The Beat and The Pulse Box Set 1

by Amity Cross

  “Good. I’ll meet you down at CT,” I said, drawing a line of professionalism back in the sand.

  “Whatever you say, Sparks,” he declared, letting his gaze return to the ceiling.

  As Harper wheeled the gurney out of the room and down the hall, I frowned. Sparks? What was that all about? Fidgeting with my stethoscope, I found I liked the fact that the mysterious Mr. Caplin had taken it upon himself to give me a nickname. It was much better than Blue.

  It had only been a few hours, but I found myself drawn to the cocky man with the prickly exterior. There was something behind his eyes just out of reach…something deeper. A story I was dying to know the ending of.

  Shaking my head, I gathered my wits and made my way down to CT, reminding myself of ‘the way things were’.

  Surgeons are friends with surgeons.

  Surgeons date surgeons.

  The hospital where you work is your whole life.

  It’s not long before you start coming in early and leaving late.

  The hospital is the center of your entire life.

  In what universe could a relationship outside the orbit of St. Vincent’s Hospital ever work? Especially one with a guy I didn’t even know. It was a simple case of instant infatuation. He was the most exciting thing to happen to me since I moved to Melbourne, a bright spark amidst the depression I’d been fighting to escape.

  When I got to CT, Harper had positioned the patient in the machine, and when he saw me appear, he left the room so we could fire it up. Sparks.

  “Holly,” the neurosurgeon said as I closed the door behind me. He was annoyingly on time.

  “Archer,” I said curtly and sat in the chair beside him as the images started to appear on the monitors.

  Dr. Desmond Archer was the kind of guy that all the girls would have chased in high school. Like a bad American Teen movie, he was the equivalent of the captain of the football team and the quarterback, dated the head cheerleader and drove a BMW convertible to and from the best years of his life…until he became the king of St Vincent’s.

  Chiseled jawline, designer stubble, sun-kissed blond hair swept back into an artfully designed quiff, scrubs that hugged his perfect chest, and arms that had just the right amount of muscle definition to get a woman’s panties damp. Dr. Archer was the whole package…and for some reason, he wouldn’t leave me alone.

  “Here’s one thing I don’t get. Why ortho?” he asked out of nowhere as I studied the first images of Caplin’s spine.

  “Why not?” I retorted, bothered by his familiarity when I hardly knew the guy.

  “C’mon, there must be a reason for it. I’ve seen you work. You could pick up any specialty and blitz it.”

  I narrowed my eyes and turned my attention back to the scans.

  “The Australian girl who moves to New York and tears through Columbia, turns down a job as head of ortho at the biggest hospital in Manhattan to come here. I don’t get it.”

  “There’s nothing to get,” I retorted.

  “You’re a hard mountain, Hol.”

  “Walsh,” I snapped. “My name is Walsh.”

  Archer held up his hands and shook his head, a stupid smirk on his face. “Fair enough.”

  “If you don’t mind,” I said, pointing to the scans. “Could you consult on the patient?”

  He turned to the scans and fell silent. Thank god.

  “Swelling has gone down significantly,” he mused. “He’s responding well to treatment… He’s in really good shape. No fractures, no lesions. He’ll be stuck in bed for a while, but he should get full use of his legs back. I’d recommend a little physical therapy to get him moving again, pending the treatment of his other injuries, but other than that, he’s clear from neuro. He’s bloody lucky if you ask me.”

  “No surgery?” I asked, wanting to confirm what I already knew.

  Archer shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Why is that unfortunate? Cracking open the guy’s spine would’ve been a last resort.”

  “Because I don’t get to spend a ten-hour surgery with you.”

  My eyes widened, and I swallowed a pile of vomit that had begun to rise in the back of my throat.

  He smiled, doing his best sexy come-hither look. I mean, he didn’t have to try hard, but when I looked at Archer, all I saw was a guy who thought the earth revolved around him. Arrogant had nothing on this guy, and he reminded me too much of the things I’d left behind in Manhattan. Little did he know his whole aura was drying up my lady parts.

