by Brook Wilder
“I’m not going far,” he answered, his voice sounding faint. “Love you, buddy.”
I tried to answer but my voice suddenly wouldn’t work, and I fell back into the darkness.
Chapter 22
Elisa
I had never seen so much blood in my life.
I pressed down on the bandage at Damian’s side, refusing to let anyone else help. His skin was deathly pale, and his breathing had grown shallow, which was a sign of the body going into shock. If we didn’t get him to the hospital soon, he was going to die.
“Two minutes to landing!” Rex called out, grabbing a hold of the mesh over our heads to steady his balance. No one had dared moved since we loaded Damian into the chopper, everyone watching every breath to ensure that it was enough. Even with my training, I was nearly helpless other than keeping pressure, hoping and praying Damian could hold on just a little bit longer.
“Come on,” I whispered, staring down at his face. “Don’t leave me just yet.” He couldn’t. I had just gotten him back. This could not be the end.
If it was, I would never forgive myself.
The chopper started to lower, and I breathed a sigh of relief as the hospital came into view, the staff waiting near the helipad with the stretcher. Damian had survived the flight, now he would have to survive the emergency surgery.
As soon as the rails touched the ground, they hurried our way, helping us load him onto the stretcher. “There’s two bullet holes,” I forced myself to say. “One in his thigh, one in his side. I-I haven’t looked for exit wounds, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”
“We got him,” the doctor said, placing his hand over mine so I could slide it out, severing the contact from Damian.
Helpless, I watched as they raced toward the building.
“Is he…?” Harrison asked quietly as the chopper shut down, the eerie silence hard to take in.
I shook my head. “He’s still alive. It will be up to them to keep him that way.”
“The man’s a fool,” Rex muttered, his own face pale as he looked at the blood smeared on the floorboard. “He should have never engaged.”
“He did to save our asses,” Harrison growled. “Don’t forget that.”
I crawled to the side of the chopper and slid out, the blood on my hands sticky.
Damian’s blood.
Suddenly I wanted it off my hands. I wanted to picture him in the bed, his infectious grin.
I wanted to picture him being a badass, riding his bike.
I didn’t want to picture him dying.
“Come on,” Widow Maker was saying, her arm gently around my shoulders. “Let’s go inside.”
Numbly, I let her lead me inside the hospital, where I was given a set of scrubs to put on and a bathroom to change in. Widow Maker let me go in by myself and as soon as the door shut, I cut on the water, using the hospital soap to scrub the blood from my hands. The water turned pink and I lost it, sliding onto the floor in racking sobs. Damian might die.
I hadn’t even told him that I loved him, though his last words to me was that he loved me.
I couldn’t lose him now. I couldn’t bear to face another day without him.
Somehow, I pulled myself together and threw on the scrubs, cleaning my hands the best I could before walking out to face the gathering crowd. They were all looking at me with solemn faces, as if they knew I’d already broken down.
“He’s strong,” I forced out, looking them in the eyes. “He will get through this.”
“Yeah, of course he will,” Harrison said, though his expression was doubtful. “They have a waiting room for us. I’m gonna make some calls.”
I nodded and Widow Maker took my arm, leading me to the waiting room. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked softly. “Coffee maybe?”
“Sure,” I answered, my chest hollow. I knew they were just trying to help but I wanted to be left alone, to wait to hear news of his condition.
Or his death.
The pain hit my heart at the thought, and I sucked in a breath, wrapping my arms around my waist. Damian couldn’t die. He was the strongest person I knew.
But the way he looked, the nurse in me was already steeling against the bad news. When we had swooped down and saw him trying to escape, I had wanted to jump out of the chopper to help him, but Rex had forced Widow Maker to hold me back, he and Harrison going instead. Whatever Damian had been trying to do had not worked and he was a sitting duck out there.
Somehow, they had escaped unscathed. Damian was the only one with serious injuries and had we not gotten there when we did, he would have been dead.
The door opened and Voodoo walked through, his eyes finding mine. Angered that he had even bothered to show his face here, I jumped out of my seat and was slapping him across the face before I could even register what I was doing.
“Elisa,” Rex said, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me back. “That’s enough.”
“He left him out there,” I seethed, pointing at Voodoo. “He left him out there to die.”
To his credit, Voodoo just hung his head, looking nothing like the confident CIA agent I had come to know. “You’re right. I put him in that position and I’m sorry. I thought he wouldn’t do something as stupid as that.”
“Because of you he might die,” I told him, my voice cracking. “And if he does, I will kill you.”
“If he does, you won’t have to worry about it,” Voodoo said quietly, avoiding my gaze. “I’ve just come to tell you all that his debt is paid. I’m done. Let me know how he does, alright?”
