Stubborn Heart (25 page)

That would make one hell of a porn movie
, Mark thought as he watched the two of them together. It was amazing how similar their features were. He jumped in surprise as Trevor grabbed one of his ass cheeks. He turned to look at Trevor and blushed. The mischievous gleam in his eyes made Mark feel as though Trevor had read his thoughts. He took a large gulp of his drink and looked away, embarrassed.

Trevor reached over and turned Mark’s face back to his own. He cupped the back of Mark’s head and pressed their lips together. Mark wrapped his arms around Trevor and pulled him closer.

Derrick interrupted them by placing a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Okay, I see the warning signs. I know you two are getting ready to bail on me. Let’s go downstairs for one dance before you do.”

Trevor and Mark both grinned at him. They followed closely behind as Derrick led Terry down the stairs. The downstairs bar was more crowded than the upstairs area. The dance floor was nothing more than an open section at one end of the bar. On it, masses of people moved to the beat of the music. The crowd was so thick that it was like bees in a hive.

Undaunted, Derrick pulled Terry into the middle of the swarming mass. They wrapped their arms around one another and began moving in a small circle. Mark thought he caught Derrick’s eye once, then he and Terry were lost in themselves and the music.

“Good thing we’re not claustrophobic,” Mark said as he turned and wrapped his arms around Trevor’s waist. Mark rested his head against Trevor’s neck as the bigger man pulled him closer. Trevor shifted to kiss Mark’s temple. For a while they were content just to hold one another and watch the people dancing.

A mutual glance told both that they were ready to leave. Trevor looked around to find Derrick, but he couldn’t see him.
Probably already gone
, he thought. He took Mark by the hand, and they walked toward the exit.

The night air was even colder now. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked briskly down the deserted sidewalk. Both men shivered from the cold. Mark sighed in relief as his car came into sight. They picked up their pace, almost sprinting toward the car.

Chapter 25

“S
TOP
right there,” a rough voice ordered.

Both Trevor and Mark looked up and froze in place. A tall, hulking man stepped out in front of them. He was dressed from head to toe in black. A stocking cap covered his entire head except for two holes for his eyes. He raised his arm and aimed a large pistol at them.

“Give me your wallets,” he demanded, waving the gun at them.

“Listen,” Trevor said, trying to project calmness in his voice. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Don’t make me say it again,” the man thundered. He pointed the gun directly at Trevor.

“Just do what he says,” Mark pleaded through clenched teeth.

Trevor glanced over at Mark and saw the frightened look in his eyes. He nodded and reached into his back pocket, then pulled out the wallet. Trevor extended his hand toward the man, mere inches from the gun pointing straight at him. Without blinking or shifting his gaze from Trevor, the man knocked the wallet from his hand. It landed on the ground near Mark’s feet.

“Pick it up,” the mugger barked.

Mark turned and leaned over to pick up the wallet. As he did, the man shoved him roughly with the heel of his boot. Before he had time to break his fall, Mark struck his head on the bumper of a car. Dazed, he sank to the ground. Trevor lunged at the attacker as he took a step toward Mark.

A large pop jolted Mark out of his stupor. He looked up to see the man running down the street in the opposite direction. Without thinking, he reached over and picked up the wallet lying near where he had fallen. He slipped it into his pocket, confused when he realized he already had his wallet. He shook his head a couple of times, trying to clear his mind.
Why is my face wet?
he thought as he reached up to wipe the moisture out of his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath as he realized it was blood.

“Trevor?” he called, looking out into the street. Where was Trevor? Mark glanced up and down the street. He turned around and his heart stopped.

Trevor lay on the sidewalk. He wasn’t moving. Mark hurried over to his side. A large pool of blood had formed around Trevor’s left shoulder. Fumbling in his pocket, Mark pulled out his phone. He forced himself to breathe and stay focused. He dropped down to his knees and ripped Trevor’s shirt open with his free hand. Pushing the shirt out of the way, Mark found two neat holes in Trevor’s shoulder, one in front and one in back. He yanked off his own shirt and used it to try to slow down the bleeding from Trevor’s wounds. He applied pressure as best he could while he told the emergency dispatcher what had happened.

