What the Hail

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Sal’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not pressing charges,” I continued. “Because he didn’t do anything wrong. You can run the surveillance video if you’d like.”

  The other cop looked around the gathering, his brows furrowed.

  “Sorry, Sal,” the cop apologized. “Why do you have a sword?”

  That’s what I wanted to know, too.

  And why would it take the stupid rookie fifteen minutes to realize what was going on? Why wouldn’t that be the first thing he’d ask?

  “Confiscated it from a traffic stop,” Sal said. “Illegal to carry a blade over…”

  “Actually,” Buck stepped into the gun that was still pointed at him. “It’s legal as fuck to carry a sword in Texas now. As of September first, as a matter of fact.”

  Sal faltered, his confusion evident.

  “This is Texas, boy.” Buck chuckled. “We do things a little different down here.”

  Sal lowered his gun, finally, and shot the old man an angry glare.

  The other officer finally realized that Sal was acting weird, which made the officer jittery.

  “Um, Sal?” the officer said. “How about we go?”

  And he did just that.

  Sal walked with the cop to the side of the cruiser, and Buck turned to me.

  “What the fuck?”

  I’d never heard Buck curse before, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

  “I don’t even know,” I admitted. “I…”

  “No!”

  It was the agonizing scream that had me looking up, and wishing I’d paid a little more attention than I had.

  ***

  Lark

  I was barely peeking over the edge of the window when I saw Sal walk away with the officer.

  “Thank God,” I breathed, standing up.

  The cop and Sal were talking, but it didn’t look like the cop was worried about Sal.

  “Nobody questions that there is a fucking sword strapped to his back?” I breathed, angry that the cop wasn’t trying to do anything.

  I was seriously worried, and I wasn’t even the slightest bit aware of what was coming out of my mouth.

  “No,” Pace said what I already knew. “I’ve seen four or five people since then carrying them.”

  Pace.

  Jesus.

  I was free at least, which was why I started walking toward the front door.

  But, as I got there, I saw something different than what I’d seen in the window.

  “Baylor,” I breathed.

  Then, as if in slow motion, Sal started to stomp to where Buck and Baylor were standing.

  Neither one of them were paying attention.

  I watched in silent horror as Sal reared back and caught hold of the sword that was on his back. I just knew that Sal’s intentions weren’t to scare Baylor.

  They were to hurt him.

  I screamed.

  I wasn’t aware that I’d screamed, but I did.

  My voice carried and seemed to bounce off the walls of the larger buildings on either side of the rehab facility.

  Baylor’s head snapped sideways, first following the sound of my voice to where I was standing in the doorway, and then to the man that was bringing his sword up and around in a deadly arc.

  Though the horror was there that Buck was about to get sliced with this sword, it wasn’t at DEFCON one yet, thanks to it not being Baylor that sword was headed toward.

  But then Baylor, my fucking hero, tackled Buck sideways to save him, and Buck went flying.

  Leaving Baylor wide ass open for Sal’s blade to slice into him.

  The minute it touched his skin, right across the flat plain of his belly, blood sprayed.

  My keening wail was heard by all, I was sure.

  My knees buckled.

  Gunshots were heard.

  Sal dropped the sword.

  Buck got up on his elbows, a big black gun in one meaty fist, eyes wide and fearful—just as confused as the rest of us.

  Baylor went down.

  I started running.

  The police officer finally got his shit into gear, and he yanked the gun from Buck’s hands.

  Buck obviously gave it willingly.

  Even though Buck was old, I highly doubted that he’d give up his firearm unless he’d wanted to.

  I found myself moving without conscious thought.

  I was sprinting directly for the man that held my heart.

  My husband.

  My best friend.

  My soulmate.

  The police officer tried to push me away, to stop me from going to Baylor, but I shoved him and he fell back.

  He landed on his ass in a pool of blood that was gathering around Sal’s body.

  Sal was alive and glaring at me, his hand covering a wound on his belly.

  I didn’t spare him a second glance.

  I just didn’t care.

  I was so angry.

  So, pissed off.

  So, fucking broken.

  “Oh, God.”

  I looked down at my man, who was lying on the ground, his hands covering his stomach, and breathing shallowly.

  I could see his intestines.

  I could see his intestines!

  Chapter 27

  Am I the only person running out of people I like?

  -Coffee Cup

  Lark

  They tried to put Sal in the same ambulance as my husband.

  That went over about as well as anybody could expect. Kind of like trying to shove a cat into a bag that was already riled up to begin with.

  If it wasn’t for Pace, I think I might’ve tried to shank a few paramedics as well as the stupid officer who was still trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  “Listen,” I seethed. “You will not put him in the same vehicle as my husband.”

  I didn’t add in what I was also thinking—or I’ll stab him in the head with my goddamn belt buckle—which happened to be the only sharp thing I could think of at the time.

  The paramedic opened his mouth to argue, but an angry voice from behind me had the paramedic closing his mouth before he said whatever stupid thing he said next.

