CHAPTER 10—BULLHEADED DONOVAN

Six people sat in the conference room, trying to decide what step needed to taken next.  Donovan was sitting at the table.  His neck and head were still killing him even after popping more painkillers.  His team was afraid that he might have gotten a cracked skull or something.  Whatever the case, they knew he needed medical attention, but he refused.  Every now and then, Donovan would try to focus his eyes on his brother's face.  Cody and Alex had cuffed Farron to a chair arm at the conference table.  Donovan was glad that he was seated at the opposite end, because he couldn't look at him yet.  This man of his own flesh and blood, who was a supreme fuck up, had actually made him feel guilty.  He had dragged his wife into this, and God help him, but Farron's words made sense.  If he had listened to him, if he had allowed him to speak, Loralei wouldn't have been in danger at all.  He grumbled incoherently under his breath.  Farron was still playing games, still trying to act the innocent victim in all this.  He had tried to take away from what he'd done and focus the blame on someone else.  It was Farron's way, even when the men were children.  Yes, Farron's move was noble, and he appreciated it greatly.  Yet, instead of taking the good deed to heart, Farron had acted smugly, as if his intention was only to best him.  The comments had hurt him greatly.  There was nothing Donovan feared more than failing his wife and child.  Tonight, Farron made him feel as if he had done exactly that.  If his head weren't swimming so severely, if his neck wasn't aching like a mother, he would get up close and personal with Farron again.

Donovan felt the pain spiraling up again, threatening to take him over.  Goddamn, what did he do to me, he thought.  His vision grayed suddenly and then corrected itself.  He had no time to be injured.  They had to intervene with the Ortiz gang and break them up.  There was also the matter of Mateo Luis to consider.  Donovan's foggy brain went back to the night he had taken five bullets for his brother.  Farron had turned state's evidence and received immunity.  He wasn't sure that his brother would be so lucky this time.  He wasn't even sure he wanted his brother to be so lucky.  It was time for Farron to face the music once and for all.  He needed to pay for everything he had done.  Uh, God, he thought.  The pain was incredibly sickening.  Would it ever go away?  He couldn't think like this, couldn't work like this.

From the corner of the room, Alex looked up at Donovan.  Something didn't seem quite right.  His head was buried into his hands, and he seemed unable to move.  She cursed his stubbornness.  He needed to go to the hospital, but he wouldn't.  He hadn't even told his wife he was injured.  She couldn't understand how Loralei handled his bullheaded inflexibility.  Of course, Loralei had a bit of that in herself as well.  Perhaps that's how she deals with it, Alex thought.  Concerned now, she stood and walked over to the boss.  He hadn't moved for several minutes. 

Alex stepped up to Donovan.  "Boss?  Are you okay?"  She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Donovan's body slid out of the chair and suddenly dropped to the floor.  "Shit," Alex cried.  "Get over here, something is wrong!" 

It didn't take long for Donovan to come around, but his head continued to swim sickly.  Farron had tried to assist his fallen brother, but he had forgotten momentarily that he was cuffed to the chair.  Donovan blinked his eyes stupidly and glanced around the room.  It seemed as if a sea of faces surrounded him.  He could hardly breathe. 

"That does it, Donovan, you're going to the ER," Jake spat.

He groaned and tried to shake his head, but movement was impossible.  His neck was growing stiffer by the second.  "No.  No ER.  I'm fine," he insisted.

"Fine my ass," Cody said.  "People who are fine don't take swan dives out of their chairs, Boss."

"Move back and give him some air," Alex said.

Stubbornly, Donovan spat, "Just help me up, and I'll be fine.  It's the whiplash, nothing more."

"Donovan, whiplash doesn't make you pass out.  There's something else going on, maybe a concussion.  You need medical attention, and it's only going to worsen if you don't do something."

He tried to focus his eyes on Alex's face, but it was difficult.  Suddenly, his eyeballs felt hot and swollen.  "No ER," he said.  "I won't have it.  Help me up."

"You need assistance to stand, for crying out loud," Monica spat.  "And you're fine?"

"Very well," he spat through clenched teeth.  "I'll do it." 

