Connelly Crime Family Trilogy

by Winters, KB

  “Ma’am,” she began in that bored tone that only served to piss me off even more.

  “No! Don’t ma’am me. Just get on your damn computer and tell me where my brother is. His name is Ian Anders, and I am his sister and emergency contact. Ivy. I-V-Y.”

  If looks could kill I’d have dropped dead right there just ten feet from the automatic sliding doors.

  “Look,” she started to say in a tone that the Queen of England might use.

  “No, you look,” I shot back at her. “You people called me and told me to get here right away. Said the doctor might have questions while my brother is in surgery, so I’m not waiting and I’m not fucking looking. For anything. Ian Anders,” I said again, staring at her until she rolled her eyes and went to her computer, tapping until she found what she was looking for.

  “Ian Anders is in the Intensive Care Unit—”

  “And you had me waiting here, for what exactly? So you could finish a riveting game of Candy Crush?” I let out a long, loud growl of frustration and walked away. “You should really be working in the morgue, lady, because your attitude fucking sucks!”

  I hauled ass up to the ICU, taking the stairs because I didn’t have enough patience to wait for the elevator to stop on every floor, to offer up a fake smile to other friends and family of people trapped inside these walls. I couldn’t do it. Not any of it. But even as I took the steps two at a time, killing my lungs, I couldn’t help but pause and do a sweep around me, in every nook and cranny, because it happened again. That feeling of someone watching me.

  It was creepy as hell. I shook the feeling off after it became clear that the stress of my life was too much for me to handle, and I made my way to the reception area of the ICU.

  “Miss, how can I help you?”

  The voice belonged to a younger woman dressed in pink scrubs with a high ponytail and a reassuring smile. She clearly had gone to the compassionate school of nursing.

  “I’m looking for my brother, Ian Anders.”

  “Ivy, right?” She smiled and I figured she was the mysterious Candace so I nodded. Because at that moment, I was too terrified to even speak.

  Candace walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder to guide me to the end of the hall. “Let’s talk right here for a moment,” she said quietly.

  “How is Ian?” That was my only concern right now, making sure he was all right. Even though in my mind I knew he was all right, I wondered if I’d even feel it if he wasn’t. Was there some feeling you got when you were all alone in the world? Did other orphans feel it?

  “He’s not good and he’s not in critical condition either. He’s in the ICU because security is tighter here and there was some concern, based on his friend’s statements, that he might need enhanced security.”

  She kept talking but her words just bounced off me as I wondered what exactly his friends, so called friends, had said. “The surgery has just finished and he’s in the recovery room. You can’t go in there, but once he comes out of the anesthesia and is stable, they’ll bring him here, and you can see him. Shouldn’t be too long.”

  Candace had a nice smile and a calming way about her that I appreciated. “Thank you for telling me, Candace. You’ve been a big help.”

  “Let’s grab a cup of coffee while we wait. It always makes things seem a little less crappy, don’t you think?”

  I did and more than that, sitting here with Candace made me think that I really needed to get some friends of my own.

  “Sounds good, thanks.” She led me to the cafeteria where we sipped hot black coffee that tasted like it had come from the bottom of a pot that burned all day long. But it was hot and a nice distraction. Eventually though, it was time to head back upstairs and my legs grew heavy.

  “Thank you, Candace,” I said, willing myself to get up from the table. Who knew fear and anxiety could make me turn into a rag doll? “You made me forget all about the hag at the front desk.”

  She laughed, a musical sound that was contagious. I couldn’t believe that I sat in the cafeteria while Ian was laid up in the hospital, laughing.

  “Macy isn’t what you’d call a people person,” she said, screwing up her face.

  That was the understatement of the century but hearing about Macy’s bad attitude was exactly the mindless distraction I needed before going to see Ian.

  He was in the ICU when we returned and Candace showed me to his bed, one of several in the ward for seriously ill patients. I tried to stay calm, I really did, but seeing him in bed like that nearly took out my knees. “My God, Ian!”

