Controlled Burn- To Publish

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “They take those knives out, she’s going to bleed to death,” I whispered. “She’s going to die.”

  “They know that,” Luke said gently. “They’re ready.”

  Paramedics, two of them, came into the room with a gurney and a go-bag.

  They were ready.

  As ready as two paramedics could be when faced with something as momentous as this.

  I watched as they worked on her. Got every single knife removed from the wall behind her, and then struggled with what to do with her limbs as they started on the sword that was through her stomach.

  My belly rolled as I saw a drop of blood roll down her naked belly, and down her left thigh.

  I saw red.

  ***

  Hours later, in a hospital located in Kilgore, Texas.

  “They delivered your daughter via cesarean at 0203 and immediately took her to the NICU where she’s been set up on a machine that’s breathing for her,” the nurse informed me. “From what we can tell, no damage at all had been done to the child, except one single cut from her temple to her ear.”

  She showed me a picture of our baby, and I took the Polaroid out of her hand. Dammit, she was tiny.

  Her head was the size of whichever nurse’s hands she was resting in—so fucking small.

  The rest of her wasn’t much bigger.

  “The baby is doing very well for twenty-seven weeks—or at least that’s what she’s measuring at. She tried to breathe on her own when she was delivered, came out crying, but quickly lost her breath and we immediately got her on oxygen,” the nurse continued. “She weighed in at two pounds, thirteen ounces.”

  My stomach clenched. Hearing she was alive at all was a special kind of agony. Something I didn’t think would happen. Not after seeing that sword going through July’s abdomen.

  I’d had my suspicions about July being pregnant for about a week before I’d told her to go buy a pregnancy test.

  I knew she’d been religious about getting her shots. Hell, I’d gone with her while she’d had the last one done. So this baby surviving all of that—a conception despite birth control and then what she and July had been through not only a few hours ago, but over the last three months—told me that this baby was meant to be.

  “They expect that you’ll be able to visit with her in the morning when visiting hours start,” the nurse finished. “Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

  “No.” I rasped.

  She held her hand out, and I offered her mine in return.

  But she didn’t take my hand to shake it, she took it to attach a hospital bracelet to my wrist.

  A pink one.

  The tears that I’d been holding at bay only by sheer force of will threatened to spill over, and she left without another word.

  Obviously, she could see when a man was about to lose it.

  I stood up and walked to the potted plant in the corner of the waiting room.

  The one I’d become intimately acquainted with in the last hour and a half.

  With my hands placed flat against the wall, I bent over and tried to breathe through the tears, but something was blocking my airway, making it nearly impossible to draw in a breath.

  Something big slammed down on my shoulder, and I turned only my head as a breath tore into my lungs.

  Wolf was standing there, his own eyes red rimmed.

  He’d been through just as much hell these last three months as I had. We’d become as close as friends could possibly become.

  “What’d she say?” he wanted to know.

  I held out the Polaroid—a picture I hadn’t realized I was still clutching—and showed him the photo that the nurse had given me. His eyes warmed.

  “She’s beautiful,” he whispered gruffly.

  I nodded, my lungs screaming for air now.

  “Breathe, motherfucker,” Wolf said, slapping me on my back. “Just think about all the boys you’re going to be beating back with a stick when she turns eighteen!”

  A laugh burst free of my throat, and the breathing thing became easier after that.

  “I’m going to fucking ruin them if they hurt her,” I promised him.

  Wolf’s grin was almost contagious.

  “You’ll, of course, have to get in line. It’s an uncle’s duty to do the dirty work,” he informed me seriously.

  I snorted and moved until I ass planted into the nearest chair, my hands going up to my hair to fork through the way too long locks.

  My hair was nearly brushing the collar of my shirt, and had July not adored it long, it would’ve all been shaved off quite a few days after I reconnected with her again months ago. Now it was so long it was indecent, and I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  In fact, other than the basic hygiene of showering, brushing my teeth and using deodorant, I hadn’t done a damn thing when it came to my appearance in so long I couldn’t even tell you what I looked like anymore.

  “What about July?” Wolf asked carefully.

  “The last I heard, she was still in surgery. The old chick up front is tired of me asking,” I told Wolf. “You go ask for me.”

  Wolf got up and did just that, and my eyes caught on the men across the room.

  The entire waiting room was filled with my family—firefighters.

  Then there was the new addition of six men dressed in their leather cuts declaring them members of The Uncertain Saints MC.

  They all looked grim, and it wasn’t helping me or my optimism.

  Wolf’s face as he came back, however, did.

  “She’s out of surgery and they’re taking her to recovery now,” Wolf said the second he got back to me.

  I stood up so fast that the blood rushed from my head to my lower limbs, making me dizzy.

  “Did they say…” I started.

  Wolf shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “They didn’t say anything other than that she made it.”

