Fighting the Fire: A Warrior Fight Club Novel Read online

  Dani cradled his other hand in her palm. “Serves you right. I literally don’t care what you’re good at.”

  She didn’t say he wasn’t good, though, and that released a probably ridiculous masculine satisfaction through his blood. Because she knew damn right well that he could suck like a goddamned champ—a champ that had given her two orgasms with his mouth while she was spread out over the bench seat of his truck. Amused despite hacking up a lung, he watched her unwind the length of gauze until he finally regained his breath. “I got skills, D. As you well know. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

  Even the glare she threw him couldn’t quite hide her humor. Or the knowingness in her eyes. “You’ve got a ridiculous ego. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Enjoying the banter, he grinned and met her gaze head on. “Well earned, baby girl. Well. Fucking. Earned.”

  “Call me that again and I’ll punch your other eye, baby boy.” She arched a brow at him. “Hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

  He chuffed out an almost-laugh as the last of the gauze on his left hand fell away, and Sean took a gander at the damage. Someone had taken a cheese grater to the knuckles on the back of his hand, and the cuts stung when he tried to make a fist. Otherwise, his lefty was in decent shape. “And this was with gloves on.”

  “The hit really sent you flying,” she said, unwrapping his other hand.

  Surprised, his gaze cut to her. “You saw it?”

  Without meeting his gaze, she nodded. “Yeah. I was coming to talk to you, but you’d already pulled into the street. So I was at the corner when it happened. I knew he was going to hit you but couldn’t do a goddamn thing.”

  Competing thoughts erupted in Sean’s head. What had she wanted to talk to him about? Was she finally going to give him the dressing down he deserved for how hard he’d hit her? And, wait, she didn’t think she’d helped him? She’d apparently stayed at his request and spent the whole fucking night sitting at his side.

  He inhaled to speak just as she removed the second bandage—and a new doctor knocked on the door jamb.

  “Ah, Mr. Riddick, you’re awake,” the man said, entering the room. “I’m Dr. Nassir.” He did a double take at Dani. “Daniela, you’re not on duty, are you?”

  “No, Sean and I are friends. Either that, or I can’t get enough of being here.”

  The guy chuckled as he washed his hands. Sean examined the chewed-up mess that were the knuckles on his right hand. He guessed he was lucky he hadn’t broken a couple fingers.

  “Hey, Doc. Hope this is okay,” he said, holding up his unbandaged hands. “The gauze was making me crazy because I couldn’t hold anything.”

  The man took a look. “The gauze will help keep the cuts clean. Given how deep some of them are, you might want to give it another day or two. But we can wrap them differently so they’re not so bulky.” The doc stepped closer. “Let’s take a look at the eye while we’re at it, shall we?”

  Sean’s heart tripped over itself. “Yeah.”

  “Do you want me to step out, Sean?” Dani asked.

  No. The quickness and certainty of his reaction was a total gut check. Thing was, they might not get along half the time, but Sean knew for certain that he could count on Dani to tell him the truth, so he didn’t want her going anywhere. He peered around the doctor. “Not at all.”

  Nodding, she came around the other side of the bed, gaze intent on his now even uglier mug.

  Removing the last of the tape, Dr. Nassir pulled the eye shield and gauze away.

  Sean blinked against the light and had two competing reactions. First, his vision was fucking blurry. But, second, he had a sudden flash of clarity that told him it wasn’t anywhere near as blurry as the night before. And, remembering that, he suddenly recalled an image of Dani kneeling on the street and talking to him. Encouraging him. And she thought she hadn’t done anything for him?

  “How is your vision?” the man said, disposing of the bandage.

  Swallowing hard, Sean tried to focus on the man’s name badge. Blurry. “Uh, better than last night, I think, but not all the way clear.”

  The doc nodded in that non-committal way doctors had. “Let me take a look,” he said, reaching for a scope with a light on it.

