Caught Up

by Rya Stone

  She looked up at Clint. Her eyes burned, and she knew they’d achieved a nice shade of bloodshot-red. “They were deep. Really deep. More than we realized when it happened. There’s a lot of shell debris broken off in there, and they had to cut him open a little more to get it all out. Oh, and they’re worried about some kind of flesh-eating bacteria that lives in the bay.” That had been the point at which she’d freaked.

  “Vibrio,” Clint said. “Why did you wait so long to call me?”

  She stood. The room spun. It felt like a hangover. No, like the morning after a beatdown. She clutched the back of the waiting room couch. “I called you hours ago.”

  “And it happened this afternoon!”

  What was she supposed to say? That the last time she’d seen Clint, he and his brother were rolling around on the ground, throwing punches? That he was an asshole of the first order, and the only reason she’d called him was because he was Jase’s only living relative?

  Clint turned and stalked toward the swinging doors leading into the emergency room. The attendant nurse stood as he approached. “May I help you, sir?’

  Clint answered her as he pushed through the doors. “Where’s my brother?”

  “Sir!”

  “Jason Lucas!” Clint bellowed. “Where is he?”

  Cassie crept to the doors, stopping just short of following Clint through.

  “You can’t just barge—”

  “Where. Is. He?”

  Running feet sounded through the door. Cassie peered through the crack where the doors met and saw a nurse disappear around a corner. Clint stood in the foreground. With a glance her way, he pushed through a door and disappeared, too.

  Was he out of surgery? Why the hell hadn’t someone told her? She gritted her teeth and plowed through the doors to see the nurse leading a security guard down the hall. Seriously? It was after visiting hours, but Jase was her…boyfriend. She clutched the dog tags hanging beneath the oversized shirt one of the nurses had supplied her. Jase had pressed them into her hand right before he’d been taken into surgery.

  Cassie locked eyes with the nurse. Then she followed Clint. A shout rang out, but she ignored it. Launching herself toward Jase’s room, she blocked out the security guard’s jingling keys, his pounding feet. Heart racing, she barged through the door. Clint blocked her view of the bed.

  “Knocked the fuck out,” Clint said, turning.

  Then he saw Jase.

  Sleeping.

  It was the first thing that came to her mind. It was quickly followed by alive and well.

  Vertigo overtook her body, and she felt herself sway. That’s when the security guard grabbed her from behind.

  “Get your hands off her!”

  That was Clint. Had to be. But all she knew for sure was that her eyes didn’t want to focus on anything.

  Her head swam.

  Jase… recovering peacefully.

  And her mind, now knowing that, gave her body permission to check out.

  For the second time, she looked up from the waiting room couch to find Clint looming over her. A nurse hovered nearby with what Cassie assumed to be some good ol’ fashioned smelling salts in her hand. That would explain the astringent odor stinging her nose.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” the nurse asked.

  Cassie sat up, focusing on the faded linoleum floor to stop her head from spinning. “Um…midmorning?”

  “I think someone should check you out.”

  Cassie mumbled something along the lines of “thanks” and “no.” But the nurse didn’t leave right away, likely weighing whether or not there’d be legal ramifications if Cassie decided to face-plant into the floor again. Someone had caught her the first time. Clint? The security guard? The details were fuzzy.

  “Come on,” Clint said, striding toward the exit.

  “Excuse me?”

  He kept going. “You’re covered in blood, and you need something to eat. Come on.”

  “How do you know I don’t have my own ride?” she asked, standing.

  Clint stopped and cut those slanted blue eyes her way. “Your car isn’t outside.”

  Her car was sitting in a body shop.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Come on.”

  She planted her hands on her hips and looked up at that intimidating gaze. “I’m not leaving.”

  “You gonna sleep on that ratty-ass couch?”

  “If that’s the closest I can get to Jase, then yes.”

