by Jenni Wilder
I grabbed his hand to extricate myself from his grasp and pinned it down on the bed. I knew he would never intentionally hurt me, but he was strong even if he was stoned out of his mind.
“Are you feeling better, baby?”
He nodded his head in an incredibly overexaggerated way and then looked at me with a gleam in his eyes. “I know something that would make me feel even better.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked, humoring him.
“You bring that sexy ass into bed with me and do that thing with your tongue—”
I clapped my hand over Lincoln’s mouth, stopping him from talking. “Lincoln!” I scolded him as my face heated from embarrassment. The only other person in the room was the nurse. She had her back to us, but I could see her shoulders shaking with laughter.
“You are lucky you are injured, mister.” I poked his hard shoulder.
He let out a small cough, and I immediately regretted teasing him. This time he didn’t wince in pain though, and I was grateful for the medicine despite his loopy attitude.
Kennedy returned and stood at the foot of her brother’s bed. “Our mother would like you to call her when you feel up to it.”
Lincoln laughed. “Mother. Brother. Futher.” He puffed his lips out and blew a raspberry.
“They gave him pain meds,” I explained to Kennedy as she looked at me with confusion and concern.
“Oh, thank God. I was about to pull the doctor back in here and have Linc’s head examined.”
A loud burst of laughter exploded out of Lincoln, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him. I’d never seen him like this. I’d never even seen him drunk, so this was definitely entertaining.
Kennedy joined in with our laughter but rolled her eyes. “Jesus. We should keep him doped up like this all the time.”
Lincoln’s doctor returned followed by another nurse.
“Hey! What’s up, Doc?” Lincoln asked with a laugh. His face turned serious as the doctor approached his bedside. “Has anyone ever told you… you have insane eyebrows?”
The nurses and Kennedy laughed while the doctor looked surprised but amused.
“I see the pain meds have kicked in.”
“Oh yeaaaah!” Lincoln replied imitating the Kool-Aid Man.
“We’re going to get a cast on this arm, and then we’ll get you moved into a room for the night. Sound good, Lincoln?”
Kennedy cleared her throat. “I’ve been told to remind you of our request for privacy. Fans will figure out he’s here. I doubt there will be a problem, but if there is, can your hospital security handle it?”
“Ma’am. I understand your concern, but this is LA. He’s not the first celebrity we’ve treated.” Lincoln’s doctor spoke with understanding and compassion in his voice.
“Our other brother has already been contacted by ESPN for a statement. Can you guarantee no one at this hospital will speak to the press without approval from the team and from me?”
What the hell? Was this really going to turn into a media circus?
The doctor never flinched under Kennedy’s serious tone. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there are laws that protect your privacy. We take that very seriously. No one”—he glanced at the nurses—“and I mean no one will release any details of your brother’s treatment to any unauthorized persons. That includes the press, public, or any other hospital staff.”
Kennedy pursed her lips but seem to accept the doctor’s reassurance.
The doctor smiled. “All right, then. Let’s get that cast on.”
“Should I wait outside?” I asked as I released Lincoln’s hand.
He immediately clutched on to me tighter. “No,” he said emphatically. He was totally serious for the first time since they gave him the drugs.
“All right.” I rubbed his shoulder with my free hand. “I won’t go anywhere.” I looked at the doctor who smiled and nodded, confirming I didn’t have to leave.
Kennedy stepped toward the curtain. “I’m going to make sure they know to let Deacon and your coach visit.”
Lincoln wiggled his toes and flopped his head from side to side. “I know a secret. I know a secret.”
Kennedy rolled her eyes and left the room as the nurses and doctor began prepping his arm for the cast.
“What’s the secret, baby?” I asked to distract him.
Lincoln held a finger up to his lips. “Shh…”
“I won’t tell,” I whispered.
“Come closer.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over Lincoln without touching him.
“Closer,” he whispered.
