Marked Men: Nash Part 3

He cringed a little and looked away. The goatee that surrounded his mouth curled down on the sides and I felt my stomach dip.

"There isn't a fight anymore, Nash. The cancer has officially had a TKO on my system. It's metastasized, it's moved into my lymph nodes. Not much we can do but wait it out."

I gulped and felt moisture start to burn at the back of my eyes. I pulled the brim of my hat down lower over my forehead and blinked hard to keep the emotion in check.

"What about chemo, or radiation ... h.e.l.l, what about a voodoo ceremony? No options?"

He shook his head, and while I felt like he was giving me the worst news in the world, Phil looked like he had had plenty of time to come to terms with his fate and the lack of satisfying answers.

"I know this is all new to you, and that you haven't had enough time to really come to terms with the lot of it, but I've been sick for a while and this isn't my first go-around. The time I had with you, with the rest of the crew, it was a blessing."

I felt anger start to coil back up in my gut and I had to concentrate on breathing in and out to stop from las.h.i.+ng out.

"You were sick before?"

He made a noise of affirmation and reached a shaky hand out for a gla.s.s of water. I walked around the side of the bed so I could hand it to him. Our matching gazes locked and I had to swallow back all the sour-tasting feelings this conversation was leaving in my mouth.

"Yeah. Same thing. Right before I bought the shop. It was a tumor in one lung and I had surgery to cut it out and then had to do treatment for a year afterward. It was one of the main reasons I was so eager to let you and Rule apprentice under me. There is a lot of c.r.a.p work out there, people don't take the art, the work behind tattooing, seriously. I knew if I taught you boys the right way to do it, made you respect the skill and craft inside and out, if anything happened to me my legacy would be left in good hands. I beat it that time around, thought maybe I could beat it again."

"Why didn't you quit smoking?"

"Because quitting is hard. Because I thought I was invincible. I don't know, Nash. There isn't a good reason. I wish I had quit, and I hope you will. There is absolutely no reason for you to tempt fate."

I opened my mouth to say something else but got sidetracked when the door swung open and Rule walked in.

"All good in here?"

"Working on it, kiddo. Come in here really quick, I want to talk to both of you about something."

Rule shut the door and made his way to the opposite side of the hospital bed. Phil opened his mouth, and before he could start speaking broke off into an awful fit of coughing. It hurt me to watch the way the hacking cough moved his frail body. It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and Rule and I shared a concerned look over the bed.

"d.a.m.n, that hurt." He cleared his throat and s.h.i.+fted his gaze back and forth between the two of us. "I'm signing the shop over to you boys. We own the location outright, so the deed to the property is going in Nash's name. You two have been an unstoppable team since you were old enough to start giving me gray hair, you're also the best artists in this town. You both put the Marked on the map, gave it a style and a name that I never could. You made it yours and I think the two of you as business partners have a lot to offer this city."

Rule and I exchanged stunned looks and then looked at Phil like he was speaking French and we didn't understand. We could tattoo, we could work with clients, but neither one of us had any clue how to manage or operate a business.

"I was looking for a new location, a second shop in LoDo. I wanted to expand, get our name and work to a different breed of clientele. I found the perfect spot. Signed a five-year lease on it, but now ... well, now it's going to be up to you guys to get it up and running."

LoDo referred to the lower downtown portion of Denver. It was filled with bars, restaurants, and any kind of lease on a storefront down there had to be astronomical. Rule was the first to ask: "Uh ... you do realize we have no idea how to run a shop, right?"

Phil rolled his eyes and snorted at us.

"Of course I know that. I already talked to Cora. She's going to be your business manager. You really think once that baby gets here she's going to want to answer phones and schedule appointments for you boneheads all day? No way, that little spitfire was born to take care of someone, she'll wanna spend as much time with the baby as she can. Give her an office in the new building, she can handle the technical aspects for you, and if she still wants to pierce, she can schedule it on her own time. All you need to do is find a new shop manager and hire the staff for the new location. I have faith in you boys. You'll do me proud."

