by D. L. Raver
I pulled a chair next to Brody’s bed.
“Fuck, dude, I’m sorry. I should’ve anticipated that Marcus would do this.” I took his hand and bowed my head. I didn’t want to cry, but screw it all if tears didn’t fall down my cheeks.
“Zolt?” Irelyn’s warm hand squeezed my shoulder.
I dried my eyes before I looked up at her. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Sorry about that,” she said, digging in her handbag for probably gum or maybe a mint.
I shook my head. “Don’t apologize. I can only imagine…” I didn’t need to finish that thought; we both knew exactly what memories seeing Brody like this conjured.
Irelyn pulled over another chair and sat next to me, holding and stroking my hand, placing her other hand on Brody’s arm.
The doctor came in and updated us with Brody’s condition. He was on the younger side, mid-thirties I’d say, and he took an instant liking to my wife; I saw it in his eyes when his gaze roamed appreciatively over her body as she stood to shake his hand.
“I’m Dr. Howard, the neurosurgeon on call.”
“Irelyn Wilk—uh Hamil, I mean. Irelyn Hamil.” She glanced at me with a wistful smile as she twisted her wedding ring around her finger.
“Zolt Hamil,” I growled as I stood myself. I couldn’t believe this dickhead surgeon checked out my Irelyn. But this wasn’t the time to go caveman-possessive with the man taking care of my brother. Nonetheless, I pulled her to my side, draping a protective arm over her shoulders.
“Your brother’s prognosis is guarded but good. We’re keeping him sedated while the swelling in his brain decreases. If we don’t see enough improvement over the course of the next twenty-four hours, we may have to perform a cranial burr hole to help relieve the pressure.” The surgeon typed on his tablet and scrolled through a few screens.
“Oh, God,” Irelyn said and clamped her hand over her mouth. Even I felt a little sick at the thought of them drilling a hole in his head.
“That would be a last resort, of course. His labs are good, and your brother is young and in excellent health. We have every expectation he’ll make a full recovery.”
“You said you’re the surgeon on call?” I asked, giving Dr. I-want-to-fuck-your-hot-wife a doubtful glare.
“Yes, Mr. Hamil, that is correct.” He stiffened and one brow rose as if in contest to my unspoken assertion.
“And you’ve been a neurosurgeon for how long?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Zolt!” Irelyn objected, but I ignored her.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Hamil, I understand your husband’s concern. I’ve been practicing for almost two years now.”
“Right. I’ll be contacting Dr. Stephen Fredricks from Massachusetts General. Brody worked under him for a time and they are great friends. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to come here.”
“So, Mr. Hamil is a doctor? And he’s acquaintances with Dr. Fredricks?” The young doctor’s face paled just a little. Dr. Fredricks was one of the country’s top neurosurgeons and currently served as the Board Chair of the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. He was also the one who saved my leg when the other surgeons wanted to amputate.
“Stephen is a family friend. In fact, if he finds out about this before I call him, he’ll have my head. Tell the head of your department to expect a call from him.”
“S-sure, okay,” Dr. Howard stammered and fumbled with his tablet, nearly dropping it. “I’ll just go and phone the department head.”
“You do that. And that would be?” I asked unimpressed.
Irelyn stomped on my foot for being rude and I winced. As soon as we were alone, I was going to be reamed by my wife for being a dick, but this was my brother; I didn’t have time to play nice.
“Dr. Carl Booker is the head of Neurology. I’m sure he will be in touch immediately.” The good doctor backed out of the room at triple-speed. It would have been comical if the situation didn’t totally suck.
“Really, Zolt,” Irelyn said and punched me in the arm.
“Ouch! You punch hard for a girl,” I said, rubbing my arm.
“Was that necessary? First, you acted like a Neanderthal—”
“You didn’t see how he ogled you as if you were a tall drink of water and he was dying of thirst. Not only that, but this is Brody.” I heard my voice break, and I stared off into the distance.
“I know, my love. I know.” She wedged her head under my arm and snuggled against me, hugging me tightly.
“I have to take care of him the way he took care of me.”