  Swirling around in my chair, I beckoned to Harper, who’d been lingering behind us as we reviewed the scans. If he thought anything about Archer and his inappropriate behavior, he didn’t show it.

  “Could you take Mr. Caplin back to his room,” I said. “I’ll be up to see him shortly.”

  Sparks. I wondered where he’d gotten that one. I decided I’d ask.

  “I’ll catch you later, Walsh,” Archer said, snapping me out of my daydream.

  I nodded absently, and he chuckled, leaving me behind in the room to run over the rest of the scans in peace and quiet. Thank god.

  Focusing on the images, I found myself wondering more and more about where Caplin had come from. There were preexisting scars on his face, old yellowish bruises mixed in with the new, his body was in really good shape… If I had to guess, I’d say he was some kind of athlete. Boxing or some kind of martial art. It still didn’t explain why he was left on a spinal board out on the footpath like an unwanted puppy in a box.

  “Who are you?” I murmured to myself. I was determined to find out one way or another.

  4

  Josh

  Hospitals were boring as fuck.

  There was nothing to do, so all I did was think. I hated thinking. There were a lot of shitty memories I never wanted to think about again.

  I had a lot of stuff to be pissed about in my life and being paralyzed should’ve been right at the top of the list. When I thought about it, I didn’t care. That was fucked up.

  It was an excuse to change my path and to take it out of the cage and to the unknown. Problem was, I didn’t like the idea of not knowing where I was headed. When I fought, I had a purpose and a goal. When I didn’t, I was just…nothing. A lot of people expected me to be exactly that. People I was determined to prove wrong.

  So why didn’t I care if I couldn’t go back to The Underground?

  Staring up at the ceiling, I tried to wiggle my toes. If they moved, I didn’t feel it, so I don’t know why I bothered.

  I wondered what my face looked like. I was a handsome dude. I wasn’t up myself, but I never had a shortage of women trying their luck. I’d probably have a few new scars after the pulp that was my face healed. Chicks dug scars.

  After the scan a couple of hours ago, Sparks’s minion came back and put a cast on my right arm, hand to elbow. Its weight was already super annoying, and I held it against my stomach, the plaster feeling alien. He’d said my ribs would heal themselves in time but to take it easy. Considering my legs were still numb, there was no problem with that.

  Apparently, my lower jaw had a small hairline fracture, which explained why it ached when I spoke, so I was stuck on old people puree until the doctors said so.

  “Good news, Mr. Caplin,” Sparks declared, wafting into the room in a cloud of heavenly citrus.

  “My warranty still intact?” I asked as she came to a standstill next to the bed.

  She smiled, and fuck, was it something.

  “The scans revealed that the swelling in your lower back is subsiding, relieving the pressure on your spinal cord. There’s no breaks or nerve damage—”

  “So this isn’t permanent?”

  “It will take some time to regain the sensation in your legs, and you’ll have to undergo some physical therapy, but yes. It looks like you’ll regain the use of your legs.”

  I sighed in relief and glanced down at my cock. “Thank fuck.”

  Sparks raised her eyebrows but didn’t te
ll me off for swearing.

  As much as I liked looking at the pretty doctor, I already missed my routine and slamming a couple of hours at the gym before hitting The Underground. If she knew I was a fighter, she’d probably tell me never to get in the cage again. These doctor types always did. There was always the risk of injury when the only rule was to fight till your opponent taps or is knocked out.

  Still, I wanted out of this crappy bed. “How long do I have to be here?”

  “Until I’m satisfied you can walk unassisted,” she said, her eyes narrowing. Moving forward, she took the controls of the bed. “You’re welcome to sit up now if you don’t want to be flat on your back.”

  “Sure.”

  She pressed some buttons, and the back half of the bed began to rise, lifting me up. When it was at a height she was pleased with, she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and nudged me forward. Then she placed some pillows behind me. Damn, she had a firm touch. I liked it.

  “Are you an athlete, Mr. Caplin?” she asked, hooking the controls back in place.

