Rage (A Jaden Rayne Adventure Book 1)

by Lilith Darville

  “We’ll need an X-ray of those ribs.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Any blood in your urine? You didn’t answer me when I asked earlier, but it’s important.” He performs a thorough exam while I debate how much to tell him.

  “All reflexes are in working order, and if you don’t have a cracked rib, then the kidney is the only concern. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

  I wave my hand and try to act nonchalant. “I told you, I’m fine.”

  Jaden give me his “look,” the one that makes me want to open my mouth and spill. “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Okay, some, but I’ll heal. Are we done?”

  He says nothing as he helps me off the gurney and leads me into an adjoining room fully equipped with an X-ray and ultrasound machine. He takes the X-ray and examines the film.

  “Just as I thought, you have a cracked rib. Here, have a look.” He points to the crack on the X-ray. “I imagine this hurts every time you take a deep breath.”

  It hurts every time I take any breath, but I’ll probably never admit to that. Show no weakness.

  “You’ll be much more comfortable once we’ve taped it.”

  I stand tense and miserable at Jaden’s side. What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Who is we?” My tone reminds me of a cornered rat about to strike.

  Jaden lifts an eyebrow.

  “It’s just that you medical people and restaurant staff use the royal ‘we’ as if you were part of the Windsor family. Either you’re taping my ribs, or I am. We aren’t.” Belligerent is the term that springs to mind at that tone.

  He picks up the roll of KT Tape, then stands quietly, waiting for me to stop my manic fidgeting. Eventually, I stop and looks at him.

  “What?”

  “I still need to tape your ribs.” He cuts a few long strips of tape and adhere them to the edge of the gurney. He points to my chest. I lift the remains of my T-shirt and raise my arms. Hard nipples dare Jaden to ignore them.

  I’m quiet except for a couple of sharply drawn in breaths while Jaden secures the ribs against further injury.

  “Keep an eye on that kidney. Tell me immediately if you notice any change in your urine output, particularly if the blood increases.” He finishes with the taping. I frantically reach for my clothes as if they’re the shield that will save me from the shaft of his arrow.

  I rest quietly while Jaden tidies up. I let a stream of euphoria run through me. Suddenly, all I can think of is finding out more about this guy. “This place is so cool. It’s like the Batcave. Do you have a Batmobile?” Even in my drug-induced haze, I know these are stupid questions, but I can’t help myself. I’ve always been drawn to trivial detail, but I’ve learned to keep that wee fact to myself.

  Jaden actually grins, and a Chinook melts the ice fortress I keep around me. “The original Batmobile was a 1939 Cadillac. The series used a Lincoln Futura. The Tim Burton movies used a Chevy Impala chassis.“

  “Yeah, well the Tumbler isn’t built on an existing chassis at all. And it’s more like a tank.”

  “Uh-huh, but it can’t take on my Bugatti Chiron.” I can almost see his colorful feathers fluff with pride as he makes this pronouncement. I’d be Googling that car first chance I got.

  “Are you a car nut or something?” I ask. He’s obviously a Batman trivia nut.

  “Not really. I like a good car, but I collect knives and dragons.”

  “Why knives?”

  “Why not?”

  This drives me absolutely batshit crazy about this guy. He never gives a straight answer. Ever! He throws me one of his Tshirts and moves to help me, but I wave him away. I do my best to get it on without moving my shoulder. Fat chance. The freezing is coming out, and it hurts like hell.

  I jump off the gurney. The impact sends a jolt of pain through my shoulder and back. Shit. I gingerly use my good arm to anchor my forearm, trying not to rip out the stitches.

  “Take it easy with that for a few days until things heal. You’ll make a full recovery.” Jaden gives the back of my neck a gentle squeeze.

  Sweet Jesus. I’ve died and gone to heaven. I should probably give some serious thought to what draws me to this strange man, but I have plenty of time for that. Do you now? What about Summer? What about Viper? I push the nagging thoughts into the room that houses all the rest of my unpleasant—and practical—thoughts and slam the door. Tight. Time enough for real life later. When Viper and his goons are good and gone.

