Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (29 page)

“I’ll take this back to the office, write up a preliminary report and when things settle down a bit over the next few days, we’ll have you come in to sign a statement. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to hold off Special Agent Gomez from barging in on you. How does that sound?”

“Thanks, Drew.” I smile, despite still feeling the anger radiating from Clint, although he manages to growl, “‘Preciate it.”

With a small two-finger wave for me and a chin tilt for Clint, he disappears through the curtain, only to be replaced by the nurse who was in earlier.

“Okay then, let me do a quick check of your vitals, and then you’re good to go.”

Unnaturally complacent, I push up the sleeve of my ‘borrowed’ scrubs so she can get the pressure cuff on there.

“Why the vitals again? I’m fine, don’t have any injuries, why hang on to me?”

The nurse tilts her head and smiles at me. “When your friend brought you in, you were showing signs of shock. Shallow breathing, pasty complexion, clammy skin, and your heart rate was all over the charts, in addition to a blood pressure which was coming up too low. You were showing mild signs of confusion, and although you appeared well able to communicate, there was a slight slur. All indicative of shock.”

“But I wasn’t even hurt.”

“No need, sometimes highly traumatic events can induce shock even if there is no physical injury, although the symptomatology might be slightly different. We make sure with people over forty that they’re not experiencing the early warning signs of heart attack. And you don’t,” she adds quickly, as she checks the readings, measures my heart rate, and jots it all down in a chart at the end of the bed. “All reads a lot better now and you’re free to head out. Will you be with her?” she asks Clint, who is still standing by the foot of the bed.

“Won’t let her out of my sight.” Again with the growling. I twist my head to give him a glare, but it seems to bounce off him.

“Good. Well then, if anything happens, if you feel unwell, you start getting clammy again or get dizzy or confused, come back here right away, okay?”

“We’ll be in the waiting room anyway, waiting for an update for a family member in surgery,” I assure her.

“Stab wound to the abdomen?” she asks, obviously well informed, which admittedly is not hard to do. Cortez Southwest Memorial is not a big hospital. I nod at her and she goes on to say, “Why don’t you have a seat in the waiting room, and I’ll go see if I can find out anything on his condition, alright?” With that she leaves the cubicle, and I turn to Clint who is staring at me.

“Shoulda made you go back to the car,” he says between clenched teeth. “Better yet, should never have left you there in the first place. I’d lost you today? I’d have been done for.”

I get up off the bed and ignore the hand he lifts off the bed to ward me off. Without hesitation, I walk into his space until my front is plastered against his and my arms slip around his back, pulling him as tight as I can. Slowly the rejection seeps out of his body and he curls around me. One arm rounding my shoulders and the other hand sliding in my hair, pushing my head into his chest. Totally surrounded by Clint he whispers, “I swear, I wouldn’t survive.”

Blinking back tears I clench my hands into fists, holding onto the back of his shirt. “Honey...”

-

-

I
t takes everything not to punch my fist through a wall when I find out from the sheriff what happened outside, while I was struggling with that son of a bitch in the trailer. I’ll be forever grateful for Mal showing up when he did. I might not have noticed the full extent of Jed’s injuries otherwise, he could’ve bled out right under my nose. I’d never have forgiven myself. But the thought of Beth coming to harm when I was supposed to protect her, that would’ve ended me.

Still emotional and torn up over Jed, this news hits me hard. Hearing that she’d been forced to draw her brand new gun on a man, and then have his blood and brain matter blown all over her is upsetting enough. Strong though—fuck, is she strong. Even when I’m not sure she should be coming near me when I’m this close to losing it, she’s sure enough for me. No hesitation when she ignores my attempt to keep her at a distance and plasters herself against me.

“I could use a hot drink,” Beth says, shivering under the thin scrubs, “but first lets find the waiting room.”

The waiting room is just down the hall, so I grab a thin hospital blanket off the bed, wrap it around Beth, and with my arm around her shoulders, take her there. Last thing I expect is the packed room that greets us. Emma, Arlene, and Seb are sitting on one side, Joe, Gus, and Neil on the other, and Naomi seems to be deep in conversation with a nurse I haven’t seen around yet. The only one who seems to be missing is Mal.

It’s Seb who gets up first, claps me on the shoulder, and wraps Beth up in a big hug before he’s forced to give her up to the women, who flank her immediately and try to get her to sit down with them. Not Beth, she reassures them she’s all right and comes straight back to me, leans in, and slips her arm around my waist.

That’s how we stay for the next few hours, fueled by an endless supply of coffee and snacks from the hospital cafeteria, with the occasional pocket of soft conversation breaking the silence. It feels like a safe balloon, one where I feel the gnawing worries in my gut for my brother almost suspended, but when the door at the end of the hall opens, the balloon pops. I see the surgeon taking off his mask as he walks toward the waiting area, and my gut twists viciously. Beth curls into me deeper as both of us watch him approach.

“Mason family?” he asks and is surprised when a room full of people responds with ‘
yes.’
Beth’s hand at my waist squeezes tightly, and I try and steel myself for what’s coming.

