by April Hunt
She shrugged off his tease with a chuckle. “Whatever. I’m just saying that it’s good to have Knox back home.”
At Roman’s noncommittal grunt, Zoey tugged him to a stop. “Stop speaking caveman and use your words, Roman.”
“You’ll yell at me for the words I want to use.”
Not oblivious to the underlying tension the other night at O’Malley’s, Zoey frowned.
When Roman returned home after his military discharge, he’d had it rough. Adjusting to life without both legs. Adjusting to life without the military. The only thing that seemed to put a spark of excitement in his eye was knowing the reality of Iron Bars was only three brothers away.
Zoey reached for Roman’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Knox being home is a good thing, isn’t it? You guys wanted Iron Bars to become a family establishment and now that he’s back, it can be.”
“He’s not staying, Zoey. You remember that little fact, right? DC’s nothing more than a detour. No point in hoping for things that we have no control over.”
“If I lived by that philosophy, I should’ve just called it quits after my first surgery and been happy living in a plastic bubble.”
He guided her into side hug. “That’s different. You’re meant for a hell of a lot more.”
“Maybe Knox needs a little time to realize that he is too.”
“You give him more credit than he deserves.”
“Maybe. But my mom raised to me look to the positive. Where did yours go wrong with you?” Zoey teased.
Cindy Steele was the world’s best mom, second only to Zoey’s.
Roman chuckled. “I’ll ask her the next time she calls.”
“I’m just saying that nothing good comes from expecting failure. All it does is cause a lot of grief and aggravation. And not to mention that if you believe something won’t work, it oftentimes doesn’t.”
“But if you always go around looking on the bright side, disappointment is just around the corner, ready to smack you in the face like a two-by-four.”
Roman tore his eyes away from her and focused back on his coffee.
She bit her tongue, barely avoiding asking him who—besides Knox—had disappointed him. The pensive look on his face told her to let it be—for now. “I’d rather suffer a bit of disappointment than walk through life always thinking the worst.”
Roman gifted her a gentle smile and dropped an arm over her shoulder. “And that’s why we all love you so damn much, sweet pea.”
They settled into a comfortable silence as they walked, eventually turning toward Georgetown University Hospital. A grandiose mixture of historic landmarks and modern contemporary, the six-floor hospital had been her home away from home for as long as she could remember.
More times than she could count, she’d missed classmates’ birthday parties because of doctors’ appointments, and couldn’t participate in gym class because of post-operative restrictions. Blending in with your peers was difficult when your limitations made you stand out.
It wasn’t until recently that she vowed not to let those limitations define what she could do. It was one of the reasons why she’d kissed Knox.
“Well, this is me.” Zoey stopped at the entrance to the cardiology offices.
“What’s over there?” Roman’s gaze shot down the block. “It looks a little…”
“Charred?” Zoey followed his gaze toward the building that could’ve provided the backdrop for an apocalypse movie set. “The old cancer wing. I don’t think you were back in DC yet when the fire happened. They had plans to try and restore it, but it fell through. I’m not sure why.”
“That’s prime DC real estate.”
Zoey chuckled. “Already planning on opening an Iron Bars Two?”
Roman grinned. “You never know. I could make it Liam’s pet project and get him out of my hair. That way we’d both come out winners.”
“Well, I know I’m going to be late if I don’t move my rear end.” Zoey didn’t give him time to escape into the crowd, squeezing him in a tight hug.
Unlike last time, he hugged back, although briefly. “See you around, kiddo.”
Zoey watched him disappear around the corner before heading to Dr. Samuel’s office. A few tests and bloodwork, and she could get back to disinfecting her entire apartment.
“Zoey! Perfect timing.” Lisa, the medical assistant behind the desk, waved her toward the back exam rooms the second she stepped into the office. “You’re positively glowing today. It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” Zoey smiled. “Although please don’t take offense, but I wish it had been a little longer since I’ve seen you last.”
