Warriors,Winners & Wicked Lies: 13 Book Excite Spice Military, Sports & Secret Baby Mega Bundle (Excite Spice Boxed Sets) Read online

  The master puppeteer had pulled the strings and he had danced, just the way he was supposed to. Even if he thought he’d been making a choice, it had already been made for him.

  “That’s horrible.” She stared at him in disbelief, like any civilian told the truth about how veterans were actually treated. It wasn’t how anyone imagined.

  “Anyway, I’m here on my dad’s dime.” He made a face as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the examining table. “But I’m not going to let him spend his life savings on trying to put this egg back together. If I’m broken, I’m going to stay broken.”

  “But Levi…” she pleaded. He stopped her with one look.

  “The V.A. won’t pay for it, Linn. I’d love to come back and see you.” He said this with more truth than he’d even realized before that moment. She was standing so close he could smell her—very different from that fruity fifth grade girl smell—something musky and exotic and darkly appealing. “But I can’t afford it.”

  “You won’t accept your father’s money?” She sighed, shaking her head at him. “And you say he’s stubborn? He’s your father. He loves you. He just wants to help you.”

  “No one can help me.” He knew it was the truth, had come to it just recently, giving up all hope.

  It was a relief, finally, when it happened. He just let hope go, like a little kid sailing a paper boat in a creek, watching it bob and weave and finally hit the rocks and go under, an inevitable death. That’s when he knew he would swallow the barrel of his .45. He didn’t know what he’d been waiting for, but now maybe he knew. One last day, one last moment. A sanctioned ride in the Boss, a smile and a touch from a woman who had once loved him. He wouldn’t die happy, but he would die content. That was enough.

  “Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” Linney’s eyes flashed and he blinked at her in surprise. “I have resources. There are people who love you, who want to help you. And you’re too proud to accept help? How selfish is that?”

  “Well… there’s that refreshing honesty again.”

  “You know how much I appreciate honesty.” She couldn’t help smiling. “So are you going to be a selfish, arrogant asshole, or are you going to let someone help you when you need it?”

  “I don’t really have much choice, Linn.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I can’t afford whatever you have in mind.”

  “Here.” She grabbed her clipboard off the chair where she’d left it, using the pen tucked in at the top to write something down. She tore the corner off a piece of paper, handing it to him. “This is the name and number of a doctor.”

  He was already shaking his head, even as he took the slip of paper from her.

  “Don’t shake your head at me!” She shook her finger at him instead. “Call her. She’s not a surgeon. She’s a holistic doctor, and I promise you, she’ll do everything she can for you. There’s an alternative therapy called PRP that has really helped some of my patients who suffer like you do.”

  “PRP?” He grabbed his jacket, tucking the slip of paper into the front pocket.

  “Platelet rich plasma,” she explained. “Basically, they take your own plasma and inject back into your body at certain points—your tendons, ligaments. It really can help them heal and reduce your pain.”

  “Linney.” He sighed, shrugging his jacket on. She was a tall girl, and when her chin was set high and defiant like that, she seemed even taller. He was six feet even and she almost met him eye to eye. “I told you—hope is the enemy.”

  “No, Levi.” Her hand on his upper arm, the tattoo of a cricket underneath. She stopped him, disarmed him in a way no one had in years. “You’re the enemy. You were always your own worst enemy.”

  He couldn’t deny that. “I have to go.”

  “I want to see you again,” she urged, stepped between him and the exit, standing on tiptoes so they were, indeed, eye to eye.

  “I told you…” He sighed, reaching around her for the doorknob.

  “I can come to you.” She leaned back against the door, keeping it closed.

  “Linney…” They were close now, closer than they’d been. Close enough he could have closed that gap and kissed her like he used to, ending whatever argument had been about to erupt.

  “I want to.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, quieting whatever words he’d been about to say. It clearly crossed the line from professional to personal but he was still stuck on the words I want to half-whispered from those glistening pink lips. He felt the press of her fingers but imagined her lips, the sweet surrender of her mouth under his.

  “My number’s on that slip of paper,” she whispered. “Call me if you want me.”

  Not “call me for an appointment,” or “call if you want to see me,” but “call me if you want me.”

  And he did want her. More than he was ready to admit and certainly more than he had any right to.

  Go for it, Captain.

  Goddamned chirping in his head. He was about ready to tear it off his shoulders just to get it to stop.

  “Take care of yourself, Mr. Woodyer,” she said loudly, opening the door for him. Then her voice lowered, her eyes soft. “And try to go easy on the painkillers.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” He tipped her a salute as he headed out the door.

  “And take the Boss for a spin around Crocodile Lake for me!”

  He hesitated, glanced over his shoulder, lost in those bright blue eyes, that matching shock of blue hair.

