Coming Home: Book 2 The Wakefield Romance Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  "They are in debriefing, I can't just..."

  "I don't care!” I scream, closing my eyes and letting a few of the tears fall down my cheeks, wiping at them defiantly. "It's a family emergency. You need to go get Payne and Martinez, now please. I am Sailor Martinez's wife." I stand here, my legs shaking in urgency as the man looks me over, nodding his head in understanding and quickly walking off and disappearing.

  I pace the floor of that atrium, mindlessly rocking Marisol as I mutter prayers to myself begging the Lord to let Rhea live. He needs to let her live, He can't take her. She's not ready to go.

  What the hell is taking that officer so long? The building isn’t that big that is takes him this long to find them. What the fuck? Did he not get me screaming at him as urgent?

  Tears are streaming down my cheeks and I don't bother to wipe them away as I hear footfalls coming my way. My pacing stops as figures come around the corner at the far end of the hallway.

  "Rosa!” Reno yells, and I can see him break from the group of men headed my way. He wraps his arms around me and I sob into his shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asks, looking down to Marisol, and what should have been a sweet, tear filled moment is over shadowed by the fear for my friend.

  Seeing Chad come up behind him, I take a deep breath in. "Kendall called. Rhea's been shot."

  The shock rolls through the room, and I can now see that their entire SEAL team followed them, their faces all blank and brows furrowed. They are all immediately tense, their shoulders going back ever so slightly and I can feel the roll of stares directed at me.

  Chad steps up, his bright blue eyes boring a hole in my face. "What do you mean?” he almost whispers, and I can see the emotions thundering through him.

  His jaw is tight and his fists are balled. He is still in his desert camo. My heart is breaking for him. My heart is shattering for Rhea, praying that she is going to be okay. She has to be okay. In the short time I’ve come to know her, she’s become a piece of me. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friendship this strong. I don’t want to know what it will feel like to not have her; to not be able to call her or see her face.

  "I'm sorry, Chad, that's all Kendall said." I grab Reno's hand, squeezing it tight. "She said to get you, and to get to Southampton Memorial."

  A look of fear and understanding crosses over his face and the room explodes in yells and commands. I am pulled out of the room, following Reno and handing the keys to Chad's truck to Timmons. Hopefully the kid can drive fast enough and safe enough, to get us there.

  I feel like I'm in a bubble of silence, the conversations not concerning me, so I take the moment to pray as the men talk between each other. Buckling Marisol into her car seat, I bow my head in prayer.

  "Lord, please have mercy on Rhea. She's one of Your servants. Watch over her and keep her safe. Please Lord, don't take her."

  CHAPTER TWELVE:

  Chad

  Shot? No way. This has to be some sort of misunderstanding. Rosa must have misheard Kendall on the phone. There must have been some static. Then why is there this shadow creeping in over my heart as I slam the passenger door shut on my truck and Timmons cranks the engine to life?

  MP Jeeps appear seemingly out of nowhere and envelope us, sirens and lights flashing as we speed through the front gate, headed south. This is all just a fucking dream; not happening.

  I'm numb. I'm floating in some sort of hell. This is all a bad nightmare, right? Right. When I get there, she's going to be fine, smiling at me with our son in her arms. She'll tell me that I'm a dumbass for freaking out and she'll pull me in for a long, passion filled kiss that I need so much at this moment that my lips seem to be on fire just thinking of it.

  Turning just enough to see Rosa and Reno in the back seat, their daughter between them, I clear my throat; trying to shove away the knot that is growing. "What did Kendall say, exactly?" I say with more anger than I intend, and I see Rosa flinch just a tiny bit.

  "She asked where you were," she takes in a deep breath and I can see the tears running down her cheeks, dragging her mascara with them, "then she said to get you and get to Southampton, now. She cried that Rhea had been shot." Rosa broke off into a sob, and I can see Reno pull her face into his shoulder, brushing her hair back.

  We share a look that only two men, both with hurt running through their hearts, know. I can feel the sorrow flow through him, his slight nod telling me he’s fucking feeling the weight of it too, and I close my eyes, trying to keep the emotions in.

