Reclaimed

by Vicki Green

  Once the zipper is down, he pulls the straps of my dress over my shoulders and down my body, my bag dropping to the floor along with my dress. He steps back, and his eyes blaze a trail down then back up my body. I’m standing here breathing heavily in my strapless red bra and soaked thong. “Magnificent.” I begin to take a step towards him, wanting to start removing his shirt, but instead he removes it himself. He may be lean but damn if he doesn’t have muscles and wash-board abs. I watch as he removes his dress pants then his boxers. I was right about his length. It’s long, and the girth is more than I think will fit inside me. I lick my lips as he takes it in his hand, stroking up and down – slowly. “Remove your bra,” he says in a serious tone. I comply, dropping it beside me. I start to push down my thong but he stops me. “Don’t. I want to rip them from you with my teeth.” Oh my!

  And he did just that. I found myself on my back on the firm mattress. His hands molested each breast, delectably. He ripped off my thong with his teeth then his mouth devoured my core. His teeth found my aching clit, biting, then his tongue licked and pressed. My heels start digging into his fine ass, and it only spurred him on. “Fuck, you taste amazing,” he said against my wetness, vibrating against my clit. True to his word, he gave me the best orgasm of my life by his magical mouth, tongue, and fingers. I came so hard I saw stars yet that spark I desire so much was not in sight. Still, he just rocked my world, something I needed desperately. I came again once his condom covered cock was inside me. Not once but twice. I guess I was more than overdue.

  Once we finished and he cleaned us both, I lay in his arms trying to make a decision. I hate waking up in an unfamiliar place. I don’t want to knock him off the bed with my awkward sleeping habits. Do I want to do the walk of shame now or in the morning? The decision is made for me as my phone starts beeping, muffled in my evening bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Shit! I’d forgotten I’m on call at the hospital, or it could be Brooke trying to get juicy tidbits outta me about my night. She’s always been impatient. I look up and find him asleep. Carefully, I crawl out from under the weight of his arm and across the mattress, hanging over and reaching into my bag. After swiping the screen, I open my texts and see one from the hospital. “Shit,” I whisper. Quickly, I look over my shoulder. His breathing is light in his sleep. Carefully, I climb off the bed and hurriedly get into my dress, remembering his teeth ripping apart my thong. I walk to the doorway and turn my head. He’s still deep in slumber. Thank fuck! It’s not hard to do the walk of shame from his penthouse into the elevators, and I’m lucky to find no one in the lobby at this late or early hour. I walk out the front doors, remembering that he drove me here and Brooke and I took a cab to the club. I can’t even make a fast escape without my car. Dammit! Reluctantly, I walk back inside, luckily finding an attendant at the front desk, and tell them I’m in need of a cab and that it’s an emergency. Most likely she thinks it’s an emergency because I’m doing the walk of shame – me knowing it’s because I need to get to work, but I have no intention of explaining.

  A cab shows up out front within a few minutes and takes me home. I run to my apartment, change clothes into clean scrubs, brush my teeth, and pull my hair up in a messy bun then spray some fragrant spritz all over me hopefully to hide the sex smell that encases me. I wish I’d had time to take a shower. I’m out the door and in my Ford Focus in a matter of ten minutes. Once I’ve made it up to the ICU, I walk quickly to the nurse’s station.

  “What’s up?” I ask breathlessly.

  Alex, one of our male nurses, looks up from the monitor in front of him. “New patient. Short staffed. The usual.” Of course. He looks back down at the monitor. “Room five. Just brought in from surgery. Multiple gunshot wounds. Laceration across the left cheek. Paramedics almost lost them, twice, on the way here.” He looks up at me. “There’s police guarding the door. Must be dangerous.” Great. I give him a nod and turn to head towards room five. “He’s hot.” I turn my head and look at him waggling his eyebrows. I roll my eyes and try not to laugh as I start walking again.

