by M. K. Gilher
His face hardens.
"I was trying to get the whale's attention and it worked. He's gone." I keep my voice low. It's sketchy to discuss this here, but I need to curtail his self-flagellation. "Now, have you received medical attention?"
"Yes. Just a concussion."
"Good."
"Can I get you anything?"
"I need a watch. A phone. Some clothes. She'll need clothes too…" if she makes it. She will make it.
I turn and walk away. Gotta keep moving. "Wait. One more thing." I stop and pivot to face him again. "Get a new armored vehicle, with a fucking M-16 mounted on the roof."
***
Jacade
Two hours later, I've abandoned my aimless pacing of halls and returned to hexing the operating room doors. Jett emerges with his head down. I step toward him, my fists clenched. He pulls off his navy-blue scrub cap and raises his gaze to mine.
His weary eyes reveal nothing. "We need to talk." He points in the direction of the surgical waiting room. "This way."
I follow him to the empty room and take a seat across from him in one of the leather armchairs. He rests his elbows on his knees and stretches the cap between his hands. I can't deal with this. If she's gone… No. No way in hell. She can't be.
"I'm not sure how to go about this." He strokes his hand through his hair.
"Is she…" I choke on my words. "Did she…"
He lowers his chin and stares at me. "I promised you I'd take care of her, didn't I? Ivy would not die on my watch. Kelch and I made a critical decision in there."
I swallow the tumbleweed in my throat. He wraps and unwraps the drawstrings of his scrubs around his fingers.
"Trip, I need you to think like a physician right now. Not as a man whose woman was dancing with St. Peter a few hours ago. All right?"
How the hell do I do that? Ivy is my life. I became a doctor to be with her. Still, I tilt my head for him to continue.
"The bullet ruptured her uterus. We had to do a total hysterectomy to stem the bleeding. Fragments were embedded in her ovaries. We took those too."
"Okay… but she's stable?"
"Yes."
Why is he being so theatrical? She's alive. I sit back in the chair and stare at him.
"She's in recovery, but we're not out of the woods yet."
"She survived," I whisper. My body is bruised and spent, but the only reason for my existence still breathes.
He moves to sit in the chair next to me. "You do get that Ivy can never have children?"
"I get it. I just don't care."
"She will care."
She will care.
Oh god.
I get it.
Grime sticks under my fingernails as I scrape my head in frustration.
Fuck, I'm a selfish prick. What's wrong with me? I didn't even consider her feelings.
She'll never carry a child because she came to liberate me, the man who can't be saved. I've taken that future from her.
"I understand," I mutter.
Shit.
"We'll let you decide when to tell Ivy. She may need to talk to someone. Kelch's wife is a psychiatrist. She'll be available, and she's trustworthy."
I close my eyes. The room spins out of control.
"I'm going check on her. I'll be back." Jett rises and pats me on the shoulder before he leaves the room.
I hold my head in my hands and stare a hole in the floor.
A sun of blood stains Delia's seat.
Her limp body thunks onto the metal table.
Viktor smacks her.
Argh! I yank my hair but it doesn't dislodge the images or the guilt.
A duffel bag drops near my feet.
"What time is it?" I look up and rub my eyes. Pain flares in my swollen right cheek.
"Early." Jett props his feet on the chair next to mine and tosses a pair of scrubs on my lap. "Go clean yourself up."
"No. I want to be here if she needs me."
"I'm not letting you near her without a shower. One touch and you'll give her some incurable infection."
He rests his neck on the back of the chair and links his fingers over his torso. "I'll wait."
I glance down at the detritus of an apocalypse on my clothes. Shit, he's spot-on. Infection is her greatest risk right now, and I'm a walking petri dish. In the locker room, I peel off my shirt and wince as the fabric tears away the blood caked to my cuts. Bracing one hand on the wall, I watch the reddish brown muck of this nightmare circle the drain and disappear. Fresh blood permeates the clean scrub shirt as I dress. In the waiting area, Jett stops scrolling through his phone and sets it on the chair to his right.
"Okay, little brother, let's get you fixed up. She can't wake up to you looking like this."
