Chapter Six
Doctor Poe Seville’s
Home
Almost Noon
T hankfully, it had been a very quiet morning after they had breakfast, and no one was angsty. Normally, with a patient like Gamble, there tended to be a power struggle between him and the patient, but that wasn’t the case.
Not at all.
Gamble wasn’t fighting.
In fact, he was letting Poe do what he needed to do, as he simply existed.
That was the worrisome part.
The man had very little left in him, and Elizabeth had gotten Gamble to him just in time. A little later, and there would be no way of saving him.
It would be racing against an unforgiving clock.
After eating all of his breakfast, Gamble needed to sleep a bit, to recharge.
So, he put him in the guest room that opened up into the master suite. It was so he could check on him, or get to him if there was an issue during the night.
From his file, and the notes that were made in it, he knew the man had night terrors.
Not that there was anything odd about that, considering the circumstances.
When he put him in the bed, Gamble seemed to melt into the bedding and immediately fall asleep—almost like he was grateful to run and hide.
For now, Poe would let him. It was only day one, and there were fifty-nine more to go before he had to keep his promise of giving Gamble permission to go.
Hopefully, they would beat this together.
Glancing at his watch, it was time for the man to get up, and start the kind of therapy he needed.
While sleeping was so much easier, he simply couldn’t hide forever. That wasn’t going to solve his problems.
Heading to his room, he knocked on the door, not expecting the man to be awake. When he opened, because he didn’t answer, he found Gamble sitting in a chair with a lighter in his hand.
Oh, boy.
“Did you rest well?” he asked, moving closer only to see that the man had been burning his skin.
A tattoo.
It smelled like burnt flesh, and had to be incredibly painful.
This was worse than he believed. The man was harming himself.
“What are you doing?” he asked, horrified, as he took the lighter from his hand. “Gamble, Mate, what are you doing?”
Gamble was honest.
“I can’t look at her anymore,” he said, looking up, tears in his eyes.
Poe took his arm, and held it gently in his fingers. There, he checked out what was offending him so damn much that he’d withstand this kind of pain.
On his forearm was a tattoo of who Poe suspected to be his deceased wife.
“I need to get it off of me. I can’t look at her and see her staring back and mocking me. She won. God. She won. I’m too weak.”
Poe inspected the damage he did to his flesh. Someone was definitely further gone than he’d expected.
This was a dangerous territory, and he was going to have to not leave him alone for a second.
The man was a danger to himself.
Clearly.
On top of that, he wasn’t sure where he got that lighter. Then, realization dawned.
Someone had some sticky fingers since it looked like his from the kitchen.
“I have to clean this wound up, and get it wrapped up. You can’t do things like this. This could get infected, and you could die.”
Gamble stared at him. Only, with each day, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper.
“I don’t feel anything anymore,” he said softly. “What does it matter? Just let me go. I’m in so much pain,” he whispered.
Poe couldn’t do that.
He’d never lost a patient, and he wasn’t starting now. He began fighting for the man’s life.
“It matters, Gamble. You matter. We can do this, and I know you’re in pain. Let me fight for you while you’re not strong enough. I’ll be your advocate, and I will get you through this.”
Gamble stared into his eyes.
“I need to know. Can you really save me from this?” he asked.
Poe had no doubt that he could.
“If you listen and let me help, I absolutely can fix this, and make you strong again. I just need your faith and trust.”
Slowly, he nodded.
Well, that was a start.
“Now, let’s get to the bathroom. I’ll help you there,” he offered. “A shave and shower would make a world of difference.”
Gamble didn’t say anything, but he was going to give the man a shot.
As he stood, he was wobbly on his feet.
That made Poe wonder if he could stand up in a shower. They might have to rethink that part.
Walking into the bathroom was an adventure, but finally, he got him there.
Sitting him on the toilet lid, he took care of the wound on his arm, cleaning it with a washcloth, and putting a heavy-duty burn cream on it.
The whole time, he didn’t move.