“Mr. Mason was in very serious condition when he was brought in, having sustained a severe abdominal injury from a large blade knife. The knife almost completely severed a section of his large intestine, damaged his stomach and nicked his spleen. He also lost a tremendous amount of blood. We’ve had to remove the section of intestine that was damaged, repaired his stomach and removed the spleen. We also cleaned out his abdominal cavity of blood, stomach and bowel contents, but need to monitor him closely for infection. He’s been continuously transfused but we are running short on stock.” The doctor takes a look around the room and nods. “Luckily he is A positive. Anyone with A or O type blood can donate. I will have the nurse set up a station in one of the treatment rooms. We get him through to midday tomorrow,” he looks briefly at his watch, “make that today, and we’ll have a better idea of how we’re doing. For now, he’s through surgery, the active bleeding has been stopped, and he’s been started on intravenous antibiotics preventatively. The next twelve to twenty-four hours will be a wait and see scenario.” He nods around the room before saying, “I’ll send Tracy in for those who’d like to donate blood.” With that he’s almost out the door before I catch him

“Can I see him?”

“And you are?”

“I’m his brother, please—I need to see him.”

He hesitates for a moment, before giving in. “Five minutes and only you. Also, you’ll have to be gloved and gowned, I’m not about to take any risks. His system can’t take much more.”

I follow him through the swinging doors, where I am outfitted, and a nurse shows me into a large room with three beds along one wall. Only one is occupied but it is hard to see by whom, because he is mostly obscured by a large number of machines, tubes, and hoses. I can hear the hissing of air being forced and the soft beep of one of the monitors surrounding him. I recognize what is visible of his hair and face. He looks old. Much older than his years. If I didn’t hear the hiss of air going in and out of his lungs and see and hear the beep of his heartbeat on the monitor, I’d think him dead. There is no room to sit in the ICU, and I have to grab onto the foot end of the bed to keep myself upright. I stand to lose so much if I lose him. Years wasted on a woman who wasn’t worth it from the start. Pain constricts my chest when I consider my only living relative, the brother I’d always considered my best friend before things went sour, might not make the night.

I move to the side of the bed and gently take his hand in mine. “I love you, Jed. Not gonna let a little nick get the best of you, are ya?” Careful not to disturb anything, I lean in and kiss his forehead, then his hand, before turning and walking from the room. Hardly notice the tears wetting my face.

When I walk through the swinging doors, Beth is waiting at the other side, her back leaning against the wall. She looks up, takes one look at me, and is in my arms holding me tight to her. My head bent down, face buried in the crook of her neck I let her hold me up. “Looks dead already,” I whisper in her hair.

“He’s not. He’ll fight, if not for him, he’ll do it for you.” She sounds strong and convinced, and I hold on to that.

“Taking Emma home.” Gus appears behind Beth and reaches over to put his hand on my shoulder. “She’s worn out and still insisted on giving blood. Arlene and Seb are in there now. Neil’s already done and has left to do some work. Naomi and Joe are hanging here to take you home when you’re ready.”

I let go of Beth with one arm and stick a hand out to Gus to thank him. Ignoring my hand, he curls his hand around my neck and pulls me in for a half hug. “Be in touch,” he says, as he lets me go, turns, and walks down the hall. In the waiting room, Joe has Naomi cuddled up against him and both stand up when we walk in. Naomi walks over, giving me a hug while Joe slings his arm around Beth. “Joe’s B positive, he can’t donate, but he’s gonna drive you home,” Naomi says.

I shake my head, not wanting to leave, but Naomi isn’t done. “Jed is well taken care of, Clint, but Beth is gonna crash any minute now. She was first in that room donating blood and won’t sit down or rest until you do. I’ll sleep here, so I’m close by. I swear I will let you know of any change.” My eyes slide to Beth, who is leaning heavily into Joe. Not much different than the way I was hanging to her just minutes before.
Fuck
. Time to man up and look after my girl.

“Let’s go,” I tell her, “we need to get some rest.”

She doesn’t even object when I pull her from Joe’s side and tuck her firmly against mine.

“Be obliged you could see us home, Joe.”

“Happy to,” is all he says before kissing Naomi hard, and making her promise to check in with him.

Naomi kisses both Beth and I on the cheek. “Promise to look after him.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I mumble, following Joe out the door, Beth tucked safely under my arm.

-

-

H
e’s close, I can hear the wheezing of his breath behind me, and work my legs even harder. I can’t see where I’m going because the night is dark, and I stumble over something, falling forward on my knees. I try to push myself up, but my hands keep slipping on the slick surface. “
Beth,
” I hear behind me. Franticly, I manage to scramble up partway, only to slip down again. When a sliver of moon peeks through the thick cloud deck, it illuminates a grossly distorted face lying only inches away. A vaguely familiar face, half of it gone, leaving a grisly bloody pulp in its place and I scream...

“Beth! Jesus...”

Strong arms surround me. Slowly the softly mumbled words and familiar scent surrounding me starts penetrating and I stop struggling.

“Beth, baby. I’m here, it’s okay.”

My heart still pounding painfully in my chest, I become aware of where I am. In Clint’s bedroom, in
his
house, with
his
body pinning me to the bed. The events of the past hours rush over me just as I’m trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. I prefer the nightmare. The tears I’ve somehow avoided all day and night, force their way up and out on a large sob.

“Let it out, Bean. Waited for this. For you to let it go,” Clint mumbles in my hair, before rolling back and taking me with him. I’m draped over his chest, with his one hand tangled in my hair, pressing my face in his shoulder, and the other banding me around my back, and I let go.

After what seems like hours, when finally the tears start drying up, I lift my head to find him looking back. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, slightly embarrassed.