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“As touched as I am that I still look so young, dumb, and naive, I’ve far surpassed my youthful brilliance. You should see the shit I get to poke inside of now.” She blushes.
“Aww, so now it’s geriatric insanity. Well, as long as I don’t have to wipe your ass and change your diapers.” I joke.
“Touché.” She chuckles, “But what a fine ass it would be to wipe.” She winks.
Chapter 6
Julian
"Medically Discharged," I repeat. "What the fuck does that mean?” I glance down at myself. I’m alive and can function and move. There is no way!
"It means you lost full range of motion in your dominant shoulder. After you took two bullets," Mick, my Colonel, deadpans.
I look down at my right hand, which is now in a sling. “I just need some time,” I grunt.
Then I do something stupid. It’s not a usual offense. I try to flex my muscles. Searing pain rips through my shoulder.
It will heal; that’s what the doctor said, but as Mick has stated, I’m done. Lost full motion. The force of the bullet ricocheted like vomit upchucked at a cheap fair; the force of impact busted up my collarbone, too. That hurts more than the bullets.
After so many years of climbing through the ranks to become a Lieutenant in Delta Force, I was on the verge of making Major. I closed my eyes, wishing it all to be just a bad dream.
"Yeah, and I need a long holiday and an endless bank account…oh wait, you have both boxes checked now." Mick crosses his arms. "This isn’t the end, Julian. You still get to have your hand in the pot. Heck, your family designs the toy boxes. You’ll get firsthand access."
"I don’t want to work for my dad," I grumble.
I sound like a spoiled rich child. The exact image I have been trying to fight.
Mick shrugs, "Tough shit. Daddy’s on his way over here as we speak along with your uncle."
"What the hell, Mick! This is a black site hospital."
There’s that spoiled child again, rearing his spoiled head.
“Yeah, and your daddy’s holding a billion-dollar contract with our government and has friends in such high places that he can get clearance to fly his private jet anytime he wants. Oh, and did you not hear when I said your uncle was with him.” He strides forward and leans against my bed.
"Stop saying Daddy," I snarl. My muscles flex on pure instinct, causing me to hiss again. I took the pain meds, but I don't want to take more. I need all my senses alert; that's how I've been trained. If you are hurting, suck it up and move on. As if my dad wasn't bad enough, my uncle serves as the Director of the CIA. They are both going to lay into me for getting shot.
What shocked me was that I wasn’t on a mission. I was on base when we were attacked. I just never imagined my career would be ended this way.
Don't get me wrong, I'm relieved I was the only one who got banged up, but it shouldn't have gone down like this in the first place. It's a colossal clusterfuck that has Mick stuck in mountains of paperwork as well as a huge investigation.
Mick tips his head back and laughs. "What’s so bad about a nice title, an office with AC and safety?"
"It’s not what I want."
Mick sighs, "You know what’s messed up? Those of us who have a death wish are never granted it. Those who want to get in and out get the short stick." He slaps my back, "You’ll always be my brother, and as your Colonel, I’m telling you to take this opportunity and live. It’s what we fight for. Take advantage of it. This pouting nonsense isn’t you. You always confront everything head-on. You don’t mess around or run from the problem. Confront your new future and beat the fuck out of it; make it your bitch. Work for your dad, or get a contracting job, go live on a beach, and enjoy it." He crosses his tattoo-covered arms, "Meanwhile, I’ll continue getting my ass chewed out and will be lucky enough to have enough money saved by the time I retire." He bites.
Mick has two ex-wives, and he’s still paying almost his whole paycheck.
As I part my lips, I hear the distinct voice of my younger brother Kent shouting from down the hall. It’s like shards of glass cutting my ears. I know he’s going to bust my butt for ending up in this situation. After all, I promised him I would return. It was a promise I could never guarantee in my line of work. Whenever I spoke the false vow, Kent would nod, but I saw the anxiety in his hazel eyes. Our mother's eyes.
"I don’t give a shit, Nurse Betty; I’m walking through that door,” Kent shouts.
"That’s it; I’m calling security." Nurse Betty snaps.
Nurse Betty is actually Nurse John. Who, I take it, didn’t like the reference.
The curtain to my room is ripped open with such force it pulls off the track. A moment later, the track itself breaks from the ceiling and is now hanging on by just four screws.
