A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) (4 page)

This had to be a nightmare. It
had
to be. He must have fallen into a deep sleep on his couch. No way was
his
Jessie sitting in the middle of this bed in this state.

This is not real.

This isn't happening.

Snap out of it
.

Wake.

The.

Fuck.

Up.

"Leave me alone!" Jessie yelled in a panicked tone, jolting Aidan back to the present. Jessie swung the broken glass toward the EMTs, forcing them to take a step back.

Aidan fisted the collar of the closest EMT and dragged him near. "What do you need to happen here to help him?"

The EMT stood a breath away. "If we don't splint the broken arm and leg, he could lose a limb due to compromised blood vessels. And I think he has a broken rib or two based on his breathing, so we need to brace him to avoid a possible puncture to a lung or organ if that's the case. And that's only what we can see. Bottom line, we need to stabilize him to avoid further damage, but he won't let us anywhere near him. His adrenaline level is probably the only reason he's conscious right now. He's going to crash. And it's best we're at the hospital where we're more prepared to handle that."

Aidan nodded curtly, releasing the EMT. "Clear the room." The other EMT in the room looked up at him. "Now!"

They gaped at his tone but stepped just outside the doorway, leaving him alone with Jessie.

Jessie swung the broken glass item to the left then right in quick shifts, panting each rapid, shallow breath.

"Jessie," he said, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat.

"Aidan?" Jessie said, his voice broken and trembling as he slowly relaxed his outstretched arm. "I can't see you."

Aidan's brow lowered when he looked upward at the brightly lit room. He walked over to the side of the bed, to Jessie's right. "I'm right here," he whispered, unable to use his full voice for some reason.

Jessie's lip quivered. "I can't see you," he repeated.

"I'm here," he said, reaching out and gently placing his hand on Jessie's bruised and swollen cheek. "It's just the two of us here."

Jessie sniffled.

Aidan grabbed one of the evidence bags lying on top of the bed. "Jess, you're holding glass in your hand and you're bleeding. I need you to let that go." He inverted the bag and grabbed the broken glass Jessie held. Jessie immediately released the item and Aidan pulled the edges of the plastic upward to seal the broken glass inside the bag. He spotted Officer Max Banks—who had obviously made his way upstairs—standing by the doorway and motioned for him to come over, handing him the evidence bag then shooing him back out of the room.

"I can't see," Jessie whispered through his swollen, split lips. "I
…
I don't
…
want anyone to touch me."

"Do you know who did this to you?" Aidan asked.

Jessie nodded.

"Tell me." Aidan glanced up at Max, giving him a chin-up gesture. The officer immediately handed Jason the evidence bag and pulled his own notebook out of his pocket, ready to jot down whatever Jessie said. He returned his focus back to Jessie, trying to keep the worry and panic in check.

"It was dark, but I believe it was a guy I knew a few years ago. Michael," Jessie responded, a shiver visibly rippling through his body.

"I need a last name." Aidan clenched his fist, trying to stave off the boiling rage, unable to pull his stare away from the blood-matted hair at Jessie's temple.

Jessie remained silent, panting each breath. He closed his eyes and a tear escaped, turning pink as it mixed with the smeared blood down his swollen cheek. "John
…
Johnson." He started to gasp each breath.

"Jess, I need you to let the EMTs here do their thing."

"Don't leave!" He reached out in a panic with his bloodied hand, searching for Aidan, finally finding his shirt and fisting the material. "Please," he said, in a voice Aidan barely recognized as Jessie's.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The EMTs immediately shuffled around them, rolling the gurney into the narrow space between the bed and the wall. They worked in concert, bringing in supplies to begin prepping.

Jessie gasped each breath, turning his head from side to side at the ruckus surrounding him, clutching Aidan's shirt more tightly.

"Jess, I'm here, so are the EMTs. You need to let them work. Focus on me. Tell me about Michael Johnson. Just keep talking. I'll need more information. Age, height, where he lives. Anything you can tell me." He glanced over to the officer, thankful the man stood stoic, waiting with his notebook still in hand.

The EMT leaned over, nearing Aidan to whisper. "We need you to leave the room. We need the space."

Aidan turned to face him. "Work around me," he said slowly, leaving zero room for argument or misinterpretation of his intent to stay planted at Jessie's side.

The EMT stepped away, returning his focus back to Jessie. "Mr. Vega, I need you to keep your arm still so I can start an IV."

Jessie flinched at the touch then winced from the obvious pain when the other EMT stretched an oxygen mask over his face.

"Jess, tell me about Michael Johnson. Is he tall?" Aidan asked, hoping to shift Jessie's attention to the line of questioning.

"Yes, he's tall and big," Jessie said, the mask slightly muffling his words.

"Like me?"

Jessie closed his almost-swollen-shut eye and winced again when the EMTs braced his neck and splinted his leg and arm. "No," he said, panting each breath and fogging up the oxygen mask. "He's taller. And broader. Broad like Hunter. Dark blond hair. Blue eyes. He should be in his late forties now
…
I think. He
…
he lived in Central Florida. At least
…
he did years ago. But I don't know where he lives now." He quieted, panting each breath more heavily.

Aidan's heart slammed against his chest repeatedly. He looked over to the officer with the notebook in hand. "Put an APB out on Michael Johnson. Dark blond, blue-eyed, over six feet tall, thick-muscled frame and he's in his forties or early fifties. Prior known residence was Central Florida. Got it?"

The officer nodded and immediately turned, pulling a too-confused Jason along with him.

"We need to move you, Mr. Vega." The EMTs shoved Aidan out of the way and slid a board under Jessie, pulling him and the board onto the gurney and securing Jessie in place. Aidan numbly stepped aside as they worked then rolled the gurney out of the room, pushing through the crowd of officers and techs in the hallway.