Donovan sat up on his own, without assistance, to show them just how fine he was.  It was a mistake, of course, because the pain in his neck began to scream bloody murder at him.  He had ruined his hand on Farron's face.  His brother should have been the one who needed the ER after what he had done to him.  Yet, all it had taken to cold cock him was a fire extinguisher to the nape of the neck.  Dirty fighter.  Dirty, dirty fighter.  Sucker punched me.  Grabbing the leg of one of the chairs, he slowly pulled his body up to his feet.  The pain in his neck rocked him again, and he placed a steadying hand on the back of the chair.  His vision grayed yet again, and he thought he was going to pitch forward onto the table.  He fixed his eyes on Farron's face.  His twin was watching him curiously, with great concern.  Fucker did this to me. 

"Why, Farron?  Why do you continue to do this to me?  Why hurt me over and over again," he asked suddenly, viciously.  "I am no good to this team, to my wife, like this.  You do a good deed, presumably from the heart, only to rub my face in it.  I will not allow you to incapacitate me.  Do you understand?  I will not allow it to happen again."  

"Listen to your team.  Listen to someone.  You've never listened to me," Farron shot back.  "I offer help, and you deny it.  Of course, I'm going to be smug, because I was right, and you were wrong.  It's simple.  Even in your condition, you should understand that."

"When this is over, when I know that my wife and daughter are safe and sound, I'm going to kill you; maybe not physically, but symbolically.  There was never a Farron Donovan, only a Mateo Luis.  Farron Donovan does not exist to me right now.  He never will again.  I will turn you over to the DEA, CIA, and fucking FBI, and let them have you for the rest of your life.  Maybe then, I can finally have a normal existence without the pain of living with your betrayal.  When we were younger, this shit only affected me, but now, I have two other people to think about.  You have embroiled Loralei and our child into your sewer of deceit and lies.  If you haven't figured it out by now, she means everything to me.  I have broken many promises due to your misdeeds, and I hate you for it."

The immense pain drove him back and away from Farron.  He honestly didn't know how long he could hold out.  Dizzy now, he took careful steps over to the middle of the room and approached one of the plushy chairs.  He sank gratefully into its comfort and tried to lean his head back.  The pain wouldn't let him.  He sat forward, to keep his neck from making contact with the chair.  During his tirade, he had totally forgotten about the team.  They stood gape mouthed and incredulous.  "Set up the meeting with Dominguez, Jake," Donovan said, his voice seemingly coming from his far, far away place.  "We have to get to Ortiz.  If we have him, the whole operation will fall."  Without warning, Donovan fell face first onto the floor.

"Goddamn it," Jake spat.  "Come on, Cody, let's take him to his room."

"Whatever you do," Monica said, "Don't let him go to sleep."

Together, Cody and Jake lifted Donovan's body off the floor and supported his weight between them.  He was coming around again, slowly.  He was mumbling what sounded like curses and refusals to go to the hospital.  Alex stood watch until the three men were out of sight.  Donovan would not willingly go to the hospital.  She was thinking of doing something that would mean completely crossing the line, going out of bounds.  She wasn't sure the boss would ever forgive her, but she couldn't help it.  The only person who could get through to him was Loralei.  Farron was the key to finding her, and she would get the contact information from him even if it meant another beating from her.

Slowly, she approached Donovan's twin brother and sat in the chair nearest him.  He looked at her with little interest.  He didn't trust federales, even pretty ones.  "You see the condition he's in, don't you?  He has to see a doctor or he'll never make it through this.  We need him on our team to help close this case.  The key to that is his wife.  She is the only person he will listen to.  On any other day, for any other situation, I wouldn't even think of trying to nose into Donovan's personal life, but this is the exception to the rule.  Tell me how to contact Loralei.  If she can talk to him, he just might get the medical attention he needs."

He shook his head.  "Ah, you're asking for yet another betrayal.  I don't know you. Agent Cross, is it?  How do I know you're not one of Ortiz's drug addicts?  Does Frank really need another reason to hate me?"

"Listen to me," she spat emphatically.  "If you love your brother, you'll give me that number.  Loralei needs to know that he's injured and refusing medical attention.  He won't go without her push.  He's too stubborn to listen to us, and he certainly won't listen to you."

*  *  *

Anya Donovan Marcello crept into the guest bedroom that she had fixed up for Loralei.  Her daughter was snuggled against Loralei and the two of them were deeply asleep.  She pulled Bianca from Loralei's arms and quietly carried her to her room.  She came back to Loralei and leaned over her.  She shook Loralei gently, whispering her name at the same time.  Loralei came awake slowly, cautiously.  When she had drifted off, Anya's little one was curled up next to her.  She began searching for the little girl.

