Chapter Nine

 

Pain throbbed behind Declan’s eyes and he closed them tighter. Damn, what the hell kind of bender did he go on? His back ached, and he tried to shift to find a more comfortable position, but failed. Was he on the floor? Whatever he laid on was hard as a rock. And cold.

His arm was over his head and his fingers tingled as though asleep. He tried to pull his arm down, but couldn’t. What the hell? He tried again, but something held it immobile. He tried to move his other one, but it was caught as well.

With a gasp, Declan opened his eyes. Everything came back to him in a flash. The sting in his neck, the feeling of being drugged, the shadow looming over him. Even now, he still felt sluggish and his vision was blurry.

He glanced around the room and blinked several times to try and clear his vision. Things slowly came into focus. It was a large room with brick walls, lots of dark corners due to no windows. One light burned at his feet, about twenty or so feet away. It sat on a wooden table that ran the length of the brick wall. Abandoned barrels were stacked between him and the table, creating a short wall, hiding what was behind it.

“Please don’t hurt him,” he heard a woman say.

Declan frowned as he attempted to recognize the voice.

“It’s the only way,” a man replied angrily. “I’m protecting you, Chloe. I’ve always protected you.”

“You’ve imprisoned me,” she yelled. “And don’t tell me again how it’s for my protection.”

Declan froze in his attempts to break his arms free. Chloe? And the man’s voice. It sounded like…

“They hurt you, Chloe. He will hurt you,” the man said reasonably.

“He would never hurt me,” she replied. “Please don’t do this. If you let him go I promise I’ll never come out again.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

Declan could just make out a tall shadow on the far side of the room, but only one. Where was Chloe? The figure turned and slowly walked toward Declan as he attempted to break the restraints. They cut into his wrist and he winced as blood began to drip down his arm and onto the table.

“I see you’re finally awake,” the man said as he came to stand by the table Declan had been strapped to.

Declan squinted as the man leaned down, bringing his face closer. “Father Carrington?”

He stood back straight and rubbed at his face with a damp cloth. “Yes.”

“Where’s Chloe?” Declan asked. “Chloe!”

Father Carrington made a pained expression and tilted his head briefly. “She’s exactly where she should be.”

“What the hell have you done?” Declan asked.

“I’ve done what I’ve had to,” Carrington said reasonably. “What you don’t understand about Chloe is she needs protection. She was abused as a child. Raped and beaten repeatedly by her father and uncle. She was broken. They shared her. Took turns between them. I came along and saved her.”

“How?” Declan asked.

If he kept him talking, maybe he could figure a way out of this.

Father Carrington wiped his hands with the cloth. Declan’s vision slowly improved, allowing him to better see the feature’s on Carrington’s face. Declan watched with shock as he wiped the cloth over the other cheek, removing makeup that resembled whiskers.

“I did what I had to,” he said. “I killed them. I kept Chloe safely tucked away for years. I went to college. Became a priest. Worked at ridding the world of derelict scum. Chloe was happy where she was. She was safe. Then she saw you and everything changed. She started coming out. Started craving old habits. Pain is all she’s known so that’s what drew her. She deserves better.”

“So you killed every dom she slept with.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never slept with her.”

“You’re the problem,” he snarled. “She wants to sleep with you and she’ll keep escaping as long as you’re here.”

“Escaping from where?” Declan asked tiredly.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Carrington asked as he unbuttoned his jacket.

Declan watched in stunned silence as he removed that jacket, revealing bindings around his chest. Declan moved his gaze back to Carrington’s face. Carrington removed a row of false teeth that covered his natural set. He removed contacts, revealing eyes he’d seen before. Chloe’s eyes.

“What the hell?” Declan murmured.

Father Carrington was Chloe. How the hell was that even possible? The argument he’d heard a few seconds ago was Father Carrington arguing with himself?

“I know she doesn’t understand, but she’ll come around,” Carrington said.

Declan pulled angrily at the bindings. “Chloe. I know you’re in there. Fight him!”

Father Carrington slapped his hand across Declan’s face. Lightning flashed behind his eyes, and he blinked to clear his vision as he turned to angrily glare at Carrington.

“She will not help you!” Carrington yelled. “I won’t allow it.”

Carrington made a strained face and lifted his hands to cup his head. “No!”

Declan struggled to pull at the restraints, but failed to loosen them. How long had it been since he’d sent that text to Paul? Where they looking for him yet? Had Carrington done something with his phone, sending anyone who would trace it to the wrong location?

Father Carrington raised his head and glanced around the room nervously. His eyes landed on Declan, and he rushed forward. Declan froze, watching him warily.

“I don’t have much time,” he said in a softer voice.

“Chloe?” he asked.

She nodded and reached for the restraints. “Yes.”

“Get me out of here,” he said.

