Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4 (18 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Bastian moved to trail David out the door, but I called out, “Bas, you’re coming back, right?”

He smiled, and glanced toward Red, still resting his large head on the bed so he could watch each of us. “Red, I think Doc is having a glass of wine with Henry. Would you bring the doctor upstairs so he can check Teresa’s IV?”

“Be right back, Beautiful.”
Forgetting to turn off the mind-sight, I was treated to a mad dash down the stairs and a sudden, sharp pivot toward the living room. Henry and Doc Pettifer were indeed enjoying their Merlot, a guess, as it was Henry’s favorite red wine.

Red came to an abrupt halt before the doctor, who was casually lounging back against the sofa cushions. In typical German shepherd sign language, my dog placed an inquiring paw on Jim Pettifer’s knee. Jim’s eyes widened, startled to be singled out by the dog.
“This one’s a bit slow, Teresa. He’s asking Henry what I want.”
Teasing humor suffused Red’s tone. I could see Jim and Henry talking, then Jim leaned forward and placed his wine glass on the coffee table. Red lifted his paw, backing up and turning to take a few steps toward the stairs. When he swung his head around to check Jim’s progress, the doctor had come to his feet and followed.

Meanwhile, back in my own body—yes, such is the craziness of my life—Bas settled his weight carefully onto the edge of the bed. “I’ll go down stairs to play host for a bit. Janey and the hospice nurse settled Marcia in her room, and Wes is already asleep in the blanket fort the guys set up. David and I need to finish our talk.”

“You really should have told him I was taken,” I chided gently. “I understand the array of reasons you didn’t, foremost being you were probably out of your mind with worry. But you remembered to make arrangements to pick David up at the airport, so you could have called him before his plane left Boston, to give him a heads-up on what to expect when he landed.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I made the right choice not to tell him Friday. There was nothing he could do, and he was in the midst of final doctor appointments with Marcia and Wes. I should have made time to call him this morning. There are excuses I could make, but the fact is I purposefully excluded him.”

I playfully tapped him somewhere on his well-muscled chest with my index finger. “Bad puppy.”

“I’m a good boy,”
Red protested, entering the room with his usual exuberance.

“Not you, Red. Bas was a bad boy.” I turned back toward Bastian, his beautiful beloved face filling my mind-sight. “Still
is
a bad boy. But that’s part of your charm,” my voice dropped, low and teasing.

“I’ll leave you with the doc and your ‘good boy’ for now,” he laughed. “After my rounds, and talk with David, I’ll be back to come to bed. No more sleeping alone, Babe. Barring travel for work, I want to wake up to your face, on the pillow beside mine, every morning.”

“It’s a date,” I vowed.

Bas rose and ambled toward the door, stopping for a few seconds to scratch Red’s ears. While I couldn’t see the action through Red, the mental moans of doggy pleasure were a dead giveaway. “Hey Doc. Take good care of my woman. I’ll want to talk to you later about a caffeine drip for her IV bag,” he joked, passing the older man with a pat on the back and a smile.

Jim returned the greeting, shifting his attention to the bed after Bas walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. “Was I correct in assuming Red was sent to get me?”

“Yes. Please don’t be offended. Red enjoys interacting with people, so we send him on various tasks during the day. Figuring out how to accomplish his assigned mission is a puzzle he enjoys.”

“I’m not offended at all. I was quite impressed with his eloquence,” the doctor praised with a crooked grin. He must have noticed the empty IV bag, because he approached the metal stand, detaching the expended bag, to connect the second one he’d readied earlier, which hung from an opposing hook.

I turned my attention to Red, explaining, “Eloquence is a word expressing how well you explain what you want to others. It’s a nice compliment about your skills as a communicator.”

“So he thinks I talk purdy?”
Red joked.

“Good gracious, Red. Who says ‘talk purdy’?” It was almost as bad as the baby talk he mimicked a few months ago.

“Joker. I like the way he talks. It’s fun and interesting.”

“Geez, all these nick names will drive me batty. Which one is Joker?” I asked, racking my brain to figure out which of the Mustangs had strange, or intriguing, accents.