Mark shoved the phone back in his pocket and pulled Trevor’s head onto his lap. He used the palm of one hand to push Trevor’s shoulder against his thigh, compressing both wounds. The blood flow slowed as he applied pressure. Watching for signs that the ambulance was coming, he took in a deep breath. He placed two fingers on Trevor’s neck. His pulse seemed to be getting weaker. After what seemed like an eternity, Mark saw flashing lights in the distance.

A
T
THE
hospital, a pair of nurses met the ambulance as it backed into the emergency room entrance. Mark had insisted they go to Atlanta General. The nurses and one of the paramedics rushed Trevor through the doors and into the emergency department. Mark tried to follow, but was detained by the other paramedic.

“They’ll take good care of him,” the paramedic soothed. “You need to get checked out.”

“I’m fine!” Mark protested, looking at the doors through which Trevor had disappeared.

“We need to make sure. Please, walk over this way.” The paramedic led Mark over to a chair and sat him down. He waved his hand, and one of the nurses walked over to take a look at Mark and get him registered.

“Sir, I’m going to take your vital signs and take a look at your head,” the nurse said, reaching down to wrap a blood pressure cuff around Mark’s arm. Her mouth dropped open as he looked up at her. “Hey! This is Mark from upstairs!” she called to a nurse sitting behind the desk.

The other nurse was on his feet immediately and pushed a stretcher over. In spite of his protests, they insisted that Mark get on the stretcher. He was wheeled back and placed in a room to be examined. His face and head were cleaned. Someone brought him a pair of scrubs to change into and helped him clean off some of the blood that seemed to be everywhere.

The attending physician on duty took a perfunctory look at the gash on Mark’s forehead. He was a tall, handsome man in his midforties. He introduced himself as Dr. Davis. He pulled back the makeshift bandage on Mark’s head.

“I just need to take a quick look at the wound so I know what to tell the plastic surgeon.” Dr. Davis smiled as he patted Mark’s shoulder. “We usually let Plastics manage the facial cuts.” He flipped that bandage back over the wound and turned to leave.

“Wait. Please,” Mark said hoarsely.

Dr. Davis stopped and turned around.

“Can you check on Trevor?” Mark asked.

A confused expression crossed the doctor’s face. “Do you mean the John Doe with the gunshot wound?” he asked.

“That’s not a John Doe!” Mark said, more loudly than he intended. He sat upright on the stretcher. “His name is Trevor Hayes. He’s the chief cardiothoracic fellow.”

“He’s probably still in surgery,” Dr. Davis said, gently pushing Mark to lie back. “You stay here and try to rest. I’ll call up and see if I can find out anything.”

As soon as the physician left the room, Mark pulled his phone out of the bag. He dialed Derrick’s number and told him what had happened. He was interrupted by two policemen who came to ask questions and get his statement. Dr. Davis returned a few moments later and told him Trevor was still in surgery. The plastic surgeon came in and sutured the laceration on Mark’s forehead. As soon as she finished sewing up his wound, a nurse brought Derrick into the treatment room.

A
N
HOUR
later, Mark was discharged from the emergency department. He allowed Derrick to push him in the wheelchair until they got to the elevators. Then he insisted that he be allowed to walk on his own. They took the elevators up to the surgery waiting room. Derrick told the nurse on duty who they were, and they found seats in the waiting room.

“Mark,” a voice called out loudly.

Mark looked up to see a tall, lanky man wearing green scrubs and a surgical cap striding toward him. Involuntarily, he stood up and stepped forward to greet the man. “Hi, Dr. Whittaker,” he said, extending his hand.

