Worth Any Cost: (Adam & Mia #4) (Gaming The System Book 6)

by Brenna Aubrey

  Naturally, he appeared increasingly less comfortable. “Yeah, that—um—that came with the order. Confidential.”

  Despite my aching head and the general frustration of the day, I smiled. “Come on, enough with the BS, man. You can tell me.”

  “Hey, guys,” Kat interrupted us. “‘Sup, Adam?” She landed a faux punch right on the painful shoulder. Suppressing a wince, even though it hurt like hell, I nodded to her. Then I returned my attention to Lucas.

  “Actually, you’re the last person I can tell. I was told the quest was put in there for you,” Lucas supplied.

  “For me?”

  Kat darted glances between the two of us, and I hoped she was wise enough to stay out of the conversation.

  Lucas continued, “Maybe it’s a wedding present from the devs to you. I tested it myself last week. It’s a fun one. You should try it.”

  I rolled my eyes, putting my hands on my hips. “And when would I have time for that?”

  “I’m sorry, Adam. I have it on my work order.”

  “I’m your boss,” I reminded in a deadpan voice. You could have heard a pin drop. Kat shifted on her feet, watching Lucas with an expression that was somewhere between concern and amusement. I folded my arms across my chest, still scrutinizing him. “I’m your boss’s boss.”

  Lucas visibly paled then cleared his throat. “I think if you—”

  “I’m your boss’s boss’s boss,” I overrode him.

  “Adam, you’re going over the top,” Kat cut in.

  I turned my glare on her. “I’m your boss, too.”

  She, however, was not deterred. “But I’m best friends with your boss—a.k.a. the future wife—so I pwn you.” Despite my irritation, I had to admit her usage of the gamer term was well played. Then her nose crinkled up. “You’re so cranky today.”

  I stared at her, my irritation suddenly dissipating, or maybe I was too tired to maintain it. Plus, it was a stupid thing to alienate an employee over—a dumb quest and a mystery. Especially if I was meant to figure it out myself.

  Kat and I both started laughing at the exact same time.

  Lucas appeared as if he might faint with relief. “This is the awkwardest situation ever.” His eyes flitted between us nervously.

  My mouth quirked. “If I fired you, I wouldn’t be your boss anymore…”

  His eyes went round and he paled. It’d be shame for him to soil himself because of my joke, so I laughed and put my hand on his shoulder. “Just messing with you, man.”

  “You better be. Don’t make us rat you out to HR,” Kat said. Lucas and Kat exchanged a long gaze, and in that moment, even I noticed some unspoken message pass between them. I had no idea what it was. They appeared to be fairly good friends. Maybe it was an inside joke.

  Once we sobered up, she continued, “You look exhausted. Maybe you need a nap. Or go relax and do the quest. If Jedi Boy says it’s good, then it probably is.”

  Lucas’s face fell, and his eyes narrowed at Kat, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “All right, I’m out, then.” I was halfway to the doorway when I turned to face him. “Oh, and Lucas…may the Force be with you.” I gave him a thumbs-up and an obnoxious wink.

  Due to his name, Lucas Walker—never Luke, he often emphasized—despised Star Wars references. And the more he despised them, the more he was tormented with them. As I was his boss, his boss’s boss, and his boss’s boss’s boss, he didn’t dare have a comeback for me.

  But Kat cackled loudly, which was my best reward. “You owe me one, junior,” she said to him when I was almost out of earshot.

  With a grin that almost helped me forget that the rest of me was falling apart, I left play testing and returned to my office in time for a scheduled phone conference, which I barely lasted through.

  Maybe Emilia was right. Maybe the abuse I’d been wreaking on my body lately was catching up with me. I made a special note to try to get to bed early tonight. Her shock alone from that might even be worth it.

  Chapter 10

  Mia

  It was another late day with my virology lab and then my infectious diseases study group. Good god, M2 was a barrel of fun.

  And though I wouldn’t be home until well after nine, I knew I’d likely beat the significant other there by hours. He always stayed late at the office after being out of town.