The young woman laughed and gestured toward the empty room. “None taken. Everyone who steps through these doors feels the same way. You know the drill. Arm out, fist clenched. It’s time for me to go vampire.”
Lisa drew five vials of blood and after sending the specimens down the pneumatic tube system to the hospital lab, wheeled the mobile EKG machine to the bedside. “Pretty painless visit today. EKG now, and then after Dr. Samuel reads it, he’ll do the sonogram to make sure everything’s functioning as it should be.”
It took more time to put on and take off the EKG leads than it did for Lisa to run a cardiac strip. After getting a good reading, the nurse left Zoey alone to wait for the doctor, and she used the time wisely, checking her voicemails and putting out a few fires for Adam, her replacement in the lab. At a knock, she tucked her phone into her pocket.
Dr. Phillip Samuel’s smile flashed her way as he stepped into the room. “If it isn’t my favorite patient. I have to admit my morning had gotten off to a pretty abysmal start, but it’s looking up now that I’m in your presence.”
Zoey snickered. “You say that to all of your patients.”
“Yes, but in your case, I mean it.” With deep dimples, the thirty-some-year-old cardiologist looked like Paul Walker in The Fast and the Furious. His high chiseled cheekbones were covered by blond scuff, which was a new addition since the last time she’d seen him.
“Was it your father who retired or you?” Zoey teased good-naturedly.
It had been Phillip Samuel’s father, George, who’d been her cardiologist since her first surgery. Sometimes, with Zoey’s mother’s approval, the senior doctor left his son in her hospital room while he made patient rounds. They’d played cards, or whatever travel game he’d brought with him that afternoon. Last year, the son took over for the father, both in their cardiology practice and as Zoey’s doctor.
Dr. Samuel rubbed his chin as he sat on the wheelie chair. “Trying something new. So far, the majority consensus is that I look more like a surfer than a doc—which of course drives my father crazy.”
Zoey lay back on the table as he prepped the sonogram machine. “How’s his retirement going? Is it everything he hoped it would be?”
“He claims to love it. It took a few months, but we’ve finally gone from five hundred phone calls a day to a measly one hundred. He still finds time in between golf games to call in and run the office staff in circles.”
Zoey followed the doc’s direction, holding her breath for some images and turning on her side for others. Dr. Samuel took pictures of her heart from every angle. Eventually he pulled his gaze off the monitor and flashed her a comforting smile.
“All done. Are you staying active?” he asked, wiping down the equipment.
“I go to the gym three times a week for lightweight exercise and I take a self-defense class Friday nights at the G Street community center. Oh, and sometimes I go for a light jog, nothing too stressful.”
“Self-defense, huh?” His attention piqued. “That sounds fun. Is it a women’s defense class?”
“Not in the sense that it’s catered to women. We have a few men who take the class too. And the age range is wide. My brother’s the instructor and he does a good job of modifying it to everyone’s specific needs.”
“G Street isn’t too far from my new place, so maybe I’ll c
heck it out.”
“You should—just make sure you’re prepared for female adoration, because there’s at least a handful of them that would love a chance to be paired off with a young cardiac surgeon—or a surfer.”
He chuckled, revealing his bilateral dimples as he helped her sit up. “If only my life was as glamorous as people thought.”
“So what’s the verdict, Doc? All good? Because I’ve been dying to train for the next Marine Corp Marathon, and I figured if I could—”
“Baby steps, Zoey. You’ll get there, but I’m not sure you’re there quite yet.”
“It’s been a year.”
“I know. And all in all, everything looks fairly well. I just don’t want you overdoing it too soon and losing all your progress.”
Zoey’s hands stilled in her lap. “Fairly well? Did you see something that kept it from being great?”
“It could be nothing, but there’s a bit more regurgitation at the pulmonic valve than was there six months ago. It could also be because your left-sided ejection fraction is slightly diminished.” Reading her panicked expression, Dr. Samuel squeezed her arm. “Slightly, Zoey. Practically undetectable. Have you been experiencing any of the warning signs? Shortness of breath? Palpitations? Excessive tiredness?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Good. That’s good. I do have one thing I’d like to try if you’re up for it. Amplify.” He handed her a medication information sheet just like the stack she already had at home.
