by Lissa Kasey
Ollie returned with a nurse in tow. “She’s got a room set aside for you,” he told me.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Just need to clean up a bit.”
“We have one of our docs coming up from emergency to look you over,” the nurse told me. “How about you let her decide?” She held out a stack of forms for me: disclaimers allowing them to look me over.
I sighed. The cops were beginning to trickle in, and I was sure Rush would be arriving soon. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” I followed the nurse to a private room and sat on the paper-covered table without much prodding. Ollie took one of the regular chairs. The nurse pulled up the computer system and entered in my information to access my VA records, then took my blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate.
“Heart rate is still elevated,” she remarked after entering the notes into the computer.
“I barely missed getting blown up, ma’am,” I told her.
She nodded. “I’ll have the doctor in as soon as she arrives. She’s also looking over some of the others injured in this event.” She blinked. “Crew members? Musicians? Mr. Elias’s manager insists that you get the best care as well.”
“Manager?” I asked.
“Emily,” Ollie supplied.
“Oh. Okay. Yes. There were a handful of people present,” I told her. “Your doctor should see to them first. I’m not bad off.”
She nodded. “Everyone around the incident is to be examined for injury and cared for accordingly.” I frowned at her, but she just shrugged and left to find the doctor.
Ollie’s eyes were all over me and I gave him a slight smile, but it tugged at my cheek and hurt. “I love you,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes and absorbed the words, his tone, and the peace of just having him close. “This should have been an easy job.”
“Except that someone really does want to hurt him.”
“Maybe. Or maybe just delay the tour,” I said.
“Why?” Ollie asked.
“Dunno yet. As soon as I think of a reason I’ll share.”
“Ditto,” he said.
After a quick knock, the door opened and a doctor in green scrubs entered. She smiled at us both and took her place at the computer, logging in again to review the details. Then she got up and stood in front of me, hand going to my face first. “I’m going to clean this, see how deep it is.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Tell me what happened,” she instructed as she pulled out cotton and gauze. I gave her the short version, telling her how I’d used my body to cover Jacob’s. She worked fast, but it still stung. I gripped the edge of the table. Tiny aches began to pop up all over my body. The adrenaline must have been wearing off.
She stepped back and frowned at me, then turned and pulled a robe out from a cabinet near the sink. “Strip.”
I blinked at her.
She stared back. “I’m serious. You said a lot of things hit you in the back. I’ve pulled wires and pieces of plastic out of two other guys. Strip.” She pulled the curtain to block anyone coming in the door from seeing anything. “I’ll step out for a minute. Put the gown on over your front and lie on the table stomach down.” She left without giving me another chance to protest.
“Shit,” I grumbled.
Ollie grinned at me. “I’m looking forward to the show.”
I gave him a sideways look. “I’m too sore to dance for you.”
“That’s okay. Your shoulders, back, and ass are fine enough without a dance. All that skin and ink is heavenly.”
My back was mostly bare of tattoos because the Corps had implemented a law requiring tattoos be approved or nonvisible while in uniform. The old stuff had been grandfathered in, but I didn’t want to jump through hoops for the back tat when I hadn’t decided what to get until recently. “Just wait until I get the new back tattoo Sean’s been working on,” I taunted him.
“What will it be? A dragon or something?”
“My Alice.”
He frowned at me, not understanding. But that was okay. He’d know when he saw it. “I’m sure I’ll love it no matter what since it’s you.”
And like always he made me feel like I could fly. I began to remove layer by layer, even double-checking the safety on my gun before setting it beside Ollie. I kicked off my shoes and shoved down my pants. I would have made a comment about Ollie staring at my ass, but he made a sharp intake of breath. I glanced back at him, and his face was horrified.
“That bad?” I asked as I grabbed the gown, leaving on my jock, and took a step toward the table. My knee gave out. One second I was falling, the next Ollie was helping me onto the table. There was a lot of pushing and shoving to get me facedown on the table. I probably weighed a good fifty pounds more than Ollie. He was careful how he touched me, but still it hurt. I gritted my teeth as my knee and hip ignited into a white-hot burst of pain. “Fuck.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Ollie whispered.
