Phoenix: A Hunter Novel

by J. V. Speyer

  “She told us she left you in the dayroom.” Donovan shuddered with his whole body at the thought.

  Luis nodded. “She did. But had help. Got them to put her on the other side of the fire door.” He yawned. “Did you find her?” Then his heart rate—monitored carefully by what looked like a hundred little sensors coming out from under his thin polka-dotted johnnie—spiked, and he struggled to sit up. “Did you find her? The building is on fire.”

  Luis’ eyes burned with fear. Sweat poured down his face. An alarm rang somewhere outside the room, and a tall Black woman in a white coat rushed into the room. “Who exactly is agitating my seriously fragile patient?”

  “She’s going to burn.” Luis reached for Donovan. “Fire doors are only so good.”

  Donovan kissed Luis’ sweaty forehead. “We found her. She’s safe and on her way to Nashua Street. It’s okay. I promise. I found her myself, okay? I’m not just yanking your chain.”

  Luis’ panic subsided immediately. “Don’t want that on my conscience.” His heart rate began to ebb back toward normal, and he relaxed against Donovan. “Sorry I smell bad.”

  “You smell alive, and that’s what I care about.”

  “Sorry I distracted you from the Southwick thing.”

  “Luis, this isn’t your fault.”

  But Luis had already fallen asleep.

  The stranger shook her head, a gentle smile on her lips. “Let me guess, you’d be Captain Carey’s son.”

  Donovan blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  “Your mother called when Agent Gomes was first brought in. He was about to call you, I believe, when the phone rang. He passed the phone to me, as I didn’t believe him when he identified himself. You wouldn’t believe how many people try to claim they’re secret agents when they come in here, usually after doing something embarrassing.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m Dr. Anderson. I’m working to stabilize your partner until we can transfer him to Tufts.”

  “I’m Donovan Carey. This is Agent Kevin Rourke. He’s Luis’ work partner.” Donovan stroked Luis’ hair. “How bad off is he?”

  Anderson glanced toward the door. “I’m going to operate on the assumption you’re his next of kin. He’s in bad shape, honestly. He was already fairly dehydrated when he came in, and the blood loss isn’t helping. We’re doing what we can for both of those things, and he seems to be responding well. With any luck, he’ll come away without permanent damage to internal organs such as his kidneys.

  “I’m not sure what the conditions were like where he was being held, but it’s almost like he’s been held in cold storage. We’re talking refrigeration. I’m seeing some signs of early hypothermia, and maybe tortured with frozen items?” Anderson indicated marks on Luis’ arm and shoulders. They looked almost like finger marks, except for where they were more like bone impressions. Donovan knew what they were, but of course Anderson wouldn’t. “He told me he was drugged. We did a blood test and he did test positive for ketamine, and a large dose of it too. That could explain why he was able to escape—the pain from his leg should have been unbearable, but the drug is routinely used as an anesthetic.”

  Kevin made a face. “It’s possible. Luis is also the kind of guy who thinks pain is a problem for future-him.”

  “We see a lot of those guys around here.” Anderson smirked. Then she sobered a bit. “Unfortunately, while he may have saved his own life, he might have caused more damage to the leg. We’re going to have to see what the experts think. His heart rate is still erratic, I’m afraid, and I don’t like that at all. The leg is secondary to the brain and heart.”

  “You’re not suggesting he’s going to lose it?” Donovan held Luis a little closer, even though he didn’t seem to notice. He’d love Luis no matter what, but even the perceived loss of independence wouldn’t sit well with Luis.

  “I’m not ruling anything out. Like I said, we’ll get him to Tufts and go from there.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tufts was a blur. Luis was content to let it be a blur. Now that he wasn’t in danger, or at least not in immediate danger, he could surrender to the oblivion that had been calling him ever since Hyena Lady shot him. He had a few moments of lucidity, such as when the new doctor started poking around at his leg. The pain from even the slightest touch yanked him out of his state and sent him howling nearly to the ceiling.

  The new doctor was a white guy, with gray hair and cold gray eyes. He informed Luis that the pain was “good news, son. It means some of the nerves are still attached.”

