Long Slow Tease: Penance Part 21

"Ugh, you have no idea how sick I've been. Instead of morning sickness I have all day sickness."

James rubbed his wife's belly with a soft smile. "Seems the only thing she can keep down is peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches with a brand of strawberry jelly that you can only get in from an Amish farm in Pennsylvania. I s.h.i.t you not, I bought a case of that stuff. We ran out of the first jar last week and Yuki had me driving to every store in a thirty mile radius looking for that s.h.i.t."

"Speaking of which," Yuki said before licking her lips. "Can you get me a jar of it and a spoon?"

Laughing, Mich.e.l.le hugged Yuki again while James wandered off to the kitchen. "I'm so happy for you."

Pulling back, Yuki lowered her voice and said, "How are things going with you?"

"Better, much better."

"Good. I was afraid...well I was afraid." She teared up and grabbed Michele's hand. "Do you forgive me for not telling you about Wyatt?"

"So you did know what he was up to?"

"Yes. He called James the evening after he left the hotel and filled him in. Asked us to keep an eye on you. I'm sorry we didn't do a better job of it."

"No, please don't feel any guilt." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I think I needed to hit bottom in order to really take a look at my life. If you'd kept making up excuses for me, kept trying to protect me, then I never would have learned to stand on my own. Not that I'm blaming you in any way for my f.u.c.ked up life, but you love me and we try to protect those we love even when we need to let them fail."

"Wow, Mich.e.l.le, that actually sounded really mature."

"Shut up. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry I've been such a difficult b.i.t.c.h."

"You are a difficult b.i.t.c.h, but you're my difficult b.i.t.c.h." She leaned back and examined Mich.e.l.le. "Wyatt's really good for you and he loves you with everything he has, you know that, right?"

"I do, and I love him with everything I have. He's my guardian angel." She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Have you seen his tattoo yet?"

Giving an excited bounce, Yuki shook her head. "He described it to me but wouldn't show me any pictures. Said you got to see it first."

"It is totally drool worthy."

Wyatt's voice came from behind her, hoa.r.s.e and unexpectedly grave. "Mich.e.l.le, we have to leave."

She immediately stood and turned to face him, his grim expression making her heart race. "Wyatt, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"That was Wendy on the phone. A tornado, a big one, hit one of the suburbs south of Houston. We've been called up. They need us as soon as we can get to Front Line. We need to go get changed and haul a.s.s."

For one, brief moment a terrible panic filled her, a choking feeling that made her vision dim before she forced herself to focus just on Wyatt, on his dark eyes, and drew in a deep breath. Just like riding a bike, her training and years of experience as a surgeon both in and out of the Navy kicked in and a focused calm settled over her. "Let's go."

Chapter 18.

Wyatt squeezed Mich.e.l.le's hand as they began to see signs of the tornado's devastation through the windows of the SUV. They were riding with two other volunteers and the back of the SUV was packed with emergency medical supplies and special gear used during search and rescue to try and find victims as well as a trailer hooked up behind the SUV with a huge generator. They'd pa.s.sed over the first signs of the storm's path of destruction a couple miles back where a tornado had plowed over Highway 6. Cars, semi-trucks, and debris had been scattered all over the area and his stomach clenched as he tried to not think about how many lives had been lost.

They'd been flagged through by the police and now joined a convoy of emergency vehicles streaming their way into the suburban city of Sugar Land which had suffered a direct hit from a ma.s.sive tornado that was at least a mile wide at one point. A continuous stream of chatter came from the CB at the front of the SUV, different emergency agencies reporting ma.s.s destruction on an epic scale. Wyatt was struggling to keep his cool, but it was getting harder and harder. The sight of all those vehicles destroyed by the tornado reminded him too much of vehicles after they'd been hit by an IED or mortar and he'd had a few moments where he came close to panicking. It was only because of Mich.e.l.le that he'd managed to keep his s.h.i.t under control.

He could do this. People needed his help, Mich.e.l.le needed his help. He would not let her down.

