Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  “Where’s the fucking EMT?” Jolynn shouted over her shoulder.

  “Liz!” he yelled, rushing forward.

  Jolynn grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him to face her.

  “She’s okay. Michael, she’s okay! It’s not her blood, it’s Ashford’s. She’s got balls. She stood up to the prick and when he pulled his gun, she blew him away. He’d already busted the door in when I got here, I was too Goddamn slow. But she had him. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her again. Carrie and I were on either side of the doorway. We both shot at the same time she did. We didn’t have a good angle because we were behind him and couldn’t fucking see her on the other side. She caught the blood spatter, but she’s okay.”

  He clambered onto the bed next to Lizzie and frantically pulled at her shirt, needing to see her unblemished skin for himself. “She’s okay?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Jo said.

  “Then what’s wrong with her and who’s the ambulance for?

  “Near as I can figure, she wasn’t expecting the recoil of the gun, and she was holding it close to her stomach. The kick hit her pretty hard. When she looked down, she was covered in blood. With the shock of shooting Ashford, it was all too much.”

  “Then why do you need the med techs in here?”

  Jo’s leg collapsed, and she tumbled fully onto the bed. “Only a flesh wound,” she murmured just before she passed out.

  *****

  Michael paced across his living room, reached the bookshelf, pivoted, and stalked back the way he’d come. He’d been at it for an hour, but neither Liz nor Jo had the heart to tell him to sit.

  “It’s been a month. Why the fuck won’t he talk to me?” he asked no one in particular.

  The women exchanged unhappy glances.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Jolynn said.

  “You don’t need to go. I’ll stop.”

  “No, you and Liz keep talking. Keep trying. I’ll call you later,” Jo said as she strode out the door.

  He watched her leave, admiring her healthy walk and pleased there’d been no lasting effect from the gunshot. It had been a little deeper than a flesh wound, but once it was cleaned and stitched she’d been on her way to a full recovery. If only Graeme’s injuries had been so superficial.

  Liz put her arms around his waist and hugged him. “He won’t talk to anyone, Michael. It’s not just you. You know that.

  “Your worrying isn’t doing either of you any good. We know he’s healing from the physical injuries, but sometimes the emotional and mental trauma take longer. He was tortured. He was seriously injured. It takes time to recover from something like that. We were lucky the Secretary stepped in and got him into the specialists with the VA. No one’s better for dealing with this type of trauma.”

  She’d said this all before. From the moment Graeme disappeared behind the emergency room doors, she and Michael had been shut out. With no legal standing , the hospital staff and administration refused to divulge any medical information, other than when they’d upgraded his status from critical to serious and again to stable.

  He’d finally hacked into the hospital records and discovered to his horror just how devastating the injuries had been. Ashford had nearly crippled him. The lack of circulation had done a real number on Graeme’s body, his left foot sustaining the worst injury. He’d come close to having it amputated. There’d been shallow cuts on his back and legs, and a deeper cut near his eye, which Michael suspected meant Ashford threatened to cut it out.

  Burns marked his feet and calves, and the investigators discovered Ashford had been working his way up Graeme’s body with the cattle prod. The only blessing in the medical and police reports he’d managed to acquire was there were no signs of sexual assault.

  He buried his face against Liz’s neck and breathed in the scent of her, pushing away the darkness that filled him at the thought of what had been done to Graeme. Life was precious, and he wouldn’t ever forget that again. He realized it was long past time for him to tell her how he felt.

  He cupped her face in his hands and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Liz. I love you.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and her smile waivered on her lips. “I love you, too, Michael.”

  *****

  Jo had learned a bit about hospitals over the last several weeks, especially about access. It wasn’t impossible to get past the nurse’s station, even in a well-secured ward. But the person you wanted to see could get help in a matter of minutes by pressing the call button. Especially in a ward designed to treat emotional trauma suffered by those who had been tortured. She didn’t want to risk getting kicked out before she’d said her piece.

  She knew the physical therapy department was another matter entirely. She pulled out the cane she’d needed for the first few days after her injury and used it to walk her way into the cavernous room filled with its own type of torture equipment. Physical therapy was all about moving beyond what was comfortable, pushing into the pain and emerging as victor.

  Her first goal was to locate the board with the schedule of therapists and patients, but she quickly changed her mind when she spotted Graeme on the other side of the room working a standard weightlifting machine by himself.

  She’d thought about how she should approach him and decided calm and quiet with a dose of concern was best. She would act as if he was a fellow survivor and pretend that he should be happy to see her.

  Graeme caught sight of her halfway across the room and watched as she came toward him. He didn’t want to talk to Jolynn; she reminded him of what he’d lost. He wondered what was with the cane, then decided it was only a prop. His was the real deal, and he didn’t know when— or if, he would ever be rid of it.

  He had nothing to say. It was why he’d refused all outside contact. He wasn’t going to be an object of pity or taken into their lives because of guilt. He’d read the newspaper reports once he’d been sufficiently healed. Enwright Security had saved the day again, he thought bitterly. Meanwhile, his house was gone, his job was gone, and he’d be collecting disability for a very long time. He stared and waited for her to speak first.

