No Mercy: An Everyday Heroes World Novel (The Everyday Heroes World)

by D. M. Davis

  He steps forward.

  I take a step down, only in my frazzled state, I misjudge the lip of the step and stumble.

  I reach for the railing, but miss.

  Oh, God.

  Panic races through my body as I try to right myself. It’s a lost cause.

  The cry I hear can’t be Gabriel or Austin’s. It’s too high and way too panicked to be either of theirs.

  It’s mine.

  The minute I realize what’s happening—what’s unavoidable, as my vision distorts and my angle is hideously wrong for descending stairs in an upright position—I roll to my side, balling up as best I can and prepare for impact, praying hitting my side will do less damage than tumbling headfirst.

  When the impact comes, it’s delayed as the world stills and the seconds stretch into minutes, but the delay does nothing to diminish the pain as I smack my ribs and head on the first step and the feeling of being skewered through my skull rips through me. With each hit, roll, bounce, the pain is excruciating. I give up my attempt to roll down the stairs in lieu of grabbing for anything to slow my descent.

  It’s on the fourth or fifth roll I lose the battle—or maybe I win—with another strike to my head all goes dark, and I cease feeling anything at all.

  I’m going to kill that son of a bitch is the first thought that crosses my mind when I see—even from my side view—the tears streaming down my Angel’s face and the sight of Austin’s hand on her arm as she jerks away.

  I barely catch the end of their conversation, but it’s evident something is very wrong. She looks unsteady on her feet. My gut clenches, and I move with purpose to get to her before she can get to me.

  But I’m not fast enough. Her wayward first step is catastrophic. The fear on her face and the terror in her scream has me bolting up the steps in horror as I watch her fall in slow motion. Her attempt to minimize it by rolling into a ball is admirable, but there is no way she’s getting out of this unharmed. I can see it happening, and I’m helpless to stop it. Once again, I’m not here in time to save my Angel.

  I’ve heard the soundtrack of war. I know what grown men screaming in pain sound like. I know the sight and sound of flesh being ripped from bones. The cries and pleading of the enemy to have mercy on their souls.

  But I will never get the sound of her body hitting the first step out of my head, or the sight of her bouncing to only hit again and again before I reach her.

  When I finally do, I catch her head before it slams to the hard surface, but the impact of our meeting is not gentle. If it wasn’t for Austin coming from above, and Cameron hot on my heels, our collision—all 240 pounds of me slamming into her—could have caused her more damage than the fucking stairs. Somehow, in perfect timing they slowed our joining and each cushion a part of her body before it lands again and brace me to stop my forward momentum.

  We still on the steps, frozen, afraid to move, our breathing the only sounds I hear besides the rush of blood in my ears as I look down at a lifeless angel.

  “Frankie?” Breathlessly, I shout her name. When not much comes out, I take a deep breath and try again, “Frankie?”

  Getting no response, I check for a pulse, careful to move her neck as little as possible.

  “Is she breathing?” Cameron asks as Austin cries, “God, don’t let her die.”

  “She’s got a pulse.” I keep my fingers steady, judging the strength of her heartbeat. “It’s strong.” Her chest moves with each breath. “She’s breathing.”

  I tell Cameron and Austin not to move, and bark orders to anyone listening to call 9-1-1, and get the backboard and medical kit from her office. I’ve never been so happy I’m a medic in all my life. The training, the hard work, the pain, the tragedies I’ve seen and experienced have led me to this place of holding her life in my hands.

  Once on the backboard, straps in place, we move her to the lobby where I assess the damage while waiting for the ambulance to arrive. She’s bleeding from a cut above her left ear. I place a cotton bandage against it and put Cameron to work holding it in place with slight pressure. Her lip is busted. Her nose is bleeding. Her eyes are swelling shut, but I’m able to confirm her pupils are reactive. The blood coming from her ears is concerning. I have no doubt she has a concussion, but a brain bleed will have to be assessed at the hospital.

  “How is she?” Austin asks every few minutes.

