Natasha rubs her eyes again. “Wing nuts? God. Now I know I’m tired. I’m hearing things.”
Ryker chuckles. “Sweetheart, I think we need to get you a t-shirt with all of your swear words on them. Otherwise, we’regoing to keep having this conversation again and again and again…”
Wren’s fingers fly over the keys as she lets out a delicate snort. “Anyone who spends time with me learns pretty darn quick. Raelynn figured out C. Jacks.” She gets a gleam in her eye and peers over at me. “Cracker Jacks. And you and Natasha are staying in an apartment leased to H. Pucky Barnes.”
I shake my head. “H… Pucky Barnes? I don’t get it.”
“Horse Pucky,” Ryker supplies.
Wren is still typing away, so I glance up at the man. “And Barnes?”
“Bucky Barnes.” Ripper pushes up, but sways on his feet. His fingers flex, a slight tremble to them until he balls his hands into fists. Charlie steadies him by pressing his big body to Rip’s thighs. “The Winter Soldier? From Marvel Comics. It’s one of Graham’s favorite movies. And since that used to behisapartment, we went with it.”
The man shuffles off to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and I squeeze Natasha’s hand. “I’ll be right back, baby.”
She nods and draws the blanket up to her shoulders. We should have gone back to the apartment. At least there, we’d have a bed. And some privacy. Having her head in my lap for the past hour was pure torture. I’m sporting a near constant hard-on, despite the worry beating like a drum against my skull.
“Ripper?” I stop a good ten feet from him. The man spooks at the slightest unexpected sound—probably why Charlie never leaves his side.
“I take it you noticed?” He doesn’t look at me as he refills his mug and adds a single spoonful of sugar.
“The tremors? The dizziness when you stand? Yes.” Now that he knows I’m here, I put my back to the counter only a foot away. He still won’t meet my gaze. Charlie wriggles his sleek body between the two of us, his focus locked on Ripper.
“Not worth talking about, Doc. We got so many TBIs in Hell, I lost count. In the six years after…” He shrugs. “I’m fucked in the head. In a lot of ways. When I remember to stand up slowly, I’m all right. Usually.”
“Did you have any serious infections…where you were?” I ask. “Especially ones that caused nerve pain? Or neurological symptoms? Hallucinations, seizures, numbness…”
Ripper turns to me slowly, the fingers of his right hand brushing over a single spot on his chest. Charlie tenses, whines, and starts licking Rip’s other hand until the man shakes off whatever memory he was momentarily trapped in. “More than one, yeah. Why?”
“Because this might not be related to all those TBIs. It could be POTS.”
His brows knit together. “What the hell is POTS?”
“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Basically, it’s a circulation issue. When you stand, your heart rate shoots up and your blood pressure bottoms out. POTS also causes tremors, sweating, chest pain…”
“Is it…terminal?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
“Fuck, no.” I almost reach for the man before I stop myself. “It’s not curable, but it’s absolutely treatable.”
The spark of hope in his eyes is heartbreaking. “Youcan treat it?”
“You’d have better results if you went to a neurologist?—”
“No.” Ripper almost snarls the word, then curses under his breath. “I don’t… Doctors… No. I trustyou, Doc. It has to be you.”
I nod. “Okay. When Natasha’s safe, we’ll talk about it. For now…drink a little more water with all that coffee. It’ll help.”
He almost smiles. “I’ll try.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Natasha
The clockat the bottom of the center monitor mocks me. Every minute that passes ratchets my anxiety even more. So much so that when my phonedoesring, I yelp loud enough to wake Charlie.
Every member of Hidden Agenda leaps into motion. Wren passes the baby to Ryker and picks up her laptop. West and Graham duck out of the boxing ring where they were sparring, and Inara taps her ear twice.
“Raelynn, switch to channel bravo and make sure Bella stays quiet. The call’s coming in.”