He noticed a metallic taste in his mouth as he got his first glimpse at some of the worst devastation. They were arriving about an hour after the storm had struck so there were already emergency vehicles with extremely bright lights shining on the destruction here and there along with an almost continuous strobe of lights from police cars and ambulances.

They reached a cl.u.s.ter of police cars and Greg, a retired Army Staff Sergeant who was driving the SUV, let out a harsh breath then rolled down his window and one of the police officers came over. "Evening. We're first responders with Front Line trained in search and rescue. We have a doctor and a paramedic with us. Where do you want us?"

The harried looking officer rubbed his face. "St. Luke's Hospital took some major damage, it's a f.u.c.king mess over there and they're triaging in the parking lot. If you've got medical with you we could sure use at the hospital. Give me a second and I'll escort you. The streets..." he swallowed hard. "It's bad."

Mich.e.l.le's hand gripped Wyatt's harder and he squeezed back, the police officer's words digging into his head like needles. He forced himself to focus on the very civilian interior of the SUV, on the front seat and the bright pink shirt that Dawn, the paramedic and former Navy corpsman wore a normal, everyday things that he'd never see over in the sandbox. Dawn glanced back at them and he could easily see her distress. Before he could move to comfort her Mich.e.l.le leaned forward and gave Dawn's shoulder a squeeze before whispering something to the other woman.

Greg nodded. "I'll follow you."

The police officer hesitated, then said in a low voice, "It's a ma.s.s casualty situation over there right now. You need to prepare yourselves." Before Greg could respond the police officer left and got into one of the nearby police cars and pulled out in front of them.

"Okay boys and girls, time to buck the f.u.c.k up."

Mich.e.l.le gave Dawn's shoulder another squeeze before sitting back. "How do you want to run this?"

"Mich.e.l.le, you go where they need you. Wyatt, I want you sticking to Mich.e.l.le's side like a fly on s.h.i.t. You get her anything and everything she needs. You served together over in Afghanistan, right?"

Trying to keep his mind focused on the present Wyatt nodded. "Yep."

"Good. I'm going to a.s.sist Dawn. They might have us go out with a search and rescue crew because of Dawn's skills as a paramedic, but they'll probably keep you and Mich.e.l.le in the triage area. Keep your satellite phones on at all times. Mich.e.l.le, you helped pack up your med bags so you know what's in 'em and you know what we have back at the armory. I'm not sure what kind of supplies you'll have available to you, but if you need more and you know we have it in stock at the armory, call home base and we'll try and get you what you need as soon as possible."

The no-bulls.h.i.t tone of Greg's voice helped Wyatt calm himself somewhat, but as they pa.s.sed groups of crying people, covered in mud and clinging to each other, his heart raced. Everywhere he looked there was misery, pain, and suffering. While he'd known in theory that they'd be facing some of the worse things a human being could see, he hadn't been ready for the emotional impact. At least on the battlefield he'd been somewhat prepared for the inevitable injuries and loss of life.

Seeing entire neighborhoods destroyed, familiar landmarks now reduced to rubble, he was having a hard time keeping his s.h.i.t in check. Already his mind was insisting he was seeing things that shouldn't be there, like a man with a rocket launcher that was in reality only a fluttering sheet wrapped around a tree stripped of its bark. His heart raced and he tried to swallow past the metallic tang that filled his mouth, reminding him of blood.

In an effort to distract himself, to keep his mind from fleeing and leaving behind a terrified animal in a man's body, he began to go through the tricks he'd learned in therapy to ground himself. He focused on things that would keep him in the moment, things that he wouldn't see over in the sandbox. He gazed at Dawn, taking in the bright pink of her shirt with her neon orange vest over it. They were bright, bold, clean colors that he would never see out on a mission. Next he turned to Mich.e.l.le and examined the sparkling eyeshadow she wore, the hint of pink lipstick left on her lips, the dangling silver earrings brush against her clean neck as she turned to look out her window. They'd taken time to change into heavy cargo pants with supplies in the pockets and the t-shirts that marked them as part of the Front Line first responders team, as well as their own orange vests.