  Letting one of the other guys deal with his panicked state, I tune him out as I continue my exam. I go through a mental checklist as I feel across her collarbones, shoulders and arms. “Nothing broken.”

  I lift up her shirt and ignore Cameron’s gasp at the sight of the contusion on her left side. “Probably broken ribs.” I note her right side seems to have taken less of a beating.

  I move lower, palpating her abdomen, feeling her hips and down both legs to her feet. I glance at Cameron, his concern evident, but he’s keeping his shit together, which I appreciate. “I think it’s only her ribs and her head, but we won’t know for sure until imaging is performed.”

  Sirens approach as I check her blood pressure again. It’s a little low, but steady. “She’s doing good. My girl’s a fighter.”

  “Where did you learn to do all of this?” Cameron asks, adding more gauze to her head wound.

  “I was a medic in the army.”

  “He was Special Forces—a Green Beret,” Warren, the gym manager adds with pride.

  Cameron’s eyes go wide. “Wow.”

  “Former Green Berets,” I stress.

  “Still. That’s impressive.” Cameron scans Frankie’s face. “She’s lucky you were here.”

  “I’m not sure.” I sit back and hold her hand. The emotions I’m trained to hold back seep through my restraint, knowing the EMTs are close and my time to be the first responder is nearly up. I run a hand over my face. “Maybe she wouldn’t have fallen if I hadn’t called her name.”

  Regret and sorrow are my daily companions for two days now. My Angel hasn’t woken up. She’s banged up pretty bad, bruising all over her body. Her left side and head took the brunt of the damage. A few broken ribs, a concussion, and a face that looks like she lost a prize fight. But her scans came back clean, no internal bleeding, no brain bleeds, no brain swelling. She’s breathing on her own. IV meds to manage the pain and keep her hydrated. Yet, she still sleeps.

  Rowdy hasn’t left her side, or mine for that matter. Yeah, I progressed from Cameron to Rowdy. He deemed me worthy. I guess it’s a good sign. If my Angel would just wake up, I’d have a chance of convincing her I’m worthy of her.

  Though, I’m not. I knew it the first day I met her, and I reinforced it every day since, with maybe a blip or two where I really thought we had a chance. But the longer she stays unconscious, the harder I pray and the less I believe I deserve even a moment of her precious time.

  I’m no good for her. I’ve proven that over and over again. Her latest tumble, the most obvious proof. The pain I’ve caused her, indirectly or not, is hard to come back from. Hard to see past. Hard to forgive. Hard to forget.

  For the past five years, I went out of my way to avoid her. When I couldn’t, I went out of my way to make her feel like she meant nothing to me. In truth, she meant the world. Every day she seeped in further.

  I couldn’t fight her out of me.

  I couldn’t fuck her out of me.

  I couldn’t knock her loose.

  She’s here to stay.

  Even if I end up calloused and alone, she’ll still be with me.

  Even if she ends up with a guy like Rowdy, she’ll still be mine.

  My Angel. My own personal hell.

  “Hey.”

  I scrub my face and blink up into the eyes of a concerned Cap. “You need to rest. Shower. Eat.”

  “I’m good.” I’m not leaving her side.

  “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

  I chuckle my dissent. “I’m not up for taking orders, Cap.”

  He grips my shoulder, bending down so we’re ey
e to eye. “I know you’re worried. But running yourself into the ground is not going to help her when she wakes up. She needs you strong and not smelling like a ripe locker room.” He straightens up. “Now, get your ass out of the chair before I have you removed.”

  “Fine.” I stand, pocketing my phone. “I’ll shower and eat, but I’m not sleeping anywhere but at her side.”

  I find Rowdy in the waiting room. His feet are propped up, head back, eyes staring at nothing. I nudge his shoulder. “Come on.”

  He jumps to attention. “Where?”

  “Food. Shower.”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  Nodding my understanding, I note his tired eyes and disheveled state. Maybe we both could use a little sleep, too. “I don’t want to leave either. But she’ll need us when she wakes up. She needs us strong and healthy.” I pull him toward the exit. “Which requires we sacrifice being by her side for a few hours.”

