by Maren Smith
“I’m going with him,” Brianna replied.
“I said we’ve got it from here,” he replied.
Great. The last thing she wanted to do was to play tug of war over a dying man, but she didn’t want to leave Phantom’s side until she was sure he was in good care.
“Where did you go to medical school?” she challenged him.
“Doctor Bradford is staying until he is in surgery,” Max ordered from beside her.
“Yes, Senior Chief!” the corpsman said, finally listening.
Brianna didn’t have time to be irritated over the ridiculousness of the situation. She watched in awe as the SEALs aboard the helicopter wordlessly worked together, lifting Hudson onto the stretcher, waving off the men who had approached. They would be the ones to carry their own. She ran alongside them into the hospital.
The doctor who appeared was better suited to deal with the situation than the young corpsman had been. Brianna was relieved to see him.
“Doctor Peter Hanover, I’ve got him from here.”
“Doctor Brianna Bradford,” she returned. “I know I don’t have privileges here but I would appreciate being kept in the loop if possible. I did a damage control survey onboard…”
The doctor looked at her and nodded, giving her permission to continue. She quickly rambled off her assessment of his wounds and Dr. Hanover grimaced, turned and hurried back to where Hudson had been taken. The exchange had taken under a minute.
Finished giving her report, she turned. Seeing Max standing there caused a sharp intake of breath, the image of him was almost terrifying. His arms were crossed across his chest, his feet firmly planted shoulder width apart, dried blood streaked his face, hands and clothes. He looked like a battle-hardened warrior, his expression fierce, his eyes flashing. In that moment, there was very little that resembled the boy she had known in childhood.
“Now what do we do?” she whispered. She didn’t like being on this side of the door. She felt helpless.
“Now, we wait,” Max answered. “Come here.”
She walked to where he stood. She was unsure of what she was supposed to do. They were in public, on a military installation. There were other men and women in uniform filling the hallways. What was her role right now? Anxiety filled her as she took her place at his side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tightly into him.
“I’m damned proud of you, Bumble Bee.”
“He saved my life,” she whispered. “He threw himself in front of me. Those bullets were meant for me not him.” She said the words out loud for the first time, making them real.
“In doing so, he saved my life,” Max said. “You are my everything. When I turned around and saw you covered in blood, in that split second of thinking you were hit…” he choked on the words.
Startled at the amount of heavy emotion in his voice, Brianna looked to see the tears Max was fighting back. It was then that she knew beyond the shadow of any doubt. He loved her.
“I’m okay. I wasn’t hit. I’m all right, Daddy.” The word rolled off her tongue, naturally. It just felt right. Covered in blood, standing in the middle of a hospital after one of the worst experiences of her life and she was at peace because she was in the arms of her daddy.
Brianna was sitting in a chair facing the entryway to the waiting room, Max pacing next to her, when Doctor Hanover entered two hours later. “I wish I had better news for all of you,” he said.
Brianna held her breath. Please don’t be dead. Please. She knew how much Phantom meant to Max. He had been mentioned many times as Max caught her up on his life. It was obvious how they were so much more than just coworkers. They were brothers.
“Just tell us,” Max gritted out. The two other SEALs who had been waiting with them gathered near to hear the doctor’s words.
“He’s alive.”
Brianna sank back into the chair, a gush of air releasing from her lungs. She knew being alive was just the first hurdle in the race, but it was the most important one. As a fellow doctor, she made sure to listen intently to what the doctor had to say. She knew Max might have questions later and she wanted to be there for Phantom during his recovery as much as possible.
“He is stable enough now to transport him via medical evac to Ramstein. Once they have him stabilized, they will move him to Bethesda where the real work will begin. He has a long road of recovery in front of him. I am not going to lie; it is going to be hard. We had to amputate his left leg right below the knee. That said”—he turned to Brianna—”you saved his life. If you hadn’t been in that helicopter, there is a good chance he wouldn’t be alive today. Great work.” The doctor said a few other things to Max before leaving the room but Brianna had tuned out.
You saved his life.
Did she though? Or did she cost him his leg? An acidic pit of bitter guilt settled into her stomach. She couldn’t help but wonder if the entire situation wasn’t her fault.
“There isn’t anything more we can do here tonight. Let’s get checked into the Navy Lodge and cleaned up,” Max interrupted her thoughts. She took his outstretched hands and let him pull her to standing.
“I’ll drive you two over,” one of the SEALs offered.
“Much appreciated.” Max nodded.
The ride to the Navy Lodge Hotel on base was quiet, each person lost in their own thoughts. Brianna was surprised to find that it was a regular-looking hotel, reminding her of a Holiday Inn back in the States. Max approached the front desk where he had to show his military ID to check in. The receptionist didn’t seem the least bit taken aback by the two people standing in front of her covered in dried blood, or if she was, she didn’t mention it. Soon, they were headed up to their room.
“Take your shoes off and let’s get you out of these clothes,” Max said, dropping both of their bags at the foot of the bed. His voice had changed the second they had crossed into the room. He had stepped effortlessly into Daddy mode. “While I’d love to run you a bubble bath, I think what we both need is a hot shower.”
