by Sherie Keys
Ricky pushed himself up and dove after him, landing on the younger man with a thud. He tried to wrap his arms around Michael to render him powerless, but Michael managed to pull an arm free and swung a powerful right hook into the agent’s nose. He fell back, blood streaming down his face as he clutched at the broken nose, then pushed forward as Michael went to stand up and kicked him right in the ribs. Michael’s breath whooshed from his lungs as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, and Ricky used the pause to grab at his neck.
There was a sudden shadow of movement in the window, and Michael looked up to see Catherine land in a crouched position, her gun raised at Ricky.
“Don’t you fucking touch him.” She cocked the gun and pointed it right at Ricky.
His hands went up instinctively, and he sneered as he looked back and forth between the two lovers.
“Or what will you do about it, Missy? Shoot me? I dare you.” He was breathing heavily from the fight, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he flinched a finger.
“Don’t test me.” she replied, stepping next to Michael as he rose to his feet.
“Look, Ricky I don’t want anyone to get hurt, so why don’t we—”
In a sudden flash, Ricky rolled down to the ground and grabbed the gun from the floor. The movement startled Catherine, and she pulled the trigger without hesitation, her aim in his general direction. At the same moment, Ricky lifted the gun toward Michael’s heart, releasing the bullet from the chamber with a bang. The shot from Catherine’s gun went wide and landed in Ricky’s shoulder. He screamed and his aim faltered, the death shot meant for Michael’s heart going down and straight into his thigh.
In an instant, it was all over. Both men lay on the ground, bleeding from the gunshot wounds that pierced their bodies. Michael groaned and hissed as he tried to move his leg, while Catherine knelt down and tore off the jacket she had been wearing.
“Don’t move,” she told him.
“Not really an option,” he hissed out through gritted teeth.
She chanced a glance over to Ricky. The gun had fallen away from his hand, and he was bent over in agony in the door frame. His eyes met hers, half lidded and glazed. He was losing blood fast, and she knew if she didn’t help him, he could die.
“Don’t do it,” he whispered, as if reading her mind.
“Help you?” she questioned in a harsh tone.
He nodded and coughed, “No point, I’m just going to get locked up in a cage if I survive.”
She looked to Michael. He was bleeding much slower, the metal having missed any major arteries. She tore the jacket in half, using her teeth to loosen the seams, then went to Ricky and began to wrap his arm.
“Sorry, against my oath.”
He glared at her for a few moments, their exchange silent, and then as she tied the knot, he faded into unconsciousness.
Michael peered over. “Is he dead?” his tone was somewhat hopeful.
She sighed. “No, this will help a bit, but he needs to get to an ER right away. Now let me see you…”
She pulled the flashlight from his pocket and turned it on, getting a better view of his leg. The hole was a bloody mess, but she saw a small glint of metal buried deep in the flesh. Then her breath hitched. “Shit.”
“What?” Michael asked in concern.
She was quiet for a moment then stoically looked into his eyes, “I need to get this bullet out as soon as possible. It’s right next to a major nerve and artery, if you move too much, it will hit one or the other. I’m going to the medical supply room. Do not, and I mean DO NOT move while I’m gone.”
She leaned in and kissed him, then took off into the house toward the supply room. Michael watched her go, feeling cold and tired. He tried to call her name, get her to come back, but slipped into darkness as the blood loss took its toll.
***
Catherine raced down the long, white stone corridors, her footsteps slapping the tiles loudly, sending echoes throughout the empty house. She couldn't lose him—that was her only thought right now. That bullet was dangling his life before her eyes, and she knew at any moment it could burst a vital artery or damage the entire nerve. But she could fix this, she had fixed this multiple times before becoming a brain surgeon. Her days as an intern in the ER had meant hours extracting bullets from victims in New York.
Her head was pounding. Everything in her mind screamed at her to hurry, and anxiety clawed at her to imagine a future without Michael. But she fought it all back—she knew she had this. Years of training had brought her to this moment, and in a calmness she had never felt before, she felt the world slip away. As she reached the medical supply room, she grabbed the gauze, the tweezers, the tools of her trade. She pulled out a cart and threw it all in, then rushed back to the room Michael lay in.
“Ok, I’ve got it. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but you just have to trust me,” she told him as she entered the room.
There was no response. Her eyes narrowed and she looked down, realized he was passed out, his face pale and drenched in sweat.
“Fuck.” She scurried to his side and took his pulse. It was weaker than before.
She took the light and shined it on the wound. The swelling had increased, and so had the amount of blood pouring out.
“No, no, no…” she whispered as she pulled the supplies from the cart.
