by Eve R. Hart
“In,” she said, lifting her hand to push my head away. “Bedroom, I don’t want blood on my couch.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that for two reasons. One, yeah blood was a bitch to get out of shit. And two, hell yeah, I’d go to her bedroom!
“Easy,” she said as she ripped the comforter off and did her best to lower me down gently. “This is a fucking mess,” she mumbled, I was pretty sure to herself.
She reached over and flicked on a small lamp beside the bed. One that looked more like it was there purely for decoration because it didn’t cast enough light to do much. You couldn’t read by it unless you were maybe a vampire. I suspected its only purpose was to allow you to tuck yourself in at night so you weren’t stumbling around in the dark after you flipped off the overhead light.
Leaning back on her plethora of pillows, I took her in for the first time. Muted, lavender scrubs. Nurse I would have guessed. Now the scent of cold and sterile made sense. Maybe it was my lucky night after fucking all.
“Can you, um, take your clothes off?”
I gave her a tiny nod because I wasn’t sure I could even lift my arm let alone shift my body on my own. This wasn’t some perverted attempt to get her to undress me. Missed opportunity right there.
“We need to get this chain off,” she said, her eyes on her fingers as the undid they buttons of my shirt.
“Bolt cutters.”
“Do you think I just keep such things lying about my house?” Her look was one of frustration.
Yeah, I imagined that was a no.
“Oh, shit,” she said as she pushed the once soft fabric of my shirt away from my body.
I knew the fabric was most likely more red than white at this point, but then again, I did have my jacket over it and therefore, hid a lot of the blood seeping from my wounds.
Her eyes slowly looked up into mine and right that second, I could see the emotions shining in her eyes. I clenched my jaw. This woman, this stranger, looked as if she was about to cry. No doubt she’d seen things just as bad as this at some point in her life, being a nurse and all.
“I’ve had worse,” I said trying for funny. To this, she raised one of her thick brows as if testing me. “Okay, no, I haven’t. But close.”
I reached up and touched the scar from the bullet wound on my shoulder. I didn’t have to tell her what it was, she knew, and her non-reaction to that was a total flip from what I’d just seen a moment ago.
“You’re trouble.” It was a statement, an observation to the scene in front of her. And I didn’t have to words to tell her she was wrong.
Then she was off, her light steps carrying her to the attached bathroom. The light was bright as it spilled into the dimly lit room. She reappeared holding the biggest first-aid kit I’d ever seen. In a blink, her eyes were focused, her brow creased with determination and I could see she had flipped her nurse switch.
“Easy,” I said as she reached for the zipper on my pants. Her hand paused an inch from their destination as she looked up at me. “I’m a human pincushion all over. Just be careful, please.” I whispered the last part. I hated that I sounded weak but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
With a nod, she got back to work. I shifted as much as I could to help her wrangle the pants free from my body. Her eyes scanned my legs, taking in the damage.
“Oh, wow,” she said as she met my underwear and she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of her throat, not even as her hand slapped over her mouth. “Is that…a thong for men? Its even got the little pouch pocket.”
“Hey, it’s not little.” I shook my head in mock disgust.
“You’re right. So sorry, sir. That was…well, I’d say unprofessional of me, but I’m off the clock. I’ve had a very long day and I don’t feel like filtering myself.”
“Fair enough,” I said and tried to shrug. “Tell me about your day.”
I needed a distraction and it might have been best if we both had one. Anything to take my mind off of the pain and to take hers away from the fact that there was a stranger in her bed that was currently wearing nothing but a man-thong and clearly in some kind of trouble.
“I work in the Emergency Unit. With Sara Ann, actually,” she started. “I knew it was going to be a long shift, because the moment I closed my locker, chaos ensued.”
She tipped some sort of bottle onto my chest, the liquid cold at first then came the burning, searing pain like my flesh was being peeled off.
“Shhh,” she scolded as she wiped up my chest with a huge pad of gauze. “Here. Bite on this.”
And before I could say anything back she was shoving something thick and big in my mouth, and no this was not kinky even a little. The object curled towards me and my eyes crossed as I tried to make out what was in front of me.
“What is this?” I asked as best as I could with a book spine shoved in my mouth and my teeth having a death grip on its cover.
More liquid.
More burning.
More thrashing and cries of pain, only this time they were muted.
“A book.”
“I know it’s a book.” I had a feeling that none of that was intelligible. But she seemed to know what I was getting at. I stared at the half-naked man that seemed to boop me on the nose every time I squirmed.
“Then why did you ask if you knew what it was?” Her eyes flicked up to look into mine, the ghost of a smile toying at her lips. “Romance, if that’s what you were wanting to know.”
Then I was intrigued. Because this beautiful woman in front of me not only read sexy romance novels, but she didn’t even blush at the admission.
I didn’t know why, but I found it hot as fuck.
She continued working, choosing to focus on the cuts and gashes first. She went on talking about her day, eyes on what she was doing the whole time. I tried my best to listen, to focus on every word that passed through her luscious lips. It helped a little. I knew that there wasn’t going to be an easy part of this and I was dreading, absolutely dreading, the part where she was going to start taking out the little sticks.
