Chapter Five

 My mom's cell phone is an old flip phone and the service providers no longer service that phone. Yesterday I spent 4+ hours picking up 2 new phones. Yes, I upgraded also. 

What a long, endless, time. Buying cellphones is worse than buy a car or house. By the time I got out of there I felt I had run a marathon.

The good news is that now I can write all day today. I hope I haven't jinxed it by writing that. 

Hope you enjoy this next chapter, Hope I finish the next chapter before next week. 

I love hearing from you and what you think of the story.

The tiny hairs on the back of Roman’s neck rose, and prickles of awareness danced between his shoulder blades. Danger stood behind him.

Roman continued to stare out the window and watched another person’s miniature segment of life playing out in the parking lot.

“This building is one of the few places where all who enter are changed,” he commented.

“I suppose,” Isaiah replied. “I never really thought about it before.”

Roman turned away from the window and looked at his friend. The lethal man’s expression gave nothing away. Roman struggled to find the words he needed to say. And failed.

“The rest of the team has arrived, Captain.” Isaiah’s gaze never wavered. “We’re here and ready.”

Bitter truth burned a hole in Roman’s belly. “Maybe I’m not ready to lead. Maybe I’ll never be ready again.” Roman glanced around the hospital hallway. “I should have known something was wrong. I failed.”

“Get off your pity pot and trot yourself down to surgery. The doctors will want to talk to you once they’ve finished.”

Roman’s body stilled. “What?”

“You’ve had your, why is this happening, moment,” Isaiah stated. “Quit treading water and be the big man.”

Roman raised one eyebrow. “Big man?”

“You’re the one we look up to.” A sneer lifted Isaiah’s lip. “Time’s up, Captain. Get your head out of your ass and be the leader this team and Jimmy need.”  

“But . . .”

“Buts are for cowards.”

Anger surged through Roman. He grabbed Isaiah’s shirt and shoved him up against the wall.

“You are one of the few people in the world, who can say something like that to me and live.” Roman jerked Isaiah’s shirt to emphasis his point.

“Welcome back, Captain.” A rare smile curved the weapons expert’s lips. “Let’s go down and see how many times Tristen’s tried to break into the operating room.”

Roman blinked and his anger disintegrated. He realized the debilitating fog that had rendered him all but useless, had cleared under Isaiah’s brand of sarcasm. His best friend knew him inside and out and had acted in the way Roman needed.

“Thanks.”

Isaiah nodded. “Anytime.”

Roman let go of Isaiah’s shirt, turned, and started down the hall toward the elevators. Urgency rose and rode him hard. He needed to be available, not hiding in the corner, for when the doctors were ready to discuss Jimmy’s condition. Reese and Lee were counting on him. He also had the members of his chosen family depending on him.

“Update,” he ordered.

 He listened as Isaiah reported the location of each member of his team. He raised an eyebrow when Isaiah admitted that he’d sent Morgan and Tatum to the ICU to keep Reese company.

Isaiah shrugged his wide shoulders. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

A quiet chuckle drew Roman’s attention.

“What do you say, Carson? Would you have sent Morgan and Tatum to look after Reese?”

“Isaiah knows what he’s doing,” Carson answered simply.

Roman had to agree. He could trust Isaiah to use good judgement in any situation. He found the idea of Morgan and Tatum assigned to support Reese intriguing but set those thoughts aside. Right now, his entire focus centered on the surgery ward.

 

* * * *

Cold dread haunted Tristen and turned every passing minute into a nightmare. He rubbed at the hot rush of tears streaming down his face. Hatred at the helplessness of the horrific situation threatened to take what little remained of his control. He couldn’t lose his brother.

Tristen turned toward the door and ran, only to crash into a solid wall of muscle. Arms captured him in their strong embrace and a heated breath touched his ear.

“Where are you going, my anjinho.” The smooth baritone of Santos’s voice wrapped Tristen in the solid security of home.

