Chapter Three

 Happy Labor Day!

Yesterday family came over for hamburgers on the grill. I'm so glad. Mr. B was having a hard time with being in A-fib again. By the afternoon his heart rate settled and he popped out. Yay!!

Today will be a quiet day washing clothes, watering plants, and writing. At least I hope it's quiet. We'll see.

Here's some more of Reese's Return. 

Have a wonderful week.

“On a scale of one to ten, Mr. Sanchez. What is your pain level?”

Lee opened his eyes and looked at the middle-aged nurse. He decided not to throw in a wince or groan in response to her question. The lady’s sharp gaze and cool professionalism told him that she would see through a snow job.  A straightforward answer would get him where he needed to be.

“Seven.”

He watched her touch his fingers.

“Do you have any sensations in your arm, Mr. Sanchez?” The woman’s gentle touch traveled over Lee’s wrapped arm encased in a special sling, keeping his arm stationary against his chest. “Tingling or pricking? If I squeeze your fingers, can you feel anything?”

Lee wondered if she was trying to trick him. He remembered the doc who performed the surgery explaining that the nerve block he’d inserted into his shoulder wouldn’t wear off for around twenty-four hours. He was sure that amount of time hadn’t passed, at least he hoped not. He had things to do.

“Nothing,” Lee answered. Now, if the woman wanted to discuss pain, his side hurt like a bitch. The knife that had messed up his arm had also done a number on his side. According to the same doc who reattached what was left of the tendons and muscles of his arm, had also used a bunch of shiny staples to pull together the flesh of his side. His saving grace had been that no organs were damaged. Yay him.

The nurse let go of his hand. “I’ll go get your medication. We’ll be changing you to oral pain relivers soon.”

“Thank you.” See, he could be nice even if he wanted to swear a blue streak and demand she shoot him up with the good stuff before standing out of his way. No need, at this point, to give away his plans.

The door shut behind her with a quiet click. Lee glanced at and waited for the big black man in the corner to say something. Not much escaped Isaiah Briggs, the deadly weapons expert for Rescue for Hire West. His presence said that Roman was with Reese and soothed a tiny bit of Lee’s concerns. Not enough to stop Lee’s plans.

Isaiah nodded and Lee took that action as an understanding between them. Lee would do what he had decided, and Isaiah knew what he was up to. He saw that the team’s tracker, Santos Elbarize, had caught the exchange. Good, as far as Lee was concerned, they were all on the same page. Mentally he dismissed Isaiah’s husband, Carson, and Santos’s husband, Tristen. No matter how banged up he was, the smaller men wouldn’t stop him.

“Don’t worry, I think the feeling in your arm and hand should return in about twelve hours.” Parker Curry Kent, one of the team’s paramedics, reached over and lowered the bedsheet, and began poking at the skin surrounding the bandages covering Lee’s side. “So far there’s no indication of infection. They have you on some powerful antibiotics.”

Lee kept his mouth shut. They had told him Reese was alive and at a different hospital, but nothing more. Too much time had passed since the attack. Something must be wrong. Reese had a deep-seated hatred of hospitals, and no way was he voluntarily staying in one. Whatever the circumstances, Reese needed Lee, and Lee needed to be with him. They were a team against whatever the world threw at them.

The door opened and the nurse entered. “Okay, let’s give you a little something to take the edge off and try to keep ahead of the pain. Next time, Mr. Sanchez, please say something before the pain reaches over the center of the pain chart.”

Lee didn’t bother to answer and watched her insert the drugs into his IV line. He closed his eyes and waited.

Moments or hours later, panic surged through his system. He opened his eyes and sat up. A red hot poker of fire punched through his side. Shit, damn, that hurt.

Lee withdrew into himself and let steely determination take over. He whipped off the sheet and ground his teeth together as he shifted his legs off the bed. He paused and let the fog fade, the room coming back into focus.

“What are you doing?” Parker stood and rushed over to Lee.

“Take out the IV,” Lee ordered. “Or, I will.”

“Lee.” Parker placed his hands over Lee’s. “There’s a good chance you are going to be discharged by this afternoon. Wait until the doctor releases you. You’re going to need the meds he prescribes.”

“Reese won’t wait and if he’s incapable of leaving the hospital, he needs me there.” Lee kept his gaze unwavering as he looked at the smaller man. “I’m leaving now. Help me or get out of my way.”