  “Listen, Cooper,” Pace said. “You’ll have to take them one at a time.”

  “If I take them one at a time, one could die while we’re transporting.”

  “Not my problem,” Pace shot back. “This man goes first.”

  I had no clue who Pace was, but I was happy for his interference because the paramedic listened to him.

  Squeezing Pace’s hand in thanks, I climbed up into the ambulance with my husband and stared at him as we made our way to the hospital.

  When we arrived ten minutes later, Baylor was in no better shape.

  His breathing was shallow. His eyes were closed. His hands flopped uselessly at his side.

  There was a new IV in one hand, and they’d placed an oxygen mask on his face to help with his breathing.

  Before I could wonder anything else, we arrived at the hospital, and he was taken away from me.

  When I tried to follow, they pushed me back and told me to wait in the waiting room.

  Which I did for all of fifteen minutes before the first trickle of family came inside.

  His mom was first.

  His dad second.

  His brother, Travis, third.

  Hannah, fourth.

  Evander and Tate Casey fifth and sixth.

  Dante, seventh.

  I couldn’t even scrounge up the interest to see this elusive brother of Baylor’s.

  I didn’t care.

  Nothing interested me at all.

  Not the fact that his family was rallying around me. Nor the fact that Dante had a baby with him.

  No, not one single thing interested me until that nurse came through the door two hours later.

  And only then it was the news that
he was in surgery and that we could move up to the surgical waiting room on the first floor.

  I didn’t go.

  Not until after I stopped by the hospital chapel.

  There, I dropped down to my knees in front of the steps that led to an altar, buried my face in my hands, and prayed to God.

  Something I hadn’t done in a really, really long time.

  It was hard to believe in someone who didn’t save you when you needed it most.

  But now, I could see, that though he may not have answered my prayers when it came to making Sal into a good man, he did answer my prayers that I would someday find a good man.

  Baylor was that man for me.

  Once I was finished, I wiped my tears, composed myself and joined my new family in the waiting room.

  Or tried to, anyway.

  I wasn’t sitting down but for five minutes when a nurse came into the waiting room.

  “Anyone O negative in here?”

  I blinked, then raised my hand.

  Two others did as well.

  “We were hoping y’all could donate,” she disclosed. “We had two accidents come in on the heels of the other.”

  I stood up, knowing which accidents she was walking about, and wondering if my blood would be used to save my ex.

  I thoroughly fucking hoped not.

  She led us through a maze of hallways to a sterile white room and came to a stop just to the side of the door.

  “One at a time,” she said, gesturing at me first. “You come with me.”

  I did, glancing back at the older man in his sixties, and the younger boy who looked to be in his twenties.

  They’d been sitting together in a different part of the waiting room with us, and they hadn’t spoken a word to each other the entire time I’d been in there.

  The older man’s eyes were kind. The teenager’s, however, were not.

  He looked like the only reason he came was that the man had forced him.

  Maybe it was his grandfather?

  I shrugged and followed behind the woman.

  “I have a request.”

  She looked over her shoulder at me.

  “The accidents you’re referring to…”

  She nodded.

  “If my blood is going to help anyone, I want you to give it to my husband. Don’t give it to the man that was shot…he almost killed my husband in front of me. My husband’s name is Baylor Hail.”

  Her eyes were wide with shock.

  “I…I didn’t know.”

  I shrugged. “My husband is in surgery right now…if he needs blood, give it to him. Don’t…just don’t give my blood to the gunshot victim. I don’t want to help him in any way.”

  Sal had taken my blood a lot over the years, but not by any means where it’d help him. The ways he’d taken it were with a punch here, causing my lip to split. Or a shove there, which caused my head to hit the concrete and split open.

  Seriously, the man didn’t deserve anything more from me.

  “I’ll write that in the notes on the blood,” she promised. “And I’ll personally walk it to the OR that your husband is in.”

  I looked down at my hands.

  “Thank you.”

  ***

  Three hours later, I was let into Baylor’s room.

  “You can come see him now.”

  I stood before anybody else could.

  “Where?”

  He pointed down the hall. “Fourth door that way. Room 216.”

  I didn’t wait to ask if I could go first. I wouldn’t have cared whether they wanted me to go first or not. I was going, whether they liked it or not.

  Heart in my throat, I pushed through the closed door into a room.

  I expected to find Baylor lying there, unconscious.

  He wasn’t unconscious.

  He was drugged.

  “Life isn't always pretty, but you are.”

  I laughed and wiped my tears, so freakin’ happy that he was able to talk after what had happened.

  “You’re so high on pain medication right now,” I told him. “Your eyes are dilated, too.”

  Baylor's smile was nothing less than spectacular.

  I moved closer, stopping just short of touching him.

  “Getting my ball hurt was totally worth it,” he told me. “You are the most beautiful woman I ever met." He stopped, opening one eye. “Will you marry me?"

  I grinned and brushed his unruly hair out of his eyes.

  "I'm already married to you, silly.”