  Sean was about going crazy by the time the guy was done looking, because he wasn’t saying a thing. “So, what do you think?”

  “Definite improvement. Swelling is going down. I’m cautiously hopeful that your sight will return to normal or close to normal. In the meantime, you need to keep the eye covered to reduce strain and let it rest. I’ll have the nurse come in and take care of your dressings. And I don’t see any reason why we can’t discharge you today.”

  “Can Dani do it?” Sean asked. “The bandages, I mean.” His not-quite-right gaze cut to her. “If you don’t mind.” He didn’t want to be surrounded by false cheer and hopeful platitudes. He wanted Dani’s straight-shooting candor, brutal though it could be.

  “Sure. Yes,” she said.

  “Very good.” The doc nodded. “It’ll probably be a few hours before discharge, but we’ll get things underway.”

  “Thanks,” Sean managed. When the man left, Sean looked to Dani, the question on the tip of his tongue.

  She didn’t make him ask. “It’s very good news, Sean.”

  “‘Close to normal’, though—”

  “Is what he has to say. No doctor is going to promise you’ll be healed until you are.”

  He blew out a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Just then, Patricia returned with a syringe that she inserted into his IV. It took less than a minute for the warm fuzzies to spread over him.

  When they were alone again, Dani leaned in close. “Lay your head back and rest while I go get some supplies.”

  Sean didn’t even try to resist. Two drinks of water, some banter, and an examination by the doctor had left his run-over ass exhausted. And the meds were lulling him to sleep.

  “I’ll be back.” She made for the door.

  “I’ll be here,” he managed, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to face the reality that his sight was fucked up. And might stay that way.

  Chapter Four

  Dani returned to find that Sean’s breakfast had been delivered. Not that he knew since the guy was sound asleep. She settled the bandages on the tray for later and dropped into the chair in the corner. And then she found herself staring at the man who so often drove her freaking nuts.

  It was different seeing him this way. Obviously hurting but putting up a brave front. Understandably scared but trying to make her laugh. In no condition for…anything, but still flirting with her. Her gaze tracked over the curve of stitches that ran under his eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t just lucky that his vision would likely return. As close as that cut ran, it was lucky that he hadn’t lost the eye. Period.

  She retrieved her cell phone and debated whether it was too early to send texts, but came down on the side of thinking everyone would want to be updated. She created a group chat and tapped out a message.

  Hey all. The latest on Sean. Improvement in his eye though still some blurriness. Being discharged in a few hours. Between the vision issues and the chest wall injury, he’s probably going to need some help for the next week. I don’t work until tomorrow morning and I have off on Thursday so I can handle that plus today and tonight. Let me know if you can help.

  Dani hit Send, then dropped her head back against the chair. And wished she’d been able to be there for Anthony this way.

  It was a ridiculous, self-defeating thought, really. She knew it was. Because Anthony had never made it into the emergency room. He’d never laid in a hospital bed so that someone could sit at his side while he slept. Even if she hadn’t been out on a flight run, she never would’ve had the opportunity to do this for him. But no one ever accused guilt of being rational.

  Tangled in thought, Dani twisted the silver feather ring she wore on her right middle finger. Granny had given it to
her for her fifteenth birthday and Dani had rarely taken it off since. On the inside was inscribed the Kiowa word, “MAHYEHN,” which meant “woman.” Dani could still remember how grown up and special she’d felt when she opened the little box.

  She peered out the window, out to where the June sun shined streams of white gold through the dancing jade leaves of a tree. The day had been equally brilliant when she’d lost Anthony, though there wasn’t much green to speak of at Bagram. All these years later, Dani still couldn’t decide if Mother Nature was being cruel or reassuring when the weather was so pretty in the midst of the emotional storm that tore apart her life.

  God, that storm had raged inside her for so long. Long enough that her commanding officer had been forced to tell her she needed a leave of absence. Long enough that she’d finally realized that leave could never be long enough to allow her to do the job as well as she needed. So she’d gotten out of the army.