I moved closer and tilted my head so it looked like I was straining to hear him.
“What is it?” I asked in a hush voice when my ear was close to his mouth. Only Lincoln didn’t reply. I turned to look at him with confusion when he suddenly pushed his lips up to mine and kissed me lightly before breaking out in a fit of laughter.
I restrained myself from smacking him. “You’re such a dork.”
He just smiled at me like he was proud of himself and held me next to him with his good arm.
“Once you get better, we’re going to have to have a bunch of people over,” I told him. “Now that the season is over, we can get you all liquored up. You’ll be the life of the party.”
“Party time! Excellent!”
Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, Lincoln was resting comfortably in a private room on the eleventh floor of the hospital. Well, resting would be an overstatement. He had one visitor after another. Half Lincoln’s teammates, his agent, his coach, and the general manager of the Blackhawks had all stopped by to check on him along with the media correspondent for the team. Press releases had to be issued. Reporters wanted interviews. The media wanted juicy news.
My poor Lincoln was hounded with questions and interview requests despite it being obvious he was injured and drugged up. Carter managed to make a deal over the phone. One camera crew would be allowed into the room for a very short interview. Just a simple sound bite that could be used for the sports news. It was enough to satisfy the team’s PR people. After all, the fans needed to know he was going to be okay.
I knew my man was in serious pain, but he backed off on his meds so he could be coherent during the interview. The minute it was over, however, he was back to pushing that happy little button as often as possible. He seemed to be handling the effects of the drugs better, the dopiness tamed down slightly.
So when Lincoln’s hospital room phone rang shortly after Kennedy left to gather our things from the hotel and bring them back here, I wanted to roll my eyes and yank the cord out of the wall. Who else could it be? Seriously. Lincoln needed to rest.
It turned out to be the security guard at the main entrance of the hospital. He had a visitor request. I was about to tell him no, but when I repeated the name, Lincoln smiled and nodded.
“Fine,” I told the security guard over the phone. “But this is the last one.”
A few minutes later, a man I didn’t recognize poked his head into the room. “Can we come in?” he asked in a thick Russian accent.
I’m pretty sure I gasped loudly as the Russian man in the Kings T-shirt stepped into Lincoln’s hospital room followed by a platinum-blond bombshell. I had no idea what this superstar was doing here, but holy crap! I was in the same room as Brit-freaking-Ambush!
She looked stunning in a tight-fitted Kings T-shirt, dark skintight jeans, and sparkling heels. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her. My old, oversized Blackhawks jersey, loose jeans, and tennis shoes looked like rags compared to what she was wearing.
Lincoln’s face broke into a wide smile. “Kotel.” He coughed. “You trying to kill me? Come here to finish the job?”
The lightbulb in my brain clicked on, and I realized this was the player who had taken down my man during the game.
“Nah, man,” he said with a smile. “Just wanted to apologize. Never meant to hit you that hard.” Brit cozied up t
o his side as he spoke, their hands weaving together. Ooh, they must be dating.
Lincoln smiled. Obviously he held no resentment toward his opponent. Despite coming out on the losing end, Lincoln knew being injured was a risk he took every time he stepped on the ice. As long as it was a clean hit, there could be no hard feelings.
“Congrats, man. The Stanley Cup finals. You earned it.” Lincoln slapped the man’s hand with his good one, greeting him.
“Not like this.”
“Save it,” Lincoln said, with a grimace of pain. “It’s a brutal game.”
Kotel sighed but nodded. Lincoln wouldn’t accept the apology, but Kotel seemed satisfied that he at least tried to make amends.
“Jillian,” Lincoln said as he tugged on my hand. I had been standing next to his bed in shock, just staring at Brit. “Kotel, this is my girlfriend, Jillian. Kotel and I were rookies together.”
“I was not a rookie.” Kotel’s tone turned harsh, and Lincoln laughed. “I played professionally in my country for years before coming here.” His accent was beautiful and especially thick while he was explaining himself.