  He looked frail and beaten to a bloody pulp. One side of his face was bruised and his eye was swollen shut. His broken leg was in a new and much bigger cast and now two fingers were in splints. I couldn’t really tell because of his bed covers, but it looked his midsection was bandaged. What could I say? My sweet brother looked terrible. About as bad as I felt.

  “Who did this to you?” I knew it was a pointless question since he was still out of it, but it was the obvious question. Ian wasn’t a troublemaker, he was a geek. An even bigger geek than I was. All of his friends were geeks. Super geeks. It had to be a random act of violence, because if it wasn’t, that meant there was a whole lot about my brother I didn’t know.

  “Why did you leave the hospital, Ian?”

  That was the part that didn’t make sense. It was a stupid move and Ian was a lot of things, but he was rarely stupid. Impulsive, sure. Spontaneous too, but not stupid.

  The door opened and a doctor, recognizable by the white lab coat and stethoscope around his neck entered. Handsome, with soft brown eyes, silver hair, and a kind smile, his presence helped put me at ease.

  “Mrs. Anders?” he asked.

  “No, I’m Ivy. Ian’s sister.” It was a common mistake and I brushed it off easily

  “I’m Dr. Doherty, orthopedic surgeon.”

  Another surgeon. “What’s the verdict, doctor?”

  “The good news is that everything will heal in time.”

  Good news meant there was, inevitably, bad news. “The bad news?”

  Dr. Doherty gave a resigned smile. “The bad news is that healing is going to be a long, arduous process. Ian will need physical therapy and possibly another surgery for his leg, but that’s only after his fractured ribs heal. Only time will tell.”

  “Fractured ribs?” I said.

  “Yes, and some internal bleeding. We had to do some exploratory surgery to make sure his internal organs weren’t damaged.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was hit with a wave of nausea or dizziness, but something sent me reeling as the full extent of Ian’s injuries hit me. And then I realized that no matter how badly he wanted me out of his life, Ian would need my help for the foreseeable future. Sure I wanted that, to take care of him until he was well. But not like this. I wanted him healed. Safe.

  “Okay, thank you Dr. Doherty,” I managed to say.

  He gave me a polite smile, asked me if I had any more questions. But since he couldn’t tell me what I really wanted to know: who did this to my brother? I said no, thank you, and he gave a slight nod and left the room. My gaze lingered on Ian’s pale skin, covered with deep blue and purple discoloration, which told its own story of his night.

  Candace stopped in to tell me that I could go home if I wanted to, that Ian likely would sleep for the next several hours and would be in better shape in the morning. But I couldn’t leave him. I collapsed into a chair next to his bed, just to be there in case he needed me. And then fought back my fears for the next few hours.

  Who would do this to my brother? I came up with no answers. Not only did I have no friends, but Ian’s friends were a big unknown to me. I could recognize a few names, but nobody appeared in my thoughts capable of this violence. So I spent those hours beside his bed, waiting and praying to whoever was up there–clearly not listening from the way they were watching over him–that he would wake up. Soon. When it became clear he had no idea I was there, Candace urged me to g
o home and get some rest.

  ***

  When I returned, it was a different story. Recovery had started. The nurses had cleaned him up and given him some breathing treatments to prevent pneumonia. They didn’t waste time. Said they’d gotten him to sit up for a bit before he fell asleep again. I’d missed all that, so I took up my place by his bedside and drifted off to my own thoughts.

  “What’s with the long face?”

  The sound of his voice startled me and I turned to him. “Ian? Oh thank goodness you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  Even though there was a large split in his bottom lip, Ian grinned. And winced.

  “Like I got the shit beat out of me. How do I look?” He gave me a woozy grin like his little escapade hadn’t just shaved at least ten years off my life and that, well, it pissed me off.

  “Seriously? You fucking leave the hospital in the middle of the night, get your ass kicked and you’re asking me how you look? Where the fuck did you go? And why?”

