He couldn’t get the gruesome images of his mom out of his mind, and that morning, Marie had finally given him the details about the day Simeon had tried to get her to his place. He didn’t know if he was angrier at Simeon, or at Marie for being so naïve. But more than that, he was pissed because she hadn’t trusted him to handle the issue.
Oh yes, Eric Ripley had a score to settle with Simeon Cahill. And if he did things right, no one would ever find out. He had purchased all new clothes at the airport when he touched down from Chicago and was now covered from head to toe in all black. He’d combed out all excess hair, then the Vaseline layered on all exposed skin would create a barrier against leaving excess DNA. He would be careful. Very careful.
Eric reached the twenty-fifth floor, cracked the door, and looked in to see how many people were around. It was quiet. No one was in sight. He dashed out, made a beeline to an empty cubicle, and curled his body under the desk. A sharp pain and heavy pressure just behind his nose blinded him momentarily, giving him pause. He steadied his breathing, crawled out from under the desk, and cautiously looked over the top of the cubicle. Simeon paced in his office, a bloodied towel pressed to his face.
Eric waited, timing his movements to coincide with Simeon’s footsteps. When the shorter man made another pass in front of the door, Eric crashed in, using the door to put Simeon on his back. He followed up with a few punches to Simeon’s face. “You asshole. Raped my mother.” Bam—another fist landed. This time in the chest.
Simeon shoved him. “Man, get the fuck off me before I kick your puny little ass.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Eric snarled, continuing to use Simeon as a punching bag.
Simeon’s body caved in under the well-placed blows.
“You put your hands on my mother! She’s done nothing to you! Nothing! Where’s my mother? Where is she?” Eric punctuated every remark with another savage blow.
Simeon rolled to his side, protecting his hideously swollen face. “What’s wrong with y’all?” he growled. “First your fatass mama. Now your crazy ass—”
“Wrong answer!” Eric lit into him again, then left off to scramble to the desk and pull out Simeon’s gun—the one Simeon thought no one knew about.
Eric dragged the battered man to his feet, released the safety and planted the barrel against his chest. “You’re going to take me to my mother. And I mean now!”
❤ ❤ ❤
As Pierce and Ava stood at Raven’s bedside, his phone rang, jolting them.
“Pierce, turn that off in here.”
“It’s Marie,” Pierce informed Ava after he glanced at the screen. “Eric could be trying to find us. I’ll make it quick.”
He listened to Marie’s impassioned voice and went cold. “When did this happen?” he said into the phone.
Pierce hung up and didn’t mince words. “We’ve got more problems.”
Ava’s gaze fixed onto him.
“A woman at MEG called Marie to tell her she saw Eric drag Sim out of the building.”
Ava shrugged, relief flashing in her hazel eyes. “That’s nothing serious.”
“At gunpoint.”
She covered her eyes. “Oh, sweet Jesus!”
For a split second, he hoped that Eric would do away with Sim’s tired ass. On second thought, he hoped Simeon was still alive so he could kill the asshole himself.
Raven’s whisper carried over the sound of the monitors. “Save my baby. Please save my baby.” She tried to say more, but wasn’t able.
Pierce leaned over, kissed her forehead, and said, “I heard you, baby. I’ll be right back.”
Eric would have demanded Sim take him to Raven. Since they hadn’t been able to reach him, Eric wouldn’t know that she was in the hospital. Eric knew Sim’s fondness for using his home as his private whorehouse, so Pierce would start looking for Eric there. He flagged the first cab he could and headed for Simeon’s house in the Hamptons. His impatience grew in proportion to the snarl of New York City traffic.
At the black wrought iron gate, Pierce scouted the area, then climbed up over the brick wall surrounding Sim’s estate.
He listened for the barking of the watchdogs. Everything was eerily silent. Where the hell was Eric? And what the hell had he been thinking? Dumb question—he’d been thinking the same thing as Pierce: avenge Raven by killing Simeon. Though he applauded Eric’s courage, he was terrified for the young man, especially since Marie told Pierce that Eric knew what Sim had tried to do to her. Double-barreled fury was fueling Eric’s actions, and that made the young man a deadly adversary.
