Rocco and Mandy: A Red Team Wedding Novella (Book #6.5) (6 page)

Kit followed him down the hall to the garage. “Where are you going?”

Angel wasn’t worried about Rocco overhearing him; he’d already gone down to the bunker to resume his work on Blade’s mom’s Omni World Order papers. “Rocco’s on a death march. I’m going to see Dr. Kimble, find out if there’s anything I—or we—can do. Letting him beat the crap out of me isn’t getting him anywhere.”

“You think he’s suicidal?”

“Just fucking look at him, Kit.” He dug Rocco’s bullet out of his pocket. “Mandy found this in his hidey-hole in her barn.”

Kit shut his eyes, folded his lips together, and clenched his jaw. When he looked at Angel, his eyes had a granite edge to them. “Go. Make Kimble hear you out.”

Angel nodded. “Copy that.”

It was early afternoon when Angel entered the brick building that housed the shrink’s offices. The front door was a heavy, six-paneled thing fashionable in the seventies. The hours posted on the door showed the doctor’s office was still closed for a midday break, but the door wasn’t locked, so Angel walked in.

A middle-aged woman sat behind a chest-high wall, working on a computer. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Dr. Kimble.”

She looked down at an appointment book and frowned. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No. Is he in? This is an emergency. I need to see him right now.”

“I’ll check. Just a moment.”

Angel couldn’t tell if she dialed an inside or outside line, but he heard the phone ring in a nearby office. He went down the hall to the room where it was ringing.

“Just a minute. Sir! You can’t go in there—” She hurried after him, but realized she still held the corded phone and had to quickly hang up. By then, Angel was already in the room. “I’m sorry, doctor. I—”

“It’s all right, Gretchen. I’ll handle this,” the white-haired man behind the desk said.

Angel glared down at him, wondering if he was Rocco’s salvation or just a wrong turn that would result in help coming too little and too late. “I need to talk to you.”

The man smiled as he came to his feet. “Somehow I knew that.” He held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Kimble.”

Angel took his hand and introduced himself. “I need to talk to you about a friend.”

The doctor’s eyes took a walk over the bruises on Angel’s face. “Oh?” He gestured toward the sitting area in his office. “Why don’t we sit down?”

Angel sat on the sofa. The doctor sat in an adjacent armchair. All of the furniture was in the sleek Scandinavian design that was so popular when Angel was a kid. His mom had loved that style, but they’d never been able to afford it.

Dr. Kimble opened his notebook then looked at Angel. That made him nervous, so he got up to start pacing around the office. “How do you know when someone is suicidal?” Angel asked.

“There are many signs sometimes. And sometimes none. Do you think your friend is suicidal?”

Angel nodded.

“Does your friend have a name?”

Angel didn’t immediately answer that. What if he told him it was Rocco and then Rocco found himself listed on some register of suicidal maniacs, his life ruined? But what if he didn’t and his neglect let Rocco stay on his current path?

“Is this in strict confidence? Or are you obligated to report my friend to some national clearinghouse of crazies?”

“Are you crazy, Angel?”

“It’s not me, it’s my friend.”

“Right.” The doctor nodded.

“Answer the question.”

“I’m obligated to treat your visit with the confidentiality of doctor-client privilege.”

Angel narrowed his eyes. Jesus, he didn’t want to wreck Rocco’s future with the team. “Is that a yes or a no?”

“Nothing you say will leave this office.”

There was a commotion out in the front office. A second later, Kit walked in. Angel introduced him. “Please, gentlemen, won’t you take a seat?” Dr. Kimble offered. “I’m going to get a crick in my neck looking up at you.” Angel and Kit exchanged a look, then sat on the sofa. “Are you here about a friend as well?” he asked Kit.

Before Kit could answer, Max, Greer, and Blade came into the room. They looked at him and nodded. Angel introduced them, too. Blade took a seat between him and Kit. Greer sat in the only other empty chair, leaving Max standing.
 

“Let me get you a seat,” the doctor said. As soon as he opened the door, Val and Kelan stepped inside. Dr. Kimble took a look at the whole group. “Why don’t we move this meeting to the conference room? Will others be joining you?”

“No,” Kit said. He lowered his voice as he told Angel, “Owen and Selena are manning the fort.”

