Oh shit. It was only going to get worse, too.
It was like the flu coming on, only with a fucked up stomach on top of it. The flu would have been welcome if it meant he didn’t have the goddamned bends. If that’s what this was, then things could get ugly fast.
No. It wasn’t that bad. He hadn’t been under for that long.
But he’d gone deeper than he should’ve. And he’d been cold. And he’d swum hard. And then he’d ascended too fast. Way too fast.
Sergei’s heart sped up as he sat on the foot of the bed. Fuck…
His phone buzzed. Struggling to focus his eyes, he read the message:
Which room?
Sergei chewed his lip. He wouldn’t be able to fake his way out of this. Dom was going to see him this way whether he liked it or not. Sex? Well, it wouldn’t be rough or acrobatic tonight.
He sent back the room number, and then popped the tab on his soda and took a deep swallow. It didn’t help his stomach much. Maybe it just needed more time to settle in. It wasn’t an instant remedy. Right?
A sharp knock at the door startled him, as if he hadn’t known Dom was coming.
Grimacing, he stood. Fuck, why do I feel like an old man?
You know exactly what it is.
No. It’s not. I do not have the fucking bends.
He shuffled across the floor, keeping his arms out for balance, and opened the door.
Dom met his gaze. His eyes were wide, his face pale, as if he’d seen something horrific. Because he had. God, they both had. And Sergei couldn’t tell him.
I can’t tell you I was there. I can’t tell you I’m shaking over it too.
He stepped aside to let Dom in, but the floor picked just that moment to shift beneath his feet.
Dom caught him before he even knew he was going down. “Holy shit. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m…” Not. Not at all. This is bad. “I need to sit.”
“I think you need to lie down, actually.”
Dom guided him to the bed. That helped. Being flat on his back, without worrying about staying upright—it definitely helped.
But the ache didn’t quit. It was getting worse.
“What’s wrong?” Dom asked.
Sergei sighed. There was no point in denying it. Not to himself or Dom. He wiped an unsteady hand over his face. “I went in the water today. Scuba diving with some buddies, down by the crescent. I think this might be—”
Dom flew to his feet. “I’m calling a doctor.”
“No!” Sergei sat up, and immediately regretted it. The world shifted out from under him again but thank God, strong arms stopped him before he tumbled off the bed.
Dom eased him back down to the mattress. “Sergei, you need to see a doctor.”
You have no idea.
“No.” Sergei swallowed. “N-not a hospital.”
Their eyes locked. Dom’s seem filled with a million unspoken questions.
Sergei swept his tongue across his dry lips. “I heard… some shit happened out there today. And the hospital here, they’re all in Mafia pockets. If anybody’s looking for a diver…”
Dom’s eyebrow rose. “Shit…”
“I’ll be okay.” I am so fucked. So, so fucked.
Then Dom cupped Sergei’s face and looked him in the eye. “Do you trust me?”
I shouldn’t trust you and you shouldn’t trust me.
Dom raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah.” Sergei swallowed. “Yeah. I do.”
“Then let me make this call.”
Sergei held his gaze. What else could he do? This wasn’t like the night they’d met when Dom had turned down medical attention because he was banged up and could get away with it. This was the kind of fucked-up that could get a lot worse in not a lot of time, and without a trained medical professional…
Swallowing, he nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Dom helped him back onto the pillows. Sergei closed his eyes. The world was still rocking and rolling. It was impossible to tell if it was from being out on boats for so long today, or if it was the decompression sickness fucking with his head, but it wasn’t helping the nausea either way.
Dom was nearby, but his voice sounded a million miles away: “Hey, it’s Dom. I need your help. Fast.”
Chapter 20
“You’re sure it’s the bends?” Rojas grabbed a backpack and a small oxygen tank from his trunk.
“He says he was out diving. I wasn’t sure what else it could be.”
The doctor slammed his trunk. “Even if it’s something else, better safe than sorry.” They hurried toward the room, and Rojas asked, “What are his symptoms?”
“He’s dizzy as hell. Can’t hardly stand.”
“Any pain?”
“Says his shoulders hurt. He says everything hurts, but it seems to be his shoulders more than anything.”
“Yeah, that’s the bends.” Rojas walked faster. “Nausea? Any loss of feeling? Paralysis?”
“He’s been sick a few times. Don’t think he’s lost any feeling, though. None that I know of. And he can move, he’s just off-balance.”
Rojas nodded, but didn’t say more.
Dom opened the door to the room. Rojas brushed past him and went right to the bed where Sergei was lying.