The swelling had pushed the artery and bullet together. It was starting to burst, and she realized that she had mere minutes before it was completely sliced open, causing him to bleed out. Her glance went to his handsome face, and she felt the tears well in her eyes. She reached down and gently squeezed his cold hand, the warmth having drained from it with his blood. She took a deep breath and held back her emotions; she let the clarity fall over her, and with a nod, she got to work.
The Final Chapter
The wound was deep and bloody, and her equipment was limited. As she held the flashlight between her teeth, she slowly inhaled and tried to calm her shaky nerves. Her fingertips quivered, and now more than ever, she wished she had the robotic assist. She let the breath go and relaxed. She knew she could do this—it was just like every other time. She just couldn’t think about the fact that it was Michael beneath her gloved hands; she had to focus on the task. She furrowed her brows in concentration, and her eyes flashed in excitement as she saw the glint of the blood-soaked bullet.
“There you are, you son of a bitch.” the words were muffled from the light lodged between her teeth, but she felt herself smile as she cinched her tweezers around the metal object.
With a slow, steady hand, she gently worked to pull it from the muscles, careful to keep it away from the artery it had begun to slide into. The wound was bleeding heavily, and with her other hand, she applied gauze and pressure to keep the blood in. Inch by inch, the tweezers revealed the metal lodged in his leg, and her careful movement avoided the tangle of veins, muscle, and torn flesh. She hoped there was no nerve damage, but they wouldn’t know that until they saw him at the hospital.
The end of the tweezers finally slid free of the wound, and for a moment, she simply stared at the tiny, piece of metal that had caused so much pain and misery. It dripped hot, red blood as she looked at it. Eyes narrowing, she grew warm with anger and glared at Ricky. Then she shook her head and sighed as she dropped the offensive slug on the ground. The clink of it hitting the floor was a relief to her ears, but there was more work to be done. With renewed determination, she got to work repairing the damaged, leaking artery.
Her eyes burned as she squinted into the bed of bloody, mauled flesh and searched for the seeping artery. With patience and slow work, she found the hole his life was slipping from, “There you are,” she whispered as she clamped off the rest of the artery.
Her fingers fixed three tiny stitches where the small tear spilled out crimson liquid. The minute knots were hardly visible even as she leaned in to inspect her work. With a little tug of the string, she closed it, and the bleeding began to stop. She f
elt herself relax, and then got to work closing up the rest of his wound.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it seemed to go by slowly. With each dragging second, her hands hurried to close the gaping hole in his leg. She wanted nothing more than to see him back to normal, his big frame standing tall, that gorgeous smile on his handsome face. At that thought, she pushed herself a little faster and felt the clock tick a bit slower.
The sound of sirens could be heard approaching. She quickly looked to the window as they grew louder and louder. Lucas must have gone to get them—the phones had been cut, and her guess was that Ricky had disposed of his cell phone. She worked on as the bustle outside grew busier—the clank of the gate opening, followed by the screech of wheels as cars hurried up the drive. Her eyes went to Ricky. He was still breathing as he lay on his back with his shoulder bandaged. She could only hope this was the last time she ever saw him.
The sound of the doors bursting open cracked in the hall, and Lucas’ voice called out, along with several others.
“In here!” she yelled, eyes not moving from her work.
A team of officers, led by Lucas, came barreling through the hall, then screeched to a halt as they saw the two unconscious men on the floor, surrounded by blood. Lucas gave her a look of concern.
“He’s okay, but we need to get him to the hospital.”
The team responded in an instant, the officers calling out to the medics in Spanish as she closed the last stitch on his skin. They brought a gurney in, and the paramedic looked at her quizzically.
“Are you a doctor?” he asked, eyes curious.
“Yes, he’s stitched up, but he needs blood, he’s lost a lot.
He turned to his partner and called out instructions. Then they placed him on the gurney and began to load him up. Ricky was hauled off in another ambulance, and she certainly hoped he was chained up upon waking.
She followed Michael as they loaded him up, tears threatening to fall as she watched him lay there. She wanted so badly to see his dark blue eyes open, the color return to his skin, and that smile she had come to love so much spread across his face. In a moment, he was gone, and she and Lucas were left standing in the drive as the officers bustled around them to secure the scene.
She shook as she looked to Lucas and tried to distract herself with questions. “Where are the guards?”
“Ricky tricked them into going into the stable out back then gassed them. The other medics are there now. They’re just coming to.”
“Damn, what about Alberto and Rascal. Are they okay?” Catherine felt the anxiety of something happening to them make her shake harder.
He nodded. “They’re okay. Alberto didn’t come over here today. I told him to stay home with Rascal.”
Lucas turned and pulled her in a tight hug as she began to sob, the exhaustion and absolute chaos of the night finally filling her with cries. The tears flowed easily as she quivered in his arms.
