by Amity Cross
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 tell 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 p
ulled 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 caught 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?
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my attention back to Gunner.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you find him handsome. Duh.”
I did, but if I said it out loud, it was an invitation to a party I wasn’t sure I was ready for. When I fell for a guy, it was usually hard and fast and over in a matter of milliseconds…and it always got me into a lot of trouble. That’s why I clammed up and brushed away every guy who showed interest, because what if they turned out to be just another asshole out for convenient sex? I wanted more than that, so I could never be the one-night stand, fuck buddy type of woman.
“Sheesh, Walsh,” Gunner exclaimed. “If you don’t want a crack at him, I’ll gladly take your spot.”
I blinked at her, suddenly feeling a spike of jealousy sear through my body. I’d claimed Josh as a patient when he’d came into the ER, but had that claim been a little more personal? Maybe not until he’d woken up and turned on the alpha asshole charm. Just from our few exchanges, he was so not my type. In the teen movie that seemed to be my life, he was the bad boy from the other side of the tracks.
“Walsh!”
We both looked up as Archer appeared down the hall.
“Ugh,” I declared, turning my back so he wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes.
“What about Archer? He’s hot for you,” Gunner whispered. “Why—”
“Don’t get me started,” I shot back as the man himself came to a halt beside us.
“Walsh, can I get you to consult on a case of mine?” he asked, glancing between Gunner and me like he was so full of himself thinking we’d been talking about him for hours and hours.
Clicking the tablet screen off, I picked it up and shrugged. “Sure.” A case was a case, and it was what I was here for…Archer or no Archer.
He appeared pleased as punch as I followed him down the hall and into the elevator. He pressed the floor where Radiology was located, and the doors slid shut. Dammit. I was in a confined space—alone with Archer. I bet he was secretly wetting his pants—right at the front out the eye of his penis.
“What have you got?” I asked to fill in the awkward silence.
“Tumor,” he replied, glancing at me out the corner of his eye.
“Bone?”
He shrugged. “You’ll see.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. As I followed him out into the hall and down to Radiology, I knew he wasn’t telling me something. If it was a neuro case and he was asking for an ortho consult, it had to be something to do with the spine, neck, or skull. A brain tumor that that invaded the bone, the skull or vertebrae.
Opening the door to a room where he had set up his scans, he gestured for me to enter first.
Closing us inside the room, he said, “The patient is Sammy O’Connor, age eight.” He flipped on the screens, which dimmed the lights, and the scans appeared before us. Crossing my arms over my chest, I moved forward and peered at the mass Archer was so desperate for my consult on. It was a giant splotch on the spine, its brilliance outshining the bones it obscured. Shit.
No wonder he’d been coy about it. If I knew, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of standing here.
“The tumor is located here,” he said, pointing to the scan with the tip of his pen.
“I can see it, Archer. I can’t not see it.”
It was this huge smear against the thoracic vertebrae—T12, right above the lumbar—and on first glance, it looked like it was wrapped around the bone…fused to it. Then Archer grasped my shoulders and turned me to the next scan. I would’ve chewed him out for the inappropriate touching, but the sight of how deep this mass went had me lost for words.
“It’s wedged around the spinal cord,” he murmured, letting me go. “You can see here how it’s attached to the bone—and that’s how it started—but it has advanced rapidly.”
In all my years on rotation, I’d never seen anything like this. Tumors were usually found in the vertebrae itself or in the surrounding tissue, not in both at the same time and not this size. It was rare. So rare I’d probably never see
anything like it again.
“Is it cancerous?”
“Unfortunately,” Archer replied. “Right now, he’s one sick little guy.”
Fuck. More bad news.
“I assume he’s lost all sensation from the T12 down.”
“Sammy has been confined to a wheelchair for the last few months. He’s had a colostomy bag installed and has been undergoing chemotherapy and other treatments to help slow the spread of the cancerous cells. He’s a pretty resilient little guy.”
“Why have they come here?” I asked, shaking my head. “This is advanced…almost inoperable. The fact that it’s cancerous means we’d have to get it all and the bone… He’d still have to undergo more treatment after the operation.” He was only eight years old, and to withstand all the poking and prodding… It would take a lot out of his little body. Perhaps too much.
“I like how you said almost inoperable.” Archer smiled at me like he knew a secret I didn’t. “His parents have tried every hospital in the country, talked to every neuro and ortho specialist they could see, and they’ve all said the same thing. There was nothing they could do.”
“So you’re saying this is their last stop?”
“Yep.” He turned back to the scans, and instantly, I knew he’d made a promise.
“Archer,” I snapped. “What did you say to them?”
He turned back to me and perched on the edge of the table, looking sheepish.
“I said we’d try, Hol,” he declared, wearing his god complex on his sleeve. “I didn’t tell them we could do it. I said we could try. No guarantees.”
“Even if we can get the tumor out, he’ll be paralyzed for the rest of his life. Then there’s the bone cancer. Fuck.”
“C’mon, Hol,” he said, pissing me off even more by using a nickname I loathed. “We might fail, but we might succeed.”
“You’re just thinking about the glory,” I snapped back at him. “Think about the quality of life this kid will have to endure. This could take years for him to beat.”