Brianna was too drained, both emotionally and physically to do much in the way of thinking, let alone arguing with him. She kicked her shoes off and lined them up next to his boots by the door.
“Come here, Bumble,” Max called from the adjacent bathroom. The room was already starting to steam up from the hot water he had running in the shower. “Arms up, Bee.”
Lifting her arms, she let him remove her shirt and bra.
“Step out.” Max pulled her pants and underwear to her ankles.
After she obeyed, he quickly disrobed himself. Her gaze roamed his body, following a long line of dried, cracking blood from his shoulder to his forearm, Phantom’s blood.
Should be my blood.
“Let me test the water before you get in. I don’t want it to burn you.” He felt the water with his hands and reached down to adjust it some before stepping into the stream. His arms outstretched for her. “Come here, baby.”
The water hit her body but she didn’t feel it, she was numb. Max wrapped his arms around her for a second, holding her to him.
Lathering up the white hotel washcloth with the bar of soap, he directed her, “Arms up, Bee. Let’s get you good and clean.”
She mindlessly obeyed. She watched in morbid fascination as the red of the blood contrasted against the white of the cloth. Max wrung it out under the water just to repeat the action, again and again. How much blood was on her? Phantom had lost well over a liter of blood in the helicopter. She had been surprised he hadn’t exsanguinated.
“Turn around, sweetheart, let me wash your hair.”
Brianna turned to give him her back. She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see the water run red as he rinsed the events from the past several hours from her.
Chapter Eight
As Max washed Brianna’s hair, he could tell that something was wrong. He could feel it in the way she was acting, or rather, not acting. Of course something is wrong, idiot. You’ve both just been through an incredible trauma.
“I’m going to wash off real quick. Why don’t you get out and start drying off, Bumble? I want to turn the hot water up a bit and I don’t want to scald you.” Normally, he’d step out first, grab a towel, wrap her up in it and dry her off, but right now, he needed a moment of selfishness. He needed to feel the hot water pierce his skin. He hoped she understood. Her small nod of acknowledgement as she stepped out confirmed his gut instinct, something was wrong.
Reaching down, he flipped the nozzle counterclockwise as far as it could go. The water came out exactly as he needed, hot as Satan’s balls, piercing his skin, cleansing him. He was sanitizing himself. A ritual he had started after his first combat kill. Removing the invisible stain of blood of his kills from his body with every ounce of heat. Feeling the pain, the sweet pain of the barely tolerable level of heat was something he needed. Punishing himself for taking the life of another human, even if that human was an animal trying to end his life and the lives of the people he held dear to him. This ritual kept him humane.
He quickly sudsed up the washcloth and repeated the motions on his own body, grimacing as his best friend’s blood ran down the drain. Fucking Phantom. Of course he would use his body as a human shield to protect Brianna. That was the kind of man Phantom was. Is. The kind of man Phantom is. He corrected himself. Phantom was still alive and would stay alive, because of her. Because of his girl. He’d forever be in her debt. Her quick-thinking actions saved his best friend’s life.
He couldn’t believe that Phantom was sacrificing a leg in the process. What a raw fucking deal. He knew him better than he knew his own self most days. He wouldn’t take that well at all, but if anyone could overcome the obstacles and make something of himself, it would be Phantom.
Not until the water ran cold and his skin was flaming red did he turn it off and get out of the shower. He quickly towel-dried and wrapping it around his waist, he stepped into the bedroom. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. In the middle of the bed, naked as the day she was born, Brianna was huddled; her knees to her chest, arms tightly hugging them, wet hair clumped and dripping around her, water droplets sticking to her goose-pimpled skin, a blank look on her face, staring at the wall in front of her. A lost little girl. The image pulled at his heart strings. Bending, he grabbed the still very dry towel off the floor at the foot of the bed and knelt behind her. Towel-drying her hair, he spoke in deliberately calm, tender tones.
“You look cold, Bumble Bee. Here, let me warm you.” He draped the extra blanket from the end of the bed around her shoulders, tucking it around her while he continued to dry her hair. He worried that she might be going into shock. “What are you thinking about?”
“It’s my fault.”
The whispered words were so quiet he had to strain to hear them. What was her fault? What was she talking about?
“What was your fault, Bumble?”
“Phantom being shot.”
Max stilled his hand. Of course it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t pull the trigger. She hadn’t organized a group of guerrilla warriors who hated America and everything it stood for. She didn’t sign up for the military to fight and defend her freedoms. How was any of this her fault? What had gotten into her sweet head that would make her claim responsibility for this tragedy?
“Baby, Phantom getting shot isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is. Do you hate me?”
“I could never hate you, Bumble.”
“But, I got your best friend shot. He could have died; he could still die and all because of me!” Her whispers grew to shrieks.
“He’s not going to die, Bumble. Remember what the doctor said? You saved him.” He tried to be gentle with her. She had to be in shock. That was the only explanation for these statements.
“Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? He wouldn’t have needed saving if it hadn’t been for me!” Tossing the blanket off her shoulders, she turned to look at him.