"You've planned this all out without bothering to ask either of us how we feel about it?" I couldn't keep some of the simmering anger I was feeling from bursting through.

"Nash ..." Phil's voice dipped down an octave. "I don't have enough time left to argue. I want my family taken care of, I want what I worked so hard to build to live on. This is the way to achieve both those things. Trust me."

I used to trust him without question ... recent events made that a little bit harder to do.

"Where are we supposed to find a new shop manager? And how do you expect either of us to vet an entirely new staff of artists? Rule and I don't have any idea how to do that." I sounded a little bit petulant even to my own ears.

"You'll figure it out. I have a few calls in to some people, some contacts I've made over the years. I'm not going to leave you high and dry."

Both of us had a million and one questions to ask, but Phil broke off in a fit of coughing that didn't seem to have an ending point. He was obviously uncomfortable and in an immeasurable amount of pain. Rule went and found a nurse, who gave Phil something that soon had his eyes drooping closed and his chest moving up and down in a steady rhythm. He faded out and Rule jerked his head toward the door, so I followed him into the hallway.

"Holy s.h.i.+t."

"Yeah, that about covers it." I took my hat off my head and then slammed it back on. "What the f.u.c.k are we going to do?"

"Figure it out, I guess. That's what we always do."

"This is insane, all of it."

"No doubt, but we'll just take it one step at a time. We got your back, Nash. Remember that next time you want to play ostrich and bury your head in a bottle of tequila for a week."

I did know it. "Thanks, Rule. Hey, give me just a minute. I wanna try and track down Saint and apologize."

"Apologize for what?"

"At this point I feel like I need to apologize to her for simply existing. Thanks for dragging me out of my stupor."

"Anytime. I'll meet you at the truck. I need to call Shaw. She still hasn't told her parents about the wedding. I don't care one way or the other if they're going to come or not, but I know Casper well enough to know she'll feel guilty if she doesn't at least give them the opportunity to prove they aren't horrible, even though we all know they are."

I snorted because he wasn't kidding and because it still made me laugh when he used his nickname for Shaw. Her super white-blond hair lent itself to the endearment. His words were also a harsh reminder that I wasn't the only one that had seriously screwed family dynamics. The building blocks that made me who I was as a person were changing, being rearranged and placed in different places. I wasn't scared of change, one look at my body and anyone could see that ... what I was terrified of was having to look back and see that my mom giving me up ... letting me go, had nothing to do with a broken heart left from a deadbeat dad, but everything to do with me and the fact I wasn't what she wanted. It had to do with the fact that I just wasn't good enough, and even though I had long since made peace with never meeting her standards, it still left a mark.

CHAPTER 4.

Saint

The little boy I was working on was just too cute. He was probably only five or six and the gash he had on his head was pretty nasty, but he seemed to be taking it in stride. The mom was a hysterical wreck, like they all tended to be when their babies got hurt, but a couple of st.i.tches later and the advice to get some Tylenol and have the child wear a helmet when he was riding his bike and they were on their way. Of course I had to scrounge up a sucker to give the young patient. I couldn't stand seeing him leave without some kind of smile. Working on little kids was hard, but it always made my insides happy when I could fix them up and send them on their way with their tears dried up.

I snapped off my surgical gloves and nodded at the attending ER doctor as he moved on to the patient in the next room. It was flu season, so we were running at a pretty steady pace, not to mention the colder weather had the homeless population in and out dealing with a variety of weather-related injuries and symptoms. I always had to be on my toes, never knowing what was around the corner, which made my days move quickly and kept my job challenging and interesting. However, when I came around the corner and saw a familiar tall, dark figure leaning against the intake desk, I had to pause and decide if I wanted to turn around and run the other way before he caught sight of me. Nash wasn't a challenge I particularly felt up to dealing with today.