Lincoln laughed again. This was clearly a running joke between the two men.
Brit tugged on Kotel’s sleeve, and tipped her head toward us when she got his attention.
“Oh, sorry, lyubov,” he said, slipping in what I could only guess was a Russian term of endearment. “Lincoln, Jillian, this is Brit.”
Brit rolled her eyes at Kotel but smiled as she held her hand out, first to Lincoln then to me. “Brit Ambush. I’m so sorry you got hurt. I hope you’re able to recover quickly.”
I couldn’t speak. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, numbly shaking her hand. I had never met a celebrity before. Well, other than Lincoln and his teammates. There were so many things that I could say, but no words would come out of my mouth. Hello? Nice to meet you? I’m a big fan? But no. I wasn’t able to articulate any of those words.
Lincoln’s chuckled drew me out of my astonished daze. “Jillian’s a big fan,” he informed Brit.
“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed as I tried to string words together to make a sentence. “He—I mean we—I mean him and I—we—um—”
Brit’s face broke out in a wide, friendly smile. She patiently nodded while I tried to utter a complete sentence. And I was still shaking her freaking hand!
I dropped her hand and shook my head quickly, trying to erase my awkwardness.
“Um—I’m sorry—I—um—we—saw you in Chicago. At a concert in Chicago. When you were in Chicago.”
Oh my God. Stop saying Chicago!
“Oh yeah?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested. “Did you enjoy it?”
I nodded my head rapidly. It had been one of the best nights of my life. “It was our first official date.”
“Oh, how sweet. I’m honored.” Her voice rang true with conviction, as if she really felt honored that our first date was at her concert.
Wow. She was nothing like I would have imagined. I had to admit, I assumed she would be shallow and vain like Mackenzie. Maybe it was the fact they were both drop-dead gorgeous. I assumed the similarities between the two would extend to their personalities as well. But they didn’t. Mackenzie never acted this nice unless she wanted something, and there was no way Brit could want anything from me, so I hoped this wasn’t an act. Maybe she was just a charismatic person.
“Come on, Jillian. Let’s go for a walk and leave the boys to discuss hockey.”
I stared at her, blank faced. “Me? You want to go on a walk with me?” She may not have been acting like Mackenzie, but I was still leery when meeting someone new.
She waved her hand, inviting me to join her. “Well, yeah! Come on.”
I looked down at Lincoln. I wasn’t asking for permission to leave, but I didn’t want to go if he wanted me here.
“Don’t go too far, baby,” he said, letting me know it was okay.
I bent over him and kissed him quickly on the lips. “We’ll be back soon.”
He nodded and gave me a small smile as I walked around the bed to follow Brit.
“Brody,” Lincoln said, causing me to look to the corner of the room where my bodyguard had been camped out all evening. I cringed when I realized I had forgotten about him. I would have left without him had Lincoln not said something.
Brit laughed when she saw my expression. “Don’t worry. Mine are in the hall.”
Her what? I thought as we stepped through the doorway. Two giant muscular men in trendy jeans and T-shirts flanked Lincoln’s hospital room door.
Brit turned to address them. “Guys, this is Brody. He’s Jillian’s. Don’t shoot him.”
Oh. Her bodyguards. She thought I was embarrassed about having a bodyguard.
Her two giants turned and nodded at Brody, giving him the once-over as Brody did the same. I’m sure analyzing everyone they encountered was a force of habit with their profession.
Brit’s heels clicked on the floor as we meandered down the hospital hallway, without a real destination in mind. Maybe it was because it was getting late in the evening, but this floor seemed fairly devoid of people. With the exception of a few nurses and orderlies who popped in and out of a room a couple of doors down from Lincoln’s, we seemed to be the only ones here.
One of Brit’s bodyguards walked in front of us, and the other behind us with Brody. The five of us must have looked like a small flock of geese flying in a V formation as we walked down the hallway. I doubted we needed so much protection, but Brit seemed oblivious to the guys surrounding us, so I followed her lead.
