OUTLIER: Blood, Brotherhood, And Beauty (Beauty 0f Lifee Book 4) Page 8

  Patch was lost in his thoughts—there was real evil in this world—but sometimes it masqueraded as the good guy. Plouffe, Pletcher, Murphy, Travis—supposedly fighting for the good, yet did such heinous things. They sold his little brother. A burning rage built in him—he wanted to rid the world of the wolves in sheep’s cloaks. His fists clenched as he tried not to explode.

  Blaze dropped his head and studied the thin white scar on his left palm. He glanced up when Winds’ left hand gripped his. Their eyes met and registered agreement —the blood oath increased to include more dirtbags.

  Dan observed the general. He could read deep sorrow, regret, and concern in his father’s eyes. “Sir, there is nothing you could’ve done. The fact they paid that much … you know how it works. There is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop it. If not that day, it would’ve been another day. Plouffe just made it easier for them.”

  “I’m so very sorry, son. Nothing I did protected you—it only left you more vulnerable. You paid a high price being my son. I promise you everyone responsible will be brought to justice. Every last one of the treasonous and terrorist blackguards,” William said with a tone of misery and conviction.

  Father and son held each other’s gaze. Their eyes expressed more silently than either could voice aloud. The communication of emotion was pure and free of misinterpretation—both souls tormented by things out of their control. Festering wounds now lanced, released the poison … time would heal them.

  William gave his son a slight nod, and Dan returned it. They came to a silent understanding … the past is ugly—time to move forward.

  Marksmen Enterprises – Rooftop – 1:00 p.m.

  After getting a few hours’ sleep in his car—not wanting to leave a paper trail for a hotel stay, Corporal Cody Merrill began his search for the right location. It had been challenging. He found no optimal building, but the Marksmen Enterprises high-rise office building would be sufficient if needed. Although, Cody thought the name was fitting … he was a marksman, and his hobby was an enterprise that would pad his retirement.

  Taking out Murphy would be fun—he loved his hobby and didn’t like Murphy. The guy was so inept it gave Special Forces a bad name. He knew why Plouffe used Murphy, but if left up to him, he would’ve gotten rid of Murphy eons ago.

  Cody had nothing personal against either Broderick. He actually liked General Badass—he was good to him over the years. Cody felt glum about all the stuff Plouffe blackmailed him into doing to the general. “Too bad Plouffe found out about my hobby,” Cody spoke out loud to himself.

  Delighted the end was near, Murphy did a little jig. Keeping all those unit deployments from the general tended to be difficult—the general was an intelligent man, which kept him on his toes. All the paperwork he had to cover up and forge signatures on. It was all getting to be too much. And all those requests from Blaze’s unit to go after the general’s son after he was taken by the terrorists.

  That required an enormous effort to cover up. Somehow, he accomplished, and the general never suspected a thing. But now, the general was poking around into areas that could bring everything crashing down.

  It was too bad that the general’s son, Badass Jr., was damned hard to kill. He just kept cheating death. Cody had thought he would die at the hands of terrorists, but his unit found him, and he recovered—truly a badass move. But every time Badass Jr. survived, it meant Plouffe was in his face asking for something else. Cody was tired of playing the major’s sick game.

  As he settled into place, Cody thought, nope, have nothing against either Badass. I just love popping heads off more. If I get to pop off Badass Jr.’s head today, maybe I’ll do a pro bono and get rid of Plouffe for the general. That would be a nice thing to do for the general. Yeah, I might just do that.

  Confusing Dr. Fraser

  9

  July 19

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Main Suite – 1:15 p.m.

  After the last revelation, lunch no longer appealed to anyone, and it was mostly left uneaten. The group dispersed to prepare for the funeral. Patch agreed Dan could shower again and Patch would redress his wounds afterward.

  Dan went directly to his room. He figured it would take quite some time to shower and shave in his current state. Shaving with his right hand would be interesting.

  Winds had left for Patch’s apartment to pick up his buddy’s suit for him so Patch could stay and care for Blondie. Lexa, Nick, Bram, and Ray all headed to their homes to dress and to gather the other’s uniforms. Lexa would go to Dan’s place and grab his uniform. Ray would swing by Loki’s home, and Nick planned to stop at Jon’s home.