  He follows, his reluctance equaling mine. Neither of us want to leave, afraid of what will happen if we do.

  “She’ll be fine,” he offers.

  “Yep.”

  “I believe that.” I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince. Me or him.

  “Me too.”

  “You don’t seem like you believe it.”

  “My Angel’s strong. She’ll bounce back. She always does.”

  “Then, what’s wrong?”

  I unlock the car, motioning him to get in. Once we’re on the road to their hotel—the suite he’s kept even though he hasn’t stepped foot in the door since the accident—I offer up my truth. “She’s better off without me.”

  “I thought the same… At first.” He slants his eyes my way. “But now I’ve witnessed how much you care for her… I believe I was wrong.”

  I have no response. I don’t know if you can love someone enough to make what is inherently bad good enough for someone who is inherently good. I think it’s a leap too far to traverse. I may be named after Gabriel the avenging angel, but I am no saint. My mortal form is deficient. I was made for one thing and one thing only. To fight. It’s what I know. It’s what courses through my veins. It’s what keeps my tin can in my chest silent.

  I know how to survive.

  I know how to fight.

  I know how to fuck.

  I don’t know how to love an angel.

  Rowdy and I step into Frankie’s room and pause at the sight of Austin crying at her bedside. He nearly looks like the guy I was best friends with for five years…nearly. The version before me, though, he’s caused my Angel a lot of pain. Pain he could have avoided if he had the balls to leave her before he started cheating. Before he decided he no longer saw forever in her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I give him a wide berth, moving to the other side of her bed, unsure if I’ll listen to what he has to say or kill him straight out.

  He sniffs and rubs the disgrace from his face. I’ve got nothing against a man crying. I’ve felt like it a few times in my life, and if you pressed me, I’d admit I shed more than a few tears the first night I sat by her side watching her sleep and praying for God’s mercy. Not for me. For her.

  “I had to see her.” His red-rimmed eyes stare at me like I have the answers he seeks.

  Sorry, man. I can’t give you absolution.

  “I don’t think she’d want you here. Especially while she’s defenseless.” Rowdy stands at the end of the bed, arms crossed. His stance is wide, looking like he’d rather piss on Austin than share the same air.

  I can relate. And I like Rowdy all the more for it.

  “Who the fuck are you to tell me that? You’ve known her for, like, two seconds.” Austin stands. His balls make an appearance. It’s good to know he hasn’t turned into a complete pansy-ass.

  Rowdy raises a brow, his mouth tight as his gaze slides to me and back to Austin. “I know the two of you have caused her more pain than she deserves.”

  I’m not pissed or taken aback by his words. He’s not saying anything I haven’t already said to myself.

  Rowdy points at me but speaks to Austin. “But he wasn’t the one making her cry two days ago. He didn’t have her running down the hall in near hysterics.” He leans over the bed getting closer to Austin, rage rippling off him like steam. “And he sure as fuck didn’t cheat on her for years, making her feel like she didn’t deserve better than a piece of shit like you.”

  In seconds Austin is in Rowdy’s face, going toe to toe. Their nostrils are flared, hands fisted at their sides.

  “Enough.” I pull them apart, one hand braced against Rowdy’s chest as I push Austin in the other direction. “I understand you want to be here. You want to know how she is. But you gave up that right the minute you left her bleeding and unconscious months ago. You fucked up, brother. But it started years ago. You’ve moved on. You’ve made your choice.” I back him to the door. “Man the fuck up, and let her go so she can move on.”

  “I need to know she’s okay.” His anger is gone. He knows he fucked up in ways they may never come back from.

  “She will be. But she doesn’t need the reminder of your failed relationship by waking up to your face. Don’t make her suffer to make yourself feel better. Cap will let you know when she wakes up. Then she can decide for herself if she wants to see you.”

