Chapter Sixteen: Gabriel
I burst in through the back door after hearing the screams from inside the bar. It was a male's voice, deep, low, and angry. Even though I didn't hear Lynette’s voice, I knew she was in there. Where else would she be?
To my horror, I saw Lynette on the floor, her hand covered in blood. A tall, burly man stood over her with clenched fists. He had his back to me and didn't acknowledge my presence.
I grabbed the man’s shoulder, dragging him away from Lynette and as he whirled around, I punched him hard in the face. He grunted and swung his arm at me, but missed. I planted another punch on his cheek, knocking him to the floor. I leaned over him, preparing to beat him to a bloody pulp for hurting her.
I glanced over at Lynette and the terrified expression on her face made me realize that I must have the look in my eyes that my unit jokingly called Gabriel’s beast mode.
My eyes would darken to a point where they almost seemed black in color, and a snarl would be on my lips like an animal attacking, protecting its own. Nothing could snap me out of that mode, except for rendering me unconscious.
But now, right at that moment, there was something else that brought me out of that mode.
The look on Lynette’s face.
She wasn't only terrified of her attacker, but now she was terrified of me. I saw it in her eyes, and it snapped me right out of it.
“Gabriel, stop,” I heard her yell.
When I hesitated, she threw her whole body against me full-force to shove me away from him.
“Please, don’t,” she whispered, her voice small and strained.
When the attacker groaned and pushed himself off the floor, I shielded her with my body. I could feel her trembling against me.
“Get out of here, you piece of shit, or I’ll call the cops,” I yelled at the man, who was now on his feet.
“No, Gabriel. Don't! That's my Dad,” she said.
My eyes widened in surprise.
“What?”
She ignored me but stayed behind me for protection. I felt warm blood against the back of my shirt, seeping through the thin fabric.
“Just go, Dad!”
The man looked at me and then spit on the floor at our feet.
“You're just like your brother,” he said to her. “Not worth a shit.”
I tensed up and felt like punching him again. How dare he say such a thing. Terry was a million times the man he would ever be.
I felt Lynette’s arm against mine and she whispered, “No, don't. Please just don't. I'm fine, it’s fine.”
Her father stomped out of the bar, the sound of glass crunching under his feet. My rage only grew. I couldn't believe that she would allow him to beat her like that and then let him leave, like it was nothing.
I let out a breath and turned to her. He eyes were wide and terrified. I put my arms around her.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered as I looked at her hand. “You’re hurt.”
“Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Are you okay? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Maine. I'm sorry about pulling you off him,” she rambled, some of it was completely inaudible. “How did you get here so fast?”
She was in shock, and judging by the blood all around us, she might pass out from blood loss at any given moment.
“Lynette! Look at your hand! You’re not fine. I was worried about you so I caught a flight down tonight.”
She glanced absentmindedly at her hand and frowned.
“Oh, damn. Look at that. I didn’t realize the cut was so deep.”
Clearly she was light-headed. I needed to get her to the hospital.
“Can you walk?”
“Sure,” she answered and then swayed against me.
She seemed fine, but I knew it might not last long. Not with the amount of blood flowing from her hand.
“I hurt myself,” she said as she looked at her hand again and then looked at me. “Where's your cane?”
I shook my head and slid my arm around her waist to hold her up.
“We have to get you to the hospital. I think you're in shock.”
“No! I'm okay. See?”
She broke away from me and walked to the kitchen with quick strides, knowing I couldn't keep up. I followed her, and the trail of blood that she left behind.
Suddenly and without warning the smell of blood threw me back in time.
A scene of war suddenly flashed in front of my eyes and I was reminded of the accident again. The blood trickling down the dusty hill. The screams of my injured unit. The searing pain in my legs. The hot tears that stung my eyes as I held Terry’s lifeless body in my arms before everything else went black.
I blinked the memory away and hurried into the kitchen. Lynette stood by the freezer, with a towel wrapped around her hand.
I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror and frowned. My face was pale and my eyes were full of worry. I’d managed to locate my cane on the floor and leaned heavily against it.
