by James, Marie
When I look back, I watch Jameson’s eyes roll back. There’s a shuffle, the phone pointed at nothing.
“He’s coding!” I hear before the call is disconnected.
Chapter 37
Kincaid
The look on my wife’s face as she exits Georgia’s room is one I haven’t seen in a long time, so long, in fact, I can’t recall if I’ve ever seen it before. She’s sobbing, and her fists meet my chest repeatedly when she’s close enough to make contact.
I crush her to my chest. Knowing how upset she must be if violence is her go-to response.
“Why would you do that?” Her voice has a frantic squeal to it, and I want nothing more than to make everything right for her. For Georgia. Hell, even for Hound because his well-being and the love he has for my daughter is what has kept her around so long this time.
“I had no choice,” I begin to explain. “He refused to go into surgery before seeing her.”
My beautiful wife shakes against my chest, the tremble in her small body almost enough to bring me to my knees.
“He coded just as Amelia cried, Diego. She was so upset they had to sedate her.” Sobs wrack her body. “She didn’t even get to hold her baby girl first.”
I run my hand through her hair and try to soothe her. If I’m being honest, touching her soothes me, and I need it more now than ever before. I knew what was going on because I was on the phone with Rocker while Hound was on the phone with my daughter.
“Do you know anything else?” Em pushes against me until my arms relax and she’s looking up in my eyes.
I sigh.
“Don’t give me that club business bullshit. This is one time I won’t back down without answers.”
My gorgeous, stubborn queen.
“They were able to get his heart started back, but he’s pretty fucked up. He was hit several times, and one round made it through his Kevlar. We won’t know more until the surgeon comes out and gives an update.”
“And where are they?”
I sigh again, but I won’t deny her the information she’s demanding. “Brazil.”
“Have you made arrangements for Curt’s family?” I hang my head at the mention of Catfish. He’s been with us for a couple of years, but I didn’t know him very well. He did a great job for the club and always gave a hundred percent in the field, but he’s kept to himself, preferring to be alone when he was home rather than hang out with the other guys.
I shake my head. “I was so worried about Georgia. I haven’t had the chance.”
“She’s fine,” Em assures me. “Amelia is fine.”
I clear my throat. Georgia and I have been butting heads since she was old enough to talk back, but the pain and disappointment in her eyes today was something new altogether.
“She hates me for putting him in that situation,” I mutter.
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“If he doesn’t make it,” I begin but have to pause and release a shuttering breath. “She’ll never speak to me again.”
I let the heat of my wife’s warm hand seep through my shirt over my heart. She’s strength and faith where I’m the realist in the family. I know more than her what Hound is facing.
“He’ll be fine,” she assures me, and the calm in her voice almost makes me believe it, too. “But you have to go.”
“Go?” I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere. My place is here with my family.”
“And I want you here, but Georgia needs you in Brazil. Your men need you. They lost a friend today.”
“I’ve made arrangements for Shadow and Dom to head down. Plane leaves in an hour.”
She takes a step back, her hand falling from my chest. “Georgia needs you to go to him because she can’t. You’re the only one she trusts to tell her the truth.”
“I can’t leave her. Can’t leave you.”
“I’ve got everything under control here.” Reaching up on her tiptoes, she brushes her lips across my cheek. “Don’t miss your plane.”
I cling to her, not happy one bit about leaving her and Georgia here, but hating what I’m going to find when I step foot on Brazilian soil.
“I’ll call you when we land,” I promise, and walk away without looking back.
If I focus on the pain and fear she’s trying desperately to hide, I’ll never be able to leave her.
***
Thirteen hours later our boots are on the ground. Two hours after that, we’re heading into the hospital. I hate the simplicity of the place. The smell, the grime clinging to the corners and along the walls are telling of just how different this place is compared to hospitals in the States.
Scooter is smoking a cigarette, tossing one away and lighting a new one as we approach. The tremble in his hands and the devastated look in his eyes make my gut clench. We spoke when we landed, but haven’t had an update since.
“Hey,” he says, face ashen and voice rough and filled with emotion. “They’ve started the paperwork to release Catfish’s body.”
I nod, fighting the urge to wrap him in a hug. He reminds me of Shadow’s son Griffin, so young and having seen so much evil in his short life.
“And Hound?” Last I heard he was out of surgery, but the doctors refused to consider him stable since he coded twice during his operation.
He nods, swallowing thickly and refusing to meet my eyes. “He’s hooked up to a vent. The break-through round hit him in his chest. By the time they were able to operate on his stubborn ass, the bullet had moved into his lung. He’s holding on, but they won’t let us back to see him with our own eyes.”
“Fuck that,” Shadow growls beside me. “Let them try to tell me I can’t see one of my men.”
Scooter gives a small smile and flicks his cigarette butt into the grass. “I was hoping one of you would say that.”
“Where are the other guys?” I ask.
“Rocker and Grinch are inside.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Davy and Dragon are with local authorities trying to sort this shit out.”