  Luis wasn’t so far gone that he missed the some in his sentence.

  He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had more images taken, and that included during the FBI application and intake process. Fortunately, they didn’t need him to be awake or coherent during the imaging process, so he let himself drift in and out. Donovan was around, willing to stand there and hold his hand even though Luis stank and was more or less useless during the whole thing.

  Then they wheeled him into a bay, like a presurgical area. It was like a room, but with curtains for walls. He could hear murmurs and, occasionally, shouts from other patients he couldn’t see. His nurse, thankfully, turned out to be Brazilian. She spoke to him in Portuguese. “I’d love to give you something for the pain because I know you’re really feeling it right now, but you’ll be going into surgery just as soon as a room opens up. We can’t give you anything that might interfere with the anesthesia.”

  Donovan set his jaw, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t like being excluded from conversations, but he didn’t seem to want to deny Luis this little comfort right now. “Did I introduce my boyfriend Donovan?” Luis squeezed Donovan’s hand. “He’s the best.”

  The nurse smiled kindly at both of them. “I’m so happy you’ve got someone who can be with you right now. I don’t suppose he has brothers?”

  “Three, but one’s an asshole.” Luis grimaced as a wave of pain overtook him. “You’ll like the other two though.”

  The nurse laughed and switched to English to speak to Donovan. “The anesthesiologist is on her way in. Once she’s here, I have to chase you away. I hate to do it, but we have to keep the OR as clean and as distraction-free as possible.”

  “I understand completely.” Donovan managed a little smile. He bent down and touched his lips to Luis’ forehead. It must have been disgusting, considering how filthy Luis was, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I’ll be pacing in the waiting room.”

  “Along with the squad of people in suits and cops, I’m sure.” The nurse winked. “There’s even a small child waiting.”

  “Nicky’s here?” Luis tried to sit up. Donovan gently pushed him back down. “He shouldn’t be in a hospital. It’s too scary. Shouldn’t he be in school?”

  “He’s not going to be in school when his favorite uncle has been shot and is in surgery.” Donovan stroked Luis’ cheek, and Luis tried not to lean into it too hard. “It would be useless to send him. He wouldn’t be able to focus anyway. Come on.”

  A white woman with brown hair, about Luis’ own age, popped into the scene. “Hi, I’m Dr. Wilson. I’m your anesthesiologist. I understand you’re the agent who got taken hostage and freed himself on a shattered tibia?”

  Luis heard one of the monitors beep, saw Donovan’s look of consternation. “I shouldn’t have let myself get—”

  “None of that.” Donovan’s voice turned gruff. “It could have happened to anyone, you didn’t have any reason to think someone was gunning for you, and you didn’t just get yourself out, you made sure she was safe before you escaped. Which you did. On a leg that’s so shattered it needs—”

  He cut himself off at a warning look from the nurse. Luis didn’t understand what that warning look meant, but his brain was too foggy from pain, shock, and fatigue to care.

  “You’re amazing, and don’t you forget it.” Donovan broke off. “I guess I have to go now?”

  Dr. Wilson gave him a gentle smile. “You can stay un
til he’s under, if you want. Agent Gomes, do you have any known allergies to any medications?”

  “I don’t drink.” Luis frowned. “My dad was a drunk.”

  Donovan huffed out a little laugh. “He doesn’t. He also doesn’t take any mind-altering substances, so he’s probably a little bit of a lightweight.” He’d answered the same question for Luis five times already, or at least five times that Luis could hear. God, it was embarrassing.

  “Fair enough.” Dr. Wilson approached Luis with a mask.

  “Wait.” Luis squeezed Donovan’s hand. “Tell Kevin I need the thing in my desk. He’ll know what I’m talking about.” He nodded to Wilson, and let the darkness take the pain away.

  The world was fuzzy when he came back to consciousness—fuzzy, and painful.

  His nurse, whose name tag he could now process, was still Cila Castro. “How are you feeling?”

  Luis took stock. The world was indeed still fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure if his stomach was on board with the idea of food or even water. His head felt a lot clearer, so that was something, but his leg was still on fire.