“Steve. He’s one of the software trainees from Oklahoma. Ralph says he’s fallen off one too many broncos and his brains are scrambled. That’s why he talks slow and funny.”

“Consider the source, Red,” I challenged. “Ralph is the kid who joined the Navy, only to find out later he gets seasick. He’s the last person who should be mocking anyone.”

My world turned sideways, as Red canted his head in consideration.
“I see your point.”

I caught movement in Red’s peripheral vision. The poor doctor’s head was swinging back and forth between Red and me, his expression a cross between puzzlement and joyous wonder.

“Gil tells us we argue like an old married couple. You get used to us chatting back and forth after a while,” I smiled.

“It’s absolutely extraordinary. Can you hear other animals, too?” It was nice to see Jim caught up in the excitement as he considered the implications of our link.

“Not so far, but I appear to be a receiver, so theoretically, if an animal sends their thoughts, I should be able to pick them up. There’s no way to determine if Red is different from other dogs, but he appears to be smarter than average with high-level reasoning skills. There may not be any other animal I’d come across in the course of my life, who would not only have the capability, but who’d think to send their thoughts to me.”

“So, you’re saying Red has to consciously think things at you?”

“Yes, thank goodness. Can you imagine having your head filled with aimless animal chatter all day? Red makes a decision when to speak and shares sight on command. The mind-speak link is the easiest, and has the farthest range. We use the visual communication less often, as he can only mind-sight for fifty minutes before he starts to get, what we presume is, a stress headache.”

“Teresa, it’s been awhile since I took Tank outside. We need to do our perimeter check. Lights off?”

“Sure, Red. Maybe Jim can get the door for you?” I suggested.

“Nope. Not needed anymore. Jazz installed door buttons for me. See?”
Red showed me the new brassy button, placed discreetly low on the wall.
“There’s a button on the outside too. Jazz also added hydraulics to the door, so it automatically closes after a few seconds.”
Red softly pressed his nose to the raised button, and the door slowly yawned open.

My world went dark, once again, and so did my mood. Since Jim was also a psychologist, maybe he could help me put this in perspective.

“Jim, does it seem ungrateful to have negative, conflicting reactions to the mind-sight? It’s been over a year since the accident that blinded me, and I adapted and learned to function in the dark. Now I’m gifted with an ability to share vision through my dog, and…” I searched for the right words to explain the conflicting emotions which filled me. With an audible sigh, I reminded myself to be happy with what I have.

“And what, Teresa?” Jim prompted.

“I’m whining,” I confessed. “I really shouldn’t let this bother me.” I paused, considering dropping the subject, but… “Occasionally, when the vision link closes, I feel so depressed. Almost as if I’m losing my sight all over again. It makes no sense. It took four months, but I hopped off the pity party train and accepted my blindness. Realizing the need to move forward, I adapted to a new way of life, and learned to live in the dark. I was happy. Now, instead of being thankful for the rare opportunities to see again, I’m resentful each time my world goes black.”

“Right or wrong, we can’t help how we feel about things, Teresa. Your mind-sight, is unprecedented. On the surface, I can see how an insensitive person might say, suck it up—be happy with the times you can see. Your blindness not only resulted from a traumatic experience, it changed how you interact with your friends and surroundings. Each time the link severs, you repeat that moment of life-altering loss all over again. The first time you realized you were permanently blind, was no doubt difficult to experience, but now you’re reminded constantly of the loss. I couldn’t even imagine the contradictory feelings you must experience. Hope and joy each time you are blessed with mind-sight, contrasting with despair and pain when blackness reminds you of your accident.”

“Yes. It’s as if my whole body takes a deep, shuttering breath and says ‘here we go again.’ Shouldn’t I be more focused on the positive, Jim? Ingratitude seems so twisted.”

“Well sure. If you were Heidi, and this was a chalet in the Swiss Alps,” he chuckled. “I don’t mean to belittle your feelings, Teresa, please don’t take it that way. But, the only people who have no negativity are fictional characters in children’s books. Give yourself permission to have a bad thought, think an unkind word, or mentally stab someone with a sharp ice pick. You’re human, it’s okay to behave like one.