  “He’s in stable condition,” Clint said, looking her up and down. “You saw him, out cold.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  Clint stalked over to the couch and grabbed her purse. He offered a challenging look then walked out the door.

  She had no choice but to follow. She’d already had her wallet stolen once, and her purse held Jase’s things, too. No, Clint couldn’t take her purse.

  “Wait!” she yelled, wide-awake now and sprinting to catch up to Clint.

  He just kept walking.

  The bastard. “Clint!”

  He turned on her. “Get in the truck.”

  She belatedly noticed they stood next to a brand new Ford F-250. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you called me a lease-slut and fought with Jase. Because you showed up here four hours after I called you, barged into the hospital, jacked my purse, and commanded me to get in your truck, all without a word of concern for your brother. Besides all that, I don’t take rides with assholes.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed, and he took a slow step in her direction. She held her ground, not about to twist her ankle over him. Again.

  “Did Jase take you to his bay house? Make sweet love you? Tell you he wants you to move in, that he’ll love you forever?”

  Her mouth flew open and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Was that Jase’s MO? Is that what he did? He’d kissed her a few days after they’d met. He’d slept with her…what? A few weeks later? Lightning fast. But it hadn’t felt that way, at least not until now. Now, standing under a pale green light in the parking lot of Marian General Hospital, she must look like the biggest fool that ever was.

  No.

  The intense emotion she’d seen in Jase’s face, in his every move on the pier, in his bed, in the boat when he’d told her he’d always come for her…that couldn’t be faked.

  Clint took another step in her direction, smirking. “He did.”

  Could it?

  She ripped her purse from Clint’s hand and spun, running back towards the ER because she didn’t know where else to go.

  Clint’s feet pounded the asphalt, and within seconds, strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the ground. Her legs paddle-wheeled. “Let me go!”

  “Cassie—”

  “Fuck you, Clint! Let me go!”

  “Listen!”

  “I’m not listen—”

  A hand clamped over her mouth and anger took a dangerous turn toward terror.

  “Listen,” he said, close to her ear. “What I just said? I said that to get a rise out of you. I said it because I’m a dick. But what I said is true, isn’t it? I can tell by your reaction it is. So no, I’m not going to let you go. I’m not going to let my brother’s woman spend the night on a dirty couch in the ER. I’m going to take her somewhere she can clean up and grab a bite to eat.”

  Clint spun her around and hefted her weight over his shoulder in a fluid movement. Stunned, butt bouncing in the air, she blinked several times at the neon ER sign and Jase somewhere behind it. His dog tags slipped out of her shirt and clanked against her forehead. She grabbed for them, leaving-off pelting Clint. But he’d gone stark still. When she tried to wriggle away he tightened his hold and marched on.

  He didn’t even set her down when he opened the truck door. He simply let go with one hand, popped the handle, and kind of tossed her inside. She watched him walk around the front of the truck, and all the things Jase had tol
d her about Clint’s business, about their father’s murder, rushed to the forefront of her mind. As did Neely’s murder. And Culberson’s.

  She reached for the door handle, wondering if she could outrun Clint this time. Then another sickening thought hit home. What if the first thing he’d said about Jase was true, and the second thing, the thing about her being Jase’s woman…what if Clint had said that to make her calm down? To convince her to go with him?

  Too late. They were moving.

  Clint pulled to a stop at the hospital exit. “Where to?”

  One last chance…and yet she heard herself whisper, “Jase’s camper.”

  Clint side-eyed her and gunned it, pulling onto Hwy 35. Minutes later, he pulled up to the RV and walked her to the door. She used the key Jase had given her and fumbled for the lights.

  “Wait here,” Clint said behind her in the darkness.

  Like an idiot, she waited, framed in the doorway while Clint walked back to his truck. He returned holding a shotgun.

  She stepped back and swung the door. Clint caught it with the hand not wrapped around the shotgun. “I’m not going to hurt you!”

  “Why do you have a gun?” she asked, backing into the camper.

