Finding Ashlyn, page 27
Mustang and Midas immediately knelt by Ashlyn’s side. Aleck and Pid went to James, and Jag headed for Aiden. Simply having his team with him gave Slate hope.
“Gunshot wound to the left chest,” Slate told them.
“Okay, just stay where you are, keep that pressure on and don’t let go no matter what,” Mustang ordered.
Slate nodded jerkily and stared back down at Ashlyn. She hadn’t taken her gaze from his face. She was laboring to breathe but wasn’t panicking.
“You’re doing great, babe. Just keep breathing, no matter what. Hear me?”
“I hear you,” she said on a gasp.
Slate could hear Pid on the phone, most likely talking to a dispatcher about what was going on. He knew he needed to give his team a rundown of what had happened, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare at Ashlyn and try to lend her his strength.
“You’re doing so good,” he praised.
“Am I going to die?” she asked.
“No fucking way,” he said, a little harsher than he’d intended.
“But he shot me…”
“He got me too,” Slate reminded her. “But I’m gonna be fine, and so are you.”
“I think…being grazed in the arm is…different than…being shot in the chest,” she wheezed.
“That’s my girl. Always disagreeing with me,” Slate said.
“Because I’m right and you’re wrong,” she said weakly.
Slate wanted to yell at the unfairness of what was happening. Intellectually, he knew this was a freak incident. She couldn’t have known Aiden would be at James’s house today. Hell, none of them had a clue he could be dangerous. And yet, here they were.
Sirens sounded in the distance, and Slate said, “Hear that, babe? They’re almost here. The EMTs will get you all fixed up and you’ll be as good as new.”
There was no color in Ashlyn’s face whatsoever now, and she was gasping for air. “No matter…what…happens,” she said between gasps. “I’ll never…regret asking you…to be my friend-with-benefits.”
“Best day of my life,” Slate told her honestly. “Took me too long to get my head out of my ass and see the treasure I had right in front of me, but I’ve never met a woman as perfect for me as you.” He kept talking because he was afraid if he didn’t, she’d close her eyes and stop fighting. “You made me less grumpy, less impatient, and more appreciative of what I have in my life.”
“But you still drive…too fast,” she said, attempting to smile. Then she closed her eyes.
“No! Look at me, babe,” Slate ordered frantically.
It took her a moment, but she forced her eyes back open.
“I love you. More than I ever thought I’d love anyone in my life. Don’t you leave me!” he begged, the tears finally breaking free of his iron control and slipping down his cheeks. “You’ve made me a better man, a better SEAL, a better friend. I need you!”
“It hurts, Slate,” she whispered.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But as the SEALs say, the only easy day was yesterday. Fight, Ash. For you, for me…for us.”
“I will.”
“I know it hurts, but the pain means you’re alive. Don’t give in, please!”
Ashlyn licked her lips and nodded. Then her eyes closed once again, and the tight grip she had on his wrist slackened before her hand fell to the floor.
“Fuck,” Slate whispered, tears steadily falling off his cheeks and onto her shirt, soaking into the material as he hovered over her.
“Everyone put your hands where we can see them!” a loud voice ordered, but Slate ignored it. He wasn’t moving his hands from Ashlyn’s chest. The cop who’d just entered the house would have to shoot him first.
It took a short while for the police to secure the scene and reassure themselves that the men in the house weren’t a threat. Not long after that, the first paramedics entered. And still Slate didn’t remove his hands. Mustang spoke for him, explaining Ashlyn’s condition and as much about the situation as he could.
“You need to scoot back,” one of the paramedics said. “We’ll take over from here.”
Slate couldn’t move. He was frozen in fear.
It was Jag who convinced him to let the paramedics do their job by saying, “You’ve done all you can, Slate. If you want to give her a chance, you need to let them do their thing.”
Slate looked up and met the gaze of the nearest paramedic. Staring him in the eye, he said, “She’s my everything! Please don’t let her die.”