  The smile that overtook his face was nothing less than spectacular.

  "You're joking!”

  He brought his hand up to twirl one finger around a strand of hair.

  “She’s not joking, dumbass.”

  My eyes widened as I saw the man at the end of the bed.

  I hadn’t realized that he’d followed me.

  I’d seen him in pictures, and despite being a little more bearded than in his photos, he was recognizable.

  He was also still carrying that baby carrier.

  “Dante!” Baylor cried. “I’m married to this beauty! Can you believe it?”

  Dante turned his eyes to me.

  He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. And those eyes...oh, my God. The pain in them physically hurt to witness. It felt like my heart was grasped in a giant fist and squeezed.

  "I can't believe it," he said, turning back to his brother. "How'd you get yourself sliced?”

  My smile fell.

  “That would be my fault.”

  Dante turned back to study me.

  “Did you go after him with a sword?”

  I shook my head no, but even though my hands weren't the ones holding the weapon, they might as well have been.

  It'd been my ex-husband doing the slicing.

  “Then I don't see why it would be your fault that he was hurt,” Dante said. “The way I heard it was that he did this in front of not just you, but a police officer and about thirty wounded veterans."

  Well, that had been the truth. He had.

  “But I—”

  "You can't blame yourself for other people's sins," he cut me off. "I've tried. It doesn't turn out well."

  Dante looked so serious that I swallowed and looked away.

  The guilt I felt for all of this was staggering.

  “Dante, I've missed you so much,” Baylor interrupted us. “Did you see that I had a wife?" Then my husband grabbed my boob. “And she has boobs.”

  Dante’s lips quirked, almost like he was going to smile, but just shook his head instead. “I see, brother.”

  I bit my lip and bent down, pressing my lips against Baylor’s.

  He moaned and started to pull me on top of him, but I stopped him before he could so much as reach for my hips.

  “Don’t,” I ordered. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  He pouted.

  “Tease.”

  I snorted and backed away, feeling that it was safer if I wasn’t too close to him. My body seemed like it was a little bit too tempting for him right now.

  He gave me a scowl, and then turned that angry face to his brother.

  “What the fuck is that?”

  Dante looked down at the baby carrier he was holding.

  Realizing what Baylor wanted, he turned the carrier around and showed him.

  My breath caught.

  “Dude,” he said. “What’s with all the pink? You hate pink!”

  I wanted to smother my man with kisses.

  With him high as a kite, I would’ve thought he’d say something about Dante’s child, but he didn’t.

  “Can I hold her?” Baylor demanded, waving his hands out in front of him with an expectant look.

  Dante looked like he was trying to deduce whether this was a good idea or not. I could see the thoughts crossing his face, one after the other before he decided that it couldn’t
hurt.

  He set the carrier down on the floor, bent down, and pulled the small baby out of the car seat.

  The little girl was adorable in all her pink. She also looked tiny in her father’s hands, so I couldn’t even gauge her age by comparing her to anything—mostly because Dante was massive in stature.

  “You’re wasting time,” Baylor sang to his brother.

  I bit my lip and looked at Dante as he placed his daughter into Baylor’s waiting arms.

  “Ow!”

  My stomach sank as Dante touched Baylor’s belly, but Dante didn’t apologize. He held onto the little girl until he was sure that Baylor wouldn’t drop her.

  And that was when I decided that I’d start working on Baylor’s desire not to have any children anytime soon.

  Just looking at him now, a tiny little girl in his arms, it let me know that he was ready to be a father just as much as I was to be a mother.

  “You okay?”

  I blinked and turned to Dante.

  “Sure.” I cleared my throat. “What’s her name?”

  Dante looked at his brother and daughter when he said, “Mary.”

  I studied the little girl’s face.

  The up-tilted eyes and flattened features. Her tongue was stuck out of her mouth, and her face was scrunched up and puffy looking. Her body was splayed out in Baylor’s arms, but she didn’t look too upset by this.

  It took me all of ten seconds to realize two things.

  Mary had Down syndrome, and Baylor either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  Either way, I’d never, not once, wanted to throw myself into my husband’s arms and hug him more.

  The one and only time he could’ve been loose with his tongue and get away with it, he said just one thing.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  And she was.

  I would actually go as far as to say that she was the cutest baby I’d ever seen in my life.

  And not only did she have her father wrapped around her little finger, but she had her uncle now wrapped around the one on her opposite hand.

  Two huge, alpha males, one totally drugged up and the other worried and broken, stared and looked at the beautiful miracle in Baylor’s arms.

  ***

  “I can’t believe he came.”

  I opened my eyes to hear Baylor talking.

  My eyes peeked open, and I smiled when I saw Rafe sitting at the edge of Baylor’s bed, talking to him.

  “You don’t know what it took to get him to come,” Rafe said. “I drove to his place, told him what happened, and he looked at me like I’d grown a second head. I had to practically tell him that the fucker was strapped in the bed two rooms down from yours before he agreed to come.”