The couple had contacted Flynn months ago about this project. Their log home already had been approved for them to receive their foster care license. But they’d decided they wanted to change a few things.
Flynn warned them that it would take some time before the logs matching their home would be dried and cured so that he could use them. Early this morning Flynn had received the phone call informing him the shipment was ready. He immediately scheduled delivery of the logs for tomorrow morning.
For Flynn, this worked out great. Last week he’d poured the basement’s concrete footings and walls. Tomorrow he would supervise the unloading of the logs from the semitrailer. After that, Flynn would put in a call to some men who usually helped him when he took on a construction job, and they would fit the logs together to build the walls of the addition.
An image of sweat-coated skin glistening in the moonlight invaded Flynn’s mind. His fingertips tingled at the memory of that silky smooth skin. Flynn wondered when a certain pretty baby was going to contact him. He mentally shook his head. The kid probably came to his senses and figured out Flynn was too old. Even if it were true, it kind of sucked.
* * * *
Doctor Victor Bronson moved his fingertips in small circles over Tony’s left pec. He took a lot of time going over the inside of his underarm. Tony felt naked without his nipple ring, but the technicians had made him take it out when they performed the ultrasound and MRI on him the day before.
Doctor Galen hadn’t wasted any time ordering those tests, along with drawing a million tubes of blood during his appointment yesterday. By the time Shane ushered him into the house late in the afternoon, Tony had been physically and emotionally exhausted. Of course being exhausted didn’t mean he’d gotten a wink of sleep last night. Even lying under Shane’s big body couldn’t stop the worry eating at him.
Today, Tony was in the care of Doctor Bronson. It terrified him that Galen had made an appointment for Tony to see an oncologist right away the next day.
The doctor moved to Tony’s other side and started the process of examining that pec. Tony’s wasn’t surprised that he spent quite a while on the lump before moving to his underarm.
“So what do you think, Doc?” Tony asked. Part of him wanted to jump up and disappear where no one could find him.
The doctor stepped away from the table and sat down on a small rolling stool. While Tony sat up, the doctor studied Tony’s folder. Tony looked at Shane helplessly. The big man sitting in the corner stood and went to Tony’s side.
Fingers linked through Tony’s. Never before had Tony been so grateful for the solid, stable rock that was his Shane.
“After reviewing all the results from your tests yesterday and considering your family history, I’d like to schedule a biopsy.” The doctor’s light-blue eyes never wavered as they gazed at Tony. “Your insurance will allow me to send the samples I collect right to the lab. If they are malignant, I can immediately perform the surgery we’ve agreed on beforehand.”
“Samples?”
“Yes. I would take samples from the lump and surrounding tissue. I would also take samples from your lymph nodes,” the doctor explained.
“Then what?” Tony asked.
“If there is no sign of malignancy, I would take the lump out and some of the surrounding tissue. You should be able to go home the same day,” the doctor informed him.
“And if it’s malignant?” Tony tightened his hold on Shane’s hand.
“That depends on the stage of the cancer and what you want to do, Tony.”
“What are my options?” Tony asked the question but dreaded the answer.
“Lumpectomy, modified radical mastectomy, or radical mastectomy,” the doctor stated.
Tony couldn’t speak through the emotions churning through him. Flashes of his cousin Micah’s concaved, scared chest blinked like a projector through his mind.
“I know a lumpectomy takes out a portion of the breast,” Shane said. “But what is a modified radical mastectomy?”
The doctor pulled out a flyer from a clear plastic file holder attached to the wall. Opening it, he pointed to a picture showing a breast with pink shading covering it and extending over a portion of the underarm. Running his finger over the edge of the shading, the doctor said, “If the malignancy is in the early stages, we remove the skin, breast tissue, areola, and nipple. We also remove the lymph nodes under the arm and lining over the pectoralis. The nice thing about the surgery is that it spares the major pectoralis muscle itself, and you won’t have that concave look.”
“How is that different from a radical mastectomy?” Shane asked.
“With the radical mastectomy, we take everything, including both pectoralis muscles,” the doctor answered.
Tony swallowed and cleared his throat. “Then what?” he managed to choke out.
Doctor Bronson looked at Tony with a kind yet steady expression “If the cancer is in stage one or two, after the surgery you will undergo a few weeks of radiation. If it has progressed to stage three or four, you will have the radiation followed by chemotherapy.”
Shane’s quiet, quick intake of a breath threatened Tony’s tiny thread of control. He tried to keep his breathing even so the gray spots forming in front of his eyes were kept at bay.
“What about the chemo pill?” he asked. That had been an option for his mother.
“At your age, Tony, and given your family’s history, I wouldn’t recommend the pill.”
Shane had a few more questions, which the doctor answered patiently. By then thick numbness had invaded Tony’s soul and he was forcing himself to function through the debilitating shock. Just when he thought this part of the nightmare over, the doctor dropped another bomb.
“Tony, other people with a similar family history sometimes choose to have both breasts removed to prevent any reoccurrence of breast cancer. I’m not saying that I recommend it in your case. But it is an option.”