They followed the doctor down the short hall to the conference room. He sat at the middle of the table. Angel and the guys stood around. The doc sighed. “Gentlemen, seats, please.” They sat, fast, like players in a round of musical chairs. “Are you all here for the same friend of Angel’s?”

Kit was sitting opposite the doc. He leaned forward, putting his folded hands on the table. “It’s Rocco. You’ve seen him once.”

Dr. Kimble frowned. “You think he’s suicidal?”

Angel set Rocco’s bullet on the table. The room got silent as they all looked at it. “His girlfriend found this in the place where he goes to get away from us.”

Dr. Kimble leaned forward and punched a button on the conference phone. “Gretchen, I need you to clear my calendar for today, and move things around for the next couple of weeks so that I have at least a three-hour window each morning.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“What can you tell me about what’s happening with him?”

Angel looked at Kit, letting him spill the beans. “Rocco was on an extended undercover mission in Afghanistan. He married the daughter of a warlord who was the focus of his investigation. They had a boy, then when she was pregnant with their second child, she blew herself and the whole village to smithereens. For a long while, it was thought that his son was dead, but he never believed that. When his boy was returned to him, we thought his PTSD would improve. And it did, for a while. He’s in a relationship with my sister now, and she’s expecting their first child. It seems to have inflamed his PTSD all over again.”

“May I ask what the nature of your current work here in Wyoming is?”

Angel looked at Kit, who said, “We’re bounty hunters.”

Dr. Kimble’s brows lifted. “Bounty hunters.” He looked around the table. “Is Wyoming harboring an unusually large number of criminals these days?”

Kit didn’t blink. “Enough to keep us busy.”

“I see. And what is it that Rocco does for you?”

“He’s an analyst.”

“Uh-huh.” Dr. Kimble dropped his gaze to his pad of paper, on which he’d made no notes. “So suffice it to say that you aren’t inclined to—or can’t—tell me the truth, but what you do is dangerous.”

“Correct.”

“Is it possible that what Rocco does in his job impacts his triggers? Can he take a leave of absence?”

“It may impact him, and absolutely he can, if it would help,” Kit said. “We’re at a loss, doc. We don’t know what to do. And this bullet proves his situation is far worse than we thought.”

“Was he injured during his undercover assignment?”

“Yes, from that explosion I mentioned. He lost his memory, lost track of his son, lost his wife and unborn child, and was taken prisoner and held in a pit. After we extracted him, he had a lengthy stay at Walter Reed. When they decided he was mended enough, they sent him on his way with a suitcase full of pills. He was living in his truck when I caught up with him again a few months later.”

Dr. Kimble forced a breath from his compressed lips, making a hissed whistle. He was silent for a long minute, as was the entire room. Angel wondered where he went in his mind. Back to the war and his own transition to civilian life? God, Angel hoped this shrink could get through to Rocco, but he honestly doubted Rocco’s receptivity.
 

“How’s Rocco sleeping?” Dr. Kimble asked.

“He’s not sleeping with his girlfriend,” Angel answered.

Max frowned and added, “He’s been crashing in the bunkroom.”

“All right. I’m going to request his file from Walter Reed.”

Kit lifted his brows then tilted his head. “Good luck with that. Not sure Rocco will be willing to have you see that stuff.”

“I have a signed release form from him as part of his new patient package.” Dr. Kimble stood up, ending the meeting. “I’ll just get that going, then I’ll come over to chat with him.” He shook hands with Kit and Angel. “You know, Rocco has something very powerful going for him that a lot of vets don’t: a band of brothers who love him and who stay in his business.” He looked around at the group as they stood near the door. “He may not appreciate it right now, but when he gets past this crisis, maybe past a dozen other crises, he’ll thank you for that.”

“Rocco,” Kit said, breaking into Rocco’s concentration. “Dr. Kimble is upstairs to see you.”

“Why? I don’t see him again until next week.”

“I asked him to come over and talk to you.”

“Why?”

Kit held up the bullet he’d gotten from Angel. “Because of this.”

“Fuck that. There are a few thousand rounds of them in the weapons room. What’s the big deal about one bullet?”

“That’s something you can talk to Dr. Kimble about.”

“I don’t feel like it.”
 

“I don’t care. It’s a direct order. Get up there and talk to him.”
 

Rocco shut the notebook he’d been writing in and slammed it down on the conference table as he got to his feet. “You know, Kit, you’re a pain in my ass.”