“I know,” she repeated. “You make that phone call to Dr. Fredricks, and I’ll go get us something to drink.”
“Take Conrad with you. He’s standing outside, guarding the door.”
She kissed my cheek and left the room.
I sat in the chair and held my brother’s hand. As I did, I let my anger and hatred for Marcus consume me.
“I promise, Brody,” I said in the strongest voice I could muster. “Marcus Xavier is a dead man if it’s the last thing I do!”
I leaned back in my chair beside Brody’s bed and stretched, raising my arms over my head and arching my back, groaning when it popped. If only I could relieve my leg the same way, life would be good.
Irelyn had begged me to go home for a few hours and rest, but besides taking restroom breaks and to smoke once or twice, I didn’t leave his side. I couldn’t.
For over twenty hours, I sat listening to the whirring sounds of the ventilator and the constant beeping of the heart rate monitor. Every once in a while, I’d doze off, but I always woke with a start, afraid Brody would wake and find me asleep.
Another time, I dreamed he’d died, and when I opened my eyes to see him in a hospital room, arm in a cast with machines breathing for him, I nearly lost it. My sixth-sense had failed me on this completely, and it pissed me off that I didn’t see this coming.
Exhaustion made me want to curl up and sleep on the floor. I wasn’t alone. Irelyn, T, Rach, and Cory were here, as well. I pulled rank on Irelyn and sent her home for a few hours, worried her fragile mental state couldn’t take staying here around the clock.
Just as I promised Dr. I-want-to-fuck-your-hot-wife, I contacted Dr. Fredricks, who became involved via hourly video conference updates. Miraculously, the hospital did a 360 in terms of Brody’s care. And when they realized he was the brother of Zolt Hamil—a name that still meant something around here—they bent over backward to make sure we were taken care of, as well.
Irelyn came into the room, carrying my leather duffle and a plastic container. She set both aside and wrapped her arms around my neck, resting her chin on my head.
“I brought you fresh clothes. You should take a quick shower. I’ll sit with him.”
“I’m fine.”
She came around the chair, kneeled before me and cupped my face. “No, you’re not, Zolt. Brody would be pissed if he knew you weren’t taking care of yourself. Hannah and I made you some sandwiches and some brownies.”
“Brownies? Like, my special brownies?”
“Yep.”
The love and pride I saw reflected in her eyes jostled my heart, and I wondered what I’d done to deserve her.
“We figured it out this morning. Then, I had to give her the rest of the day off so she could sleep off her high in the guest room after she sampled them.” Irelyn winked at me, and I burst out laughing.
She opened the plastic container and, sure enough, there were two delicious turkey-and-Swiss sandwiches, as well as two scrumptious-looking brownies. My mouth watered instantly and my leg began to twitch.
Stupid leg.
“So, you’ll eat?” she asked as she rose and held out the container for me to take.
I took the container, because how could I not? Irelyn looked so proud of herself, and the thought of my housekeeper stoned in our guest room made me laugh.
“Yeah, I’ll eat. Just out of curiosity, how much did you put in?”
“I don’
t know. I found a recipe online and followed it. By the way, we jimmied open the lock on the cupboard you keep your stash in, so you’ll have to replace it. Though, is that really necessary? Hannah doesn’t care, and I know Anna partakes on occasion.” She shrugged. “Anyway, sorry about the lock.”
I stood and set the container on the table. “No apologies. That you even thought to do this for me is, well, it’s too sweet. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said and stepped into my waiting embrace. “It made me happy to take care of you. Lord knows you’ve taken care of me enough lately. And I’m your wife; it’s my job.”
I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly, breathing her in. With my eyes closed, I let her sweet, Irelyn fragrance give me a brief reprieve from the nasty, sterile bouquet that inhabited every hospital.
We stayed that way until a rustling of the sheets on Brody’s bed caught our attention.
I opened my eyes to see my brother’s blue eyes staring back at me.
“Brody! You’re awake!”
“What?” Irelyn turned around. “Oh, my God! Brody! Zolt, press the nurse’s call button!”