As he was sealing it under some waterproof bandages, that’s when Gamble spoke again.
“I need her gone.”
He got down and stared into Gamble’s eyes.
“Hey. We’ll get her removed or covered. You can’t burn her off. I’ll call someone to help you when it heals. Okay? Until then, we can just cover it with bandages and not look at her.”
“You’ll help me get it removed?”
Poe promised.
“I will. As soon as the burn is healed, we’ll take care of it. I promise.”
He slowly nodded, and that was all Poe had to see. It looked like he had his trust.
“Can you stand for a shower?” Poe asked, trying to figure out what would work best.
Gamble shook his head.
“I don’t know if I can.”
That left one option.
“Okay, a bath it is,” he said, getting up, turning on the slipper tub’s water, and filling it. He added some bubbles, not so he could have a bubble bath, but to give the man some modesty when he was in the water.
If it was him, he’d want someone to protect him when he was at his lowest point.
“Let me help you,” Poe offered, as he began pulling off his shirt. As he was close, and not combative, he saw all of the ink on his body.
He tried to distract him.
“Where were you when you got this tattoo?” he asked, touching his shoulder blade.
“Rwanda. I was helping some Marines out, and I had some time to burn. So I got that ink.”
Poe’s brother had a bunch of tattoos from battles, and he recalled him telling him pretty much the same thing.
Boredom.
“How about this one?” he asked, touching his other shoulder.
Gamble didn’t even have to look.
“I got that with The Hunters. The people I call my family. They were the ones trying to keep me alive.”
Poe tried to connect the man to something. It would keep him fighting.
“They love you a lot. I met two of them, and they were ready to strip search me and check my ID.”
He already knew who he was talking about.
“Jagger and Maura are Marines too. I let them down,” he admitted.
Poe began doing what he did best.
“Maybe they feel the same about you.”
Gamble paused.
“They never let me down.”
Poe went in for the kill.
“Funny. They would say the same about you too. Maybe you’re carrying that guilt for no reason. They are protective of you, and love you. You’re lucky to have people who feel that for you.”
Gamble remembered every moment they sat with him, tried to feed him, and kept fighting for him.
“If I don’t make it,” Gamble began, “I want to have some letters for them to get. Can you do that for me?”
“I can,” Poe admitted. “But I won’t need to, Gamble, because I have faith in you. You’re going to recover. I gave you my word.”
Yeah, and Storm had done the same thing.
Look how that ended.
“How about we get you cleaned up, and then, we’ll work on all of this later?”
He nodded.
Because he was weak, Poe pulled him up, and it wasn’t easy.
Gamble was over six feet tall, and Poe was the average height for a man, just under six feet. There was no doubt they weighed about the same now, but when Gamble put the weight back on, he’d be difficult to move.
From his military file, he could see that he was a big man with muscles and bulk.
Now he was a walking skeleton.
Poe couldn’t wait to get him back to the land of the living.
“I’m going to help you out of your sweats and boxer briefs. While you were sleeping, I had Reginald go buy you some new things to make you feel comfortable.”
“Thank you,” he said, as he could feel the man’s hands on his body, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t want to run.
He only had to wait sixty days, and he would be free. If this man failed his mission, at least Gamble had a way out.
That was plan B.
Gently, Poe shoved his sweats down, and then helped hold him as he stepped out of them.
“Do you want me to leave so you can take your underwear off?” he asked, willing to allow him some privacy.
“I’m good. You have a dick, so you’ve seen one before, right?”
He laughed.
That caught him off guard.
There was that Marine sense of humor in there. Honestly, his brother had been like that until he died.
“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” he admitted. “You know, since I have one of my own, and I had a twin brother who liked to piss just about everywhere in the woods when we were kids.”
“Then, I’m good.”
When he’d been given the okay, he pulled his boxer briefs down, and tried not to check the man out.
It was damn difficult because he had tattoos on his thighs, and hips. He was covered, and Poe had no ink. It had always fascinated him.
It was the story of Gamble’s existence, and he was curious.
Sue him.