“I can’t…” Tristen searched to name one of a million things he couldn’t endure at this terrible moment. He gave up and looked into his husband’s dark eyes, pleading for the right answers, the right outcome. “Why? Why is this happening?”

“The doctors in this hospital specialize in emergency trauma.” Santos’s gentle fingers brushed away the long tangles of hair sticking to the moisture coating Tristen’s cheeks. “They will give us back Jimmy and Reese.”

Tristen wanted to believe Santos’s claim. His husband had always been straight with him even when a small fib would have been easier.

“How can you sound so sure?”

Santos shrugged one wide shoulder. “It is not their time yet.”

Tristen wasn’t about to question that statement. There were instances that his big Brazilian husband seemed to know stuff that Tristen wasn’t about to touch with a ten-foot pole. He’d stay in the here and now and leave the other misty planes of existence to Santos.

“Okay.” Tristen tried to step back and away from Santos. The man seemed to grow octopus’s arms when he chose, and Tristen remained where Santo held him.  “Since according to you, Jimmy is going to make it through this, the doctors won’t mind me checking to see how it’s going.”

“You will stay here, my querida.” Santos cupped the back of Tristen’s head and urged him to rest his cheek against the bigger man’s chest. The man’s heartbeat soothed his inner turmoil. “Jimmy’s job is to survive the surgery and yours is to wait for him.”

“Patience isn’t my forte,” Tristen complained. “I hate waiting.”

“I know, meu amor.”

The side door leading to the hallway opened. Tristen turned his head and rested his other cheek on Santos’s chest. He watched Roman entering the room with Isaiah and Carsen following. Tristen ground his teeth together. Roman reminded him of a big cat with his flexing muscles and powerful stride, that all seeing gaze scanning the room. He held back a bitter chuckle. Yep, he was ready to yank on the tiger’s tail.

“It’s good of you to finally show up,” Tristen commented.

Roman’s face could have been made of stone. “Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet.” Tristen turned in Santo’s arms and face Roman. “You should know that I talked to my mother, and she said that she had an uncle who died from an abdominal aneurysm. There were rumors in the family that her grandfather exhibited the same symptoms before his abrupt death in the barn one morning. Of course, back then they buried him without knowing why he’d died.”

The corner of Roman’s mouth tightened in response to Tristen’s information. One small reaction to a such a dreadful situation. Tristen wanted to slap him. He wanted to scream and shout. He wanted Roman to show something, anything, that he cared that Jimmy was fighting for his life.

Would he try to go after Roman? Hell no, he wasn’t a masochist, and he planned on being here for his brother, not lying in a broken heap on the floor.

Besides, if Roman took a swing at him, Santos would step in. Tristen figured that he and Santos probably wouldn’t win in a fight against the big guy, and Jimmy would be pissed that they dared to touch his precious husband.

“I’ll call Peggy and James once we know more of Jimmy’s condition,” Roman replied. “Did you contact Chip and Matt?”

Surprise quenched Tristen’s anger. He hadn’t thought to call his brothers. He supposed his mother must have, at least he hoped so. Damn, he had dropped the ball.

“I’ll go call them.” Tristen left Santos’s embrace and headed for the hallway, glad to get out from under Roman’s heavy gaze.

“Tristen.”

Roman’s voice stopped Tristen in mid-step.  

“Thanks for being here for Jimmy.”

Those pesky tears blurred Tristen’s vision. “He’s my brother. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“We both value your strength and support.”

Tristen’s lungs locked up. The big man had said what Tristen had needed to hear. The magnitude of the statement took his breath away and that inner strength Roman had talked about returned. He would wait for his brother, no matter how long it took. He would do whatever was needed to help Jimmy through this catastrophe. Tristen vowed that Jimmy would one day return to his beloved cranky self.

“Thank you,” Tristen replied, and meant it. “I’ll go make that call and be right back.”