  I feel like I'm going to explode. I'm teetering between breaking out in uncontrollable sobs and just breaking something. I feel as if I want to send my fist through the windshield as the highway flies by, the lights of the MP Jeeps flashing off of the vehicles pulled over on the side of the road to let us by. I don't even feel that I'm repeatedly pounding my balled fist into my bent knee until Timmons yells at me.

  "Chief!" he yells and I throw my head to face him. I can see the fear roll through his eyes. It's the same look he gave me on the last mission. Gripping my right hand onto the door and my left on the center console, I lean back into the seat and try and collect my thoughts.

  Our last mission had been a spur of the moment, get in-get out, kind of thing, but it ended up being far from that. It was a tiny village, mostly shacks and rundown buildings, and it was the middle of the God damn night. The home we were infiltrating was small enough for all of us to go in at once, so leaning on the side of the building; we had all taken a collective breath.

  Reno and I feel it the most, because this was our last mission. We were all going home.

  French looked over his shoulder and nodded, so taking a flash grenade from my belt, I squeezed his arm, ready to go in. On his heels, watching his six, I pulled the pin and tossed the flash grenade as I hit the door jam; the explosion lighting up the interior of that hell hole.

  Women and children scattered. There weren't supposed to be any here. They bumped into us, their screams piercing the once silent night air, and we fan out, trying to take control of the quickly disintegrating situation. They were crying and I yelled out "Get Down", but they were too encased in fear, scrambling for the door. It was easy to see the fleeing bodies with my night vision and as the first gunshots whizzed by, I took cover with the nearest shambled piece of furniture.

  A pause in the firing brings me up and straight into the line of a rushing, screaming man, wielding a large K-Bar knife. I couldn't get my gun up in time as he smashed into the couch I was posted up behind, throwing both of us to the floor as my Team mates tried to take out the rest of the advancing opponents. The man grabbed me by the vest and tried to slash at my face before I grabbed his hand, disarming him and pinning him to the floor in one fluid movement.

  It was then that I thought I heard her. Her sweet voice, echoing through the smoke, and commotion; mixing with the shouts and scratchy orders from my Team coming over the radio. I made the mistake of looking around, taking my focus off of the struggling man below me, because I thought I heard her. But how could she have been there? But I heard it clear as day: my Rhea's voice, yelling my name.

  Then it was Reno's, telling me to watch out just as the man below me swiped at my face with another knife. Luckily, I leaned back and the blade scraped my cheek. French took the man out and his arm fell limp to the floor, the smaller knife clanging on the sparse wooden floorboards. It was barely more than a scratch, requiring only ten stitches, but even reaching up and touching it now, I know that I came close to death.

  Death.

  Rhea.

  I snap back to reality. How long had I been musing? We are getting off the highway and maybe five minutes from Southampton Memorial, which normally takes an hour to get to from Norfolk. This is the hospital at which Rhea is planning on delivering. Her doctor said it is a better bet than her office. Maybe that is why there are here, she is just in labor. She hasn't been shot, that's ridiculous. Who would shoot my Rhea?

  My chest feels like it’s going to implode as Timmons
whips my truck up to the Emergency entrance and I don't remember even pulling the door handle, let alone putting my feet on the pavement and running in through the automatic doors. Reno is on my heels and his hand on my shoulder makes me whip around.

  "Where do I go?” I utter.

  I feel like a child. Lost. Alone. Frightened. Hell, those don't even sum it up. Fuck.

  His firm grip on my elbow pulls me to a nurse’s desk, the portly woman behind peering at me over her glasses. "Griggs," I almost shout but rein it in, clearing my throat. "Rhea Griggs, where is she?"

  "Griggs?” the woman asks, and Reno replies as I frantically scan my eyes over the scene before me. There is a waiting room off to my left, but I don't see my friends. My mom. Oh God, my mom is probably a wreck right now. My heart starts to hammer harder. I can hear it in my ears and it drowns out everything.

  I follow Reno in a zombie-like state, weaving around doctors and nurses. "Where is she, Man?” I ask as he rounds a corner, his pace quick and determined.