I squeezed my brother’s good hand, trying to erase the expression of terror he had on his face. I explained what happened until the room filled with people needing to examine and take care of him.
The next several minutes were a whirlwind of activity as doctors and nurses attended the now-conscious Brody Hamil.
Irelyn and I stood back, watching them work. The relief that filled me made me shake. I could admit now how serious this had been, and I found myself getting more pissed every minute I watched them deal with Brody’s broken and battered body.
They removed the intubation tube and Brody was whisked off to yet another CT scan, leaving us alone.
“Now, will you take a shower and eat? He’s going to be gone for a while.” She rose up on her tippy-toes and kissed my lips. “Please?”
“Yeah, all right,” I acquiesced. A quick shower would be great now that I thought about it, and I was starving. My stomach growled loudly as if to reinforce my decision. I popped the lid to the container with the sandwiches and the brownies. I ate every last bit, praying the brownies weren’t too strong. I just needed the edge taken off; I wasn’t looking to get baked.
Irelyn nodded approvingly as I downed a bottle of water. I had to admit, I liked having someone care for me. Let me rephrase that: I liked having the woman I loved, and who loved me back, care for me. Later, I would make sure to show her just how much it meant to me.
When I came out of the shower, feeling mostly human again, I found T-bone sitting with Irelyn, talking.
“Hey, T, great news, eh?” I asked shaking his hand.
“The best, but I have more. We were able to buy off the woman making the claim against you, and I believe we’ve thwarted anymore claims.”
“How much money did that cost me?” I watched Irelyn wince, but I didn’t want to hide this from her.
“Surprisingly enough, nothing beside the ten K we paid the original complainant. All the women we spoke to agreed you were an asshole, but they were shocked to hear you’d been accused of rape. You must be great in bed, because they all wanted to know when you’d be around again.”
“I can attest to that,” Irelyn said, settling herself on my lap. She grabbed my face and squeezed with her thumb and forefinger. “He’s mine now. Those bitches are out of luck.”
I laughed nervously, praying Irelyn took this all in stride. If not, I’d hear about this later. When she kissed me hard on the mouth, I knew she was okay.
T cleared his voice. “That’s not all. My boys were able to catch one of the assholes who did this to Brody.” His voice came steady without much excitement to it, and I wondered if his guilt dimmed his happiness.
“That’s great. How?” Irelyn asked as she snuggled into my lap.
“The idiot started flapping his lips in a bar one of my guys happens to hang out at. When he mentioned how they’d trashed a Hummer, and how they’d taken baseball bats and beat the shit out of a dude, my guy called me. He kept the guy busy by buying him rounds until we arrived; the asshole was blitzed by the time we got there. I gave him a choice: he could either come with me and we’d talk, or he could partake in the same treatment he’d extended Brody.” T-bone finally smiled, and I was glad to see it.
“Let me guess; he didn’t relish the idea of being beat with a baseball bat and left for dead? I don’t know, T, I think I’d have chosen that over a convo with you.”
Irelyn cringed as we talked, and I kissed her head; this was hitting too close to home with her.
I gave T a wary glance, and thankfully, he caught my drift and changed the direction of the conversation.
“With his confession and all the evidence, I had my forensics team gather at the location—”
“You have a forensics team?” Irelyn asked, interrupting T-bone.
“Yes, ma’am. In cases where we know we can’t or won’t be involving the police right away, I have a team of professional CSIs process the scene and preserve the evidence for a possible conviction later,” T said matter-of-factly, adjusting his gold Rolex on his massive left wrist.
“So, the police aren’t involved now?” Irelyn looked up at me with a furrowed brow.
“No, baby. We decided when this all began to not involve the police since we don’t know how deep Marcus’s influence extends. T plans for all contingencies; we’ll have the evidence we need to put Marcus away if it comes to that.” I ran my thumb over her brow and she relaxed.
“I guess that makes sense. It’s just…” She let out a loud sigh and stood. Stalking to the window, Irelyn pulled back the vertical blinds and stared out.
