Page 47 of Call Sign: King
“He was… yes. Once I got Tank’s heart going, I turned him over to the arriving EMTs and started working on Trevor next. A second ambulance crew arrived with a defibrillator, and we were able to get a super weak pulse, but he’d lost so much blood by that point, I just don’t see how he’s gonna make it.”
For a moment, it felt like an earthquake was shaking the hospital. Seconds later, Ryder realized the room was spinning. He stumbled forward, grasping the railing of the hospital bed for support to keep from face planting onto the white tile of the ER.
Air. He couldn’t catch his breath. Panic closed in. He was going to pass out.
What a pussy you are, Helms. You never deserved her anyway.
Guilt. Failure. Fear. Rage. Sorrow.
The potent cocktail of emotions had replaced his own blood and was now coursing through his body, filling every nook and cranny of his soul until all he could do was stifle the low growl of despair in his throat.
Spinning on his heel, Ryder pushed his body into motion, rushing toward the exit. He needed fresh air. He needed time alone to get his fucking head on straight.
He needed to curl up and die.
Over the years, he’d faced his own mortality many times after being beaten, stabbed, and even shot in the line of duty. Yet never had he flung open his arms to welcome death as he longed to do in that moment.
Ryder somehow made it through the maze of corridors, crashing through the exit into the warm summer’s evening air. Gasping to catch his breath, he rushed forward, beelining it to collapse on a nearby wooden bench. Hanging his head low between his knees, he forced deep breaths in an attempt to refill his depleted oxygen level.
As reality returned, it brought the paralyzing fear back with it. He had always been the answer man. A leader — cool under pressure — able to formulate complex plans on the fly. How ironic that when he needed those skills more than at any other time in his life, it felt as if they’d fled, leaving him lost and broken, sitting alone on a random bench outside a hospital in Toronto, Canada.
How had he gotten here?
He’d fallen in love. The second he’d met his wife, his life had been irrevocably changed. His once cold heart had fallen prey to the blinding light of Khloe Monroe. He’d felt warmer just being in her presence, soaking in her joy… her goodness… her beauty. He’d let that love soften him… invade him… change him.
Axel’s words came back to him in that moment, and he knew there was only one way he’d get through the hell he’d been thrown into and that was to cast off the cloak of softness he’d donned since falling in love and embrace the fury he felt bubbling up inside.
He may not know exactly who yet, but from this moment forward, he had a new life’s mission. He would find those responsible for this attack on the people he loved and he would make them regret ever knowing him.
But first, he had a phone call to make. A call he couldn’t ask anyone else to make for him.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Ryder opened his contact list and pressed send on his call before he could chicken out.
“Hi! What a great surprise. I was just trying to reach Trevor. I’m guessing he’s with you.”
Madison McLean’s voice was so joyful he almost hung up. He knew these last few seconds before he spoke might be her last happy moments in a very long time.
“Ryder?” she asked, a crack of concern seeping into her tone.
“Madison…” he said, his voice quavering.
“No…” she spat, knowing him so well she’d already started to put things together. “No. No. No,” she spoke adamantly as if she could scare bad news away with the two-letter word.
His mind raced, searching for the right words, but there were no right words. Not for something as fucked up as what had happened that day.
Just spit it out, Helms.
“The team was ambushed in their suite by someone posing as hotel security. Four men were shot, along with the assailant. Trevor was one of them. He is in surgery now at Toronto General Hospital. You need to charter a plane and get here as soon as possible.”
“Surgery? It’s that serious?” she cried into the phone.
Oh, how he wanted to lie, but that wouldn’t help anything.
“It’s very serious. He’s lost a lot of blood, but you know him. He’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through, it’s Trevor.”
Ryder heard her crying and wished he could be there to hug Trevor’s wife. It was the least he could do for her considering the bodyguard had literally taken a bullet for his own wife.
“You said four men. That must mean at least Khloe is safe, right?” she asked.