“A few of these need stitches,” she said after cleaning me off. “I can do it, I just need you to be still. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded, the pages of the book flopping around in the air as I did so. Her tired smile was a welcomed reward.
It wasn’t long after that when I couldn’t fight consciousness any longer. I didn’t even remember my eyes closing as the last little bit of strength I had remaining left my body.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Rosemarie
He passed out right as I tied off the first stitch. I was surprised he’d made it this long. He must have had some willpower behind all those muscles, that was for sure. Okay, yes, he was in bad shape and I shouldn’t have been looking, but he was currently nearly naked sprawled out on my bed, it was hard not to notice his body. And those underwear. I couldn’t get over them. I mean not in a sexy way. I definitely wasn’t thinking about how they held him in when he was hard. No, that would be really, really wrong. But there was something about a man as big and manly as him not only wearing them, but not having any shame in it. It made them more sexy somehow.
He was charming, yes, in the kind of way that he knew that he was. The kind of way that made me want to smile and roll my eyes at the same time. I could only imagine him on a normal day, when he wasn’t struggling through such pain. But that wasn’t why I helped him out. I honestly couldn’t put a finger on the reason why I had, though. There was something about his blue eyes that held a calm warmth. And as odd as it sounded, it was like they reached into my soul and whispered words of how he wouldn’t hurt me.
It wasn’t really like me to take risks in life. I parked in the back of the building, right under the street light, not even twenty feet from the door to the stairs. To me, it was safer than parking out front on the street. I had never felt unsafe or uneasy walking from my car to the building. This was a pretty safe part of town,
which was why I’d chosen to live here. So this, taking a stranger into my home, was not like me at all. And it wasn’t like I was welcoming a door to door salesman in because this guy had clearly gone through some shit. This was dangerous, whatever situation he was running from. And I had just put myself right in the middle of it. Stupid, stupid me. Even with all that said, I wasn’t about to turn him away.
I went into work mode even though my eyes were heavy and dry. I wanted a shower and sleep. Maybe even a late night snack at some point in there. It looked like I wouldn’t be getting any of that. Instead, I was getting more blood and dirt on me.
I watched as the curved needle pushed through his skin, sewing the horrid gashes back together. He looked like someone used him as a punching bag, pin cushion, and chopping dummy all at the same time. It was gruesome and cringe-worthy. I’d seen worse but at the same time, to know that there was someone out there that had not only wanted to do this to any other person, but actually took the time to do so, really started to mess with my head. I knew there were people out there that were sick and twisted, I’d just never come across anything like this before.
It made me scared. It made me want to cry. It made my heart ache for this man in front of me that had to endure it all.
I finished stitching him up then dressed all his open gashes. There were so many bruises all over his body. I did my best to check them over, carefully going over his ribs to see if I could tell if they might be broken. I tried to focus on what I was doing, but watching my fingers glide over his warm, smooth skin somehow started to put me into a trance.
“What the hell are you doing?” I mumbled out loud to myself. This man was unconscious and here I was feeling him up.
I shook my head and got to work with all seriousness in my head. I could tell that he’d taken a brutal beating, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own or leave lasting damage. I breathed a small sigh of relief for him. I shifted him as best as I could to check over his back, which I found to be dirty, but free of serious wounds. There was some deep coloring of bruises and I suspected that they weren’t anything like what was on the rest of him.
Just as I went to release him, I noticed a tattoo that covered his shoulder blade. The light in the room was too dark for me to make out more than a bunch of black lines and shading. I let my mind fill in the blanks with some imaginary picture as I rolled him on his back again.
He really needed to go to the hospital. And though he hadn’t outright said it, I could tell that was off the table. He was trying to avoid it and maybe I could understand that a little given what I’d seen.
I took a moment to take in his features. I imagined without all the swelling and the deep-set discoloration that he was quite handsome. His brow strong. His nose regal. His lips…well, they were honestly perfect. Some might have said kissable, the bottom just a little bit fuller than the top and both meeting to make perfect points at the crease. I could almost picture how soft they would be if they weren’t all dry and cracked—and, you know, caked with dried blood.
Taking in a deep breath, I told myself it was time. I was going to have to pull these giant splinters out one by one and I knew it wasn’t going to be fun. Probably even less so for him. At some point, this was going to jolt him awake, I knew that and so I was prepared for it.
I surveyed each one, noting that they hadn’t gone into any place that could cause real damage. I had no idea how deep they were but if I had to guess, they were no longer than six inches. And since most of them had a good inch or two sticking out, they couldn’t have been in too deep. Enough to cause an extreme amout of pain and discomfort. Most of them seemed to be at an angle that told me they were pushed in sideways, as if to go under the skin. This was something designed to torture this man. To make him squirm and writhe with pain.
Then my mind went there because there was simply no way to help it. Why did someone want to torture this man? What could he have done to warrant such a sick and sadistic thing? What was it that he was hiding? Or perhaps, he knew something that he was unwilling to share.
“What are your secrets?” I whispered like the universe would somehow shoot a lightning bolt down that held all the answers. “Not, important,” I murmured, and with a shake of my head, I got to work.