“I’m okay with that.” Kit held up the bullet. “I’m not okay with this.”

Rocco took the stairs up to the den, intending to show the doctor to the door, then get back to work. Sounded like a good plan, but when he reached the living room, Dr. Kimble was chatting with Zavi. Wynn was standing nearby.
 

“Papa!” Zavi ran to him. He picked his boy up and hugged him. “Uncle Kit got me out of school to meet the doctor.” Zavi leaned back to look at Rocco. “Dr. Kimble doesn’t give shots, so you don’t have to be afraid of him.”

Rocco smiled, then set him down.

“C’mon, Zavi. Back to class for you,” Wynn said, reaching out a hand, but Zavi had already skipped ahead.
 

Rocco turned his focus to the shrink. “Dr. Kimble.”

“You have an awesome son.”

Rocco ignored that. “Why are you here?”

“Your friends were worried about you.”

Rocco sighed. That fucking bullet.
 

“Would you like to take a walk outside? It’s a beautiful day. I find the sunshine to be a marvelous mood enhancer.”

Rocco gritted his teeth. Might as well give Kimble his hour. It was easier than dealing with a pissed-off Kit. He walked over and opened one of the French doors, holding it for the doctor. They went across the patio and out onto the lawn.
 

“I’ve driven past this estate many times over the years, but I’ve never been up here. It’s even more impressive up close.”

Rocco didn’t say anything. Small talk was a waste of time.

“Tell me about the bullet, Rocco.”

“It’s a bullet, doc, like any other.”

“No, it’s not. It’s your bullet. The one with your name on it. I had one of those.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn cartridge. “I still have it. It reminds me every day of the choice I made.”

Rocco still said nothing. He wasn’t so easily baited.

“Let’s talk about death. It’s walking along with us; might as well not ignore it.”

“I don’t want to talk about death.”

“Why not? We all die, sooner or later. No need to fear it. It’s a natural part of life.”

Rocco stayed quiet.

“The people who love you are afraid you want to check out early. Do you?”

Rocco shoved his hands into his pockets. His sigh was heavy. “No.” He looked over at the old guy. Age had taken some of his stature, but his blue eyes were still sharp. “You think you can save me.”

Kimble smiled. “No, not really. Only you can do that.”

“How many people in this little podunk town have you saved from suicide?”

Kimble tilted his head and thought about that. “In Wolf Creek Bend? A handful. But I’ve counseled thousands, sometimes more than once.” He looked at Rocco. “I volunteer three nights a week for a suicide prevention hotline. I like to think I’ve helped them. Sadly, I have more repeat clients than I’d hoped. But I’ve really only saved one person: me.” Kimble stopped walking. “Why do you want to die, Rocco?”

An image flashed through Rocco’s mind of his dead infant alone in heaven, abandoned by her mother. Moisture pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t make the words come out of his mouth. It hurt too goddamned much.
 

“It’s safe, you know, to tell me.”

No, it wasn’t.
 

Kimble started walking again. “Let’s say that living or dying is your choice, and yours alone.” He sent Rocco a quick glance. “It isn’t, you know. But let’s say it is, for the sake of our discussion. What provisions have you made for your son once you’re gone?”

“My girlfriend, Mandy, will take care of him.”

“No, he’ll automatically become a ward of the state. He has no blood relatives in this country, right? He might be sent back to Afghanistan to live with relatives there. Or Mandy could petition the state to be his foster mother, and after that, perhaps, to adopt him. But those things take time. So not only will the ones you love have to deal with losing you, but they’ll have to deal with the heartache of losing Zavi, too.”

Rocco frowned. Once the government got its hands on Zavi, they wouldn’t let go. They already knew what his linguistic skills were. They would raise him to be a tool against their enemies. His boy would live in his father’s hell. “Mandy can adopt him.”

“Perhaps, but that would be difficult, since you aren’t married. Maybe you could appoint her as Zavi’s guardian in the event something happens to you, but that takes time…time your bullet doesn’t want you to take.”

Rocco sighed. He did have some shit he had to put in order.

“I tell you what.” The doc stopped and looked at him. “While you get your affairs in order, you agree to see me every day. And we’ll swap bullets. You hold mine, and I’ll hold yours. When you want it back, you can have it. Until then, we’ll see if we can unscramble this. Maybe there’s another solution.”