Redemption (Book 3) The Fixer Series (2 page)

I had started to suspect that the
Governor was less than admirable when Brooke was attacked.  He knew how much I loved her and still wanted me to do a cover-up for the alleged murder of Amber Martinelli.  A crime that was supposedly committed by my wife's ex-lover, Stefan Arici.  I hated the fucker, violently. Nothing would have made me happier than to feed him his own balls for what he had done to Brooke, but the Governor insisted that I be the one to
fix
that particular crime.  That's when my suspicions kicked into high gear and I began questioning what kind of man our beloved Governor truly was.  But even in my wildest dreams, I never would have thought he'd be involved in human trafficking and sex slavery, and I certainly didn't foresee his involvement with Thomas and my father. 

If I'd only known the crooked shit my dad had been into, I could have saved Brooke so much heartache and pain, but there were never any signs from my father that he could be involved in such horrendous things.  Every memory I had of my father was of a loving, nurturing man that cared very much about his family.  Never once, did I ever question his integrity or business dealings.  Everything appeared to be on the straight and narrow when it came to my dad.  He showed nothing but disgust for those that inflicted pain on others in this world, so when I accidentally ran into him at Kristof's place, I’d nearly shit myself.  I thought for sure that his presence there was a mistake, until I saw the gun in his hand.       

He was the mystery man that had been sitting and laughing with Kristof
. My heart sank and was flooded with sorrow for my beautiful wife, who had been taken right before our honeymoon, and no longer knew who she was.  Nothing had given me greater pleasure than sneaking up behind Kristof and slitting his throat, like the piece of shit he was.  I guess in some ways, it was a cleansing of my soul from all of the pain and suffering I had seen and experienced in my young adult life.  I had learned early on that people were evil. That they had no conscience and would stop at nothing, to get what they wanted in life.  Including, committing horrible crimes.  The elite rich were the worst, because they were the ones that could get away with it.  Because people like myself would help them cover up their mishaps.  What kind of man did that make me?  I could answer that.  I was a real shit bag.  I, too, put my own selfish needs ahead of others, and I ended up getting my sister killed and my wife, well...God only knows what happened to her.  

Stabbing my own father in the heart was one of the hardest things I
’ve ever had to do, but I knew it was either him or me, and as much as I wanted to die, I needed to know that Tristan had gotten Brooke out of that hellhole safely.  I wasn't sorry that I killed my father, I would do it again, if faced with the same situation.  My only regret, is that I didn't figure it all out sooner, so that I could have ended it before things turned out the way they did. 

My life was a mess.  I now realized I wasn't dying, as I began waking up and my body was filled with pain.  No, not dead at all.  I was living my first day in hell, the aftermath of surgery and the long recovery th
at I had ahead of myself.  I needed to get the hell out of this Russian, shit-hole of a hospital and get home, where I could truly recover.  I would need to explain to my mother and brother what had happened with my father, although, I wasn't convinced that telling them the whole truth was in my best interest.  Fuck!  I would still be deceiving and keeping secrets from those I loved, because of some other asshole and his sick bullshit. But the truth, it would kill my mother and she had suffered enough. 

CHAPTER 2

Dylan

I was full of e
motion when I woke in the recovery room.  It wasn't just physical pain I was feeling, but emotional pain, too.  Why couldn't I have just died, rather than have to face the demons that were ahead of me?  Lying there, in that cold, gray recovery room, I realized it was just me, my thoughts and the recovery nurse.  I saw her out of the corner of my eye as she made her way over to my bed, gently placing the oxygen tube around my ears and then in my nose.  She must have put some pain medicine in my IV too, because I didn't remember much about the recovery room after that. 

I
woke up in a private room with my own, personal, English-speaking nurse.  Something I was sure that Tristan had arranged.  When I was finally able to open my eyes and really focus, I noticed that the room was nicely decorated in pink.  Floral wallpaper lined the walls and the smell of bleach scented the air.  I moved, trying to get comfortable in my bed as the bells from the machines that I was hooked up to, went off.  I tried to talk, but quickly realized I couldn't because I was hooked up to a respirator machine.  At first I tried to fight it, because not being able to breathe or talk out of my mouth, scared the shit out of me.  But the more I fought, the more uncomfortable it made me, and I had no choice but to calm down and relax. 

Great,
I thought as I laid there helpless.  I closed my eyes, trying to block out the sounds and the pain I was experiencing. 