“I know, I know. But he’s going to be okay, I promise. We Francis brothers are fighters, you know that.” Lucas held her tight, and all she could manage was a nod.
He pulled away and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, let's head to the hospital.”
They walked slowly to the car, the lights behind them flashing red and white as the officers worked. She gave a final look back, and then ducked into the car to go find Michael.
***
The morning light streamed through the window, the warmth a strong indication of the hot summer to come. Michael felt the heat and tried to brush it away. Catherine must have pulled the curtains open. He tried to call out, but his throat was dry, rough, and sore. He opened his eyes, surprised they were so swollen and glazed. He felt a moment of panic go through him as he was greeted by the sight of a white room, rather than his bedroom.
“Shhh, shhh. You’re okay, Michael. I’m here, handsome.” Catherine’s voice pierced the veil. He looked over and saw her beautiful face beaming at him, her eyes a bit swollen as well.
“Where am I?” he asked quietly. A movement in the other corner caught his attention, and he turned to see Lucas smiling at him.
“You’re at the hospital. Do you remember what happened last night?” Lucas asked as he leaned next to his brother’s bed.
Michael felt the memories coming back, slowly at first and then in a sudden flood of images—Ricky Barber, the lights going out, the fight, the gun and getting shot in the leg, then Catherine fading away into the hall as everything went black.
“Shit.”
Lucas and Catherine chuckled. “Yeah, not one of our best nights,” his brother responded.
He looked down to his leg. It was elevated and bandaged, but he was surprised he didn’t feel any pain. He went to move it a bit, but Catherine shot him a look.
“The pain meds will make you brave, don’t be fooled. That thing is going to take some time to heal.” She raised a brow at him, but he nodded in agreement.
“What happened to Ricky?” he asked, his voice growing stronger as his head began to clear a bit.
Lucas shook his head. “Not sure yet, your lawyer is on his way.”
“Oh, good. Maybe he can fix this.” Michael sighed and closed his eyes. Catherine’s warm hand slid into his, squeezing it tightly.
“We’ll get it figured out, try not to worry too much. We’re just happy you’re okay.”
He opened his eyes back up and saw her smile, felt himself relax, then nodded. She leaned down and kissed him softly on the lips, and in response, he reached up to caress her face, his strength increasingly renewed.
“Thanks, beautiful,” he said as she pulled away.
The door to the room opened and all three looked to see a tall, slender man with a shiny, balding head and thin glasses enter. He was dressed in a sharp suit with shined, black leather shoes and a couple of gold rings. His face was aged, with deep wrinkles set in his jowls and around his watery, green eyes. He reached out a hand to Lucas, who took it and greeted the man.
“Mr. Francis, it looks like you’ve had better days,” the man stated simply as he pulled up a seat. He reached over Michael and shook Catherine’s hand. “Dr. Robinson, I’m Michael’s lawyer,” he introduced himself.
“Dr. Ruby, nice to meet you, Dr. Robinson.”
He gave a small smile, then returned his eyes to Michael.
“Just to clarify for confidentiality, you give your full permission that everyone in this room can hear the details of your case I’m about to give?”
Michael nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Alright, let's get started. First, Ricky Barber will no longer be working for the Federal Bureau of Investigations. We’ll be taking him to court on multiple charges, as will the bureau itself. He breached his contract with them as soon as he went after you alone and could face up to a life sentence for that alone.”
Lucas and Michael fist bumped, and Catherine gave a small laugh at their gesture of victory.
“As for your case, Mr. Francis, I have some good news. A witness stepped forward after hearing Ricky Barber had been arrested. It turns out he was silencing her with threats. She reported to the Supreme Court this morning, and they made their decision today. Your name has been fully cleared as of…” he looked at his wristwatch, “one hour ago. You can return to the States at your leisure.”
The three of them stared at him in stunned silence. While they knew Ricky would be facing charges, none of them had any idea that the case had experienced such a rapid change. Michael looked to his brother, then to Catherine.
“I’m not an exile?” he said out loud, as if trying to wrap his head around the concept.
He looked to Dr. Robinson. “You’re sure?”
The man peered over his glasses, his stoic face unchanged as he gave a nod. “I’m sure, Mr. Francis. It’s what you pay me good money to be sure of.”
Michael looked back and forth, a smile spread over his face as he threw his fists in the air. “I’m not an exile!”
; “You’re not an exile!” Catherine shouted, her face beaming as she threw her hands up, then reached over and pulled him into a tight embrace.
The lawyer stood up and straightened his coat, then turned around and headed toward the door. He looked back at the smiling bunch and gave a wink. “Try to stay out of trouble now, Michael.”
He closed the door behind him, and Michael looked to them, the grin on his face not fading from his lips. Catherine kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to ever let him go.