  “A little more with it than I was. That’s not saying much.” He grimaced. “I apologize if I was out of line before. I don’t remember much.”

  “You were fine.” She took his hand and smiled. “You told me your boyfriend was the best and said I’d like his two brothers. That’s about it.” She glanced around what Luis assumed was a recovery room. “He said you wouldn’t want morphine for the leg. I argued with him, and I’ll still give it to you if you want it, but the people with him backed him up . . .”

  Luis smiled and let himself relax as much as he could. “They were right. It hurts—it hurts a lot. My father was—is—an addict, and I’m leery of following in his footsteps. Also, I get incredibly stupid when I’m on painkillers. It’s embarrassing.”

  She laughed a little. “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll see what we can do. If you think you’re ready, we can bring you up to your room.”

  He stopped her with a gesture. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. But, um, everything kind of hurts, and I can’t really tell the difference. My leg . . .”

  She gave him a soft smile. “It’s still there, Agent. Your doctor will talk to you about the surgery and everything else. I’m not qualified to discuss your prognosis or any of that. But he did save the leg.”

  Luis let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

  He knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He’d known the bone was a mess when he’d been shot. Still, he’d have a hard time making a case for staying with the Bureau if they’d had to amputate.

  An orderly appeared, and between him and Nurse Cila, they wheeled him out of the recovery room and out into a long sterile corridor. They took a ride in an elevator that smelled strongly of disinfectant, only to end up on an unmarked floor. “This is a floor we use for people who need a little extra privacy.” Cila continued to speak Portuguese, as if there wasn’t anyone around. “Most of the people on this ward are trauma patients who might need the protection, but occasionally, there are celebrities who don’t need fans popping in to gawk while they recover from surgery or whatever.”

  They wheeled Luis into a room with two uniformed officers—one Boston cop and one state trooper—standing outside the door.

  The first thing Luis noticed, strangely enough, was that it was dark outside. The second was that the room was full. Patricia was there, along with Donovan, Kevin, SSA Holcombe, Alicia, Nicky, and Jose Perez, Luis’ foster dad.

  Luis stared. All these people had come to see him? All these people had to see him like this—covered by a sheet and a hospital smock? Overwhelm made his mind spin, and threatened to make the room do the same. He wrestled himself back under control and pulled the blanket farther up his body, making sure everything below his ribcage was hidden.

  Somehow, he’d learned shame over the past couple of years, or at least modesty.

  Nicky, being all of eight, had no use for restraint. He didn’t even wait for Cila and the orderly to finish wheeling Luis into the room before he flung himself at Luis, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing tight.

  The gesture made Luis gasp. He’d almost forgotten about his bruised ribs in the fuss about his leg, but he’d gladly endure the pain in exchange for the warmth and love of this small innocent person.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again!” Nicky soaked Luis’ johnnie with tears in only a few seconds. “I woke up, and Mom told me you’d been hurt. I got scared!”

  Luis stroked Nicky’s hair and swallowed hard. He couldn’t make himself look into the eyes of anyone else there, not even Donovan. “I’ll admit it—I was scared too, buddy. When I woke up in that basement, in the dark, I was pretty sure I was never going to get out of there. But you know what?”

  Nicky sniffed. Cila twitched. If Luis had to guess, he’d figure she was running through the laundry list of germs small children carried with them.

  “What, Uncle Luis?”

  “I wasn’t going to let go without a fight. I had too much to get back to. Especially you, Nicky.” Now he did look up and meet Donovan’s eyes. “So I worked hard to get out. It wasn’t easy, and the first time, I failed. But the second time, I managed it.”

  Holcombe hid her grin with one hand. “And burned down a historic building while you were at it.”

  Luis let Cila help set Nicky into a more comfortable position for both of them, raising the back of the bed so Luis didn’t have to hold himself in a sitting position. “It smelled bad. What can I say?”

  Everyone laughed, even Jose. Marriage looked good on Jose. He’d gotten grayer over the years, with maybe a few more crow’s-feet, but he still looked every inch as strong and vibrant as he had the day he shook Luis’ hand on his way out the door.

