“Please?”
Yeah so he was begging. Big fucking deal. He was goddamned thirsty. It’s not like anyone was around to actually witness it. No one would ever even know he had to grovel to a woman for a drink of water.
“All right, but just a little. I’ll be right back.”
He gave her a smile, or tried to. His face felt all weird and contorted. The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. A SEAL was begging a woman for water. Hell, he lived in the water. He was the strongest damn swimmer in his BUD/S class and held onto that reputation throughout the years.
As if a gift from God, she reappeared with a small glass of water. It probably only had a couple ounces at most, but at this point he’d take whatever she was willing to give.
He tried to lift his head as she brought the glass to his mouth. He was struggling, and she placed her other hand behind his head and helped him. Stiffness just soared through his neck and shoulders as he drank the small amount she gave him.
She placed the glass on a table beside the bed and lifted his hand. For a minute he thought she was going to hold his hand again. He would be lying if he didn’t admit the idea seemed nice, but instead she placed fingers to his wrist and looked to the wall above his head. Assuming there was a clock above there, he waited while she counted. She seemed satisfied and not worried with what she determined.
So what did he have here? He’d been shot. He was alive. For some reason unbeknownst to him he made this woman’s emotions hit all over the radar. He was used to causing a reaction in women, just usually not a bad kind. That was another topic for another time though.
He glanced around the room and found the dingy appearance of the cabinets and lights to be older than he’d expected. Even for Mexican hospital standards this place was dated. He remembered something then. When she’d been arguing with that man about him they made mention of an underground doctor’s office and something about illegal activity.
“This isn’t a hospital is it?” he asked.
Her nervousness reappeared. What the hell, did he have the numbers 666 tattooed on his forehead? He couldn’t stand it. He had to ask her.
“Do I scare you?”
She cautiously stepped a few steps away from the bed and eyed him curiously. He seriously needed to get in front of a mirror so he could figure out what the hell was wrong with him.
“Look, I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where I am. If anyone should be scared it should be me.”
“You’re um…being cared for.”
“Where?” No matter how scared she seemed, his patience was running thin. He wanted answers. This was no damn hospital. He’d been in hospitals in third-world countries, but something was off here. It wasn’t just the old dated furniture and drab feeling. The hallway seemed to look dark like there was no light. Then he remembered something he seemed to know just minutes earlier. They mentioned a cellar. Fuck! What the hell was wrong with his memory? Everything seemed foggy.
He waited for her to answer him, wondering if she had it in her to lie. Something about her just didn’t seem the type. She had an almost innocent nature to her, not in the sense that she was a child but in the way she saw the world.
“You’re in our home.”
Were her hands shaking? “Are you okay?”
She backed farther away and edged herself closer to the door. “Do you think you’ll be all right? If I leave you be?”
What in God’s name was going on here? She was afraid to be alone with him. Having only been awake for a short time he was sure he already had her pegged. If he told her he needed her to stay, he was positive that she would. He bet on his chance and took it.
“No. I don’t feel so well. Could you stay with me? Just in case I get sick or something?”
Nervous, she picked up a small plastic pale that was near his bed and put it near his mouth. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you that water.”
She all but hit him in the face with it with the way she moved so abruptly. He started to laugh, but that jolting pain that he felt in his arm earlier was now all over his torso.
“Fuck!”
“Oh God! Did I hurt you?”
The poor girl was pacing back and forth while he controlled his breathing against the onslaught of pain. This scared-as-a-mouse bullshit was getting on his last nerve. His combination of pain mixed with his lack of patience didn’t result in an even temperament.
“Sit!” he snapped at her.
He didn’t know what annoyed him more, that he’d had to shout at her in order to get her to be still, or that she’d jumped so far when he yelled that she all but jumped out of her skin.
A minute of deep calming breaths and the pain he felt started to subside. His once-racing pulse was beginning to steady itself. He needed to find out where he was, how the hell he got there, and what was wrong with him. He wasn’t going to be able to do that if he was edge and she was jumpy. His mouth tasted like shit, and he had a sneaking suspicion his appearance matched his odor, so charming the socks off of her might seem fruitless, but it was the only weapon at his disposal.
“Please relax. Can you do that for me? I’m not going to hurt you.”
Fidgeting with her hands, she nodded to him.
Be patient, Nick. “No really. I’m a good guy. I don’t hurt women.”
“I know that.”
Okay, so foggy memory and being shot aside, he was all kinds of confused. She knew he wasn’t the type to hurt her, but she was afraid of him. Well that sure as hell made sense. He filed a frustrated thought that came to his mind about women for a later date.
“Good. That’s good you know that because I wouldn’t. Ever.”
“Okay.”
She wasn’t completely relaxed, but she’d stopped picking at her fingernails. Surely that was a sign of progress, right?
“Now, will you tell me how I got here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?”
“My father brought you here.”
“That man you argued with before was your father?”