"I took her back to her bed," Anya said.  "You have a phone call."

She sat up and scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes.  "A phone call?  Is it Frank?"

Anya shook her head.  "No.  It's someone named Alex."

Loralei nodded solemnly, expecting the worse, as she climbed out of bed and shrugged into a robe Anya had let her borrow.  She followed her sister in-law into the kitchen where the phone lay dangling by its cord.  She picked it up and held it to her ear.  What had happened now?  "Alex?  What is it?"

"Loralei, your husband is going to kill me once he finds out I did this, but he lied to you earlier.  He's hurt, and from the looks of it, he probably has a concussion.  We have all tried to get him to the ER, but he won't go.  Right now, you're our last hope."

Her stubborn, stubborn husband.  Concerned now, she asked, "Can you get him to the phone?"

"I'll try to transfer the call to his room.  Jake and Cody are in with him now, keeping him awake."

*  *  *

The phone rang, and Cody nearly jumped right out of his skin.  "Damn, why are hotel phones so loud."  He grabbed the receiver.  "Donovan's room.  Hello?"

"Cody, it's Loralei.  How is Frank?"

He glanced at the boss and noticed that he was at least conscious.  "He's lucid, but not good."

"Give him the phone."

He's in trouble now, Cody thought.  He passed the phone to Donovan.  "I think you'll want to take this call."

Confused, Donovan looked up at Cody.  Who would be calling at this ungodly hour during his tremendous headache?  "Donovan.  What is it?"

She could hear the pain in his voice.  It was obvious.  She was glad Cody hadn't told him who it was.  If he had, Donovan would have put on his stubborn hat and worn it proudly.  "It's me, baby."

His eyebrows drew together, and his forehead wrinkled.  It was the look that Donovan typically displayed when stressed or pissed or both.  "Loralei?  What are you doing?"

"You're hurt.  Don't tell me you're not.  I can hear it in your voice.  I should have known that you were when I spoke to you earlier.  Let them take you to the ER, Frank, you need help."

"No," he spat, "I'm fine.  I told you.  No ER."

"Frank, please.  Go to the hospital.  Stop being so damn stubborn and do it."

"No.  Get off the phone, Loralei, it's not safe."

"No," she spat just as stubbornly.  "I'm not hanging up.  In fact, if you don't go, I'll drive back right now and take you myself."

Suddenly, the pain in his head shifted to his heart.  "You would, wouldn't you?  You're not to leave there, for any reason, even for me.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, clearly, but you went into gung ho protective mode, and didn't exactly tell me the truth, Frank.  You said you weren't hurt, but you are.  Goddamn it, baby, go to the hospital.  If you don't, I'll be out the door and there in an hour.  I swear to God, Frank, I'll do it."

He closed his eyes tightly against the pain attacking his entire body.  "I'll go," he said grudgingly.  "Get off the phone, Loralei."

"Take care of yourself, Frank," she said shakily.  "If you don't want to do it for you, do it for us.  I want our little girl to know her father.  If you keep up this stubborn shit, she might not.  And I can't live with that thought."

He tried to shake his head, but his neck wouldn't allow it.  "Neither can I, Loralei.  I'll go, I told you.  I just want you off the phone.  I don't know who might be listening." 

"Don't think I won't find out if you don't go.  I love you."

He wanted to return the sentiment, but she hung up the phone before he could.  Goddamn.  He wanted this shit to be over.  He wanted to be able to relax, to see his wife steadily, to sleep with her, to hold her in his arms.  Goddamn.  Goddamn.  Donovan replaced the phone and focused his tired eyes on Jake and Cody.  "Take…me…to…the…fucking…hospital," he spat emphatically through clenched teeth.  This was one delay he did not need.  Cody and Jake walked with Donovan to the conference room to announce that they were taking him to the ER. 

Before Donovan stepped one foot further, he looked at every person in the room, including Farron.  "Who called her?  She wouldn't have known if someone hadn't called.  Jake and Cody were with me.  Farron is cuffed and can't move.  That leaves only two people," he said as he focused his eyes on Monica and Alex.  "And one of you would have had to get the number from my brother.  Which of you did this?"