When he got him naked, that was one step down.
“Okay, now, into the tub,” he said, helping him over to it. When he put his first leg over the rim, he tipped, and Poe had him.
“You’re good,” he promised. “I won’t drop you,” he added.
Somehow, he managed to get the man’s legs into the tub, and Gamble slid down into the wet heat.
With a sigh.
Poe knew that feeling.
“There’s nothing like a good soak to make you feel better,” he admitted. “It’s a little luxury that I will never take for granted.”
He didn’t reply.
It was clear Gamble wasn’t a man of many words.
Poe made sure he was okay, and that Gamble’s bandaged arm was on the ledge of the tub.
When Poe went to move away, Gamble moved fast and grabbed his arm.
Poe gasped.
“Please don’t leave me in here. I can’t bear to be in a bathroom for long—let alone a bath tub.”
And that’s when he got it.
Shit.
He’d not even considered that. Maybe he should have just held him up in a shower.
Poe tried to reassure him.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m going to the medicine cabinet and I’m going to get some shaving cream and a razor. I want to help you.”
He released his arm.
“I can shave myself. Just give me the razor.”
Oh, he was a funny, funny man.
Yeah, no.
Poe was honest.
“After the lighter incident, Mr. Holloway, you’re going to have to prove to me that you won’t slice your throat and die. Until I can make sure you won’t harm yourself, I can’t let you have the razor. Maybe in a few weeks.”
He stared into Poe’s eyes.
“Wise choice.”
While that sounded like a threat, Poe wasn’t sure it was. Honestly, he believed Gamble to be a danger to himself, not others.
As he grabbed the shaving cream, he found a razor, and headed back toward him. Poe made sure to put the razor just out of his reach.
He squirted some into his hands, and then rubbed them together.
“No offence, Gamble, and I hope you don’t get angry with me, but I’ll be shaving you. When you want me to, just ask. I don’t mind.”
Gamble tried to laugh.
Only, it was empty and hollow.
“You’re a smart man, Doctor Seville,” he said. “Has anyone told you that?”
Oh, many had.
The problem with that was you lived in your own head and the minds of the damaged. Only, no one prepared him for Gamble Holloway.
This man was…something.
Poe had this overwhelming need to make sure he survived—more so than ever before.
“Lean your head back,” he said, pulling a low stool over to sit beside the tub. Gently, he massaged the shaving cream into his face, and worked it into the five o’clock shadow there.
Someone had clearly been helping him shave.
“They had an electric razor,” Gamble said, as if reading his mind. “No one will let me have sharp objects and with good reason. I’m broken.”
That was probably for the best.
Poe made a mental note to put away the knives and anything that this man could use to harm himself.
To shave him, Poe picked up the razor, and slowly began moving it over his face, and then rinsing it off in the sink. When half of his face was done, he began working on the other side.
“What would you like for lunch?” he asked, trying to make small talk.
“I just ate.”
Oh, he was aware.
Only, he was withering away, and the man needed calories to survive.
“You’ve lost weight. Your file says you were two fifty. You’re only about a hundred and ninety now. You need to get some weight back on you. That means, three meals a day, and snacks. I do love a good snack at High Tea.”
Gamble was curious.
“Why are you fighting so hard for me?” he asked Poe. “Why do you care if I make it or not?”
All doctors had a reason, and his were personal. With each soldier, he thought about his brother.
And how much he missed him.
He was honest.
“Because you’re a human being and you have feelings and emotions. That’s enough of a reason, but add in that you’re a hero, and loved…that’s why.”
Gamble liked him. The man was kind, and he wasn’t like the VA doctors.
He was gentle.
That meant warning him.
“I’m a mess and dangerous, Doctor. I have nothing left to live for anymore.”
He didn’t think he did, but at one point, they’d make the turn around the corner and life would start again. He’d make sure of it.
“You’re only dangerous to yourself now,” he admitted. “I’m not worried about you hurting me, Gamble. I’m going to help you through this.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gamble grabbed his arm, yanked, got the razor from him, and pulled Poe into the water with him.
