by Melody Anne
Eyes sent his ball soaring out about forty yards, and then it took a hard right about eighty yards. It was the worst shot of the day so far. He turned to Brackish. “Your turn.”
“I can beat that,” Brackish said with a smug smile.
“Have at it, I’m going to order some appetizers and beer. Do you have any requests?” Eyes asked.
Though Brackish wasn’t much of a drinker anymore after his wild younger days, it was obvious his mood had improved. A couple of beers couldn’t hurt in this environment where they both felt they didn’t have to have eyes in the back of their heads.
“Yeah, I noticed a few different lagers and IPAs on tap. Any of those will be fine,” he said, not looking at Eyes while he concentrated on the ball at his feet. It was tiny sitting there next to his huge feet.
Eyes waived to the waitress who quickly approached. He placed their order, then watched her sweet ass as she walked away. “Dang, she has some great curves,” he said to Brackish, who wasn’t paying the least bit of attention.
“She has curves to get asswipe’s like you to give her bigger tips,” Brackish said. “Whoever invented this damn game should be nice and warm in hell. It’s stupid,” he added as his ball went way off course. “How in the hell do so many people like this game?”
“Don’t blame the game, blame the player,” Eyes said with a laugh.
Eyes took his next shot, utterly failing, then stood back as Brackish lined up for his next swing. Just as he was about to hit the ball, Eyes called out to him. “I got us some help.” Brackish completely missed his ball as Eyes shouted the words.
“Seriously, Eyes!” Brackish snapped, turning with a glare. Four women stood next to Eyes, giving Brackish flirty smiles. One of them stepped closer to Brackish, confidence in her expression and in the way she walked.
“Your friend said you’ve never played before. We offered to help, to give you some pointers,” the woman said. She was tall, nearly as tall as Brackish, with legs that didn’t stop, a skirt that was barely decent for public, and a chest he was sure she’d paid tens of thousands of dollars for. She moved up next to him, took the club from his hand, and told him to step back and watch her work.
He moved over with a bored expression as she bent to move the ball into place, her skirt hiking up, showing the bottom of her ass encased in a skimpy pair of hot pink panties. She was a fine woman, but he wasn’t interested — not when another woman was on his mind.
Brackish watched how she swung the club. She braced her feet and then swung, the move so smooth the club was like an extension of her body. It was a great swing. The ball soared into the air after a crisp sound of club hitting ball echoed in the air. It went straight down the pipe, landing only inches from the pin.
A score of ninety-five appeared beneath Brackish’s name on the screen and Eyes glared at him. “Seriously? I didn’t think that one through. That score doesn’t count for our bet!” Eyes snapped.
“You brought the girls, and it’s under my name, so it counts,” Brackish countered, a smug smile resting on his lips.
“Erase it,” Eyes said.
“I have no idea how to erase scores,” Brackish said with mock innocence. “This computer thing-a-ma-jig keeps it forever, I think.” He looked at the computer as if he’d never seen one before. Eyes wanted to call him out on it, but he clamped his lips shut.
The ladies began laughing and told the men they’d love to join them.
“Well, one of you needs to hit under my name,” Eyes said, making them giggle harder. Eyes knew it was an act, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed the company of the opposite sex, even if it appeared Brackish didn’t feel the same way.
“I thought this was a guy’s day out,” Brackish muttered in Eyes’s ear.
“Suck it up, buttercup. You’re smiling, so let’s enjoy the afternoon.”
Brackish rolled his eyes, but they actually did have a good time. The ladies were flirts, but once the stories began from Eyes with Brackish joining in, and the ladies gave them some lessons, they both had a good time. For at least a few minutes Brackish was able to stop obsessing about Erin, and let it all go. He’d needed that before the men decided to kill him.
While they were nearing the end of their game a group of preppy guys stepped into the station next to them, and they didn’t try to hide the fact they were interested in the women standing with Eyes and Brackish. The one who’d been flirting with Brackish quickly figured out he wasn’t interested so she began chatting with one of the preppy dudes next to them. Brackish rolled his eyes, not at all caring if all four of the women moved on. Eyes might be bummed, but from the way two of the women were all over him, he didn’t see them going anywhere.
“You have a great swing,” the blonde prep school kid said to the woman Brackish couldn’t remember the name of even after nearly an hour.
“Thanks,” she said, a bounce in her step and a sway in her hips. This was the attention she was seeking.
Brackish continued playing while Eyes sat at a table with two of the original four women. He was pretty much finished with the golf game and probably wondering if he could take both women home.
Thoughts of taking a woman home only made Brackish think of Erin again, and that thought took away the smile he’d been wearing for the past hour. Dammit, he didn’t want to live in the dark place he’d been in the past few days. The more he thought of Erin, the angrier he grew. He found himself wrapping his fingers tight around his club. His jaw tightened, his muscles bulged, and his focus was all on the tiny white ball.
Brackish swung the club so fast an audible cavitation of wind could be heard in his bay. The rushing club head was too fast to see as it came back down toward the ball. A loud grunt came next as his follow-through pushed his diaphragm down. Then he toppled over in a massive heap.