  “How come you know how to use all this stuff? Why do you know so much about medicine?”

  The humor instantly dies, and Jaden’s face goes rigid, like a marble statue. He busies himself cleaning up the surgical trays. Oh oh. I roam around the infirmary, taking a mental inventory. He says nothing. I debate taking one of the scalpels and decide against it. I’d probably cut myself. He takes no notice. When I can’t stand it any longer, I turn to face him. His face is a mask of inscrutability. This man seems to be hiding behind one huge pile of shit, maybe even larger than my own.

  I stare at him, somehow managing to keep my mouth shut. Curiosity overruns my shattered nerves, as does my innate sense of fairness. What’s good for the goose and all that.

  I follow Jaden into the computer room. He takes a look at the monitors and puffs out a breath. I lean over his shoulder. Viper’s goons roam around the house, guns out. Jaden studies the monitors as they search each room.

  “I suppose as long as we’re going to have to stay down here for a while, we might as well get comfortable.” He strides out without looking back. After a second’s hesitation, I scurry after him.

  “Won’t they find us?”

  “No.”

  Geez. Talk much? “How come?”

  “It’s a safe room.” Jaden’s tone ends the conversation as if that explains everything.

  The lab is vast, just like the rest of his compound. Every few steps, I have to run to keep up with him. We move from a long hallway into a large room that looks like an open-concept bachelor apartment. Jaden waves toward a large sectional couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I stop a minute to catch my breath. I want to pump him for information but refuse to pester him like a child. I will be calm, cool, and classy, just like Beyoncé. The urge to find out more wars with my vow to be a lady of class. Melissa McCarthy wins and jumps out of my goddamned mouth.

  “So, are you going to stand there and treat me like I’m some kind of moron?”

  His head whips around to look at me, a scowl of thunderclouds marring that perfectly sculpted face. I’m sure this is “the look” designed to scare me off. I’ve faced down worse than this, although living to tell the tale often included multiple bruises or what he calls contusions. I raise what I hope is a dainty but determined eyebrow. Amber eyes meet my chestnuts, and the battle ensues. I’m just about to take a breath and back down.

  “I’m a doctor. There. Happy now?” He walks over to the fridge, grabs a carton of juice, and drinks straight from the spout before holding it in my direction. His eyebrow crooks in question.

  “No thanks. What kind of doctor?” I kneel on the sectional, facing him, and cross my arms over the back.

  He shrugs and puts the juice back in the fridge. “ER.” His words are short and clipped. Every nerve in his body shouts “intruder alert.”

  “So why did you tell me you’re a hacker if you’re a doctor? Wouldn’t you make better money as a doctor?”

  Jaden traces his gaze over all his expensive stuff and quirks that damned eyebrow again. Okay, maybe not.

  “When did you quit?” I just can’t let it go.

  “When they took Savannah.”

  I hold my breath. Shut up, Rayne. Don’t say it … Don’t say it. We are about to have a moment.

  “And you think Viper killed her?”

  7

  Jaden

  Don’t want to stay the way I am …

  “Viper took someone
from you? And you think he killed her?” Rayne repeats bristling with electric tension. I wait a beat for her to speak again, to take away this moment of truth. If she follows pattern, she’ll ask some goddamned irrelevant question that will steer this conversation down a safer path. But no. Now, she sits, all prim and proper, lips pursed. For once, she manages to keep her mouth shut. She’s forcing me to answer.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.

  Displeasure marches across her face and she makes no attempt to hide it. “Oh, so it’s okay for me to bare my eternal soul to you, but you can keep your secrets hidden, is that it?” Belligerence wars with disbelief as she stares me down. “I’m so sick of you men and your goddamned double standards.”

  “Works for me.” I take a few steps in the direction of my computer lab. Coral, my orange-striped tabby, comes bounding down the tunnel, stops, takes one look at Rayne, and jumps onto her lap, purring like a jackhammer going off.

  Rayne cuddles Coral and murmurs endearing things into her sleek coat. “You’re so cute. Just the cuddliest thing. Yes, aren’t you?” She manages to scoop Coral up onto her shoulder with her good arm and wanders after me.