He could’ve sworn he saw a look of determination creep into the other man’s eyes. “I’ve never lost a patient before, and I’m not starting today,” he replied.
Nodding, Slate moved. He lifted his hands and quickly scooted backward, giving up his place by Ashlyn’s side to the two men. They worked fast, cutting off her shirt, getting a quick look at the wound in her chest, then putting pressure on it once again.
“Load and go,” one of the young men said. With the help of his team, they got Ashlyn onto a stretcher and were headed out the front door before two more minutes had passed.
Slate tried to follow but one of the police officers stopped him. “We’re gonna need you to explain what happened.”
Without taking his eyes off the stretcher holding the woman who was his entire world, currently lying motionless, Slate said, “Then you better get your ass in gear, because I’m going to the hospital with my woman.”
Luckily, Aleck stepped in and finessed the situation. Slate was well aware that there was a dead man on the floor behind him, and a good possibility he could be charged with manslaughter, but nothing was going to keep him from being at the hospital with Ashlyn.
“Slate?”
The only thing that could’ve stopped him from following the ambulance right that second was James. Slate turned. Pid had gotten the older man to the couch. He looked at Slate with conviction.
“She’s gonna be all right.”
James didn’t know anything more than Slate did at that point. He wasn’t a psychic. Couldn’t tell the future. But for some reason, those five words settled in Slate’s soul. “I know,” he said, nodding at the man. Then he turned and headed for the door.
Pid was on his heels, keys in hand. “I’m driving.”
Slate nodded again. He was in no condition to drive, and he knew it. The last thing he wanted was to get into an accident and be unable to take care of Ashlyn when she was allowed to come home. And she would be coming home. He wouldn’t accept anything less.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Slate sat in the private waiting room the nurses had unlocked for all of Ashlyn’s supporters. Everyone was there. Elodie, Lexie, Kenna, Monica, Carly, his team and Commander Huttner. Elodie’s friend Kai, from the fishing charter she’d worked for once upon a time. Theo, a regular at Food For All, not to mention several coworkers from the food bank: Jack, Pika, Courtney, Natalie, and Richard. Even Kaleen, one of the bartenders from Duke’s, had heard about what happened and had come to show her support. Then there were the men, women, and children who Ashlyn delivered food to each week…Lori, the handicapped woman’s sister; the Turner family; Jazmin and her baby; and several others who Slate didn’t know.
James was there too. He’d been brought in for tests to make sure he was all right after being drugged by Aiden. He’d refused to go home after he was cleared, and was now sitting amongst Ashlyn’s friends, praying and worrying about her.
It was more than obvious how loved Ashlyn was. She’d touched all these people with her kindness and open spirit. Slate knew he should be talking to everyone, reassuring them, but he couldn’t find it within him to do anything but sit and stare into space, lost in his thoughts.
All the time he and Ashlyn had spent together spun through his head. The times they’d playfully argued. How excited she’d been to show him some of the moves she’d learned at self-defense training. Her frequent laughter. The expression on her face when she was irritated with him. The way her cheeks flushed when she was angry, or upset, or turned on. Her enthusiasm in bed, her willingness to give all of herself even for a casual fling…that wasn’t so casual on either of their parts. He thought about how good she felt in his arms as they slept. How she loved to cuddle. How she could sleep like a freaking rock.
He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.
Slate had no idea how he’d function without her. The panic he’d felt when he thought she was on a date was nothing compared to the soul-deep dread he was feeling right now.
“Duncan Stone?” a man asked, entering the waiting area.
“That’s me,” Slate said, standing so fast he wavered on his feet. Mustang was immediately on one side to steady him, Pid on the other.
Slate had no idea how much time had passed since he’d arrived at the hospital. But his team had been with him for every second. Pid had convinced him to wash his hands and had bought him a T-shirt at the gift shop so he could throw away the bloody one he had on.