  “Will you calm down? It’s for you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I know Jase has guns in here but I’m not gonna go rifling through his things, so here.” He extended the gun, barrel up. “You know how to shoot?”

  She grabbed the shotgun, not about to turn down an offer to defend herself at the moment. “I’ve shattered more than a few clay pigeons,” she said, trying for a badass facial expression. In all honesty, those clays had been thrown on her uncle’s farm and she’d missed most of them.

  “Good, then you can hit a moving target.”

  Her empty stomach roiled. “Why would I need to shoot any target, moving or not?”

  “Just trying to protect my brother’s woman.”

  “From what?”

  “Get this through your head. You’re a fine piece of ass, even in those bloody shorts and that big ol’ T-shirt.” Clint’s gaze dropped to her chest, to Jase’s dog tags hanging there. “And you’re Jase Lucas’s fine piece of ass. That means you need a shotgun.”

  She didn’t like being called a piece of ass, even Jase Lucas’s piece of ass, but she liked needing a gun less.

  “Clint.” She shouldered the shotgun. “I want you to tell me exactly who I’m supposed to protect myself from, and I want a straight answer. I want names.”

  He surprised her by not hesitating. “His name is Oscar Martinez. I do business with him, and it’s not friendly business. Furthermore, Cassie, Oscar and Jase have a history, one I’ll let him explain. For now, just know that you wouldn’t be the first woman he went after to get to Jase.”

  “Daphne?” she croaked.

  Clint’s lip curled in disgust. “That shit with Daphne damn near killed Jase. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, but I’m not about to stand by and let that happen again. I’m still tryin’ to figure out you and Jase…” He started backing out the door, his stare as intent as his brother’s. “For now, I’ll do what I can to protect you, too.”

  Okay.

  Wait…what?

  It proved to be too much for her frazzled mind. “Thank you for the information,” she managed. “And for the gun.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  She wore the jeans. And she’d only planned on staying at Jase’s camper long enough to shower and paint them on. Then she’d sat down on the couch. She awoken after daylight slumped over and starving.

  By the time she tracked down Kyle, caught him up to speed, and had him drop her off at the hospital, Jase had been moved to a private room. And by the time she located said room, the cafeteria folks were already collecting the breakfast trays.

  “You wore the jeans.”

  The fact that he’d noticed right off the bat made Cassie smile in relief despite the shocking sight that greeted her. The man lying in a hospital bed almost too small for his frame had survived no telling how many combat tours, and a freaking oyster was responsible for his bandaged leg and the array of tubes coming out of this right hand and arm.

  But his face…

  The man looked radiant. Or maybe he was just happy to see her.

  “Where’ve you been, baby?” He asked so softly it almost broke her heart.

  She leaned over him, hands hovering, not sure where to touch him first. “Here. I’ve been here except for a shower and clothes change. Clint…he—”

  “Clint what?”

  “He took me home. He…he said—” Jase’s gaze roamed around her face, like he was thinking about something really important. “Jase…?”

  “He took you home. I heard you,” he said. “Come here.”

  She cradled a hand behind his ear and buried her face in his neck. The first thing he did was pull the elastic band from her hair. “You smell like my soap.”

  “What is it?”

  “Fishermen’s soap,” he whispered. “Made with anise. It gets in your skin after a while, draws the fish to you.”

  She lifted her head, but still held him close. “Then maybe you shouldn’t use it anymore.”

  “It drew you, too.”

  Her heart lodged in her throat, and for the first time in many long hours, worry and doubt hadn’t put it there. “Yeah,” she breathed.

  “And guess what? No vibrio infection.” Thank God. “They’re going to release me later today.”

  Good news except for the fact that he shouldn’t even be here.

  As if sensing her thoughts, he said, “Nothing to worry about.” He stroked her hair, calming her before whispering, “I want to kiss you, but I’m sure I have hospital breath.”