“Not you, baby. Just my leg giving me hell.”
There was a hesitant knock at the door and Ollie left me to answer it. It was the doctor. Ollie was wringing his hands beside her, talking about my leg and my injuries, which he had a better view of than me. The doc took one look at me and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to have to sedate you, Mr. Alme. Take you down to surgery.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
“You have several large pieces of shrapnel that need to be removed, and then you’ll need to be cleaned and stitched. We may have to cut a few out.”
“Fuck,” I swore again.
“Agreed,” the doctor said. “I’d also like to have an X-ray done of your leg. There’s some pretty heavy bruising forming and it’s badly swollen.” She stepped outside of the room to call for a gurney to transport me from the tiny exam room to something they could actually move around in.
Ollie stood beside the bed, holding my hand and looking a little green.
I gave him a tiny smile. “I’m okay, baby. I know all about shrapnel. Not my first explosion, you know.”
“Not funny, Kade.” His tone was strained.
I nodded and closed my eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his hand in mine and not the fiery pain shooting up the right side of my body. “Hip and knee hurt pretty bad. Strained it maybe. Not really feeling much else. Bruised, I guess. Nothing as bad as the knee. Don’t suppose they’d give me some weed to take the edge off.”
“I have drops in my bag, though it’s probably better not to mix marijuana with whatever they’re going to give you.” He leaned over and carefully hugged me, laying his cheek carefully close to my newly bandaged one. “Most likely Percocet.”
“That’d be okay too,” I said as the doc returned with a couple of burly nurses and a rolling bed. I sighed. This was going to hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
TWO HOURS and a half-dozen stitches later, I was clothed and mostly mobile. They’d had to give me a splint for my leg, else I’d have been stuck with being wheeled back to Jacob’s floor. I was bruised, badly so. They’d even offered to admit me. I refused, since none of my injuries were life-threatening. The damage to my leg and hip was mostly bruising, though I’d twisted the knee pretty badly when I’d thrown myself into Jacob.
X-rays showed no internal damage, just a lot of swelling. The three stitches in my left buttcheek were unpleasant enough. They pulled a tiny bit every time I walked no matter how small the step. A dozen cuts had been sealed with liquid stitches like the one on my face had been. But the meatier areas of the body needed the real thing. So butt, thigh, and calf. The pieces of metal had been small, but enough to tear into me without completely destroying my clothes. Ollie had hand sewn the small tear in the ass of my jeans while the doctors had dug metal and shit out of me. I knew he could design, but had no idea he actually knew how to sew. When I commented, he just gave me a shrug, citing a home economics class he’d had in the sixth grade and a small kit a designer friend had given him for Christmas.
&nb
sp; The painkillers they’d given me were strong, since they had to dig plastic and metal shards out of me, so I was only mostly vertical because Ollie stood beside me and I had a death grip on my cane. However, I didn’t request extra meds since I had better stuff at home. It was sort of a battle now of drugs versus pain versus staying mobile.
Duke sent me a text telling me the doctors were done treating Jacob, but that they were authorized to speak to no one but Oliver or me. Odd that I’d been extended the courtesy.
We made our way upstairs, me almost stopping to beg for a wheelchair twice. Fuck, I hurt. But I made it. Duke waited outside the room Jacob had been moved to. Apparently he would be staying the night.
“I’ve got my guys on shift.”
“How many?” I asked, knowing there was no way I could do a rotation for at least another twelve hours. Not until the pain in my leg dulled some.
“Four. Plus there are still police downstairs. Your detective friend is in the waiting room.”
I nodded at Duke and knocked on the door to Jacob’s room. A nurse opened it, saw Ollie and me, and stepped aside. The doctor beside Jacob’s bed was reading through the computer module set up beside the bed, and Jacob wore a pair of giant headphones. His face was bruised, but otherwise he looked okay. He did have an IV, and a pump that appeared to be giving him pain meds.