  As my medical school schedule had ramped up, he’d taken it as an unspoken cue to go back to his workaholic ways. Our time together suffered greatly as a consequence.

  On my way to the bedroom, I stopped by my study to dump my books and check my email. A reply from my brother awaited me. It still seemed weird to use that term—my brother. I read through it immediately, but hesitated before replying.

  He wanted to meet. Part of me really wanted to, and the other part was way too scared.

  Maybe if Adam came with me. Or my mom.

  Or both.

  It was ridiculous, because he was only a man. What was I scared of? I’d have to think it through, and I was way too tired tonight. I flipped on the light and almost jumped out of my skin when I noticed Adam in bed. Asleep.

  What the…?

  I checked the clock—a few minutes after ten p.m. He never went to bed this early. What was up?

  Quickly, I flipped the lights off again before they would wake him. Then I spent the next half-hour tiptoeing around the room, bumping into things in the dark and swearing under my breath as I got ready for bed.

  Finally, feeling as exhausted as he probably did, I skipped my usual bedtime studying to snuggle up beside him and fall asleep early, too. Adam had gone to bed without a shirt on, only sleeping in his underwear. If I wasn’t half dead myself, I might have been tempted to wake him up for a booty call.

  Instead, I rolled over and was out like a light. Only to be awakened a few hours later by his tossing and turning. He was still fast asleep, but he’d kicked the sheet and blanket off and was shivering.

  Half-asleep myself, I reached over, grabbed the sheet from where it was tangled in with his legs, and dragged it up over him again. My hand brushed his arm, and I froze.

  He was burning up.

  Like feverishly hot.

  I placed the back of my hand against his forehead, and he jerked away, moaning, still fast asleep.

  “Adam,” I said quietly, and he didn’t move. So I got out of bed and headed straight for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, where I grabbed the fancy ear thermometer. I doubted there was even one of these in the house before I had gotten sick. As a typical bachelor with uncommonly good health, Adam had likely never thought to equip his home with first-aid supplies. Naturally, I had taken care of that for him.

  I ran the digital thermometer through a quick test to see if the batteries were working, then returned to the bedroom.

  Adam was now on his side, still shivering. “Adam, I need to take your temp.”

  His only reply was incoherent mumbling, so I bent over and stuck the damn thermometer in his ear. He batted my hand away—and not gently. I took hold of his shoulder and shook him, once again noting the heat coming off his skin.

  “Adam, wake up.”

  Slowly, his eyes cracked open. When he saw me standing over him with a medical device in my hand, he shot straight up to a sitting position.

  “What?” he barked.

  “You’re burning up.” I indicated the thermometer in my hand. “I need to take your temperature.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I’m fine.”

  But even with that short outburst, I observed how his voice sounded different, hoarse, a little thick. As if his throat was bothering him.

  “You have a virus or something. I’m not making this up. You’re feverish. Let me stick this in your ear.”

  He took the thermometer and moved it—and my hand—as far away from his head as he could. “You don’t stick things in me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  “Don’t be a smartass.” I let out a long-suffering sigh an
d replaced the thermometer near his face. It just figured that Adam would be a patient from hell. How could I even imagine otherwise?

  “Adam, you were shivering, and your teeth were chattering. Now, unless you want me to stand over you like this all night till you fall asleep again, let me take your goddamn temperature.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “As long as you promise to leave me alone if it’s normal.” I bent down and pushed it into his ear. “Ouch. I still need that eardrum.”

  “Don’t be a baby.”

  A few seconds later, the thermometer beeped. Pulling it out, I read the digital screen—only to almost drop it again in shock. “Holy shit!”

  “What?”

  “Your temperature is 103.4. That’s way too high. You’ve got a virus or an infection.”

  He groaned loudly. “I don’t have time to have a virus.”

  “You don’t have any say in the matter.”

  He reclined against his pillow, his hair damp from perspiration. “Jesus. I feel like shit.”