  Now Jose stepped forward. He took a deep breath and hesitated. “It’s been a while, Luis.”

  “Too long.” Luis looked down. “How are you?”

  Jose shocked him by throwing his arms around him. “Better now that I can see you’re alive and talking.” He switched to Spanish. “I heard you’d been taken from a damn crime wire. I thought I was going to have a heart attack right there in the office.”

  “I’m sorry.” Luis buried his face in Jose’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me.”

  “Of course I should! I’m your father. Maybe I didn’t show it the way I wanted to, the way you needed me to. There were reasons for that, but, Luis, I’m proud of you. And I’m always going to worry about you because that’s exactly what I signed up for when I brought you under my roof.” He gave Luis a squeeze, including Nicky for good measure, and turned to the rest of the room with a smile.

  “I’ve been getting to know your Boston family while you were lazing around downstairs,” he said, switching back to English so everyone else could understand him. “I can probably worry a little bit less. Just a little though.” He winked at Nicky, who laughed and hid his face in Luis’ chest again. “I mean you did get shot. Again.”

  “You should see the other guy. Er, person.” Scott perked up from his perch on the windowsill. “She definitely didn’t expect the fight she got out of him, that’s for sure.”

  Everyone laughed, even Luis. He could laugh now. He distinctly remembered Donovan telling him Hyena Lady was in custody.

  Something deep down inside Luis didn’t want to trust this. There was too much that could still go wrong. For now though, he couldn’t do much to affect anything either way. He forced himself to relax into the moment. He would take whatever came as it came.

  Donovan hadn’t met Jose when he and Luis lived together back in their college days. Donovan had still been in the closet, and Luis hadn’t wanted to burden Jose with his life any more than he absolutely had to. During the long hours of Luis’ surgery, he’d had a chance to experience the man who gave Luis the confidence to live as an out gay man for pretty much his entire life.

  Jose was, on a lot of levels, exactly w
hat Donovan would expect from a cop parent. Donovan had grown up around a fair number of them, after all. He made his expectations clear—Luis would take his meds, he would rest and not try to sign himself out AMA, he would eat the hospital food when it was offered. He wasn’t given to flowery displays of emotion either.

  At the same time, he had a subtle, wicked sense of humor that put everyone around them at ease. He was just as welcoming and loving toward Nicky as Luis himself was, and wasn’t that something?

  And he didn’t try to interfere with Donovan at all. Donovan did find Jose staring at him from time to time, but it wasn’t with that touch-my-kid-and-I’ll-kill-you vibe he half expected.

  A pair of doctors stopped in early the next morning, before Alicia and Nicky could return. Ordinarily, Donovan knew, they wouldn’t have so many visitors to contend with. Luis’ position as a federal agent made the extra law enforcement presence inevitable.

  That didn’t mean the doctors were enthusiastic about the audience. “Er, Agent Gomes, do you really want a big crowd for this?” The surgeon asking was a tiny Asian woman with a flat New York accent.

  The crowd, at this hour, consisted of Donovan, Patricia, Kevin, Jose, Holcombe, and Alex Morales.

  “They’re all pretty much family at this point.” Luis waved a hand. “And, honestly, pain causes memory lapses in a good number of patients. It’s important to have other people present.”

  “Fair enough.” The surgeon grimaced and glanced over at Holcombe, specifically. That alone told Donovan she knew who Holcombe was, and her relationship to Luis. “I’m Dr. Wattana, I’m your orthopedic surgeon. I specialize in traumatic reconstruction. This is Dr. Ihejirika, he’s a neurosurgeon.”

  Luis and Jose both winced. The expressions were identical, and it would have made Donovan laugh under other circumstances.

  Luis ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. “I suspected there was nerve damage after it happened.”

  “You’re a smart man, Agent.” Ihejirika gave him a grim smile. “A gunshot of that caliber, at that range—well, it would almost have to cause nerve damage. The amount of damage still remains to be seen. There’s a lot of swelling, and a lot of reaction to the injury itself.”