“I’ll call Roman,” Tristen threatened from his chair next to Santos.

Lee lifted one eyebrow at the pretty man. “Do you think I care?”

“You should,” Tristen replied. “If it weren’t for Roman and Jimmy, we wouldn’t be sitting here and babysitting your sorry ass.”

Lee nodded toward the other side of the room. “There’s the door. After you go through it, leave it open for me.”

“If you were in the hospital, anjinho, nothing would stop me from being at your side.” Santo’s ran a finger down Tristen’s cheek.

Tristen stared at his husband, a soft smile curving his lips. “Even if he manages to walk out of here and get to the hospital, they probably won’t let him into the ICU. They only let Roman see him for fifteen minutes every hour.” Tristen glanced at Lee and sniffed. “I don’t know why he always has to give everyone a hard time.”

Lee had heard enough. He placed his feet on the floor, stood, and sat back down. The room twirled around him as sharp daggers pierced up and down his injured side. An unwanted groan left his lips and he hunched over in pain.

Breathing didn’t matter. Agony, be damned. He fought to push aside all discomfort and tried to stand again.

“Sit.”

The quiet word seeped through the roaring pain. Lee opened his eyes to find Carson standing in front of him and holding a bundle of clothes.

“Your shirt is missing.” Carson lifted the material a few inches as if to show Lee what he carried. “It must not have been salvageable after the attack. I have one of Isaiah’s here that should fit you.” Carson bit into his bottom lip for a moment before continuing. “Can I help you dress?”

Lee knew Carson’s history. The vicious scars bisecting his cheek and across his throat bespoke of the abuse he had endured during a dark time in his life. Lee saw nothing of the pompous, over-confident, and arrogant man he’d heard Carson used to be, in the meek person before him.

Lee relaxed back on the bed and nodded. “Thank you.”

Carsen set the clothes down next to his feet. That was when Lee noticed the smaller man’s hand and arm wasn’t as coordinated as the other. He had forgotten that Carsen had lifelong physical challenges, not only from his abuse but from a plane crash that had killed his abuser.

After arranging Lee’s underwear and shorts, Carsen held them out. “Can you lift your foot?”

Lee ground his teeth together as over the next few minutes pain dragged out into imagined endless hours. By the time his shorts were up around his hips and Parker had helped remove the sling to jury rig the shirt around his bandaged arm and body, sweat dripped down the side of Lee’s face.

“As a medic, I have to advise you to remain in the hospital until the doctor releases you.” Parker adjusted the sling back in place. “As a husband, I understand your need to be with Reese.”

Lee took a few precious minutes to regroup and let the drugs still running through his system create that floaty, on the clouds feeling, that softened the ache in his side. He didn’t dare rest long. Reese needed him.

He looked at Parker. “I’m glad you understand.”

Lee reached over and grabbed a tissue from the box sitting on the portable table next to the bed. One firm tug and the needle in his arm lay on the bed. He pressed the tissue against the hole welling with blood.

Amid the shouts of displeasure, Lee rose and headed for the door. He made it to the lobby of the hospital before reality hit. He had no ride to whichever hospital Reese had been taken to. He reached down into his shorts pocket.

“Are you looking for this?” Tristen held up a small white bag with the hospital emblem decorating the side. The type of bag used to store a patient’s keys, phone and wallet. In his other hand he held Lee’s shoes. Damn.

Lee’s temper simmered before frustration fueled the embers into flames.

“Give me that.” Lee moved toward the little shit. He’d had enough of Tristen’s sarcasm and runaway mouth. The room tilted and Lee caught himself before he faceplanted against the tile floor.

Parker grabbed Lee’s uninjured arm. “Santos went to get our ride. Try to slow your breathing. If you pass out, none of us will stop hospital personal from wheeling you back up to your room.”

“I’m not going to pass out.” Lee jerked his arm from Parker’s grasp. “Nothing will stop me from going to Reese.”

Lee concentrated on the glass doors in front of him. Once he made it through them, he’d centered his attention on the SUV that had pulled up to the curb.

 

* * * *

“What did you say to Morgan?”

Roman stretched his legs to relieve his stiff muscles. Too much coffee congregated as though it were a lead weight in his guts. The previous afternoon and night had seemed endless. The tiny waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit only contained four chairs. Roman had let family members of other patients have them. Hospital hallway floors were not meant to camp out on. Roman’s body had decided to object to the misuse.