Pierce sprinted across the lawn, feeling every bit the criminal, then ducked behind a statue. If the dogs were loose on the grounds, they would have had him by now. Sim would be glad to have someone come and get Eric off his ass—if his ass was still conscious enough to be grateful.
He opened the front door. No guards. That alone had Pierce worried. He stepped into the foyer. “Eric!”
No answer.
He started across the floor, his footsteps clattering against the Italian marble tile. “Eric!”
Pierce thought he heard a thump overhead. He charged up one of the twin spiral staircases, and ran down the east wing to the master bedroom.
What he saw on the other side of the door made his pulse trip.
Eric sat on the floor beside the bed, back against the wall, one gloved hand propping the side of his head. Gloved hand. Gloved hand. Shit! Shit! Shit! The pearl-handled gun lay in his other hand, deadly and dazzling in the sun splintering through the slats.
Simeon lay sprawled unconscious on his massive bed, the white bedding stained with blood.
“Eric?”
The young man remained strangely still.
“Eric.”
“He raped my mother, Pierce.” The young man’s voice was filled with so much anguish, it tore into Pierce’s soul.
“He tried, but didn’t succeed.”
Eric lifted his head a little. “He hurt her! And he tried to hurt my wife!”
“I just came from the hospital,” Pierce stated carefully as he slowly approached Eric. “They’re taking care of her.”
Eric nodded, but the empty look in his eyes said differently. He lifted his hand and waved the gun.
Pierce jumped back. “Eric, give me the gun.”
“I couldn’t do it.” He lowered his face to his knees, as he curled into himself, but didn’t relinquish the piece.
“Okay, but give me the gun, Eric.”
He waved it again. “He’s an asshole.”
“I agree,” Pierce said patiently, holding out his hand to Eric. “Now hand me the gun.”
“Why couldn’t I shoot him?” Eric whispered. “He wouldn’t have a problem shooting me.”
Pierce waited, choosing his words carefully. “Because you have a good heart.”
“Somebody needs to hurt him. He’s hurt so many people.”
“But it can’t be you, son.”
Eric turned his face to Pierce. “He…Marie…he…he…”
“But he didn’t, Eric.”
“He wanted to…to force her…She didn’t deserve that.”
“No, she didn’t,” Pierce said quietly. “Eric, the gun, please.”
Eric’s bottom lip trembled as he held out his hand and looked oddly at the gun. He glanced at Simeon, then at Pierce.
“Eric, give me the gun!”
“Men are supposed to protect their women.”
“Real men are supposed to follow the law and let God sort it all out.”
“I am following the law. God’s law.” His voice was hard, eyes steely. “ ‘If thy right hand offend thee, pluck it out.’ Or is it ‘An eye for an eye?’ ”
Eric raised the gun and aimed it carefully at Simeon.
“Eric!”
The young man pulled back. “Pierce?”
“Yes, Eric. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Eric lowered the gun, clicked the safety, and tossed it on th
e floor at Pierce’s feet.
Pierce’s relief was short lived.
Eric froze, his eyes rolled back, and he began to shake in a full-blown seizure. Pierce grabbed him, trying to keep him still. “Eric, talk to me. Oh, shit!”
Pierce ran to grab the phone beside Simeon’s bed and dialed 911. “I need an ambulance right away. A seventeen-year-old with brain tumors is having a seizure.” Then against his better judgment, he added, “And you need to send help for another unconscious man.”
“You’re at,” the dispatcher rattled off the address, “the residence of Simeon Cahill?”
“That’s right.”
“We’ll send the ambulances right away.”
The seizure stopped. Eric opened his eyes. “Pierce?”
Pierce ran over to Eric, scooped him up from the floor, and carried him to the stairs. He could already be at the gate when they arrived. “Help’s coming, Eric. Hang in there.”