  “A dreaded affliction.” She straightened and wiped below her eyes. “As it happens, I possess a vast and unwanted knowledge of such things.” More like nursing home survival knowledge, but given the place her mother was currently residing, it wasn’t much different. She hauled her tote onto the bedside table. “It’s just stuff I scavenged,” she replied at Jase’s wrinkled brow. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be here so brought some stuff I thought might make you more comfortable.”

  When he didn’t answer she reached in, grab-bag style. “Annnd…we have lip balm,” she said, placing the tube on the table. “Next we have crosswords and Sudoku. I found these in your gun drawer and thought they might be fun to work on together.” That might have been one of the craziest things she’d ever said. Shaking her head, Cassie reached into the bag for the next surprise. “A new phone charger,” she said, placing it on the growing pile, “because your phone is about dead, and last time I looked, you had like twenty voicemails. And…” She extracted the next item with a grand flourish. “Breath mints. For hospital breath.”

  The mints should have garnered a chuckle, but Jase’s brows grew steadily closer to unibrow territory. Maybe…maybe her candy-striper act was freaking him out.

  She cleared her throat. “Okay, so I brought some clothes, too. I don’t know if they’ll let you out of that gown, but I grabbed some shirts and found some shorts in your dresser. I hope you don’t mind I did that…that I did any of this.” She kind of winced because he looked like he minded. Or was in pain. Of course he was in pain. They cut deep into his leg then stapled it back up. Maybe she wasn’t freaking him out. “I, um, I packed your…your soap, too…” Her own brows knitted. “I didn’t bring a razor though because…”

  “Because why?” he rasped.

  “Because I like you scruffy,” she said, setting the bag of toiletries aside. “Hey, um…”

  He just stared at her, his eyes dark and hooded, sleepy-looking.

  “What do you need? Do you need me to call the—”

  “I need you in this bed with me.”

  She ran her hand over his forehead, checking for fever. “What?”

  “I want you next to me.”

  “I can’t, your leg…”


  “Baby, please, that’s all I need.”

  She reached for the call button thingy. “I’m going to call the nurse.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Cassie….”

  His eyes looked feverish, and he had felt warm.

  “You made me a care package,” he said, smiling softly. “With breath mints. You went home and picked up my stuff.”

  “Of course, I—”

  “You asked me if I need anything. I need you. I need to feel you next to me. Right now.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Please, curl up to me.”

  Against her better judgment, she climbed over the side rail and squished in next to him.

  He buried his head in her chest and breathed deeply. “Lip balm. And breath mints. And soap.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, cradling his head with one hand. “It’s not weird, is it? That I did that?”

  He kissed the top of her breast. “It’s everything.”

  She combed her fingers through his hair, over and over, lulling him into sleep. She couldn’t bring herself to crawl out of his bed, and after a few minutes, she felt a nap of her own coming on.

  But first, she removed his dog tags from around her neck and slipped them over his head.

  …

  Cassie’s dreams were a mash-up of Middle Earth and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She’d stolen Queen Titania’s precious, and the vindictive bitch had sent her orc army in pursuit. That army was led by the man Titania loved under compulsion, but instead of a donkey head, he had the head of a shark.

  Cassie’s eyes flew open, and she saw the faerie queen herself kneeling on the other side of the bed, both hands wrapped around one of Jase’s.

  “…get you home,” she said in that tinkling voice. “And then everything will be the way it was.”

  Cassie spoke without lifting her head from where it rested against Jase’s. “I don’t think he wants you here, Daphne.”

  The scorned queen gave Cassie a pitying smile—a smile like she was the one curled up to Jase, her hand on his heart, his arm around her shoulder, and Cassie was the interloper.

  “I’ve been with him since we were kids,” she said. “I think I know what he wants.”

  The roller coaster that was her relationship with Jase rounded a sharp bend and Cassie wrapped her arm more tightly around his, trying to hold on. She reminded herself Daphne was truly sick, and she spoke gently, her heart pounding behind her ribs. “He needs rest.”