  “You selfish motherfucker!” She spit like an angry cat.

  His head whipped back as if she’d struck him. She’d missed the mark on calm and reassuring. If the look on her face as she approached was any indication, she’d decided he’d had enough coddling since he’d been here.

  “You’re sitting here feeling all sorry for yourself, feeling all smug and self-righteous, aren’t you? You think no one understands what you went through. That no one else understands what it feels like to lose it all.”

  She leaned forward and poked him in the chest. “Elizabeth was physically tortured by that monster for weeks, psychologically manipulated even longer. She shot him and was covered in his blood. She had to take a leave of absence and doesn’t know if her job will still be waiting. She lost her house, and she lost the one person she should have been able to count on to understand. She lost you!

  “I thought you were strong, I thought you were some big, brave lawman. Look around this room, Graeme. These men and women are fighting to get their lives back. You’re throwing yours away. You’re a fucking coward.”

  *****

  He’d come with her. It had taken some fancy talking with the doctor and a promise to return him by nightfall, but they’d done it. Now they were stopped in the driveway of Michael’s estate.

  “I don’t know what to say. What if they don’t want me here?” Graeme asked Jolynn.

  She swallowed her sigh. Her heart ached for Graeme, for all of them, but she knew this was the right thing to do. “Graeme, I believe they both love you. They don’t want you anywhere else except here with them. But if it’s a problem, call me. You have my number. Now go. I’ll be back for you.”

  It took him long time to unfold his long body from the front seat of her car. Her throat was tight as she watched him lean heavily on his cane and
limp slowly toward the door. He turned one last time to look at her, and she gave him a thumbs-up. He squared his shoulders, pressed the button for the bell, and waited. She watched until the door opened, and he was ushered inside.

  Chapter Eleven

  Graeme stood unobserved in the doorway and looked around, feeling small and out of place. The place was a genuine mansion. From the outside it had been impressive enough. It was tucked away behind electronic gates on the side of Mummy Mountain in northeast Phoenix. Jo said the compound was forty acres. He’d known Michael was rich but in a vague, detached way. This place would be worth more than twenty million, easy. Maybe thirty. Standing here brought home just how vastly different their backgrounds were.

  The woman who answered the door told him Michael was in the study, and she hadn’t acted like a maid. Since she was dressed for office work, Graeme took her to be some sort of assistant or secretary. He’d followed her through a giant foyer with Sedona red flagstone flooring and an impressive arrangement of flowers on a center table. A wood and stained glass chandelier glowed softly overhead.

  What the fuck was he doing here?

  When they stopped outside a pair of wooden doors, he’d prevented her from announcing him with a hand on her arm and a shake of his head. She left him then, standing there wondering at the lack of security. After all, she had no idea who he was, did she? He could have been there to rob the place. He would have to talk with Michael about that. Then with a brisk shake of the head, he remembered what he came for. To say good-bye.

  Jo was a good kid, but she had romantic notions about life, and it just wasn’t that way for most people. He hoped it worked out for Lizzie and Michael, he really did. But he had no illusions about himself. Not anymore.

  Jo had been right about that. He was a coward. He was afraid of never being normal again, of never finding the love he lost the night Ashford had ruined him. He still woke nearly every night in a cold sweat, nightmares haunting him, Ashford taunting him in his dreams. He dreamed of what Ashford had done to Lizzie, of him shooting at Michael. He dreamed of loss and pain. The power of one man to destroy so many lives was horrific.

  He quietly opened the door and looked inside, like a kid eyeing candy his parents would never buy. Lizzie was sitting with her feet tucked up under her hip on a low leather couch, idly turning pages of a magazine. Her dark auburn hair was tucked messily into a large clip, and she was wearing the shade of green that set off her eyes and made him want to fall into them. He noticed that although she turned the pages, her gaze never left Michael’s broad back as he stared out the window.

  Wavy black hair that was even longer now fell just below Michael’s shoulders. He wore tight-fitting jeans that hugged his ass and a black tee stretched across his shoulders and was in danger of splitting at the seams. His hands pressed to the window, as if he was looking for escape but blocked by the fragile glass. Suddenly his back stiffened, and his hands dropped to his sides.

  Michael turned slowly. His blue eyes seemed to blaze across the room, his gaze going straight to Graeme. Liz turned her head to see what had caught Michael’s attention, and her eyes went wide. For a long moment nobody said anything, nobody moved.

  Graeme broke the silence with a mumbled apology and turned to leave. He had no business being here. He should have called and told them he was fine and moving on. He should have stayed away, this was a big mistake.

  “Graeme, no,” Lizzie cried, and she rushed past him to try to prevent him from leaving. He was so pathetic he wasn’t even sure he could move her out of his way. He stumbled against his cane, leaning heavily on the curved grip.

  “Graeme, stop,” she said. “Come sit on the couch and tell me how you are. Oh, to hell with that.” She threw her arms around his waist and held on.

  *****

  Christ, Graeme was so thin, and he relied on that cane to keep himself upright. Michael felt helpless. He wanted to wrap Graeme up in his arms and hold him. But he wouldn’t. Not yet, not until Graeme was ready.