“So how long have you two been together?” Her bright eyes were wide with friendly intrigue.
I forced myself to relax and act like she was just a normal person and not a celebrity. After all, that’s what had attracted Lincoln to me in the first place. Maybe most celebrities just wanted to feel normal.
“Almost six months,” I answered with a warm smile. It seemed like so long and yet so short at the same time. “What about you and Kotel?”
“Almost a year.”
I looked up at her with surprise, and she laughed.
“Don’t act so surprised,” she chided.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard you were dating that guy from Crime Ghosts.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed, and I instantly felt stupid for listening to celebrity gossip.
“Don’t believe everything you hear. People will write anything to make money, but at least that rumor was fairly benign. Mickey and I kept things private when we first started dating, but we’re not hiding it anymore.”
“Mickey?” I asked as we wandered into an empty lounge area. Uncomfortable-looking chairs and couches were scattered around an old television. An out-of-date vending machine offered candy bars and prepackaged sandwiches. I wondered how long they had been sitting in there, waiting to give someone food poisoning.
Brit laughed again as she looked out the window. “Everyone calls him Kotel, but I just couldn’t do that. Mikhail seems so formal, so I shortened it to Mickey. He hates it.”
The mischievous look in her eyes made me laugh. “That’s awesome,” I told her. It said a lot about their relationship.
Her face slowly fell and turned serious. “Lincoln’s not in the gossip columns much, but I hated that last shit they wrote about you two.”
I shrugged. “People are going to believe what they want.”
She shook her head. “That’s like sacred, though. Whether or not you see a therapist should be your private business.”
Just the fact that she had brought up this subject made me paranoid that she was fishing for information, but the way she said it didn’t seem like she was being nosey.
“I had some shit happen to me as a kid. I’ve been seeing a therapist for years. We’re not sure why or even how those reporters found out about it.”
She leaned against the ledge of the window. “If it had just been one reporter waiting for you, I’d say he either fol
lowed you or got a lucky tip from someone who recognized you or Lincoln. But he would have wanted an exclusive. He would have made sure he was the only one who reported that story. Since there was more than one reporter waiting for you, I’d say someone close to you tipped them all off. Called all of them to create a scene. Someone wanted it known that you were there.”
My heart sank in my chest. “You really think so?”
She nodded. “Trust me. I’ve been dealing with tabloid reporters for years. I know how they operate.”
I got lost in thought as I watched the Los Angeles skyline. Someone close to me tipped them off? My family knew I was seeing Dr. Raussman, but no one but Lincoln and Rebecca knew when I had an appointment. Well, no one but them and Dr. Raussman’s secretary who I had e-mailed to make the appointment.
E-mail.
I gasped and ran out of the room.
“Hey!” I heard Brit shout as I left her alone.
“Jillian!” Brody shouted from behind me.
I ran as fast as I could to Lincoln’s room, surprising him and Kotel in the middle of their conversation about video games.
He held his side as he tried to sit up a little. “Jillian, what’s wrong? Where’s Brody?”
“Lincoln, I figured it out!”
Kotel stood up from the chair next to Lincoln’s bed. “Where’s Brit?!” His voice was laced with concern.
I began to pace at the foot of his bed. “It’s probably the same person who deleted my thesis and sent me the virus. I bet anything!”
Brody burst into the room just then followed by Brit and her bodyguards.
“What the hell was that?” she asked me, but she didn’t sound pissed, just confused.
Lincoln glared at Brody.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t expect her to run.”
“Stop. Stop. Stop. Just listen to me,” I begged Lincoln. I needed to explain my theory before I forgot any of it. “I didn’t call Dr. Raussman’s office that day for an appointment. I e-mailed his secretary. I thought it would be easier to e-mail her if she was busy. Then she could get back to me when she had time.”
