DAVID: A Standalone Romance (Gray Wolf Security)

by Glenna Sinclair

“Yeah, I get a lot of patients like that in here. I also get a lot who go the other way.”

  “Any in between?”

  “Not many. Seems like everyone responds to a change in circumstances with one extreme or the other.”

  “‘Change in circumstances.’ That’s a nice way of putting it.”

  She shrugged. “Everyone has their own way of addressing it. That’s mine.”

  She rolled me out of the room and back down the hall to the examination room where Ash was waiting, leaning against the wall with a magazine in his hands. He always seemed to be leaning against something, never really willing to completely relax lest something go wrong and he not be ready. Sometimes when I looked at him, I wondered what it was like to never truly feel safe.

  “The doctor should be by in a bit.”

  The technician left with a flash of a smile for Ash. Most women seem to find my brother attractive. I’ve seen that little smile more often than not when we go out together—something we haven’t really done in years, obviously. But it was still there, that smile. But he never responded, never showed interest in the women. I knew he’d loved Alexi. I never met her in person, but we spoke numerous times over Skype whenever they were able to sneak a little time out together. She was beautiful and—the way he talked about her—she was also generous of spirit and intensely charming. I knew it killed him when she disappeared over there; I knew he blamed himself since he was the military guy, the Special Forces expert. But she was CIA. She probably knew more about protecting herself than he ever could have imagined.

  Determined to spend a lifetime in the military, losing Alexi had changed everything for Ash. He sought a discharge after that, returning to the United States a broken man. He wouldn’t stay in one place for long, always moving, always chasing leads no matter how small they were. He didn’t think I knew, but I knew he still studied the file he’d compiled on her, still trying to find any lead. He even hunted them down when the leads came in. But they were few and far between these days.

  The last time had been more than six months ago, and he came back silent and moody. I didn’t have to ask to know it hadn’t panned out.

  He wanted me to get the surgery to fix my back, but he wouldn’t move on from a fiancée who was clearly dead. It’d been three years.

  “I could get her number for you,” I said.

  Ash looked up, reaching to snag my jeans even as I reached for them.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The technician,” I said, snatching my clothes from his outstretched hand and tugging my jeans on over my ankles. “She was flirting with you.”

  “Was she? I didn’t notice.”

  “You never notice. But they always do.”

  Ash set his magazine down and came over to lift me a few inches out of my chair so I could pull my jeans over my hips. I didn’t need his help. He knew I didn’t need his help. But I was tired and not in the mood to argue. Not about that, anyway.

  “You should go out on a date. See what it’s like.”

  “Look who’s talking. When’s the last time you went out, brother?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Oh, yeah, that would be forever ago.”

  “I don’t get into cars,” I said despite the obvious fact that I’d gotten into a car to come here today. “That’s a little bit of a hinder to dating, I think.”

  “You could fix that.”

  “And you have no issue with driving or traveling, even. Why not go out with some beautiful girl? Have a little fun for once.”

  “No time,” he said, stepping back against the wall.

  “Bullshit.”

  Ash’s eyebrows rose. “If Mom could hear that mouth of yours…”

  I tugged my shirt on over my head, choosing not to acknowledge him.

  The doctor walked in a second later, glancing from Ash to me and back again.

  “Well, David, I can’t tell you how pleased I was to hear that you’d finally agreed to come in for an MRI. The last MRI we had on file was from six months after the accident, taken just a few days before you were released from the hospital, as I’m sure you recall.”

  “I do.”

  “This one should give us a great deal of information that the others were just too soon to reveal.” He walked over the computer hanging off of a small platform anchored to the wall. He used his ID card to sign in and quickly worked his way through a collection of screens before finally pausing to study what had appeared on the screen in front of him. I had no clue what it was he was looking at. To me, it simply looked like a bunch of shapes and shadows, but he must have seen more because he was making noises with his tongue that didn’t sound as pleased as he’d been seconds ago.

  “As you can see,” he finally said, stepping back so that Ash and I could see the screen clearly, using his pen as a pointing device, “these are the fragments we discovered in the MRIs taken after your last surgery.” The low click of his pen hitting the screen filled the room with a definitive pop. “Now, on the MRI we just had done, you can see that tissue has begun to grow up around the fragments.”

  “Is that a problem?” Ash asked.

  “It makes the removal of the fragments more complicated. And it brings into concern the impact removing them might have on the scar tissue that already exists.”

  The doctor turned to face the two of us, focusing on my face.

  “As I explained two years ago, your spinal cord is intact. However, there is significant inflammation around it that is keeping it from transmitting signals from your brain to your legs. Removing the bone fragments should significantly reduce that inflammation because they are pressing on tissues along your spinal cord and irritating it, likely causing most of the inflammation themselves. If we had removed them two years ago, you likely would be walking at ninety percent function.”

  “And if you operate now?”

  The doctor glanced at Ash before focusing on me again. “We can’t really know until we get in there and see how much scar tissue there is, but I feel secure in saying that there will be anywhere from fifty to eighty percent function.”

