“Well… okay… if you’re really sorry… I’ll only ground you for a week.”
Rachel stroked Nick’s arm where he gripped Jean, knowing events had happened in a dark way from Jean’s initial introduction of her teacher into their lives. She knew from past experiences, including her own misread of a situation that had cost Jean’s real Father his life, that obsessing over it was meaningless. Rachel would never forget the lessons she had learned while being in Nick’s company. She met Nick’s gaze with a nod.
“Sergeant Dickerson, who was at the school, recalled his guy from the hospital. You’re supposed to go into the precinct if at all possible tomorrow morning. He’ll be watching for you. We’re still cookin’ Terminator. Your team is guarding all aspects of this rogue assignment issued by my nine year old.”
Gus cracked up, laughing in true gallows humor form. “What she said, brother.”
Nick reached over to cover Rachel’s hand. “I’m glad to see you all. Let’s get me the hell out of here. I need a drink.”
Nick released the amused Rachel, and gripped Jean’s shoulders, bringing her tear stained face to an eye to eye confrontation. “Hey… remember what you reminded me of… ‘you made me do what was right, and I don’t often know what’s right anymore’. It was right with Dimah, and two murderous swine are dead. Boo hoo. Don’t put this stuff on yourself, kid. Believe me… if I don’t want to do something, I don’t do it. Okay?”
Jean wiped her eyes. “Yeah, but now… now everything will change.”
“Not between us, kid,” Nick replied, hugging her to him. “We all survived, and you got a taste of what, girl?”
Jean pushed away, straightening. “Unintended circumstances.”
Nick relaxed against his pillow. “Yep. Those pesky unintended circumstances. Give it to me Gus. Where are we at?”
“You’re a legend. Every media outlet in the country is now heralding your New York Times Bestselling Author status along with your Delta Force credentials. The honor killing aspect, coupled with the way you stopped it is probably on every front page in the country this evening. The TV and on-line media have gone absolutely psycho with the details they have.”
Gus gripped Nick’s right wrist, and put two pills into his hand. “Take these, brother. They’re Vicodin. I know your damn head must be killing you. They didn’t want to give you anything until you regained consciousness. They already gave you a plasma recharge when you were brought in. The Doc wanted to wait until you regained consciousness to do anything else.”
Nick popped both pills into his mouth, washing them down with the water Rachel handed him. “I love you, man!”
He elicited a hoped for lightness of mood. Nick hit the button to position himself in an upright position, clenching his fists as the initial wave of nausea and pain hit at the new positioning. “Okay… we need to get out of town for a while. My publisher has been after me big-time for a book signing extravaganza in New York. With this kind of notoriety, the signings will be huge. We’ll take Danger out of school for a while due to mental duress. Gus doesn’t work anyway. He can bring Tina along, first class of course, and Rachel can opt for the pregnancy break. Joe’s getting too reliant on her to run the whole show anyway. What do you all think?”
“Ah… I hate to mention this.” Rachel grabbed hold of his hand once again. “What of Dimah, and the fallout from the attempted honor killing?”
Nick glanced around, making sure he was in a private room. Satisfied, he answered in Terminator fashion. “I’m sorry, but did you think a grazing bullet would knock my common sense and very cold blooded logic out of my head? Dimah’s on her own. If there are any more moles in her personal life syndrome, she’ll have to deal with them on her own. The Dimah mission is completed… without pay by the way. If the family blames her for those two morons’ death… too bad. If you bunch thought I’d lost my serial killer persona, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for the next mission that doesn’t go well. Dimah is getting a little too needy in my eyes. I’m played out on her behalf. I haven’t taken one to the head in a long time… actually… ever. Done now.”
His figurative and abrupt washing of his hands concerning Dimah Kader elicited various signs of amusement from his audience. Nick reached to pat the bandage over his left ear. “How is my head anyway?”
“Fifteen stitches, and the .38 caliber bullet didn’t stand a chance of putting a dint in that blockhead of yours,” Gus answered. “They want to keep you overnight for observation.”
“Not happening. I hate hospitals. The moment the Vicodin kicks in, we’re out of here. How long have I been out?”