by Misti Murphy
He smirks as his gaze roves over my hair and dress once more. “You’re Cinderella, right?”
“Uh, no.” I spent a lot of time on this Elsa costume. Everything had to be just perfect so when I work birthday parties the little kids know I’m the real deal. “Do you not know your Disney movies?”
“I’m more of an action movie fan.” His breathing has grown labored and the bronze in his skin has a slight tinge of green to it all of a sudden.
“Are you okay?”
“I think it suits you,” he says.
“What? Cinderella?”
“You have that whole rags to riches thing going on.” He indicates my car like he’s showing evidence to a court. “Well, the rags bit anyway. Exhibit A.”
“My car is reliable.” And she’s mine. And that’s all I really want in life. Something that is mine. That I chose. By myself. For myself. We can’t all be hot and handsome celebrities. And not all of us want to be infamous. Some of us, like me, actually, put in the work to try and blend in as much as possible. Some of us just want to keep our heads down and our grades up. Some of us wish we were invisible.
“I could be your attractive prince.” He sucks his lip in between his teeth and when he lets it go it’s all glossy.
“Do you mean Prince Charming?” I get the itch to swipe my thumb over that sheen. Maybe even taste it. My mouth waters. Rogue Maddox is flirting with me, and that’s hard to ignore. “You’re really not as charming as you think you are. If you were you probably wouldn’t be nursing a bullet wound to your backside.”
“Funny story.” He groans when we go over a bump, then chuckles quietly. “I might have been a little too charming for my own good.”
There’s a small puddle of blood on the seat now. And the white shirt that hugs his torso like it’s painted on and proclaims his love for Jesus is turning crimson. “You were only shot in the butt, weren’t you?”
“Must be the shock,” he says. “Keep talking to me, Cinderella.”
“Elsa.”
“Huh?”
“I’m Elsa. From Frozen.”
“That’s hot too,” he grunts.
“So…Jesus, huh?” We’re only about five minutes from the hospital now. Hollywood’s naughtiest scoundrel is not going to bleed out in my car.
“What?”
I glance at him, at his torso and the slogan there. Jesus Rocks. “Your T-shirt.”
“Oh, huh? Shit.” He laughs awkwardly. “I suppose that explains why it’s so damn tight. It’s not mine. It belongs to this girl… anyway, do you normally dress up like Elsa?”
“Sometimes.”
“Any other costumes?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Um, let’s see.” I twist my hands on the steering wheel. We’re almost to the hospital. I can see the building looming up ahead. “Rapunzel. Belle. Snow White. And I do actually have a Cinderella costume too.”
“What about Ariel? Do you have a mermaid tail?”
“Somewhere in my closet,” I admit. Though I don’t get asked to pull that costume out too often.
“Ever tried to do it as a fish?”
“Uh, no.” My cheeks fire. I’ve never tried to do it, full stop. I haven’t even kissed a boy. That’s how lame I am. Well, no, lame probably isn’t the right word. I have trouble talking to the opposite sex. The fact that we’re having this conversation at all is blowing my mind.
“I’ve had that fantasy.” He winks. “Bet you’d be sexy as hell in a clamshell bra.”
My cheeks burn. “So you don’t know Disney? But you know Ariel?”
“There’s just something about mermaids.” His gaze rakes my body like he’s imagining me in my Ariel costume.
My insides tingle at that look. I flex my hands on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t say.”
“Any chance you work at Disneyland?” he continues on, like he wasn’t talking about having sex with a mermaid while eye groping me.
“Kids’ parties.” I pull the car into the driveway outside the emergency entrance and kill the motor.
Pushing my shoulder to the door, I shove it open and rush around to help him out. He leans on me as I guide him to his feet. He sways alarmingly and the blood that’s soaked his T-shirt stains the sleeve of my dress. There’s a small tear in the material about a handspan above his hip. “I think you caught more than one bullet.”
“I’m not feeling too good,” he says as we stagger through the entrance.