  Afterward, she’d returned to Oklahoma to live with Nana in her childhood home because she hadn’t known where else to go. But she’d felt detached from everything—from the brother- and sisterhood of the army, from the Kiowa community her granny had been her main connection to before she’d passed. Dani had not only lost a husband; she realized she’d lost so much of herself. Sometimes, that feeling resurfaced even now from how she’d closed herself off to so many things ever since.

  Did you know how much you took with you when you left?

  She’d first read that question in a book about grief, and it had sucker-punched her with the devastating clarity it shined on some of what she’d felt and thus had always stuck with her.

  As had the motto of the grief group she’d gone to for a while: Keep fucking going. She’d been all about that for years now, which was why she had exactly one tattoo: the letters K.F.G. on the inside of her ring finger on her left hand. She’d gotten it the day she finally managed to take off her wedding ring, about eighteen months after Anthony died. Dani had seen it as switching out one promise for another. The promise to survive in exchange for the lives they’d pledged to each other.

  The cell vibrated in her palm, jarring her out of her thoughts. A text from Billy.

  I probably have more flexibility than the rest of you so I’ll cover whatever anyone else can’t.

  Another text followed a minute later, from Mo this time. I can handle evenings or nights any day.

  Dani managed a smile as she read the exchange. This was one of the things that military people did so well—come together no questions asked to take care of one of their own. None of them were active duty anymore, of course, but WFC had brought them together in the same way.

  As a family. A found family.

  Really, the only one Dani had since she’d lost both her parents young, her granny when she’d been in high school, her grandfather just before she’d graduated from the University of Oklahoma, and her nana, the grandmother who raised, her just eight months after Anthony—which was when she’d left Oklahoma and moved to D.C. She would never forget where she came from, but there was nothing left for her there anymore. Nothing but ghosts.

  She’d made friends here among the hospital staff, of course, but she was still closer to some of her WFC friends than she was with anyone else.

  “No!”

  Sean’s shout came out of nowhere. It catapulted Dani’s heart into her throat and nearly made her drop her phone. The coughing fit that followed had him hugging a pillow to his chest as she flew to his side.

  “Hey, you’re okay,” she said, imagining the memory of that truck coming at him was going to trouble his dreams for a while. Poor guy.

  He finally sagged back against the inclined mattress, and for a second he looked a hundred years old. It was the cast of his eyes that gave that impression, and it tugged hard at something inside Dani’s chest. “If you say so, D.”

  When had he ever given in on anything so easily? “I do. Or I’ll kill your stubborn ass.”

  He chuffed out a humorless laugh. “Some of the best love stories start with a murder.”

  The phrase “love story” poked at the part of her brain responsible for her fight or flight reflex. “Uh, dude, your head took quite a hit if you think we’re in a love story.”

  Sean winked, and while the little gesture read as amused, the rest of his face didn’t quite follow. “Relax. It’s from ‘Deadpool’.”

  “How often do you quote that movie and I not realize that’s what you’re doing?” She asked the question because she was curious, but also because she wanted to steer them far, far away from the love story topic.

  “Prolly a lot.” He heaved as deep of a breath as he could, wincing as his lungs expanded. “Would you please get me some water?”

  Did Sean Riddick just say please? Under any other circumstances, she would’ve razzed him for it or suspected him of wanting something. But there was nothing except sincerity in his voice.

  Dani grabbed the cup and brought the straw to his lips. No jokes about sucking this time. No flirting or humor or brave front. It was like that nightmare had exposed all the hurt beneath those masks, and that thought made Dani want to help him. Sean never seemed anything but strong to her. His body, his personality, his bravery. Seeing him vulnerable kinda stole her breath with the wrongness of it.

  So when he was done with his drink, she eased down onto the edge of his mattress, her hip against his. Still, he didn’t meet her gaze. So she cupped the side of his face in her hand.