  Bram’s home was closest to TRF HQ, so he offered to pick up the military uniforms, a vest for Dan, and the team’s sidearms. Nick would meet him there, and they would drive over two TRF SUVs.

  William called Walter and made him aware of the warrant being issued, and once available MPs would be sent to arrest Major Plouffe. Walter asked if the memorial service was already in progress the MP’s wait until it finished out of respect for Aaron. William agreed and notified the sergeant in charge of the MPs. He had finished his shower and was now relaxing in his camo pants and tan t-shirt, waiting for his dress uniform to arrive.

  Jon and Blaze were at the table reviewing the blueprints of the church—refining their security plans. They made the decision to arrive shortly before the start of the funeral to limit Dan’s exposure. Jon placed a call to Charlie Team Sergeant Colton Harmon and requested they hold two seats in the back row for Dan and the general.

  Patch tried to relax in a chair staring out the window. However, he was anxious because the pharmacy had messed up and sent the wrong meds—ones that would cause Blondie to hallucinate. The person on the phone behaved rather rudely, and he had trouble getting them to fix it. They also forgot to send the sling for Blondie’s arm yet claimed they had included it. In his frustration, Patch called Dr. Fraser who agreed to bring the right medication, a sling, and to come and check on Dan.

  Loki sat at the large desk keeping watch on the monitors and working on updating the searches with new parameters when his phone rang. He answered without taking his eyes off the screens. “Hello.”

  Tia grinned as she said, “Hi, Loki. The Boss asked me to call you. They need to make a stop on the way back to pick up the black mourning bands for everyone’s badges. They should be there in thirty minutes, tops.”

  Loki’s eyes lowered as he recalled a nice memory of Aaron—the guy wasn’t all bad—he just didn’t like Dan. Had Aaron lived, perhaps he would’ve made amends to Dan like Alpha Team had done. “Thanks for the update, Tia. Are you planning on going?”

  Tia surveyed the empty and quiet TRF HQ. “No. I offered to cover Alan’s shift. He worked a lot with Delta Team. Alan and Aaron were friends, and he wanted to go to the memorial service.”

  “That was sweet of you,” Loki said as he heard a knock at the door. His eyes swiftly went back to the monitors. He had missed someone approaching the room. Loki relaxed when he recognized the person. “Tia, I gotta go.”

  “Okay, say hi to Dan for me. I hope he’s feeling a little better today.”

  “I will, and he is. Bye,” Loki said as the general went to answer the door.

  William peered through the peephole and saw a man he didn’t recognize carrying a black bag. He glanced over at Loki and wondered why the unit had let him past. They weren’t expecting anyone as far as he knew.

  Loki interpreted the general’s expression. “It’s Dr. Fraser.”

  William assumed his general mask and opened the door. He scrutinized the man—comparing him to Dr. Jasper Pastore. Was this Dr. Fraser any good or should he contact Jasper and bring him in to assess Daniel? Jasper knew what Daniel needed—he had treated him for many years.

  Stepping into the room, Malcolm said, “Hello, I believe I’m expected.” The hard man in front of him eyed him intently. It unnerved him, but Malcolm noticed Jim and relaxed.

  Patch hopped over to the doo
r. Great, it was the doctor, Blondie needed pain meds soon. Patch wanted Blondie well-dosed before leaving for the service. “Dr. Fraser, thank you so much for coming. Were you able to bring the right medication and the sling?” he asked as he ushered the doctor into the room.

  Still looking at the man who had answered the door, Dr. Fraser nodded. The man looked like an older version of his patient. They had the same eyes and rugged facial features. He thought they must be related.

  “Dr. Fraser, this is General Broderick, Blondie’s father. General Broderick, this is Dr. Fraser. He’s been facilitating Blondie’s care and is here to give him a once over. Need to make sure Blondie will be alright for our little field trip to the funeral.”

  Dr. Fraser and General Broderick shook hands.

  Fraser scanned those in the room noting the tenseness but didn’t find Dan. “Where’s my patient?”