She dropped her head down and stared at her lap. “Please don’t talk about him in the past tense. He is my father.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. What was she, a goddamn English teacher? “Sorry. He is your father. And he brought me here because?”
“He wanted to protect you.”
Okay now he was intrigued. A man wanted to protect him. The last thing he remembered was a gun pointing down at him. How did he get from there to here?
“I remember a man with a gun. Is that who your father was trying to protect me from?”
She nodded her answer. He only remembered hearing the man’s voice, but the hazy image of him didn’t register as being an overly large man. In fact his size seemed average at best. He wondered how the hell her father would have been able to overpower whoever was holding the gun. He’d gotten a good look at the size of the men when all hell broke loose on the boat. They were all large-framed, muscular men. This game of twenty questions could go on all day. He needed to know what the hell happened.
“Look, I feel like I’ve had the shit kicked out of me. Can you just tell me everything that happened starting from the—” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence as he succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep.
Chapter 6
Warmth. It was the first thing that came to his mind when he started to wake. The room was quiet, but he could hear the trickling sounds of water. Then he felt wetness. On his face and neck. It was dripping. Was he back in the ocean? Damn! Just once he wanted to wake up to a feeling of knowing where the hell he was and what the fuck was going on.
Opening his eyes didn’t prove to be as hard as the last time. His eyelids were heavy, but he still managed to get them open before quickly shutting them again. The room was bright.
“You’re awake.”
There she was. Her voice was incredibly sweet, but she had to win the award for the most obvious statements.
“Why is it so bright in here?”
H
e heard a splashing sound and her feet scurry across the floor.
“Is that better?”
Squinting as to not shock his pupils again, he opened his eyes slowly. It was much darker. There was still light in the room, but she had obviously dimmed whatever monstrosity was blinding him.
“Much. Thank you.”
She smiled at him. It was nice. Wait. What the…she smiled at him?
“You have a nice smile.” It could have been a line, but it wasn’t. She had straight white teeth and a dimple on her right cheek. It was cute.
“Do you mind if I continue?” she asked, ignoring his compliment.
He looked down to his side and saw a small bowl filled with water and a wash cloth. The water. So that’s what he was hearing. She was trying to clean him off. Good God it must be bad for her to resort to bathing a man who clearly invoked such fear in her.
“Not at all. Thank you. Any chance you have a tooth brush and something minty to rub all over my teeth?”
“I think I can probably find something.”
“Thanks. I guess I should be apologizing though. I’m wagering my breath smells nothing short of a putrid scent from the gates of hell.”
Again she smiled. Wow. Two smiles in such a short time? Whatever he did to ease her nerves, he was glad for it.
“It is kinda bad,” she admitted.
“Thanks for sparing my feelings.” Sure he was being a wise ass, but her bluntness had surprised him.
She merely shrugged in response before wringing out the wash cloth before bringing it back up to his mouth and rubbing at something that was obviously troublesome and she couldn’t get off.
“Pretty bad, huh?”
“No. Just some dried blood.”
That has to look great, he thought. He didn’t want to chance the possibility of her mood swings doing a flip on him again, so he decided to fill in some more of the gaps while he was still coherent enough to understand what she was saying.
“Will you tell me what happened now? From the beginning?”
She seemed to be considering whether or not she should tell him when she sighed. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Please though, try and understand that my father is a good man. He’s made mistakes in his life and is trying to make up for them, but he’s a kind and caring person. He would never hurt anyone,” she insisted.
Again he wanted to make a wise ass crack about women but thought better of it. She was being a little too melodramatic for his tastes. He had no doubt her father was a fantastic guy. Shit, he’d saved his life from one of the mercenaries who had a gun trained on him. Why the hell did she think he’d judge her father? Before he even considered asking the question, he thought better of it. He didn’t give a rat’s ass why she said it. He just wanted answers.
“Okay. I believe you.” Well, what was he going to say?
She blew out a deep exhale and looked up at a ceiling that was cracking and in desperate need of repair. It was as if she was searching for the right words as she stared in thought.
“My father and I were walking on the beach. It’s one of the many things we do together. Walking is a good way to decompress and just talk with someone.”
Great. That’s super. Get on with it please. The words nearly fell from his lips, but he thought that probably wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. She didn’t seem the type to appreciate sarcasm.
“We were only a dozen or so yards away from you when we saw you crawling to a small recess in the cliff wall. It was obvious from looking at you that you were hurt. A trail of blood followed you as you inched along.”
That sparked his memory. He remembered his long swim and dragging himself across the beach to shelter.
“Please go on,” he said.
“Dad didn’t know who you were. You could’ve been anyone, but he also couldn’t leave a man injured if he was able to do anything to help him. We both were approaching you when we saw a small inflatable boat with a motor whip around the inlet and come toward us. We both hid in a cluster of palm trees while the man jumped out of his boat. He had a gun.”
She said the last words as if they were a sin. She whispered the word “gun” and shuddered.
“I remember the gun. But not the man,” he added.