“Bas and Russ tell me you’re straightforward and don’t pull your punches, so let me be blunt,” he continued. “Be angry, Teresa. You have my permission, not that you need it. Don’t become consumed by guilt and resentment, but allow yourself to feel an emotion, then let it go if it doesn’t benefit you. According to your friends and family, you have a great positive mental outlook. Your attitude can be one of your biggest assets. Don’t beat yourself up for resenting your loss, instead acknowledge your feelings then focus on pressing forward.

“I guarantee you’ll be on an emotional rollercoaster as your mind processes these past two days. Even if undesirable thoughts encroach, they don’t make you a bad person. How you meet challenges is what defines you. I’m here to help, so find me if you need to talk. We can even meet for coffee each morning if you’d like,” he bribed. Yeah, this guy had my number.

“Daily coffee sounds great,” I replied, with a yawn.

“You’re barely staying awake, so I’ll leave for now and check on you again later. You’re going to be fine, Teresa.”

****************

Sometime, in the middle of the night. I awakened to find myself wrapped in familiar arms, Bastian’s voice soothing me to back to sleep. The nightmare that half-woke me, strangling me in its choking grasp, was already fading from memory. I inhaled the scent of cinnamon and cedar, and knew I was safe.

Chapter Nineteen

** Morning, Monday - Jan 14
th
**

It was wonderful to finally be warm again. I was spread-eagle over a huge mountain of a man—as though my body wanted to touch as much of him as possible. I smirked. Or maybe sub-consciously, I was trying to pin him down? The man-sprawl was apparently my favorite sleeping position, as I often woke up similarly when I was involved with David. But, there was no mistaking the two men. Even boneless in sleep, Bas was thick muscle mass, roped over a huge frame. A few of the men likened him to Dwayne Johnson, and I’d heard many of them refer to him as Rock during their daily workouts. Most likely, the basis of his new call name during the rescue.

I drew the scent of spices and clean male into my lungs. So good to be home.

“Did you just sniff me?” The voice rumbling in my ear, coincided with the hiccupping feel of laughter in my man-pillow-slash-heated blanket. “You did,” he answered his own question. “You boldly took a sniff of my manly essence.”

“Manly essence?” I parroted with a huge smile. “No, that’s not it at all. I was merely thinking it was time to change these sheets,” I lied, plucking at his t-shirt-covered chest.

“There will be no changing of this bedding, wench. You made the purchase, you’re stuck with me now.”

Resting my forearms on the wide expanse of his chest, I idly poked a finger in the vicinity of his shoulder. “I dunno,” I hedged, “you’re kinda lumpy.”

“Yep. I’m lumpy, sometimes grumpy, and I have lots of rough edges, but it’s too late for buyer’s remorse, Babe. You own the package, so you’re obligated to take care of me to the best of your ability.”

“Mmm,” I arched a brow dubiously. “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that clause if it’d been clearly stated in the purchase conditions.”

His reply was instant, “Au contraire, Babe. You said you loved me. It’s a known fact, love is unconditional. I’m yours, warts and all.”

I sighed heavily. “Warts? You have warts, too? This is looking more and more like an impulse-buy gone terribly wrong.” I perked up as I further considered, “Hey, there’s some kind of three-day return policy for large purchases, isn’t there? They don’t make ‘em larger than you, Bastian. I bet you’re returnable.”

Laughing, he bantered, “Babe, you captured me fifteen years ago. It’s way too late to take me back to the Love-sick Idiots Store.” Suddenly serious, and uncharacteristically insecure, he asked, “Do you really feel you’re getting the poor end of the deal? I’ve made a lot of mistakes, the foremost being other women in my bed when I should have manned up and claimed you.”

I leaned forward to kiss him softly, ever aware of the Cardinal Rule of Morning Kisses. “We both had a lot of growing up to do, Bastian.” With matching seriousness, I absolved him, “There was no relationship between us until now, so you never cheated on me. There is no doubt in my mind your hussy-strewn past is behind you. Nor am I concerned about the women you’ve been with, and I have no trepidation about your future faithfulness. I’m the one you pledged your heart to. As for claiming me—I wasn’t yours to claim. Trying to strong-arm a relationship would have ended in failure. We are where we are, Bas, because
now
is the time and place we’re supposed to be together.”