“I’ve told you before to call me Pete,” the man said, grasping Mark’s hand and giving it a hearty shake.

Mark introduced Pete to Derrick, and they exchanged greetings. Pete turned back to Mark.

“Everything went really well,” Pete explained. “The bullet went all the way through Trevor’s shoulder, which made the wound pretty easy to repair. He lost a lot of blood, but other than that, everything looks good.”

Mark nodded and then sat back down in one of the chairs. He placed his hand over his mouth and stared straight forward. His face was pale and his expression blank. Quickly, Derrick moved to sit by his side and placed a hand on Mark’s thigh. Pete knelt in front of Mark, placed a hand on either shoulder, and pushed him back slightly. Mark looked over at him.

“Mark,” Pete said, looking him right in the eyes. “I told you Trevor is fine. When I left, he was wide awake and asking for you.”

Mark nodded and started to stand. His expression was still blank. Pete still held onto his shoulders to keep him sitting.

“Wait right here for now,” Pete instructed. “Let me make sure he’s settled in the recovery room and you can see him there.” He stood and walked back through the doors to the operating room.

“Mark, say something,” Derrick said as he shifted in the chair to face Mark. He reached over and took Mark’s hands into his own.

Mark turned to look at Derrick, his eyes growing wide. He shook his head slowly, as if afraid to speak. Derrick wrapped his arms around Mark, and Mark rested his head on Derrick’s shoulder. For a few seconds nothing happened, and Derrick almost let go. Then Mark made a small sound in his throat. Derrick tightened his embrace around his friend. Mark’s body began to shake as he sobbed uncontrollably, finally able to release some of the emotions he had been holding inside. Derrick held him and gently rocked back and forth, cradling Mark until his sobs settled down to soft sniffles. After a couple of minutes, Mark began to compose himself.

A nurse brought out a washcloth for Mark to wipe his face. He and Derrick followed her back to the recovery area. She led them to a section where the curtains had been drawn for privacy. Trevor opened his eyes as soon as the curtain was pulled back.

“Son of a bitch! He did hurt you,” Trevor cursed as he looked at the bandage on Mark’s forehead above his right eye. His face screwed up in pain as he tried to sit up, reaching out for Mark.

“I’m fine,” Mark said as he hurried over to the stretcher. He gently pushed against Trevor’s chest, forcing him to lie back on the stretcher. He scooped Trevor’s hands into his own. He felt the start of fresh tears as he saw Trevor’s expression.

“I’m so sorry he hurt you,” Trevor said, looking down. “I tried to protect you.”

Mark stared at Trevor in disbelief. “You did protect me, you big goof. You’re the one who got shot here.”

“How bad is your head?” Trevor asked, pointing at the bandage above Mark’s eye.

“My head is fine!” Mark fussed as he held onto Trevor’s hands. “You’re the one we need to worry about.”

“As long as you are okay, then I’m fine,” Trevor said as he raised Mark’s hands to his lips. A tear ran down Trevor’s cheek as he kissed each hand.

The curtain parted and a nurse poked her head in. “I’m going to give you little bit more pain medicine in a minute,” she said softly, smiling. “You need your rest and the medicine should help you drift back off to sleep.”

Trevor nodded and looked up at Derrick. “Can you keep an eye on Mark and make sure he’s okay while I’m asleep?”

“Yes. Of course I will.” Derrick smiled, brushing the hair back from Trevor’s forehead.

Mark felt his breath catch and he looked away, still holding onto Trevor’s hands.

The nurse returned and injected the medication into the intravenous line running into Trevor’s forearm. “They should have a room ready for him pretty soon,” she said as she pulled the curtain closed around them.

“You have to kiss me good night.” Trevor tugged at Mark’s hands, grinning. The medicine was obviously starting to take effect.

Mark leaned over and tenderly kissed Trevor’s lips. “Good night, Goofy,” he whispered. He held Trevor’s hands long after he had drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 26