“It seemed like only seconds passed and he was bearing down on you, coming at you like he couldn’t wait to make you hurt. It seemed…I don’t know, personal maybe? I didn’t even know what was happening. Dad had asked me to sit there and not move. No matter what, he’d said. Next thing I knew he was running after the man and tackling him. They both went down with a thud on the sand and started to struggle with the gun.”
Wow. He was impressed. Not only had her father literally saved his life, but he seemed to have a set of balls bigger than watermelons. That was the kind of thing you saw in the movies. Very rarely did he ever hear of someone stupid enough to actually try it.
“I guess he saved my life then. I really have to thank him. Now, where is he?”
“He’s resting.”
While she said the words calmly, her eyes betrayed her. He saw something there, something she obviously didn’t want him to see, because she quickly turned away with the bowl and washcloth in her hand as she set them both on a small table by the doorway.
“Is it late?” he asked.
Turning back around, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”
“You said he was resting. I have no idea what time it is. Hell, I don’t even know what day it is.”
“It’s the 19th. You’ve been here for a little over a day.”
Holy hell. He’d only lost a day? He felt like it’s been days, maybe even a week or longer. Reaching down, he felt the pain in his side and now knew why it still hurt like a mother fucker.
“Only a day? I was shot. How did…” His voice trailed off as he considered who he was dealing with. Your average person can’t just stick their hands in your sides and pull out a bullet. “Is your father a doctor?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Technically.”
Technically? For the love of God, why did this woman insist on speaking code? He was either a doctor or he wasn’t. What the hell was this “technically” bullshit?
He reined in his annoyance. “Meaning?”
She looked at him quizzically. Was she trying to size him up? He would’ve laughed had he not found it kind of endearing that she thought she stood a chance in hell.
“Not technically. I mean he’s licensed to practice his medicine. In the States that is. You’re just not his…Well, his patients are usually furry and most have tails.”
“A veterinarian? Your dad is a vet?”
She nodded her reply.
Well fuck me running. He had not been expecting that one at all. Damn if he didn’t want to laugh at the news. A doc of four-legged creatures had taken down a damn mercenary and saved his damn life. Unbelievable.
“Your dad sounds like a bad ass mofo.”
A pain shone in her eyes as she rubbed at them, faking fatigue, but he saw the tears well up. He didn’t know why, but he was remorseful.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
Rubbing her eyes a bit longer than necessary, he wondered if she would rub them clear off of her face. When she finally looked back at him, he saw dark shadows lingering beneath. If they’d been there before he hadn’t noticed, but he was, after all, recovering from a bullet wound.
“Is it true?” She pointed toward him. “About the tattoo, I mean.”
“My tattoo? If we talked about my tattoo I don’t remember.”
She shook her head. “No. We didn’t discuss it. Not you and I. My father said it means…Well he thought you might be…” She contorted her mouth to one side and chewed on the inside of her cheek.
Oh. So her father saw the tattoo and suspected he knew what it meant. “You mean the trident on my back?”
“Well, yeah.”
He could have and should have denied it, but he was lying in a bed recovering fro
m a gunshot wound and pretty much at her mercy. Or at least until her father awoke. The idea of pissing her off didn’t seem like the smartest idea, so he opted for half truth.
“I can tell you I’m in the United States Navy, ma’am.”
The corners of her mouth curved up, and she gave him a small smile. “He said if you were a SEAL you would never admit to it.”
Was she smiling because she thought by saying he was in the navy he had admitted to it? Or was she smiling because she took his answer for what it was, a vague acknowledgement of his service with little detail? She was hard to read. That was unusual for him. He could almost always tell everything there was to know about a person within minutes of meeting them.
“Well I’ve known some SEALs in my day, and I’d have to agree with your father. Speaking of which, when can I shake his hand and thank him?”
“As I said, he’s resting.”
Her smile disappeared again and was replaced with a sadness. He couldn’t tell if there was something he was saying that was upsetting her or if she was just a crazy woman who had mood swings that flew up and down faster than a bungee-cord descent.
“Right. Well when he wakes I’d like to…” He stopped for a minute. The room suddenly was spinning, and he was overcome with the need to vomit.
“Are you okay?”
Despite being only a few feet away from him, she all but ran to his side as she placed a hand on his forehead. Her hand was soft and felt so cool against his skin. What was the temperature in this place anyway? He felt like he was burning up.
“Oh God. Wait right here.”
He closed his eyes and waited for the nausea to pass. Wait here? Yeah, sure thing. Where the hell was he going to go? Oh hell, he didn’t have the energy for sarcasm.
A sound echoed inside his head like everything was magnified. It was her and her father. They were back. Their voices were calm as they discussed something, but despite their even tones it felt like they were screaming inside his head. Somewhere on his head was a small circus monkey banging symbols together over and over. With every clatter of the brass circles clashing he could feel someone jabbing two very large knives into his eye sockets.
Morgan, Nicole - Sweet Affliction [Sweet Awakenings 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4