  I stop short as I round the corner. There’s two policemen standing on either side of the door. Taking a deep breath I approach, ready to do my job. When I start to reach out to open the door, one of the policemen places a hand on my shoulder. He looks at my ID pinned to my top and finally nods his approval, allowing me to go inside. I walk into the room and one of the men outside closes the door behind me. I walk to the bed and start checking all the monitors behind it. Finally, I step back, taking the blood pressure cuff and look down to place it around the patient’s arm. I stop cold when I see dark hair on their arm and look up. It’s a man. Black hair hangs down his forehead, reaching down slightly over his ears, and down his neck. Small curls wisp from behind. Dark black eyebrows, thin nose, and the most luscious lips. The left side of his cheek is covered with gauze, remembering Alex saying he had a laceration there. Probably needed stitches. Wrapping the cuff around his large bicep, I watch the monitor. It’s extremely low. After placing the instrument back on its stand, I walk down to the foot of the bed and pick up the electronic chart.

  Gunshot wound in right leg, left shoulder, two on either side of his stomach, and twelve stitches on the left side of his face from a large cut. I look up and wonder how he’s still alive. I look back down, my eyes scanning the chart frantically. The first thing I find is rather odd. Instead of a name at the top it simply says “John Doe”. Major blood loss, crashed twice. Once at the scene and the other in the ambulance. Setting the chart down, I walk back over to his side. A sheet covers his bare chest. I turn my head and look at the door then back down as I reach over and slowly pull the sheet down. I swallow hard as I take in his broad chest, the ridges and plains of his muscular pecks and well-defined abs. Pulling the sheet down further, I see the bandages covering the two wounds and am mesmerized by the shallowness of his breathing. He escaped death twice but for how long? I can’t stop myself from placing my fingers on his chest, touching lightly, and feeling how soft his skin is. My heart begins to excel as I run them down until I feel the muscles at the top of his abdomen. His skin color appears to be tanned or maybe it’s his heritage. Suddenly, his chest stops moving, and my eyes snap to his face. His eyes are open halfway and looking into mine from beneath exceptionally long dark lashes. I’m fixated on how brown they are until they close abruptly as he winces in pain.

  Shaking my head bringing me out of my stare, I immediately reach for his IV tube, removing the cap and reaching into my pocket for a shot of Morphine I’d brought in. I shove the needle into the opening and push on the end until it’s empty. Once I’ve capped off the tube I look down to find him staring at me again. He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t hear anything. I take the step over to him and bend down until our faces are but an inch away.

  “It’s you,” he says struggling to speak.

  My brows furrow with his words. Do I know him? I step back and watch his eyes close slowly. I don’t remember ever seeing him before. He sleeps peacefully as I rack my brain. I couldn’t know him. He’s obviously in trouble with the law. Possibly a criminal. Tilting my head, I study him again. He’s beautiful. How can someone so gorgeous, with such a magnificent body, be in trouble with the law? It’s a shame. Why are all the good looking men either taken or in trouble? I purse my lips, wondering what they’d feel like against his. Now, I’m wondering how I can be thinking this way when the man is so injured, nearly losing his life, and obviously someone I shouldn’t want to be with. And after having sex only a short time ago with multiple orgasms. Because he’s a bad-boy, and he intrigues you. Let’s not forget those abs and large biceps. Oh, my God! I’m deranged!

  Reluctantly, I leave his room, noticing the two police officers giving me a once over. Did they think I would be sneaking him out under my scrubs? I let out a quiet snort as I walk to the next room.

  A twelve hour shift is exhausting. A sixteen hour shift is beyond what anyone should have to endure. But since I got called in earl
y, that’s exactly what I had. I head home at the end of my long day and night and numbly walk into my apartment, lock up, and head straight for my room. I’d noticed multiple texts from Brooke throughout my shift but never had time to respond. I was too busy. Once reaching my bed, I fall onto the mattress, pull the covers over me and close my eyes, drifting off immediately.