When Aleck had arrived, he’d forced Slate to allow a doctor to look at his arm. As he’d thought, it was simply a graze, and a nurse had cleaned and bandaged it. Then Mustang arrived with two police officers, and Slate had told them everything he knew about what had happened. How Aiden had threatened them with a weapon, how he was looking for money to steal, and was planning on kidnapping Ashlyn. He admitted that he’d tackled Aiden, and that the man had cracked his head open on a shelf.
Slate told the officers about the money James had given Ashlyn, and that she’d deposited it into an account for safekeeping.
He held nothing back, only wanting to get the interview done so he could find out something, anything, about Ashlyn’s condition. Instead, he’d waited anxiously for hours.
Aleck told him a short while ago that everything he’d said matched up with the evidence at the scene, and with what James had told the police. Apparently, Aiden had tried to give James a quadruple dose of sleeping pills, but the older man was suspicious of the way his former aide was pushing him to drink his glass of tea. He told the police that Aiden had drugged him in the past without his consent, and realized too late that he’d probably been doing it for weeks.
James had still ingested some of the drugs when he’d reluctantly sipped the tea, but not enough to kill him or keep him asleep for long. He’d heard Aiden’s yelling in the other room, had attempted to get up, and had fallen against his bedside table, knocking the lamp to the floor. That was the noise that had distracted Aiden long enough for Slate to tackle him.
The entire situation was fucked up. From what they’d gathered from talking to coworkers, his boss, and a couple others who knew him, Aiden used to be a dedicated employee and a hard worker. But he’d been hurt on the job about a year ago, and took painkillers to manage his back pain. When his doctor stopped prescribing them, he’d apparently turned to harder drugs, quickly spiraling into addiction, desperate for more of the dope to manage his pain and to keep from going through withdrawal.
The doctor gestured for Slate to step out of the room with him…and for just a second, he hesitated. If he didn’t go with him, the doctor couldn’t give him bad news about Ashlyn. But then again, he couldn’t tell him good news either. So Slate took a deep breath and followed.
Mustang exited the room with him, and Slate was once again grateful his team leader was there. It had been his idea to tell the hospital staff that Slate was Ashlyn’s husband. Slate didn’t think anyone believed him, but since Ashlyn had no other relatives on the island, the staff didn’t call them on it.
The doctor didn’t hesitate. “Ashlyn is out of surgery. The bullet missed her heart by millimeters. She was very lucky. It hit her lung, which was why she was having a hard time breathing. She’ll be moved to ICU shortly.”
“She’ll be okay?” he whispered.
“Barring infection or any other complications, yes,” the doctor said.
Every muscle in Slate’s body seemed to go lax. Mustang wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving Slate the strength to stay on his feet. “When I can I see her?” he asked.
“It’ll be a few hours. She’s sedated right now, and we’ll keep her that way until we’re sure she can breathe on her own.”
“Will you let me know the second I can visit her?” Slate asked.
“Of course. I don’t usually tell family members this kind of thing, but…the surgery wasn’t easy for her. Her blood pressure tanked twice, but both times she managed to rally without us having to resort to medical intervention. Your wife is a fighter.”
Instead of getting upset at the doctor’s words, for the first time, complete relief swept through Slate. His Ashlyn was tough as hell, and she’d done just what he’d begged her to do. Fought for her life. She didn’t give in when it would’ve been easier and less painful to do so.
“I’m not surprised. She’s definitely a fighter,” Slate said.
“And very well loved, if the number of people in that room is any indication,” the doctor said, gesturing to the waiting room behind them. “I’m gonna go check on my patient. Why don’t you go in there and let everyone know the good news.”
“Thank you,” Slate said, gratitude lacing the simple words.
“You’re welcome.” Then the doctor nodded at both Mustang and Slate and headed back down the hall.