Treatment purposes. Side effects. Special precautions.
“This is something new?” she asked, scanning over all the bullet points.
“So much so that most pharmacies don’t yet have it stocked. I’d like to try adding it to your medication regimen.”
“It won’t mess things up? It took us a long time to get my cocktail right. I’m not so sure I want to mess with that.”
“That’s the beauty of Amplify. It’s not a cardiac med. It gives the medications you’re currently on a bit of a boost…helps them be more efficient. Think of it like a vitamin for meds. No need for close lab monitoring like with Heparin. No daily injections. And it may not be readily available to pharmacies yet, but it’s gone through more than adequate regulation trials.”
“Sounds too good to be true. Where do I sign up?”
Dr. Samuel grinned. “I knew you’d be up for it…which is why I made sure to sweet-talk our pharmacy rep into a month’s worth of free samples.”
He unlocked a medical cabinet and pulled out a small orange prescription bottle. “One pill twice a day, and then I want you here for a one-month follow-up. And you know the drill—any of those nasty symptoms start developing…you call.”
“Of course,” Zoey agreed. She gave the doc an apprehensive smile. “You’re sure there’s no big problems?”
“No big problems.” He helped her off the exam table. “We’re doing this as a precautionary measure. That’s all.”
“Right. I know.” She plastered a smile to her face as she said her goodbyes and checked out with the front office.
The abundance of caution angle wouldn’t keep her mom and Cade off her back. When her cell phone rang, lighting up with her mom’s number, she was still trying to figure out a way to spin her update in a positive way.
“Are you sure you don’t have a latent psychic gift?” Zoey asked in lieu of a greeting. “I just stepped out of the office and turned on my phone.”
“We were sitting here chatting about you and noticed the time,” Gretchen Wright answered.
“And by we you mean—”
“Me!” Cindy’s Steele’s voice came on the line. “Now get with the talking, sweetheart. How did it go?”
“The time? Well, first the thin hand makes a quick sixty-second tick around the clock and then the long black hand moves one small notch,” Zoey teased. “And then—”
“Zoey Mae Wright, you know what Cindy was asking.”
She chuckled, loving her mom’s antics. “I do. And everything’s fine. EKG normal. Sono fine. Doc Samuel added a new med to my cocktail and I’m a free bird for another month.”
“Why did he put you on something else? Has your cardiac output diminished?” Her mom caught the abnormal quickly.
“Nope. It’s not even a cardiac medication,” Zoey said truthfully. “It’s just something to beef up the performance level of all the other ones.”
“Well, you can’t fault me for worrying.”
“Us,” Cindy added.
“I don’t fault you—either of you. I love you both. Even when you worry for no reason other than to say that you’re worried.” Zoey smiled, glad neither woman could see her. One look in her eyes and they’d see the truth.
Abundance of caution or not, uncertainty gnawed away at her stomach lining.
Last year, five consecutive years of excellent health had changed with the snap of her fingers…and her mitral valve. It was hard not to be a little wary, but that didn’t mean she needed to share that worry with everyone else.
“You had a break-in at your apartment, and you think I worry needlessly?” Her mom sighed on the other end of the phone. “I swear, you and your brother have each had a hand in turning me gray before my time. It’s my job—”
“To worry. I know.” And it had been one she’d performed enthusiastically since Zoey and Cade had first walked into her house at the ages of five and eight. Gretchen Wright never once made them feel as if they were a responsibility or a state paycheck.
They’d been family even before the adoption became official.
“Liam’s already installed an awesome alarm system, and Grace and I are clothing shopping again tonight to get what we couldn’t find yesterday. I’m all set. Really.”