  “And you have all day, haven’t you? That’s why you were in bed so early. I should have known then.” I set the thermometer on his night table. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “I can guarantee that I’m not going anywhere.” With eyes closed, he rubbed his forehead.

  I went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of acetaminophen and, from an upstairs cupboard, a bottle of water.

  Adam wasn’t in the bed when I returned, but soon appeared from the bathroom.

  “Did you vomit?”

  “No. I peed.”

  I shoved two pills and the bottle at him. “Here. Take this now. And if your temp is not down in thirty minutes, we are taking a trip to the ER.”

  He scowled, took the pills and the bottle, and downed them. “I’m not going to the ER.”

  “You are if I say you are.” I pointed to the bed. “You are running a very dangerous temp. Now, do you feel like taking a tepid shower, or can I run a wet towel over you?”

  With a groan, he sank on the bed, rubbing at his neck. “Neither. And that’s saying a lot that I’m turning down an offer of a sponge bath from you. Even if you were wearing a naughty nurse’s costume.”

  “Is your neck stiff?”

  “No, but I’m achy. It’s a flu.”

  “I’m the med student here, not you.” Crawling onto the bed from my side, I sat beside him. “Any pain in your stomach or abdomen?” I pressed his shoulder so that he was lying flat on the bed.

  “Well, you’re starting to become a bit of a pain.”

  Reaching over, I began to lightly palpitate his stomach and abdomen. I hit upon a swollen spot, and he let out a slight grunt.

  “Your voice sounds weird. Do you have a sore throat?”

  “Sore throat, head ache, body aches, the whole package— Ow.” He jerked away when I reached up to check the glands in his neck.

  “Hmm. Tender.”

  “Tender? That fucking hurt.”

  “I barely touched you. Your glands feel like golf balls. You’ve been vaccinated for parotitis?”

  “Paro-what-is?” he said, sounding exhausted again.

  “Mumps,” I answered.

  “Yeah, I had all the shots when I was a kid.”

  “Then it’s probably mononucleosis.” I pulled the sheet over him. “But that can’t be diagnosed without a blood test.”

  He slumped against his pillow. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

  I bent down and kissed his hot cheek. “I’m sticking this thing back in your ear in twenty minutes. Fair warning.”

  He mumbled something incomprehensible in reply, already half-asleep.

  When I rechecked, his temp had dropped a full degree. With relief, I set the alarm on my phone for three and a half hours, when he could have more medicine. I needn’t have bothered. I stayed awake to make sure he was covered whenever he started shivering, but was uncovered whenever he seemed hot. Instead of sleeping, I sat and read a textbook on my tablet, keeping a watchful eye on my not-so-patient patient.

  In the morning, he only felt worse, and yet—insanely, but unsurprisingly—he wanted to go to work. I threatened to bar the door with my entire body or attach myself physically to his right leg so he’d have to drag me along. And in his state, he wouldn’t have been able to put up a fight even if he tried.

  What really clued me in that he was feeling crappy, though, was that he didn’t argue when I challenged him.

  It did take me a few days to get him to go to the doctor, however. And each day, he got grumpier and grumpier, but also sicker and sicker.

  After my one and only class of the day, I came home late morning, went into his closet, and pulled out some clothes. At his bedside, I stood over him with his clothing choice. He appeared only semi-conscious, with three days’ growth of beard and an ashen complexion.

  “C’mon, sicko. Time to get dressed.”

  He brightened, sitting up. “I do feel better today. I think I might go in for a few hours.” He sat up and put a hand to his head.

  “Head still hurt?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And your temp is still high despite popping pills like crazy. Keeping any food down?”

  “Ugh.” He blinked and pushed his legs over the side of the bed. Figured that the promise of work would have him fighting being half dead in order to get his ass out of bed. Too bad for him we wouldn’t be going to work. I wasn’t going to break that news to him until he was dressed and ready to go.

  “So no food at all? You’re drinking the water I leave by the bed, though, so that’s good.”

  He grimaced. “It makes me have to get up and pee all the time.”

  “You need your fluids.”