“What, Irelyn?” I asked, giving T a questioning glance.
“When and where is this all going to stop? Are we fooling ourselves by thinking we can actually beat Marcus at his own game? We’re getting nowhere. Kenna is still under his control, and he’s done God knows what to her. At every turn, he takes something or hurts someone we care about. If we had someone or something he cared about to hold over his head, then maybe we’d have a chance, but we don’t. Well, there is me, but he only cares because you and I hurt his ego. I don’t know. Still, I think—” Irelyn stopped talking and started twisting her hair.
A knot of worry formed in my stomach.
“Irelyn,” I said and joined her at the window. Placing my hands firmly on her shoulders, I turned her around. “Look at me.”
Her reluctant gaze slowly met mine. “It’s the only way, Zolt. Look at what he did to Brody. He could have killed him, too. This has to stop.”
“And it will stop. What happened to Brody was meant to serve as a message to me. A warning.”
“Irelyn—” T-bone began to speak, but I raised my hand, stopping him.
“That was one expensive warning. This isn’t Brody’s fight. Hell, it’s not even your fight. It’s mine and mine alone, thanks to my cowardly father’s exit,” she argued.
“The hell it isn’t my fight. The day you and I decided to be together, it became my fight. You’re my wife and Brody is my brother. You’re my family! I protect my family!” I yelled, shaking her, too scared to stop. “Mine!”
“Zolt, stop,” T-bone said and put a hand on my arm. “You’re scaring your wife. Chill, dude; just chill. Let’s all take a beat, take a breath, and chill the fuck out.”
I did as T suggested, closed my eyes and took a beat. Inhaling deeply, I commanded myself to relax. When I opened my eyes and looked at Irelyn, she was wide-eyed and out of sorts. My shaking her had, well, shaken her.
“God, I’m sorry, baby.” I pulled her into me, smothering her in my embrace. “What do I have to say to you to get you to believe me? I won’t lose you again, Irelyn; I can’t. How many times do I need to say that to you? I’ll never let you give yourself over to him. Ever.”
“I just…” Irelyn stopped and glanced up at me, her eyes misty. “I can’t stand this.
It’s like he’s supernatural or something. He thwarts us at every turn. Shows up in places he shouldn’t be no matter what we do.”
“This too will pass. I won’t let you be the martyr here, Irelyn.”
“She won’t have to,” T-bone said. “As it turns out, we do know what he cares about. And it’s thanks to you and your brother.”
“I don’t understand,” Irelyn said. I let go of her and she turned to face T. Then, I placed my arms around her again, afraid if I didn’t hold on to her, she would slip from my grasp.
“You mentioned Delaney Carmichael and, as it turns out, so did Chris. He left an address for her and a phone number, but with no notation. Since he listed it, we figured it had to be important. When you told us about her note, we investigated and found out some very interesting and disturbing things about Delaney and Marcus’s relationship.”
“Like?” I asked.
“Like, when Delaney was thirteen, she had a miscarriage and was sent to a mental hospital. From what we can tell from her records, which I now have in my possession, Marcus was the father. Because he was only seventeen and under-age, and because Delaney refused to say she was raped, which we don’t know if she was, no charges were filed. The fact that Chris noted her name, and that even now she’s within Marcus’s control, leads me to believe we may have found his raison d’être.”
“His reason for being,” I mumbled, shocked by this revelation. Had we finally gotten a break?
“Oh, God,” Irelyn murmured and went ghostly pale.
“What is it?” I asked and pushed a chair under her, afraid she was about to pass out.
“Several times during, uh, sex…” she said apologetically and glanced at me, waiting for my inevitable growl that, of course, slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“Anyway, he called me Del, as he, you know, came. I didn’t think twice about it because I didn’t care if he thought about someone else; I certainly was.”
I didn’t need to ask who she imagined during sex because I knew it was me.
“That’s why he wanted to do it in the dark, I bet, so he could imagine being with her,” Irelyn continued. “But, I don’t get it. She doesn’t look anything like me, what with her ebony black hair and piercing blue eyes. Like unreal blue eyes.”