Brackish popped right back up, feeling like an idiot. How in the hell was he allowing his anger to control him like this? He was better than that, he was more controlled, more alert, and far too smart to do this.
“Dude, that sucks. You looked like an idiot,” the very unwise man in the next bay said, obviously showing off for the girl still in Brackish’s bay.
“You don’t want to do this right now,” Brackish warned.
“Sorry, but I can’t stop laughing. I wish I had my camera. You looked like a gorilla swinging a toothpick.” The man continued to laugh, and Brackish felt his temper rising. He tried telling himself to calm down, the punk wasn’t worth his time or attention. But a lack of sleep and a seriously grumpy mood were a bad combo for a large man.
Brackish took measured steps up to the divider between their bays. “Keep on talking and you’re going to find out how it feels to have a large toothpick shoved right up your uptight ass.”
“Whatever, dude. Why don’t you calm down from your roid rage,” the man of about twenty-five said with a laugh. He was large, but not as big as Brackish, and he was obviously an idiot if he couldn’t read the danger of the situation.
“Brackish, is everything okay?” Eyes called. Brackish didn’t turn. Eyes wouldn’t be able to hear the conversation from where he was, but he could certainly read the body language, and Brackish was sure his body language was screaming murder.
“Do you need your buddy to come bail you out?” the punk asked. “Maybe you’re all wound up cause the steroids have shrunk your balls and you can’t get it up anymore.”
Brackish didn’t give a shit about the punk, but he wouldn’t allow him to talk this way — not yesterday, not today, and not tomorrow.
The man didn’t have a shot. Quick as lightning, Brackish reached over the plexiglass divider between them, and grabbed the man’s shirt, easily lifting him off the ground. The man’s eyes widened in fear as Brackish’s head moved forward slamming into the guy’s nose, snapping it in less than a second, causing blood to spew over the divider.
The woman who’d been flirting with both of them, screamed and ran away. Brackish didn’t acknowledge her. He dropped the m
an back to the ground on the other side of the barrier, then took a menacing step as he began moving toward his bay.
“Stop now!” Eyes thundered, stepping in front of Brackish. “What in the hell are you doing?” Eyes’s expression was incredulous as he stared down his friend. “Let’s go now!”
As quickly as the fury had overtaken him, it drained back out. What in the hell was he thinking, attacking some punk who was too stupid to know when and when not to smart off?
“Shit,” Brackish muttered, not liking himself too much right then. “Let’s go.”
Without saying more, Brackish turned and walked away, people moving out of his way as he strode by. Eyes was right on his heels, not saying a word as they exited the building. He’d be lucky if the cops weren’t called on him. Chad would kick his ass if that happened. This was all on him, and not anyone else. He’d had far too much training to go off the handle like that.
They reached the parking lot and Brackish turned to Eyes. “I’m sorry about that. It was uncalled for. I was having a good time, and I let that punk get under my skin. Normally I’d never allow that to happen. He’s no more important to me than a fly on the wall. I need to figure out what’s happening with Erin, and if we’re over, I’ll move on, not take it out on everyone around me.”
Eyes looked at him for several seconds before he reached out and patted Brackish’s shoulder. “Women make us crazy. I understand that,” he finally said. “But if we use our skill and training on idiots, we aren’t fit for this job.”
“I agree. It won’t happen again,” Brackish assured him.
“That’s good enough for me,” Eyes said. “We don’t have to bring it up again.”
That was the end of the talk. They drove away from the facility, knowing they wouldn’t be able to go back there again — not ever. They weren’t exactly the kind of men who were easily forgotten.
“I guess my golfing career is over,” Brackish said after about ten minutes of driving. Eyes looked over at him and burst out laughing.
“I don’t think the PGA is too concerned about that,” Eyes replied.
Brackish certainly wasn’t back to himself, but the day had improved his mood. He’d figure it all out, and he’d give himself a bit of a break. Love sucked. That was one thing he knew for damn sure. He hoped he didn’t fall into the love trap — right now it was nothing more than lust and like. If it turned into love, he’d be screwed.
Chapter Fourteen
Joseph Anderson considered himself a reasonable man. Others might laugh at that, but he considered himself a man who thought of all sensible outcomes, weighed a solution, and then dove in. He was a businessman, and he thought on his feet, but not without reason — most of the time.
When it came to Joseph’s wife, all reason went out the window. He’d sacrifice anything for Katherine — anything at all. And when she was hurt, or he didn’t have the answers on how to take her pain away, he certainly went a bit crazy. She was the love of his life. Sure, people said that all of the time. They’d say, I’ve met my partner, my one true love, the love of my life. He rolled his eyes.
Those who used terms such as that didn’t know what they were talking about. If they did, divorce rates wouldn’t be through the ceiling, people wouldn’t give up at the smallest inconvenience. True love, the kind of love Joseph shared with Katherine, was eternal. It was kind, beautiful, and it survived all odds. She really was the love of his life. If she weren’t there with him, a part of his soul would be ripped away. That was a soul mate, the love of a lifetime.