  He stood up, fastening his khakis. “If I wasn’t feeling like I’d been dropped off a five-story building, your Dom-doctor routine would be making me so hot right now.”

  “You like playing doctor?” I wrapped my arms around his waist. “How about a really mind-blowing BJ when you feel better?”

  He paused. “A BJ for getting better? Wow, I like this hospital already.”

  I smiled. “Good, because you’re going there. Right now.”

  He froze. “I’m going to work.”

  “The fuck you are.” I put my hands on my hips, standing in front of him. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror? Do you want your employees to scream and run in terror when they see you coming? Zombie boss. Rise of the undead CEO?”

  He blinked, appearing to have to think about it, as if he wasn’t quite capable of complex thought in his state.

  “You’re going to the doctor, Adam.”

  “But you’re a doctor.”

  I shook my head. “Not quite yet. I’m going to take you over to the medical center at the school.”

  “You can’t abduct me and take me where I don’t want to go. We’re not married yet.”

  I stared him down, eyes narrowing. “I can be as stubborn as you, Adam Drake. Stubborner.”

  He hesitated, but I gave him no time to contemplate an escape plan. Tugging his hand, I towed him behind me. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  There was no further argument. Men. So pigheaded, even when practically at death’s door.

  We drove to Orange, to the facility where I’d received the majority of my cancer treatment and where I now trained to become a doctor. When we arrived, the phlebotomist took Adam’s blood before he was assigned an examining room. Adam sat in his underwear, refusing to put on the paper gown they’d offered him. He was scowling, his arms folded across his chest. I turned my face toward the wall, pretending to admire the reproduced artwork while, in truth, avoiding laughing at his pouting.

  He was cute when he was playing the part of the reluctant patient.

  Once I composed myself, I turned to him. “Well, this is a switch…you on the examining table, me the healthy one.”

  “Yeah. Hilarious,” he replied. He’d opened his mouth to say more when the doctor knocked on the door and entered
. Odds were it would be a physician that I knew, but I was pleasantly surprised that it was one of my current instructors, Dr. Sharma.

  She was surprised to see me there, as evidenced by wide eyes and raised brows. “Mia. Hello,” she said, glancing down again at her tablet, which probably displayed Adam’s chart. Adam darted a glance between us. It seemed almost…nervous.

  I quietly asked him, “Want me to step outside?” He shook his head. “Dr. Sharma is one of my instructors.” To her, I said, “Adam is my fiancé. He’s been spiking a high temp over the past three days. Swollen lymph nodes. Body aches. Nausea. Migraine headaches, but he presents those regularly anyway.”

  The doctor glanced down at the tablet. Then she approached him. “Your monospot test results are positive.”

  He cursed under his breath and looked away. I moved up to rub him on his back. “It’s okay. You need to rest and take care of yourself.”

  “Well, I’ll do an ultrasound to check the internal swelling, but basically, yes, you have a viral infection. No physical exertion and no work until I release you to do so.”

  Adam sat up straight at the mention of no work. “How long? A week? Two?”

  She unhooked the wand from the ultrasound machine and held it up. “Let me see what’s going on inside, and I’ll give you a better estimate. Lie back now.”

  She squeezed some gel onto Adam’s perfect abs, and he sucked in a breath.

  “Sorry for the cold,” Dr. Sharma apologized, and Adam rolled his eyes skyward while I fought laughter.

  She moved the wand over his abdomen before angling the screen toward me. Dr. Sharma, it seemed, never passed up a teaching opportunity.

  “What do you see?” she asked me.

  As I bent for a closer inspection, I could feel Adam staring at me balefully, clearly unamused. Jeez, he was crabby.

  I squinted at the screen. “Wow.”

  “What wow?” Adam snarled.

  “Uh huh.” The doctor nodded.

  I turned to Adam. “Your spleen is extremely swollen.” I pointed to his left side at the bottom of his ribcage. “You can even see it distending your abdomen. It’s probably why your shoulder was hurting so badly the other night.”

  “My spleen? Is that a real thing?”