The doctor turned to us. “Mr. Alme and Mr. Petroskovic?”
We both nodded. Ollie offered his hand, which the doctor took. “Dr. Menowitz. I’m an ENT specialist here at St. Francis.”
“ENT?” Ollie looked over at Jacob. “Something happened to his ears?”
“There was a lot of feedback in his ear mic when the speaker blew,” I told him.
The doctor nodded. “It was a minor perforation. No surgery required, but I’ve got him on antibiotics and fluids to help speed his healing. I’m going to recheck it tomorrow, make sure the perforation is sealed before he’s released.”
“So no music for him?” I clarified.
“Not for a few days. The headphones help with sound restriction, but with a perforation there are a lot of other issues: headaches, infections, vertigo, light-headedness. He really just needs to rest. I recommend at least a week of rest. He refuses.”
“He’s got a tour coming,” Ollie said. “It’s important.”
“Won’t do him any good if he loses part of his hearing,” Dr. Menowitz pointed out.
“How likely is that?” I inquired. I’d be telling his family the full-on specs if only to get some sort of reaction out of them. They should have been in here, not us, yet when we’d passed the waiting room they’d all still been lingering, uninterested in their surroundings or each other.
“It was a minor tear. However, the inner ear is a complicated organ. With time and rest, I think he’ll have a full recovery. Tomorrow, once the pain is more manageable, I’ll do a test to tell more long-term effects. But really he needs rest.”
Both Ollie and I nodded, letting the doctor go. He picked up a notepad and wrote that he’d be back tomorrow and showed it to Jacob, who nodded slightly. The doctor left and Jacob picked up the notebook, writing: “You look like shit.”
Ollie snorted, but kissed my cheek. I shrugged, took the pen, and wrote, “Pot, kettle.”
Jacob gave me a smile, and it was sort of shocking, as I hadn’t seen one aimed at me before. It was laced with pain and exhaustion, but real. Was I finally getting to see the real Jacob Elias?
He wrote: “No performance tonight.”
“Not for a few days,” I mouthed to him, shaking my head.
He wrote, “Tell Kisten.”
I nodded and noted that once again he made no mention of his sister, who also happened to be his manager. Just how big was the rift between them?
“Do you want to see them?” Ollie asked, then wrote it down when Jacob motioned that he hadn’t caught the question.
Jacob turned the page and wrote in giant letters, “NO,” and underlined it several times.
“Okay, then,” I said.
Ollie reached out and patted Jacob’s hand. “Rest.”
Jacob scribbled again. “You’re so beautiful.”
Ollie flushed, and I was about to pull him away since I was too tired and hurt to put up with more games. But Jacob then wrote: “He’s good for you. Makes you more beautiful.”
Ollie nodded.
Jacob wrote: “He saved my life.” He looked at me. I shrugged. “Best bodyguard ever.”
I snorted this time, and Ollie slapped my chest, which didn’t hurt, but it was almost enough pressure to knock me over since my whole leg was jacked up. He caught me, and apologized profusely. Jacob just eyed us coolly.
“Rest,” he wrote, pointed to himself, and then to me.
I nodded. Great idea.
“I’ll talk to Emily and Kisten,” Ollie said. Jacob waved us away, adjusting himself in the bed. We left his room and headed back to the reception area. “I’ll take you home and have B bring me back later for my car. You can lie down in the back of the SUV.”
My heart raced. Ollie was going to drive?
“Baby, maybe you can just call Will and B to pick me up? So you don’t have to leave your car in the lot?”
“They’re at work. My car is fine where it is for now. Duke gave me your keys while you were being prodded. He had one of his guys move your SUV here and check it again for trouble. You’ll be more comfortable in the back of the SUV than my car anyway.” Ollie helped me hobble over to a small plastic chair that provided almost no comfort at all other than my weight being off my leg. “Just let me update Emily and we’ll be on our way.” He wandered toward the group before I could protest again.
Fuck. Ollie was going to drive us home. Maybe I would lie down in the backseat. Maybe if I couldn’t see the road it wouldn’t be as fucking terrifying. Had he ever driven the SUV before today? I couldn’t recall being in it while he had.