  I nodded and made my way to the old chick at the front who’d been staring at me with apprehension all night.

  Although that might be due to the fact that I had July’s blood covering my skin.

  I hadn’t been able to force myself to wash it off.

  Not even when I saw the reactions I was getting from everybody.

  “Can I go back?” I asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Your wife is in recovery. That’s the fourth floor. When you go to those elevators, hit the four button and turn to the right,” she said shakily.

  I nodded and turned to leave, not stopping to say any niceties to any of the men who’d waited there with me for the past four hours. I couldn’t talk yet. They understood.

  I hadn’t realized I’d even gotten to the elevator, let alone gotten inside of it, until the doors were closing.

  Luckily, in my fucked up state, I’d pressed the right buttons, and arrived at the nurses’ station within five minutes of leaving the waiting room.

  None of the nurses looked up.

  Not one of the five of them.

  “Excuse me,” I growled when impatience got the better of me.

  The one closest to me, as well as the other four, snapped their heads up and came alert the moment the words left my lips.

  My voice was raw and grave as I spoke, and I vaguely wondered whether my voice was going to stay like this.

  One lonesome night, a few months past, I’d fallen asleep for once, but I’d woken up in a pool of my own sweat and tears. I’d been screaming, with visions of July’s mutilated body being the topic of my dreams.

  I’d gotten up and had decided to burn off the fear and adrenaline of the dream by running through the woods outside my house. I got as far away from civilization as I could get, and then I just started screaming out my rage and terror for July.

  The screams that’d left my throat that night— while awake and asleep—had done something to my voice, and now it was hard for me to speak and
not sound like I hadn’t swallowed a glass of gravel.

  Not to mention, I’m sure some of their wariness was due to the fact that I had blood all over me and not just because of my voice. I’m sure the scowl permanently affixed to my face wasn’t helping matters either.

  “My wife,” I grated. “July.”

  The nurse at the far end of the room got up and walked around the counter.

  “This way,” she ordered, sounding professional. “You’ll have about ten minutes with her before visiting hours are over for the night.”

  “I can’t stay with her?” I inquired sharply.

  The nurse smiled at me.

  “No,” she shook her head. “Hospital policy states that no overnight guests are allowed in the ICU.”

  The NICU and the ICU. Both places I’d spent time in quite a bit during my long career, but neither place had been one I’d needed to visit for personal reasons.

  And now I had two people there. One in each place.

  “How is she?” I asked instead of arguing.

  “Come inside, and I’ll go over her injuries,” she said, gesturing to a room at the end of the hall.

  Why so far from the nurses’ station? How would they hear her if she needed anything?

  Likely they wouldn’t.

  My wife would be forced to yell out.

  “She has a call button right here.” The nurse pointed to the remote that was near July’s right hand.

  July was laying in the bed, looking so fucking deathly pale, it was unsettling.

  “They had to amputate her left hand,” the nurse started to catalog her injuries. “Her left leg was repaired, but they expect to do another surgery on it soon. About a foot of her bowel had to be removed…” and on she went.

  In the end, they managed to save her digestive system. They managed to save the other three limbs. Her left hand and forearm were gone. Lucky for her, they’d been able to do a below the elbow amputation, so when she got her prosthetic, she’d have she’d have an easier time learning how to use it.

  “Her spine was nicked with the sword that was thrust through her abdomen.” The nurse finished, “But they don’t believe that she’ll have any mobility issues. Now, of course, they’re going to keep her still so she has time to heal. The plan is to keep her in a coma for the first forty-eight hours, at least.”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “She’s alive,” the nurse said softly, seeing me trying to breathe.

  My eyes went to hers, and I nodded in understanding.

  “I know,” I swallowed thickly, voice breaking. “I know.”

  She left me then, leaving me alone with the woman I was afraid I’d never see again, and I breathed out harshly.

  “I’ve missed you so goddamn much,” I whispered to her, moving close enough that I could feel the heat of her skin.

  She didn’t move when I touched her hand.

  Didn’t turn into the kiss I placed on her forehead.

  She also didn’t curl her fingers around mine when I took her hand in mine.

  She didn’t do anything.

  But breathe.

  She was breathing, and I should be thankful that she was at least doing that.

  Had we been only five minutes later, she could’ve died.

  She could’ve died within arm’s reach, and I wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it.

  “You need to hurry up and come back to me,” I whispered, dropping my forehead to July’s fingers. “Because I’m about to fucking lose it without you. I can’t breathe without you, baby. I won’t survive without you.”

  Chapter 21

  Red Bull may give you wings, but whiskey gives you balls. Which would you rather have?

  -Question of the day

  Wolf

  Two hours later

  “You ready to listen to what I have to say?” I asked my brother-in-law.