  "She's still in the ER, the nurse wouldn't tell me anything, but she said that the people who had already arrived, asking about Rhea are in a waiting room down here." He points ahead of him and I can see the glass panels.

  My feet feel like lead, but they pick up their pace and I grip one of the edges to the doorway, swinging myself to a stop, staring directly into the face of my sobbing mother. "Momma," I say, and to my ears I sound like a wounded child. That's how I feel, and she shoots to her feet, wrapping her arms around my neck as I hug her familiar, petite form to me, trying to pull some hope from her.

  "Oh Chad," she cries and her face burrows into my shoulder, chipping away at that wall around my heart that I have built to stay strong. My mother's tears feel like sledgehammers to brick, making me feel ten years old again when my father died. It had been one of the two times I had seen my mother cry like this; with no abandon, no reservation. The other had been when Randy died.

  "Momma, where is she? What happened?” I ask frantically, looking around the room at all the sullen faces.

  Kendall’s brown eyes are rimmed in red, her face streaked with mascara and her shirt dotted with blood. Rhea's blood. Harlan has his arm around her and his face downturned, but I can see the tears dripping from his chin. Brad and Garth have their hands entwined and held between them, Brad wearing scrubs. Where are his clothes?

  Anger builds inside of me. Anger at the unknown.

  "Someone, tell me what happened, please?" I say loudly, pleading, and their faces all meet mine. My chest heaves in and out. Someone tell me this is all a God damn joke. Someone tell me this is all her idea, oh haha. Someone tell me! I'm crumbling here. She's my world, tell me where she is. I can feel the wall breaking. Slowly. Painfully.

  "Duke shot her." Kendall looks me right in the eye, wiping at the streaks on her cheek. "He shot her in the garage. One in the shoulder. One in the chest. One in her thigh." She points to the spots on her own body as she says the words, my gaze following the motion, then seeing her eyes glaze over, as if she is staring into a nightmare. She stops and Harlan pulls her closer, trying to soothe her hiccupping sobs.

  "Duke!?!" I demand, looking around the room and seeing them all nod lightly. "Why..." I start to ask, but the anger takes over and I let out a frustrated cry, grabbing my mother closer and hugging her tight, letting the sound turn into a grunt. "Where is she?" I grind out.

  Pushing back from my chest, my mom's blue eyes pierce me; hitting me in the heart and making my legs feel like Jell-O. No, I tell myself. I can't be weak now.

  "She's still in the OR; the doctor said he'd send someone out with some news when they have some." She wipes at her face with the back of her hand and I brush her hair back, tucking it back behind her ear. "Brad was with her in the helicopter, and they told me that if she has a chance at living, it's because of him." I follow her gaze over to the scrub clad man, sitting with his boyfriend and his face is downcast.

  If she has a chance? Is that what my mother just repeated to me? If?

  I let my mother sit back down, but I can't. My legs feel like they need to be somewhere. My heart wants to be with my Rhea. She can't die. She is too excited about being a mother, and a wife. Our son. He can't die, well, because he's not had the chance to live yet. I notice Timmons, Reno, Rosa, French and Black take seats among my mother and friends, but I can't join them. If I sit, I might fall apart.

  I pace. Back and forth, back and forth. Before I know it my boots have worn a bland patch into the shiny floor of this waiting room. My friends have shifted seats, dozed off, gone to get coffee and returned, all of them knowing better than to break me of my solitude.

  "Mr. Payne?"

  The voice swings me around to see Doctor Young, in full O.R. scrubs, standing at the doorway. Everyone stands as I rush over to her, my heart pumping the blood through my limbs at an alarming rate. "I'm Chad Payne. Is Rhea okay? What about our son? Is he.." She cut me off with putting her hand up, silencing my tirade of questions.

  "Rhea took two nine millimeter slugs to the torso and one severed her femoral artery in her right thigh." The doctor looks morose and my heart starts to drop to my knees. "The slug in her shoulder passed through, shattering her collar bone. The slug in her chest missed all major organs and arteries by mere centimeters. That one shattered her shoulder blade on exit." She rubs a hand over her face, removing the cap from her hair. I am frozen.

