Tickle His Fancy: Trident Security Book 6 (Trident Security Series) (22 page)

For the next forty-five hours, Fancy went from her home to
the hospital and back again. In the waiting room, she got to know Brody’s
parents and brother better. They told her all about the boy he’d been and the
man he’d become prior to her meeting him. His teammates and friends rotated
shifts in and out, bringing food, coffee, and whatever else was needed, even
though they weren’t allowed in the ICU unit to see him. They were keeping Jake
and Nick in the loop by phone. Nick couldn’t fly back again due to an upcoming
mission with the SEALs and Ian had convinced Jake to stay in San Diego with the
new west coast team until they knew more about Brody’s condition. Back at the
office, Colleen had reserved hotel rooms for Elise, Gerard, and Brett within
walking distance of the hospital. The rest of the Evans clan stayed by their
phones in Texas and took care of their parents’ ranch. There wasn’t anything
they could do here but sit in the waiting room like everyone else, so they
decided to stay at home where they could be of use. If Fancy hadn’t already
known Brody was a good man—protective, brave, loyal, and honorable—she would
have known it just by his loving, extended family.

After Detective Webb had told Fancy that Corey’s parents had
been notified, she tried to call them, but her former father-in-law told her
never to call them again and hung up on her. Apparently, they now blamed her
for the deaths of both their sons, despite knowing as little as the rest of
them. From what her Aunt Denise had learned, the Maguires were arranging for
Corey’s body to be flown back to Ohio and buried next to Patrick in the plot
that had been originally bought for her. If this had happened six months ago,
Fancy would have been hurt, but now…she’d finally been able to let her husband
go, and if it brought his grieving parents comfort, then that was fine with
her.

At her bakery, her staff had taken over—God bless them. Jamie
had suggested hiring her cousin to help out so Fancy could stay at the
hospital. Fancy had met the other girl several times and had okayed her working
at the shop. If she was a good fit, Fancy would consider keeping her on
full-time, giving herself more free time to spend with Brody. If he…no,
when
he woke up, he would need her to help take care of him as he recovered.

Three o’clock rolled around and for the first time, Fancy was
going into the ICU for visiting alone. Elise and Gerard had returned to the
hotel for a bit to rest and would be back later, and Brett was on a phone call
with his police department back home about a case he’d been working on. Harper,
Marco, Angie, and Shelby would remain in the waiting room while Fancy went in
for her fifteen-minute visit.

Several family members of other patients stood and walked
into the unit behind her. Stepping into Brody’s cubicle, Fancy pulled the
curtain closed to give herself a little privacy. Not much had changed in his
appearance over the past two days. They’d been cleaning and treating the burn
marks on his lower legs and feet. From what the doctor had said, he would have only
minor scarring from the second-degree burns, but he might lose the small toe on
one foot where a third-degree burn had formed.

The monitors still beeped, but the good news that morning was
when they’d briefly turned off the ventilator, the respiratory staff found
Brody was breathing on his own. With the doctor’s permission, they had removed
the intubation tube. Now, he had a nasal cannula in place sending oxygen into
his nose. The doctor had been surprised, yet pleased with his EKG and stable
vital signs this morning. The only problem was he hadn’t woken up yet.

As Fancy pulled over the lone chair, the blood pressure cuff
on his arm inflated again. On the bedside table was a silver package with moist
applicators in it. They smelled like lemon, and she pulled one out and ran it
over his lips to keep them hydrated as the nurses had instructed. Cupping his
cheek, she stared at his pale but still handsome face. The stubble there
tickled her palm. “H-hi. It’s me. I’m here, Sir. Waiting for you to wake up and
show me your beautiful, brown eyes.”

The only times she called him Sir was when she was alone in
the room with him. She didn’t know if his family knew about his lifestyle and
it wasn’t her place to tip them off. Some people didn’t understand it, and
Brody himself had told her his first impressions of the BDSM community had been
one of abuse. It was as far from the truth as possible. She loved him, what he
did to her, and how he took care of her. But this was a time she had to take
care of him.