The nurse came over and placed her hand on my arm, introducing herself.
  "Hi, Dylan, I'm Lydia and I will be taking care of you during your stay here.  I know you can't talk, right now, but if you could just nod your head and indicate that you understand what I'm saying, that will be sufficient." 

I nodded my head in response
. 

"Good.  Now, let me s
ee what I can do about getting that tube taken out.  I'll talk with the doctor when he makes his rounds and let him know that you're ready.  Are you uncomfortable and needing more pain meds?" 

I nodded my head,
Yes
. 

Hell yes
, I needed more pain meds. I wasn't sure what I needed them more for, the fucking gunshot wound or the intense grief I felt.  This sucked camel balls.  I had never been rendered so fucking helpless in my life.  I felt like a burden to all mankind.  I couldn't talk, move, piss or even wipe my own ass if I wanted to.  I wanted to be pissed at Nurse Ratchet, but she wasn't doing anything other than trying to help me feel better.

 
The machine stopped singing, and I felt warmth enter my arm as my body began to give way to the euphoria.  I was higher than a kite and I welcomed the new-found feeling of being numb.  My eyes were heavy, but I didn't dare fall asleep.  Every time I fell asleep, the same dream haunted me, but it wasn't really a dream.  It was fucking reality. 

No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I ended up drifting into a deep sleep. 
Then, the recollection started of Brooke and I on our wedding day.  She looked so beautiful walking toward me, with the castle in the background.  Like a princess, my princess.  I couldn't wait to have her, savor her and love her for the rest of my life. 

That day
had played over and over in my head during all those months she was missing.  I could feel the same panic as if it were happening this very moment. When I'd returned to our special place and she wasn't there, I honestly thought she was just playing a game of hide and seek. But when she didn't answer, I knew in my gut that she was really gone.  I had felt helpless, much like I did now, because I wasn't able to protect her. 

I
suddenly heard whispering and my eyes flew open.  Tristan was in the room with the doc and they were discussing something that had to do with my care.  I didn't understand all of the Russian shit they were speaking.  He could hire an English-speaking nurse, but not a doctor?  That pissed me off.  If it had to do with me, I should've at least been able to understand what was being said.  Hell, for all I knew, they could be conspiring to kill me.  And, Brooke?  Where the hell was Brooke?  You could bet your sweet ass that once this tube was removed from my throat, Tristan and I would be having one hell of a brawl. 

A
nd, if Tristan wasn't with her, then who the hell was?  I trusted no one. My father had recently taught me that lesson.  Tristan shook the doctor's hand and came to over to my bedside.  

"He
y, buddy, how you feelin today?" he asked. Since I couldn't verbally respond, I flipped him the bird.

Tristan chuckled.
  "That good, eh?  Well, the good doc just informed me that they'll be taking that tube out later today.   He also said that you can expect your throat to hurt like hell and you'll only be able to eat ice chips for a couple of days, but all in all, you're a lucky son of a bitch, Dylan.  You could've gotten us all killed pulling that bullshit you did back at Kristof's place."

Once again, I raised my finger in an effort to tell
my friend to "go fuck himself".  Tristan continued to talk as I lay there, wishing he'd just shut the fuck up and bring Brooke to see me.  I was pissed and becoming more angry as each minute passed.  I couldn't wait to regain my strength, because once I did, I was going to kick Tristan's ass.  I sensed he knew that too, and it made him laugh that much more at me.  Fucker.

The one thing about being shot
was that it was nothing like what television or the movies portrayed.  I now knew from personal from experience, that having your insides blown to pieces, leaves one rendered completely helpless.  You aren't up, chasing the bad guy around within  a matter of minutes. That is all animated bullshit.  As a matter of fact, you are left flat on your back, bleeding, praying for death, because the pain is so intense that every part of your body hurts.   Even parts that remained unscathed. 

 
The bells on the machine started ringing again as Lydia, my nurse, came rushing in the room.  Tristan hurried to my bedside, but she instructed him to leave.  He gave a quick nod, and then he was gone.

"Mr. Prescott, are y
ou ready to get this tube out?" she asked.  I gave her the thumbs up, letting her know that nothing would make me happier than to get this shit out, so I could feel human again. 