  It was too much all of a sudden, Ian’s smug attitude about getting attacked. Shae. The big ginger named Shamrock. It was just too fucking much. “You know what, Ian? Screw you!”

  “Wait, what?” He blinked and his brows dipped in confusion. “I don’t even know what you’re saying. I’m so fucked up. Can’t you just relax for a minute?”

  “Relax? No. Screw. You.” I pointed at him for good measure. “You bitch and complain that I won’t leave you alone, that I hover too much. That I smother you and you needed a break. From me! And I give you what you want and this is what you do. You aren’t capable of taking care of yourself! Look at you!”

  I wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Hell, what I wanted was to go home, lock myself inside and ignore the whole goddamn world. But I couldn’t. I was trapped. Leave my brother after his second near death experience? No, I couldn’t do that. But enough pampering him. He needed to know I was finished with treating him like a kid.

  “Come on, Ivy.” He flashed that easygoing smile that I wanted to smack off his face. And I would have, if I wasn’t so damn glad to see his eyes open and his lips flapping. But I wasn’t a pushover for his antics.

  “No you come on, Ian!” I said. I was too tired of all this. Of the whole damn world. I dropped back down into the uncomfortable chair. “What will you do now that you have to start recovering all over again?”

  He shrugged. “Rehab and work. I can’t do much else.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope it was all worth it because the doctor said you might need another surgery on your leg. He also said you have a long road ahead of you before you’re fully recovered.”

  He gave me a face, one I knew well from the times he’d been caught getting into trouble. “I just wanted to get out of here for a few hours. Have some fun.” He sighed and rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “You’re right, I wouldn’t. And it’s not because I don’t have fun like you seem to think. I just don’t understand how someone with a broken leg thought it was a good idea to leave the hospital when you were supposed to be released today.”

  “Ivy, stop. I’m injured here. And I can’t even think straight.” I heard the self-pity in his voice. His plea for mercy. Any other time, he’d get it. But now, after this stunt? I looked him in the eye.

  “And it’s your own damn fault!” Wasn’t he too old for this?

  “Ivy. Cut me some slack.”

  “I’m tired of cutting you some slack, Ian. I’m sorry this happened to you. But don’t come to me with your pity party that you were bored. It’s time to be an adult. I’ll help you however I can, but there are new rules.” I turned away to look out the window before I said more, something I’d regret. When I’d let off enough steam, I turned back to him and asked in a calmer voice, “Did you talk to the police yet?”

  I gave Ian credit. He’d dropped the attitude. “No,” he said. He sounded remorseful; I hoped he was. “I was in too much pain when the guys brought me in. You’re the first person I’ve seen since the surgery.”

  “You should probably call them. No one knows if you were targeted, but since all your friends seem to be fine, it’s a good bet.” And here I was taking care of him, giving him advice again. “Unless your friends did this to you?”

  “No. They wouldn’t do that. Can you just stop yelling at me? I don’t feel good.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, Ian. You do you. And keep your ass in this hospital bed where you belong.”

  His deep chuckle sounded behind me. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Little brothers were put on this earth for the sole purpose of torturing older sisters, I was a firm believer in that.

  ***

  I now had a deep appreciation for people who buried themselves in work to forget about the crappy state of their lives. It wasn’t just effective, but there was the added benefit that they’d have more money, become better at their jobs, and find other ways to fulfill themselves. At least, that was how I felt after about twenty straight hours of sitting behind my computer with only a couple bathroom and food breaks.

  I’d caught up on all my emails and only had to wait for replies from clients and potential clients. I’d completed the first draft of a website overhaul, a new business logo for letterhead and business cards, along with putting the finishing touches on posters and album covers for an indie rock band. It felt good to be so far ahead of schedule that I could stop worrying about meeting deadlines and maintaining my schedule. In fact, I had time to start working on another facet of my business to bring in residual income.