  I awoke to bright sunlight invading my once darkened shroud. Uncovering my head, I find I’m at the foot of the bed. After taking a very hot and very overdue shower, I get ready for work again, feeling like I just left there. Once at the hospital, I feel a little renewed. Curiosity gets the best of me as I think about the bad-boy in the police guarded room. I walk down through the nurse’s station and turn the corner, only to find the policemen gone. What the…? Quickly, I walk to the door and open it, finding the room empty of the stranger that had me mesmerized the night before. Did he…? Closing the door, I walk back to the nurse’s station and sit down in front of the monitors. I pull up his chart and scan over the comments made only hours ago. My heart lodged in the base of my throat beating wildly.

  Patient transferred.

  Why would they transfer him? Maybe to a medical facility at a prison? I read more and my heart stops.

  Classified.

  Well, shit. Now, I’ll never know who he is or even his name. My heart sinks.

  4

  Two Years Later...

  “I’m jealous that you get to go home for a visit next week.” Brooke and I’ve been discussing my week vacation, getting to go home and spend some time with my dad. I’m more than excited. I haven’t been home in seven months and even then the week flew by and I didn’t want to leave him. I hate that I live so far away. “Tell Mr. Clancy “hi” for me.” She snorts. The librarian in our small town. Shit, he was so old when we were younger. I wonder if he’s still alive?

  It’s a twelve hour drive to our neck of the woods. A small town that’s close to the ocean. The house I grew up in, a modest ranch, sits on a hill overlooking the water. It was the best town to be raised in and also the hardest. Everyone seemed to know your business, no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Yet, when Mom and Bobby died, there was an overwhelming pouring of love and support, also enough food to fill our kitchen for a year from all the dishes that were brought over.

  “I wish I was going with you.” She sighs. I lean over and give her a hug. I wish she was too. The long car ride alone will be filled with only my voice singing at the top of my lungs.

  “Christmas time we’ll be going together,” I whisper over her shoulder as we hug. My favorite holiday even though it’s not been the same after Mom and Bobby died. Still, my dad and I decorate as if they were there and try to go about our normal traditions.

  She nods, her chin rubbing against the bone in my shoulder. “I know but that’s still nine months away.” She sniffs. I hope she’s not snotting up my shirt.

  My phone starts vibrating across the coffee table. Releasing my hold on Brooke, I lean forward and pick it up, swiping the screen and seeing an unfamiliar number. Normally, I don’t answer them but my gut feeling tells me I should. “Hello?”

  “Good morning. This is a courtesy call from Builders Mortgage. We have yet to receive your payment for January.” What? It’s March! This is so strange.

  When I turned eighteen, after I graduated from high school and was about to leave for college, Dad had surprised me with the news that he’d added my name to the house deed. He’d told me that if anything would happen to him, he wanted to make sure the house was in my name. He knew how much I loved growing up there and wanted to make sure I’d have my home to always come back to. One thing about my dad, he’s meticulous about everything. Being a retired sales representative and then a sales manager, he’s always prided himself on his organization skills. Never in my life has he ever been late for anything especially paying bills.

  “I’m sorry. That’s so odd. Did you try to call my dad?” My heart is beating too hard, and I feel like I can’t breathe.

  “Yes, Ma’am. We’ve tried several times and have left numerous messages. He has not returned our call.”

  I look at Brooke with wide eyes. She mouths “What?” to me.

  “Thank you. Please give me the total owed for January and February and I’ll look into this as soon as possible. I’ll call you back as soon as I know.” She gives me the total, and I nod as she gives me the number to call again, like I can’t look on the logged calls on my phone. I end the call and quickly try calling Dad. Brooke hits my arm and as I rub where she hit, I’m reminded of her doing that awhile back. Okay, more than that. She does it constantly. I don’t look at her as I nervously tap my foot, the ringing over and over in my ear. No answer. I end the call and look through my contacts, finding Brooke’s mom’s number and hit call. Brooke swipes at my arm, and I look at her while I hear more ringing. She gives me a worried look.

  “Saige, darling. How are you?” I let out a sigh of relief.

  “I’m great, Mrs. Casey.” That gets Brooke’s attention and she gets up, turns around, and sits on the coffee table and glares at me. I hold up my finger, asking her to wait.

