23. Barrett
23
BARRETT
It was after five when I got home. Marshall didn’t have to go into work today and said he was going to spend his time painting. He loved sitting in front of the easel and getting lost in his world of colors and shapes, of lines and brushstrokes. Every time I saw him in there, I knew I did the right thing by covering his insurance and giving him whatever he wanted and needed.
The apartment was dark when I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Marshall was probably in his studio with the door shut and no idea when he last ate.
I put my things on the counter, flipped the light on, and went down the hall, but Marshall wasn’t in his studio. A moment of panic washed over me. Did he run out earlier and not come back? Another man had been taken. A bunch of us got chewed out at work today. I couldn’t wait to get my fucking hands on the asshole behind this. At this point, I’d give him to Jordan as a fuck you to the chief.
But Marshall was home. He was curled in a ball on his bed with the lights off.
“Mars?” I whispered before toeing off my shoes and entering his room.
“It hurts,” he whispered, his voice pained.
“Did you take your medicine?”
“No refills. No tablets left.”
I mentally thought back to the last time he saw his doctor. He mentioned something yesterday about having to reschedule an appointment. I didn’t know why and didn’t ask. He was an adult. I trusted him to handle it on his own.
“Were you supposed to go yesterday?” I asked.
His voice was quiet. I hated making him talk, but I couldn’t fix the situation if I didn’t know what was going on. “Yes, they rescheduled because of an emergency the doctor had. I didn’t realize I was out of medicine.” It was an honest mistake. It was also one that cost him.
“Did you take anything?” He could take aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and other over-the-counter medications.
“Didn’t work.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I spun on my heel and exited the room, nearly tripping over my damn shoes. I kicked them across the hall into my bedroom and then walked toward the kitchen. There were ice packs in the freezer, but I had a feeling they weren’t going to touch his pain.
I wondered if I could get him to go with me to urgent care. In the past, he’d just ride the pain out, rather than show up at a place with bright lights and lots of noise.
My hand was on the freezer door when someone buzzed my apartment. Goddammit, I didn’t have time for this.
Stalking over to the door, I pressed the button far harder than I should have. “What?”
“Bear, it’s me. Let me in.”
I didn’t bother responding, just pushed the button and unlocked the door. It was easier letting him up than telling him why he shouldn’t be here. Reghan could see himself inside. I had to take care of my brother.
Grabbing the ice packs from the freezer, I ripped off a couple of paper towels to wrap the ice packs in. The door opened. Reghan must have taken the steps two at a time.
The moment he was inside, his eyes scanned the apartment. “What happened?”
“What?”
“You’re upset. Who hurt you or Marshall?”
“No one.”
Marshall groaned from his room.
“We have to be quiet,” I whispered. “Mars has a migraine.”
Reghan looked at me, at the ice packs in my hands. He closed the door and locked it, removed his boots, shrugged off his coat, then took the ice packs and went up the hall.
“What are you doing?” I whispered as I rushed after him. “Don’t do anything to make it worse. Sound hurts his head and so does light.”
Reghan said nothing as he walked into my brother’s room and crouched next to the bed so he could talk to Marshall.
“Reghan?”
“It’s me. Barrett said you have a migraine.”
He nodded.
“Have you gotten them before?”
“For a long time.”
“Okay. Do you have any medication you can take?”
“He ran out,” I told Reghan. “He was supposed to see his doctor yesterday, but the appointment was moved, and he has no refills.”
“What was it? Pills or an injection?”
“Insurance won’t cover the injections or any of the newer medications. They’re making him try all the cheaper shit first.”
“Assholes,” Reghan bit out. “Where does it hurt?” he asked my brother.
“My eyes.”
Reghan lifted the ice packs and told Marshall to slowly roll to his back. Once he did, Reghan laid the ice packs gently on his eyes. It was then everything clicked into place. Reghan knew what Marshall could be taking. He knew to ask where the pain was.
“The weather’s fine,” Reghan muttered. “The barometer didn’t drop. Did you eat something different? Maybe a trigger food?”
“Trigger food?”
“There are certain foods that can make migraines terrible. Ones with preservatives in them, like nitrates. Think of bacon, lunch meat, and other stuff.”
“None of that.”
“Okay, what about nuts? Did you eat anything with peanut butter or hazelnuts? Maybe seeds or aged cheese? Certain fruit can do it too.” Either Reghan knew someone who suffered, or he did himself because there was no way he’d known to ask otherwise.
“Someone at work gave me peanut butter cookies and I ate them this afternoon.”
“More than you’d usually eat?”
He nodded.
“That could have done it, but there’s no way to know for sure unless you keep a food diary. What have you taken?”
Marshall told him.
“I’m going to make a call. Try to stay still and keep the ice packs there.” Reghan stood and walked to the door, pulling me along with him so he could take the handle and close it almost all the way.