  Ash shot me a look that said, Ha! Told you so!

  “And what are the chances you’ll go in there and inadvertently damage the spinal cord? What are the chances I’ll come out of this with less function than I have now?”

  The doctor again looked at Ash before answering. “With any surgery that close to the spinal cord, there is a risk.”

  “How big of a risk?”

  “Sixty percent in a surgery like this one.”

  I nodded slowly. “So I have a sixty percent chance of becoming permanently paralyzed from the waist down with the surgery, or I could do nothing and at least keep control over my bowels.”

  “David,” Ash said, warning in his voice.

  “Everyone knows what you would do, Ash,” I said. “But I’m not you. I’ve never been you. I don’t take chances when the outcome is so incredibly risky.”

  “But you could walk again,” the doctor said.

  “But I could be in this chair for life.” I shook my head. “Since I’m already here, I think I’d rather just keep things the way they are.”

  Ash pushed away from the wall and started to pace, his hands balled into fists at his side.

  “Well, David,” the doctor said slowly, “as always, the choice is yours. But you should know that with the rate of growth around these bone fragments, I’d guess you have less than two months to decide. After that, the tissue growth will be too great to make the surgery viable.”

  “Then the decision is made. Sorry to waste your time, doc.”

  I rolled past them both, Ash and the doctor, and left them to feel the defeat of their plan in private.

  Chapter 10

  At the Compound

  Rose watched Donovan pace. She watched Kirkland sit on the edge of a couch’s armrest, flipping through a magazine he probably wasn’t reading. And she watched Joss methodically wax her surfboard where it was propped against
her desk despite the number of times Ash had asked her not to do that in the office.

  They didn’t think they were a family. But they were.

  “Has Ash…?” Donovan asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Joss set down her rag and walked over to Donovan, holding out her arms to him. He gave her a hug, lifting her off the ground until she opened her mouth in a silent scream and slapped his shoulders. He put her back down, then pinched her cheek like Rose had seen her son do to his younger sister too many times to count.

  Joss stuck her tongue out to him, then returned to her surfboard as if nothing had happened.

  They’d all gotten word of David’s trip to the doctor. Rose had no idea how, but she got the impression that they were burning up the text-messaging feature on their phones. Joss and Donovan even came in from the field to be here when David got home. That was loyalty if you asked Rose.

  Kirkland heard them drive up first. He put down his magazine and made a beeline for the door, moving with that grace that was particular to him. Donovan spotted his move and jumped out in front of him, reaching the front doors before Kirkland could. And Joss, in her silent elegance, followed quietly behind.

  No, they were nothing like a family.

  Ash was moving around the car to help David out, as they all came rushing out the door. Rose could see him from where she was standing in the doorway—she was curious too—and she was probably the first to see the slow shake of his head.

  David had voted against surgery. Again.

  It was worth a try. But Rose could see the disappointment in all of them as their shoulders sloped and their eyes became downcast. But, much to their credit, they all greeted him with cheerful whoops and hollers, congratulating him on his first trip out to the field. David even blushed as Donovan and Kirkland lifted him out of the car and carried him between their shoulders like he was a successful athlete come home after the Olympics.

  “Get back to work, people! What do I pay you for?” Ash called. But Rose could see the gratefulness in his eyes.

  Most of these people had no family, or family that didn’t matter. They were lost souls. But they’d come together here under the guise of building a business together and they’d become more.

  Rose was honored to be a part of it.

  Chapter 11

  David

  Joss’ target was asleep, snuggled in bed like a child. Joss herself was checking the perimeter of the house, walking deceptively casual, as though she were a normal twenty-something taking a stroll before bed. When she slipped back into the house, she sent me a text.

  Everything quiet.

  Good, I responded. Try to get some rest.

  She looked up at the camera she knew was barely perceptible in the high corner of the living room and gave it a thumbs-up. I loved it when they did that because I knew they were talking directly to me. It was as if they were Inspector Gadget and I was the niece, Penny. I was the one who actually did all the hard work. They were just the bodies out in the field.

  I knew that was a bad analogy, but I liked it. It made all these hours of staring at these video feeds feel more important.

  I ran another check of all the cameras, then set the alarm so that my phone would buzz if anything happened. I was exhausted and I’d been in the same clothes for forty-eight hours now. Time to go to my tiny cottage.

  I rolled myself to the front doors and slid down the ramp Ash had professionally installed shortly after he bought the place, landing on the rocky path that would take me to my cottage. I could see the lights on in Kirkland’s cottage and found myself wondering who he was entertaining tonight. Both Joss and Donovan’s cottages were dark. I knew Donovan was probably with Kate tonight. I almost envied him. To have someone welcome you into their bed so warmly each and every night…must be nice.

  “Hey, David!”

  Bobby, one of several men Ash employed to watch the grounds twenty-four seven called to me from his patrol cart. I waved back, pretending to be cheerful and not totally annoyed that he just frightened me out of my reverie.