She smiled weakly, “See, nothing to worry about.”
I walked over to her and touched her face, but she flinched away as soon as my skin touched her bruised cheek.
“He hit you,” I choked out in a strained voice.
The rage filled me up again.
“Baby, please don't. I'm fine. I want... I need you to not get upset. Just sit down.”
My fingertips searched her face, tracing the line of the bruise.
“I'm calling 911 and reporting this to the police. Then we’re taking you to the emergency room.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“I can't afford it.”
I glanced at her and frowned again. The blood had already soaked through the dish towel and I shook my head.
“Then I'll pay for it, but you have to go.”
“Gabriel, I told you. Please don’t force me. I feel bad enough as it is. Let’s see if we can stop the bleeding.”
“Just stop, okay,” I shouted at her, and it startled her, but I didn't care. “You are hurt bad and I need to get you to someone that can help you. You need stitches and I’m not a doctor.”
“Don't yell at me,” she shouted back and I immediately regretted it.
Her expression softened, and mine did as well. My anger wasn't directed towards her. I just wanted her to get taken care of. Her hand was in bad shape, and I needed her to know that.
“I'm so sorry,” she whispered.
“Come on. I don't care how mad you get at me or if you never speak to me again. I’m not budging on this. You are going to the hospital, I’m paying for it, and I don’t want to hear even the slightest bit of resistance from you right now. Got it?”
Her bottom lip trembled and I ran my finger over it.
“Okay?” I asked.
She nodded reluctantly.
“Okay,” I said and grabbed her arm. “Now can you walk?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Let’s go to the car.”
I half-dragged her out of the bar and was grateful she could still muster up the energy to walk, because I couldn't carry her. The knowledge was like a punch to my gut. I pulled out my car keys, unlocked the doors and settled her into the passenger seat.
The Kia I’d rented this time was much smaller than the Audi, but it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that I rush her to the hospital as fast as I could.
“What happened to the fancy car?” she asked in a daze as I slid stiffly into the driver’s seat.
“You’re worried about the Audi?” I asked, exasperated.
“I was just wondering,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the window.
“Don’t go to sleep,” I said. “You need to tell me where to go. Where’s the hospital?”
“It's cold in here,” she said, shivering.
I grabbed my jacket from the backseat and draped it over her.
“You’re going into shock. It’s at least ninety-six degrees in here. Where’s the closest emergency room?” I asked again.
She looked at me blankly.
“Shit!”
I pulled out my phone and searched for the nearest hospital.
“Wait...”
“What?”
“I can’t afford it.”
“Not that again. I told you I’ll pay for it.”
My gaze lingered on the blood-soaked towel and my jaw clenched. I touched the screen on the phone and placed it on the dashboard.
“Either you tell me how to get there or the phone will.”
She looked at me in defeat and motioned behind me.
“It's that way. The closer one. It's like ten miles away. You have to get on the highway.”
“Thank you.”
I kept talking to her, asking questions, forcing her responses, as we were taught in the Army. It was a natural response for me, which was tragic in the sense that I had done it so many times before. I drove on the verge of speeding, although panic crept into every move I made.
I could sense it and I pushed it down.
I wanted to soothe her, so I reached out and touched her leg, reminding her of my steady presence.
When we arrived, I helped her out of the car, allowing her to lean on me as we walked to the entrance.
“Wait,” she said softly.
“Seriously, Lynette? We’re already here,” I said impatiently.
Damn, she was being unbelievably stubborn.
“When we get inside and they ask what happened, don't tell them the truth. Tell them I fell and cut my hand on the bottle. Don't tell them about Dad.”
“What about your face?” I reminded her. “Did you fall and bruise your eye at the same time? They’re going to think I did this to you.”
“If you tell them, they'll arrest him. Please. Don't say anything. Please,” she begged.
I let my fingers trail down her arm and captured her hand.
“I promise you, I will let you do the talking, But you need to come with me, right now. No more stalling from you. Enough already.”