At Roman’s nod, Tristen left the waiting room. In the hallway he pulled out his cell and searched the contact list. After finding the name he was looking for he put the call through.

“How is he?”

Tattered emotions cut off Tristen’s reply until the welcome weight of large hands rested on his shoulders. Tristen leaned back against Santos and took comfort in his rock, his very own superman.

“He’s still in surgery,” Tristen answered his big brother. “Did mom call you?”

“Yeah,” Chip replied. “Jimmy is strong, he’ll get through this.”

“I hope so.”

“Tristen.” Chip’s tone changed to take on a hint of defensiveness. “You know I’d be there if I could. We’re expecting a couple of important new foals to drop any day now and are in the middle of calving season. You know how it is.”

Chip had taken over the family ranch after their father had a massive heart attack and moved to the hacienda with their mother. Tristen had grown up working on the ranch. He’d spent many spring nights helping calves come into the world. Those messy, literally, shit-filled hours were crucial to the monetary wellbeing of the ranch. Every calf was worth potentially thousands of dollars.

Tristen may understand Chip’s point of view, but only so far. “You do have a foreman and capable ranch employees to keep things going for a little while.”

“Tristen, don’t nag,” Chip shot back. “It’s bad enough that mom thought I should jump on a plane the second she told me what was going on. You’re already there, Roman’s there. What the hell could I do. Besides, dad trusted me to keep the ranch running smoothly and profitable.”

For the space of one second, surprise froze Tristen’s mind, before it roared into overdrive. He was more than capable of reading between the lines of Chip’s excuses.

“What’s going on with the ranch?” Tristen demanded.

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

Right. Tristen wasn’t buying those tainted goods. “Spill. What happened?”

“Mary’s struggling with this pregnancy.” The exhale of a huge sigh came through the phone. “She’s accusing me of looking at other women. I keep telling her that her hormones are making her see things, but she’s threatening to pack up the kids and move back to her mother’s. I can’t afford to pay her off and keep the ranch if she divorces me.”

There were so many wrongs with that statement that Tristen didn’t know where to start. What a boogerass. Leave it to his big brother to stomp his size thirteen shit-covered boots all over a delicate situation.

“Let’s see, Mary is eight months pregnant while trying to keep up with a one and a two-year-old.” Mary had three miscarriages before giving birth to little Emily, and a year later, scrappy Kingston. “I know you adore the woman, so do your part and set her up on the sofa with a pillow under her feet, a box of chocolates, and the TV remote. Strap the kids into their car seats in that big old truck of yours and ride them around the ranch for a couple of hours. Let them pet a few calves or play with the latest batch of kittens.” Tristen huffed out a breath to show his exasperation. Damn, he was the gay brother telling the straight brother how to handle a woman. Just, damn. “Back rubs are good and forget the divorce talk. She’s your gift of a lifetime. Show her how much you love her. Think decent flowers and honest words, not dandelions and platitudes.”

“Fine.”

Such a small word held so many meanings behind it. Tristen let his lips curve into a smile. His big brother would be okay.

“I’ll keep you posted on Jimmy,” he promised.

“Thanks, bro,” Chip replied. “Take care of yourself. Mom doesn’t need another son getting sick.”

“Will, do.” With that promise, Tristen ended the call.

After a moment’s search and a swipe of a finger, he was listening to the ringing of his next call.

“Hello.”

“Did mom get through to you?”

“Yeah.”

Tristen ground his teeth in frustration. After his little brother had graduated from high school, Matt had seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Most phone calls went unanswered and explanations of where he was or what he was doing were ignored. Tristen had had enough crap. His nerves were shot, and his patience had left the building.

“Fine.” There was that word again. This time Tristen had stuffed a million frustrations into those four letters. “I’ll keep you updated on how he’s doing.”

“No need. I’m almost at the hospital.”

“What!”

Tristen waited for Matt to repeat what he had said. He couldn’t have heard his brother right the first time.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood when mom called,” Matt stated. “I just drove into the parking lot.”

