Unease crept up the back of Jameson’s neck. Boyington wasn’t usually this quiet or this nice. “What’s going on, sir?”
“You’re at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center.”
His mouth went dry. Landstuhl was one step away from being sent home. Not good. “I’m in Germany? Why?”
“You’re going back to the States, son.”
“Why? I’m not hurt. Honest, I’m… Sweet Baby Jesus, I’m ready to get back in the fight. I’m—”
“You sustained a tertiary blast injury when you hit the wall back there. You’re lucky you’re alive. The blast caused irreparable damage to your retinas. They detached. The doctors here couldn’t reverse the damage. You’re… damnit, you’re blind.”
“I’m… What?” Jameson ran both hands over his face, feeling for bandages or bruises on his cheeks or around his eyes. A wound or a hole. Blood. Something! “I’m not blind. I can’t be. I’m just… It’s dark, and I’m just… Where the fuck’s Shakespeare? Derby? They’ll tell you. It’s a concussion. No big deal.”
“Jameson… Saint… Son... They’re…”
The heaviness in those words ripped the world out from under him. “No!” he told his LT with vigor. “They’re not… I’m not blind, and they can’t be...” That. No. God, no.
“They’re gone, Jameson. The A-10s arrived right after that daisy chain cut you, Steed, and Yeats down. They were the only fatalities. You’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
Me, lucky? Them, dead? Does. Not. Compute.
“But the… the donkey.” Jameson had no idea why he asked. Nothing made sense. Not this impenetrable darkness. Not the sucking black hole in his chest that had nothing to do with daisy chains or IEDs or A-10s or his eyes or—
“You saved those two kids. That damned donkey, too. That’s what’s important. Focus on the good you did. I called your parents. They’ll be here tonight.”
“My mom?” he asked like an idiot.
“And your dad. They took the first flight out of Virginia this morning. Hang tight. They’re on their way. They’ll be here as soon as they can, and I’m not going anywhere. You need something, you tell me, understand? I’m not leaving until they ship you out.”
“But Eeyore,” Jameson murmured to himself, the life inside of him somehow so much less than it had been only minutes ago. So much darker. Uncomfortably foreign feeling. As if one of those slimy creatures from the movie “Aliens” had crawled into his body and poured acid over everything he’d ever been. Ever wanted to be. A SEAL. A brother. As if all he’d given his heart and soul to, was simply—gone.
Boyington didn’t respond. No yay or nay or anything. And Jameson was listening, as hard as he’d ever listened in his life. His life—before.
Something was running down his face. It had better be blood. Not tears. Because he refused to give up or give in. So what if he couldn’t see? So what if he’d never see Christmas lights again? So what if there would never be shadows, or sunsets, or first glances, or depth perception, or pretty blondes or redheads or—son of a fuckin’ bitch! Only inky black darkness that, right then, was suffocating the living shit out of him!
Good God! How could this have happened? To him! With just one explosion—or explosions—he’d gone from being at the top of his game and his team—his SEAL team!—to being nothing. No one. The Navy didn’t need blind SEALs. He’d be out-processed on a fuckin’ medical. He’d be a has-been. A wannabe.
But if Boyington was right… If he really was blind… Shit!
This wasn’t luck. This was another damned war, and Jameson was in the fight of his life. Because nothing—do you hear me world?—nothing, kept Jameson Tenney down!
Chapter One
Alex Stewart didn’t dare breathe. Couldn’t.
It was an early morning in August, and it had been a damned long night. He was remembering how smoothly his second daughter’s birth had gone. They’d gotten to the hospital in plenty of time, and Kelsey’s labor had amounted to less than an hour, give or take a few excruciating minutes. Lexie hadn’t been able to wait to meet her mom.
But the baby boy in Doc Fitz’s very capable hands now, had struggled all night and every inch of his way into the world. He was struggling still. Despite the best gynecologist in the business and Doc Fitz’s excellent pediatric skills, Bradley Patrick Stewart had arrived blue and in obvious distress. Which was the reason his mother had undergone an emergency cesarean the moment his stats bottomed out.
The little boy was just too big, his mother too small. He’d clawed his way through the birth canal, and had almost made it when, suddenly, just as his big head peaked, he’d stopped breathing.