  "When she fell, she hit her head pretty hard. She's still in the operating room as they work on repairing her femoral and relieving the pressure on her brain." I nod. That's all I can do. I can't talk, even though my brain is trying to form words. They won't come.

  "We delivered your son via C-section, and he's in the NICU, getting checked out because his blood pressure was high due to the stress. It looks like you're just gonna have to give us a little more time and we'll send someone out with more news when we have it." She looks at me with an expectant gaze, and again, all I can do is nod.

  She takes her leave and I feel dizzy. I feel sick. I fall into the closest chair, feeling my mother's hand wrap into mine.

  Time? How much time? Must I sit here and wallow in my fears? Leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, I take in the room around me. We are the only ones in here, my mother, my friends and me. Taking a peek at the clock I see that it's after five. Sighing heavily, I rub my hands over my face.

  "You guys should go home," I say to the room, looking up to Reno and Rosa. "Go home, spend time together." Rosa is shaking her head frantically, hugging Marisol to her chest. "No, you guys, really," I look around at Kendall and Harlan, then to Brad and Garth, "go home. I'll call you if anything changes."

  "I'm not goin' any fuckin'-where,” Kendall forces out, ending it in a hiccupping sob that sounds like it hurts. Everyone else nods their heads, even Timmons, French, and Black, and I give up the fight.

  My legs start to shake and I stand to pace again. My mother, Rosa and Kendall huddle together with their hands grasped, issuing prayer after prayer as Harlan talks with my Team mates over the sports channel on the TV in the corner. They are trying to seem normal. I can tell by the tightness in French's shoulders.

  I just pace, trying not to let the anger and desperation seep out too much as the minutes turn into an hour, then an hour and a half. Brad and Garth leave, bringing back food for everyone but I can't eat.

  Where are the doctors? Where is my Rhea? Where is our son?

  "Son," my mother's broken voice pulls me to a slower pace in my musing and I turn to see her holding a sandwich out to me. I shake my head, turning my gaze to the hallway and the meandering nurses and doctors, all passing without coming in with the news I desperately need. "You’re not gonna be any good to Rhea if you’re weak from not eatin'. Sit your ass down and have a sandwich."

  She tries to give me a genuine smile, but it is edged with sorrow, hidden in her eyes. Taking the wax paper wrapped sandwich, I plant myself in the seat next to her, directly facing the doorway so I can see if any
one is approaching.

  Everyone is in comfortable conversation as I try to choke down the turkey on wheat, stacked with veggies and mayo. Just the way I normally would love it, but my taste buds and stomach won't have any of it. I don't even taste it as the lettuce crunches and my jaw feels heavy as I try to process it. My mother pats me on the shoulder, and I give her half a smile, turning my gaze to the hallway, wishing someone would appear with good news.

  Down at the end of the hallway, where Reno and I had come in, the object of all this pain, all this hurt, stands between two Troopers. I don't realize that I’ve dropped my sandwich to the seat next to me, or launched myself from the room, because all I can feel is the hatred coursing through my limbs. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, and I ignore the yells from my friends and mother as I run down the hallway, pushing past nurses and patients, trying not to knock anyone over.

  I’m locked in on you, mother fucker, is all I can think as my fists clench at my sides. One of the male nurses yells at me to stop, but I just breeze right past that ass hole; my eyes still zoomed in on the redneck piece of shit.

  I am within a few feet of Duke, his battered face glaring at me. I can see the large bandage above his eye and as I'm tackled from behind. I scream at him, "I'm gonna kill you!" because it’s the only thing that I want to do.

  Right now, my anger is taking precedent and I want to rip him limb, from limb. I want to pound his face in with my fists until it’s nothing but a bloody mess and I hear the last gurgles of his breath. Struggling against Timmons who has ahold of my arms, I push him up so that we're standing and then French pulls me to the wall as I'm yelling almost incoherent swears at the grinning Duke Orr.

  He's grinning!?! It makes my heart pump faster, and I strain as hard as I can against my friends to get loose and beat that mother fucker to a pulp. The Troopers are pulling him toward the exit, and he's kicking and pulling to get away from them. Hell yeah, come here so I can give you what you deserve, you stupid fuck.