Mute

He lives!

        He passed out and Sam couldn’t believe what happened. She slipped her hand from his, his knuckles rapping on the floor next to the bed, and felt of her lips where he kissed her. Surely he didn’t mean that. It was just because he was hurt, it had to be. She glanced up over her shoulder to her father who leaned against the door frame, he just smiled and shrugged.

        She went to stand next to her father in the door, the old man picked up his old medical bag and some rope with a sigh.

        ‘Why rope?’

        “I don’t want him thrashing around when he wakes up while I am working on him. I have to honey bear, as soon as I’m done we will let him lose. It is going to hurt.”

        ‘Okay. Please help him daddy.’

        “You like him don’t you?” she nodded, “for you I will do my best.”

        Not long later she heard a roaring curse. Words she never knew existed were making the whole house shake. Her face turned so red she could feel her ears turning red too. There was a lot of banging and clanging and crashing sounds for what seemed forever. Then it was suddenly quiet. Should she go check on them?

        “Sam. Come here please.” She heard her father call out to her. Slowly she opened the door. Her father was gathering all the bloody sheets and towels, shoving his medical bag aside with his foot. Jace wasn’t moving. Her stomach felt heavy with dread at how pale he was.

        ‘Did he die?’ Her hands shook as she asked. Her eyes darted between her father’s face and Jace’s still body. Please be okay, please?

        “No honey he didn’t. He lost a lot of blood, he passed out. He needs to be still and rest. I need you to watch him a while, make sure he doesn’t run a fever. Don’t untie him just yet.”

        She nodded, and sat on her knees near his head. She gently laid her hand against his forehead, he was still cool. He moaned and scrunched his eyebrows, she managed a ssh sounds and smoothed her fingers over his forehead. He settled after a minute, she took the guilty pleasure of running her hair through his burnt copper hair.

        She glanced up at his wrists, the rope looked strained bad, his wrists were red with the rope burns. She rose up from the floor slightly and placed a gentle kiss on his right wrist, hoping to soothe the pain. She let her eyes travel down his right arm, admiring the full sleeve of tattoos. Colors abounded, black framed it all drawing out skulls and flames and so many other things.

        The tattoos continued down across his shoulder a fairly large sized symbol center of his chest. A skull and cross bones with the number one behind it, what in the world did that mean? The two bullet wounds were just left of his spine, missing his ribs, the bandages covering them snugly.

        Her father appeared in the doorway a few hours later, he walked over and felt of Jace’s forehead. “No fever Honey bear, that’s good.”

        ‘Daddy,' she pointed to the skull and cross bones tattoo, ‘what is this? Is he in a gang?’

        Her father chuckled, “oh it’s a gang all right. That tattoo means that he was in the First Recon Platoon, Honey Bear. He is a marine.”

        ‘Military like you?’ Her father nodded, she smiled. That made sense. All she had seen from him so far was tough talk and oddly out of place courtesy. Her daddy could be that way too.

------Next morning--------

        Jace held his head as he sat up off the bed. He threw his legs off the side and braced against his knees as he held his temples. The world around him was still spinning but not nearly as bad as before.  Why the hell did his wrists and ankles hurt like sin, where had the rope burns come from? He looked up and saw the bathroom door standing open, he staggered the few steps and grimaced when he flipped the light on. He gripped the sink bowl and leaned closer to the mirror to survey the damage.

        The cuts and scrapes, even the black eye he expected from the accident. But just at his hair line over his left temple was the curve of a horse shoe imprint. “Thanks a lot Jack.” He grumbled. He sighed as he shuffled over to the toilet, how long did he sleep? His bladder was busting. Standing there with his c**k in hand his thoughts went to a dark haired beauty with silent lips. He sighed and leaned back as he urinated, his eyes drifting closed. There in the dark, as soon as his eyes sealed the darkness in and the light out, he could see bottomless Blue eyes and eyelashes as thick as the black hair falling around them.

        Whoa. He gasped as he opened his eyes, the sudden shock made him stumble back against the wall no more than a foot or two away. The blue eyes contrasted the black safe haven like a neon sign. Every time he closed his eyes, they were there. What the hell?

        He would have made use of his exposed c**k if he wasn’t still feeling rough. He put it away, maybe he’d go roll in the hay with her when he was better. He staggered back to the bed, looking down at his boots. Screw it, he wasn’t about to bend over for that. He shuffled on out the door and almost took a header down the stairs when he stepped on his pant leg. Sam met him at the foot of the steps, helping slow him down before he wiped out at the bottom.

        ‘You should be resting.’ She said.

        “I need my phone. Where did it go?” He asked, he was too tired to sign at the moment.

        She sat him at the kitchen table, seating him before she went to the counter. He groaned as he forced his back to straighten against the seat back, but immediately slumped forward again in defeat. She picked up his phone and unplugged it from the charger. She brought it to him, 'do you need something to eat?’

        “Don’t do something just for me. I can wait till dinner time.” He saw the time on his phone. “I slept for almost two days?”

        ‘You had a lot of trauma, mostly your body. But you were hit on the head. Motorcycles were dangerous without a helmet.’ There really was something mesmerizing watching her sign, they weren’t any signs he didn’t know but just to watch her talk with her hands sent a chill of excitement through him.

        “I usually do. Didn’t have time for it then.” He cleared his throat as he forced his gaze away from her to focus again on his phone. She quickly had a glass of water and sat it before him. “Thanks, Sam.”

        ‘Daddy took out the bullets, and stitched you up. But you should take it easy. You lost a lot of blood.’ She motioned to the glass, 'hydration helps the body replace blood. Please drink.’ He nodded, taking a long slow drink and sat the glass down again, she smiled.

        He watched her turn away out of the corner of his eye as he unlocked his phone. How his hands ached to fold around the curve of her ass in those jeans. He dialed a number, lazily holding it to his ear “yeah, boss. It’s me.”

        “Damn son, I was beginning to worry about you. Are you all right? What about this guy King? Can he be trusted?” his boss eased back into his office chair in relief at the sound of his friends voice. He let out a huge sigh of relief.

        “Yeah. He and his daughter, they pulled me from the wreckage and brought me to their place. They have been taking care of me.”

        “Yeah, king said he’d been a medic in Vietnam. So you will live?”

        “I guess so. I got a pretty good nurse.” He felt of his sore chest, “any intel I need to know? I don’t want what came after me to come after them.”

        “We are looking, haven’t seen anything yet. You stay put as long as you can to heal up to be on the safe side.”

        “Got it boss.” He hung up and let his phone skitter to the table. “Sam.” He felt her palm against his shoulder blade. “I got to talk to your dad.” She nodded and slipped out the back door.