“Well, if you’re going to blackout, you might as well be in one of the finest hotels in the city,” Mitch remarked dryly. He considered Jack a moment. “Did you get tested?”
“Yeah,” Jack exhaled. “Longest thirty six hours of my life.”
“So that didn’t scare you into stopping?”
Jack shrugged, ashamed. “Guess not.”
“What are you on now?”
“Nothing,” Jack replied quickly. He lifted his hands, showing Mitch the slight tremor. “You got my Percocets. That’s all I had with me.”
Mitch nodded, closing his eyes. Jack sat back in the seat next to his hospital bed, looking out the rain-drenched windows at the blurred lights of the city beyond.
“You made a major business decision that could have lost us billions while you were high, Jack.”
Shame blanketed him.
“I did.”
“You lost your shit completely,” Mitch continued. “Understandable, given what happened to Jaime and your relationship with Sam at the same time. That’s a one-two punch that would fell most men, but you have more responsibility than that. And you have me as a partner to help you bear the burden of managing things when you can’t do it alone.” Mitch opened his eyes, looking at Jack square in the face. “You’re going to rehab, Jack. I can’t trust you to manage this on your own.”
Jack immediately shook his head. “You know that’s not my style.”
“I don’t give a shit about your goddamn style, Jack,” Mitch responded seriously. “We helped you go cold turkey four years ago, but Jaime’s still got to heal, your parents can’t manage it, and I have to run the business with a bum leg now.” He considered Jack with a grave expression. “There will be no negotiations on this one, Jack. You’re going in.”
“I can kick this—”
“No, Jack,” Mitch shook his head, his face heavy with disappointment. “You know I’d back you in just about anything, but in this, I know now that you can’t. You can’t do this without help. Not this time.”
Somewhere, deep inside, Jack knew Mitch was right. The yearning had become too strong. He was up to almost a dozen pills a day now and in a staggeringly-short period of time. It seemed to adversely affect his insomnia, rendering him both numb and sleepless. He wasn’t in any condition to argue. Especially not with his hands shaking and his stomach already cramping from withdrawal. But just the thought of spending a month in some rehab in the company of broken-down celebrities and repeat offenders made him feel both defensive and pathetic, two feelings that felt so utterly foreign to him, he was at a momentary loss for words.
Jack’s mobile rang in his pocket. Relieved at the diversion and praying it was an update on Samantha, he snatched up the phone.
“Dad?” he answered. “What’d you find out?”
“It isn’t good,” Sandro told him. “But it’s not hopeless either.”
Jack sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s not dead,” he said in relief, exposing his worst fear.
“No, but she’s badly injured, Gianni,” Sandro continued, his voice somber. “Her back and spine were severely damaged in the fight. They’re flying her to Germany now. A team of surgeons are on standby—”
Jack stood. “Which hospital? Tell me where in Germany. I’m going.”
“Jack,” his father sighed. “You’ve been through your own terrible ordeal. Scotland Yard will want you to stay put, if they have more questions—”
“As far as they know, I was kidnapped and held by a few disgruntled Leviathan guards loyal to Lightner.”
“But—”
Mitch motioned for the phone.
Jack’s brow furrowed as he gave him a what-the-fuck look.
“Just give me the phone, Jack,” Mitch insisted, though his voice was tired.
Jack decided not to argue. “Dad? Hold on a second. Mitch wants to speak with you.”
Jack handed him the phone warily, unsure of what Mitch was planning to say.
“Hey, Sandro,” Mitch said, eyes on Jack. “Yes, I’m hanging in there, thanks. Now I’ll just have a cool scar to impress my future paramours with,” he chuckled softly. “Listen, the police already came and questioned both of us. I think Jack should go to Germany if that’s where Samantha is…”
Pause.
“Because he’ll be checking himself into rehab while he’s there,” Mitch finished.
Jack shot him a murderous look.
Mitch continued, unrepentant. “Yes, it’s unfortunate; he’s picked up the habit again. No, sir, I only just found out on this trip.”
Another pause.