  “In the bathroom. Daniel should be done in a few minutes. Please have a seat and help yourself to some food, there’s plenty.” Turning his attention to Patch, William suggested, “How about checking on Daniel? He’s been in there quite a while. He probably needs your help to finish up, especially with his arms in such bad shape.”

  The general thought Daniel might need help with shaving since raising his arms was so painful, and Daniel was left handed to boot. William didn’t want him to have a bunch of shaving nicks from Daniel doing it right handed. As he strode over to his chair and sat down again, William acknowledged he learned a hell of a lot about his son over the past few days. Some things were unfortunate, but many things were beyond remarkable.

  William liked the man his son had become—but Daniel was still stubborn and had declined his offer to help him shave. He insisted he could do it himself. William grimaced—stubbornness and independence were traits he and Daniel had in common. Useful qualities but sometimes they reared their heads when they should give in and accept help.

  His eyes followed Patch until the medic entered the bedroom. William was thankful for the friendships Daniel had forged with people who cared about him. Every last one of them was an honorable, strong, courageous, and compassionate person. Daniel was truly an amazing person to draw people like this into his life. William was proud to have Daniel as a son. He hoped one day Daniel would be proud to have him as a father.

  Dr. Fraser opened a bottle of water and took a handful of pretzels from the table. He noted all the half-eaten plates. People never ate well when a loved one was doing poorly. He read the range of emotions playing across the father’s eyes ending in sadness with a hint of hope.

  He must be hoping his son would recover. The doctor wondered what the hell they were thinking to let Dan go to a funeral. Especially since his father sent someone to help him with the fundamental task of finishing up after using the toilet. Sad, very sad. He might have to put a stop to it.

  Grand Citadel Hotel – Dan’s Room – 1:23 p.m.

  Quite a few minutes later Patch popped his head out of Blondie’s room. “Doc, you can come in now.” He turned, quickly closing the door behind him.

  Dr. Fraser caught the quick flash of something in Jim’s expression—not sure what … maybe concern. Malcolm set the water bottle down, picked up his medical bag and headed for the room. He slowly opened the door, so he didn’t startle his patient and entered the room.

  He closed the door behind him and turned to look at the bed. Malcolm expected to see a frail man lying there. He was speechless. The half dead officer he treated on Monday night and Tuesday morning sat on the edge of the bed … laughing.

  Clad in his boxers only, Dan sat on the bed clutching his right arm around his ribs as he breathlessly begged, “Patch, stop—hurts too much to laugh.” His eyes alight with humor and pain.

  Patch held a small cloth to Blondie’s face beneath his chin as he chuckled. “Sure, but I still say you should’ve let me help in the first place. You suck using your right hand.”

  Dr. Fraser tried to figure out what the heck was going on. Focusing on Jim, confusion evident in his voice, Malcolm said, “I thought he needed help in the bathroom.”

  Patch laughed. “Blondie did. He damn near slit his throat trying to shave with his right hand. Like a five-year-old playing with dad’s razor.” Patch removed the cloth he had pressed firmly against Blondie’s neck and checked to make sure the deep nick had stopped bleeding.

  Dan finally got relief from Patch’s teasing of his mucked-up attempt at shaving when the doctor entered. He peered up at Patch and retorted, “Let’s see you do any better with your non-dominant hand, which just so happens had a bullet go through it a few days ago.”

  “I’m smart enough to ask for help in the first place. I swear, Blondie—you go out of your way to make things tough on yourself.”

  They both shifted their attention to the doctor. It was a well-worn conversation, and neither would give in. Dan would always need to do things for himself and Patch would always insist he should’ve asked for help.

  Still confused, but understanding enough through the visual evidence he misinterpreted the situation, Malcolm Fraser pulled himself together as he walked over to Dan. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay,” Dan said lightly as the discomfort from laughing ebbed.

  “No, Blondie. He isn’t asking for your simple answer. Describe the full state of your health and do it honestly or I won’t authorize you to go to the service.” Patch gave Blondie a warning glare.