"Yeah, they did a number on me." The mirror in the locker room wasn't merciful. Huge laceration on my lip, jagged cuts in my pec, aggravated puncture wounds on my arm and foot.
He sighs and pulls out his suture kit, alcohol, and gauze. I sit on the edge of my chair as he slips on rubber gloves. He applies alcohol and a butterfly bandage to the cut on my lip.
"So, she went in there by herself to get her man back? Guns a blazin'?" He raises one eyebrow. "That's some Sarah Connor shit right there." He laughs at his own joke. He's punch-drunk after a long night.
"Yeah, it's downright heroic." I glare at him. "Do not make light of the situation, Jett." I have no patience for his bullshit right now.
He narrows his eyes. "Take off your shirt. Let's see the damage."
I reach behind my neck to pull the scrub top off. He scrunches his forehead and squints at the blood seeping from the rudimentary letter I carved into my chest. Yeah, not so funny now, is it, big brother?
"Do you want me to numb it first?"
I scowl at him. He can be so damn obtuse sometimes. "In all the years you've been fixing my wounds, have I ever asked for anesthetic?"
He purses his lips and gets to work. I grit my teeth as he stitches my chest with his steady hand. The pain is nothing compared to Viktor's pocketknife piercing my skin. God, I enjoyed filling that asshole with lead. Wish I had ten more guns I could've unloaded into him.
"Are you sure you don't want Bernard to do this? He's a plastic surgeon, ya know."
Shut the fuck up, Jett. "No. I'm keeping the scar." He looks up at me. "And I'll speak to you about him later."
He tapes a large gauze bandage over my pec and moves to the staple holes put in my deltoid by Trey. Slicing that bastard's neck was fun too. You fuck with Trip, you pay the price.
"I was coming for you." He doesn't glance up from applying alcohol to my arm.
"Oh, you mean the girls in the background weren't riding your cock?" I heard them when I called.
He shakes his head. "Lindsey and Lizzie. Decoys for the extraction. We were coming in hot and bringing you home."
Of course he was working with Shane. I shouldn't have doubted him. Using women to distract Viktor was a good plan. They just didn't have time to execute it.
"What else?" he says with determination as he finishes with the bandage on my arm and scans my body.
I point to my left foot. Jett picks up my ankle and examines the puncture wounds in my sole. He diligently cleans and wraps it with gauze.
"So, did you get him?"
Careful, Jett. Not here.
"Yeah, he's taken care of." Ivy nailed his face, and I finished the fucker off.
"Any others?"
"Three. Kara was one of them." His eyes widen. "Two of his men."
"I'll send a fixer," he says.
Fuck, Jett. Always so eager to jump in.
I shake my head. "No. Let them take care of it." This is on Boothby and his crew. It's Viktor's mess. Jett's not getting his hands dirty.
He finishes his ministrations and stands. "We'll talk more later. Right now, you need some x-rays and IV antibiotics." He packs his bag and tosses the trash.
"I can't think about myself." I hang my head. "How the hell do I tell her
she'll never have kids because of me?"
He stands and slings the bag over his shoulder. "You'll find a way." His eyebrows rise, and he holds up a finger. He checks his pager on his belt. "She's awake."
I grab the top to my scrubs and burst out of the room.
"Room 116!" he calls after me.
Got it.
I'm already there.
***
Ivy
Iridescent fairy dust shimmers on the walls of the tunnel. A warm breeze blows my hair from my face. The billowing cloud I'm sitting on floats to the right and then bounces to a stop.
"Hang on, darlin'." Jude's smooth drawl calls to me.
Jude! Is Jacade here? Is he all right?
"She's stable. Excellent work, Kelch."
"Thanks, Ellis. Glad she pulled through. It's good you called me." A deep male voice answers Jude.
"Thanks for getting here so fast."
Getting where so fast?
"Anytime."
Their voices cease and footsteps fade into the distance. Where'd they go? Hey, guys. Come back! I need to get to Jacade. Please, take me to him.
Nothing.
I curl up on my cloud and wait to see which way the wind takes me.