“Kristen was here earlier with JD. I just love holding him. I
would love to have your babies someday, and, yes, I can still have them as far
as I know. Before I met you, I never thought I would get pregnant again. I
didn’t think I could go through another miscarriage and survive it. But you. . .you
make me want to try, Sir. I would love to have a little boy with your dimples
or a little girl with your eyes. . .maybe some of my freckles on her
nose because I know how much you like them.”

Swallowing hard, she continued. “Mara is trying to take her
first steps, but Marco is hoping she waits a few more days so her Uncle Brody
can see her do it. Your family, all of them, love you. Come back to us, please. . .I
love you so much and need you. Please, Sir.”

She still didn’t receive any response from him and wondered
if she ever would.
What if he never woke up?
Fancy couldn’t stop the
tears and sobs that spilled forth. She grabbed some tissues from the table and
blew her nose. After wiping her eyes, she held his hand, stroked his hair, and
just told him all the positive things that were going on around them. She
babbled about anything she could think of that might get through to him, but at
the end of her fifteen minutes, she once again kissed his forehead and left
without any response from him.

* * *

Walking into the private room, Fancy put on a big smile when
she saw the patient sitting up in bed. “Good morning, Russell. I’m so glad to
see you’re awake. Boomer sent me a text last night to say they’d moved you out
of the ICU. How are you feeling?”

Lowering the TV volume via the bed remote, Adams gingerly
shifted in the bed. His voice was weak, and his skin was pale, but he grinned
back at her. “Hi, Miss Fancy. I’m doing okay, sore, but okay. After giving me a
few pints of blood and stitching me back together, the doctors think I’ll be okay.
Once they let me wake up yesterday morning, they took out the breathing tube.
How’s the senior chief?”

Placing one of the bags she’d grabbed from the bakery this
morning on his bedside table, she sat in the chair next to him. She swallowed
the lump in her throat. “He still hasn’t woken up, but the doctors are going to
run some tests later to see if he responds.”

His eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save
him—”

She grabbed his hand, cutting off the rest of whatever he was
about to say. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Russell. If it weren't
for you, it would have been too late, and he would never have had a chance.
He’s still alive and fighting, so we just have to think positively.”

It was basically the same thing Brody’s mother had said to
her. This wasn’t anyone’s fault except for Corey’s, and he’d paid for it with
his life.

When Russell nodded in response, she said, “I brought you
some goodies since I know how bad hospital food can be. I gave a box of cookies
to the nurses from you, too, both here and in the SICU.”

“Thanks. They’re all really nice to me. I just hope I don’t
have any flashbacks while I’m here and hurt someone.”

Fancy pointed toward the door. “Boomer made sure the nurses
knew about your PTSD so there’s a sign on the wall next to your door that says
to make noise and announce yourself when entering.”

A knock on the open door had them both looking up, and Ian
walked in. “Good morning, Fancy. Adams, how are you feeling today?”

“Good, sir.”

Brody’s friend and boss had obviously been in to see the Navy
veteran before this morning. He stopped next to the hospital bed and inhaled
deeply. “Damn, are those pecan rolls I smell?”

“Yes, sir, I think they are,” Russell answered while
grinning. “Fancy brought them for me.”

Chuckling, she pulled a smaller paper bag out of a larger
plastic one and handed it to Ian. “You didn’t think I would forget you loved them,
too, did you?”

He took the bag from her. “Thanks, you’re a doll. After this
one, though, I’m going to have to start declining every once in a while if I
want to get into my dress whites for the wedding.” She doubted that, because
the man was in peak physical condition, just like the rest of his team. Turning
back toward the injured man, he asked, “What are your plans when you get sprung
from here?”

Adams shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it, sir. Why?”

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” Over his shoulder, Ian said
in a raised voice, “Tori, come on in.”

A brown-haired woman Fancy had never met before rounded the
door jamb and strode into the room. She was close to Fancy’s age and stood
about five foot six. On a leash beside her was a beautiful Rottweiler. The
large dog was wearing a yellow vest with the words “Service Dog in Training” on
it. When the woman stopped a few feet from the bed, her canine companion
immediately sat next to her, his stubby tail and butt wiggling with happiness.

