Page 41 of Carter

Brett senses John’s and my concern. “Look, fellas. I’m fine. Truly, I am. I just get these pains every⁠—”

Without warning, Brett’s doubled over. He’s making a strange groaning sound and he’s holding his left arm.

I meet John’s gaze. “He needs medical attention. Now.”

Fear flashes in John’s eyes. Brett is like a father to him. He’s been mentoring John for years. I feel a pang in my own chest at the look on John’s face. “Let’s get him to a hospital.”

“Of course.” I leave them and go to the driver, telling him to get us to the nearest dock. I call for an ambulance, giving them directions of where to meet the boat. Then I pace the small floor, while John sits, his arm around a moaning Brett.

This is bad.

I call Tess. I call Rockland. I call Bronson.

They will all be at the hospital before us.

We shouldn’t have let him come.

But how could we have known? Hell—his ailment isn’t even from the mission. It’s the result of too much fat and sugar over the years. I’ve told him, how many times, to come down to Barbells and get on a treadmill? He’s one of the most lethal men I know. And now, his life is at risk because of his love of street food and overeating his wife’s cooking.

My anger is misplaced. I love the man and I’m worried.

I run my hand through my hair. We are pulling up to the dock. The ambulance is waiting. Its lights flash red, its sirens wail in the night.

There’s a stretcher and three EMTs. John and I each duck under one of Brett’s massive shoulders, hoisting him from the bench and helping him out of the boat. His face is colorless. His eyes glassy. The EMTs take over, and moments later, he’s in the ambulance and the doors are closing. They pull away and John and I are left standing, watching the red lights disappear.

There will already be three Bachmans at the hospital, waiting for Brett.

John’s thinking what I’m thinking, and his voice is thick as he says, “There’s not much we can do now, except get in the way. Let’s go see if we’ve missed that boat.” He swallows hard and when he gives the driver directions, his hands are trembling.

John wants nothing more than to be at the hospital with Brett. Watching over him in case the situation takes a dark turn.

He can’t be there.

He needs to be here.

This is the Bachman way.

We have work to do. The Village is still counting on us to secure this tie with the senator. And personally, we need this information.

We stand on the boat, holding onto the rails, as we glide over the water. As we gain speed, the cold air turns bitter against my face. I pull my jacket tight around my torso. We’re looking for the other boat, but there’s no one in sight. John tells the driver to slow to a stop. We’ll sit and wait a bit.

I want to comfort my brother. Tell him Brett will pull through. But the words won’t form in my mouth.

I gaze over the water, searching.

A heavy silence hangs between us. Neither of us want to speak of Brett.

John clears his throat. I know what John will say before he asks it. With Brett gone, he goes into older brother mode, asking about my life, keeping his mind off his ailing father figure. “How are things with Sasha?”

“Excellent.” And they have been. I try to play it cool, but a smile stretches across my face. I can’t hide it from him anyway—he’s always known how crazy I am for her. Things are finally right between her and me.

He smiles back. “Good to hear. And how are things going with the lifestyle changes?”

“Also excellent.” I give him a nod. “Everything is as it should be.”

“And she couldn’t be happier?”

“Yes. Except one thing.” The issue that’d been nagging me for weeks comes into my head and for whatever reason, I always spill my thoughts when I’m with John. “Sasha has an… idea.”