“Nothing.” Roman wiped his hand over his face and waited for the reaction that he knew was coming.

Jimmy’s tantrum the day before had been epic when it became apparent that no one wanted to accompany Isaiah to the hospital where Lee was having surgery. They all wanted to support Reese, not Lee. His feisty husband had let them have it with both barrels of spicy language intended to reprimand and instill guilt at their resentment of Lee. Roman still beamed with pride just thinking of how that scene had played out. His little bit had been magnificent.

“What?” Jimmy pulled away from Roman’s side. “Technically this is a rescue and Morgan opted out of it. Please don’t tell me that you believed all that garbage he was spouting about the children needing him and his skills are better suited in his computer room if we require his services? What a bunch of bunk.”

“It doesn’t matter if I believed him or not.” Roman watched Jimmy rub his stomach. The man had been doing that a lot lately.

Jimmy tipped his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Morgan gave me valid points for his decision to stay at the hacienda.” The corner of Roman’s mouth lifted, and he watched Jimmy’s answering sparkle light up his gorgeous green eyes. “Why would I make him come along when his conscious will do all the work for me? It didn’t escape my notice that Tatum was on the phone the entire plane ride. Morgan has moved on from his past with Reese and Lee. He just hasn’t realized it, yet.”

Jimmy sat back against the wall and chewed on his bottom lip. After a moment he chuckled and shook his head. His gaze shifted and locked onto Roman’s.

“Sometimes you still amaze me,” Jimmy admitted.

Warmth filled Roman’s chest. “That’s why I’m the leader of this team, little bit.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jimmy’s gaze narrowed. “What blows my mind is that you see and understand everything when it comes to the team and yet, with me, you’re blind as a bat.”

Surprise froze Roman in place. Where the hell had that accusation come from. His mind raced over the last weeks and found nothing out of the ordinary between him and Jimmy.

Before his could respond, Jimmy’s phone rang. As Jimmy swiped a finger over the screen, Roman caught a glimpse of Tristen’s name.

“Be ready, we’re almost there.” The urgency in Tristen’s tone sent Roman sitting up. “Tell Roman that Lee’s flew the coop. He refused to stay in the hospital.”

“What are you talking about? Where are you?” Jimmy demanded.

“We’ve turned onto the drive that takes us up to the front doors of the hospital you’re at,” Tristen answered. “Lee is on some heavy drugs and stung out. Parker is trying to keep him calm, and Isaiah looks ready to knock him out to shut him up. Tell Roman to get his hard as nails ass down here.”

“My husband’s ass is none of your business, brother,” Jimmy sputtered. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“What-ev-er,” Tristen replied.

Roman snaked his arm around Jimmy’s waist and stood, taking Jimmy with him. Once his still arguing husband was steady on his feet, he let Jimmy go and nodded at Rhys and Tatum, who were already on their feet and waiting. The two men flagged Roman as he headed toward the elevators. He’d stepped into the small compartment, ready to take them down to the lobby, when he realized someone was missing.

He turned around and through the still open doorway he saw Jimmy, standing all alone where Roman had left him. The cellphone lay on the floor at Jimmy’s feet. Jimmy’s face shown stark white, and his eyes were wide. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath, his hands clutching his stomach.

Their gazes met.

Roman jumped into action before he thought about it. His senses screamed danger. Something terrible was wrong with his little bit.

As Roman reached Jimmy, the man’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Roman caught Jimmy’s boneless body before he could hit the floor and scooped him up into his arms.  He never hesitated and whisked Jimmy down the hall. When he reached the ICU doors, he yanked one open and raced inside.

“I need some help here,” he shouted.

Men and women, adorned in white coats and colorful scrubs, swarmed from behind the large workstation and glass enclosed patient rooms.

A gray-haired man with round wire rimmed glasses urged, “Sir, bring him this way.”

Roman carried Jimmy into an empty room and laid him onto the bed. He let himself be pushed backward and out of the way. Instincts told Roman the situation was dire. His heart cried out a prayer that these people could give his Jimmy the help he needed.

An IV was inserted and an oxygen mask placed over Jimmy’s nose. The gray-haired man listened with a stethoscope to different places on Jimmy’s chest and abdomen while a woman in scrubs began cutting off Jimmy’s clothes.  