My arms and shoulders, already sore and stiff, were quivering from holding a position braced above him, so I eased myself slowly into a prone posture. Bastian’s hands covered my neck and shoulders, beginning a careful kneading motion.

For the first time, I realized I was no longer hooked up to an IV, even the needle had been removed from the back of my hand, and taped over. “I don’t remember anything after my head hit the pillow last night,” I admitted.

Since I was rubbing the bandaged area, Bastian must have understood my train of thought. “Doc took the needle out when the last IV bag was used up. I even escorted you to the bathroom again. You moved better and were able to take care of yourself; I only lent an arm to keep you steady, to and from.”

How strange, I’ve never sleep-walked before. “Thank you for taking care of me. I have no recollection of getting up last night.”

“Exhaustion, Babe. Drugged sleep is not the same as natural rest. How do you feel this morning?”

“Stiff muscles, and painful bruises,” I catalogued, “but much better than yesterday. I think a long soak in the tub should lessen the discomfort, and improve the aroma.”

Smoothly, Bas eased me off his chest. His warmth was an immediate and acute loss. “I’ll be right back. Let me get the tub started while we talk.” A quick kiss on my undamaged cheek, and he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Save my place.”

While he adjusted taps, and, from the smell of it, added eucalyptus-spearmint Epsom salts (thanks Janey, they smell better than unscented ones), I gently stretched my limbs to assess the extent of my aches and pains. Surprisingly, I had more range of movement, as well as less soreness in my ribs. Of course, I hadn’t tried to get up yet; that would be the true test.

Bas returned to the bed, laying on his side, cuddling me into the curl of his body. His breath was warm at my nape. “Everyone got settled in to their rooms last night. Marcia looks pretty bad, Babe. The hospice nurse confirmed she may only have three to four weeks left. She looks like a holocaust victim, all bones and skin you can practically see through.” We were quiet for a moment, as if we’d mutually agreed on a moment of silence to reflect on the coming hard times.

“And, it’s official, we all love Wes; he’s already been adopted by the Mustangs. He’s an independent little man, exploring the house and Cave with both dogs in tow. There was no pulling him and Tank out of their blanket fort last night, so Tank didn’t sleep in his crate. The kid looks exactly like David, Babe. It’s uncanny. He’s tall for a nine year old, although, he tells me he’ll be ten next month.” Bas chuckled, “Prepare to fall in love. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

“I’m glad they’re home, Bas. The timing sucks, because I believe Jim when he tells me I’ll be working through some issues when the last few days catch up.” I clutched his circling arms closer in a desperate hug. “God, I was so scared. I knew you’d come for me, Bas, but the waiting was nerve-wracking. There were times I wondered if I’d ever be snuggled up like this with you.”

He squeezed me back, a little too hard, but I was okay with that. I knew he’d been worried too. “My heart seized up a dozen times, Babe,” he admitted. “I rarely left the video feeds. I watched you sleep, I watched you eat, and fight off a man twice your size. The first time I saw Grainger take you from the garage, to the bathroom I’m guessing, my breathing stopped until you reappeared.”

“I hear we’ll be replacing a mirror downstairs,” I alluded to the barbell he’d flung in anger. I could almost hear the wheels spinning as he tried to figure out when I had an opportunity to learn of his tantrum. “Red told me.”

Bas held me quietly for a moment, and I began to wonder if he’d simply change the subject. “Jim tells me I flew into a blind rage. I don’t remember much. Last thing I recall clearly, before I broke the mirror, was Bannerman flipping open the switchblade and slicing off your jeans. I was alternately relieved you were unconscious, and terrified he would take you from me.”

I couldn’t hear his heartbeat in my current position, so I slid a finger onto the pulse of his wrist. His heart was racing. “I’m okay Bastian. You saved me, and I’m going to be fine,” I soothed. “And, Dexter’s made sure he’ll never wield a knife again.”

His breath hitched, then slowly exhaled. “Over the course of my military career there have been some tight spots and fucking ugly shit, but I have never been so scared in my life, Babe,” he confessed, his voice broken and filled with undefinable pain. “I would have given them anything to have you back.”

