4. Crusher
Chapter 4
Crusher
“I’m looking for Westin Cross?” I ask the woman at the nurse’s station.
“I’m sorry?” she asks, sounding surprised.
“I was told my brother was in here, Westin Cross?”
She frowns. “Let me double check,” she says. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a man listed by that name,” she says looking up from her papers.
“What in the ever-loving fuck?” Gunner growls. “If we came all the way here and Diesel is not here, I’ll hunt down that McDaniels chick on my own,” he growls, not bothering to be quiet about it.
“McDaniels?”
“Yes, Rory McDaniels, she’s the one that called me. Do you know her?”
“Give me a moment please,” she whispers, her face changing. She turns away, looking at us over her shoulder and goes to a doctor who is standing there looking at a chart. I watch as they whisper amongst themselves.
“What the hell do you think is going on?” Fury asks me. I frown.
“Fuck if I know, but something is,” I mutter, as the doctor nods to the nurse and then walks over to us.
“I understand that you were sent here looking for a family member?”
“Yeah, and for some damn reason I feel like something is going on that I’m not a party to,” I tell the doctor.
“Can I have your name please?”
“Alexander Dawson,” I growl, even more confused.
“Your brother, do you happen to have his birthdate?”
“Doctor—”
“Birtley. My name is Dr. Birtley.”
“Fine, Dr. Birtley , I think it’s about time you tell me what’s going on.”
“I need you to confirm your brother’s birthdate and I know this is unorthodox, but do you have a picture ID for Mr. Cross?”
“What in the fuck?” Fury growls.
“His birthday is in February,” I tell him. He looks at me still waiting and I resist the urge to reach out and grab him by the throat and choke him if he doesn’t let me see Diesel— barely .
“The day?” he asks.
“Jesus,” Gunner growls.
“The fourteenth,” I mutter, knowing only because once upon a time, before time and women fucked my boy, he used to say that being born on Valentine’s Day was why all the women loved him. He was a different man back then.
I miss him.
This Rory chick must be some fucking woman for him to trust her.
“And do you have something to show that you know uh… Mr. Cross?”
“Doc, you’re going to have to start explaining shit and soon,” Fury growls.
“I need to make sure you all know my patient,” he says, not even blinking at Fury. Fury is big and mean looking. Hell, most people go out of their way to avoid him, let alone the four of us together. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d be impressed by the doctor’s cojones.
“Fuck,” I growl.
“I have a picture in my billfold of the four of us, will that work?” Gunner asks.
“What the fuck are you doing with a picture?” I ask, surprised. “Have you turned into Mr. Hallmark?”
“I kept a snapshot of us and Devil when I got my new cut. I learned the hard way to hold onto the good times,” Gunner says, the ghosts he carries close to the surface in his eyes. Brother almost lost himself during his last stent in the military and sometimes it really shows. “Is this good enough, Doc?” he asks, once he gets his billfold out. He reaches over to the doctor, showing him the snapshot. The doctor stares at it closely. Then he nods.
“We don’t have a Westin Cross listed as a patient here,” he says, taking a step away.
“What the fuck? You made us jump through hoops to just tell us he’s not a patient here?” Fury growls, advancing a step on the doctor. Gunner shifts in front of him, and I do too. The doctor doesn’t know what danger he’s courting. There’s a reason my brother has the road name Fury.
“As I was saying,” the doctor begins, standing his ground—and therefore, impressing me more. “We don’t have a Westin Cross. We do however have a John McDaniels here.”
“Come again?” I ask, not sure what was going on, but getting the doctor was telling me something— without actually telling me.
“We have a patient here in ICU that was left for dead. He’s been here for quite some time. We had him listed as a John Doe.”
“Doc, I’m not comprehending?—”
“And then we were contacted by an Agent Lodge with the FBI.”
“Doc…”
“He was calling for a Rory McDaniels.”
“Fuck,” I growl.
“I take it that name means something to you,” the doctor says.
“It’s starting to.”
“We were told to give no one information on Mr. McDaniels—although I guess that would be Mr. Cross—until his family contacted us—if they did.”
“Son of a bitch ,” Fury growled. “What did Diesel say about this shit?” he adds.
“Diesel?”
“The fucking man you’ve got hidden from us,” Fury growls, his patience—which he doesn’t really have in the first place—gone.
“Uh… He didn’t say anything. I don’t think you have a grasp on the situation here,” the doctor says, starting to look a little panicked. That’s nothing unheard of though. Fury can be a scary motherfucker.
“You need to start talking, Doc,” I growl.
“Perhaps it’s best if I show you,” he says. The four of us look at each other and then we take the doctor’s lead and let him lead us through the corridor that has rooms with glass doors pulled on them. There are curtains hiding the beds, and therefore the glass doors are useless—you can see nothing. We walk in, and each of us are bracing. You don’t live the lives we do and not prepare when you walk into a room blindly.
The doctor pulls the curtain back and I wasn’t ready. Even having braced myself…
I wasn’t fucking ready.
Diesel is lying in the bed, he’s lost weight, his face gaunt, his skin pale. His eyes fucking closed and he’s breathing through a fucking tube.
Through. A. Fucking. Tube.
“What in the hell is going on here?” I growl, those words feeling as if they are torn from my gut and as they tear they leave a wound that might never heal. “We were told our brother had been in a coma for a few weeks and was fine!”
“But… I’m sorry. Mr. Cross has been in a coma for almost four months. In fact, we were about ready to unhook him when we received the call from Agent Lodge. Mr. Cross is a witness in a federal crime and because of that they asked us to keep the treatment going until his family contacted him. They’ve requested to speak to you when that time came.”
Motherfucker.
“I don’t care what it takes or what it costs. You do not unhook him,” I growl. “I want to talk to Rory McDaniels now!” I demand, barking my order in a way that I dare the fucker to argue with me. “And tell her she better be sure she brings Diesel’s son with her!”
“But, Mr. Dawson, I don’t think you understand.”
“Understand what?” I demand, unable to tear my eyes away from my brother.
“I’ve never met Ms. McDaniels. She’s never been here and I don’t know anything about the patient’s son.”
“Motherfucker!” Fury yells, and for once I’m feeling as much anger boiling up inside of me as he is.