All I have to do is look at Dom, and he’s headed back to the SUV to help Davy and Dragon with the mess this failed mission has created.
“Let’s go talk to the doctor,” I urge as I walk past him.
He tosses his newly lit cigarette away.
“How’s Gi-Georgia?”
“She’s good. The baby is perfect.”
“He refused to go into surgery. Refused to let them touch him with anything but monitors until he talked to her.”
It may end up costing him his life.
“I would’ve done the exact same thing if it was Em,” I say instead, knowing it’s the truth. It’s then that I realize Hound is the best thing to happen to my daughter. If he loves her as much as I love Emmalyn, there’s no way I can do anything but give them both my blessing. Hell, I know he’d do anything in his power, including fighting with Satan or Saint Peter to get back to her.
Reassured, I slap Scooter on the back as we climb off of the elevator. “Now point me in the direction of this doctor that has no idea who he’s refusing.”
Chapter 38
Gigi
Trying to roll over only forces a pained gasp from my dry lips.
“Easy,” I hear Mom say from beside me.
“I hurt,” I grumble, hoping she can take the pain away just as she has all of my life.
“Childbirth is the most beautiful and most painful thing you’ll ever go through.” Her voice is soft; her hands warm on my shoulder.
“Amelia?” My eyes flutter open but slam shut against the brightness of the room.
“She’s perfect,” Mom assures me. “Waiting to meet you.”
The reminder that I haven’t met my daughter yet is like a knife to my heart. Both for the missed opportunity and the realization of what happened right after her birth.
“Jameson,” I sob. It’s not a question because I can feel in my soul that he’s gone. There’s an emptiness in my chest that only he was ever able to fill. That
spot is now cold and desolate.
“Shh.” The calming hand my mother runs in circles along my arm doesn’t bring the comfort it did in childhood. This isn’t a scraped knee or harsh words spoken on the playground by mean girls who want to hurt my feelings. This pain is real and so acute I can hardly catch my breath.
“Please calm down,” my mother begs.
Calm isn’t something I can manage, and I grow angrier at the ridiculous request.
“They’ll sedate you again.”
My breath hitches, head aching with misery I have no idea how I’ll ever survive it.
“Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for, but I’m certain that if she had the power to take it all away, she’d do it in the blink of an eye.
“Shhh.” The hand, the circles, the energy so strong I know it’s something only a mother can possess for a hurting child, is almost enough to settle me. Almost enough to make me believe everything will be okay.
Almost.
But, how can it? How can a day so beautiful be endured when it’s also filled with tragedy? Filled with such loss that the good, the beautiful is dulled like a consolation prize.
“He promised me forever, but now he’s gone.”
Saying the words out loud gut me. Acknowledging my truth rips my soul to shreds.
“No, baby girl. He’s not gone.”
Her assurance does nothing for me. Lying only makes my anguish sharper, like razors on my skin.
“He’s out of surgery,” she continues. “He’s hurt, but he’s not gone.”
I shake my head, hope the last thing I need. Hope is only going to make things worse, and in this moment I hate her saying the words. I hate my dad for putting us in this situation. I hate the world for taking away the only man I could ever love.
“I know you don’t agree,” my mother says, and it’s only now that I realize she’s walked away.
Chills run up my arm where her comforting touch was only seconds ago.
“Wires and a ventilator are better than her being sedated again because she thinks he’s dead.”
I open my eyes, head tilting to the side to watch my mother as she paces near the door. I’ve never heard her use that tone with anyone, much less my father who I assume she’s speaking with.
“Now, Diego,” she snaps before pulling the phone from her ear and hitting the end button.
Her phone chimes and the familiar sound of a Facetime call makes my heart rate spike.
I shake my head as she walks closer. She’s holding the phone away from her chest as if it’s a bomb she’s terrified is going to detonate in her hands.
“They’ve labeled him critical stable,” she warns. “He looks like hell, but he’s not gone.”
“This is a bad idea,” my dad says from the other end of the call.
“Daddy?” I say as I reach for the phone.
When I turn it to face me, I’m met with the warm eyes of my father. His face softens, the angry, agitated look I expected nowhere on his face.
“Hey, baby girl.” I’m comforted by the nickname, calmed by the kind baritone of his voice. “I hear I’m a granddad.”
I nod, my voice getting stuck in my throat. I’m a mother, one who’s not even met her daughter yet. I’m failing as a parent already, which only proves the things I’ve been telling Jameson for the last several months as reality sets in.
“I want you to know, before I turn the phone around, that it looks worse than it actually is.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t lie to me.”
“He’s holding on,” Dad assures me.
“I can handle it,” I lie. The tight smile I attempt fails as tears roll down my cool cheeks.
“I love you, baby girl.”
His words echo in my ears as the phone shifts before landing on a man I hardly recognize. The beard is familiar, but his color is off. His size, once so huge and powerful, is diminished in the hospital bed. The cords and wires connecting to his ashen body are nothing like I imagined while preparing myself for this moment.