All those things helped ground him, but what helped the most was the focused intensity on Mich.e.l.le's face. In all the bulls.h.i.t they'd gone through together he'd almost forgotten how formidable Mich.e.l.le could be in an emergency situation. He could actually see her mind focus to a laser like precision and the core of strength in her rise to the surface. Pride suddenly filled him, helping to push back his panic as he examined his woman. While most people, himself included, would be freaking out his Domina was gathering her formidable willpower for the time ahead.

The SUV slowed and Dawn let out a shaky breath then said, "Holy s.h.i.t."

Wyatt leaned forward to look through the windshield and his stomach dropped. He didn't know what the hospital had looked like before the tornado, but now it was absolutely trashed. There was what appeared to be a two story main building flanked on either side by two five story buildings. Most of the windows had been blown out and the top floor of the building on the left looked like it had collapsed on itself. Emergency vehicles crowded the area with a stream of ambulances being loaded up one by one on the far side of the lot. A bulldozer was pushing the crumpled wrecks of cars off to one side of the parking area and the s.p.a.ce that had been cleared had tents set up with emergency generators roaring and huge portable lights illuminating the area.

Greg slowed down as they pulled in and the police officer ahead of them must have told the female police officer directing traffic who they were because she waved them through.

Rolling down his window, Greg said, "Where do you want us?"

"Head left and park where you can. Get your medical people to one of the triage tents and they'll tell you where to go from there. If you could train your lights on the lake we'd appreciate it."

"Got it."

As Greg pulled farther into the chaos of the medical center Wyatt almost asked why they'd want the lights on the lake, then his stomach sank as he realized there might be victims in the water. With all the lakes in this area there wasn't any doubt that people would have been thrown into the water if their house didn't have a storm shelter of some type. Greg pulled into an empty spot between a downed tree and a pile of rubble. He turned on the super bright lights fastened to the top of the SUV and they all drew in a collective harsh breath at the sight of pieces of buildings, insulation, and G.o.d knew what else floating in the water along with people in boats searching through the wreckage.

"Sweet Mary, mother of G.o.d," Dawn whispered as she crossed herself.

Mich.e.l.le was already exiting the vehicle. "Gary, unlock the trunk."

Her command filled voice seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor and Wyatt found himself grabbing two heavy duffle bags and following Mich.e.l.le at a brisk jog towards the white triage tents with their yellow awnings. She had her duffle bag on her back like a back pack and he was glad that he'd kept in shape because she was hauling a.s.s. They pa.s.sed groups of frantic people, some crying, others in shock as Red Cross volunteers handed out blankets and talked with them. When they reached the entrance to one of the tents, a harried looking man in blue scrubs stopped them.

Before he could speak Mich.e.l.le was rattling off who she was, what she was qualified for, and asking where he wanted her. For the next ten minutes, Wyatt watched his woman take total control of the situation, easily merging with the trauma team she'd been a.s.signed to. Wyatt stayed by her side as he'd been ordered to by Greg, but after she'd been set up in a trauma bay one of the Red Cross volunteers asked him to give a hand with incoming wounded.

He waited until Mich.e.l.le stabilized her patient for transport before placing his hand on her shoulder. "They need my help outside. You going to be okay?"

She barely looked at him and nodded, her attention totally focused on the next patient, an elderly woman with what looked like a pretty nasty head wound. "Got it. Make sure they give you some protection to wear. Keep your gloves on and try to not get any blood on you."

"Roger that." He gave her shoulder another squeeze. "You're doing good, Doc."

Turning, she looked at him, really looked at him, and nodded. "Just doing my job, jarhead. Now go make yourself useful and lift some s.h.i.t."

Her attempt at humor helped make an unbearable situation just a little bit better and he smiled at her before heading out of the tent and getting geared up. For a moment he paused, stunned by the sight of what looked like a never-ending stream of cars pulling into the lot in a long line, each carrying a victim of the tornado. The sheer number of people pouring into the parking lot of the hospital threatened to overwhelm him, but he saw a man covered in mud and debris stagger out of his vehicle about five cars down with a young, blonde-haired child in his arms. Without even thinking Wyatt took off and went to his aid. The man had what appeared to be a broken leg, but his daughter was unresponsive. Wyatt helped them get to the triage center, then went back and pulled their car off into an area recently cleared by the bulldozer. He left the keys under the floor mat and along with a couple of volunteers began the heartbreaking task of helping the people bringing in their injured.