Oh Dear Lord. Please let him be alright.
“Don’t you conk out on me. If Jaffa can get you to the hospital, you can wait for a doctor.” Both arms wrapped around his torso I struggle to keep him on his feet. There’s a trail of blood droplets across the floor and back through the doors. I find my voice. “Doctor? We need a doctor. He’s been shot.”
People in the waiting area start to look in our direction.
“You should probably hold off on doing that.” He groans. “In case people recognize me. It might not be the best time to get swamped with fans wanting an autograph.”
“Oh, right.” His six foot four frame does not exactly make him inconspicuous. Pair that with his intense blue eyes and world-famous smile…those tattoos and the piercing in his brow…it’s amazing we’ve made it this far without anyone noticing the movie star.
He bows his head into my neck. His lips vibrate against my skin. “Just going to use you as camouflage, ‘kay?”
I nod. Surely he’s aware that I’m barely a disguise for someone like him. And that’s only because I’m wearing a costume. Normally, I’m so invisible, it’s like I don’t exist. I drag him toward the nurse at reception.
She types away at her desktop without looking up as Rogue clears his throat. “I need a doctor.”
“Just one second,” she says, still not looking up.
“You have to help him,” I butt in.
“It’s okay, Elsa.” He clamps his hand on the back of my neck and rubs small drunken circles with his thumb that are probably meant to be soothing but wake my body up completely. Especially since he seems to be getting heavier with each passing second.
“He’s been shot. Please, please help.” Through sheer power of will I try to make her focus on the man that is starting to slide out of my grip. “He’s bleeding everywhere.”
Finally, she looks up. Gasps as her eyes grow round. “Oh, you’re—"
“A doctor,” I snap. “He needs a doctor.”
“Of course.” She jumps to her feet as she presses a button and requests something in hospital code before straightening and calling for a wheelchair.
“Here, let me help you.” An orderly who is probably in his early thirties appears out of nowhere and suddenly Rogue’s weight isn’t all on my shoulders, but held steady by the muscular man in scrubs. “Let’s get you in this wheelchair.”
“I’d rather not.” Rogue’s voice wavers. He’s so pale and his eyelids droop. “I got shot in the ass. It fucking hurts.”
“You’ve lost some blood,” the orderly says, noticing the trail that leads back out to the parking lot.
All that blood makes me feel lightheaded and dizzy now that I don’t have Rogue’s mass holding me down. “It’s so much.”
“It’s not that bad,” Rogue says.
A palm slides against mine. Fingers curl around mine. I glance down in an out of body way to find Rogue holding my hand. “Stay with me while they check me out?”
“I don’t know…” I feel like I’m going to be sick. Those dark crimson drops are glaring on the beige floors.
“Please,” he begs me, and for the first time since we met there’s no humor in his eyes. Only fear.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Right this way,” the orderly says as he wheels Rogue through the waiting area and into the bowels of emergency.
Another orderly joins us and together they get him out of the chair and face down on a bed in the triage area while a nurse and doctor join them.
I try not to get in the way while t
hey cut away his ruined jeans and shirt. Sticking by the foot of the hospital bed, I cast my gaze at the floor and chew my thumb while the nurse takes his vitals and the doctor asks him questions about what happened. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Other than he asked me to stay.
The doctor examines his entry wounds. “We’re going to need to take you into surgery now.”
“I need to call my brother,” Rogue says. “I need my phone. I need to tell him—”
“I’ll have someone call him,” the doctor says. “We need to take you in now and get those bullets out.”
“My wallet,” Rogue says. “I lost my phone. In the pool. His number is in my wallet.”
“I’ll call.” The orderly grabs his wallet and rifles through it until he pulls out a rectangle with phone numbers written on it in blue ink. “Rebel?”
“Please.” Rogue wheezes in pain.
The orderly hurries off to make the call to Rogue’s twin while the doctor and the rest of his team start to wheel Rogue’s bed toward another set of doors and the surgery that awaits him.