  I smiled. “Why?”

  “Muscle definition is a dead giveaway,” she replied, her cheeks flushing.

  “You could say that,” I said slowly. “But maybe I just take good care of myself.” More questions led to more answers I couldn’t give her. Best to brush her off.

  If I’d struck out, she didn’t show it. Her expression had closed up shop at my abrupt change of tone.

  “Now,” she declared, “if you’re up for it, there are some detectives here that would like to ask you a few questions.”

  Uh oh. “Cops?”

  “Considering the way we found you, Mr. Caplin—”

  “Josh,” I interrupted.

  Dr. Walsh paused and nodded her head. “Josh… Considering how we found you, we were obligated by law to notify the police. After that, what you choose to do is up to you.”

  I was hardly listening. Sparks said my name, and it was like a switch had flipped inside my head. Sparks, Sparks, Sparks…

  “Josh,” she said, breaking me out of my daze. “There is a thing called doctor-patient confidentiality, you know.”

  I knew what she was getting at, but I didn’t understand why she gave a crap.

  She smiled, her eyes kinda sad, and said, “I’ll tell them you’re ready.”

  I watched as she left, the curtain swaying as she brushed past. A moment later, two new people entered my little room.

  A man rounded the curtain, but when my gaze collided with a familiar face behind him, I wasn’t sure what the fuck was happening. A tall, statuesque woman strode in wearing a suit jacket and dark jeans, her blonde hair done up in a perfect ponytail, her lips free of the usual red lipstick she wore. I’d seen her around and spoken to her a fair few times, but you’d be hard pressed to not know her.

  It was Charlie. Rebel’s girl. Rebel being the reigning king of The Underground. I went to open my mouth, but she shook her head gently.

  “Mr. Caplin,” the man said. “I’m Detective Frommer, and this is my partner Detective Croft.”

  I nodded, opting to keep my mouth shut for the time being.

  “We understand you were found outside the ER a few nights ago in a serious condition,” he went on. “Do you remember how you got there?”

  I took a deep breath. “No. I don’t.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Caplin,” Charlie said. “You don’t have to answer straight away. Take your time.”

  Detective Frommer gave her a look. “Mr. Caplin, you were found on a spinal board, which means someone took enough care to deliver you in one piece. Usually, with assaults like these, the victim is left at the scene of the attack. A passerby finds them, or they crawl to find help. They don’t get delivered like a parcel.”

  He’d already suspected I would try to cover for someone before he even came in, but he couldn’t do shit if I didn’t want to talk. I was the victim, and if I didn’t want the cops to pursue it, they had to drop it. No complaints.

  I shrugged. “What can I say? I don’t remember what happened.”

  The guy just wouldn’t drop it. “Mr. Caplin, I want to assure you we will catch whoever did this to you.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” I retorted. “I’ll get over it.”

  He stared at me and shook his head like I was the biggest moron in the universe. Finally, he stood, smoothing down his suit jacket.

  “Fine, it’s your choice. If you change your mind, call us.”

  He moved away from the bed, and Charlie smiled kindly at me before following him. As they reached the door, she laid a hand on the guy’s arm.

  “Let me talk to him,” she murmured just loud enough for me to hear.

  Detective Frommer rolled his eyes, and I got the distinct feeling he didn’t like having a woman as his sidekick. Asshole.

  “Fine,” he said. “But if he doesn’t want to talk, then don’t harass it out of him.”

  Charlie moved back toward the bed, and when her partner was out of earshot, I hissed, “You’re a cop?”

  “You know the code,” she said, ignoring my question.

  I nodded. I knew. No one talks or it was curtains for those who did. I was in enough shit as it was.

  “They dumped me out on the street,” I said, tightening my fists. “Just fuckin’ left me to rot, and you’re saying I have to abide by the code? Shit, you’re a cop.”

  “You and I both know ratting them out will only come back to bite you in the ass.”

  I narrowed my eyes, pissed as all hell. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t get up outta this bed, and I sure as hell mightn’t be able to fight again, and she was telling me it would bite me on the ass more than it had?

