by Jacki Renée
James cries out.
Once I’m sure the bandage won’t unravel, I stand and pull off the gloves.
“I need your help, Danielle.”
“What do you need?”
He takes my left hand, kissing my fingers. Anger flashes across his face. “Where’s the ring I gave you?”
“In my jewelry box.”
“You were told never to take it off. But I guess you had to when you married that traitor.”
“I didn’t marry him.”
“Then why did you take it off?”
He’s angrier about the ring than he is about me being with Bryan.
“It’s been nine years, James.”
He stands, running his fingers down my cheek and leans in to kiss me.
I turn away.
“You denied me your body for years. Why did you so easily give yourself to him?”
I step around him and pick up the bloody gauze and melted icepacks. He doesn’t deserve an answer.
“Bryan has my laptop. Can you get it for me?”
“You said Kimberly gave it to you.”
“She gave me a dummy.”
“How do you know it’s a dummy?”
“This one didn’t make a sound when you sat at the table.” He points to the dinosaur laptop sitting amongst the clutter on the table. “And the CD drive didn’t open.” It looks just like the one Bryan left on his nightstand the first time he left on an urgent business trip.
“Why would that happen just because I’m near?”
“I don’t have time for a Q & A,” he snaps.
“How do I find the laptop?”
“I’ll give you the tracking code.” He tears a piece of paper from a notepad, scribbling two sets of numbers on it. “I’m giving you the number to where I can be reached.” He hands me the torn paper.
James pulls me into his arms. I lean away from his lips.
“I’m hungry.”
He shakes his head. “What do you want?”
“Turkey sandwich.”
“The bathroom is over there.” He gestures behind him and opens a duffle bag, pulling out clothes. “There’s another pair of sweats and stuff you might need in that bag over there.” He points to a black backpack near the bathroom door.
I turn my back on him when he steps out of his briefs.
“Still can’t look at me in the buff?” he taunts.
“I’ve seen you naked, James, and I’m still not impressed.” I smirk even though he can’t see my face.
“Ouch.” He laughs and bumps my shoulder as he walks past me, giving me a view of his toned backside. He still has thick, muscular, runner’s thighs. James ran track in high school.
He takes a bottled water out of the mini fridge and turns to face me.
My gaze drops to his feet as he walks past me again. Bumping my shoulder, again.
I finish cleaning up the makeshift triage area while he gets dressed.
“I’ll be back,” he says. The room door closes behind him.
I pick up the backpack and go into the bathroom. Before turning on the shower, I inspect the cleanliness of the tub.
I strip off my clothes and glimpse my stomach in the mirror over the sink. My hand slides over the bump. I take off the wig and open the complimentary packaged shower cap, putting it over my hair.
Rummaging through the backpack, I find a bar of soap and body lotion. James remembered.
I step under the hot water, thinking about Bryan’s and James’s versions of events.
Who is telling lies to hurt me? Who is telling lies to protect me?
I step behind the camera. Fast forwarding through parts, and slowing down others, I view my life with both men.
Distracted by my thoughts, I don’t notice when the shower water transitions from hot to warm. Warm to cold.
I turn the knob and step out of the tub. The scratchy hotel towel dries my body and I use the body lotion to moisturize my skin. I put extra lotion on my stomach, sides, and hips.
I get dressed.
“James forgot to buy socks.” I tiptoe out of the bathroom and go over to one of the duffle bags to get a pair of his.
Bending over, I unzip the top and peek inside.
I zip it and back away.
It’s full of devices with timers.
My fingers shake when I unzip the next duffle bag.
Curiosity has me going around the room unzipping duffle bags and backpacks to see what’s inside. A plan formulates in my mind.
Both men are dangerous. I need to get my girls and get out of Boulder. Technically, I know it’s a kidnapping, but I’ve loved Emma from the moment she came into my life. It’s not her fault her father used her.
I get my engagement and wedding rings out of the pocket of the uniform pants. The scrap of paper James gave me falls to the bathroom floor.
***
“I swear those people kept getting the order wrong on purpose.” James clears his equipment off the table. We sit down to eat.
He tells me about being held by the Directorate in Syria. I yawn out of boredom and wait for him to make the first move.
“Remember senior year? We broke up for two months because Ashley Hudson told you she was pregnant by me?”
I nod. Where is he going with this story?
“You guys were on the football field. She was describing my body to prove we were screwing?”
I remember.
“She got stumped when I asked her about my birthmark. You didn’t even know I had one until I pulled you behind the bleachers and dropped my pants. Once you saw it you charged that field like a soldier going to battle and beat her lying ass from one end to the other.” He laughs. “Ashley looked like she’d been attacked by a mob. You”—he kisses my knuckles—“didn’t have a scratch on you.”
She was so convincing, and I was ready to leave him for good. His birthmark saved him.
“You went to battle for me once I proved my innocence. I’m sure Hawk told you a convincing story, but he’s lying. I need you to trust me. I need you to go to battle for me again. Once I have the laptop I can prove everything.”
“I remember seeing an old laptop in his office,” I tell him.
“You think it’s mine?”
I give him the ‘are you kidding me’ frown.