I was irritated at him for acting so selfish while someone close to him was suffering, but more than that, I was furious with myself for giving in and getting involved when I knew better. I was also peeved that even though he rubbed me all kinds of the wrong way, the kiss he had forced on me had had me tossing and turning in bed at night, and if I concentrated hard enough, I could still taste the imprint he had left on my mouth. Ugh ... why did he have to be so memorable in every possible way?

I narrowed my eyes and straightened my shoulders as I headed toward him. The nurse behind the desk was gazing up at him with a look I could only describe as awed. She was probably a decade older than me, had four kids, and her husband was a cop, but that didn't stop her from falling into the charismatic snare that Nash seemed to so effortlessly weave around the opposite s.e.x.

"What are you doing down here? Your dad is on the top floor." I saw him wince when I used the word dad, but I refused to feel bad about it. I had trouble with tripping over words and saying what I really meant with people, but for some reason none of that was a problem when I spoke to him.

I tossed the paperwork I was holding to the admitting nurse and crossed my arms over my chest as he turned so that he was facing me. The baseball hat he was wearing cast the top part of his face in shadow, but I could see he had dark circles under each eye and that there were fine white lines of tension bracketing each side of his mouth. All in all he looked a lot better than the last time I had seen him. Well, better, minus the fact he was fully clothed, and even though I didn't want to, I could still picture him half naked in vivid detail. I really did want to know what the front part of that ma.s.sive tattoo was attached to on the backside.

"Do you have a minute?" His voice was kind of gruff but he softened the question with a half grin that made my heart trip.

"Not really. We're pretty hectic today. The weather makes people go nuts, so we're extra busy."

He sighed and s.h.i.+fted so that he could shove his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other nurses floating in and around the desk watching us with open curiosity.

"It'll just take a second, please, Saint."

I didn't really think big, tough, tattooed guys used words like please, not that it was going to sway me. He had an unwanted effect on me and I knew it was a good idea to keep my distance from him. Just as I was about to refuse, the other nurse behind the desk, the one that was clearly smitten with his handsome face, offered up, "I'll take the next room that just came in. You go ahead and take a breather for five minutes."

I wanted to s.h.i.+ft my glare to her, but she was just trying to be helpful, so I bit my lip and tilted my head toward the waiting room. There were more private places in the hospital I could have led him to, but being alone with him made me nervous and anxious.

"Follow me over there."

He nodded and did as I asked. I felt the way his gaze burned into my back, and had to take several calming breaths and make sure I schooled my face into an impa.s.sive mask before I turned around to face him again. He sighed and used one broad shoulder to prop himself up against the coffee vending machine I had stopped by. We just stared at each other for a long moment. I was about to throw my hands up and walk away because the silence and his intense gaze gave me anxiety, when his quiet words surprised me.

"Phil's condition is really bad. He told me there isn't anything they can do. He's dying and he just seems to be rolling with it, I don't know how. I should have been here sooner."

His tone was somber and his eyes under the dark bill of his hat had lightened to the shade of lilac. I could see how gla.s.sy they were, how much emotion he was trying to swallow down, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to reach out and touch him, to try and soothe him. He wasn't a wild animal that needed to be gentled ... even if he kind of emanated that vibe.

"I'm sorry. Stage four is ugly and has a terrible prognosis no matter what kind of cancer it is."

He nodded jerkily and tossed his head back on his neck so that he was peering down at me from under the brim of his ball cap.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I was really drunk, my s.h.i.+t was all over the place, and I swear I'm not usually that kind of guy. It was very nice of you to come over and check on me, and I acted like a dips.h.i.+t. I just wanted to apologize, to tell you thanks."

I was dumbfounded. That wasn't what I was expecting from him, so I just stared up at him like a moron. He must have taken my silence as a rebuff because he pulled his hat off and sc.r.a.ped one of his hands roughly over the top of his shaved head. His dark eyebrows dipped down low over those fabulous eyes and his nostrils flared out a little. With that piercing he had in the center of his nose, it kind of made him look like an angry bull.