“Hang on,” Rogue says.
“We really need to get you prepped,” the doctor insists.
“Stay with me?” Rogue grabs my hand as they push him past me.
“I can’t.” I hurry alongside him since he’s clutching me like I’m a lifeline. Through the big doors that say “authorized personnel only” in big, black block letters.
“She can’t be in the operating room,” the doctor clarifies.
“Just wait.” Rogue pants.
“Your family will be here soon,” I reassure him. They’ll be waiting for him when he wakes up from the anesthetic the doctor will no doubt have ordered. I’m just a stranger who was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time to help him. But I should not be here when he comes out.
He squeezes my hand. “What’s your name?”
Ivy. It’s Ivy. But I don’t say that. “’Elsa. I told you.”
“Funny.” He grimaces. His lids are so heavy, he seems to be struggling to keep them up. “What is it really?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head. I can’t look him in the eye.
“It does. I’m going into surgery. I need to know that someone real is waiting for me to come out the other side.”
“Your family will be here by then. I’m sure of it.”
“They’re heading out of the city,” he says. “They might not make it in time. Please. I can’t go under without knowing someone I know is waiting for me.”
“But we don’t know each other.”
“Tell me your name,” he insists. “Then we will.”
“Okay, fine.” I sigh. I wish I had the guts to give him my real name. “I’m Uma.”
“Uma, like Uma Thurman?”
“Exactly like that.”
“Uma what?” His palm is a little clammy, and his fingers around mine don’t seem as strong as they were a minute ago.
“Uma Cookie,” I say.
“Uma. Cookie.” His lips turn up in the corners as he shuts his eyes.
“We need to take him into surgery now,” the doctor says.
“Okay.” I stumble to a halt in the hallway as another set of doors loom.
“Wait for me,” Rogue says like he’s scared I’ll forget as our fingertips finally lose contact.
“I will.” I promise as they wheel him through those final doors.
Chapter Three
Rogue
“Hey, I think he’s waking up,” a feminine voice whispers.
“About time.” There’s my grumpy, older-by-one-minute brother.
My eyelids are heavy, but I lever them open. Blink a couple times at the ceiling while my vision adjusts before glancing around the mostly empty private room. No princess to be seen anywhere. Just my twin and his girl.
“Did you see her?” I croak. My throat is dry and kind of tastes like I’ve mistaken cotton balls for cheese puffs and scoffed a bagful. But I have a vision of ice blue eyes and a warm palm clinging to mine.
“Who?” Summer asks from where she’s sitting in my brother’s lap. The chair creaks as she stands. A smile graces her lips as she hovers over me. “It’s good to see you’re awake.”
“Good to see you too.” I glance around to see if there’s any water available. I’d just about drink out of a toilet bowl at this point, like I’ve caught Rebel’s mutt, Dog, doing on numerous occasions. “Water?”
“Sure. I’ll get some.” She turns her attention to my brother. “I’ll find the doctor while I’m at it.”
“Thanks, Red.” His gooey apple pie gaze follows her out of the room. He’s totally smitten.
Which reminds me… “Is the girl still here?”
“What girl?”
It feels like I swallowed razor blades, but honestly it’s going to take a lot more than that to keep me from talking. “The girl… she was with me.”
“Who?” Rebel stands and comes over to the bed. “Here, let me help you with that pillow.”
He tugs and fluffs the cushioning under my head and then raises the angle of the bed until I groan from the pain. “Stop. Stop there. Ooft, that hurts a bit.”
“Well, you did get shot twice. Once in the ass cheek. The other above your hip. Luckily both embedded in your muscle. They took them both out in surgery. What the hell happened?”
“I almost joined a cult.”
“What?”
“Apparently, when you sleep with the cult leader’s daughter you’re supposed to marry her. And you know I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Really? A cult?”
To be honest I’m not entirely certain that it was a cult, but it sounds like a good explanation so I run with it. “Sure. It was a real come to Jesus moment.”