“I think it’s best if he’s near Sam while he’s going through the program, don’t you think? Otherwise, he’ll just lose his mind worrying about her recovery, and that could have adverse effects. Don’t you agree—?”
Jack’s eyes widened. Even dosed up on morphine, Mitch was fucking brilliant. Now the idea of rehab didn’t seem so incredibly untenable.
“Sir, I’ll be fine,” Mitch assured his father. “Since we’re going into the holidays, I’ll just rest up for a couple weeks anyway. The business will be in my care while Jack goes through recovery.”
Mitch let his father continue on for a few moments before he wished him well and told him to remember him to Jack’s mother. He handed the phone back to Jack, closing his eyes tiredly as he lay back in the hospital bed.
“Gianni, why didn’t you tell me?” Sandro asked heavily. “Or your brother at least?”
“I’m sorry, Dad. Prendere uno svarione.”50 Jack answered, remorseful. “I didn’t want to worry anybody. I thought I had it under control.”
“Addiction doesn’t work that way, Gianni.”
“I know, Dad. I’ll check into a program as soon as I know Samantha will be okay. I swear it.”
“This will kill your mother.”
“No, it won’t,” Jack replied. “She’s far tougher than any of us. And she knew she was in for a lifetime of heartache when she had two boys. She says it all the time,” he pointed out, trying to infuse some lightness into the moment.
Sandro said nothing. Jack listened as his father mentally weighed the practicality of giving him the information he so desperately wanted versus what he thought his son needed. Jack could almost hear the gears shifting as Sandro, against his better judgment, landed on the side of providing him with Samantha’s whereabouts.
“They’re flying her to Hamburg; to the Asklepios Klinik Barmbek.”
“Thank you,” Jack exhaled. “I guess while I’m already disappointing you, I should let you know I won’t be back in time for Christmas.”
“Trovare pane per i proprio denti,51 Gianni,” his father said. “I’d like to make it through the rest of my life without either of my sons in the hospital or in a rehab facility.”
Jack smiled grimly. “Fare le corne.”52
*
Dec 22nd—Afternoon
Asklepios Klinik Barmbek, Hamburg, Germany
S A M A N T H A
Sam jolted awake.
She felt strange at first, like she was floating.
And then she felt pain. So much pain…
“Boss?” Rush’s face floated in front of her. “She’s awake; get the doctor!”
Sam forced her eyes shut, trying to focus, trying to remember—
She swallowed gingerly, but her throat felt swollen and sore. And her back was on fire, a scorching white-hot pain that wrenched a feeble moan from her.
“Ms. Wyatt?”
A foreign accent. German, maybe Austrian, she thought, but she couldn’t say for sure. She tried swallowing again, opening her eyes when she realized she had an obstruction in her throat.
“Just stay calm, Ms. Wyatt,” came the doctor’s voice. “We had to intubate you. We’ll remove the breathing tube now.”
Sam watched two pairs of gloved hands pull off her oxygen mask, carefully unpeeling the tape from the tube fixed to her mouth. The slick, burning feeling of the tube being pulled from her throat m
ade her cough and her eyes water.
A man’s face—older, distinguished, eyes bright with intelligence behind rimless glasses—hovered over her. “Welcome back, Ms. Wyatt. How are you feeling?”
Sam struggled to recall where she was, her sense of awareness eclipsed by the pain enveloping her.
“Water,” she whispered.
Rush, looking anxious and tired, appeared next to the doctor. His face was a little scruffy from a beard he rarely allowed to grow. Sam tried to smile reassuringly at him, but the agony made it more of a wince. Rush held a cup up to her, gently putting the straw in her mouth. Sam closed her eyes as she sipped, grateful for the cool water on the ravaged desiccation of her throat.
“Doc, she’s in too much pain—” she heard Rush say.
“How do you know?”
“Because she gets quiet when it’s too much.”
“Ms. Wyatt, can you talk?”
Sam opened her eyes slowly, trying to focus beyond the immediate suffering.
“Can you tell me your pain level from 1 to 10?” the doctor asked.