“No, I don’t see and I’m not going to let you blame yourself for something you didn’t do.” Max’s tone had turned firm. He took calming breaths after his declaration. His nerves were shot, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and go to sleep. It had been quite the day. But, he was a daddy and his girl was definitely needing him right now and her needs came first. He would help her work through whatever this was first, then they could rest.
“Guess what, Max? You can’t control what I blame myself for.”
It was a direct challenge. She called him Max, something they had agreed wouldn’t happen in private. Her tone, her flashing eyes and her body language were begging him to take command. She was spiraling out of control and needed that from him. But why? He needed to know what was going on. What was the real reason she was poking at him? Well, if she needed more firmness from him right now, then firm he would be.
“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?”
“I didn’t know you had hearing issues. I thought the Navy tested that annually?” she snapped at him.
That was it. She was absolutely challenging him. “Brianna Marie, do you need a spanking? Are you acting this way because you are asking me to spank you?”
“What?”
“You are deliberately poking me and breaking our rules and I do not like it. If you need a spanking, Bumble, all you have to do is tell me and I will gladly give you one. You don’t have to brat, disrespect me or break rules. If you have a need, I will fulfill it. Do you need a spanking, baby?”
Do you need a spanking? The frustration inside of Brianna was making her say and do things she didn’t intend. She was being mean and it wasn’t right. Max hadn’t done anything wrong. Why was she taking her frustration out on him? Was it because she wanted a spanking? Maybe? She did feel better after a spanking. It made her feel forgiven, like what happened was now in the past, over, forgotten. Cleansed. The transgression erased. Was she behaving this way because she wanted a spanking? Could a mere spanking be enough to wash away the sin of nearly getting another person killed?
“Out loud please. I can’t read your mind.”
“I… you’d spank me just because I asked?”
“Bee, as your daddy, it is my job to meet all of your needs. If you need a spanking, I will spank you. Spankings are useful for many things. You’ve had erotic spankings and discipline spankings. You know they are very different. If you need a spanking for an emotional release, I will gladly do that for you.”
“But, what if it isn’t for an emotional release? What if it is for punishment?”
“Punishment? What do you think that you did that is deserving of punishment, Bumble?”
“I got Phantom shot.”
“Bee, baby, you did not get Phantom shot. Insurgents shot Phantom.”
Brianna could hear the frustration in his tone. He wasn’t getting it. “Why were you there, Max?” She deliberately used his name again. She watched as the tic started in his jaw. Good. Get frustrated. Get pissed with me. I deserve it.
“What do you mean?”
“Why were we there? Here, I’ll save us the trouble. We were in the helicopter because I wouldn’t leave my damn clinic. That is why.” She raised up on her knees, her hands moving around in the air as she spoke.
“Phantom was in the helicopter because of me. You were evacuating the area because I was too stupid to leave the country with my team. If I had listened and left a week ago, he wouldn’t have been there and he wouldn’t have been shot. He wouldn’t be fighting for his life. Let me spell this out for you since you are too dense to understand.” She saw anger flash in his eyes but didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Get angry with me, Max. I need you to be mad at me. I need you to punish me. She was begging him with each action, each word. She took her finger and poked it hard into his bare chest as she continued her tirade, “It. Is. My. Fault. That. Phantom. Was. Shot.”
Max captured her hand with his. “It is not your fault that Phantom was shot. He chose this career and understood the risks that com
e with it. Whether it was while you were being evacuated or while he was storming the embassy, the risks were there. You did not load that gun. You did not fire those shots and you did not throw yourself in front of bullets. Technically, there are a lot of people who could blame themselves. I could have ran faster, gotten you into the helicopter quicker, we could have picked another point to land. Do you see where I am going with this? I have been doing this for a long time, Bumble Bee. Each time one of us gets hurt, we analyze the situation and what we could do differently next time. But blaming ourselves? That accomplishes nothing. The only way you can blame yourself for Phantom’s injuries is if you had loaded that weapon and pulled the trigger. Do you get me?”
“I get that you are obtuse and trying to make me feel better but it isn’t working.” It wasn’t good enough. His words weren’t good enough. She wasn’t going to forgive herself just because he spoke pretty words. She needed… she needed more. She didn’t know what, but she knew that wasn’t enough. Max stared at her. She didn’t know what he was thinking but she hoped he could feel her need.
“Why are you staring at me like that… Max?” She said the last word slowly, deliberately. She saw it then. The flash in his eyes.
“Get your ass in that corner.” He pointed across the room. “Now.”
Finally. She felt relief at his words. Standing, she scrambled off the bed and rushed to the corner. That’s when she came to the conclusion that she didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. There were too many emotions inside of her, piling up. She was feeling out of control. It was spinning around inside of her, building, building, building and she was about to explode. She needed him to take it from her but she didn’t know how to ask. The bitch in her had come out and she felt horrible about it. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t how things should be done between them.
“Daddy, I—” She turned around to apologize to him. He cut her off.
“I see that I am Daddy again,” his tone was short. “Nose in the corner, Bumble Bee. We will talk in a minute.”