The rest of the night pa.s.sed in a blur and he had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed, but when a Red Cross volunteer finally managed to get him to sit down with a sandwich and a cup of coffee his body ached almost as bad as his heart. He'd seen so much suffering tonight, so much agony, and he barely tasted the food as he ate, his gaze focused on the parking lot. A few moments later a middle-aged woman in stained hospital scrubs took a seat next to him on the edge of the curb and let out a weary sigh.

"What a cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k."

Wyatt managed to drag his mind off the mental images of all the victims he'd seen and focus on the woman sitting next to him. She looked beyond weary and her blue eyes were red and swollen when she met his gaze. "You're Wyatt, right?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Your wife asked me to check on you."

"My wife?"

She frowned at him. "Dr. Sapphire?"

"Oh, she's not my wife. She's..." saying she was his girlfriend didn't seem adequate and he struggled to put into words what she meant to him. "She's my everything."

"My name's Marsha. How're you holding up?"

"Fine. How's Mich.e.l.le?" He felt slightly ashamed that he hadn't thought before now to check on her, but he'd been so wrapped up in living in the moment that he'd scarcely had time to think beyond what emergency he had to deal with next.

"Amazing. I've been working with her all night; that woman is a machine."

He frowned. "Has she taken any breaks?"

"Yeah, we've forced her to. She doesn't like it but I can be quite the b.i.t.c.h when necessary." She suddenly grinned, taking years off her lined face. "Though she can cuss up a blue streak with the best of them. Guess it's all those years in the military. I swear she made half the men in the tent blush when someone screwed up and sent her the wrong blood type."

Chuckling, Wyatt shook his head, then took a drink of his coffee. "Scary, isn't she?"

"Actually, no. She's driven, there's a difference. Being scary is just a way of hiding weakness, of trying to bl.u.s.ter your way through life. Trust me, I'm an ER nurse and I've dealt with more than my fair share of egotistical a.s.sholes that lose their s.h.i.t when they're faced with something they've never seen before. Dr. Sapphire doesn't intimidate people to shut them up, she intimidates them to get them to do their d.a.m.n job. Quite refreshing, actually."

Wyatt looked down into his cup of coffee, then back up to the ruins of the hospital again. A steady stream of helicopters was now transporting victims from a nearby field. His mind flashed back to watching the choppers come in with wounded and for a moment the heat of the desert washed over him and he gasped as he swore he saw a blue sky surrounded by nothing but sand and rock. The shock was so great his grip convulsed on the Styrofoam coffee cup, crushing it. The heat splashing over his fingers brought him back to the present and Marsha grabbed his hand.

"Hey, you okay?"

He blinked at her for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

Looking closely at him, she slowly nodded and released his hand. "Dr. Sapphire said you were...sorry...are a Marine and you served overseas together. First, thank you for your service, second, thank you for volunteering like this. We need more people like you as first responders."

Overhead another chopper flew off into the pre-dawn sky and he tracked it before returning his attention to Marsha. For some reason he found it easy to talk to the woman. He didn't know if it was because he'd been going to therapy or what, but his need to close down and pretend nothing was bothering him wasn't as strong. "I don't feel like I did much tonight."

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" She shook her head and pointed to his sandwich. "Eat."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Though I've never been in a battlefield situation myself, I have been an ER nurse for a long time and let me tell you, I've seen some s.h.i.t that haunts me to this day." She went silent for a moment then met his gaze. "You and me, we're the ones that people turn to when everything around them is falling apart, because we've already been through h.e.l.l and come out the other side. Not without scars and demons of our own, but we survived it. Do you know how many newbies I had to use smelling salts on tonight? How many people, trained medical professionals, went into hysterics? More than I care to admit. You did good tonight, Wyatt."