  He imagined Graeme’s emotions were in turmoil. He must have felt he’d lost everything. His home, his health, his job. Had he considered Liz and Michael his, too? Did he think he’d lost them?

  Michael watched as Graeme stiffly accepted Lizzie’s hug. Lizzie molded herself to him, tucked herself right into those arms they’d both missed. He saw the tears as she lifted her face up to Graeme’s. She placed her hands on his cheeks and met Graeme’s gaze unwaveringly while her thumbs caressed his face.

  “Oh, Graeme, thank God,” she said and then pulled him down for a gentle kiss. “Welcome home, my love,” she said.

  Graeme lifted his gaze from hers, his face a mask of pain. Slowly he raised his eyes and when their gazes locked, Michael could see the fear in his lover’s dark eyes.

  He crossed the room in four long strides and folded both Graeme and Lizzie into his arms.

  “Welcome home,” Michael echoed.

  *****

  Graeme buried his face in Michael’s neck as the tears overwhelmed him again. Home. What were they saying? They could never want him, now. He pulled back and turned his head, angrily wiping at the tears. He didn’t want their sympathy. He needed to leave.

  Michael’s arms wrapped around him again and pulled him close. “Graeme, look at me,” he said. Lizzie was standing next to him, and he could sense her gaze but, for the moment, she seemed content to let the men play this out.

  He didn’t want to meet Michael’s gaze, afraid of what he’d see. Afraid of the pity or horror at his condition.

  Michael gently cupped his face. “Graeme,” Michael repeated, then claimed him with a soul-stealing kiss. The first brush of lips quickly changed to a tangling of tongues, deep and searching. Heat flared between them and for the first time since he wakened in the hospital after surgery, he felt hope creep its way back into his heart.

  His head started to spin. A wave of vertigo made him lurch to the side, and he momentarily lost track of up and down. Michael wrapped a strong arm around his waist, led him to the couch, then sat beside him. Lizzie took the other side, and he was surrounded by the people he loved.

  *****

  Men could be so pigheaded. Liz watched as Graeme struggled with his feelings, fought, and lost. He was afraid they’d reject him. He probably felt as if he’d lost everything. Now it was up to Michael and her to show him just how wrong he was.

  Her insides melted when Michael held Graeme in his arms and kissed him. She knew just how devastating his kisses could be and when Graeme started to go over, Michael brought them all to the couch and put Graeme where he needed to be: in the center of their love.

  The air was tense, and the men didn’t seem to know what to say. They were probably struggling with sharing their feelings. Well, that was unnecessary. Any blind man could see they loved each other. They didn’t need declarations; they needed practical decisions made. She would bring them into the reality of getting through the afternoon, tomorrow could take care of itself.

  “Where’s your stuff, Graeme? We’ll get it unloaded and put in your room. This place is fantastic. When you’re ready I’ll give you a tour. Although I still get lost sometimes myself. And then of course there’s the mysterious wing Michael won’t let me see until you’re here. Wait until you see the gym. Perfect. What do you want for dinner? I’ll bet you’re sick of hospital food!”

  When she judged she’d talked long enough for them to regain their composure, she paused, waiting to see which one would break the silence first.

  “I can’t stay,” Graeme said. “The hospital only released me for the afternoon, on Jo’s word she’d bring me back. I didn’t want to come,” he added quietly. “I didn’t know why you’d want me here. I still don’t.”

  Michael took Graeme’s hand, Liz quickly grabbed the other, and their eyes met briefly. She gave him a small nod, meant as encouragement. He nodded back.

  “Graeme, you know how hard it was for me to trust my attraction for you, my attraction to both of yo
u.” And his gaze took her in as well. “You told Liz on the phone that you loved us both, and I felt…I don’t know…something, okay? I felt something. Shit, I’m a guy. We’re no good at this!” But he grinned, despite the words.

  His face suddenly sobered. “I knew then that I felt something very strong for both of you. I didn’t know if it was love, because I was still worried about so many parts of it. But I was waiting for you to get home. I knew I wanted to hold you, to taste you again.”

  Michael looked down for a moment, but Graeme took up the story before he could continue, “Then Ashford. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I was expecting the state police to stay involved, so I never even questioned the call.”

  “I should have had someone on you. I fucking know better. Goddamn it! That’s my job,” Michael said.

  “Okay, look, guys. Everyone wishes they’d made different choice. Bottom line is Barry was just wrong. He was sick,” Liz said. She could drown in the guilt if she let herself think about brining Ashford in their lives. She wouldn’t allow any of them, herself included go down that road.

  Michael reached across Graeme to touch her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know we’ll need to keep dealing with all of this, but you’re right. We don’t have to do it right now.”

  He looked at Graeme, then slid a hand along the bare skin of his arm. “What do we need to do to spring you?” he asked with a lopsided grin. “You will come home to us, won’t you?”

  *****

  It took four days to “spring” him. Michael secured the top physicians, physical therapists, and psychologists to put together a plan of continuing care for Graeme. He wanted him to have the very best of everything. The delay had given him enough time to finish another project. The one he’d been keeping secret. Now he could share with Liz and Graeme when they were all together tonight after dinner.