Okay, I can't discuss Strike Back just yet, but I will say I love shows where NOBODY is safe. Speaking of no one being safe, Sons of Anarchy returns Tuesday and I'm ready to start marking the death toll. LOL
Now for something a little less morbid. Tonight's post is from The Truth Hurts, which yeah, sometimes it can—especially if the characters don't want to admit it. J
Here's the tagline:
Mardi Darr discovers her current lover is an enemy agent with an enchanted chip in his head. She gives the okay for a risky surgery and it lands him in a submersion chamber with no brain activity. Heth Santiago is responsible for Mardi being with Staz and he needs to help Mardi accept the truth…even though it hurts like a bitch.
And the preview snippet…
Heth hated dive bars with a passion, but he had a mission—to seek out Mardi and make sure she had a handle on the day's events and to stop her from doing anything extremely stupid. He shoved the door open and stalked inside, adding a healthy dose of bad ass attitude to his gait. He wanted no part of petty brawling or pissing contests.
He quickly scanned the dim interior and spotted Mardi sitting alone at a table near the back entrance. A half empty bottle of Abernath stood in the center of the surface, keeping a lonely vigil over the shot glass by its side.
Heth sighed. "Great. She's got a jumpstart on a drunk-fest."
Moving forward, he elbowed his way through the crowded area and stopped in front of the table. Mardi glanced up and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Heth took her response as the only invitation he'd get and snagged a chair from the neighboring corner then dropped down across from her.
Resting his forearms on the surface, he jumped right in with the first part of his self-imposed task. "You okay?" A stupid question after the shit she'd been through, but it broke the ice.
She tilted her head sideways for a moment then downed a shot. "Sure," She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Heth clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Is that the way you really wanna play this?" He should've known she'd make him push hard. She rarely did anything else.
Mardi poured another round. "How else should I play it, Heth? He wanted to wait." She tossed the green-hued liquor down her throat. "He begged me to wait, but I told the doc to go ahead." She slammed the glass on the table. "And look where it got him."
In a submersion chamber, no brain activity, but still breathing. Heth figured it better than death, but he kept his opinion to himself. Mardi wouldn't take hearing it well at all.
Heth grabbed the shot glass and filled it. "He would've done the same for you." Lifting it to his lips, he drank the fiery liquid down in a gulp.
Mardi lips twisted in a sad smile. "No. No he wouldn't." She snagged the small tumbler from Heth. "In fact, he didn't. He backed every decision I made, without question." She filled the shot and drank.
Heth didn't agree, but, again, refrained from telling her so. Her gaze turned shadowed and she glanced away. Mardi saw the times Staz didn't follow through, too. He didn't question her decided course, but he wouldn't always go along either. When Mardi ordered him to kill her if the Street Hawks attacked—she couldn't fall into their clutches—he made the right response, but he'd never have gone through with taking the shot. Heth had been witness, the guy didn't have it in him to do whatever it took.
Which made what he turned out to be—an enemy plant in their camp—harder for Mardi to deal with. Even though Staz had no idea he'd been spellbound to protect her at all costs, it didn't make the bitter taste any easier to swallow.
Heth had to cut her some slack. "Except when those decisions involved you." He left the topic there—no need to rip a scab off another old wound.
Mardi lifted a shoulder. "Can't blame him for that." She emptied the bottle into the shot glass. "But he can blame me—for not listening. For not letting him give us more intel once the spell master discovered the enchantment." She gulped the alcohol and signaled the bartender to bring another bottle.
Heth leaned in close and snapped. "And what if he'd had a stroke because the enchanted chip burned a hole in his brain?"
Mardi answered. "Then he'd be dead."
Heth nodded. "Exactly."
She shook her head. "No, not exactly. He would've gone out doing something he thought important." Pain filled her gaze and she glanced away. "I just wanted to get my Staz back. The guy who made me laugh. The one who healed my hurt…" Her eyes met his again. "When you walked away." A cold look settled over her face. "I didn't care about the enemy, or what Staz wanted. I just wanted that damn chip out of his head."
Her words hit Heth with brutal precision. He finally got it. The agony had nothing to do with the surgery and Staz's comatose state. She hadn't fully accepted him being an agent for the other side or the sacrifice he'd wanted to make…
Heth laid a hand over hers. "Mardi…"
Mardi opened her mouth—no doubt to blast him with a scathing tirade—but clamped it shut when a waitress brought another bottle of Abernath.
Mardi reached into her bra and withdrew a twenty. "Keep the change." Her tone dismissed the pretty blonde before she could even blink.
The waitress quickly set another shot glass on the table and walked away. Mardi slowly broke the seal on the cap and twisted it off. She placed the liquor on the table and exhaled on a long breath.
She met his gaze again. "Look, Heth. Just don't. Okay?" She filled the two glasses. "I'm going to sit here and drink until I can't think anymore. You can join me, or not. I don't care."
Oh, he'd join her. Heth didn't plan to go anywhere. Not this time. He'd left her once before and look where she'd landed.
He picked up the shot. "I'm staying. Until you're ready to come home."
A brief smile flitted across her lips before she joined him in downing the alcohol.
And so it begins—the painful truth and accepting it. An even bigger truth lies waiting for Mardi to discover…if she's game to find it.
That's it for this week.