“Bryan has a new age, high-tech building. That outdated laptop looked out of place sitting on his desk. I remember hearing a bell like at a boxing match.”
James’s face lights up. “How will you get into Hawk’s building? It’s more secure than a military base.” He jumps up from the table, packing his backpack.
This is too easy. “I have access.”
“How did you get it?”
I throw his words back at him. “We don’t have time for a Q & A.”
James picks up a tablet, zigzagging his finger across the screen. He taps it a few times and turns the tablet for a landscape view. He waits.
His finger taps the screen again. And he waits.
“Fuck! The Wi-Fi is down.” He tosses the tablet onto the bed.
I get nervous when he pulls a gun from under the mattress.
“Come on, Danielle. We have to go.”
I stand and follow him to the door; he’s dialing a number on a cell phone.
“What the fuck is going on? Something’s blocking my signal!”
James pulls a small device out of his pocket, tossing it on the bed along with the cell phone. He cracks the door open, poking his head out. He looks back at me. “Let’s go,” he whispers.
We step into the dimly lit hall. Dawn’s light shines through the window at the end.
“We’re going down the stairs,” he whispers.
I nod and step ahead of him walking toward the stairwell exit. I reach to open the door...
“So, we’re at an impasse, Hawk?”
“I guess we are, Edwards.”
Both men have guns on each other. And a gun on me. Correction, one is pointing a gun at me, the other’s
is aimed over my shoulder.
Bryan’s covered in black from head to toe, including the bandana over his nose and mouth.
“You enjoy fucking my wife?” James asks.
Bryan chuckles. “Every. Fucking. Minute. Of. It.”
James sneers at him. “My brother didn’t deserve to die.”
I gasp. What brother?
“You shouldn’t have played this game with him,” Bryan responds.
“I knew you followed Kimberly in Canada.”
“You knew because I wanted you to know. Just like you found Danielle because I wanted you to find her.”
“Bullshit!” James spits at him.
“You got what I wanted you to have, when I wanted you to have it.”
How long has Bryan known James is alive?
“I’m good at what I do.”
“I’m better.”
Gee. Cocky much, Colonel?
“She’s leaving with me.”
Pushing the cross bar on the door, cracking it open, I hope and pray I chose the right one.
Bryan shifts to the side.
“I’m leaving by myself!” I tell them.
“No, bitch. You’re leaving in a body bag.”
The first bullet hits my shoulder. Pain spreads down my arm to my fingertips. The second bullet hits me in the chest, and I’m forced through the cracked door.
The last thing I see is him aiming both guns at me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Tumbling.
Rolling.
I fall down the stairs, curled as tight as I can to protect my baby.
Multiple gunshots ring out.
Everything happens simultaneously. I land at the bottom. The gunfire stops.
There’s a moment of complete silence. An eerie stillness in the air. My brain does a mental status check. I’m lying on the cold cement. My shoulder throbs. My chest aches. My hipbone hurts. I dare not move or take a deep breath.
The door I fell through hits the wall. Clunky rapid footsteps descend the stairs.
“Dani!” He sounds terrified. “Dani, can you hear me?” His asks. “Baby, please answer me!” His voice cracks.
I open my eyes as he drops to the floor in front of me.
The door hits the wall again. “Don’t move her, Bryan!” Ignacio commands. Clunky footsteps come down the stairs.
Pain spreads through my body. I take a long blink.
“Keep those pretty brown eyes open,” Bryan pleads.
Pounding footsteps charge up the stairs.
“Aw fuck!” Vin cries out, something or someone drops near my head. “He fired so I fired.”
Bryan smiles. “She’s wearing a vest.”
“How do you know?” Vin sounds worried; I judge his emotional state from the quiver in his voice.
“Her chest is flat and bulky.”
“Good girl,” Vin whispers in my ear.
A brace is eased around my neck causing me to moan at the slight movement of my body.
“Where’s that fucking backboard?” Ignacio’s question is enhanced by his Spanish accent.
I need a moment to breathe. I close my eyes and inhale. Pain shoots through my chest.
“Keep those beautiful brown eyes on me.” Bryan kisses my cheek and my eyes fly open.
“Is Dani okay?” Anthony asks. The sound of his boot-covered feet being pushed faster than they’re used to moving floats up the flight of stairs.
“We need to get her off the ground and to the hospital.” Ignacio is the calm one, but he sounds anxious.
“This is the smallest I could find,” Anthony pants.
“It’ll do,” Ignacio says.
Something flat is placed against my back.
“On three,” Ignacio instructs. He’s at the top of my head.
Bryan shifts, his hands on my thigh and hip. Someone grips my feet.
“One. Two. Three,” Ignacio counts.
I’m rolled onto my back with Ignacio guiding my head and neck.
I cry out. Tears of pain roll down my temples.
Right away, they begin to strap me down.
“You’re okay. You will be okay.” Bryan kisses my lips and wipes away the tears. “Who’s got Edwards?” he asks.
“Porter and Mills with Miller and Brown doing sweeps,” Anthony says. The straps across my feet tighten.