  There was plenty of satisfaction to be had in a job well done, particularly when that job paid my bills and gave me enough income to spring for things like chef’s knives and vintage comic t-shirts. “Yep, I’m living the life,” I crowed sarcastically to my homepage.

  It was hardly true, but it had only been a day since I’d promised a redo on my life, and real change took progress. But after binge working from the moment I left the hospital, I was proud of myself that I hadn’t thought about Shae or Ian in more than twenty hours. That was real progress and nothing to be ashamed of.

  If there was any cause for shame it was that I was almost thirty years old with no real friends to speak of and no romantic prospects. It was an even greater shame that the best sex of my life was with the cockiest, most arrogant man I’d ever met. But when life kept handing me jerks, I finally came to the point where I had to refuse them, so I threw myself into work and decided to live a celibate life.

  “A future to look forward to,” I groaned and pushed my laptop away and stood to stretch my stiff muscles. My body desperately need a steaming hot bubble bath, and I intended to give it to her along with a tall pitcher of margaritas. I let hot water fill the tub along with a lavender bath bomb while I made my pitcher of cocktails.

  As soon as I dipped a toe into the hot water, my tight muscles began to relax. I sank all the way down into the fragrant bath and exhaled.

  Then the phone rang. I’d set it on the hamper next to the tub in case a client called back.

  “Yeah?” I said when I picked it up, bubbly water dripping off my arm.

  “Ivy? It’s Candace.” Those two words were all I needed to stand up and step out of the bathtub.

  “What’s wrong with Ian?”

  “There was a head injury that the doctor didn’t think looked serious. But when Mr. Anders attempted to get up on his own and fell, it caused a bleed in his brain.”

  “A brain bleed?” I didn’t need a medical license to know that was bad. Life threatening bad. “How did that happen?”

  “Maybe you saw the laceration on his head. It was from some kind of blow that we treated as a cut, after x-rays of course. But the fall aggravated it. There must have been underlying swelling and well, it would be best if you could return to St. Mary’s.”

  My gaze slid to the untouched margarita sitting beside a few bath candles and a lavender scented pillow. It would be hours if not days before I got to enjoy any of it.r />
  “I’ll be right there,” I said, reaching for the towel. At least this time I could drive myself.

  I made it to the hospital in record time, mainly because I zoned out and barely remembered the trip. The next thing I remembered was walking into the lobby with a glare for Macy as I made my way to the ICU. Candace, Dr. Doherty and another doctor waited for me.

  “I’m so sorry, Ivy.” Those were words you never wanted to hear from a medical professional. I braced myself for the worst.

  “Has something else happened since we last spoke?”

  Candace shook her head but it was the other doctor, young and far too handsome to work in a real hospital, who spoke up. “The patient—”

  “Ian. His name is Ian.”

  The doctor sighed, impatient as all get out, and I knew his type right away. Arrogant with no time to remember details like the names of the people he cut open.

  “Ian’s brain began to bleed due to the swelling so we had to place him in a medically induced coma, which should help with the small puncture to his lungs caused by the fractured rib.”

  Lung puncture? When were they going to tell me about that? Things just got better and better. “Medically induced,” I mused. “How long will that last?”

  Dr. Arrogant said, “It depends, but this is the best thing for these types of injuries. The body needs to heal and to do that it needs sleep. But we will monitor your husband—”

  “—brother. Ian is my brother, Doctor.”

  “Right. We’ll monitor him around the clock and when the swelling goes down, we’ll slowly decrease the sedation as he improves. I promise that we are doing everything we can for Ian.”

  That much I believed. Guys like him loved the ego stroke of saving difficult patients. I said, “Thank you, doctor. Thanks to all of you for your help.” Once they were gone, I made my way back to Ian’s room where he looked more fragile than ever.

  I couldn’t help but feel like this was my fault, especially since I was off having wild sex with the wrong man while my brother was getting the shit beat out of him. I knew it was an illogical thought to have, because Ian didn’t want me hanging around. However, realistically? A lifetime of feeling responsible for him didn’t disappear overnight.