Then, before he could even open his mouth, the razor was against his jugular.
Poe was surprised and caught off guard.
Holy shit!
Someone moved fast.
Gamble’s lips were by his ear.
“If you’re smart, Doctor, you’ll just let me die. I don’t want to hurt anyone but myself. Don’t make me that desperate animal.”
His heart was pounding, and he was braced against Gamble’s chest, being held there.
Finally, he spoke.
“I can’t do that. I’m invested in you. We’ll either get through this together, or we both go out,” he said, trying not to move. His hands were on Gamble’s thighs, and he was praying for the man to let him go. “Going forward, Gamble, we’re partners. It’s not my success. It’s OUR success.”
At first, Gamble didn’t say a word. He just held the smaller man trapped against him. The doctor was still in his clothes.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, loosening the hold on the man, as he realized that the doctor wasn’t fighting him.
“No. I’m not hurt. It’s how I know you’re redeemable, Gamble. Had you not been, you would have killed me and yourself. You didn’t. Why?” he asked, still not moving.
This was one joint bubble bath he would NEVER forget. That was for damn sure.
At the question, Gamble couldn’t give him an answer. He thought about it, and finally found one.
“Because I don’t hate you. I hate her.”
Carefully, he reached for the razor, and Gamble didn’t put up a fight. He freed it from his fingers and was able to breathe again.
That had been a close one.
Gamble apologized.
“I’m sorry,” he admitted.
Truthfully, Poe was okay.
The only thing that happened was he had gotten wet and a little scared.
Moving, he turned, and Gamble’s face was still only half shaved. Kneeling in the tub in his soaking wet clothing, he worked on the rest of his face.
Not a word was said, but Poe kept staring into Gamble’s eyes. It was weird being in a tub with another man—well, a patient.
Oh, and all kinds of wrong.
Why?
Poe had liked the way he felt against his body, and that was going to make it tricky. He was a gay man, and Gamble was not.
He was also his patient.
There was no way he could use his job to further any kind of emotional connection to the man. It was all kinds of wrong for a doctor to start ANY kind of relationship with one of his patients.
As in ‘lose your license to practice wrong’ .
Poe knew that he had to tread carefully, and that he had to keep the focus on one thing.
Healing Gamble.
That was it.
There could never be anything more.
“Do you always find yourself in a tub with a crazy man?” Gamble asked, as he let the doctor shave him.
He actually laughed.
How could he not?
The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him. As a gay man, who had dated other men, and been burned before, he had absolutely been in a tub with someone who was crazy.
Just not a patient.
“No, this is absolutely a first,” he said, his accent out as he tried to not think about anything but Gamble’s well-being.
“Me too. It’s not the worst feeling in the world,” Gamble admitted. “I’m sorry that I ruined your clothing.”
Poe was trying to keep it light.
“It’s only things, Gamble. Your well-being means more to me than my shirt and pants. I have plenty of things.”
Gamble said nothing.
But deep down, he felt…safe.
He avoided bathrooms as much as possible, since finding his child dead in his.
Now, he was calmer.
When Poe was finished with the shaving, he used his hands to cup water and rinse the rest of the shaving cream off of his face.
Then, he stood.
“Let me get out of this tub, and dry off,” he stated. “Then, I’ll help you.”
Gamble watched him like he was studying the situation. He didn’t understand a lot of things lately in his life, this doctor being one of them.
But he said nothing.
As Poe got out, he began taking off his shirt and jeans. There was a washer and dryer right in the bathroom, so he pulled them off, and dumped them in there.
The whole time, his boxers were plastered to his body. When he turned, Gamble was watching him, and it made him feel like prey.
It was silly, and he shook it off.
“Can I leave you for one minute?” he asked. “Or will I regret it?”
Gamble pointed.
“Can I have that big sponge and some soap?” he asked, wanting to have a little normalcy. He wanted to feel clean if that was possible.
Okay, that he could do.