“Tell Marie I love her. Tell Mama I love her, too. And Aunt Avie. And you, too.”
Pierce kept his emotions at bay as he hurried up the brick-lined path. “Stop talking like that. You’re going to be fine.”
“I’ve never had one of those, Pierce,” he whispered hoarsely. “This feels bad. Real bad. My eyesight’s going in and out. I’m dying, Pierce.”
“They’re going to take you to the hospital.” Pierce navigated the stairs carefully. “No more talk of dying right now. You can’t die today. Not on my watch. Your mother will kill me!”
Eric gave him a weak smile. “Love my mother…Pierce. Take care of her.”
“I will.”
Then Eric’s lips twitched and he half-sobbed, “I want to see my child.”
“You will. Just hang on!” Pierce whispered, his heart beating faster than he knew possible. “If there’s a chance they can do the—”
“Anything, Pierce, as long as they…don’t slice me…in half to get…the job done.”
Pierce fumbled with the controls to get the gate open. The paramedics sped up the path. They scrambled out the back of the ambulance with a stretcher, wheeling it up to meet him.
Another ambulance trailed the first one. Pierce flagged it down and told the driver, “He’s upstairs in the bedroom in the east wing. Eight doors down from the landing.”
Pierce followed the first paramedics into the back of the ambulance.
Eric closed his eyes. Unresponsive.
Raven’s words, “Save my baby,” echoed in Pierce’s mind. She hadn’t asked for much, but in this one thing Pierce might fail. Eric was in God’s hands now.
“Pierce.” Eric jerked up, gripped his jacket. “Call my doctor in Chicago. Have them send…my latest…scans, records…everything…to the hospital.”
Even damn near dying the boy was still trying to direct traffic. Pierce whipped out his cell.
“Sir, you can’t use that in here.”
Pierce groaned as he shut it off. “Can you radio ahead and ask someone to call—”
“Dr. Julie Taylor…in Chicago,” Eric supplied.
“And have his latest records sent to the hospital you’re taking him to.”
Eric recited the number.
Pierce opened his mouth, but the paramedic cut him off. “I heard him.”
“Eric, stop thinking. Give your brain a rest.”
“I’ll rest when my brain’s no longer working. Call Marie.”
Pierce closed his eyes hard to try and keep his volcanic emotions controlled. “I will as soon as we get to the hospital.”
“Who’s with my mother?”
“Ava and Steve.”
“She’s really going to be okay?”
Pain slashed across Pierce’s heart. From what the doctor said, Raven was far from okay. The thought of losing her, not loving her, not holding her, was unfathomable, but he couldn’t tell Eric the truth—at least not before he was stabilized.
“She’s going to be just fine.”
“You’re lying, Pierce,” Eric croaked.
“No, son.”
“You’re crying.” Eric gestured toward Pierce’s tear-stained face, and wiped at the moisture.
Pierce hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down his face. Two of the most important people in his life, both on the brink of death—and why? Why hadn’t Raven trusted him? Right now, he’d move to the North Pole if it meant having her alive. “She’s strong. She’s going to be all right,” he said. “You, on the other hand, are trying to check me the hell up out of here!”
The paramedics put Eric in a head brace to keep him still.
Eric gripped Pierce’s hand.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” As much as it pained him to stay away from Raven, her words—save my baby—dictated his actions.
How had he gone from having practically no family to having more family than he could handle?
❤ ❤ ❤
Pierce finally managed to reach Marie after they’d arrived at Southampton Hospital.
“Oh my God! I’m freaking out here!” she shrieked. “What happened to Eric!”
“Marie, calm down. Try to get here as soon as possible. They can’t treat him until you do.”
“Let me talk to him.”
Pierce turned back and looked through the window at Eric. “He’s not in a position to talk right now.”
Behind him, a nurse came. “Sir? Sir? We need to ask you some questions.”
“Marie, I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t let him die, Pierce!”