"Cut me some slack here, Saint. My life went sideways and this s.h.i.+t has been hard to deal with. I know you don't like me, so it was extra nice of you to swing by. What I don't know is why you don't like me."

I jolted back and dropped my defensive stance. Sure, I had my reasons for being standoffish and keeping my distance from him, but I had never meant to make my discomfort and unease around him totally palpable to others, especially to him. The last thing I wanted was to relive that moment, either of them. There was no way I was ever going to tell him that his dismissal, his harsh words, had forever changed me, forever changed how I looked at the opposite s.e.x. It was humiliating and obviously way more memorable to me than it was to anyone else. If he had no recollection of it, I wasn't going to remind him. He gave his head a shake and put his hat back on his head. He pushed off the vending machine and shrugged the wide expanse of his shoulders.

"All righty, then. I'll steer clear of the ER if I can avoid it because clearly I make you really uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I appreciated you reaching out when obviously you would rather poke your own eye out with a dull spoon. You're a really nice girl, Saint. I've always thought you were."

He pulled the hood of his sweats.h.i.+rt up over his hat and turned around and walked away from me. Once he was out of sight, I had to put a hand on my pounding heart inside my chest and concentrate on not hyperventilating. He always thought I was nice? Then how could he have encouraged me, urged me to go out of my comfort zone, and then act as though I didn't exist? Heck, kiss another girl right in front of me when I thought he was there for me? How could he say those hateful things that made me feel ugly and worthless to this day? Pretty boys shouldn't try to hurt nice girls ... at least in a perfect world they shouldn't.

I didn't get any more time to dwell on it because one of the nurses came flying around the corner frantically looking for me.

"Crash on the interstate. Four cars involved, multiple injuries coming in. They need at least four rooms prepped, if not more. The ambulances are three minutes out, so it's all hands on deck."

I didn't have time to worry anymore about Nash or the past or how off balance any time I was face-to-face with him made me. I shoved it all aside and settled firmly into the role I was most comfortable in. Here I had no questions, no doubts, I wasn't shy or hesitant, I was confident and secure. I just went to work and did what I did best ... helped other people.

It was a long and grueling s.h.i.+ft. I had to stay late because after we had the accident victims taken care of, we had a fire, another accident, and not one, but two gunshot wounds. It was hectic and chaotic, and I appreciated that it gave me the chance to push aside all my emotions from my recent run-ins with Nash and categorize them as trivial and fleeting.

I was walking out, dragging my feet and unwinding my long hair from the tight bun on the top of my head, when I ran into the only person outside of my sister who I considered a friend here in Denver. Suns.h.i.+ne Parker was the a.s.sistant nursing director, my boss, and probably the most honest and forthright person I had ever met. She was just a tiny little thing, part Filipino, with jet-black hair and a smile that went on for days. She had made the transition to this emergency unit bearable considering all my weird social hang-ups that often made settling into a new environment challenging. She was a few years older than me, totally dedicated to her career and to helping people in need. I so wanted to follow in her footsteps. She was just like me, only she had no problems talking to people or interacting like a normal person. She also wasn't struck dumb by simple conversation.

"Hey you. Rough day?"

I was rubbing my fingers hard into my scalp where my hair had been trapped, and had to admit I was exhausted. Today I'd seen an excessive amount of blood and guts, even for an ER, and my short conversation with Nash had worn me out. I felt awful for him and what he was going through, but it also grated on my nerves that I cared at all one way or the other. I wanted to be immune to him. Only that didn't seem to be an option my hormones were allowing.

"I've had better. It was a busy one."

She tossed her blanket of s.h.i.+ny hair over her shoulder and c.o.c.ked her head at me.

"You are an amazing nurse, Saint."

Those kind of compliments I could take. I grinned at her and pulled out my phone as it started to ring. The display showed my sister's face, so I silenced the call and shoved the phone in my pocket. I loved Faith, hard, but lately the only time she called me was when something was up with our parents, more specifically our mom, and the drama could wait for a second.