Rex was the first to answer. “I will.”
Voodoo nodded, his gaze finally meeting mine. “I’m sorry. I threw your name out there and he would do anything to keep you safe. It’s my fault.”
“You better hope he survives,” I said quietly, unable to trust my own voice.
Voodoo didn’t say anything, turning and walking back out of the waiting room as quietly as he came. Rex let me go then and I lifted my chin, refusing to let the tears fall.
“He deserved it.”
“He was doing his job,” Rex said wearily. “Just like we do, Elisa. Can’t fault the man for that.”
I could. Voodoo was the reason I was in this waiting room right now, sitting on pins and needles to see if the man I loved was going to make it.
That, I couldn’t forgive him for.
Rex reached into the cargo pocket on his pants and pulled out an envelope, holding it out to me. “Here,” he said softly. “This is for you.”
I took the envelope. “What is it?”
“Damian left it for you,” he answered. “In case he didn’t make it back. I, hell, you need to look at it at least.”
The door opened and other club members poured into the room, giving me a chance to walk to a quieter area of the waiting room, sitting down on a bench overlooking the parking lot. With shaking hands, I opened the flap and pulled out a set of documents, keys falling out onto my lap in the process.
I set the keys aside as I looked at the first document, realizing it was the deed to Damian’s house.
In my name. Why on earth would he have done that? I knew why, I just didn’t want to come to terms that he hadn’t been planning on coming back from this mission.
Oh Damian.
The next document was access to his bank account, my name proudly displayed under his like we were a couple. He had given me access to his money, his pension, his retirement funds. A tear fell onto the paper and I swiped at it before it could stain the document. Damian had given this a lot of thought in a very short period.
While I was touched that he had, I wanted him. I didn’t care about the house or the money. I wanted him beside me, telling me that he was okay and that everything was going to be okay. I wanted to hold him in my arms and know that my strong soldier was not the man I had helped lower onto that stretcher.
Setting aside the document, I realized the last was a letter addressed to me. My heart squeezed in my chest when I saw his fami
liar handwriting, touching it with my fingers in hopes of feeling some of his strength. He had taken the time to write a letter in the midst of our madness of the last twenty-four hours.
Elisa, it started. I know this isn’t how you imagined our relationship would turn out, but if you are reading this, I’m likely not coming back. Don’t worry, I can handle this, but I wanted you to know that I love you. I only wish I could have said it to your beautiful face. Everything I have is now yours and while I know it’s not a replacement for me physically, I wanted you to know that I will always be with you. No one will ever love you like I do. My heart is yours and probably always has been. I hope that you know every waking minute of this day I have thought about you and how our future might have been. Please, go live that future for me. Be happy, my love.
Tears spilled in earnest as I crushed the paper to my chest, feeling his love pour out from his simple words. I could feel every bit of his own pain as he penned these words to paper, knowing that he might not come back.
He loved me.
Sobbing, I barely felt Widow Maker’s arms coming around me, comforting me. Damian had to pull through.
I had to have him back.
**
Four hours later, a hush fell over the waiting room as the door opened and the surgeon walked through, his eyes widening at the sheer amount of people who were waiting. “Um, I take it you are all part of the Gibson family?”
Rex stepped forward, swallowing. “We are.”
The surgeon seemed to collect himself. “Well, it must have been all of you that helped Mr. Gibson pull through the surgery then. He suffered some serious wounds and lost a lot of blood, but somehow, he made it off the table. I confess, I had my doubts and we nearly lost him one time, but he’s a fighter.”
Rex straightened his shoulders. “He is. He’s a Jester.”
“Right,” the surgeon stated, rubbing his forehead. “Well he’s in ICU now. The next twelve to twenty-four hours are going to be touch and go. Both bullet wounds did not have exits so we had to do a lot of retrieving and patching back together. The young man has a long road to recovery in front of him.”
“Is he awake?” Rex asked as I struggled to find my voice. Damian was alive. Damian had made it through surgery.
The surgeon shook his head. “We have him heavily sedated and will for about two to three days so his body can start the healing process.” He then looked around the room. “I can’t let you all back there, but one or two people will be good for him.”
Rex looked over at me. “Me and Elisa will go.”
“Of course,” Widow Maker said, releasing my hand she had been holding for the last hour. “Give him our love.”
“Tell him we are all rooting for him,” Harrison added as Sabrina wrapped her arm around his waist.
Others called out well wishes as Rex and I followed the surgeon out of the room and down to an elevator that would take us up to the ICU.
“He’s got a lot of tubes coming out of him,” he explained, punching the floor number. “And we are giving him quite a bit of blood to build that back up. I have to admit, I’ve never seen someone with his wounds survive.”