  “Well, just so you know, it doesn’t work for me. I’m not telling you one more goddamned thing until you tell me about Savannah.”

  I heave a huge internal sigh and turn to face her great wall of determination. Though she’s driving me crazy, I’m happy they didn’t manage to beat this spark out of her. What made her hang on when others—Savannah—could not?” My need to know inches just above my mission to block everyone out. “Okay. But then you’ve got to tell me the whole sordid story, as you called it, about your, er, ES.”

  “Fuck, do you remember everything?”

  “Pretty much.” I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. Nobody but Sasha dares talk to me like this. And here is this little one blasting off in my face, reminding me of one of the baby dragons in my collection—snorting out all kinds of harmless steam as if it gives her protection or something. I cross the room, take my stash from its hidey-hole, and slide it on the table.

  “Help yourself.” I pluck Coral from Rayne’s arms and sit beside her on the couch. Like Rayne, I bury my nose in Coral’s fur, letting her warmth seep through my frozen veins. I need the comfort of Coral’s snarly affection to get through this story. Coral loves attention, but if you aren’t careful, she’ll bite the hand that feeds her—fast and without compunction. Something like Rayne. No wonder they take to each other.

  Coral jumps out of my arms and drapes herself across Rayne’s lap. Rayne’s warmth radiates like a wood stove as she turns to face me, legs tucked under her. Wanting. Waiting for me to open up and break the silence.

  “Savannah was my fiancée. We met in college. She had everything I thought I wanted—grace, beauty, brains, talent, ambition—I was a little lacking in those areas. She was the perfect match.” I swallow hard as images of Savannah float behind my eyes.

  “Everything about us was traditional. We had a perfect life—great careers and true respect for each other. She came from Toronto’s upper-class echelon. I didn’t, but Sunnybrook recruited me to head up their emergency department. I was their McGill University superstar, their prize recruit. That was good enough for her. Savannah landed a nurse practitioner position at one of the community clinics in the Regent Park neighborhood of Toronto. The place was overrun with the seedier side of life.”

  “So, why’d she work there, then?” Is that doubt I hear in Rayne’s voice? Like why would a rich brat work in a community clinic?

  “Savannah had a plan for us, and she worked on it religiously. She set her sights on me becoming an FRCPC and heading up the ER at Mount Sinai or St. Mike’s.” I get up and light a blunt. I need fortification to continue this story.

  “What the hell is an FRCPC?”

  “A Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians and Surgeons of Canada. That’s about the highest distinction you can get.”

  “And what did you want?”

  I take a huge haul. Rayne is an insightful little thing, and I have to work hard to block her out. I make a silent vow: I’ll use her to find out all she knows about Viper and get rid of her. After I fuck her. Shit. I do not need this kind of trouble in my life, that’s for damn sure. She sits there looking directly at me, expectantly. My throat feels on the dry side, and I look around for something within reach. My gaze catches hers on its circuit, and she still looks expectant … with a pinch of irritation glimmering at the edges. Focused, like a laser.

  I clear my throat. “I would have been happy enough to work out my career at Sunnybrook. I had challenge, the respect of my colleagues, and the opportunity to take emergency medicine to a new level.” I take another pull on the joint.

  She rests her chin on her knees, eyes trained on me. It’s a little unsettling that laser focus. I search her eyes for the pity or boredom I’ve seen on the rare occasions I’ve told this story. Those chestnut eyes hold only curiosity.

  She holds her hand out for the blunt and takes a long haul. Smoke swirls around her head as she exhales and coughs. She hands it back.

  “But she didn’t hear you, or she wouldn’t listen, right? I know the type.”

  My jaw goes slack in disbelief. How dare this little shit presume she knows anything about my Savannah. I rein in the protest stamping its angry hooves as it tries to flee from my mouth. How can I slap her down for the honesty I value above all else? Honesty Savannah lacked. I shove that thought right back where it belongs—buried right along with Savannah. “One does not speak ill of the dead” is a mantra for a reason.