I begin to cry, my body shaking so hard I drop the phone. My mother, being the strongest woman I know, grabs the phone and holds it in front of me. I ignore the tremble in her hands that matches mine.
“Listen, Georgia.”
I shake my head, unprepared to hear my dad make promises he’s unable to keep. I can’t bear assurances and empty words.
“Listen,” he urges again. “Hear the beep?”
My sobs quieten as I try to focus on what he’s referencing.
“That’s his heart monitor,” he explains as the consistent beep, beep, beep is heard through the phone. “It’s strong, steady. He’s in an induced coma because of the vent. His lung was punctured. He’s not dying, baby girl. He’s healing.”
“H-he’s going to live?”
“I have every faith that he will,” Dad answers.
“Promise me, daddy.” Tears brim my eyes again. “Please.”
“Baby girl.” I can hear the emotion in his voice, but I don’t miss the fact that he never utters the words. He never tells me everything is going to be okay. How can he?
“Have faith,” he urges.
“Leave your phone,” Mom instructs.
I watch as the phone is propped against something.
“Love you, baby girl,” Dad says before I hear the click of a door. Silence, other than the beep of his monitor and the rush of air every time the machine pushes air into my love’s lungs, fills the room around me.
“I’m going to have the nurses bring Amelia in,” Mom says as she lifts my hand and wraps my fingers around the phone.
“Thank you.” I hope she knows the two words are meant for everything she’s done.
My eyes close against the warmth I feel on her lips as she brushes them against my forehead, but then they focus back on the man in the hospital bed.
When the door clicks closed as my mother leaves the room, the begging begins. I beg him to live, to fight, to hold on for me, for Amelia. I make promises I’m not even sure I can keep, but have every intention of trying to manage. I promise to let him do dirty things to me. Swear he can punish me for missteps I haven’t even committed yet if only he’ll wake up.
He doesn’t.
I know he’s unable. After Dad’s explanation, I know he’s physically unable to fight against the drugs they have pumped into his body so he can get better, but that doesn’t keep me from selfishly hoping he will. It doesn’t keep me from watching him so intently that my eyes begin to hurt because blinking means losing a second of time with him.
A whimper from the doorway is the only thing strong enough to make me refocus. A nurse with a smile too bright for the situation pushes a small cart topped with a plastic basket into the room. Pink and wiggly is all I can see until Mom sidesteps the nurse and reaches inside to pull Amelia out.
I smile back at the phone, hoping the noise was enough to make Jameson wakeup.
“You’re missing the most precious moment,” I chide as if he’s aware of his surroundings. “I know you hate missing this.”
“Shh-shh-shh,” Mom coos as she walks closer.
“I’ll hold her twice as tight until you can have her in your arms,” I promise.
I whimper right along with Amelia as Mom pulls the phone from my hand and replaces it with the most perfect angel I’ve seen.
“Don’t,” I say as I settle the little bundle in my arm and reach for the phone with my free hand.
“I’m just propping it up,” she assures me as she rolls the table closer.
I watch the screen of the phone as she settles it against the pink water pitcher. I don’t fight the smile that crests my lips when I split my time between watching the screen and looking down at the miracle we made.
“She’s perfect,” I whisper to Jameson as Amelia calms, her lips jutting out as she falls asleep.
“She’s got his eyes,” Mom says. “I imagine her chin is his as well, but I’ve never seen him without a beard.”
“She’s a mix of everything good from both of us.”
Tears fall from my eyes transforming the spots on the blanket from light pink to fuchsia.
“I’ll give you guys some time,” Mom says after another brush against my head. She repeats the action to Amelia’s tiny head before backing away. “I’m going to have to track down an extension cord and have Misty let Shadow know your dad will need to find one also.”
“Thank you.” I take a few seconds to look up at my mother. She nods, eyes still brimming with tears.
“There is a waiting room full of people waiting to see you and meet Amelia.”
“I’m not ready,” I tell her with my eyes back on my daughter.
“Let me know when you are.” The softness in her voice is unexpected. I anticipated her telling me not to be selfish, to urge me to consider other people’s feelings. “Ivy is chomping at the bit to get back here.”
“She’s here?” How long was I out?
Mom nods. “She jumped on the first plane. Isabella is out there as well.”
I begin to tremble. “I want to see them both.”
Mom glances back at the phone before her eyes meet mine again. “It will be hard for Isabella to see him like that. Maybe after you end the video?”
I shake my head. “The video stays until he wakes up.”
“That could be days, Georgia.” It doesn’t come out as chastisement, only her acknowledging the length of time in case my hopes were up for immediate gratification.
“I know. You can explain to her, just like Dad did for me. She’ll want to see him.”
Mom nods even though she seems unsure.
“Give me ten minutes alone, and then you can send them back.”
I don’t bother to look at the door when it clicks softly behind my mother.
“Your sister and aunt are going to meet you soon,” I tell Amelia’s sleeping form.
My fingers trace the small pout of her lips, trailing down her tiny chin.
“Everything is going to be just fine.”
My eyes sting as I lie to my daughter for the very first time.
Chapter 39