“I’ll call you back, Marie.” He followed the nurse to Eric’s room and stood at his bedside.
Dr. Kotis, an olive-skinned man with a slight build and grey eyes, turned away from Eric to focus on the older man. “Are you his father?”
Pierce was stunned by the question.
“Sir?”
Eric was awake, but barely coherent. “Dad, Mom, Marie, Avie. God. God.” Eric pointed to Pierce, grasped his hand. “Dad. Dad.”
“He pointed toward the door, asking for you,” said Dr. Kotis.
The nurse leaned toward Eric. “Does your father have permission to consent to treatment?”
Eric tightened his grip on Pierce’s hand. “Dad Pierce. Dad Pierce.”
Pierce took Eric’s hand. He felt the slight pressure as Eric tried to convey his message.
“We wasted all this time waiting for someone else? Why didn’t you say you were his father?”
“Yes. Dad. Dad!” Eric shrieked. “God, Marie, Mom, Dad, Pierce, Avie. Love,” Eric chanted.
“Okay, Eric, I get it.” Then to the nurse, he said, “Yes, I’m his father.”
Dr. Kotis continued, “There’s a procedure we could use on your son. It hasn’t been done here, but if we can’t do a craniotomy, it’s his only chance. The presenters, Drs. Kassam and Snyderman, are at a hospital about twenty-four miles away lecturing on the procedure. I was there when they paged me for this.”
The nurse handed Pierce a form attached to a clipboard.
“Somebody explain what it is they’re going to do,” he said, flicking a gaze over the documents. “What am I agreeing to?”
“The endonasal approach,” the doctor said. “We go through his nose to get to the tumors.”
Pierce swallowed hard, ran a hand over his bare head. “How is it different from a craniotomy?”
“A craniotomy is the more traditional approach—probably the most preferred in this case. A craniotomy can involve external incisions in the face with removal of the bony facial elements and portions of the skull.”
“He doesn’t want that.”
“We understand that, Mr. Randall,” Dr. Kotis said in a dry tone. “The endonasal approach is a revolutionary surgical technique that uses the nose and nasal sinuses to gain access to the most critical areas of the brain by threading narrow scopes and miniature surgical tools into the soft tissue of the nasal opening. Without taking off large segments of the skull or facial bones, we can take out baseball-sized growt
hs bit by bit without pulling on the brain or touching the normal tissue.” Dr. Kotis referred to an illuminated image to make his point. “Patients are often discharged within several days, leaving the hospital with no incisions or scars and few, if any, lingering side effects.”
Pierce scratched his head. “Has it been tried on anyone else or will you all be testing it out on…my son?”
“It was refined at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center by the very doctors who are presenting the seminar.”
“Can we bring them here?”
“We already have a call in to interrupt the session. They’ll be up to it, especially if we allow them to bring the seminar participants here as well, and they do it in the cathedral.”
Pierce frowned. “Cathedral?”
The doctor gave him a thin smile. “It’s a place where students and other doctors can observe the procedure. If they agree, we’ll get him prepped for the OR, and by the time they arrive, it’ll be show time.”
Pierce looked over the form and tried to remember all of the things Eric had said he didn’t want with regards to his treatment. He peered around the room, taking in all the tubes hooked up to the young man, feeling the enormity of the decision weighing on him. “What else can you tell me about the procedure?”
“We put a head and neck surgeon and a brain surgeon on the same team, performing the operation simultaneously.” He pointed to a whiteboard where names had been written in erasable marker. “Our people have already been called in. This has to be done jointly by an endocrinologist, a hormone specialist, and a neurosurgeon, although an eye or ENT specialist might also need to be on hand since Eric’s experiencing some bouts of blindness.”
Pierce still hesitated to sign. What if Eric dies because I had them do this procedure and not the craniotomy, which would be easier for the doctors? Pierce looked up from the form.
“If we can get to it in time, he’ll have an excellent chance of successful treatment and a full recovery.
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