Slate turned to Mustang and hugged him. Tightly. His friend returned the embrace. There was a time, not terribly long ago, when Slate never would’ve shared this kind of intimacy with his friends. But the women in their lives had slowly but surely broken down their walls when it came to showing affection.
“Thank you for being there for us,” Slate said quietly. “For saving my life in Afghanistan and every other damn time I’ve needed you…and for believing me when I said I thought something was wrong earlier today.”
Mustang pulled back and put his hands on Slate’s shoulders. The two SEALs’ gazes met, and they shared a long look of understanding. “I’ll never not believe you,” Mustang said after a moment. “You’re my brother in all the ways that count, just as Ashlyn’s my sister. I’d give my life for either of you. I hope you know that.”
“I do, and I’d do the same for you and Elodie.”
Mustang nodded. “I’m so damn relieved she’s gonna be all right.”
“Me too, brother. Me too,” Slate said.
“How about we go let the others know what the doctor said. Ashlyn’s got a lot of friends who would probably really like to hear some good news right about now.”
Slate nodded and took a deep breath. His shoulders dropped, and suddenly he was exhausted. He’d been operating on pure adrenaline for hours. Now that the danger had passed, he felt exactly as he did after a long and dangerous mission.
“After we share the news, I’ll see if I can’t find a place for you to crash,” Mustang said, seeing that Slate was at the end of his rope.
“I need to see Ash as soon as the doc says it’s okay,” he protested.
“And you will,” Mustang replied. “But you don’t need to look like you’ve been awake for three damn days when you do. You need to be her strength for a while, and you can’t do that if you can barely stand. I know you’re an impatient asshole, but you’re gonna listen to me this one time.”
Slate chuckled. “This one time?”
“Okay, you have to listen to me all the time since I’m your team leader. But you’re gonna have to put that impatience aside for once and get some sleep for Ashlyn.”
That, Slate could do. He nodded.
“Shit, I pray getting you to do what I want is this easy in the future,” Mustang muttered.
“Don’t count on it. I’m still a brooding, impatient asshole.”
“Wouldn’t want you any other way. Come on, let’s go share the news.”
Slate walked back into the waiting room, once again awed by everyone who’d dropped everything to come to the hospital and show their support for Ashlyn. It took him way too long to see how perfect she was for him, but he’d finally pulled his head out of his ass. It was a miracle that she’d ever been interested in him in the first place. He was kind of a jerk to her when they’d first met. Condescending, always assuming he knew better than she did when it came to her safety.
The bottom line was that Ashlyn was a giving soul, and he vowed right then and there to do whatever it took to give her the space and support she needed to keep being the kind of person she was. What happened today had been a fluke. Yes, they both probably needed to be a bit more aware of what was going on in the lives of the people she helped, but Slate wouldn’t use injury as an excuse to stifle her. She’d wither away and die if she couldn’t give assistance to others.
He’d always be overprotective and bossy, but for the woman he loved, he’d do what he could to help her spread kindness, and never stand in her way.
The room filled with sighs of relief and plenty of tears as everyone learned that their friend was going to be all right. As Slate hugged each and every person who’d come to show their support to Ashlyn, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Ashlyn would love this. Would love seeing all her friends together like this…all of them supporting each other.
Later that night, after almost everyone had left, knowing they wouldn’t be able to see Ashlyn that evening, and after Slate had rested for a short while, it was now just him and Mustang in the waiting room. A nurse opened the door and said that Ashlyn was stable and could have a visitor.
“I’ll wait here and drive you home after,” Mustang said.
Slate wanted to protest. Wanted to say that he’d stay here with Ashlyn. But since she was in ICU, he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to stay by her side. It was practical for him to go home, shower, change, get some more sleep and something to eat, before coming back in the morning.
“Thanks.”
“Stop thanking me. It’s annoying,” Mustang told him. “I think I prefer the crabby Slate.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be back sooner rather than later. Especially once Ashlyn is on the mend and wants to go back to work before she should, making me crazy.”
