Chapter Thirty-One
The Hornet’s Nest
Somwhere over Atlantic Ocean
“Jess, you have a minute?”
Jesse stopped and cursed silently. Now that everyone was safely onboard the plane, his only goal was to make sure Lanie was okay and comfortable. He’d been on his way to her bunk, but that was Gabe’s voice calling to him from the conference room. If it were anyone but Gabe, he’d tell them to fuck off. He wished it were anyone but Gabe. Unfortunately, it was the boss-man and he respected the guy too much. He backtracked to the door and peeked inside.
A few years ago, Tuc had remodeled HORNET’s jet to include several bunkrooms, a prison cell, and this conference room. There was a wide array of technology on the walls meant to help plan missions, and a table that sat ten.
“Have a seat.” Gabe was in his usual spot at the head of the table. He waved a hand, indicating Jesse should sit. A laptop sat in front of him. Harvard must have given it to him—Gabe was good at a lot of things, but technology was not one of them. Not to mention, it had a Star Trek sticker on the back, which certainly wasn’t Gabe’s.
Jesse jerked his thumb over one shoulder. “I was actually on my way to check on Lanie…”
“This won’t take long,” Gabe said.
So much for getting out of this. Not that he really thought the excuse would work, but it had been worth the shot. Steeling himself for whatever was about to go down, Jesse stepped inside and shut the door when Gabe indicated he should. He took off his Stetson and placed it on the table, but didn’t sit down even though his ankle, now in a plastic air cast, was throbbing. “If this is about the field commander position, I already talked to Tuc.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“And we’re discussing your suggestion.” He waved that conversation aside like it was an annoying bug. “That’s not why I called you in here.” He pinned Jesse with his gaze. “You need to stop treating me like I’m going to break.”
Okay, that hadn’t been anywhere on Jesse’s radar for this convo. “W-what?”
“I’m not dead,” Gabe said very evenly, “and I’m not dying anytime soon.”
“With all due respect, boss, you nearly did die.”
Gabe’s jaw tightened, but then he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Yes, I’m aware, but that has nothing to do with why I’m getting out of the field. Audrey’s pregnant, and I intend to be around to help her raise our baby.”
“Oh. Wow. Congratulations.” Now Jesse sat. Or more, collapsed into the chair. It felt a bit like Gabe had dropped a bomb on him. Though he knew Gabe wasn’t taking a dig at his parenting failures, he still couldn’t help but think of how much he’d missed of Connor’s life.
“Thank you,” Gabe said, and the big man all but shone with happiness for a second before he shut it down and slid seamlessly back into badass commander mode. “I’m not taking a step back because I’m broken. I can still do the job.”
“You tire too easily,” Jesse pointed out.
Another slight incline of his head. “You’re right. I’m not at full strength. Yet. My doctor assures me I’ll get there. I’m alive and I’m healing and that’s because of you.”
“No. I didn’t do anything—”
“You think I got lucky?” Gabe interrupted. “That it was a miracle I survived?”
“Yes. By all accounts, you should have died.”
“No, that’s only by your account. You think you did nothing, but everyone I’ve talked to about the hours after I was shot says differently. Including Lanie, and she was right there by your side through the whole thing.”
Jesse said nothing to that. He didn’t know what to say.
Gabe grabbed his cane, pushed back from the table, and stood. He motioned to the computer. “There’s someone here who has been wanting to speak to you for some time.” He limped out, pausing only to squeeze Jesse’s shoulder as he passed. “Whatever you decide, we’re behind you.”
Jesse sat in silence for a whole minute once Gabe was gone, staring at the back of the computer. Finally, a voice with an accent somewhere between British and Indian said, “Hello?”
Jesse got up and walked over. He recognized the thin, spectacled man on the screen—Dr. Jayesh Bhatt, the surgeon who had handled Gabe’s initial surgeries in the UK, and one of the most revered trauma surgeons in the world.
Jesus. He should’ve taken some time to clean up in the last few hours. He still looked like he was in war zone. He tried unsuccessfully to brush down his out of control hair, then took the seat Gabe had vacated. “Dr. Bhatt.”
Bhatt smiled warmly. It creased his cheeks and crinkled his dark eyes behind his glasses. “So you’re the medic who saved Gabe’s life.”
“Oh no. That was your doin’. I just kept him alive long enough to get him to you.”
“No easy feat, given the situation and the damage done. I know of maybe five, ten others with that kind of talent, and most of them are doctors. I can assure you if anyone but you had been on the battlefield with him, he wouldn’t be alive today to share the joyous news of his impending fatherhood. Absolutely no question in my mind.”
“It was luck.” Jesse’s throat tightened and he cleared it. “I’m not as good as you think I am. I lost one of our men today.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“He was shot in the chest by a sniper. Hemopneumothorax. I made the decision to open him up right there, try to clamp the bleed, but once I got in…” He trailed off, remembering the pulpy mess of muscle that should have been Danny’s heart. “His heart was destroyed.”
Bhatt sighed, took off his glasses. “I’m about to tell you the hard truth of medicine, Jesse. One I still struggle with even after nearly thirty years of practicing. You can’t save them all. You’ll lose ones you thought were stable, and you’ll save ones, like Gabe, you thought were not long for this world. If you weren’t able to save your man today, I’m sorry to say there’s likely nobody who could’ve. It’s a hard truth, like I said, but it’s one you need to learn to live with if you want to practice medicine.” He paused and stared into Jesse’s eyes for a beat. “You do want to become a doctor, don’t you?”
Again, his throat tightened, and his heart started banging hard enough to put a rock concert to shame. “More than anything. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I can’t get into med school.”
Bhatt replaced his glasses and sat back. “Are your university marks bad?” His smile said he already knew the answer to that, but Jesse replied anyway.
“No. I worked my ass off in my undergrad classes and rocked the MCAT, but I don’t have an honorable discharge from the Army, and I’ve been to therapy for depression and anger management. Nobody’s willing to take a chance on me with my past.”
Bhatt sat back in his chair. It was evening wherever he was, orange-pink sunlight spilling across his face from a window somewhere off screen. In the background, a call to prayer sounded over loudspeakers.
Bhatt looked toward something to his left, then refocused on the screen. “I won’t be back in London for another week, but when I get home, I’ll send a letter of recommendation to any university in the world. Your choice.”
Jesse half rose from his seat in shock. “Sir?”
Bhatt gave his eye-crinkling smile again. “I’m willing to take a chance on you.”