In that moment, I realized the true cruelty Grainger had perpetrated by placing a camera in the room with me. Each move had been coldly calculated to bring Bas to the point of total surrender. Did Grainger realize how successful his ploy had been? Was it too late to kill him? Unable to answer either question to my satisfaction, I said the only thing I could think of. “I love you, Sebastian.”

“God, I love you too, Babe,” he swore, solemnly. “I need you more than air, Teresa.”

His body shifted, indicating a tilted head, listening. “Your tub should be about full. Let me check, then I’ll come back and help you out of your clothes,” he leered at me with his voice. Truly.

“Why, Mr. Declan, I do believe you’re trying to get me naked.”

“Babe, you’ve been naked in my head for fifteen years,” he gently moved me aside, swinging his legs off the bed, once again. “It’s my life goal to have you naked in my arms, for real. And you know how focused I can be on an objective.”

While Bastian turned the taps off, I managed to slide carefully off the edge of the mattress and wobble after him to the bathroom. Oh, man, was I sore. Peeling the pajama bottoms down my legs highlighted many of the worst aches, but the pull-over top was beyond my current capabilities. “I have a flannel button-up I’ll let you wear; stretching your arms up is clearly uncomfortable,” Bas sympathized, as he lifted the fleece over my head.

My tub was over-sized: wide and deep, with Jacuzzi-style adjustable jets. Bas helped me balance as I swung each leg over the side. Surprisingly, he stepped into the water behind me, and with a gentle tug, drew my body down into the water until I was leaning back against his chest, cradled between his thighs. Yep, he was naked. I hadn’t heard the whisper of cloth when he disrobed, so I assumed he stripped while I was ambling my way to the bathroom. Tricky devil.

Is it warped to be disappointed at not feeling an erection nestled at the base of my spine? He was still large and semi-hard, but clearly not aroused merely by my being pressed, warm and naked, against him. I must have transmitted my disappointment, either through an errant sigh, or a testing wriggle, as Bas carefully hugged me and murmured in my hair, “Babe, you’re covered head to toe in severe bruising. At the moment, being naked with you, skin on skin, isn’t about sex, it’s about comfort—yours, and truthfully, mine too. I need this. Holding you in my arms reaffirms you’re finally safe. Relax. Let me hold you, and trust I’ll keep you safe if you nod off, okay?”

I’ll admit, I went completely boneless, melting into Bas’ embrace, falling in love with him, all over again.

****************

Apparently, I nodded off, as the water was only lukewarm now. Rolling my head sideways against the wide shoulder beneath me, I tucked my head under Bas’ chin. “Fell asleep on you,” I observed, unnecessarily.

“Yes, you did. Almost an hour ago. Feeling better?”

Stretching my legs, I realized much of the achiness seemed alleviated. “A lot better. Thank you, Bas. This was exactly what I needed.”

I felt him shift to lift a leg, and he pivoted the faucet lever with his foot to add a more hot water. In less than a minute, he turned the tap off—the tub comfortably warm again.

“Teresa, you need to come downstairs and meet my boy,”
Red beseeched.
“Will you be much longer?”

“Red just spoke to me. He wants me to come down and meet Wes,” I said in surprise. Unless we’re outdoors, or in the same room, he rarely initiated conversation when we weren’t already together. “He must really be excited to risk waking me up.”

“He probably heard the water running,” Bas determined. “We
are
a household of early-risers. David, Wes, and Marcia are still on east coast time, and have probably been awake for a while now. We should be thankful Red waited this long.”

“Teresa, can I come inside?”
Red inquired, presumably from outside my bedroom door.

I relayed the question to Bas. “He usually barges right in,” I noted.

“Come on in, Red,” Bas called out. To me, he explained, “Red and I had a conversation last night—admittedly, it was one-sided—to let him know he should ask permission before entering your bedroom. Henry is sharing the family floor-level with you. I don’t think his heart could stand the stress if he was walking by and the door flew open to reveal you half-dressed.”

“Heaven forbid, we upset Henry’s delicate sensibilities,” I chuckled. “Especially after everything he saw on the camera. Buttons are a good idea, they make more sense than a dog door.”