Her lips moved.
Rush bent forward to hear her.
She said it again.
He looked up at the doctor, blanching.
Sam closed her eyes, willing the sweet relief of unconsciousness to come and take her its arms.
“She said it’s a twelve, Doc. She said it’s a twelve.”
Chapter 36
Dec 22nd—Late Afternoon
Asklepios Klinik Barmbek, Hamburg, Germany
W E S L E Y
“You know what I never told you when we were in Austin, Sammy?” Wes asked as he stroked her motionless hand, elbows leaning on the bed. “In all those years we were apart I found myself missing the random shit about you,” he admitted ruefully. “The damndest things really—like the way you’d rub your neck when you couldn’t figure out something or how mad you’d get when I ate the last of the ice cream,” he laughed softly, staring at her pale, still face. “I missed watching you braid your hair in the morning, and the way you’d rub your cold feet against my calves at night. God, I used to hate that.” Wes shook his head, rubbing a hand down his jaw. “But when you weren’t there to do it anymore—I actually missed it. I missed all of it, Sammy—even your damn cold feet.”
Wes leaned forward, pressing his mouth to her hand. He wasn’t sure he believed in any kind of god, but it didn’t stop him from closing his eyes and sending out a little prayer of hope that she’d be alright. He stood, leaning over to brush her hair back as she slept on.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Wes’s head snapped up.
Jack Roman stood in the doorway of Sam’s hospital room, his face bruised and dark with anger.
“I could ask the same of you,” Wes replied, straightening slowly.
Jack’s eyes narrowed as he stepped into the room. “Why wouldn’t I be here after learning of Samantha’s condition?”
Wes’s chin came up. “It’s my understanding Sammy ended things with you.”
“Really?” Jack replied, his recently-stitched brow rising. “Because it was my understanding she ended things with you over a dozen years ago.” His eyes narrowed. “And yet, here you stand before me.”
Wes stepped away from her bed, walking toward him. “You shouldn’t be here, Jack.”
Jack’s returning look was mocking. “And you should?”
“You’ve known her for what?” Wes asked. “A few months? I’ve loved that girl all my adult life, Jack.”
“You’ve got an interesting way of showing it,” Jack replied, crossing his arms. “Exactly where have you been most of your adult life, Wes? Because the way I see it, you weren’t standing beside Samantha during that time.”
Wes took a deep breath, his hackles rising. “You can’t understand.”
“No, I understand this perfectly,” Jack responded, eyes flickering toward her. “I understand that you had her, you lost her, and now she’s mine. I understand that you would love to have her back, but the reality is that a guy like you can’t keep a woman like her happy.” Jack shook his head. “No, she’s too complicated for you, Wes. Samantha’s become someone else in all the years you spent away from her, and even if you had the chance to don your shining armor and storm the castle, you’d never be a match for her now. You’d never be the kind of man she needs.”
Wes’s lips curled. “I already stormed the castle, Jack,” he drawled. “And I gave her exactly what she needed,” he added, his voice heavy with meaning. “Or didn’t you know?”
Jack took a lightning-fast step toward Wes, but he was ready for it. He moved back just enough to assume a fighting stance.
“Whoa! Whoa! What in the hell are you two doing here?” Evan Rush appeared at the door holding a cup of hot coffee, staring at them both in surprise. “Look, I can tell that you two want to kick each other’s asses, but you can’t do that here,” he pointed out, looking over his shoulder. “And definitely not right now.” Evan stepped back out in the hall, gesturing for them to follow.
“I came to see Samantha,” Jack stated calmly, ignoring Wes as they came out of her room.
“I can see that,” Evan nodded. “Carey called me and told me to expect you. I just figured it’d be later. He said you had to deal with the Scotland Yard first.”
“I did.” Jack glanced back into her room, concern and anxiety etched on his bruised face. “How is she?”
“You know her. Tough as nails.”
Jack nodded, rubbing a hand down his bruised jaw. “What happened to her in Afghanistan?”