"Thanks, Sunny. That's always nice to hear, and coming from you it means a lot."

She grinned at me and put a hand on my shoulder, which had to look comical because she was so much shorter than me.

"Right. So believe me when I tell you that you need to find more in your life than this ER, or any ER. This is a job, a career, and yes, it's an important one, one that requires dedication and sacrifice, but it does not require that you lose yourself in it. You're a lovely, brilliant woman who has a bright future ahead of her. I see a lot of similarities between the two of us. Believe me when I say none of that means anything if you don't have anything else."

I made a confused face at her and s.h.i.+fted my weight so that she had to drop her hand off my shoulder.

"What brought that on, Sunny?"

She gave a little laugh and flipped her long hair over her shoulder again.

"I heard a rumor Dr. Bennet asked you out for drinks the other night, and you turned him down cold. Why would you do that? He's gorgeous, and you have work in common, so I know you would have things to talk about. Why didn't you even consider it? It just makes me worry about you. You've been here for almost two years, and you never socialize with us, never open up. I like you. I want you to be living the best life possible."

Dr. Bennet was the hospital's catch. He was twenty-eight, built like a fitness model, and had wavy black hair and dreamy green eyes that made most of the nurses and any other female whose path he crossed turn to mush. He was a total Lothario, but a seemingly nice guy, and had been hinting around for the last six months that he would like to get to know me better outside of work. Generally, I brushed the attention off. I wasn't the type of girl doctors wanted to date, and there was no way I was in the market for an office hookup-not when I could hardly act normal as it was. But he had flat-out asked me on a date on Thanksgiving. Instead of responding, or trying to stumble my way through a mumbled excuse, I'd rushed off the moment the Flight for Life info had come in bearing Phil Donovan's name. I had seen the information on the chart, and I had the single-minded need to find Nash and see what was going on with him. I hadn't exactly turned the doctor down, but whatever draw Nash still had was just more powerful than getting to know the handsome doctor better.

"Come on, Sunny. I don't really think I'm Bennet's type and I don't go out because I don't really have time. I work, and you know how crazy things have been with my mom. I do live a good life."

"A good life is not the same thing as a fulfilled life, Saint. If the man is asking you out, then I would say you are most definitely his type. You need to buy a new mirror, one that accurately shows you what everyone else sees when they look at you. I'll never understand how you can't see that you're pretty much every man's type."

I wanted to tell her she was wrong, I did see what everyone else saw, but no amount of spectacular cleavage, a nice hourgla.s.s figure, or pretty hair could overcome the fact I had a hard time connecting with people, that trusting someone enough to let go and lighten up was nearly impossible for me, or the fact that trying to make small talk and just act like a typical girl was almost an insurmountable task for me. I was always so worried about saying or doing the wrong thing. I was saved from leveling more excuses, more justification at her, by my phone going off again. I could practically see my sister's frustrated face on the other end of the call.

"I have to take this, Sunny, but seriously, thank you for looking out for me."

"Sure thing, my friend. Someone has to ... you're too busy caring for everyone else to care for yourself."

As if to prove her point, as soon as I cleared the sliding gla.s.s doors at the entrance of the hospital, Faith's voice rang shrill in my ear.

"Are you ignoring my calls?"

Faith and I were close. Since we were only a year apart, we had gone through school together until she graduated. Going away to college on the West Coast had been necessary for me, but it had also been hard to leave her behind. Now she was married to her college sweetheart. They had four kids under the age of seven and were expecting a fifth. She was the primary reason I had come back to Denver even though I loved the beach, missed the hospital and staff from my postgrad job in California, and had a really hard time returning to the town that reminded me of my younger self every day.

"No. I had to work late and got caught up talking to my boss on the way out. What's up?"

I heard her sigh as one of the kids screamed in the background.

"Did you talk to Mom this week?"