“What in the living hell is taking so long?” Joseph asked as he wore a hole in the floor of the hospital corridor he was currently pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth for hours upon hours upon hours.
“Dad, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to be in the bed next to Mom,” Lucas, Joseph’s oldest son, said. “Come and sit with me. Mom will be just fine.”
“I’d love to be in the bed next to her,” Joseph exclaimed. “And I know she’ll be fine,” he bellowed, his voice rising as he continued to speak, making several heads turn as he picked up his pace. “She’s been in there eight hours. I can’t take much more of this.”
A nurse had been out twice since Katherine had gone in for her brain surgery. She’d told them it was going well, that they were getting the tumor, and that her stats were looking good. But Joseph wouldn’t be okay until he could see Katherine. He needed to see her, to touch her, to feel her warm skin against his. He needed her to open her eyes, to tell him this nightmare was over. The only person who could comfort Joseph right now was his wife.
“They told us the surgery would take all day,” Lucas warned.
“Dammit, I don’t need comforted. I need my wife,” Joseph thundered.
“Dad . . .” Mark, his youngest son, began. But before he could add more, the main doors opened and Dr. Spence Whitman stepped through them alongside Dr. Manstein from Johns Hopkins, and Dr. Raul Molina from Barcelona. All of them had joined together, the best of the best, uniting for this surgery to save his wife.
“Joseph,” Spence said as he confidently moved forward, neither a smile nor frown on his face. Joseph met him halfway, staring him in the eyes. He was demanding good news. Nothing else would do.
“Don’t skirt around this, Spence. I want the truth,” Joseph said, stopping only a few feet from the trio of doctors. He looked from Spence to the other two, and then zeroed back in on Spence, who he’d known since the day he was born.
“She’s alive, Joseph, let me start by saying that,” Spence said.
“Dammit, Spence, don’t give me doctor talk,” Joseph thundered. “This world can’t survive without Katherine in it. The planet will simply stop spinning. I don’t want doctor talk. I want answers . . . right . . . now. I want my wife.”
“Mr. Anderson, the surgery went better than expected,” Dr. Manstein said, taking the lead. “The tumor has shrunken with the treatments she’s been on for the last few months. Her stats were great throughout the surgery, and we’re confident she’ll make a full recovery.”
There were relieved sighs from the group behind Joseph, but no one said a word as they continued to listen. Joseph didn’t focus on his family because he absolutely didn’t like the hesitation in the doctor’s voice. There was something he wasn’t telling Joseph, but Joseph couldn’t figure out what that was.
“Please, for the love of all that’s holy, just tell me what you don’t want to tell me,” Joseph spat.
Spence took over. “She’s in critical condition at the moment, Joseph. This isn’t unusual when a patient has gone through a traumatic surgery like Katherine has. We’re going to keep her in the ICU for the remainder of the night where she has twenty-four-hour monitoring. This isn’t as bad as it sounds. But we need to warn you that she’s hooked up to a lot of machines, and there’s a large bandage wrapped around her head. She’s going to be showing some bruising. I know there’s not a chance we’ll keep you away from her, but you can’t overreact.”
“I’ve changed your damn diapers, Spence, don’t you dare stand there and tell me not to overreact,” Joseph said, tears stinging his eyes. He wanted to bash his way through the halls of the hospital and force his wife to be okay. There’d never been a problem he hadn’t been able to solve, and he didn’t like any major event to be out of his hands. It was driving him slightly crazy.
“What’s next, Dr. Manstein?” Lucas asked as he stepped up beside Joseph.
“I can answer that,” Dr. Raul said. “We’re watching for swelling in the brain right now, which is our biggest concern when brain surgery is performed. Even if there’s swelling, she could have lucid moments, and be in and out of consciousness. We want to monitor that very closely as symptoms don’t always present but can move swiftly and be deadly. As long as we’re on top of it, we can fix it if that occurs.”
“How long is she in danger?” Lucas asked. Joseph found his throat too tight to speak.
“The next forty-ei
ght hours are critical. But you have the best of the best working on your wife and mother, and the staff here care about their patients. There won’t be any missteps. I can say with a lot of confidence that we got the full tumor and you’ll be sitting together next year at this time, relieved this is all over,” Dr. Manstein said.
A tear slipped from Joseph’s eye, and he quickly wiped it away as he cleared his throat.
“Can I please see my wife?” Joseph asked, his voice unusually subdued. It was next to never for him to beg, but he was pleading with these men to get his eyes on Katherine. He didn’t want to bully them into doing his bidding as he had great respect for them. He only wanted to be with her.
Spence reached out and touched his arm. “Yes, we’re going to take you back there, but only you for now, Joseph. We don’t want to risk infection so we’re going to have you suit up. And this first visit is going to be short. She has bandages, but there are open cuts on her head and we want to keep her as safe as possible.”
“I understand,” Joseph replied. “I do appreciate how well you’re taking care of her.”