So had Alex. Life really did stand still sometimes. Hearts quit beating, too. He didn’t dare speak. Didn’t know what to say, or who to say it to. Certainly didn’t want Kelsey to overhear any question that might make her panic or jump to conclusions.
Breathe, he silently commanded his first son. Want to live, Bradley. Dare to beat the odds, son. You’ve already fought for the privilege, now stay, damn it. Stay with us. Don’t break your mom’s heart. She needs you, and God, so do I.
Tears brimmed Alex’s eyes, blurring Doc Fitz’s hellbent, yet urgent actions as she cleared the little guy’s airway, suctioning away whatever he’d breathed in at the last moment. She’d given Alex a quick second to cut the umbilical cord, before another nurse had attached a belt around Bradley’s skinny, unresponsive chest to monitor his stats, or lack of them. After suctioning his airways, Doc Fitz set the nasal bulb aside and held a small oxygen mask to the baby’s bluish face.
Lexie had been born screaming, red-faced, and mad as hell. But Bradley was quiet. Too damned quiet.
God, don’t do this to your mom!
“Alex, what’s wrong?” that weary mom asked tiredly from the birthing bed where her obstetrician was stitching her tummy. “Why isn’t he crying? Lexie did. Is Bradley okay?”
Alex looked at Doc Fitz from beneath his lashes, daring her to break the news, and in doing so, break Kelsey’s heart. Are you going to tell her, or does that dastardly deed fall to me? he wondered, his heart stuck in his throat and pounding too hard. Maybe too loud.
“Alex?”
He hated the tremor in his sweet wife’s voice, nearly as much as he hated himself. He’d failed her. If this little boy had come all this way only to die, what kind of man did that make his father? Standing idly by, twiddling his thumbs, not able to do a damned thing to save his son?
“There we go. Upsie daisy. You can do it, little one. I know you can,” Doc Fitz soothed calmly, her competent fingers moving surely over Bradley’s ribs, the other cupping his head as she lifted him, and—
“Ba-ba-bah!” He cried! His flat chest sucked in and his skinny arms flailed, and he sucked in another big gulp of life. And by hell! He was going to make it!
Tears filled Alex’s eyes. His chin hit his chest in utmost humility. God, thank you. Only then could he face Kelsey and tell her with confidence, “Bradley wants his mom.”
She was tired, but still so damned beautiful, his heart hurt to look at her. Her tender smile told him she knew him too well, that he hadn’t hid a thing from her. Not even the disaster that could’ve been.
“Then bring him to me,” she commanded her lowly servant, one arm stretched out and her fingers fluttering. She was a queenly study in sweaty chocolate browns and luscious pinks this morning. Alex wanted to obey, but—
“Not yet,” Doc Fitz purred, as if she hadn’t performed the greatest miracle of her life. “I’m not finished with this handsome boy yet. Just a couple more tests, Kelsey. I’ll be quick.”
“Is he breathing okay?” she asked, peering around the nurse who was assisting her OB doctor.
“He’s just fine, but he sure gave me a scare when his heart decided to stop for a couple minutes there. Didn’t you, big guy?” she asked the now squirming baby boy.
“What caused it?” Alex asked tersely, needing that problem fixed rig
ht damned now.
“To be honest, I’m not precisely sure. Birth is hard, even on tough little soldiers, and sometimes babies are in a big hurry to be born. They want out. If he’s anything like you, he probably crushed his umbilical cord on his mad dash to freedom. It wasn’t wrapped around his neck, and that’s a good sign. Thanks to Dr. Brown’s decision to perform the C-section right here, Bradley wasn’t without oxygen for long. Probably simple hypoxia. His cord got pinched during those last moments of labor just long enough to scare all of us.”
She turned to really look at Alex then. “You can breathe now, Dad. You and Kelsey make beautiful babies.”
He didn’t want to just breathe. He wanted to cry. And roar! He was a dad again! He… they had a son. Kelsey needed this third little boy so bad. Aw, hell. Tears flooded his vision, blurring his view of heaven. He dashed them away. Quickly, damn it.
While Kelsey’s doctor finished his work, Dr. McKenna Fitzgerald-Villanueva worked quickly, assessing Bradley, talking to him as if he understood everything she said. His hair was a lighter brown than Lexie and Kelsey’s. He blinked up at her with the startling wonder of a newborn. He had so much to look forward to.
