Renegade: The Alliance Chronicles, Book Six

Chapter 29

Asher

"A staunch friend is like a personal safe harbor, giving us encouragement, comfort, and support."

—from Sessions with Abigail Ramirez-Lee, Psy.D., P.C.

"Hey, you're awake!" Walking into the hospital room, I see Dr. Leslie Kapernecki by Mark's side.

He clears his throat. "Hey, man."

I forget about pretense and throw my arms around my friend. "Dude, it's good to see you."

"Told you I'd be back," he rasps, and his embrace is weak.

"Are you okay now? You will make a full recovery, right?"

Dr. Kapernecki smiles. "Don't mind the doctor in the room, Lieutenant."

"Sorry, Doc," I apologize. "I'm just happy to see this man. How is he doing?"

"He'll recover. He'll need some rehab. There's muscle damage in his left leg, but with proper therapy he should walk again. I'm trying to convince him to go home with me." She taps on a tablet and slides it into her lab coat. "I'll leave you two alone. Good to see you again, Lieutenant."

"Same here," I tell her.

As soon as the door closes, Mark and I rush to speak.

"You first, dude," I say.

He laughs. "It's damned good to see you."

Jerking my head toward the door, I ask, "What's up with you and Kapernecki?"

Mark shrugs and replies, "She wants me to move in with her for my rehab."

"That's all?"

"No." He grimaces. "I think she wants a relationship."

"Think?"

"She claims she only wants someone to keep her company. I call bullshit."

"Like what do you want?" Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, it hits me that I've never seen Mark truly interested in anyone.

"After this last mission, I don't know. A lot of shit happened down in Brazil. Stuff I wish I could forget."

As much as I'd like to ignore it, now might be the best time to clear things up. I reach inside my jacket and pull out the envelope. "Stuff like this?"

He reaches for the envelope and dumps the contents on his lap. Mark's face reddens. "Where did these come from?"

"My step-grandfather," I say, suppressing the embarrassment I'm feeling.

Mark's hand shakes slightly as he picks up one of the damning photos. "He set me up."

"No. Steve wouldn't—"

"He did, and I fell for it." Mark drops the picture in his hand and falls back on the pillow. "Take this shit away."

Gathering up the photos, I shove them back into the envelope. "Tell me what happened."

He presses his lips together as a pained look crosses his face. Mark lowers his eyes while he fiddles with the edge of the sheet. "That asshole drugged me. The only thing I remember is kissing him."

My body tenses. "When?"

"The first night I was in Los Alamos," he admits.

Usually, that scenario happens with women, but I suppose anyone could be vulnerable. It's not like date rape drugs are gender specific.