  Technically, he wasn’t really my brother-in-law—yet. July hadn’t said ‘I do’ or signed any marriage certificates, but it was only a matter of time.

  Time that July now had, thanks to me and that man over there.

  My eyes moved over to Dean, seeing him propping himself up in the corner of the ICU waiting room.

  He was exhausted but was still keeping vigil between the NICU and the ICU.

  He’d showered, at least.

  Something I’d told him he was going to go do whether he wanted to or not.

  He’d agreed and had been led into a staff shower room that Booth’s wife, Masen, had taken him to on the maternity ward.

  She’d even gotten him a change of clothes and something to eat out of the vending machine before sending him back.

  Now, here we were, and I couldn’t tell where Dean’s head was at.

  Over the last few months, we’d had some intense discussions. Out of those discussions grew the best sort of friendship imaginable—one forged by the hell we’d been through together. I guess you could say that our bond, this friendship we had, was one of the few bright spots to come out of this whole fucking nightmare.

  July had been taken from us.

  My fault.

  He’d smiled a total of five times over the last three months, and each of those times had been because of my son.

  Nathan.

  I’d neglected him too.

  It was always someone.

  First July, now Nathan.

  I just couldn’t fucking win. There was always a hard decision I had to make, and I hated that I was always being put in that position in the first place.

  Dean’s dark brown eyes came up to mine, and I could read in them the anger that was simmering just below the surface.

  “You’re never going to believe it, but it was Erin that called it in about hearing screams,” I said, surprising the shit out of him.

  He’d told me the tale of Erin, the crusty old lady that’d made it no secret that she hated him after he’d been forced to take her to the hospital during a routine call.

  In the past month, he ate dinner at her restaurant a few times a week and often had lunch there, too.

  She’d felt sorry for him, that was for sure.

  I’d never seen him and her make any sort of contact other than that, but it was easy to see that she felt deeply for him.

  Hell, the whole fucking town did.

  Everyone was rooting for him to get his woman—my sister— back and now I could finally say that he’d accomplished that.

  July may be badly hurt, even a little bit broken. But what she wasn’t was down.

  My sister would come back swinging, I’d put money on that fact.

  “You’re shitting me,” Dean said, surprise apparent in his voice.

  I shook my head. “Her house is about a…”

  Dean held his hand up. “Oh, I know where her house is. Remember?”

  I grinned, the first one to grace my face all day. “Yeah, I do.”

  “I can’t fucking believe it.” He stood up and started to pace.

  I watched him walk, and the men that were across the room watched him as well, both the men I’d called brothers over the last five years, and the new ones I’d made friends with during the last few months—the men of Kilgore Fire.

  “The rest you already know. She called the cops—and Peek, of all people,” I shook my head in confusion.

  “Why Peek?” Dean stopped pacing to look at me.

  I smiled. “He does her ink.”

  Dean’s laughter was a pleasant surprise. “I’m going to have to thank them both. That ought to be fun.”

  I grinned. “It should. I think you should let us all watch while you eat crow.”

  Dean sighed and started pacing again.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I feel like I should be out there looking for her still. It hasn’t sunk in that she’s actually here. Safe!” he admitted.

  I nodded. I felt much the same wa
y.

  But I actually did have something to do.

  The case I’d been involved in before July had been kidnapped—the one that was the reason I’d asked her to talk to Barrett in the first place—had blown wide open when we found July.

  A truck driver had been the owner of the house where we’d found July. He was Jensen’s brother and that relationship gave us the direct tie-in we needed to the stupid mother fucker.

  Barrett had no direct connection to any of this yet, but we were hoping that between July and Raven, another woman who was rescued with July, we’d get one. Likely, we’d get more than enough. We just needed to get both women awake and talking first.

  My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket, my eyes lighting when I read my boss’ text.

  “Gotta go,” I said. “Let me know the instant anything changes, okay?”

  Dean’s eyes narrowed on me.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked.

  He looked fucking mean.

  Even in bright purple scrub bottoms, he looked like he could rip someone’s throat out.

  He’d changed a lot over the last four months.

  No longer was he clean-shaven. He had a beard that rivaled mine and a scowl that never left his face.

  His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and my eyes were once again drawn to his arms.

  He had a couple of tattoos on his arms. One of which was hash marks on his right wrist counting the number of days July had been gone. It started at his wrist and had climbed up to his forearm.

  A grim reaper that was placed on one of our trips north after a sighting took up much of his left forearm, surrounded by a bunch of curly lettering I hadn’t asked the meaning of.

  Every time I even looked at it he’d move his hand to cover it, so I left his words to him, keeping my nose out of it.

  If he didn’t want to tell me, I’d respect him and not push.

  Now I could just wait until July asked him, then ask her.

  A smile broke out over my face, even at Dean’s intimidating stare down.

  “I’m going to issue a warrant for someone’s arrest,” I started walking.