With a slow and steady hand, I grabbed the base of the one lodged into his rotator cuff. With my free hand, I press the firm skin around it. My sleeping stranger moaned but didn’t wake. It seemed to have missed the tendons from what I could tell. The muscles were punctured, but it would heal.
Slow. That was the way this had to go. I knew that if I yanked it out there was a chance that my hand could jerk or twist and I could end up causing more damage. So as slowly as I could manage, I began to slip the stick from his skin. Another moan and this time his body flinched, but I held him down and continued my work. Once it was free, I let out a sigh of relief.
“That sucks,” he said, his voice thick and raspy. I only jumped slightly because I didn’t suspect him to be conscious again.
His eyes blinked then they were searching out mine.
“I’m sorry, “ I whispered lamely, because what else could I really say?
“Don’t be,” he said and let his eyes close again. “I appreciate it. And besides, you are much more beautiful than the person that put those in.”
I felt a small tug at the corner of my lips. I wanted to smile but felt it would be wrong.
I kept going, pulling each one out as slowly and gently as I could, cleaning each puncture wound delicately after I was finished. He did his best to hold his body still, only letting out a few long groans of pain here and there. His jaw was taught and I could tell he was clenching his teeth to fight the pain. For some reason, this only made me feel a bigger tinge in my heart for this man.
“This is the last one,” I said, my hand hovering way too close to his manly bits, the ones that weren’t currently covered by much at all.
My hand pressed down on his thick thigh. The muscles twitched under my touch and his body seemed to shudder. I did my best to ignore it as I moved on.
“There,” I said, dropping the bamboo evilness on the bed with all the others.
“Thank you,” he said as his marred up hand caught mine. His face was open. The little hints of the charmer were gone. His eyes were murky and tired, but as they looked into mine, something washed through them.
“You should rest,” I said with a small nod. “I’ll see about getting something to remove that from your neck.”
I slipped off the bed, bending over to collect the mess of soaked gauze and implements of torture. Only once I was partially hidden in the bathroom, did I breathe a long needed sigh of relief.
This was not how my night was supposed to go. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had ended up stopping at the late night diner for some food. I’d been craving a BLT all day and the moment I clocked out, had decided I was going to treat myself.
It was only once I sat in my car and the action of the day seeped into my bones that I decided to choose sleep over food. Shower and bed had been the new plan. I didn’t believe in such things as fate and what have you, but it seemed like there was some kind of weird spell in the air tonight. Some kind of signal calling me home when I was needed. Still didn’t change the fact that I was exhausted. Or that I didn’t even know this stranger’s name. Or the fact that he was the first man I’d had in my bed in over a year—and I hadn’t even gotten any enjoyment out of it. That last part I almost had to laugh at.
Desperately needing a breather and a bottle of water, I made my way out to the kitchen. What I really could have used right now was a shot of vodka to quell my nerves and a strong cup of coffee to keep me going.
I had no idea how to remove a padlock. Yes, bolt cutters were the obvious answer, I’d had to do that a time or two at work. But that was not an option right now. And other than that, I was at a loss.
So what did any person in this day an age do when they needed answers
?
Yep, I pulled out my phone and looked for videos. Wow, there were quite a few ways it could have been done. I didn’t currently have any soda cans lying about, I hated sugary drinks, so creating a makeshift shim was out of the question. I did have safety pins somewhere, so cutting the thick heads off of them and wiggling them around until I got the click and release I was looking for was an option. Though, I wasn’t sure exactly where those safety pins were at the moment.
But then I saw one that used two open-end wrenches. That I could do. I had a small toolbox under the kitchen sink for little things that I knew I could take care of on my own. I downed the bottle of water, sought after the right tools, grabbed a couple of bags of frozen peas, and then headed back into the bedroom.
He was out, the slight snores of his deep breathing filling the room. I placed the bags of peas on his face to help with the pain and swelling, making sure not to cover his nose or mouth.
Carefully, I maneuvered the padlock in a way that I could get to it how I needed it. Then I hooked each wrench around the U of the lock like I’d seen, with the ends creating a V. With all my strength, I gripped the two ends and tried to pull them together. I was sure this wasn’t going to work, seeing as in the video, what it did was break the metal that held the lock in place. I had a feeling the side wasn’t going to pop off like it did when I watched it.
An odd excitement shot through me as I felt it buckle under my pull. I kept on, a grunt slipping out of me as the ends of the wrenches dug into my palms. Then, with a snap, it broke free and the metal U was dangling there ready to be pulled free. I was honestly stunned and kinda sad that no one had been around to witness it. Damn. I kinda felt like a real badass for just a second there.
I lifted his head just enough to wrangle the chain free, then tossed everything into the bag he had been carrying. I wasn’t even going to ask about that. I mean, I really wanted to. Why was this man carrying around a woman’s purse? It was clear the only reason he’d had it was to hold the weight of the chain more easily. It made sense. But what didn’t make sense, was how he had gotten the purse in the first place. Or, you know, the fact that he had a chain around his neck, to begin with.
