Painless by Derek Ciccone Read Free Book Online Page A

and fire. But you know the Iranians—everything’s a negotiation. If the three of them possibly survived, then they’d likely hold them for a future negotiation.”
    Naqui put the paper through a noisy shredder. “I also find it quite interesting that the three missing boys are all brothers.”
    Stipe had no answer for that one, just a nervous shrug.
    Naqui approached his patient, reaching into the wound with small pair of metal tongs. With a forceful tug, he removed the bullet. Even under the influence of the powerful pain cocktail, Stipe let out a scream that likely could be heard in Brooklyn. But he also seemed to be enjoying the primal-ness of the situation. Naqui thought it was the first honest thing to come out of his mouth the whole meeting.
    “What a mess,” Naqui mumbled with a sad shake of the head, the bullet wound a metaphor for the entire Iran situation.
    The pain actually seemed to invigorate Stipe. He rose off the desk and spoke with excitement, “Speaking of messes, I had a little chat with our Washington contact yesterday. This was too public for him and he indicated he wants out.”
    This surprised Naqui. “Really?”
    “Don’t worry, doc, I have a plan,” Stipe said with a cocky smirk.
    “You always do. Although not usually a very well thought out one.”
    “I’ve had discussions with some of the leadership of Al Muttahedah about a possible joint business venture. It could be much more lucrative.”
    “The terrorist group?”
    "No—my Uncle Al Muttahedah from New Jersey.”
    Naqui ignored Stipe’s sarcasm, his thoughts focused on his long journey that began in the jungles of Vietnam. He could understand the feeling of their Washington contact; Naqui wrestled with similar thoughts. But even though he was questioning his once unshakable faith in his country, Naqui wasn’t ready to play for the other team. Not yet, anyway.
    “So do you want me to start full negotiations?” Stipe asked eagerly, re-buttoning his shirt.
    “No—go to our Washington contact and explain that there is too much invested. Pulling out is not an option.”
    Stipe nodded as if it was the expected response, then put on his leather hat and limped toward the door. Just before reaching the door, he pirouetted back toward Naqui and flashed another smug grin.
    “One other thing, doc. We made a pickup in Sweden on our way back from Iran. Congratulations on becoming a father once again. They say it never gets old.”
    Naqui turned back to the television with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He watched the children he helped raise into courageous young men having their lives unceremoniously stamped out in the streets of Tehran. He couldn’t help but wonder if this next child would end up the same way.
     

Chapter 9
     
    Billy re-entered the atmosphere Sunday morning like a burning, out of control spaceship. His head rhythmically pounded and his tongue had transformed into sandpaper. He initially had no idea where he was, or if he was even alive, but then he smelled the sweet aroma of Kaylee Scroggins.
    He reached his arm over, only to find nothing but soft cotton sheets. His mind sobered, realizing this was probably a good thing, although it wasn’t a unanimous decision with other parts of his anatomy. He reached once more, but again got nothing but air. He then rolled back into his preferable sleeping position—on his right side with arms crossed. He’d almost drifted back into a hazy unconsciousness when he heard the female voice.
    “Good morning, sunshine, you were fantastic last night.”
    Billy strained his neck, blinking his crusted eyelids. After some brief calculations, he grasped that he was in the loft bedroom of the cottage. When he gained some semblance of focus, he noticed the woman sitting in a chair by his bed.
    But it wasn’t Kaylee.
    He jumped to a sitting position. “What the hell are you doing in here, Beth?”
    The morning sun had latched onto the stern face of Beth Whitcomb. The glare highlighted