“I need you in charge, Paul,” Bryan says. The straps across my hips tighten, followed by the straps across my chest, pinning my arms to my sides.
“Negative, Hawk. We stick together.” The tone of his response shocks me. It’s the vow of devotion to their brotherhood.
Ignacio places a strap across my forehead, ensuring my head and neck do not move.
“Negative.” Vin speaks before Bryan’s mouth forms the first word. His devotion to his friend is evident in the tone of his voice too.
“We’re sticking together, Bry,” Ignacio confirms.
In this moment of crisis, I finally understand the dynamics of their relationship. These four men have a bond stronger than a typical friendship. Their job brought them together. Their brotherhood can only be broken by death.
“Leave Porter in charge, call in Anderson and Ricks for sweeps. Put Brown on inside watch, Mills on outside watch, and Miller on security,” the Colonel orders. “Instruct Porter not to disclose information to anyone but you.”
“Roger that,” Anthony says and repeats the instructions into his sleeve.
Vin and Anthony slip the straps of rifles across their chests so that their weapons rest on their backs. They bend to take a handhold on the backboard.
“Wait, Bry. Switch with Tony. Your left arm isn’t strong enough right now,” Ignacio says.
The two men change and they lift the board off the ground.
They carry me down the next flight of stairs. Each man in sync with the other. The board isn’t jostled or off kilter. If I closed my eyes, I’d swear I was being carried by one man.
They exit through the emergency door to an ambulance parked near. I’m placed on a stretcher.
The act of inhaling and exhaling brings unimaginable pain to the spot in my chest where the bullet hit the vest.
Vin kisses my forehead, and then I’m loaded into the back of an ambulance. Bryan and Ignacio climb in too.
Anthony smiles. Too bad he can’t hide his real thoughts from showing in his eyes. He closes the doors.
Ignacio immediately starts an IV line. I concentrate on the wail of the sirens. We’re moving fast.
“Can you hear me?” Ignacio asks.
“Yes,” I answer.
“What’s your name?”
“Danielle Ha— Danielle Tatum.” I’m not an Edwards either.
“When’s your birthday?”
“February fourteenth.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Chest, shoulder, and left hip.”
“What about your back?”
“No.”
My shoes are removed.
“Can you feel this?” he asks as something pricks my toes.
I wiggle them. “Yes.”
“Is the baby moving?” he asks.
“No.” My voice shudders. More tears seep from the corners of my eyes, sliding down my temples.
Oh God, please let my baby be okay!
Ignacio picks up a cell phone. “Have Dr. Jessica Hawk meet us in the ER. How long, Barrett?”
“Twenty minutes,” the person up front says.
“ETA twenty minutes,” Ignacio says.
He pulls on surgical gloves, taking scissors from a compartment behind him, and cuts the sweatpants.
“I’m checking to see if you’re bleeding.”
My eyes go to Bryan.
Fear clouds his eyes as his friend cuts and peels away the material.
“How did you find us?” I ask Bryan. I really don’t care how. I’m trying to distract myself from the possibility my baby didn’t survive the fall.
“Tracking device in your engagement ring.” Brya
n sounds grateful for thinking of that little detail.
“No signs of bleeding,” Ignacio relays to the person on the phone.
“Is the vest too tight?” Bryan asks.
“Yes.”
He uses the scissors to cut the sides of the sweatshirt, and unsnaps the chest armor.
I exhale and pain shoots through my chest. “Ow,” I moan.
Uncertainty flashes across Bryan’s face.
Ignacio continues to evaluate me, relaying my vitals to the person on the other end of the call. I concentrate on the sirens and not the medical terms he’s using to report my status.
Bryan and Ignacio are still wearing black bandanas tied around their heads. If I wasn’t so emotionally hurt, I’d appreciate how good Bryan looks in that uniform.
The ambulance tilts downward, then comes to a halt.
There is a flurry of activity. Bryan throws a sheet over me. Vin and Anthony help pull my stretcher from the ambulance. Ignacio shout instructions in Spanglish.
The four men run, pushing the stretcher down the corridor of the hospital. They move like four parts of the same machine as they bulldoze their way toward the emergency room with Vin leading the way.
Anthony yells at people to get the fuck out the way or he’ll bust-a-cap in their ass.
Bryan focuses on me.
Somewhere in between, Ignacio is speaking a language I don’t recognize. But whatever he’s saying makes three nurses fall in line.
The men maneuver the stretcher around a corner and into a room without sending me flying off.
“You’re okay, little sis,” Vin whispers.
Anthony hugs Bryan first, then turns to me. “We’re right outside,” he whispers and kisses my forehead. He places his hand on the sheet covering my stomach and clasps hands with Bryan, who clasps hands with Ignacio, who clasps hands with Vin, who places his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. They’ve formed a circle around me.
Anthony closes his eyes. All four men bow their heads.
I watch and listen to Anthony pray. It’s obvious he has a strong religious background. And at the end of the prayer, all four men say in agreement, “Amen.”
Anthony and Vin leave the room.
The sheet is pulled away and the cut sweatshirt removed. Someone places a different sheet over my top half and another covers my bottom half, leaving my midsection exposed.