He shrugged, uncomfortable with her praise. "I wish I could have done more."

"Don't we all?" She stood and stretched. "Now, Dr. Sapphire has been in triage for about ten hours straight now. We have more help pouring in all the time and we can cover her absence. You need to get her out of there and into bed, no matter what she says. If you need some chloroform let me know."

He stood as well, his body aching. "I might have to. She can get awful ornery."

Marsha walked with him back to the tent. "You know she loves you, right? That's why I thought you were married. She talks about you the way a wife talks about her husband. I don't know you and I know it's none of my business, but I just thought you might like to know that."

A small ember of pleasure burned in his chest, helping to push back the darkness. "Are you saying I should ask her to marry me?"

Marsha smiled at him. "Now that would be just downright rude and presumptive of me, wouldn't it?"

Laughing, he stopped outside the entrance. "It was nice meeting you Marsha, but I need to call and arrange our ride out of here."

She patted his cheek. "You're a good man, Wyatt. Take care of her for me. Mich.e.l.le has my email address, drop me a line sometime. I'd love to have you and your lady over for a barbecue with my family."

"Thanks, I'm sure we'll take you up on it."

Marsha waved and Wyatt used his satellite phone to get ahold of Greg. The SUV was still in the parking lot with the keys in the glove box. He told Wyatt to take it back to the armory, that Dawn had already caught a ride home but that he was going to stay a bit longer to help with some gas line issues. After hanging up, Wyatt stripped off his stained coveralls and went into the tent.

It was a very different scene from when he'd last been inside, a lot more organized and less of a frantic pace. There were still patients coming in, but nothing like when they'd first arrived. He soon found Mich.e.l.le sitting next to a sleeping young girl clutching a pink bunny. On the other side of the young girl's cot sat a woman who he a.s.sumed was the girl's mother, they both had similar facial features. The mother had a bandage wrapped around her head and she kept touching the little girl, stroking her hair and looking down at the sleeping child before glancing back up at Mich.e.l.le as if she was afraid the little girl was going to vanish before her eyes.

Mich.e.l.le spotted him first and his heart ached at the dark circles he saw beneath her eyes. She stood and for a moment he was afraid she was going to start crying, but instead she smiled at him, a real smile, and something in his heart eased. While she certainly looked tired, he didn't detect any signs of emotional strain. f.u.c.k, she certainly looked better than he felt.

"Wyatt," Mich.e.l.le said in a voice filled with warm pleasure. "I was wondering where you were."

Without thinking he grabbed her up in a hug, lifting her feet from the floor and burying his face against her neck, deeply inhaling the faint traces of her perfume. She smelled clean, so beautifully and wonderfully clean. Instead of protesting his tight grip she wrapped her arms around him and cradled her head against her neck. Stroking his hair, she murmured about how much she loved him, how she was so proud of him, and how he'd helped so many people today. These were all the things he wanted to say to her, but as always, Mich.e.l.le was so much more eloquent than he could ever hope to be. It was funny how she was one of those people that seemed to thrive under high pressure situations while he could only take so much before he started to crack.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, sending a pleasurable pain tingling through his nervous system as she not-so-gently jerked his head back so she could look at him. He didn't know if it was the strain of the night or what, but the part of Mich.e.l.le's soul that made her a Domina was at the forefront and he shivered beneath her gaze. When she looked at him like this he felt stripped bare and bleeding raw, totally open to her and hoping she wasn't disgusted by what she saw. An infinitely gentle warmth softened her gaze. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his.

"Ready to go home?"

The rest of the world faded, the voices and crying becoming nothing more than a soft roar like the waves of the ocean. He clung to her, his rock, his strength, the one thing in the world solid enough to keep him from being swept away by the madness that seemed to constantly hover around him like an enemy that never tired, looking for a way into his soul. A hard shudder gripped him and she made a soft, soothing sound.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower. Let's head back and clean up, then you can make me something totally fattening and loaded with calories." She laughed and rubbed her nose against his. "Or maybe we can just grab a box of doughnuts on the way back. Nothing sounds better than falling asleep in your arms right now."