He knew very little about split personalities – how it all worked or what he should say. He knew enough to tread carefully, though, so he kept quiet as his captor worked to free his wrists. He wasn’t even sure how to refer to him anymore. Father Carrington was physically a woman, but…he believed himself to be a man. Which would explain the strength. The mind could do amazing things; even give a woman the strength of a man, if she truly believed she was a man.

Once his restraints were loose, he sat up and rubbed at his hands, trying to get the feeling back in them.

“I’m so sorry,” Chloe said as tears gathered in her eyes.

What must she have gone through as a kid? How bad had it been if she created a second personality to protect her from it?

“Please run,” she pleaded. “I don’t know how long I can hold him back. He’s been here a long time. He’s so strong.”

She made a pained face Declan recognized. Pushing off the table, he started for the other side of the room. He didn’t bother to reach for his gun because he knew he didn’t have it. But against the wall, just a few feet away, was another table covered with ropes, clubs, and knives. He could use any one of those to subdue Carrington.

Pain sliced through his back, not once, but three times, sending him to his knees with a grunt.

“I told you, she can’t help you,” Carrington snarled as he stabbed him again, forcing Declan to all fours.

Declan’s hands shook as he tried to push to his feet. The searing pain left him weak and unsteady. Breathing was difficult. Too difficult. One of the stabs must’ve hit his lung. He made it to his feet and turned to face Carrington just as he rushed forward, knife held high. Declan raised his arm, blocking the knife. The long blade slashed into his arm another three times. He had so much adrenaline working through his system, he barely felt the pain, but he also could barely move his fingers.

Reaching out with his left hand, he grasped Carrington’s wrist and shoved him backward. Carrington hit the table Declan had been tied to and almost fell over before rushing forward again.

Declan’s vision began to blur. Blood slid down his arm and dripped onto his pants and floor. His shirt was stuck to his back as blood from his back wounds glued the material to his skin. The one to his lung was probably the most pressing. He had no idea where the other wounds were. His kidney, maybe? Liver? He fell toward the table and grabbed one of the clubs.

Just as Carrington rushed him again, Declan swung, hitting him in the face. Carrington spun sideways and stared around the room confused. He stared at the knife in his hand and then at Declan, his eyes wide with fear and regret. Blood dripped down the side of his face and his eye had already begun to swell.

“Wha…what happened?” he asked softly.

“Chloe?” Declan murmured, unsure which one of them stared at him now.

Her lips began to tremble as tears flowed from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. All I ever wanted was to love you.”

Declan held his hand out to her. “Chloe. Come here, sweetheart.”

If he could get her close enough, maybe he could restrain her somehow, provided Carrington didn’t emerge again. This whole damn situation was giving him whiplash.

She shook her head and sniffed back tears. “I can’t live like this anymore. It’s too dark. Too cold.”

“Chloe,” Declan said a little louder, still holding out his hand.

She stared at the knife and then her chest. Declan frowned and tried to focus on his breathing. He knew if Father Carrington reemerged, he wouldn’t have the strength to fight him. He was loosing too much blood. One of the blows to his arm had nicked an artery and blood pumped from the wound in his arm with every beat of his pulse.

She walked up to him and placed the handle of the knife in his good hand. Unfortunately, it was his left one. His right hand was useless.

“Please,” she said as she lifted his arm and pointed the tip of the knife at her chest.

Declan shook his head. “Let me get you help, Chloe.”

She shook her head and that pained expression returned. Declan knew what that meant and his fingers tightened on the handle of the knife. Father Carrington’s eyes widened at the site of the knife in Declan’s hand. Using the last amount of strength he had, Declan shoved it forward, sinking it deep in Carrington’s chest.

Blood covered the binding that held his breasts down as Carrington sank to his knees, his eyes glued to the handle of the knife still sticking out of his chest. Carrington fell to his side as Declan also slid to the floor. He lay on his side, staring at Carrington as his breathing became shallow and ragged.

Carrington’s hand reached out and Declan swallowed, realizing it was Chloe who stared back at him. Declan took her hand, weakly closing his fingers around hers. Oddly, he didn’t blame Chloe. She was the victim in all this. First abused by her father and uncle and then by the personality who had formed to protect her. But why a priest? What was in her past that had driven her new formed personality to the church?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And he truly was. He would’ve preferred to get her help, but Father Carrington wouldn’t allow it.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Declan swallowed as he watched the light leave her eyes. A deep cold swept over him and his own eyes closed. He was so tired and his chest hurt. He was close to the end now. He could feel it. If only he could see Jillian one more time. Hear her adorable laugh.

“Jillian,” he whispered.

“Declan,” someone called.

It was far off in the distance, and he wasn’t even sure he’d truly heard it.

“Declan,” a man said who sounded like Paul. “Help’s on the way, man. Stay with me!”

Declan opened his eyes and stared at Paul.