Ian gestured to the man lying in the bed. “Russell Adams,
this is Tori Freyja. Tori, this is Russell, and Brody’s girlfriend Fancy
Maguire. Tori is a friend of a friend, and in addition to running a rescue for
Bullmastiffs, she trains other rescues to be service and assistance dogs for
veterans, specifically those who have PTSD,” he explained to Russell. “If
you’re willing, when you get out of here, she has a ranch just north of Tampa.
You can stay there while training your own dog. She’ll teach you how, and it’ll
take a few months. After that, we’ll sit down and discuss putting you to work
and getting you a permanent place to stay. All the expenses for the dog are
covered and then some. Tori’s Healing Heroes is a non-profit, so all you have
to do is learn how to train your dog to help you when you need it. Oh, and
you’ll be expected to help out around the ranch, which also has some therapy
horses. The staff is experienced with veterans with PTSD so don’t worry about
having any incidents there. Again, this is all up to you. You can decline if
you want to.”

Fancy’s eyes had welled up as she watched Russell’s
expression go from confusion to shock and then to awe that someone would do
this for him. His gaze went back and forth between Ian, Fancy, and Tori several
times in disbelief before it settled on the dog with its goofy face and tongue
hanging out. “Is that. . .would he be my dog?”

Smiling and taking two steps forward, Tori patted the edge of
the bed and said the word “place.” Going up on his hind legs, the dog set his
front paws on the mattress, and Fancy swore he was grinning. Tori stroked his
big head. “This is Jagger, and he’s about eighteen months old from what we can
tell. We pulled him out of a crowded shelter where he was scheduled to be
euthanized. He’s already started his basic training and will be ready to begin
working with you when you’re released from the hospital. Hold out your hand,
palm down, and let him sniff you. He’ll let you know when it’s okay to pet
him.”

Russell did as he was told and Jagger sniffed his hand
enthusiastically. He then thrust his muzzle into the palm, demanding to be
petted, and his new owner complied. “Hey, Jagger,” he said while scratching the
dog’s ears. Everyone laughed when the dog groaned in delight. “He’s awesome. I
had a Rottie growing up.”

“Sounds like it was meant to be then,” Fancy told him as she
stood, her voice thick with emotion at the lengths Brody’s extended family took
care of their own. And it was clear Russell Adams was now a part of that
family. “Visiting starts in ten minutes in the ICU, so I’m going to head up
there. I’ll stop in to see you before I go home later, Russell.”

“Thanks, Fancy. I’ll say a few more prayers for the senior
chief. When he wakes up, please have someone let me know. And thanks,
Lieutenant Sawyer, for everything. I honestly don’t know what else to say.”

Ian held out his hand for the other man to shake. “It’s Ian.
And you don’t have to say anything more. It’s the least I can do for your
service and for helping us find Brody.”

* * *

After Gerard and Elise had come out from their brief visit
with their son, Fancy and Brett went in. On the way to Brody’s cubicle, Fancy
stopped at the nurses’ station in the middle of the unit and handed a large
bakery box to Sheila, the head nurse. “This is for all of you for taking such
good care of Brody. Thank you for all you do.”

The woman grinned. “Thanks for thinking of us. Whatever it
is, it smells delicious.” An alarm sounded, and she checked the monitor in
front of her. Leaving the box on the desk, she led the way into Brody’s
cubicle, visibly not worried about anything. “One of his EKG leads came off. It
happens after they’ve been on a few days. We rotate where they’re placed so it
doesn’t irritate the skin too much.”

“How’s he doing today?” Brett asked.

Sheila checked the wires and patches on her patient’s chest
and found the loose one. The alarm shut off when she adjusted the patch. “His
vitals are all stable, and he was moving around a bit in his sleep last night
according to the nurses. That’s a good sign.”

Fancy hoped so. She’d give anything for Brody to open his
eyes and talk to her. Stepping forward, she grasped his hand and squeezed. “Hi.
It’s me. Brett’s here, too.”

To her surprise, his hand squeezed hers in response. She
gasped, uncertain if she imagined it. “B-Brody? Squeeze my hand again.”