  I draw in a deep breath as I face the ugly truth. Rayne is right. Savannah paid little heed to any thoughts I might have about my career, or anything else in our lives, for that matter. Why am I just seeing this now? Good thing for her I’m an easy-going guy. I look deep into Rayne’s curious eyes shimmering with a thin, lace curtain of compassion.

  “No, she didn’t hear me. But to be fair, I didn’t really care. I figured she’d do her thing, and I’d do mine. I was making my way at Sunnybrook, and that’s all I cared about.”

  I hear the “all” question that rockets through her mind, but she wisely keeps it to herself. I kill a couple of minutes with busy tidy-up work at the sink, my specialty when I need to remove myself from the moment. I settle back on the couch to continue the story.

  “There’s not much more to tell. She vanished after work one day.” I try to roll back my hunched shoulders, but they remain an immovable pillar of tension. “She’d texted when she was leaving, saying she was going right home, but she wasn’t home when I got there, so I filed a missing person’s report.”

  Rayne nods. “And they made you wait the requisite twenty-four hours.”

  I give her a wry smile. She certainly spouts bullshit with authority; I have to give her that.

  “That’s a myth. There’s no wait time to report a person missing.”

  “But, everyone says—”

  “That’s just Hollywood bullshit. Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?”

  She subsides. Her soft scent reminds me of the beauty, strength, and resilience of nature. I want to run my nose along her neck and drink it in. I want to catch that pouty lower lip between my teeth and tug. I shake my head. Get a grip.

  “Yes, by all means.” She waves her hand for me to continue.

  “They found her beaten and bleeding out in a motel room.” Liquid fire rages through my gut at the memory. “They rushed her to Sunnybrook. I was the doctor on shift. There was no time to call anyone else in. They’d nicked her heart when they stabbed her. I should have been able to save her.” I bow my head as the lump in my throat chokes off my breath.

  She manages to keep her mouth shut for at least three minutes. I can see the gears slip into each notch as they turn behind those striking eyes.

  “How long were you together?”

  “Three years.” Three years we were each so wrapped up in
our careers, we’d barely known each other.

  “Doesn’t sound like you really loved her. Did you even know each other? So you canonized her because you feel guilty? How’s that working for you?”

  What the fuck! Her questions strike like blows. This little woman goes straight for the carotid. Righteous anger licks through me. How dare this little upstart judge me? How dare she be right?

  I bite the inside of my cheek to quell the urge to hit something.

  “Who the hell are you to judge me? You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.” I cross the large room to the speed bag suspended in the corner and beat it savagely, hands bare, oblivious to the pain shimmering up my arms. Her small hand on my bicep stops me cold.

  “Is that my cue to go?”

  I grit my teeth. “There’s the door. Be my guest. Viper’s men are waiting for you upstairs. Just tell them you never meant to run away. They’ll be so happy to see you.”

  That should shut her up for at least fifteen seconds.

  8

  Rayne

  You just cannot leave it where you are …

  Oh man, I’ve pissed Jaden off. If the beating he’s giving the punching bag isn’t enough, I can see it in every rigid muscle standing out from his body. Except for the one I’m interested in. That thought gives me a jolt. Cocks are horrid things, and I’ve never seen a man this excited who didn’t sport a hard-on.

  Normally, I would have about one glorious nanosecond of reprieve before the guy would try to force said cock into one of my unwelcoming orifices. The lack of a boner points to a very different outcome this time. A small voice inside my head keeps whispering, “Too bad.” One thing is certain; he has to stop hammering that bag before he ruins his hands. I drop Coral and rush over to stop him.

  No fucking idea how, but here I am, a would-be Florence Nightingale to the rescue. Another historical figure I’ve spent hours daydreaming about emulating. A pathetic and desperate attempt to redeem my past. Whatever …

  I touch Jaden’s bicep, barely stopping from pressing my fingers into the contours of his muscles. Just one little squeeze. Anything to get a reaction from him. He drops his arms and clenches his fists even harder if that’s possible. I adopt my most cheerful tone of voice and take the plunge. “Is that my cue to go?”