I groaned. The pain meds were already wearing off. My fault really, for not asking for something stronger. Big strong man that I was, I could handle it. Dumbass was more like it. I leaned on my bad hip, keeping pressure off my injured butt. Could this day get any worse? I just wanted to lie down in Ollie’s bed with him beside me and sleep for a good ten hours.
Duke appeared beside me. “You gonna be okay?”
With Ollie driving me home, probably not, but I said, “Sure. Keep guards around Jacob. Let Rush in to talk to him when he’s awake.” The cop wasn’t in the waiting area and neither was Kisten. I hoped Ollie would just give the details to Emily to pass on. “Sounds like his head is going to be fucked up for a while. I’ll be back tomorrow to look in on him.”
Duke nodded.
“We’ll work out a strategy tomorrow. The four guys outside the door is fine, but add one inside all night long. No one in without being cleared by Jacob. All hospital staff needs to be checked before entry. Badges verified as legit. He should have an assigned nurse all night, maybe two depending on the shifts. But you need to check those. Badges, pictures, verify the whole thing with the hospital database. He’s adamant about not seeing his family right now. So they are on the ‘do not enter’ list until he changes his mind.”
Again Duke nodded. “Got it.” He gave me another guy shake that I returned with almost no strength, but my world was beginning to narrow. Shit. I hoped I at least made it out to the car before passing out.
Ollie reappeared at my side as Duke walked away, and pulled a small vial out of his bag. Oh, maybe I could do this. “Open up,” he said.
I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Several drops flooded my tongue with the all too familiar flavor of cannabis oil. It didn’t take too long to feel the tingle, and the pain begin to float away. It was my prescription that Ollie carried. He never used the stuff, but he knew when to badger me into using it. Trying to tough out the pain never worked around Ollie. I never knew how he could tell—the set of my shoulders, the limp, maybe? Didn’t matter. “Gotta move,” I told Ollie. “No
t gonna make it to the car if we don’t move.”
He put my arm over his shoulder, taking most of the weight off my right side and steered me to the elevator. I wondered briefly if there would be cameras waiting outside. Since I’d been guarding the rock star, probably. But by the time we got to the first floor, I couldn’t recall why I should care, and I didn’t remember the journey to the car or the trip home, which I can only suspect was a blessing.
Chapter Fourteen
MY PHONE’S ringing woke me out of a dead sleep. My whole body ached, but at least it was bearable. My leg and hip still hurt, but the pain was down to a mild throb. It was Rush. I answered with a groggy, “Hello?”
“You sound like shit. Rumor has it you’re down for the count, but saved the rock star from being collateral damage.” He was far too awake for this early in the… morning? I frowned at the clock. It was 8:07. Morning or night? I glared at the wall of windows closed with blackout curtains, unable to tell. Ollie was not in bed with me, but I was upstairs and the cat slept in Ollie’s spot beside me.
“I’m still a little out of it,” I admitted. “What do you need? Did you talk to Jacob?”
“I’ve taken his assistant in for questioning.”
“Kisten? Why?”
“We have video of him putting the toy in the car.”
It took a minute for the words to process. “The monkey covered in gore?” But he’d come upstairs all clean and bright-eyed. How had he made a mess of the backseat and come out spotless? Was he wearing some kind of jumper? “Did you see him covered in gore? Has he told you why he’s doing it?”
“He’s lawyered up. Claims it’s not him. Said he put the toy in there, but didn’t mess it up. Said it was a gift from a fan, one he thought Jacob would like. The blood was animal blood by the way.”
At least this guy wasn’t reenacting a Stephen King scene and cutting pieces off people. “So you’ve questioned him?”
Rush sighed. “Like I said, he lawyered up pretty fast. Big-name attorney bought and paid for by the rock star. And we have nothing to hold him on. His alibi for the blown speaker is pretty tight. I’ve got twenty people that account for him most of yesterday morning. Including you, which you’ll have to verify.”