Chapter 2 - The Midnight Spasms
Two weeks later, the reality of the job had settled into her bones like lead.
It was not simply checking vital signs or administering nerve blockers. It was the crushing daily grind of managing a human body that refused to cooperate with its owner’s commands.
At 3:00 a.m., the compound was silent.
Sadi sat in a corner of Desmond’s expansive bedroom, reading a paperback beneath the light of a small desk lamp while rain lashed against the bulletproof windows.
A sharp intake of breath came from the bed.
Sadi dropped the book.
She reached Desmond in three seconds.
He was awake. His chest heaved. His hands gripped the silk sheet until his knuckles turned bone white. His jaw was locked in agony.
"Spasm?"
Her voice was low and professional.
He managed a stiff nod.
The damage to his severed spinal cord had done more than paralyze him. It caused phantom pain and violent muscle spasms that twisted his dead legs into knots he could not properly feel, yet somehow still experienced as blinding agony inside his brain.
Sadi threw back the covers.
His right leg was jumping, muscles contracting violently against the bone.
"Okay. I’ve got you."
She did not hesitate. She climbed onto the edge of the mattress and planted her hands firmly over his thigh and calf, applying heavy downward pressure. She leaned her entire body weight into him, fighting the violent jerking of his leg.
Desmond squeezed his eyes shut. His head rolled back against the pillows.
A harsh, guttural groan escaped him.
He hated this.
He hated being seen weak and writhing, completely at the mercy of a girl who barely weighed a hundred and twenty pounds.
"Breathe, Desmond."
It was the first time she had not called him Mr. Gallagher.
"It won’t stop," he forced through clenched teeth.
Sweat beaded across his forehead.
"It will. Give it a minute."
She adjusted her grip. The physical effort was enormous. His leg was heavy dead weight animated by chaotic electrical signals.
"Talk to me. Distract yourself. Tell me why there are three locked rooms on the second floor."
"None of your business."
"Fine. Keep focusing on the pain, then. Great strategy."
A harsh breath punched out of him.
"Guns. Cash. Archives."
"Archives. Fancy word for blackmail?"
"Something like that."
The spasm peaked. His leg jerked violently and threw Sadi off balance. Her elbow caught him hard in the ribs.
"Shit. Sorry."
She scrambled to reset her grip and pin his leg down again.
Desmond released a breathless, broken laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"You’re a terrible nurse."
"I warned you."
She bore down against his shin.
"You hired me anyway. You get what you pay for."
Slowly, agonizingly, the violent movement subsided. The muscles unclenched. His leg became limp again.
Dead weight.
Sadi did not move away immediately. She remained kneeling on the bed with her hands resting against his shin, waiting for the chaotic firing of his nerves to settle.
Only their ragged breathing and the rain against the glass remained.
Desmond opened his eyes.
He looked at her.
Sadi wore an oversized faded band T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Her hair was tangled. There was no pity on her face. She was simply waiting to make certain the spasm did not return.
"You can get off my bed now."
Sadi released his leg and slid from the mattress. She replaced the covers and smoothed them.
"You need to increase the baclofen. The spasms are getting more frequent."
"No. The pills make my head cloudy. I can’t run a business with a cloudy head."
"You can’t run a business if you haven’t slept in three days because your legs are doing the Macarena all night."
"Do not mock my condition, Sadi."
"I’m mocking your stubbornness. Your condition is collateral damage."
She washed her hands at the sink in the corner and dried them before turning back to him.
"Take the pill, Desmond. I’m not going to sit here and watch you suffer for the sake of your ego."
He stared at the ceiling. The exhaustion on his face was profound.
The mafia boss. The ruthless killer. The man who could order hits with a flick of his wrist.
May you like
At that moment, he was simply a tired man trapped inside a broken body.
"One pill," he muttered.