“You’re such an idiot.” He rolls his identical to my own blue-eyed gaze at me. “But at least you’re okay.”
“You missed your flight,” I realize. “Ooh. You are so dead.”
“You’re the one with the bullet wounds, remember.” He shakes his head and grins as he sits back down. “Summer called her brothers. Told them what happened. Burke was almost ready to get on a plane.”
“To come nurse me back to health.” I nod. Of course. He’s the best friend a guy could have.
“I think he misses L.A. but it’s mostly because he misses Summer,” Rebel corrects me. He really does not give a shit about destroying my dreams. “She said we’d go visit as soon as you’re back on your feet.”
“Is Summer going to wear one of those sexy nurse uniforms while she looks after me?”
“Not a fucking chance.” He growls like a grizzly bear. No, like a wolf. God, he’s so territorial over her. Even though we all adore the cute little redhead with the big take no prisoners attitude. “The only person she’s wearing that nurse costume for is me. I’ll hire you a manny.”
“No freaking way.” I’m not paying someone to look after me, and even if I was it wouldn’t be some muscular dude with a handlebar moustache and a monocle. “Wait. I’m on painkillers, aren’t I?”
“Some,” Rebel says eyeing the drip that’s attached to my arm.
“Oh good.” I clutch at the center of my chest where my heart is beating a little too fast. “I just had a vivid hallucination of rich Uncle Pennybags giving me a sponge bath.”
“Hey. You’re awake.” Our younger brother Riot slinks into the room. He perches his lanky, denim wearing ass on the end of the bed. Rests one booted foot on his knee. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks. Aren’t you supposed to be in New York with the band?”
He shrugs. “I came home. I had to see you were okay with my own eyes. You two keep doing stupid shit.”
“I’m fine.” I push myself up a bit further in the bed. It won’t do any good to look weak. Then I’ll be stuck with these two assholes henpecking me.
“I can see that.” The whites of his blue-gray eyes are starting to turn bloodshot like they do when he hasn’t slept. If
that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the dark shadowy moons underneath them would be an obvious indicator. He holds a fist to his mouth when he yawns.
“You should go home and sleep,” Rebel tells him. “Obviously this idiot is fine. And you look like you’ve been going twenty-four-seven.”
“Wild parties, bro.” Riot winks at me. “Wild. Parties.”
“You’ll have to fill me in,” I say. I love a good dose of celebrity gossip. Especially when it’s not about me. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I love when the stories are about me. I’m an A-list rebel. I’m a Hollywood scoundrel. The whole world loves me and I love to entertain.
There’s a knock on the door.
All three of our heads swivel in unison to Rochelle Kitt, who is standing just outside the doorway. Her wide eyed gaze centers on Rebel first as she clings to the framework. It used to be that Rebel and Ro were as close as any of us.
That was, until Alec Hawthorne attacked her in our home. Rebel beat the guy into a hospital bed for what he did to her. Would have killed him if Riot and I hadn’t pulled our brother off the guy. And honestly, if we’d known at the time what had gone down we might have let him, but I’m glad we didn’t, because Rebel ended up doing prison time, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
Rochelle refused to talk about it. Made us promise we’d never spill the tea. And cut off all communication with my twin brother.
Her pale blues brighten with fear and I see both of my brothers tense up. Rebel’s jaw turns to granite and his fists clench around the arms of the chair, but Riot’s whole being turns to stone. Except for his eyes. Yeah, I know what he’s feeling all too well. I pick at the thin hospital blanket like I don’t have a care in the world, but everything about this situation is all fucked up. It’s like being the kids in a custody dispute. It sucks.
To make shit worse, a month ago Hawthorne threatened to hurt Summer, and Rebel’s been even more territorial since then. He tries to hide it. Tries to soak up the happiness he has with Summer and not think about the future, but… we’re all thinking about it.
“Can I come in?” Ro wraps an arm around her waist like she’s trying desperately to keep her guts from tumbling onto the linoleum. She looks a little green too.
