handled, and Teresa and the programs are safe, there was no need to add more to your workload,” Bas argued, his voice low and controlled.

  “Workload? That’s bullshit, Bas. I had a right to know Teresa was in danger,” David challenged.

  “No, David. You have no rights where Teresa is concerned. Technically, as a married man, you never did,” Bastian reasoned.

  “I can fix this, Bas. She just needs to give me another chance. I love her, and I know she loves me,” David countered. “She picked me, remember?”

  “Fuck, man, listen to yourself. Teresa told you this can’t be fixed, you broke her trust,” Bastian stressed. “You lied to her, David. Compounded deception upon deception. You know how much she values integrity, and you still concealed your marital status. In-fucking-credibly, on top of lying, you tossed in a marriage proposal before you found out why Marcia wouldn’t sign the divorce papers. She didn’t pick you, she picked the man you pretended to be. That man was a lie.”

  His words were met with silence. Bas continued, relentless, “Not only did you deceive Teresa, you deliberately maneuvered to block my relationship with her. Christ, David, the first thing I ever told you about her was that I planned to marry her one day. You knew this woman owned me. Knowing this, you not only betrayed her, you deliberately sabotaged my admittedly clumsy attempts to gain her respect and earn her love. We’re friends and partners, David. How could you do that to me? And how could you hurt her like that, and still expect her to forgive and pick up as though nothing happened?”

  “You were obsessed, not in love,” David taunted, but there was no venom—nor conviction, behind the statement.

  “I’m obsessed?” Bastian repeated, incredulously. “Dude, I’ve known her since she was five years old, and loved her since she was fifteen. I walked away to give her time to grow up. One careless asshole mistake when I was a brash twenty-five year old, screwed-up everything, but I never stopped loving her. Even in the face of her lost respect, I never faltered in my feelings. I never stopp
ed trying to make things right. The fact she avoided me, meant she was aware of me, too, so I always had hope. You, on the other hand, fell in lust with a photograph. You learned to love her through my recollections and childhood stories. Rather than clean up your life to make yourself single and worthy of her, you deliberately started your pursuit as soon as we got to Spokane, because you were worried I would win her before you were free of Marcia. Between those two scenarios, David, which sounds more like obsession?”

  “I love her, Bas,” David repeated, so softly, I almost couldn’t hear him.

  “I love her, too. I have for almost half my life. Imagining a world without her in it, is incomprehensible for me. These last two days, looking for her? Afraid I’d fail to find her in time? They were torture, David. I came so close to losing her before we even had a chance to start a life together. That beautiful, giving woman, holds my heart and sanity in the palms of her hands,” he declared with firm conviction. “I know her David. She’s a woman who wants to be treated as an equal, not sheltered as you insist on doing. She is a doer, a participant in her life—not a spectator. You consider her handicapped, and would put her on a shelf and guard her, but I would walk beside her, offering a helping hand to clasp if she loses her footing. You would hold your worries to yourself, because you wouldn’t want to burden her with making hard choices. I would tell her everything in my heart, and rely on her to offer sage advice and a steadying hand when my course was in question. You’d put her on a pedestal; I’d drag her off to bed. The fact you don’t understand these things about her, means you’d never make her happy. Don’t you want her happiness above your own, David?”