When we were in the living room, I asked, “How?”
“One sec.” He lifted his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and put it to his ear. It was so quiet in the apartment that I could hear the person answer.
“What’s wrong?” a man asked.
“Nothing to get worked up over. Are you done for the day? I need help with a friend.”
There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “What kind of damage?”
“Not like that. He’s got a severe migraine and is out of medication, no refills.”
“You’re lucky you caught me when you did. I’m supposed to be heading into the other side of the city for dinner.”
“Thank you.”
“Text me the address.” The call disconnected.
“Who was that?” I asked. “And are they a doctor or just pretending to be one?” There was no way I wanted one of Jordan’s guys treating Marshall with random pills.
“Alton. He’s a doctor and a damn good one. He treats my migraines and is the doctor for Jordan’s guards.”
“You just call him, and he comes? This isn’t for Jordan.” I didn’t know why I said that. I was grateful someone was on their way here to help my brother. Usually, when his pain was bad, he’d take his medication, and it would at least usually take the worse part of the edge off. I had no way to help him now except home remedies, which weren’t great. The majority of them didn’t work.
“If it was for Jordan, he would have fucking run. Alton knows we don’t call him unless it’s urgent, and I wouldn’t have done so had I been able to help. I don’t know your brother’s medical history, what he can and can’t take, and didn’t want to give him one of my own pills. I could have gone home to get them, but what if he’s allergic? I’d rather play it safe and call Alton.”
“You could have asked me.”
“You’re a doctor now?”
“No, but he’s my brother.” My hands tucked into my pockets then I pulled them out. I started worrying my thumb, hating my brother was in pain and there was nothing I could do. Did I know Marshall’s medical history? I didn’t go into the room with him to his appointments. He didn’t have drug allergies. That I knew for certain. “You have migraines?”
“For years, but I’m better thanks to Alton and the medication he prescribes.”
“I bet Jordan has a hell of an insurance plan.”
“He does but even if he didn’t, he’d pay for whatever we needed. Most people will never see the other side of him, the one he hides except to a select few, but he does take care of those who work for him, especially the ones guarding him and his family.”
“You don’t have to defend him. I’ve seen how much he cares about Vail and Hartley. I just didn’t know you had migraines.” In fact, I didn’t know a whole lot about him.
Reghan brought his hand to the back of my neck and pressed our foreheads together. “Wipe that look from your face. We have plenty of time to discover everything about each other. I’ll even tell you all about my medical history, if you want. I’m in this, Bear. I have nothing to hide.”
“Maybe some bodies,” I mumbled, wanting to lighten the mood and remove the pit of worry from my stomach.
He chuckled. “Sure. Bodies. Why don’t you sit with your brother and tell him the doctor’s on his way.”
“Tell him I’ll pay him. I really appreciate him coming out here.” I’d have to dip into my savings account because there was no way a doctor of Jordan’s making a house call was going to be the same as Marshall paying a twenty-dollar co-pay to see his regular physician.
“Go.”
I sat on the floor in Marshall’s room and told him about Alton and that he was on his way. I hadn’t met the man before, but I boiled it down to the fact he probably only showed up when someone was gravely hurt. Had he been there for some of Reghan’s injuries? Did he stitch him up?
It wasn’t long before I heard the apartment door open. Reghan must have gone down to meet him, so he didn’t buzz the door. They entered the room, Reghan first, his eyes meeting mine before he moved out of the way for Alton to see Marshall, as I stood and made room.
The doctor wasn’t as tall or nearly as broad as Reghan, but I could tell he wasn’t a weak man. He couldn’t be if he had to clean and stitch up Jordan’s men.
“Marshall, my name is Alton Keeley. I’m going to help you, okay?”
“Thank you,” my brother whispered.
“No thanks are necessary. I don’t want anyone to be in pain.”
They talked quietly, but I tuned them out in favor of watching Reghan and the way he stood on the opposite side of the bed with his arms crossed. It was as if he was protecting my brother. My heart beat a little faster at that. I’d previously thought Reghan would look after Marshall if I needed him to, but now I was seeing it in real-time.
When Alton went to touch Marshall to examine him, Reghan fucking growled.
Alton raised his head to look at Reghan, and then his eyes drifted to mine. “I see. I’m not going to hurt him, Reghan. You don’t have this reaction when I examine your brother.”
“Raiden can handle himself.”
“I can too,” Marshall said weakly.
I went to Reghan and wrapped my hand around his bicep, pulling his arms apart and tugging him away from the bed. “Let the man work.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Alton said.
My eyebrows went up. “You know who I am?”
He chuckled. “I’ve been the doctor to Jordan’s staff for years. I hear a lot of gossip, especially between Reghan and Raiden. So yes, I know who you are.”
“Isn’t there doctor confidentiality or some shit?” I asked.
Alton chuckled before focusing on my brother again.