Poe didn’t see any harm in giving the man that. Only, he knew he didn’t answer his question.
“Promise me you won’t hurt yourself,” he said, not giving him what he asked for until he did just that.
“How am I going to hurt myself with a sponge and soap? Cram them down my throat to suffocate?” he asked.
Poe just stared at him.
Waiting…
“Fine,” Gamble said, not sure why he gave in. The man seemed to be able to make him want to comply.
Maybe he had faith.
“I won’t hurt myself. I promise.”
That was all he needed to hear. It was clear that they were building trust.
Getting the soap and sponge, he handed the two items to the man.
Here is where trust came into play.
“Give me a minute,” he said, as he left Gamble alone. As soon as he was out of the room, he kept talking to him. “Are you okay, Gamble?” he asked.
Gamble washed his body, and tried to forget how much his heart hurt.
For just a minute.
“Yes, Doc. I’m fine. I’m not lucky enough to drown in the bathtub.”
Like his child.
God.
He wished he could go be with her. That was all he wanted.
Not Storm.
But his child.
Because this man was his responsibility, he peeked his head in, and saw Gamble washing himself.
That was harmless enough.
He wasn’t looking at the razor on the counter, or trying to do anymore damage.
Maybe they might just be okay.
Poe made a mental note that Gamble had moments of clarity where he could function. That told him that they could break through.
That was what he would work on.
“Anyway, we were discussing lunch,” Poe said, coming back into the room. He was barefoot and shirtless. “What would tickle your fancy.”
Gamble was watching him.
For some reason, he felt calmer around this man. He wasn’t sure why, but it was nice not to feel decimated.
“Pizza.”
Poe smiled.
That was also a good sign. He was willingly choosing food.
“Well, Mr. Holloway, I happen to make a mean pizza. Unless you want me to order you one instead. I’ll let you decide. I’m very fond of American pizza.”
Honestly, Gamble didn’t care.
He wasn’t really hungry, but he had to get through the sixty days. In his mind, there was no way this man could fix him.
So, why fight him?
“Can I ask you something?” Gamble asked, changing the subject.
“Sure.”
Poe assumed it was about the pizza.
He.
Was.
Wrong.
That wasn’t the case.
“Did you mean what you said? If I give you two months, and it doesn’t work, you’ll help me die?”
Poe stared into his bi-colored eyes. They were very distracting and gorgeous.
“I didn’t lie to you.”
Gamble would bide his time.
“Then homemade pizza sounds good.”
In that moment, Poe Seville knew a few things.
This man was going to make him work for it.
And if he had to, he’d call Elizabeth to get a different psychologist to help him.
Because what he was feeling about this man…
It was unsettling.
And a first for him.
* * * H U N T E R – C R O F T * * *
Somewhere
Over The Ocean
En Route To NOLA
As Alexsandr looked at his watch, it was time for him to call in for his meeting with a man who was helping him hold down the fort in New Orleans .
He was the only other contact he had, now that he couldn’t find the German woman.
Well, fuck her.
She’d get hers.
Bet.
On.
It.
All he knew was that in six hours, tonight, he would be landing in New Orleans , and he would be ready to go. His first stop would be the warehouse, so he could get his hands on some weapons, drugs, and money.
Thankfully, they’d planned ahead.
It was all of the goodies that he’d had funneled into the United States to make sure his arrival was up and running.
The drugs weren’t for him.
No.
They were to sell to make more money if he needed it. While he liked to have fun, he wasn’t the kind of man who liked drugs in his system.
It screwed with his ability to…think.
Now, a drugged-up woman to break in order to get what he wanted…
That was another story.
It had been a while since he’d found a woman he felt something for, Alina was the last one, and she…betrayed him.
He trained her, taught her how to please him, and in the end, she lied to his face.
Instead of coming to the US to prepare for him, she went into hiding.
To escape him.
Well, he had news for her.
If he ever found her again, he’d tie her down, and he’d let every man within a hundred miles use her body until she was dead.