  “You could come with me?” Damned Cricket. The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back “My dad’s teaching at the community college until tonight.”

  “I have more patients.” She shook her bright blue head, looking truly regretful, and so was he. “I’ll take a rain check though.”

  He was genuinely sorry she’d turned him down—but it was probably for the best.

  He winked and gave her another little salute before heading down the hall.

  A rain check. She wanted a rain check, and there was nothing more he wanted to give her—but he knew he wouldn’t be around long enough for her to cash it.

  * * *

  Living on twenty percent of his former rate of pay wasn’t easy. Woody had hired a lawyer after the V.A. told him he would only be getting twenty percent—the lawyer was hopeful they could bump that number up to sixty—but it was a long, involved process, and in the meantime, he was broke. Granted, Woody didn’t have many things to pay for anymore—he lived with his father, he didn’t own a car, he didn’t eat much and the V.A. covered prescriptions—but now he was going to end up spending all of his money on treatments that were saving his life.

  Literally, saving his life.

  Three weeks ago he’d been suicidal, ready to swallow the barrel of a gun, but that was before Dr. Fields and the miracle of plasma. His own goddamned plasma, extracted from his body via a vial of blood, separated out with a centrifuge, and then re-injected like some magic potion. And it was. He’d cut his painkiller unbelievably—in just three weeks!

  With perfectly teased white hair and a face so lined and wrinkled she resembled a Shar-Pei, Dr. Fields was ancient, but when she smiled, she lit up a whole room. He went into his second treatment determined to make her laugh.

  “I feel like the Hulk,” he said as she snapped on a pair of gloves.

  “You mean, I wouldn’t like you when you’re angry?” Dr. Fields raised her faint, white eyebrows.

  “No, like… I swear I have super powers or something.” He grinned as he watched the nurse tap the needle, readying the first injection. “The Hulk was exposed to gamma radiation. Spiderman got bit by a radioactive spider. Well, plasma gives me super powers.”

  She laughed and, in his imagination, he pumped his fist in the air. Success!

  Good job, Captain!

  Cricket approved of Dr. Fields.

  “So what’s your super power?” she inquired, nodding toward the table where she wanted him to lie down. He knew the drill and stretche
d out on his belly, the hospital gown he wore parting in the back. His jeans and boots were still on.

  “Going four hours without thinking about painkillers.” He closed his eyes as the nurse handed over the syringe and the doctor began her work. The gloves were dry, her hands cold as she probed expertly, looking for just the right spots to inject the lidocaine.

  “That’s a pretty good super power,” she murmured.

  “Gotta start somewhere, Doc.” He didn’t even flinch when he felt the needle. That sting meant salvation. The plasma would soon follow.

  “We do indeed.” She patted him on the arm as the nurse started up the ultrasound machine. “So how is Linney?”

  “She’s fine.” He hadn’t seen her since that first appointment, although he still had her number tucked into his wallet. He’d worked up the courage to call Dr. Fields but not quite enough to call Linney.

  “You’re a very bad liar.” Dr. Fields pursed her lips as she picked up another prepared syringe.

  “I am not.” He grinned. “I lie all the time.”

  “Just because you lie often doesn’t mean you’re a good liar.” She focused on the ultrasound machine, letting it guide her as the first needle went into his back.

  “Does being old make you psychic?”

  “That’s my super power.” She laughed again as she moved to another spot. He felt her hand on his shoulder. “Your cricket—I don’t want him to swell.”

  “It’ll be fine.” He glanced at his upper arm where the nurse directed the ultrasound.

  “So who was your cricket?” Dr. Fields asked, injecting him again.

  The woman was very perceptive.

  “A friend.” He didn’t lie this time. “A very good friend.”

  “I’m sure you were a good friend to him.” Two more injections. She was quick, efficient. “All done for today.”

  “I was an arrogant asshole,” he muttered, remembering Linney’s words as he sat up.

  “But you’re not anymore.” She pulled off her gloves, tossing them into the trash.

  “Sometimes I still am,” he confessed.

  “Your body is healing.” She patted his upper arm, covering his cricket tattoo. With her other hand, she pointed at his heart. “This will follow.”

  “This is going to take more than plasma.” He pointed to his heart too with a rueful smile.

  “I agree.” She gave him a sage nod as the nurse started readying the ultrasound machine and the room for the next patient. “There is another miracle drug. Do you want to know what it is?”

  “Do I?” He smirked, shrugging off his gown and reaching for his t-shirt.

  “Love.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head, raising his eyebrows at her. “Are you in love with me, Dr. Fields?”

  “I am a little in love with you, Levi Woodyer.” She laughed. “What woman wouldn’t be? Hm, Nurse Schell?”