  That dark gaze cut to meet hers. A wariness settled in alongside the pain he couldn’t quite erase from his features.

  “We got this. You hear me? You, me, all our friends. We’re all going to get you through it.”

  Sean covered her hand with his and pressed his face more tightly to her palm. “Thanks, Daniela. Needed to hear that.”

  “Any time. Now let me get that eye bandaged back up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled and got to work on his eye. “I could get used to that.”

  He managed a more Sean-like smirk. “Prolly shouldn’t.”

  “I know.”

  He was quiet while she patched him up, and then he grasped her hand as she went to pull away. “Thanks, D. I mean it.”

  “Don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me.” Crazy enough, that wasn’t just a line. She knew without question that Sean would give her his own blood if she needed it. He was one of the helpers, as Mr. Rogers called them. It was what her granny had told her when her father had died in that accident. “Look for the helpers. You’ll always find people who are helping.” She’d never seen his television show before that, but she’d become a big fan after, because there was comfort in focusing on those trying to make a bad situation better. It was part of what made her want to become a nurse.

  For a long moment, Sean ducked his chin. “You really believe that?”

  Dani blinked, unable to figure out what he was talking about. Because the obvious topic was just too…impossible. But what else could it be? “Are you asking me if I believe you’d take care of me if I needed it?” He shrugged one big shoulder. It was all she could do to keep the what-the-fuck out of her expression. How could he even wonder? “Dude, just because you drive me batshit sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t know you’re a fundamentally good person.”

  His uninjured eye flashed up to hers again. And there was a question there. Like he was assessing her sincerity. “Okay,” he said, dropping his head back against the pillow.

  Dani wanted to probe this, wanted to push. Had she been so much of a bitch to him that he could question such a thing? Fuck.

  That line of inquiry reminded her that she still owed him an apology. So, yeah, maybe she had. She inhaled to give it to him, but found his eye closed again. And she didn’t know if he was asleep or just closing her out.

  Nor did she know why the latter possibility settled such a big rock of regret in her belly.

  * * *

  Sean was pretty damn close to vomiting hi
s guts all over the place by the time Dani parked behind his rowhouse on 13th Street.

  Every little bump and pothole had been like someone punching him in the chest, and that was to say nothing of what the glare of the bright summer sun and the movement of the car did to his head. Hugging a blanket to his chest that Dani had in her trunk, Sean swallowed down the sour taste of threatening upchuck. “I…think I’ll…just stay right here.”

  “I’m sorry. Let’s get you inside and you’ll feel so much better.”

  “Not your fault, D,” he managed, because the last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for a single solitary thing, not after a twenty-four-hour period that began with him hitting her too hard and ended with her spending the night and all of today in his hospital room looking out for him. Hearing her on the phone with Mo to get him to drop her car at the hospital reminded Sean that she’d even ridden in the ambulance with him, something his brain only had a hazy recollection of. So she had absolutely nothing to apologize for. Jesus, he was the one who should be apologizing given how his trade-mark bad luck had exploded all over whatever her plans for the weekend might’ve been.

  He pushed open his door and tried to hide his grimace at the ridiculous amount of discomfort such a little action created. For fuck sake.

  “Sit still and let me help you.” She rushed out of the car and around to his side, then crouched in his open doorway. “Put your arm around my shoulders.”

  “I can do it,” he said. No way did he want her hauling his ass out of the car. Not that he doubted she was capable of it, especially knowing some of the stories from her days doing tactical critical care evac. Like how, once, her Black Hawk had been shot down, killing the co-pilot and injuring the rest of the personnel on board, including her. Dani had singlehandedly hauled all of them away from the burning wreck and administered medical care with the assistance of another medic who had a broken ankle. And when the crash finally attracted insurgents to their location, she issued covering fire so that the injured medic could continue to treat the others until backup arrived.