WAITING TO HEAR ABOUTHammer’s condition was anguishing to say the least. Officers Lang and Daniels were able to corroborate our stories, verify that both Vic and Mark were trained, licensed bodyguards who had permits to carry guns and use them if necessary. I couldn’t imagine anyone looking at the set of circumstances and deciding that they weren’t reacting within their rights. I wouldn’t allow myself to believe that Mark could go to prison for defending me. I refused to venture down a path where I got to see him during visiting hours through a thick glass window that separated us. I couldn’t imagine living in a world where I couldn’t reach out and touch him any time I wanted to. I felt myself getting upset and decided to put my focus somewhere else and do something helpful.
“I need to make things right with the B&B owners,” I said to Mark while we waited for an update on Hammer. It was the second time that we sat in a waiting room waiting to hear if Timothy Nicholson’s victim lived or died.
“Mitch, you didn’t cause the fire to their home. I’m sure they have insurance to cover repairs,” he replied, practical as ever. You never would’ve known that he shot someone that night.
“I might not have started the fire,” I agreed, “but it was started due to my presence in their home, so I don’t think it’s something they should have to haggle with their insurance over. I can afford to make this right and I will. I think I’ll throw in a nice long vacation at any of our hotels or resorts anywhere in the world.”
“That’s a very generous and kind thing to offer and I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.” Mark looked at me and smiled softly. “You’re not quite the jackass CEO I thought you were when we first reconnected. There’s a lot of depth and kindness inside you that you keep hidden from others, but I’m glad you don’t feel the need to hide it from me.”
“You’re the only person I feel like I can be myself around,” I told him. Mark’s eyes softened at my confession. I could tell he was about to say something, but we were interrupted by Vic coming back from the cafeteria with a cup of strong coffee for each of us.
“It’s not Edna’s,” he said as he handed me a cup, “but it will surely help keep us awake while we wait for word on Hammer from the surgeon.”
Vic was right about the coffee, it was like a thick, oily sludge, but it was definitely packed with potent caffeine. A surgeon approached Lang, Daniels, and Harmon with an update on Timothy’s condition. We stayed seated and allowed the officers time to speak with the surgeon before we got an update.
“The bullet was removed from his leg and had missed his femoral artery by this much,” Harmon held up his thumb and first finger and showed us a tiny gap between them. He looked directly at Mark and said, “You’re either one hell of an incredible shot or he was very lucky. I have a feeling it’s the former.” I had the feeling he would’ve fist-bumped Mark if the situation hadn’t been so serious. “He suffered a few cracked ribs from the impact of the bullets to his chest but nothing is broken. He’s going to be very sore, but he’s going to live. As soon as he’s alert I’m going to read him his rights. He’ll be handcuffed to the bed and won’t go anywhere unless he has an armed police officer with him. As soon as it’s safe, he’ll be transferred to heal in the prison infirmary while he awaits trial. He broke probation and I don’t see a judge letting him out on his own recognizance with charges like these pending against him.”
Harmon sounded so sure that Timothy Nicholson was going to be taken off the streets and would no longer be a threat to me. I so badly wanted to believe him, but life had showed me many times that what we wanted and what we got were completely different things.
“He has an accomplice,” Mark said. “What’s the likelihood a deal could be struck with him to reveal the identity of that person?” he asked Harmon.
“You want him to get a lesser sentence?” Vic asked in shock.
“No, not really, but I know that whoever wants Mitch dead will only find someone else to do it. That’s no kind of life for him to live, so sometimes you do have to make a deal with the devil. Either way, Timothy is going away for a long time. He attempted to kill three people, committed arson, and the threats he made to Mitch beforehand count too. I just want Mitch safe by any means necessary.”
“I understand you, man,” Vic said in an appeasing tone because Mark’s voice started to raise toward the end.