“Fine.” Her mom didn’t sound too convinced. “But before you rush me off the phone, don’t forget about the BBQ next weekend. It’s been far too long since we’ve had everyone under the same roof. And remind Grace that her presence is mandatory. No silly excuses because she’s afraid to be in the same room with Cade.”
Zoey smirked. Grace wouldn’t be able to get out of a Gretchen ultimatum no matter how hard she tried. “Maybe I can convince her by reminding her that she can always push him into the river if she gets sick of him.”
Her mom chuckled. “Hey, whatever works to get her there.”
“And Knox,” Cindy chimed from the other end of the phone. “My eldest seems to have woken up and forgotten how to return a text message, so if you could remind him about the BBQ too, that would be great.”
Zoey’s steps slowed to a halt. “Um…sure. I don’t know if I’ll be running into him before then, but if I do, I’ll say something.”
Part of her was upset over the possibility of not seeing him. The other half wanted to retain some shred of pride…which meant physical distance. Maybe he’d forget about the family picnic.
In the same second she thought it, she realized it wasn’t likely. Just like she’d never do anything to displease Gretchen, he’d never do anything to earn his mother’s ire.
An eerie shiver slithered down Zoey’s spine. She scanned the sidewalk for the source, certain someone had to be staring, but there wasn’t anyone other than locals hurrying to their morning destinations.
No gawkers. No stragglers.
Zoey pocketed her cell phone and prayed the Metro wasn’t still delayed. The last thing that would make that under-a-microscope crawling sensation go away was standing around a sublevel station waiting for a late train.
Only one thing cured the stress-induced tightness in his chest, so he booted up his laptop and waited, fingers tapping on his thigh, to see Her. He leaned back and enjoyed the weight of the day sliding off his shoulders as one image after another blinked into focus.
His Heart, towel wrapped around Her slender body, padded barefoot from Her bathroom to Her bedroom. Oblivious to his admiration, She stopped in front of Her mirrored dresser, Her back facing him, and dropped the towel.
The sight of a ro
se-tipped breast pulled a shuddering sigh from his lips. She was exquisite, the soft contours of Her back and bottom nothing short of artistic perfection. Even the dark pigmented line bisecting Her chest didn’t detract from Her beauty. If anything, it heightened it, a physical sign of her inner strength.
All too soon, She pulled a long-sleeve top over Her head and hid Her body from view.
From behind him, angry screams and profanities poured from around the dirty rag shoved into the prostitute’s mouth. He’d gagged her an hour ago, unable to tolerate the foulness she oozed from every pore.
“You are nothing like Her.” He stood, pointing to the image of Zoey playing on the screen. “You could never be anything remotely close.”
Fisting the woman’s brittle blond hair, he yanked her off the metal bed, and her legs, unable to bear her body weight, collapsed. He dragged her across the floor. Halfway across the room, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her body fell, limp and lifeless, in his hold. He carried her into his plastic-lined Purification Room, where he settled her on the table and checked her pulse.
Nothing.
Soon, her heat-flushed skin would grow cold.
He’d underestimated her resistance to drugs, not factoring in the aged track marks on her arms. Purely his own mistake, and one he wouldn’t make again.
This was the part he enjoyed the most.
He pulled gloves onto his hands and prepared his cleansing agent. He didn’t need to look it up anymore. Strong enough to dissolve the toughest of impurities, yet gentle enough not to harm the body, it served its purpose well.
Once the distinct odor of chemicals permeated the air, he cut away the woman’s bloodied clothes, dumping each piece into a bucket to be burned later. With the dirty work finished, he turned toward his tools, already laid out and ready for use.
Sponge. Grooming pick. File. Brush.
And this time, the necklace.
Its use seemed fitting, a secret between him and His Heart; his promise to Her that no matter how far off Her path She slipped, he’d remain devoted to their future. He didn’t care how long it took or how many needed to be sacrificed.
Cleanse and rinse. Clean and care. Starting from the head and traveling to the toes, he washed and bandaged, easily losing himself in the methodical movements he’d become accustomed to.