“Nazar took a knife to her back,” Evan told him, shaking his head remorsefully. “He carved all the way to her spine. The doctors have done what they can to reconnect the severed nerves and vertebrae. That’s why she’s in traction—to alleviate some of the pressure to the spine, but we don’t know how extensive the damage is yet. She was in too much pain to tell us when she was awake earlier.”
Wes watched Jack blanch at the news. He knew exactly how he felt. The flight from Afghanistan to Germany, with Sam hovering at death’s door, had been the longest, most awful ride of his life. They’d nearly lost her. Sam had stopped breathing mid-flight, and watching the medical team revive her was one of the most traumatic things he’d ever had to witness as he stood to the side with Talon and Rush, unable to do anything but watch and pray.
“Is she paralyzed?” Jack asked, looking back at her.
“They’re not sure yet,” Evan admitted. “She’s so doped up now that I don’t think she can feel anything. Her legs have been somewhat responsive to stimulus, but until she’s awake and well enough to communicate and move around a little, we won’t really know.”
“I need to see her,” Jack responded immediately. “Rush, just tell them she’s my fiancé or something. Get me in there—”
“Over my dead body,” Wes argued, turning toward him, spoiling for a chance to damage Jack’s face even more than it was. “There’s no goddamn way I’ll let you parade around as her husband again.”
“Over your dead body? Really, Wes?” Jack glared at him through bruised eyes. “In my mood, I’d happily comply.”
“Alright, guys, let’s not talk crazy—I’ll talk to the doctors,” Evan assured them both, trying to placate them in the hospital corridor. “The only reason I’m able to go in there is because she appointed me her conservator in Carey’s absence. I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“Then how was this asshole in there?” Jack asked, frowning at Wes.
Evan rolled his eyes. “Because Wes is a slippery little fucker, and he’s the master at sneaking into places he ought not to be,” he chided, shaking his head at him. Wes returned Evan’s look with an unrepentant glare. “I had to guard his ass for a few weeks in Rio,” Evan reminded Jack. “I should’ve known better than to leave him in the waiting room while I went for coffee.”
Jack blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing his hand along his unshaven jaw. “I can’t
stand not knowing if she’ll be okay.”
“Look, there’s no way I can get you both in to see her tonight anyway. Visiting hours are over,” Evan explained. He looked at Jack. “Will you at least get checked into the hotel we’re staying at? If Sam wakes up seeing you both looking like pieces of rough trade, it’ll stress her out, and she doesn’t need that right now, okay?”
“Just get me five minutes with her,” Jack replied.
Evan glanced down the hallway. “You have one,” he countered. “Starting now.”
Jack disappeared immediately. Wes moved to follow him, but Evan held him back with a tight hand to his shoulder.
“Wes, now’s not the time for you two to be hashing your shit out.”
Wes snorted. “Well, hell, Evan, when will it ever be?”
“I’m serious,” he answered. “Sam’s not good. The pain she’s in—” Evan shook his head. “The last thing she needs is to be worried about you two.”
“How bad is it?” Wes asked. Fear for her made his voice falter.
Evan’s eyes flickered toward Sam’s room. “They’re giving her enough morphine and sedatives right now to keep an elephant down for the count.”
Wes nodded, swallowing hard.
Evan let go of his shoulder with a brief pat. “We’ve all been through hell, Wes, but you’ve got to keep it together, man. She’s going to need to stay focused on healing, and she doesn’t need any more reasons to turn inward. You get me?”
Wes nodded. He was relieved Evan knew her so well. When Sam needed help the most, that’s when she asked for it the least.
“And get some sleep, man. You look like shit too.” Evan smirked. “I mean, more than usual.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
“Anytime,” he returned, sipping his coffee as he moved toward Sam’s room. “And try not to give Jack a beating on the way to the hotel. From the look of his face, seems like he already got one.”
Then why not another? Wes thought darkly as he watched Jack touch her face, before leaning in to kiss her mouth. “I oughtta kick his ass six ways to Sunday,” he muttered under his breath.
Complicated Creatures: Part Two Page 36