“It’s a good thing you put those trackers in everyone’s phone,” Paul said as he waved a paramedic over. “We started looking for you when you didn’t show up.”

Declan licked his lips. “Father Carrington,” he whispered.

Paul frowned and moved out of the way of the paramedic as he wrapped his arm to stop the bleeding.

“Do you want me to get Father Carrington?” Paul asked. “You’re not gonna die, Declan. So don’t even go there.”

Declan slowly blinked and shook his head. Using his good hand, he pointed to the body next to him. “Father Carrington.”

Paul walked over and rolled the body. “It’s a woman, Declan.”

“Yes.” Declan winced as the paramedics lifted him to the stretcher. “Father Carrington was Chloe.”

“What?” Paul asked, but Declan couldn’t answer.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the paramedic said. “We need to get him out of here, now.”

 

 

* * * *

Jillian joined Deanne at the nurse’s station and took the cup of coffee her friend handed her with a smile.

“Thank you,” Jillian said as she lifted the cup to take a sip.

Just three hours into her shift and it had already been a rough day. A car accident had come in, keeping the other surgeons busy. Jillian was the only one at the moment without a patient, which gave her a few minutes to think about Declan and what he’d said earlier.

“I talked with Declan earlier,” Jillian said, but she didn’t look at her friend. Instead, she kept her eyes on her cup.

“And?” Deanne asked.

Jillian turned to stare at her friend and rested her head on her hand. “And…I still don’t know. I like him so much and it’s not just the sex, it’s…it’s him. He charming and funny. He’s a lot of fun to be around.”

Deanne raised an eyebrow. “I sense a but in there somewhere.”

Jillian sighed. “No, buts. I want to spend more time with him, despite what he does for a living.”

“Good, but I still sense some hesitation.”

Jillian’s lips spread into a slight smile and her cheeks flushed. “If I want to see him again, all I have to do is say the word, but the word…is Master.”

Deanne laughed. Jillian dropped her head onto the counter and closed her eyes. “This is so not funny.”

“No,” Deanne said through giggles. “This is hilarious. You were all over me for calling a Dom master and now you have to do it.”

Jillian brought her head up and glared at her friend.

Deanne’s smile widened as she patted her friend on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad, Jillie, I promise.”

Jillian fought her own grin as she shook her head. She wagged her finger. “I’m going to figure a way around this. I will.”

Deanna laughed again, but Jillian didn’t mind. In some ways it was a little funny.

A nurse rushed up and handed Jillian a pair of latex gloves. “We have an ambulance on the way. Multiple stab wounds, loss of a lot of blood, and a collapsed lung.”

Jillian slid the gloves on and headed out the door with the nurse to await the ambulance. The doors opened and two paramedics jumped out to grab the gurney.

“F.B.I agent with multiple stab wounds to the back and arm. Sevier bleeding from the arm. Looks as though the knife may have nicked an artery.”

Jillian wasn’t sure she heard anything past F.B.I. agent. She rushed to the side of the gurney and sucked in a breath of air at the sight of a pale Declan.

“Declan?” she yelled as they pushed the gurney into one of the side rooms.

Jillian moved to the head of the table and cupped his cheeks, turning his face toward hers while the nurses and paramedics cut off his shirt. What had happened? “Declan!” she said much louder.

Declan opened his eyes and stared up at her, but Jillian wasn’t sure he actually saw her. “Somebody get me a hemoglobin count,” she ordered. “And a type. He needs blood.”

“I’m A positive,” he murmured.

“Hey, there you are,” she said as she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to his lungs.

His right one had collapsed.

“I can’t feel my hand,” he whispered.

She glanced at the wounds on his arm. “You have three stab wounds to your forearm. My guess is you have some damage to the Ulnar nerve.” She put his arm back down. “Right now that’s the least of your problems. Your right lung has collapsed and I’m going to need to insert a tube, and unfortunately, it’s not going to be pleasant.”

Declan closed his eyes as he drew in a shallow, ragged breath. “I can’t hurt any more than I already do.”

Jillian raised Declan’s arm above his head. He winced at the pain the movement caused, but nothing more. Using her fingers, she found the spot between two ribs and used the scalpel to make a small one-inch incision. Declan’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

As Deanne handed her the chest tube, another nurse came in and connected a bag of blood to the IV the paramedics had put in. “His hemoglobin count was 3.”

“Jeez, Declan,” she said in an attempt to find at least some humor. “When you do things, you don’t do them half assed, do you?”

“Well,” he croaked. “I am a master.”

“That you are,” she said softly. “Hold your breath, Declan.”

She slid the tube into the incision, past the ribs and into the pleural space. Declan scrunched his nose and groaned as the tube went into place, allowing the air out of the chest cavity, and hopefully, his lung to re-inflate.