  “Ha. I’ve asked you over and over to call me Shelley.” She has but I just – can’t.

  “Thanks. Uh – have you seen Dad today? He’s not answering his phone.”

  I hear shuffling on the line and then nothing. “No, but his car is in the driveway.” She must be looking out her front window. “Maybe he’s taking a nap or in the shower or maybe he’s out tending his flowers in the garden in the backyard.” All those things could be true but I still have this strange feeling.

  “Can I bother you to go check on him for me? It would make me feel better,” I ask trying to convey a smile in my voice that isn’t there.

  “Sure, sugar. I’ll go check for you and call you back in a few.”

  The call ends and I look up at Brooke. “Something’s not right.” She nods and reaches out for my hand, holding it tightly.

  An hour later, I’m in my car, telling Brooke goodbye. She’s leaning her arms down on my car door, sticking her face inside with worry covering her face. “Look at it this way, you get to go home a week earlier than planned.” She tries to smile but can’t.

  Her mom had called back telling me he didn’t answer the door. She walked around to the back, but he wasn’t there. Then she went back and continuously rang the bell. When he didn’t answer, she walked to the front windows, in between the shrubs, and peered inside. He was just sitting there, his hair a mess, and just staring at the TV, which wasn’t on. She told me he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. So unlike him. I told her to call 911 and to keep me updated. A twelve hour drive, a little longer from stopping to get gas and food, will make me more than crazy, but I can’t afford a plane ticket. I’m too worried and scared to eat so stopping to get gas won’t take long.

  “I know. I need to go.”

  She nods and leans in, kissing my cheek. “Keep me updated, please. You know Mom is there for you.” I nod back, starting the engine. She steps back, and I back out of the parking spot and start out on the longest drive of my young life.

  Thirty minutes into the drive and Mrs. Casey called and told me they took him to Hope General Hospital by ambulance. She said he was unresponsive but was awake. She said it was as if he was in a zombie-like state.

  Two hours into the drive and all I can think about is what I’ll find there.

  Three hours in and I called Mrs. Casey while getting gas and she said she was sitting in his room but the doctor wouldn’t tell her anything because she wasn’t a relative. She told me she explained I was on my way. I hate this.

  Six hours into my trip and I’m blaring music to try to keep my mind off him.

  Nine hours – I’m getting tired.

  Eleven hours and I can smell the salt in the breeze from the ocean as I pump gas. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open but my determination to get to him is keeping me awake.

  Twelve and a
half hours later, I’m pulling into the parking lot of Hope General. My legs ache from being still for so long from the drive and my arms stiff as I walk into the hospital and directly to the front desk. I find out he’s in room four twelve and head to the elevators. I must look horrible, my hair in a high ponytail, ratted from the wind from the open window as I drove. My makeup is over twelve hours old, and I know I must have bags under my eyes. When I find Dad’s room, I hesitate before going in. Suddenly, I’m scared. What could have made him that way? What’s been going on? I’d only talked to him a few days ago about coming in another week, and he sounded fine. Slowly, I push the door open, seeing Mrs. Casey sitting back in a chair. She notices me and jumps up, walks to me, and gives me a tight hug. “He’s asleep. I told him you were coming,” she whispers.

  I look at her and try to smile. “What did he say?”

  Her face falls. “He didn’t respond.”

  I squeeze her arm, not knowing what to say. Taking a deep breath, I look into her worried eyes. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Truly. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She smiles and hugs me again.

  “Please let me know if there’s anything else. You know I’m not far away.” I nod and she walks out of the room.

  I walk over to his bed by the window, the first bed empty, and just look at him. He looks the same but not. Leaning down, I brush some of his hair back from his forehead. “Oh, Dad,” I whisper. He doesn’t stir. I turn around and walk from his room and straight to the nurse’s station, demanding to see his doctor. It’s late, I know, but I don’t care. I just drove over twelve hours to get here and I want answers. They told me they’d page the doctor on duty and he’ll come to the room. I go back to Dad’s room, sit down in the chair, close my eyes and wait. I work in a hospital so I know it will be a while before the doctor comes.