“I’ll do everything I can to legally get that information from him. I can’t be interrogating him while he’s under sedation or I would.” Harmon chuckled darkly. “Look, the DA will take these threats seriously and will do everything within the appropriate guidelines to make a deal. Shelia Henley is no fucking pushover. She’s actually badass.”
“The other consideration is his mental state,” I said. “He clearly has severe mental health issues that could make this case harder.”
“Yes and no,” Harmon fired back. “Having a case of PTSD doesn’t mean you can’t tell right from wrong. Yes, he’ll get the mental health evaluation he should’ve had the first time he went to trial, but I’m not sure he’s going to be found incompetent to stand trial. The crimes he pulled off were well planned out and executed, Mitch. This wasn’t a random decision he made that he just started acting on. We’ll just have to wait and see,” Harmon said, patting my arm in assurance. “Think positive thoughts right now.”
Harmon stuck around a little later until he was sure the hospital staff was on board with his plans then he headed to a hotel with a promise of returning in the morning. It was another hour or longer before another surgeon came out to talk to us about Hammer. His body language spoke of being tired, but his shrewd eyes held a look of relief in them and not the dread I’d expect to see of a surgeon about to deliver terrible news.
“Your friend was very lucky.” He offered a reassuring smile. “His heart wasn’t stabbed and the damage to his kidney was a little more than a nick. It was still deep enough to cause internal bleeding, which we were able to stop and save his kidney. We’ll be keeping him in the ICU for a few days to keep a close eye on that kidney.” The surgeon reached over and patted an obviously distressed Vic on the arm. “Why don’t you guys go get some rest because your friend is too out of it for visitors tonight. Leave your contact info at the desk and I’ll authorize them to call you if his condition changes.”
“Okay.” Vic walked over to do as the doctor instructed.
I could tell by the disappointed way he walked that he was hoping to at least be able to see his buddy before he left. I pulled Mark close to me once the doctor left and felt the tension ease out of his body. The doctor was right, there was nothing more that could be done for Hammer right that minute. He was alive and had a good prognosis, but we were all dead on our feet. I called Richard to let him know we were heading his way. He had already booked hotel rooms for us once it was obvious we were going to need a place to stay and that none of us were willing to leave until we knew what was happening with Hammer.
“Let’s try to get some rest so we don’t scare Hammer when we get to see him in the morning,” I told Mark. “He’ll be told he’s going to make it and believe it until he gets a look at three grim reapers entering his room.”
“You’re right,” Mark agreed reluctantly.
We waited for Vic to return to us and told him we booked rooms so we could be rested for Hammer in the morning. I could tell that he knew it was for the best, but the hesitancy to leave his friend was even more obvious. I dropped Mark’s hand and gave Vic a hug. He was stiff in my arms at first, but then he allowed the comfort I offered him to seep into his tense body.
“He’s going to be okay, Vic. The best thing we can do for him is let him rest. We’ll see him in the morning,” I looked at my watch and added, “well, a few hours anyway.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said halfheartedly.
Richard picked us up outside the ER doors and I noticed that both Vic and Mark were on high alert, even though they had no weapons on them. Once we arrived at the hotel, we all went our separate ways except for Mark and me. No way I was letting him out of my sight after what had happened.
“I feel filthy,” he said once we were locked inside the room. “You have enough energy to shower with me?”
“Shower? Yes. Fuck around? Not even for you, Mark.” I knew I was twenty minutes away from collapsing into an exhausted heap, but he was right and we needed to get cleaned up. Smoke from the fire clung to our clothes and hair and the smell of blood was stuck in my nose. I didn’t think the shower could help with the latter, but it was worth a try.
We didn’t say a whole lot while we got cleaned up beneath the hot water, but we did share plenty of kisses. I knew he was feeling as grateful as I was that the night hadn’t turned out much worse. It was truly a testament to their training and smart thinking that none of us were killed that night. Mark wore a deep scowl on his face as he was lost in thought and I kissed him until it faded.