  The formerly silent nurse just snorted, still sorting out the room.

  Dr. Fields leaned in, conspiratorial. “But I know someone who is far more in love with you than I am.”

  “I think that ship has sailed.” He smiled at her indulgently.

  “So get in a rowboat and go after it!” She made a rowing motion and he couldn’t help laughing.

  “Hey, listen,” he said, deliberately changing the subject. “I wanted to talk to you about my treatment. I mean… the cost.”

  “No, no, no.” She shook her head, brushing the subject away with a wave of her hand. “I already talked to Linnea about it.”

  “No, listen.” He frowned, interrupting her. “I can pay my own way. I just might have to make some arrangements…”

  “Mr. Woodyer, I say again, you are a terrible liar.”

  “I’m not—”

  “My husband was a marine.” She interrupted him, crossing her arms over her white coat and stethoscope. “Did you know that?”

  He blinked, shaking his head.

  “He served his country for fifteen years,” she went on. “He volunteered to go to Vietnam as a young man. We were newly married and I was entering medical school. Do you know what kind of reception he received when he returned?”

  He grimaced. “I can guess.”

  “He got spit on.” Her eyes flashed behind her little wire-rimmed glasses. “And not just by the hippies who hated the establishment he stood for. It took the government forty years before they would begin paying for the damage Agent Orange did. We never had children. Now I wish I’d gotten pregnant before he left.”

  He stared at her, incredulous. What could he say to that? She was hugging herself now, hands clasping her upper arms. If he’d known her a little better, he would have hugged her himself.

  “He died on dialysis waiting for a kidney transplant.” Her eyes glistened behind the lenses of her glasses. “Three of the other men who went on that mission also died of kidney failure. Coincidence?”

  He shook his head, silent.

  “I’m a doctor.” She sniffed and gave a little laugh—not the kind he tried to elicit. This laugh was soft and sad. “I’m taught to ignore the anecdotal evidence—but I’m also a woman. And sometimes a woman just knows.”

  He certainly couldn’t argue with that.

  “I know how they treat you.” She put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. “I know how they forget about you, how they ignore you and hope you just go away. They take your youth and your health and when you’re of no use to them anymore, they leave you to die, alone, in pain. If you let them, that’s what they will do. “

  His eyes stung and he blinked fast, swallowing hard, unable to look at her.

  “But I won’t let that happen,” she insisted, shaking his arm, imploring him. “Not to you. Not to any man who served, like my Ralph did.”

  “But I can’t let you do this for free,” he replied, voice hoarse. “You have to eat too…”

  “Listen to me.” She shook her finger at him now, like Linney had, and it made him want to smile. “I still work because if I didn’t, I would go insane. Can you imagine me playing checkers and going to matinees and eating the senior breakfast special at Big Boy?”

  He did smile then, shaking his head. “No I can’t imagine.”

  “My husband served his country and then he died because his country didn’t care for him,” she reminded him. “What I do for boys like you—it’s the very least I can do.”

  He slid off the table, reaching for his camouflage jacket and shrugging it on. The nurse was gone, had left at some point while he and Dr. Fields were talking.

  “You make another appointment and you come back,” she urged him. “If you insist on paying, you pay what you can, when you can.”

  “Okay.” He gave in, although he didn’t know if it was for her or for him. “I’ll see you in three weeks.”

  “By then, let’s hope you’ll have gathered up the courage to call the girl, hm?” She flashed a smile at him as he reached for the doorknob.

  “Women. You’re brutal. I’ll take a room full of marines any day.”

  She laughed, a real laugh, a hand on his back as she pressed him out the door. “By the way, thank you for your service, young man.”

  So many people said those words but so few actually meant them. But he knew she did. It made him choke up a little.

  “Really, thank you.” She held the door as he went through it. “The freedoms we enjoy in this country—and they are great, in spite of my complaints sometimes—are because of men like you.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a little salute, making her smile. “See you in a few weeks, Doc.”

  * * *

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Woody grabbed the big folding table by the handle on top as Linney struggled with it up the front porch steps.

  “Thanks. It’s heavy.” She watched appreciatively as he carried it effortlessly into the house. “You make it look easy.”

  “I’m good at lugging things,” he agreed, stopping in the living room and glancing around. “At
least I’m good for something. Where do you want it?”

  “I don’t know, that’s up to you.” Linney stood in the doorway, taking in her surroundings. He wondered if she, too, was remembering the first time she’d been there. The last. “Do you want some privacy? We could do it in your room.”

  “Sure.” He grinned at her wording—how many times had they “done it” in his room?

  “Let me just…” He opened his bedroom door—it was at the front of the house, off the living room—sliding the table inside and leaning it against the dresser. He’d been a good boy and had even cleaned up.