A half hour later Tony was seated in truck, staring out the window. Tony had faced death many times over the years with Rescue for Hire, but nothing had ever scared him more than watching members of his family, one by one, succumb to cancer. Everyone had a secret fear that terrified them down to their very core. In that room, sitting in front of Doctor Bronson, Tony’s fear had been spelled out.
Shane’s big hand came down on top of Tony’s and held on tight. Never before had Tony needed his rock, lover, and his commander’s strength as he did right now.
* * * *
Boone relaxed back into the canvass chair and stared at the golden flames feeding off thick chunks of wood. Nothing relaxed a man more than a cold beer and a campfire.
The only thing better would be if a certain cowboy were sitting next to him.
Buzzing vibrated Boone’s front pocket. A glance at the screen revealed a number he didn’t recognized. It sparked his interest that the area code and first three numbers were the same as the cowboy he was just thinking about.
“Hello,” he answered, hoping to hear the cowboy’s voice.
“Hi, my name is Tony Grayson. We met about five years ago at Whiting Field Navy Base in Milton, Florida. We ended up together fixing a computer navigating system for the Coast Guard before you were called out on a mission.”
Boone pushed aside his disappointment that it wasn’t Flynn on the other end of the phone. Thinking back, he remembered a handsome Italian man whose knowledge of computer systems was extraordinary. One night after spending the day straightening out a radar glitch in one of the computers, they had partied until walking became a problem. Boone had been more than willing to get horizontal with Tony, but Tony had been dating someone at the time.
“I remember you, Tony. How are you?” Boone responded.
“Well, I’ve ran into a health problem that I’m hoping will be cleared up in no time. I’m calling because the company I work for, Rescue for Hire, is getting shorthanded and I’m putting a list together of potential men with certain specialties to present t
o my boss. I was wondering if you’d be interested at being included on that list and are available if my boss decides to contact you.”
After meeting Tony and hearing firsthand about Rescue for Hire, he’d liked what he learned. One day he thought he might apply for a position there. It looked like lady luck was smiling on him today.
“I would like to be included on that list,” Boone said. “I’m between things right now and am taking a break. But I had planned on looking for work in the next week or so.”
“That works out perfect,” Tony said
Over the phone Tony’s voice sounded relieved. Boone’s senses were telling him Tony’s heath was worse than he was letting on and that Boone was going to be contacted by Rescue for Hire soon.
“All right then, I’ll be waiting for a call,” Boone said.
“Have a great time on your camping trip,” Tony said.
Boone chuckled. “With your computer abilities, why am I not surprised you know exactly where I am?”
“Because you would do the same thing,” Tony said.
Both men were laughing when the call ended
Boone sat back and pictured a bearded man with a gorgeous hairy chest wearing a straw cowboy hat. As far as he was concerned, their reunion was one step closer.
* * * *
Shane didn’t move a muscle. They’d taken his reason for living away over an hour ago. Shane waited, never taking his eyes off the door, hoping a nurse would come out and tell him what was happening inside the operating room.
“Breathe, Shane,” Cade said quietly.
Shane automatically pulled air into his lungs. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Tony could have cancer.
“I should be in there with him,” he stated.
“You tried, man. But the doctor smartly told you, you don’t belong in an operating room,” Cade pointed out
“I should be with him,” Shane said again.
“Right, and the second the doctor cut Tony, you’d have him pinned to the wall by his neck,” Cade pointed out.
Shane nodded, acknowledging that Cade had a point.
“Tony came to my office for a private meeting the other day,” Cade said.
That got Shane’s attention. Turning his head, he looked at his brother sitting next to him. “What did he say?”
“He pointed out that Rescue for Hire is running with the bare minimum of personnel, and he recommended I start looking for a few more people.”
“You aren’t thinking of replacing Tony just because of this, are you?” Treble straightened from his slouched position in a chair near the corner of the room. He was the team’s weapons expert, and nobody could deny he had an attitude.
“No,” Cade said firmly, looking at everyone to reassure their small group. Every member of Rescue for Hire and their partners were gathered around, showing their support for Shane and Tony. Some of Tony’s family sat on the other side of the room. They had come and talked with Shane for a while, but gradually they found chairs near the television and soda machine.
“So what are your thoughts, boss?” Jack asked. He had been the head paramedic for the team until a rescue went wrong, injuring him and Cade, taking them both out of the field. Jack now kept all the equipment in top condition and took care of ordering and keeping their supplies stocked. He also, along with their current field medic, Gabriel, taught basic first aid and CPR classes.
“Tony recommended a few people for me to look into. I’d like to bring one of them here immediately for an interview,” Cade said.
“What’s he got, boss?” Damian, the pilot for the company, asked.
“Ex-Navy, specializing in electronics and bombs,” Cade answered.
“Electronics?” Gabriel asked.
“He’s an expert in computers, navigational equipment, and telecommunication devices that I’ve never heard of but can’t wait to see,” Cade explained.
“Will he fit in?” Alex asked. He had been the head tracker before a bullet ruined his hip. A hip replacement allowed him to walk again. Now he was working with law enforcement and accepting government contracts to train dogs and teach people the art of tracking and finding people.