She gave it a second and watched. His breathing became slightly easier, but he still struggled.

“We’re going to have to repair that lung,” she said and then glanced at Deanne. “Is there an O.R. available?”

Deanne nodded. “They’re just waiting on us.”

“Call Dr. Lampus for a consult on his nerve damage,” Jillian said as they began to push Declan’s gurney out of the room.

Just as she was headed down the hall, another surgeon grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. Jillian noticed Deanne stayed with her as opposed to traveling ahead with Declan.

She stared at the doctor and pulled her arm from his grasp. “I have a—“

“No,” he said firmly. “I have a surgery. You’re dating him correct?”

Jillian stared in surprise at him then turned to glare at Deanne.

“Don’t glare at her. She did the right thing. You know better. You did what you had to. You stabilized him, now do what you’re supposed to and step aside.”

Jillian sighed and nodded. “You’re right.”

“You can watch from the observatory,” he said as he turned to head down the hall toward the surgery wing.

“I’m sorry,” Deanne said softly.

Jillian shook her head. “No. You did the right thing. I’m too close to him.” Jillian put her hands on her hips and sighed up at the ceiling. “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”

Deanne grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. “He’s serious, but he’s going to be okay. They got to him in time.”

Jillian shook her head. “What happened? I just had lunch with him a few hours ago.”

“I think I can explain that,” a man said.

Jillian and Deanne both turned to look at him. “Who are you?” Jillian asked.

“My name’s Paul. I work with Declan.”

“As an agent?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Did this have to do with the case he was working on?” she asked, almost angrily.

Paul nodded. “We’re going to need to talk to him as soon as he comes out of surgery.”

Jillian scowled and put her hands on her hips. “Can this not wait?”

Paul started to say something, but Shawn rushed forward, interrupting them. “Dr. Drance! I heard Declan was brought in. Is he – “

Jillian gripped his shoulders. “He’s stable.”

“Can I see him?” Shawn asked anxiously.

He was breathing hard as he put his hand over his stomach as though in pain. “He’s in surgery, sweetheart, but he’s going to be fine. Are you okay?”

Shawn drew in a deep breath and nodded. “I ran from the bus stop. I’m just out of breath. Seems my stamina hasn’t completely come back yet since the surgery.”

Jillian lifted his shirt and checked his scar. Relieved it hadn’t re-opened, she put his shirt back down. “Come with me,” she murmured as she grabbed his elbow and pulled him along behind her. “Deanne, would you take care of…” She waved her hand toward the man who’d asked about Declan.

“Paul,” he called.

“Yeah. Paul,” Jillian said as she pulled Shawn into the Dr’s lounge.

“What are we doing?” Shawn asked.

Jillian pulled a spare pair of scrubs from the linen closet and handed them to Shawn. “Go in the bathroom and put those on.”

Shawn looked confused, but did as she ordered.

When he came out of the bathroom, Jillian had him bend down so she could tie a bandana around his head. It was similar to hers, but instead of Mickey Mouse, it had palm trees on it.

“What are we doing?” Shawn asked.

“We’re going to the observation lounge. Follow me and don’t talk.”

Shawn gave her a slight smile and nodded. The two of them made their way down the hall toward the surgical wing. She opened the door to the observation lounge and peeked inside. It was empty, so she signaled for Shawn to follow her. They picked two seats in the back row and sat down.

“We’re gonna watch the surgery?” Shawn asked.

“Yes,” she replied as she stared down at Declan. “Be very quiet and draw as little attention to yourself as possible. You’re not really supposed to be in here.”

Declan was on his back with his arms spread wide, but he still wasn’t asleep yet. The orthopedic surgeon had come in to talk to him about his arm, but Jillian couldn’t hear what was said. They were speaking too low.

The surgeon moved, and Declan’s eyes met hers through the glass window that overlooked the operating room. She smiled slightly and lifted her hand to give a slight wave. She watched as his eyes closed and the anesthesiologist moved in to intubate him.

“Why are they doing that?” Shawn asked.

She leaned closer and spoke softly. “It’s normal procedure. One of the stab wounds hit his lung, so they’re going to repair the damage to his lung and any other damage the knife may have done.”

“It looks like he was stabbed in the arm, too.”

Jillian nodded. “Defensive wounds probably.” She held her arm up. “He must’ve done this to block the attacker. In the E.R., he said he couldn’t feel his hand, so I called in an orthopedic surgeon to repair the nerve damage.”

“Nerve damage?” Shawn asked.

“Yes. There’s a nerve that runs down your arm to your hand. It’s called the Ulnar nerve. If that has been severed, it would make his hand go numb.”

“Can they fix that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing,” Shawn murmured as he leaned in closer to better see.

Jillian smiled slightly and patted him on the back of the shoulder. “It’s going to be a long surgery, so make yourself comfortable.”