"Aidan!" Jessie yelled on a panicked gasp, extending his bloodied hand and waving it from side to side searching for him.

"You need to lay still, Mr. Vega. You're going to pull out the IV," one of the EMTs said as they rolled the gurney out of the apartment.

Aidan pushed his way through the crowd of officers in the hallway and reached out to grab Jessie's hand. "I'm right here," he said, forcing the words through the suffocating knot wedged in his throat, thankful the contact seemed to calm Jessie a little. "Talk to me, Jess. I don't care if you recite the ABCs or count. I just need to hear your voice."

They jerked the gurney into the small elevator when the doors slid open.

"I fought back," Jessie said, slowly gasping each breath.

"I know you did."

"I
…
I hit him
…
with the angel."

"The angel?" Aidan brushed his thumb along Jessie's hand, not sure if Jessie could even feel the caress with all his injuries.

Jessie closed his swollen eye, his breath slowing. "The one
…
you gave me," he said, his voice growing fainter with each passing breath. "The one
…
you said
…
would watch over me
…
after Hunter went away and I started working on my own."

Aidan leaned over to whisper in Jessie's ear. "Please, Jess
…
I need you to keep fighting," he said, battling with the tightness in his throat and the pain in his chest.

"Aidan
…
"

"Yeah?"

"My head
…
it
…
hurts
…
and my
…
left
…
" Jessie said, each syllable more faint and slurred as he spoke.

One of the EMTs grabbed a stethoscope just as the elevator doors opened and they rolled the gurney to the ambulance. "He's got a pulse. It's thready but there. We need to get to the hospital. Now."

They all climbed into the back of the ambulance—fuck 'em if they thought he was staying behind. He sat on the bench seat, still holding Jessie's hand, refusing to release him as the EMTs continued to check and work on Jessie's injured body. In a matter of seconds, Jessie had tubes, wires, and entirely too many things connecting him to a series of bags, bottles, and machines.

Aidan tried to level his breathing and stave off the emotions choking him. In the midst of the frenzy surrounding him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting all the sounds fade around him. He leaned forward and buried his face into Jessie's hair, then did something he hadn't done in years.

He prayed.

Aidan paced the waiting room, cursing and mumbling under his breath with his cell phone pressed against his ear. "Ty?" he immediately said when the ringing stopped on the open line. He screwed his eyes shut, finally taking his first semi-deep breath after handing Jessie over to the doctors at the hospital emergency room.

"No, it's Cole. Ty's doing an interview. What's going on?" Cole Renzo, his brother's partner, asked, his voice alert and direct.

Aidan ran his hand through his hair. There was no way in hell he could put up with Cole's crass sarcasm or twisted humor right now. What the hell had possessed him to call them knowing they were in Orlando doing an annual auto show? "Never mind," he said, his voice strained.

"Fuck you. What's going on? Are you okay?"

Aidan's throat tightened. Okay? He was far from okay. He felt as if someone had ripped out his heart and lungs and left him on his own to figure out how to breathe.

"Is it Jessie?" Cole cautiously asked.

Aidan nodded then realized Cole was on the phone and couldn't see him. He cursed under his breath. "Hospital. It's bad," he managed to say in a tone he hoped sounded somewhat steady.

"Which one?"

After a few more seconds and even fewer words, they finally disconnected the call.

He paced the waiting room, repeatedly cursing, bartering with anything he could think of in hopes of changing the shitty hand of fate he always seemed to be dealt. He mumbled under his breath to himself, avoiding the odd stares from the people sitting in the hard plastic chairs in the room. What the hell was taking so long? He finally sat on one of the plastic chairs, crossing and uncrossing his legs. The TV mounted up in the corner of the room aired some stupid late-night rerun of some crap show that had ended years ago. They should have let it fade away in the sitcom graveyard. He stood and paced again, taking a deep breath and shoving his hands into his pockets. He looked toward the floor, trying to avoid the worried faces of the strangers in the waiting room.

He stopped when he saw the blood on his shirt. Jessie's blood. He clenched his jaw, looked straight ahead, and continued pacing. Fuck, he hated this place. The smell made him twitch. He wasn't sure if it was the smell of Jessie's blood on his shirt or the chemical stench inherent in the sterile setting he hated so much.

Why the hell couldn't someone give him an update? Something.

He paced, over and over, watching the clock tick away the seconds, minutes, an hour. The walls seemed as if they had shifted, somehow closing in on him. He shook his head and crossed his arms again. His pulse sped and his heart pounded against his chest, urging him to escape. Fucking hospital. Spending six months by Ty's side while he lay in a coma after the accident was enough hospital time to last a lifetime. How he had managed to stay sane while waiting for his brother to wake, he still didn't know.

A scream from the television snapped him back to the here and now with jarring speed. Damn, he hated that stupid show. He wrapped his arms around himself, hoping to hide some of Jessie's drying blood on his crisp white shirt. He just needed peace and quiet right now. Silence. No, he needed senseless white noise to set his mind right. Anything other than the screams from the TV or the worried faces cycling through the waiting room.

And he needed a fucking update.

He was going to go insane.

Julian Capeletti walked in through the sliding glass doors of the emergency room, towering over the night-shift nurses. Aidan sighed and his body sagged. Finally, a familiar face. He'd never been happier to see the prickly man. Julian quickly scanned the room and his pale green gaze locked with Aidan's, sending Julian on a beeline path toward him. He reached Aidan, grabbed him behind the neck, and pulled him into a hug without saying a word.

"I swear, if you tell me everything happens for a reason, I'll fucking rip you apart," Aidan said, his words muffled against Julian's muscled shoulder. He screwed his eyes shut as he took each strangled breath, trying to hold back the emotions that shook his body.