  My cottage was the closest to the main house. The floor plan was similar to the others: a decent-sized living room, a gallery kitchen, and a bedroom with en suite bathroom. Only mine had been modified to allow more space in the kitchen and for the walk-through shower that allowed me to use a specially designed chair to independently shower.

  I went directly to the bathroom and undressed, maneuvering my legs this way and that as I struggled to get out of my jeans in a sitting position. There were times when I wished I could wear something simpler, something that didn’t require nearly falling out of my chair just to get the heavy denim over my hips. I was glad there was no one there to watch my ungraceful twists and turns.

  Once naked, I transferred myself to the other chair and rolled into the shower, flipping on the water and moving just out of reach of the spray until it was good and hot. The water felt amazing as it washed over me. I closed my eyes and tried not to think, but that was like asking a man who’d just walked a thousand miles in the desert not to drink the water offered him.

  Getting into the car the second and third time wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined it would be. It was still difficult, watching the world come hurtling at me and knowing there was nothing I could do if there was a sudden accident. Maybe that’s what it was about getting into cars. Maybe I needed to be in control. But, again, I’d been in control the night my parents died and look where that got me.

  That night should have been one of those that I remembered fondly all my life. It was just my parents and myself in the hotel suite most of the night, talking about the past, about early campaigns in my father’s career with which my brother and I had done what we could to help. One of my earliest memories was of helping my mother stuff envelopes with campaign brochures that praised my father’s best qualities as a potential state senator. My childhood—and Ash’s—revolved around our father’s career…and that sounds like it would have become tedious or felt overwhelming. But it wasn’t. We were a close family. There was never any resentment.

  But then that night.

  My father had been convinced that the bid for Congress was overreaching. He felt as if he was such a local persona that people outside of Austin would not vote for him. He was wrong. He won the election with more than fifty-eight percent of the vote. That’s why the champagne came out in cases rather than bottles. And why my father was so very drunk when we finally left the hotel. He almost never drank that much. And that was why I was driving.

  I’ve played that moment over and over in my mind. Two years, seven months, and two weeks. Every night. Every morning. Every time I stopped to take a break during my day. Constantly. And every time I thought about it, I picked and picked at that moment, at the moment when I knew everything had gone out of control. I thought about the things I could have done differently and how I could have changed the outcome. They say that hindsight is fifty-fifty. Mine certainly was.

  So many regrets.

  I understood why Ash was pushing the surgery so hard. I could see it from his point of view. If it was Ash in my position, I would be pushing him, too. But he didn’t understand how heavy the weight of the guilt was on my shoulders. He didn’t understand that as much as I would like to get out of this chair the guilt just made my stomach turn when I thought about walking again, walking away from an accident that took my parents’ lives. I couldn’t handle the idea of living a full life when they couldn’t. It just didn’t seem right.

  My father could have made a difference in Congress. He could have gone on to something bigger and better. Hell, for all I know, he could have been president one day. Because of one second, one action, all that was taken away.

  Did I really deserve to walk when I was responsible for that?

  Fuck, I was tired!

  I turned off the water and grabbed a towel, drying myself as best as I could. Then I moved over to my regular chair and made my way to the bedroom, digging through the low
drawers of the dresser for some clean clothes. I wasn’t even done picking out a pair of boxers when someone rang my doorbell.

  “What the hell?”

  I grabbed my towel and tucked it around my lap, assuming it was Ash making sure I hadn’t done anything stupid in the aftermath of the visit to the doctor. My phone was quiet, so it wasn’t Joss or any of our other ongoing cases. Had to be Ash. No one else bothered to come see me at my cottage.

  I rolled into the living room and snatched the door, my irritation already on display.

  “You can stop playing nursemaid,” I said.

  “Good. I was never good at that sort of thing.”

  Ricki. Ricki Dennison was leaning against my doorframe, watching me with a flirty little smile.

  “What are you doing here? How did you even—?”

  “Some guy named Bobby. I told him I was your girlfriend. I hope that’s okay.”

  She brushed past me and walked into my cottage, wandering around the living room as if she had every right to be there. She paused in front of the far wall where Rose helped me hang a few pictures of my family, including some pictures of Ash and I when we were kids. She touched one of those with the tip of her finger.

  “I never would have guessed he was a scrawny kid.”

  “Hard to see it now,” I agreed.

  I pushed the door closed and wheeled myself into the center of the room.

  “What are you doing here, Ricki? Is there something wrong?”

  “No.” She turned to face me. “I just figured we started something last night that I’d like to continue to explore.”

  “Is that right?”

  I felt like I was saying all the wrong things. Was I really that far out of practice?

  “We had fun,” she said. “We found something in each other that we haven’t been getting from anyone else. I don’t see why we shouldn’t continue to explore that.”

  “Very clinical.”

  She shrugged. “Who said sex always has to be romantic?” She tugged at the blouse she was wearing, pulling it out from under the waistband of her skirt. “The bedroom back here?” she asked, gesturing toward the open bedroom door.