"Fuck it, Donovan, I don't care to admit it.  I got the number from your brother, and I called her.  She's the only person who you'll listen to.  She's the only person who seems to be able to get through to you.  You said it yourself.  You're no good to her, or to us like this.  If you want to bitch me out, go for it, but I'm not going to apologize for calling her.  She's your wife, Frank, she had the right to know."

"Come on people, we don't have time to argue," Cody said suddenly.  "If he decides to take another not-so-graceful swan dive, I don't want him falling on me."

"Jake, you stay here," Donovan said, "you have work to do, and I don't want to risk your cover getting blown.  Monica can help."

"You sure," Jake asked. 

"Yes.  This game isn't over, and won't be for a long time to come."

*  *  *

Alex, Jake, and Farron remained in the conference room waiting to hear word on Donovan.  Farron impatiently tugged at the cuff.  Another thought entered his mind, and it was quite disturbing.  "Release me," he said suddenly.

Jake glanced at Farron and gave him an incredulous look.  "Release you?  I don't think so, man.  I don't want the boss to do to me what he did to you."

Farron shook his head.  The swelling had finally begun to go down in his eye, and he thought he might be able to take the patch off in a few hours.  "You don't understand.  I know these men; I worked with them for years.  They're too smart for you.  Have you given one thought to the possibility that my former hermanos might have followed them to the hospital?  Have you thought that someone may attack him while he recovers?  You must release me so I can help.  Who better to catch them than Mateo Luis?"

Jake's incredulous gaze never wavered.  "If you actually listen to this guy, he makes sense," he said sarcastically.  "Stop running your game.  I've seen this a thousand times.  We release you, you run back to your gang, and our whole operation is blown to bits."

He laughed bitterly.  "I brought Frank's el pedazo permanente (permanent piece) back to him.  Why would I bother if I only wanted to run back?  Frank has poisoned your minds against me.  I was right about his wife, and I'm right about this.  Your refusal will lead to his death."

"For someone who craves credibility, you surely know how to fuck it up by disrespecting your sister in-law," Jake challenged.  "Cierre el labio, o yo lo haré para usted."  ("Zip your lip, or I'll do it for you.")

"Los tipos duros," (tough guys), "how you all sicken me.  Without your guns, you're nothing."

*  *  *

Donovan was admitted into the hospital a couple of hours later.  The hospital personnel were very worried about the head injury and blackout spells.  There was a serious possibility of some type of skull fracture or brain injury.  Donovan was sent for an immediate CAT scan, and he lay impatiently in bed awaiting the results.  Cody couldn't keep his hands off the hospital equipment and Monica was busily trying to keep him away from it as if he were a wayward child.  Donovan knew they were trying to keep him awake.  Head injuries and too much sleep did not mix.  He wanted out of the hospital, and he was more than pissed at Alex for calling his wife.  There was nothing wrong with him, nothing that getting this case closed wouldn't fix.

*  *  *

Rosa Perez was a candy striper with aspirations to become a nurse.  However, Ms. Perez also had a nice little monkey wrapped tightly around her neck.  Her boyfriend ran with cocaine traffickers, and he often brought home samples that they would share.  She wouldn't admit it, but she had quite the habit developing.  Her boyfriend ran with Pablo Dominguez and his cronies.  She saw the tall man with the short black hair as he was taken to triage.  It was Mateo.  He had cut his hair off and trimmed down his beard to a neat goatee, but she had no trouble recognizing him.  She wondered why he didn't recognize her.  She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  She had no idea that Mateo was Pablo's target, but that night when she met her boyfriend, she mentioned seeing Mateo.  The poor man looked quite ill. 

*  *  *

"Las noticias buenas," ("Good news.") Ortiz said into the phone.  He glanced over at Dominguez.  "Usted sabe lo que hacer."  ("You know what to do.")

*  *  *

Donovan was relieved with his CAT scan came back clear.  He had basically just sustained a bad knock on the head, and would recover without any complications.  They wanted to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days to watch him, and he grudgingly agreed.  He had no intention of not honoring his promise to Loralei.  He would not have her coming back.  Later that night, he fell asleep without few cares.  He didn't notice the looming figure in the hallway.  He wasn't an imposing figure, or even a suspicious one.  He was wearing hospital scrubs and looked like any typical hospital employee, but he was not.  Pablo Dominguez smiled.  El tiempo para devuelve.  (Time for payback).