5. Cas
5
Cas
M y shoulders both hurt, one from the wrench and the other from landing on the damned footrest — I was going to take it off after this, more trouble than it was worth — two of my fingernails stung, and worst of all, my pride was wounded.
I had to credit Rishi, though; he hadn’t said anything about why I hadn’t called for him like I said I would. I could smell the coffee brewing, and I decided that he was probably having a nice cup of it and he didn’t need to come babysit me while I did something I was clearly able to do.
Now, nobody got coffee, and it had smelled good, too.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your coffee,” I said after a few minutes in the car.
Rishi looked over at me quickly, his thick brows drawing together. “What?”
“You were having coffee,” I said. “And you didn’t bring it with.”
“Oh…” Rishi said slowly. “Yes. I was making some iced coffee, actually. I was going to ask you if you would like a glass. But I can make it when we get back.”
I hummed and was silent for the rest of the drive.
The reception at the emergency room was what I was expecting, with a student nurse following the one that was assigned to me eyeing my limb with badly concealed curiosity. Rishi waited outside the curtain, but I made sure to tell them that he didn’t have to go far, as I would like him in the cubicle when I wasn’t actively being examined. If nothing else, he would help pass the time.
Since I had moved into my new place, I found myself growing to like him more and more, with his unshakeable demeanor, impeccable manners, and the matter-of-fact, understated way that he helped me with things that clearly didn’t usually fall under “bodyguard” but he was willing to do anyway. I had told Saint about him, and Saint had chuckled quietly. “Alden Security only employs the best,” he had said, and I could practically hear the doe eyes he was making at Rio, who had been his bodyguard once upon a time, when he said it.
The ER doctor appeared about an hour after I was assigned a room, and Rishi made to step out again, but I shook my head. “May as well stay,” I told him, then nodded to the doctor. “This is my friend, Rishi Rao. He helps me out a lot.”
“Mr. Rao,” the doctor said, barely looking at him as he quickly scanned my chart. He didn’t see the way Rishi had gone wide-eyed for just a second, but I did, and I sent him a quick, warm smile. Rishi blinked several times, and his perfect control melted away long enough to return it briefly before he again schooled his features to his professional face.
“I see you took a tumble in the shower,” the doctor said, laying my chart on the bedside table. “Sore shoulders, head injury, but pupils are normal. No nausea or confusion?”“No,” I replied. “Not even a headache.”
He twisted his mouth a bit, casting his eyes down my body. “How long since your surgery?”
“A little over two months,” I said, wondering where he was going with this.
“And you were showering alone?”
Oh, that’s where he was going. “I have a specially furnished handicap-accessible apartment. Normally, the visiting nurse or Rishi spots me, but I am able to transfer to the shower stool myself. This time, my hand was still wet and slid on the grab bar.” I showed him my torn nails.
The doctor hummed, and I caught Rishi shooting daggers at the back of his head. I had to rub my hand over my mouth to hide the sudden urge to grin that gave me.
“Tell me, Cas, have you fallen before?” He sat himself on the stool and crossed his forearms over his lap, looking at me intently.
“No,” I said slowly. “In fact, between PT and everything, I’m gaining more and more straight, balance, and mobility.”
“Hmm. Well, I think we should probably keep you for observation since it’s not that far out from your amputation, and you did hit your head. I’ll have a nurse come by to get you checked in.” He patted my limb through the blankets, which gave me the sudden desire to bite his hand, and breezed from the room.
Rishi’s expression was flat and blank as I worked my jaw. “Did what just happened really happen?” I asked.
“As in, did a doctor that you met approximately six minutes ago just intimate that you are a danger to yourself and require more care and supervision than you are currently receiving?” Rishi asked.
“Yeah, that.”
Rishi glanced at the door, nodded once as he sucked his teeth. “Yes, I believe that is what happened.”
***
Three hours later, I was in a hospital room in the “short-term stay” wing of the hospital. Rishi sat in the recliner next to the bed on his laptop as I scrolled through Netflix. There wasn’t really anything wrong with me, and I was sure that once morning came, I could go home, but I was still pissed.
I finally settled on a rewatch of the second season, second episode of the BBC version of Sherlock — Rupert Graves with a tan and a gun, um, yes, please — and was rolling my eyes at the queerbaiting when I saw Rishi sit up straight in my peripheral vision. I looked over at him, watching him scroll through something on his computer quickly before he looked at me.
“What is it?” I asked as he stood up and set his computer on the table next to my tablet in its case.
“My colleague, Marcus, just sent me this video. It appears that your old apartment was broken into last night.”