McKenna wasn’t only an old friend, she was also married to one of Alex’s best agents. Even now, Beau Villanueva stood patiently outside Kelsey’s door, waiting to be invited in to celebrate the newest addition to The TEAM. Several other agents and their wives waited with him, which was probably the only reason Beau hadn’t already barged in. The man had less patience than Alex.
The only one missing in this family Alex called The TEAM was the woman he’d loved first. His mom. Abigail Stewart would’ve loved being here for the birth of her first grandson.
“There we go,” McKenna crooned.
By then, Kelsey’s doctor had packed up and excused himself. His nurse had left with him. Bradley’s feet had been blackened and printed like the little criminal he was, guilty of scaring his mom and dad like he had. Alex’s fingers itched to hold him. He needed the scent of his son in his nose, and he needed to kiss the little beggar. But mostly, he needed to be the one who carried his son across the room and put him in his mother’s arms. That was a father’s right, not McKenna’s.
“May I?” he asked Doc Fitz pointedly.
She looked up at him again, and damned if she didn’t see right through him. But he guessed most doctors could tell a smitten fool when they saw one. In a deck of poker cards, Kelsey was the queen of hearts. He was nothing more than her most humble servant.
“Of course,” McKenna said as she finished wrapping Bradley, turning him into a snug, blue-and-white-striped papoose. Gingerly, she lifted him from the exam table and transferred him into Alex’s arms. “He’s all yours, Dad.”
With one hit of the scent off that little boy’s dark, wet head, more tears sprang to his father’s eyes. A son. Alex had a son, his first, Kelsey’s third. He almost hated to give this newborn boy to her, afraid of the memories this little man might invoke. But nothing could bring the boys she’d lost, Jackie and Tommy, back, and this wasn’t her second chance to be the mother of a son. This was simply, irrevocably, Bradley’s time on Earth. Kelsey had to be feeling the same tender emotions Alex was today. She’d be remembering the births of her other boys, the same as he was remembering the day Abby was born.
And just as swiftly, Kelsey would remember how she’d lost them, and where they were buried. Like Jackie and Tommy, dear sweet Abby was also gone. And this precious moment was just one of those oddly wretched, overwhelmingly joy-filled, spiritual moments in time, when it seemed the family members they’d lost were with them again. Unseen, but just as alive as the wiggling baby in his hands.
It wasn’t often Alex thought about his mother, but he felt Abigail Stewart’s sweet presence here today. She would adore Kelsey, and she’d be thrilled to be a grandmother again. The grandparents who’d raised Alex, Patrick Bradley and Patricia Rose Southerland Stewart, Paddy and Pat, were here as well, both beaming down on him, Kelsey, and Bradley with love and pride. Probably tearing up, too.
The thought struck Alex hard. Because that meant Sara, his first wife, had to be here as well, and Abby, his first darling daughter, had come with her mom to meet her brother. The thought unnerved him, nearly unmanned him. But Kelsey’s arms were stretched open wide, waiting. Smiling. With his nose still flat against the head of the tiny man in his arms, Alex leaned into the woman he adored with his whole heart, and whispered, “Here’s your son, Mama.”
Of course, tears were streaming down her cheeks by then. Kelsey was a crier, and today, Alex was, too.
“Ohhhh,” she mewed, as she too, flattened her nose and lips to their son’s damp head, kissing Bradley while she breathed him in the same way Alex had. “I love you, Bradley Patrick, and I love your father so, so much. I can’t wait for you to meet your older sister. Lexie is so excited to meet you.”
“She was wrong. She thought we were having a baby sister.” Lexie had, in fact, insisted lately that all new babies were girls.
“She won’t care once she holds him. You’ll see. He’s got your hair color and your blue eyes. He’s going to look just like you.”
“All babies have blue eyes,” he reminded his sweetheart. “And no kid wants to be as ugly as me.”
She shook her head. “No, Alex. Trust me. This boy will grow up to be strong and noble, like you. He’s your son. He’s… he’s beautiful.” She kissed Bradley again and again, her lashes spiked with tears, as she sobbed into his perfectly round head. A head that was probably as hard as his dad’s.