***
Ivy
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
My eyes flicker open to the fluorescence of blurry, rectangular ceiling lights. A couple of blinks, and a clock on the wall comes into focus. Five o'clock. Not sure if it's morning or evening. I reach for my face, but a mask covers my mouth and nose.
A blonde nurse stares at me. "Are you waking up?" She grabs her phone and types out a message.
I'm in a hospital gown with an IV in my wrist. A brunette nurse enters the room and fusses with equipment in the corner. I try to wiggle my toes, but my body doesn't respond. Oh no, am I paralyzed?
The brunette nurse runs a thermometer across my forehead and checks the reading. She glances at my door. She does a double take, and her eyes widen.
Jacade screeches to a stop in the doorway, his bare chest heaving. He holds a shirt in his hands and grips the doorframe. His tattoos bulge on his mighty biceps. The tantalizing V of his navel disappears into low-riding avocado scrub pants. His jet-black hair is wet and slicked back. A thick beard covers his strong jaw. My heart stutters. He's like a quarterback exiting the tunnel before the Super Bowl.
The nurses move away and watch me from their station next to the sink. Shane and Jude fill in the minimal remaining space in the entry and peer beyond Jacade into my room. I've got quite the crowd of spectators trying to catch a glimpse at kickoff. I take a breath to speak but cough instead.
Jacade darts to my bedside and lifts the oxygen mask from my face. "Take it easy, sweetheart."
The tender voice from this bear of a man wraps my heart in a warm embrace.
Rough sandpaper coats my mouth. "Water," I croak out.
He pours a cup and raises my head to help me take a sip. The liquid quenches the unbearable thirst in my throat.
He takes my hand in his. "Welcome back, Ivy." His voice breaks with the same words he uttered three years ago when he rescued me from the spine-chilling tunnel.
I'm back. He's back.
I squeeze his hand and close my eyes. Thank you, God, for blotting out my name from the grim reaper's guest list not once, but twice. Thank you for returning me to him.
"Can't move my legs."
"Anesthesia. It'll wear off soon. You're gonna be fine."
He has bandages on his lip, his arm, his chest. "You're injured."
"It'll heal." His warm fingertips sweep a lock of hair from my face.
"Shane?"
"He's hell-bent on staying by that door," he says, tilting his head to the doorway.
"No, he needs to recover too."
"Look at you, lying in the hospital with a gunshot wound—stunning as ever—yet worrying about everyone else."
The nurses whisper and gawk with open mouths at Jacade's ripped physique, his panther tattoo on full display for them. The blonde crosses her arms and presses one hand to her chest.
Avert your eyes, ladies. He's mine.
I tug his hand to draw him closer to me. He bends at the waist, and his eyes search mine. "What do you need, baby?"
"Have mercy on their souls and put a damn shirt on." I cough and point to the nurses behind him.
He looks down and chuckles.
"On it," Jude says as he ushers them out of the room. "Either of you ladies wanna go home with me and watch porn in my mirror?"
The door closes behind Jude, and Jacade shakes his head. "Only Jude could pick up a woman with that line."
When he touches his lips to mine, his bandage brushes my cracked, dry mouth. My eyes squeeze shut to stave off threatening tears. His heart beats, his lungs breathe. My strong, confident man is by my side again. He cups my jaw in his palms and opens his lips, our warm breaths mingling in the tiny space. I tilt my head into the kiss.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
He pulls away and rests his forehead on mine as we chuckle at the monitors giving me away.
"Lie next to me."
He frowns. "Not a good idea. You're too fragile."
"Please."
He sighs, and the corner of his mouth turns up. "Not fair. You're all too aware I won't deny you anything right now, and I'm desperate to hold you. Still want me to put my shirt on?" He raises his scrub top.
"No way."
I watch his muscles undulate as he swaggers like a king to the other side of my bed. He moves with such grace and stature even though he's been through hell.
He repositions me to the side and slides his mammoth body beside me. The stiff white sheet shifts against the plastic mattress. He slips his right arm behind my head, and I relax into my new pillow. He lies on his side and entwines my right hand with his left.