  In the hall he turns, his hand over his mouth as his eyes fill with tears. “She was my everything for so long.” He fights to keep his emotions in check. “I can’t imagine a future without her in it—in some way.” The crack in his voice, I feel deep in my bones.

  His words ring too true for me. “You crushed her dreams, Austin, in a really shitty way. You have to give her time to discover new ones. If it includes you or not—it’s up to her. Not you. You made your choice. Now you need to let her make hers.”

  He moves down the hall like a man who left more behind than he bargained for. Like the best of his life is behind him—lying in a hospital bed—better than anything that could possibly lie ahead.

  I know as soon as my Angel wakes up, the man I see walking down the hall could be me. I just might be mirroring his steps, his regrets, his fear that there will never be anything better than Frankie in his life.

  The only difference? I know for a fact, there is nothing better than Frankie.

  I walk into her room and nearly crumple at the sight of my Angel’s eyes open and her sights on me.

  “Angel.”

  “Gabriel.”

  The sight of Gabriel at the door of my hospital room brings me back to the last time he stepped into my ER room after Austin dislocated my shoulder. It’s not the pain I remember, it’s the look on Gabriel’s face, the desolation, the compassion, the air of protectiveness that washes over me. He’s devastatingly handsome in a way that makes my heart ache and brings tears to my eyes. I’ve missed his face.

  “Angel.”

  “Gabriel.” Anguish tugs at my resolve while Austin’s words float to the surface, bringing me back to the moment I stepped away from him and toward Gabriel, only to tumble down the stairs injuriously.

  Before my sob breaks free, Gabriel is at my side. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tenderly clasping my face between his hands, wiping at my tears. “I tried, but I couldn’t get to you fast enough.” His lips are feather soft as he kisses my forehead, cheeks, chin, and finally my mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry, Angel.”

  “Not your fault,” I rasp around the tightness in my throat as I fight for control.

  “It’s my fault you were there in the first place.” He squeezes his eyes closed as if he can eliminate whatever thoughts are pressing to be heard—to be seen.

  His thumb tenderly swipes back and forth over my cheek. “I didn’t cheat on you. I swear. That chick stole my phone from Davenport’s. I wasn’t with her.”

  “She said you were in the shower, and she was going to join you.” I hate the quiver in my voice, the hurt, coming back in full force. “You broke my heart.”

  “I didn’t.” He shakes h
is head. “I wasn’t with her. I didn’t cheat on you. She stole my phone. The picture she sent you, the text, wasn’t me. There’s no picture of her sucking my cock.” He flinches like the words leaving his mouth hurt nearly as much as the image did me. Shaking his head, he adds, “I didn’t know she talked to you too.” His head falls to my neck. “Jesus, what you must have been thinking… Feeling. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

  “Why would she go to all that trouble?”

  He meets my eyes. “She hit on me that night, tried to talk me into going home with her. I told her I wasn’t interested and walked away. I didn’t realize I’d left my phone sitting on the bar until hours later. By then it was too late. She’d already taken it and hatched her scheme to get back at me.”

  “The guy in the picture wasn’t you? You weren’t with her?”

  “Not me, but—” He bows his head, hiding his eyes. “I was with her the night things went down with Austin. The night at the bar when I was such an ass to you. I took her home. But there are no pictures, and I haven’t seen her since.” His eyes rise to mine. “I’m not a cheater. I only want you. There’s no one else but you, Angel. For the past five years, you’re all I see. I haven’t been a saint, but I’m not a fucking cheater. Once you were mine, that was it. No one else but you.”

  He didn’t cheat. I nod, too many emotions running rampant to respond.

  Tenderly wrapping me in his arms, he buries his head in my neck. “Please forgive me.”

  “You didn’t cheat, so there’s nothing to forgive,” I mumble into crook of his shoulder, trying to wrap my mind around the turn of events. I was upset for nothing?

  “Yes, there is. You wouldn’t be in this hospital bed if I didn’t send you running to Vegas.” His mouth finds mine for a short but tender kiss. “I’m guilty as hell in so many other ways I’ve hurt you. Forgive me, Angel.”