Alex never argued, just closed his eyes at Kelsey’s unrelenting love for him, and let her believe whatever she wanted. That was the one rule of marriage he’d finally learned: Never argue with the woman you love and always trust her intuition. Why not? He’d trusted his gut, why shouldn’t she trust hers? Those two inexplicable gifts might just come from the same place.
He pulled up a chair, content to sit with his wife and son for as long as he could. This was the closest he’d ever get to heaven. Why not bask in the glory?
His trusted senior agent, Mark Houston, would run The TEAM for the next two weeks, maybe longer if Alex decided to extend his family leave. Mark was capable. He and his wife Libby were two good friends. They’d understand.
“Would you like to try to nurse him before we invite the horde in?” McKenna asked, from the other side of Kelsey’s bed.
“They’re still out there?”
“Yes,” Alex confirmed. “They’ve been here all night.”
Kelsey smiled through her tears. “Guess they’ve waited long enough then, huh? Sure, let’s see if this little guy’s hungry after scaring his daddy to death.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Alex declared, but then added, “much.”
He smiled at how easily Kelsey bared her breast and handled this little boy like she knew what she was doing. There was a day not too long ago that she’d been timid and shy, afraid of everything, and so damned modest. Not anymore.
Hungrily, the little guy’s prehensile lips searched, then quickly, he latched onto his mama’s dusky nipple. Alex’s heart swelled with pride. He huffed out a soul cleansing breath, part relief and part job well done. His son knew just what to do with that nipple. Damned straight.
McKenna’s cell phone chirped. Lifting it from the pocket of her scrubs, she glanced at the screen and grinned. “It’s Beau again. He wants to know if they can come in yet?”
Kelsey drew the blanket up, covering herself and Bradley. “Sure. Let everyone in. Bradley might as well get used to his rowdy uncles and aunts.”
“Are you sure?” Alex had to ask. That was his brand-new baby son slurping like a little pig at his wife’s breast underneath that blanket. He wasn’t even an hour old yet. The whole damned world could wait a minute.
But right on cue, sweet Kelsey exclaimed, “Sure. I want to see Beau blush again.”
McKenna chuckled. “Oh, trust me, breas
tfeeding doesn’t embarrass Beau. But your unmarried agents might feel uncomfortable. Let’s find out.”
Walking briskly to the door, she flung it open, and in they came. Beau led the pack, then Mark Houston and Libby. Gabe Cartwright and Shelby. Maverick Carson and China. Seth McCray and Devereaux. Lee Hart and Tess. Hunter Christian and Meredith. My hell, they were all there. Even Renner Graves and his wife Tara Shanahan, the former Olympic hopeful, had come to welcome Bradley into the fold. Beckam and Camilla Garner, too.
As predicted, Beau gave his wife a quick peck, then headed straight for Kelsey’s bedside. “He’s hungry already? That’s a real good sign.” His dark eyes were bright as he grabbed the only other chair in the room and pulled it alongside Alex, as if it had been reserved for him. “How’s it feel being a dad again, Boss?”
“Good,” Alex offered easily. Damned good. Perfect, actually. So damned good he had to wipe a quick hand over his face again. Beau had changed dramatically over these past two years, first when he’d met McKenna, second when he’d become a father. If Alex changed as much as Beau had, hell, he’d almost be nice.
“Aww,” Ember Dennison cooed, a bulky gift bag in one hand as she came through the door. Here was another hard kick in the gut. She and Rory had suffered miscarriage after miscarriage since they’d married. It was about time they had a baby to show for all their trouble. Yet here she was. Supporting Kelsey and with a gift in her hand, but going home without her own baby in her arms.
She tossed the bag at Alex. “Rory said you’re gonna need this.”
Alex peered into the bag at the child-sized catcher’s mitt, then back into her bright green eyes. She had—that look. Was she pregnant? Again? That would make four miscarriages in three years. She’d always handled life differently than most. Hence the Nebraska Cornhuskers football jersey she wore. But how could she keep trying so hard to get pregnant when it always ended in heartbreak? What was Rory thinking to put her through that?
Come to think of it, that shirt was a little large—
Jameson (In the Company of Snipers Book 22) Page 2