I tuck my nose into the furnace of his chest, careful not to nudge his bandage, and inhale the woodsy, earthy scent of him. His thumb traces lazy shapes in my palm.
Over then under. Over then under.
"Are we safe?" A foggy mosaic of blood and bodies swims in my head.
"Shh, yes. You're out of danger." He swallows and speaks softly over my head. "I'm so sorry, Ivy. All this time… All I desired was to keep this from touching you." The stubble on his chin crunches in my hair by my ear. "You shouldn't have gone to the farmhouse."
"I couldn't lose you. I'd do it again."
"That's insane."
"Well, I'm crazy in love with you."
His sigh feathers across my cheek. "I'm crazy in love with you too."
He traces figure-eights on my flesh, gently lulling me into contented unconsciousness.
Chapter 2
Ivy
I'm trapped.
My back hits the cement wall. Viktor's feet drag on the floor as he stalks me in the musky, burning depths of his basement from hell. His vacant eyes focus on me as he clutches a butcher knife over his head. My hand scrapes the cold wall in search of a weapon.
His arm swings down.
Slice.
My eyes fly open.
Jacade grips Jude's arm above our heads.
"Don't sneak up on me like that," Jacade warns.
Jude wrenches free and shakes out his arm. "I came to tell you Ivy has visitors, jackass."
Jacade grumbles and gets up from his place next to me on the bed. He kisses my cheek and stares into my eyes. His thick, dark eyelashes form a smoky kohl rim that makes the indigo in his irises gleam a vibrant electric blue. "Morning, love." His husky voice caresses my ears.
"Morning." I skim his face with my fingertips. Thank goodness the swelling has gone down around his eye, but I'm not happy to see the angry purple bruises on his cheek. What did Viktor do to him? He pulls on his shirt and walks out into the hall.
A sharp poke above my knee startles me. "Ow!" I frown at Jude.
"Did that hurt?" He's smiling at me.
"Yes."
He chuckles and writes on my
chart.
Glad you find this funny, Jude.
My toes wiggle when I ask them to. Good. But, ugh, raising my head creates a burn in my stomach that flares into a wheel of pain. I drop back onto the pillow.
"How long was I out?"
"Two years." Jude grips the bed railing and winks at me. "Nah, almost twenty-four hours since you first came out of anesthesia. It's Sunday morning. You needed the sleep."
"I did."
"Doctor's always right." He grins and strides out the door. His firm ass catches my eye. Damn, the DNA mixed well in that family.
Shane glances at me as Jude exits. I wave him in.
"Did you need something, Ms. Summers?"
"Shane, call me Ivy." I'm sure he won't, but it's worth a try. "Last I heard, you were unconscious. How are you?"
"Fine. Back in service."
I smile at him, but his jaw remains tight.
"If you need more time to recover, I'm in good hands. You don't have to stay here."
He lowers his face and pins me with his gaze. "Ms. Summers, with all due respect, I'm not leaving that door until you do."
Okay—dropping that subject. I've gone head-to-head with him enough times to know he won't budge.
"Well, then. Thank you for this and for," I fold the blanket over my hips, "watching out for me."
His lips twitch as he turns away. "My pleasure," he mutters and returns to his post.
In the hallway beyond him, Aunt Helen and Bryn bounce and wave. Jacade motions for them to follow him in. He walks to the window and tips a blind to the side to peer out. Aunt Helen rushes to my side.
As Bryn passes Shane, she bites her lip and skims her hand over his abdomen. Shane sucks in a deep breath, his face stony. She slouches as she stands beside Aunt Helen.
I widen my eyes at her and raise my brows with a tilt of my head toward Shane. She scrunches her brow like she doesn't get my question. I make my eyes huge, exaggerating my head bob toward Shane. I must look ridiculous lying in a hospital bed making googly eyes at my best friend and swinging my neck like a broken paper swan.
Her mouth widens in an O of understanding. She shrugs her shoulders. My gosh, all that motioning just to find out she doesn't know what's up with Shane?
Aunt Helen kisses me on the temple and clasps her hands together as she steps back. "Oh, honey! I'm so glad you're all right. I was so worried."