"Very w
ell, I'll just need to grab a few things and then we can get started," she said, exiting the room once more.  I liked Nurse Lydia, because she was a woman on a mission and I think she understood that I was a man on a mission.  A man that was ready to get the hell out of this shit-hole, find my wife and get the fuck out of this country.   I had a strange feeling though, that she would be traveling back to the States with us, but right now, I didn't care.   

They say if you get a second chance in life, you should take it.  Sometimes that's easier said than done, especially when you're the one that
’s caused all the pain. 

I woke up two days later
, feeling as best as I could, given the circumstances.  The tube had been removed, and though my throat felt like someone had been sanding it down with sand paper, I was glad to have the fucking intruder gone.   I knew Tristan would be by to visit soon, and I was looking forward to the ass chewing that I was going to give him.  The truth was that he was right.  We were lucky, that my actions hadn't gotten us all killed.  I had to accept the fact that there came a time when we faced our demons, the darkest ones that can destroy and haunt us for the rest of our lives.  That realization was coming quickly for me, as I lay there trying to deal with what I'd done to my father.  And I hoped like hell Brooke knew who I was, because if she didn't, I would rather be dead.  And death was the only thing that was going to keep me from her. 

Tristan walked into the room
, dressed like he was going into battle, wearing a black t-shirt and green, camouflaged pants.  In some ways, he was, and he knew it.  I pushed myself up, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but it hurt like hell.  I took a deep breath and wiggled my way up the bed, until my head rested comfortably on the pillow. 

"Well...good morning
, sunshine," Tristan said, smirking.

"Where's Brooke?"
I asked.

"Not even a hello for your best friend?  I'm disappointed in you
, Dylan."

"Fuck off
, Tristan.  Where is she?"

"Dude, you need to chill out!   She's fine."

"If she's fine, then why isn't she here?  With me?" 

"Dylan, do you honestly think I would do anything to hurt her?  I got her out of that fucking hellhole for you!   And then
, I turned around and came back for your ass!"

"I don't trust anyone anymore
, Tristan.  No one."

"You're a dick, Dylan.  I know you're in pain
, but you need to stop this self-pity bullshit.  Your wife is fine.  As a matter of fact, she's in this hospital."

"Well then
, go get her.  I want to see her," I demanded.

"I can't.
  She's not well, Dylan and Alexi has been keeping watch over her room while I come visit you."

"What the fuck happened to her?"

  "Dylan, she was in the room with us when you went unconscious.  She thought you were dead.  She freaked the fuck out and had a mental breakdown.  I know you're pissed, but I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd worry like hell."

"Well
, no shit, I'm worried!  Only a fucking idiot would think, otherwise.  And what kind of shit are they giving her in this hellhole, anyway?  So help me God, Tristan, she better be okay or I am going to hold you personally responsible!   I left her in your care and you promised to keep her safe!"

"I am!  And you really need to pull your shit together, or you're not going to help anyone.  Not her
, or yourself.  I know you're pissed at me, and that's fine, but don't treat me like shit for things that are beyond my control.  After all of this is said and done, if you still want to kick my ass, I'd be happy to oblige."

Tristan stood, walked toward the door and looked back at me.  "
They've been flushing her system.  So far, it's been successful because she remembers bits and pieces, but she hasn't fully recollected everything that's happened.  I'll leave you now to sit, sulk and beat yourself up while I go check on her," he said as he walked out the door. 

"Fuck!" 
I yelled, grabbing my stomach, writhing in pain from yelling.  I needed to get us all out of here before I went crazy.  I pressed the little button that called the nurse's station in hopes that Nurse Lydia knew what room Brooke was in.  I needed to see her for myself, to ensure that she was indeed where Tristan said she was.  Now, I just needed to convince Lydia that I was up for a little walk. 

It didn't take much convincing to get me out of the room.   Lydia agreed that it was time to get up and moving, but I wasn't ready to walk.   She grabbed a wheelchair and after much discussion, agreed to take me to the hospital wing where Brooke was. 

I was a bit a surprised when the door was pushed open to see Tristan, Stephanie and Alexi all sitting around, guarding my Brooke.  

Alexi stood, gave
a nod and left the room as Lydia pushed me closer to where Brooke was laying.  She looked like an angel as her eyelids fluttered while she slept.  I was overcome with emotion from just being next to her.  Knowing she was really here, that I could reach out and touch her.  I didn't move, though.  I just sat there, watching her sleep as her chest moved up and down.  She looked so different from the Brooke I remembered, which seemed so long ago.