  Dan shot Patch a look of ‘damn you.’ He returned his gaze to the doctor and complied. “Mild headache, constant since yesterday with a slight sensitivity to light. Bump on back of head tender. Face and arm stitches itch. Shoulder intermittent level three if I move it. Ribs constant level four to five with shallow breathing. Deep breathing jumps it to a level seven.”

  He simultaneously glared and grinned at Patch. “Hits level nine if Patch makes me laugh. Unable to raise my arms more than mid-way without assistance and jumps to level eight when lifted above mid-way. Right arm level four, and it still burns with movement. Left wrist level three, swollen, grasp impaired. All muscles are stiff and ache and have occasional cramping in my legs.

  “Tired, sleep is fitful, but no nightmares. Able to hold down food. Heart rate and other bodily functions normal. Last pain meds about five thirty this morning. Mental state okay moving to good.”

  Patch patted Blondie on the top of the head lightly. “That’s a good boy, well done. You earned a treat.” Seeing the doctor’s astonished expression, Patch added, “Ex-Special Forces, plus I trained him to self-assess and tell me what I needed to know concisely.” Patch smiled broadly like a proud pet owner whose puppy performed on command.

  Dan growled playfully and swatted Patch lightly in the stomach with his right fist then winced at the motion. Damn, he shouldn’t move like that. Dan hoped the doctor brought the pain meds.

  “Man, the flies are bad in here, Blondie.” Patch chuckled and took a seat in a nearby chair. He missed the wince but suspected Blondie hurt after that move. Patch sat back to watch how the doctor and Blondie interacted. Would Blondie be honest or revert using deflection? Jim liked Fraser, even though they had a rough start—he hoped Blondie would confide in the doctor.

  The interplay between these men intrigued the doctor. Darn, I’ve experienced nothing like this before. Malcolm instantly liked both men. “Wow, wish my other patients could describe at that level of detail. Let’s have a look anyway and see how things are mending.” As he moved to do his checks, he noted Dan’s entire body was the colors of the rainbow.

  Dan scrutinized the doctor as he approached, and when he stopped close to him, Dan said, “Doc, I could use some relief.”

  Patch pumped his fist in the air. Hell, yeah! Blondie asked for meds. This boded well. Dr. Fraser will be an ally like Dr. Pastore had been.

  Dr. Fraser pulled out a bottle of medication and shook out the prescribed amount as he spoke to Jim. “Can you get Dan a drink?”

  “Be right back.” Patch jogged out of the ro
om and returned quickly with a glass of water and a small bowl of frozen strawberry yogurt. “You need something in your stomach, you didn’t eat lunch.”

  Dan downed the pills and ate the frozen yogurt as a fond memory of Brody entered his head. The first time he ate frozen strawberry yogurt was when he recuperated in the hospital after requesting the artillery fire on his position so the insurgents wouldn’t obtain the intel. Sadly, Yankee died, but he survived—somehow. Brody talked him into trying the frozen yogurt. Dan scooped a spoonful into his mouth as he eyeballed Patch. “How’d I rate dessert? I didn’t eat any veggies.”

  Patch smirked and sat down. “You’re special, little brother.”

  Dr. Fraser started his exam after Dan finished the yogurt. He was pleased Jim ensured Dan ate something and didn’t take the medication on an empty stomach. He pulled out his stethoscope and listened carefully to Dan’s lungs as he took deep breaths in. “Your lungs sound clear and unobstructed. You are moving air well.”

  “He knows to do deep breathing exercises,” Patch said.

  “Good.” Malcolm took Dan’s blood pressure. “One twenty-five over eighty-three, not too bad.”

  “Normal for Blondie is one hundred over sixty-five,” Patch shared.

  Fraser noted the information down and took his patient’s pulse. He directed his question to Jim. “What’s his normal resting heart rate?”

  Patch flicked his eyes to Blondie waiting for him to answer.

  “Forty-five to fifty-five beats per minute is my normal resting heart rate.”

  “Impressive, world-class athlete,” Fraser responded.

  “He likes to run,” Patch shared.

  “Me too. Though I don’t get near enough opportunity to do it anymore. Ever run competitively?” Fraser asked.