  “I can see that look in your eyes,” she said. “Revenge isn’t a redeeming quality, Josh.”

  “Fuck you. Have you been poking around in my file or something?”

  “Enough to have a clue as to why you think fighting is a good idea,” she replied.

  “Then you’ll know that has nothing to do with right now,” I snapped. “Fuck The Underground. They left me out on the street.”

  Charlie shook her head. “You want to get out of here in a body bag or on your own two feet?” I opened my mouth, but she held up her hand. “That’s a rhetorical question. Sleep on it.” She fished around in her pocket and pulled out a card. “Call me if you want to talk.” She slipped it into my duffle bag, which was still sitting on the bedside table. “But only me, okay? I’ve got your back whether you like to think so or not.”

  I was stuck. I knew it better than anyone else. You didn’t walk into The Underground intending to fight and get out of it clean. The whole place was dirtier than a sewerage farm.

  “Can you at least tell me who brought my stuff and left their credit card at the front desk?” I asked sullenly.

  “You should ask Dr. Walsh about that,” she replied. “Apparently, the guy spoke to her, and she’s not talking. She’s citing privacy laws, so my hands are tied. They won’t issue a warrant for that if you’re not going to press charges. But if you ask me, it isn’t hard to put two and two together.”

  I snorted. Sparks, huh? I saw the gleam in her eyes, the one that said she was interested. I could work her.

  “Maverick?” I asked.

  Charlie shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t know for sure.”

  Glancing through the window into the hall where Detective Frommer was waiting for Charlie, I said, “That guy’s a massive dick.”

  “Story of my life,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Female cops are one thing, but detectives? It’s too hard for my puny female mind to deduce a crime scene.” Rising to her feet, she smiled down at me. “Take care of yourself, Josh. If you need anything, just call, okay?”

  Considering I didn’t have anyone else, I nodded. “Whatever.”

  She shook her head slightly as she met her partner at the door and then left me alone to wallow.

  The sooner I could stand up and walk out of this hospital, the better. But as I c
aught sight of Sparks lingering by the desk outside my room, tapping furiously on a tablet, I began to doubt that was a good thing. Maybe it was just loneliness that made me attach to the first pretty thing I’d set my eyes on since I woke up a total reject, or maybe it was something else entirely.

  I just didn’t know anymore.

  5

  Holly

  Leaning against the nurses’ station, I glanced over my shoulder into Josh’s room.

  I watched him talking to the police, or should I say, they were talking at him, but he didn’t seem to want to entertain the idea of catching the people who put him here. I didn’t understand it.

  “How’s the hottie?” Gunner asked right next to my ear.

  Jumping about a mile, I clutched the tablet against my chest. “Shit on it,” I cursed.

  Gunner laughed, thinking she was all that. “So, how’s the hottie?”

  “Sensation is going to return to his legs, which is a good sign. The swelling should subside in the next day or two, so we’ve just got to wait.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Blue,” she flung back, rolling her eyes.

  I knew it wasn’t what she meant, but ever since I’d arrived here, she’d taken it upon herself to try to find me a date. First, it was Archer…and that was a disaster. She’d planted the idea in his head, and now he wouldn’t stop flirting. Thankfully, it was harmless.

  “He’s a patient,” I declared.

  “And one day soon, he won’t be.”

  “I’m happy how things are, Gunner,” I said. “I don’t need a boyfriend.”

  “Who said anything about a boyfriend?” She leaned against the nurses’ station and glanced into Josh’s room. “Is he your type?”

  I peered over my shoulder to where he was sitting up in bed, staring out the window at the sky beyond. The detectives had gone while Gunner was trying to set me up with the poor guy.

  Nobody had come to see him at all since he’d been here. He had no emergency contact, he didn’t want the nurses to call anyone for him, and he didn’t seem to want to talk at all. Was he all alone in the world? My family was all back in the US, apart from a few distant cousins in Queensland, so I was pretty much alone here…but I still had family. Where was Josh’s?