In the somewhat grainy, night-vision-style footage, two men were seen heading up the stairs to my old place. One of them had a backpack, and the other had a coil of something over his shoulder. The angle didn’t let us see my door very well, but it was clear that they managed to open the door and go inside. About two minutes passed, and they were again visible, trotting down the stairs in what appeared to be an agitated manner.
“Holy shit,” I said.
“I presume that Fernandez isn’t aware that you moved,” Rishi said.
I shook my head. “Must not be. It’s not like many people are — my captain, some movers, and you. Well, and Saint and Rio, but they’re sure as hell not going to tell them.” Even my mail went to a post office box, so updating my address wouldn’t give me away. I’d had a PO box since I moved to LA because I was worried about my mail being stolen from an apartment mailbox.
“It looks like they were hoping to take you somewhere for a little chat,” Rishi said, watching the footage again. “Two men, so they could carry you down the stairs and rope to tie you up. I don’t know what’s in that backpack, but probably some kind of weapon. Maybe tape or a gag?”
My nose wrinkled reflexively at the thought of a gag.
“Do you want to forward this to your captain?” Rishi asked. “I can email you the video.”
I nodded. I did want to keep him in the loop. He was aware that I had personal protection, and he had applauded it. He wasn’t completely aware of why I was in danger, but he did know about Fernandez’s threats to Saint and Rio and that the attention had been turned onto me now that Douglas Greene was dead and Elena Fernandez was no longer at True Colors.
My tablet dinged with the email, and I sent it on to my captain, then sighed. “Fuck.” I said, thinking about where I would be right now if I still lived in that apartment. Then I realized that maybe I wouldn’t. Maybe I would be dead. Maybe Rishi would be. That thought made me very uncomfortable. “Are you armed?” I asked suddenly.
“Right now? No. But I do have a weapon,” Rishi said. “I was wondering when you would ask about that.” He smiled at me. “I know that you do, and I know where you keep it.”
I blinked at that revelation, and he smiled again. “Your service revolver is in the lock box in your bedside drawer. Mine is in a fingerprint-accessible gun safe in my backpack. If we were to go out most places, I would wear it, but as your PT comes to you and your doctor appointments occur in buildings that do not allow concealed weapons, I do not wear it.” He glanced sideways before looking at me almost smugly. “I am perfectly capable of defending you without any additional weapons, as well.”
What Rishi was saying suddenly combined with one of my first mental images of him in full tactical gear. My mouth dropped open, and Rishi raised one eyebrow, his lips curving upwards as he watched me flounder. He picked up his computer and sat in the chair again, glancing down before he lifted his chin. “Yes, Casimir, whatever just went through your head, I assure you I am perfectly capable of,” he said, then kicked his feet up on the rail under my bed and returned to his computer while I attempted to remember how to close my mouth.
***
I was hopeful that I would be released the following day when the night passed without incident, but the next morning when a knock came on my door, it wasn’t the doctor.
“Mom!” I said, shock lacing my voice. Rishi had been in the bathroom, and he stepped out quickly as my mother and father crowded into the room.
“Casimir! I knew it would come to this,” my mother scolded, shaking her head. She already had a tissue in one hand, though her eyes were dry. “First you’re shot and— and—” she gestured towards my lower body which was covered by a blanket, “—and now you’ve fallen and couldn’t get up! You’re coming home with us. I let you tell us that you were fine, that you were in a physical rehab place and getting a fake leg —” the words hissed like she was talking about some sort of embarrassing viral condition “—but living alone in an apartment doing who knows what? No. I am putting my foot down.” She dabbed her still-dry eyes. “You’ve always been my wild boy, and look where it’s gotten you.” She shook her head.
“Mom—” I started but was immediately cut off.
“Richie, look at our boy. Look at him. Always wanted to play hero, and this is where it got him. He should have been working with you all this time. Maximilian has been safe and happy in Las Vegas; he has a nice place and a sweet fiancée, and he has both legs. ” Mom shot me a glare.
I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, then I heard the bathroom door click shut sharply. “Casimir has a nice place and, I like to think, a sweet fiancé right here.” Rishi leveled a look so cool and daring at my mother that she took a step back. “As for having two legs, well, I don’t see how that makes Cas any less of a hero.” He raised one eyebrow. “I’ve known heroes who were missing more than that, who would stack up against anyone in Las Vegas.” He came to the bed and took my hand, which I squeezed reflexively, gaping at him. He smiled at me, his eyes so beautifully deep and brown, and I swallowed and smiled back.
There were three or four beats of silence, and then my mother shrieked, “Fiancé??”