He actually cared about her, and she burned him. He’d loved her.
Oh, well, that wouldn’t happen again.
She’d taught him love was something that you didn’t need in your life.
Right behind compassion.
And Kindness.
Deep down, he knew she was dead.
There was no way she survived without him. The dumb whore wouldn’t make it a week without him. She tried to be strong, but she was nothing.
NOTHING.
Well, there would be someone else.
Once he got situated here, he’d find some malleable woman to make his own—not to love, since that boat sailed, but to own.
Mind.
Body.
Soul.
As he opened his laptop, he dialed into his meeting, and on the screen, Shing Reung appeared.
“How are operations going there?” he asked. “I’ve not heard from Fang in two days.”
The man was sweating.
Profusely.
“Mr. Dominik, I haven’t heard from him in two days either. That’s not like him. I’m beginning to think something went down in Boston .”
When he heard that, Alexsandr steepled his fingers in consideration.
“Are our operations up and running in New Orleans ? Like Fang specified?”
He nodded.
“We have businesses in place, and once you land tomorrow, we can make sure to begin funneling in the goods.”
That worked for him.
Why?
It was only a set up.
He knew what the German woman had said. If he showed up in New Orleans , and he began pushing against the mob there, the people who killed his parents would make themselves known.
Then, he’d kill them, and the city would be his.
There were, after all, priorities.
“I need you to do me a favor, Shing.”
The man waited.
“I’m actually landing tonight. I feel like tomorrow is a little too late. As KGB, I trust my gut. Meet me at the warehouse tonight. Let’s say, eight ish?”
Shing nodded.
“Yes, sir. Should I keep trying to reach Fang?”
Honestly, he didn’t care.
Fang was a means to an end, and if someone took out the trash for him, well, then…
He owed them one.
“Have you accessed the warehouse?” he asked, knowing it should be plump with guns, money, and drugs.
“No, Sir. We don’t have access. The woman you were working with on this wouldn’t give us the codes to enter. You’re the only one who can open the doors.”
Good.
That’s what he wanted to hear.
The last thing he wanted was his plans thwarted by anyone trying to destroy his mission in the US.
Elizabeth Blackhawk was a lurker, and likely going to make his life hell at some point.
For now, revenge was on the menu, and he was going to make sure it rocked this pathetic little country.
He loved watching the capitalistic little Americans running around making their ‘dream’ come true when communism was knocking on their doorstep. The dumb ones would accept it immediately, but the rest would be forced into it.
Oh, this country would fall, and Mother Russia would win. Russia was never anyone’s ally—only it’s silent destructor.
“Okay, Shing. I’ll see you at the warehouse. Don’t be late. We have business to work on.”
The man bowed.
“Yes, Sir. We will see you there later.”
When the call went dark, Alexsandr looked around at his traveling companions.
There were five women, and all of them deadly assassins.
Like his Alina had once been.
“When we land, I want three of you to go out, disappear, and embed yourself in the American world. Four, Five, and Six, that’s your mission. Hide in plain sight, and when I need you, we’ll begin taking this country apart, piece by piece. We have lost assets in this country, that Mother Russia wants found and returned. Am I clear?”
They nodded.
“Number Four?” he asked.
She glanced over.
“Da?”
“You know where you need to go, correct?”
She nodded.
Then, she flipped her hair, and giggled.
“California, here I come,” she said, with a perfect English accent.
He focused on the next one.
“Number Five?”
She batted her eyes and grinned.
“I’m heading to DC. I have always wanted to see the US Congress building up close and personal. I’ll find our missing assets.”
He grinned.
Lastly, he stared at Number Six.
“And you?”
She giggled and bounced in her chair.
“I’m heading for New York. I’ve always wanted to be a dumb American oblivious to the world as I bounce around in designer clothes and destroy this cesspool of democracy from the inside out.”
That said it all.
Now, Alexsandr was happy.
It was about to begin.
Oh, they took his family from him.
But Alexsandr knew the truth.
He would take their country.
Piece.
By.
Piece.