Roman’s fingers tightened into fists, the helplessness of the moment roaring in his ears. This was his heart. The keeper of his soul. The one who owned every cell of his being.

He tried to slow down his breathing. He tried to grasp onto his ingrained professionalism. To find the calm that had saved many lives. He tried to comprehend what was going on, and failed.

One of the men in white shouted. The words, “shock”, “surgeon” and “stat” filtered into Roman’s wavering understanding. For the first time in his life, a red haze of panicked emotions over-rode his usual steely resolve.

The people in the room began what seemed a choregraphed motion of movement. The rails on either side of the bed were lifted. One person started pushing the rapidly beating heart monitor forward while another grabbed the pole containing multiple IV bags. A man in scrubs stepped on a lever and the bed began to move.

Roman’s arm was grabbed. He looked down to find Rhys urging him to back out of the doorway.

“We have to let them pass, captain.”

Roman blinked and stepped out of the way just as Jimmy was wheeled past him. He reached out and managed a whisper of a touch on his arm. An unwanted voice in his head said this could be the last time he saw Jimmy alive. Roman shoved that thought away with a vicious thrust. He would fight the devil himself to keep his precious little bit, with him, in this world. That voice laughed. Jimmy’s fate wasn’t Roman’s to control.

“Excuse me.”

Roman found a young woman standing in front of him, holding an electronic tablet. When he couldn’t form a word of polite conversation she continued.

“The man you carried in here. Would you happen to know his name?”

“Jimmy,” Roman choked out. “James Earl Marshall. He’s, my husband.”

The woman nodded while her stylist flew over the tablet’s screen. “Does James have high blood pressure? Does he take any prescriptions?”

“No to both questions. And he prefers to be called, Jimmy.” He would always be Roman’s, little bit.

“Does he take recreational drugs, legal or illegal?”

A spark of anger had Roman asking, “What are you accusing him of?”

“Nothing, sir.” The woman met Roman’s gaze and held it. “We aren’t the police. Our job is to help. We can’t do that unless we have all the information.”

Roman took a deep breath to try and calm his ragged nerves. “Jimmy doesn’t take drugs. He does have a drink of alcohol socially once in a while.”

“Is there any family history of aneurysms?”

Roman’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that what’s wrong with him? Does Jimmy have an aneurysm?”

 

* * * *

 

Tatum James entered the elevator. The situation with Reese, Lee, and his husband, Morgan, was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

He turned and spotted Jimmy’s bent over figure, down the hall. He took in Jimmy’s ghost white face, the shine of sweat covering his skin, and his hands pressed against his abdomen. Beside him, Roman burst into action and ran to Jimmy, with Rhys following.

In Tatum’s years of medical service, he’d had to make many split-second decisions. Could he have helped Jimmy in any way? Maybe. On the other hand, Roman had already rushed the smaller man into the Intensive Care Unit.

Tatum let the elevator doors shut and pressed the lobby button. Given the fact that Lee had surgery the night before and had left the hospital without a doctor’s consent, Tatum decided his services were better suited, at the moment, to help with the circumstances he suspected were about to unfold in the reception area downstairs.

The phone in Tatum’s pocket vibrated and he pulled it out. Morgan, with his arms around their happy brood of a precious blond-haired little boy and four beloved black children smiled up at him.  The elevator doors opened to the lobby as he swept his finger over the screen.

“Hey, sweets.”

“The Uber driver is about to drop me off in front of the hospital,” Morgan stated. “Any news on Reese?”

“Roman is the only one allowed to visit him in the ICU.” Tatum left the elevator and headed toward the front entrance of the hospital. “He’s been going in and sitting with Reese until they kick him out. Reese is still on life-support, although he’s starting to breathe on his own.”

“Okay.” The tone of Morgan’s voice had grown quiet. “I’m here.”

The call ended and Tatum paused at the window beside the doors. A dark blue sedan pulled up to the curb and stopped. The back door of the car opened. Tatum would recognize those well-worn work boots anywhere. A jean clad leg and the bottom corner of a plaid shirt appeared.

At the same time, a large SUV parked behind the sedan. The passenger’s side backdoor opened, and Tatum watched Parker jump out. As his teammate went to open the front passenger door, Tatum grabbed a wheelchair sitting next to the doors and hurried out of the hospital.