Tristen would never call he brother a liar, but their mother must have called Matt almost an hour ago. No way his brother happened to be in the neighborhood. In the end, it didn’t matter. Matt coming to the hospital to support Jimmy was important. Seeing his little brother for the first time in years was important.

“We’re on the third floor.” Tristen managed to choke out.

“Sounds good, see you in a few.”

Santos took the phone from Tristen’s nerveless fingers before gathering him in that warm haven Tristen would never take for granted. Tristen looked up into his handsome husband’s face.

“Matt is here.”

Santos’s fingers tangled in Tristen’s hair. “It will be good to see your brother again.”

“Yeah.” Tristen caught Santos’s hand. “We’d better get back.”

Santos dipped his head and covered Tristen’s lips with his. As always, Santos’s kiss swept him away from all troubles and enfolded him in pleasure.

 

* * * *

His Amorzinho melted in his arms. Santos deepened the kiss. A hospital hallway may not be the best place for such signs of intimacy, but Tristen’s needs were and would always come first. Right now, Tristen needed comfort and the sense of security that only Santos could give him.

Tristen’s fingers twisted in Santos’s shirt. Santos ended the kiss in slow increments and raised his head. Tristen’s hazel-colored eyes may be red rimmed and swollen from his tears, but to Santos they were as gorgeous as always.

“Come, Amorzinho.” Santos traced a fingertip over Tristen’s cheek. “Let’s go see if the doctors have finished with Jimmy’s surgery.”

Tristen’s lower lip trembled. “Okay.”

Santos entwined their fingers and led his husband back into the waiting room. He found Roman with his hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans and staring at a small monitor mounted on the wall. They had been given a card with a number assigned to Jimmy. A glance at the monitor showed Santos that Jimmy’s number was highlighted in green, indicating that Jimmy was still in surgery. Blue would mean he had been moved to the recovery unit.

Isaiah sat sprawled in a chair with Carson tucked up against his side. Rhys had arrived while they were in the hallway. He was curled up in a corner chair and quietly talking on his phone.

At the other end of the large room a small group of people, all sporting red hair, sat talking to one another in low murmurs or staring at their phones. Every few moments, one would look at the monitor mounted on the wall near them.

Santos decided to usher Tristen to the small sofa next to Rhys when Roman’s body jerked before stiffening. As one, the team stopped what they were doing and moved toward their leader. Something was wrong. Santos searched the monitor. Jimmy’s number was no longer listed.

The door to the hallway opened and they all turned. Santos kept a tight rein on his emotions even as Tristen cried out. His husband broke away and ran into the arms of a tall muscular man.

Matthew Earl. Tristen’s little brother no longer resembled the skinny uncoordinated teen who had left for a so-called college years ago. Matt had grown into a man with a strong body and a hardness in his gaze that Santos saw in the mirror every morning and in the eyes of his teammates. A glance at Roman showed their leader assessing their brother-in-law.

 Santos knew what Roman saw. Hard edges not yet smoothed out by returning to society from the depths of an endless sun and sand hell. Lighter skin surrounding a mouth and jaws where a thick beard once grew. A newly shaved head, now covered with only a quarter inch of thick dark stubble.

Santos and Roman had kept track of Matt over the years. They knew he had returned from the Middle East four weeks ago. Their contacts had indicated that Matt, with the end of his mission, so was his time working undercover for the government. Santos had no inclination to dig into the incident that had sparked all of these endings. It was enough that Matt could renew his relationships with his family and start a new chapter in his life.

The phone on the small desk near the door rang and the lady wearing a light green hospital smock answered it. She spoke a few soft words before ending the call.

“Are any family of Jimmy Earl Marshall here?” she called out.

As one they all moved in front of her with Roman front and center. The woman’s gaze traveled over them in a slow appraisal. A frown formed.

“The doctor would like to meet with family members only in the private waiting room down the hall.”

“We are his family,” Roman stated.