“He’s gay, knows his stuff, and from all reports is wild as hell,” Cade said.
“Well, I’d say he’s going to fit right in.” Rock laughed, before raising one tattooed arm, and pushing a long dreadlock over his shoulder. Rock was the team’s new tracker.
The door opened, and a nurse walked into the room. Shane’s heart started pounding hard as she walked toward him.
“Mr. Miller, everything went well, and Tony is in recovery right now,” she told him. Shane stood up, ready to go to Tony. The nurse shook her head. “Relax, Mr. Miller. The doctor will be here soon to talk to you. By then, Tony should be out of recovery and back to his room. You can see him then.”
Shane wanted to be with Tony now, but he needed to know what had happened in the operating room. At best, they’d cut out the lump and Tony could heal and go on his way as usual. Shane couldn’t think of the ramifications if it was bad news. He wasn’t sure how he would react.
A long half hour later, Doctor Bonson walked into the room. Shade stood, trying to brace himself for what the doctor was about to tell him.
“Would you like to come into this private room?” The doctor gestured to a room off of the waiting room.
“It’s not big enough for us all, and everyone here is Tony’s and my family. Whatever you have to say can be said to us all,” Shane said.
“Okay. Well, sit,” the doctor ordered.
“Is Tony okay?” Shane asked.
“Yes, Tony made it through surgery very well,” the doctor said. “Shane, the biopsy of the lump came back malignant.”
Chapter Six
Shane’s stomach seized, and part of him waited to hear the gun report from what had just felt like a bullet ripping through him. Helplessly, he looked at the doctor.
“We’ve caught the cancer in its early stages. We ended up doing a moderate radical mastectomy on one breast, as was Tony’s decision if the results proved positive for cancer. We left both pectoralis muscles but did take the lymph nodes as a precaution.”
Cade’s hand squeezed Shane’s arm. Shane still couldn’t speak.
“What happens next?” Cade asked.
“We’ll let Tony take a couple of weeks to heal, and then the team will prepare him for radiation,” the doctor answered.
“How long will his radiation last?” Cade asked. Shane was glad his brother had taken over.
“Five days a week for three weeks,” the doctor answered before looking at Shane. “I’ve placed a few tubes in his chest to drain any excess fluid. The nurse will make an appointment for him to come in later in the week and have them removed.”
Shane nodded.
“Do you have any other questions, Shane?” the doctor asked.
Shane shook his head no.
Doctor Bronson put his hand on Shane’s arm. “I know this wasn’t the news you had hoped for, but things went well in there. We’ve already discussed statistics and percentages. Tony’s are very good, and he is receiving the best care. I’ll check on him later tonight and tomorrow. He should be able to go home the following day. If you have any questions or concerns, call my office.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Shane managed to say. Inside he was screaming.
* * * *
Boone squeezed the throttle of his Polaris 800 four-wheeler. The three riders following him sped up and kept pace. He skillfully maneuvered a series of sharp curves on the remote trail through the thick woods. The three behind him had no trouble keeping up.
For the last week, Boone swam the lakes, climbed the sheer rock ledges, and enjoyed racing the four-wheeler over designated trails of the campground and the surrounding national forest. A couple of evenings he took out his Harley and enjoyed the night breeze on the back roads. For the first time since getting out of the Navy, Boone finally felt more like himself
and not a caged rat.
Two days before, Boone had acquired three tagalongs. They followed and observed everything he did. It became obvious pretty quickly that they were making no effort to be subtle about it.
For a while, Boone had fun seeing if they could keep up with him. But now Boone had enough. If they wanted a cat and mouse game, he would give it to them. Veering off the trail, Boone parked the wheeler in a grove of small willows and took out a six-foot cable and padlock. After locking the wheeler to a tree, Boone took off running.
For the next two hours, Boone avoided Single-braid, Dreadlock, and the Other Guy. Fifteen minutes ago, they had separated in their search of him. From his perch high up in an old oak tree, Boone watched Dreadlock meticulously and expertly follow the elaborate trail Boone had created. Other Guy was good but not quite in the same category as Dreadlock.
Single-braid intrigued Boone. He watched the man use every one of his senses as he walked toward Boone’s tree. Single-braid didn’t say a word or react in any way when he spotted Boone in the tree. He just started climbing toward him until he was sitting on the thick branch below and kitty-corner to Boone.
“You’re good,” Single-braid stated relaxing back onto the branch.
Boone looked down at the man with hair so black it reminded him of a raven’s wing. He was shorter and thinner than Boone with skin the color of coffee mixed with cream, and his eyes tilted at the corners. Instinctively, Boone knew the man could and would kill him in a heartbeat if he felt like it.
“What’s your name?” Boone asked.
“Treb Walker,” the man answered.
“Why are you and your friends following me?” Boone watched Treb scratch his nose. A knife glinted from a strap attached to his wrist. It matched the strap and knife encircling Boone’s wrist. That told Boone the man had major self-defense skills and more than likely had been a member of Special Forces.
Boone's Cowboy [Rescue for Hire 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 4