If anyone was going to do it, it would be Damian. Rex reached out and grasped my hand, giving me a comforting smile as the door opened and we stepped out into the unit, the sounds of beeping filling the air. While I had been on many a ward like this, I still felt the nervous butterflies as we walked to Damian’s room. Will hadn’t come back alive. This would be the first person I loved whom I would see like this.
“He might not look like himself right now,” the surgeon said gently as he stopped in front of a room. “But that will change with time. Just let him know you are here and to keep fighting.
“Thanks doc,” Rex said, nudging me forward. I took in a deep breath and stepped into the room, my eyes on the body in the bed.
The surgeon was right; he looked nothing like Damian. His body was bloated from the fluid and blood they were pumping in him, the tube coming from his mouth to keep his chest rising. IVs snaked up both of his strong arms and I let out a sound as I approached the bed, seeing the swath of bandages wrapped around his midsection.
Even Rex seemed to be taken aback by the sight, making a low sound as well as he took the other side of the bed, peering down at his friend. “Damn, man, what have you gotten yourself into?” he whispered.
“Damian,” I said softly, leaning near his ear. “I’m here and you have to come back to me, alright? I love you so much and I need for you to fight this. I need you.” I couldn’t live without him.
“Fight, man,” Rex added. “We all need you to fight.”
I carefully gathered Damian’s hand in mine, pressing a kiss to the back of it. I would stay here for as long as he needed me to be here. He was going to pull through. He was going to survive.
Because if he didn’t, we would all be lost.
Chapter 24
Damian
Four Months Later
I growled as I tried to maneuver around the edge of the couch, swearing as the footrest kept catching the back of it and halting my progress. My house was not built with any sort of wheelchair in mind, and no matter how much we moved shit around, I still found myself stuck at least three times a day.
I wanted to ditch the damn thing, but then I would fall flat on my face and that would be a complete embarrassment.
So, I did the next best thing. “Elisa!”
Elisa popped her head around the corner, a cheeky grin on her face. “I was wondering when you were going to call me for help.”
I motioned to the couch. “Burn the damn thing. I’m tired of running into it.”
She dissolved into laughter as she approached me, and my heart skipped a beat. It did that a lot around her lately. “Come on. I love this couch.”
“Well, burn the damn wheelchair then,” I grumbled as she pushed me past the obstruction and into the kitchen, where my original destination was. “How much longer?”
“Another two weeks,” she answered, pushing me up to the table. “The doctor said your leg is healing well and you should be able to completely leave the wheelchair behind by your next visit.”
“Thank God,” I muttered, thrusting a hand through my hair. I was so damn tired of riding around in that thing, dependent on others to do the most basic of tasks. Elisa had been fantastic since my near-death experience, staying by my side at the hospital for the entire month I was in there. I didn’t remember much of it, only the last two weeks or so after they woke me from the coma and the sedation wore off.
While I wanted to leave right then, I hadn’t, instead transferring to a rehab facility where they started working with me on the shattered leg that I had deemed useless. The femur had taken the brunt of the bullet before it had used my upper thigh as a ping pong table. The doctors said it was a miracle that I had even made it as far as I had to the chopper that night. A few screws and a long ass rod later, I had a surgically repaired leg and months of intensive therapy to look forward to.
They also told that it had been Elisa’s quick reaction that had saved my life, staving the flow of blood the best she could so that I hadn’t bled out on that chopper and died.
She had saved me in more ways than one.
“Here we go,” she was saying, placing the plate in front of me. “Lunch is served.”
I took a glance at the sandwich and chips, a wry smile coming to my face. “You’ve stepped up your cooking.”
Elisa slugged me in the shoulder. “Give me some credit. I’m still learning how to play nursemaid, cook, and housekeeper.”
I picked up a chip, crunching on it. She hadn’t gone back to work since my injury, turning in her notice to take care of me full time. Once or twice a week, one of the guys came by to sit with me and play video games for a couple of hours so that she could run some errands.
But her world had centered around me and for that, I didn’t know how to thank her.
Well I had a good idea, but
I wasn’t so sure she was going to like it.
The violence in Mexico hadn’t slowed down and more than once, I received messages from Voodoo detailing some of the fighting. He had come to see me in the hospital, actually apologizing for putting me in that line of fire and announced that he was done with the blackmailing.
The club and Elisa were safe, at least for now. Of course, there would be others, others who wanted us to go down for the shit we had caused, and once I was back on my feet, I would be ready to fight alongside my brothers in arms.
But I wouldn’t be doing any more solo missions. I had promised that to Elisa, and I meant it. I didn’t want to go out guns blazing anymore. I didn’t have a death wish like I used to.