by Jessica Gray
“Her…a…friend,” he finally finished. “I’m her friend.”
“Well, friend – her medical condition is not something I can discuss with you.”
“But…”
“I’m sorry. HIPPA prevents me from discussing a patient’s condition with anyone other than the patient or someone they designate to me.” He gave Marcela a look and then excused himself: “I have other patients to see.”
Robert turned to her. “Now what?”
“Now, we leave. I’m off-duty and don’t want to spend my time here if I’m not working.”
“Let’s go back to the restaurant. We still need to eat dinner.”
Marcela agreed and murmured, “‘I saw my boyfriend with another woman today.’”
“What?” Robert asked.
The full dimensions of the events dawned on Marcela. “This is all my fault,” she said.
“How is this your fault?” he asked.
“I was taking care of her and she was so upset.”
“Did she say about what?”
Marcela nodded and repeated her words from moments before, “‘I saw my boyfriend with another woman.’ Jesus! The ambulance came from the restaurant La Trattoria, and she must have seen us leave together. That’s why she had the nervous breakdown. And then she saw me again in the hospital. No wonder she was upset.”
Robert grabbed her arm. “Are you sure she recognized you?”
“Given the shock in her eyes, yes.” More to herself she murmured, “I’m just glad she was already asleep when you texted me.”
“But she wouldn’t be able to read the text, would she?” Robert didn’t like the look on Marcela’s face.
She blushed beneath his scrutiny and squirmed. “No, but I was perturbed.” She gave him an apologetic look. “She was asleep and I dropped my guard for a moment. I held a monologue about how miserably my life will end if you divorce me and I’m deported.”
Now Robert was seriously out of his mind. Marcela touched his arm. “Don’t worry. I spoke Spanish to myself. She probably didn’t understand a single word.”
Chapter 6
Karen had waited until she was sure Marcela was no longer on duty. She got out of the bed and dressed in her earlier clothing, before she entered the bathroom to remove her smudged make-up. When the hallway was empty and only one nurse sat behind the counter, she approached the desk, hiding her emotions behind a façade of matter-of-factness.
“Excuse me?”
The nurse, whose nametag identified her as Genevieve, looked at her. “Yes, ma’am?”
“I just wanted to let someone know I was leaving.”
The face of the nurse grew concerned. “Ma’am, you need to wait to be discharged by the doctor.”
“No, actually I don’t. I know there’s probably some form I need to sign, so just hand it over, I’ll sign it, and that lets you off the hook.”
“I need to call the doctor…”
“I’m not willing to wait, so you either give me the form to sign, or I walk away right now.” Karen was coming across as a first-class bitch, but she didn’t care one bit. She needed to get back to Santa Clara and do some serious thinking. The prospect of seeing Marcela again was too much to bear and clouded her thoughts.
The nurse reluctantly handed her the form, speaking in a frantic whisper into the phone while Karen signed the paperwork. “Thank you.”
“Ma’am, please wait. The doctor is on his way up.”
“I have no desire to see him. Good day.” Karen left, before anyone could hold her back, and exited the hospital a few minutes later. She wandered aimlessly through the streets of downtown Los Angeles with the single thought in mind to put as much space between her and the hospital as possible.
The entire trip to Los Angeles had been a disaster, and nothing had worked out the way she had envisioned. While getting dressed, she’d found the platinum blonde wig and the sunglasses stashed into her handbag and a fresh wave of guilt and shame had assailed her. How in the world could she have been so impulsive? She wasn’t a spymaster heroine from some thriller. No, she was simply a woman with a broken heart.
This had to be the stupidest thing she’d ever done in her life. To make matters worse, she realized she was completely lost. In her desperate attempt to run away from the troubling thoughts of Marcela and Robert she hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings as she wandered the streets of downtown LA. Now she glanced around and noticed the graffiti-painted walls, the broken-down cars lining the streets, and suddenly realized she’d ended up in one of the crime-ridden areas of the city – those that were regularly featured in the news on TV.
She cursed once more for being more stupid than what should be legally allowed, but quickly turned her anger toward Robert for putting her in this position to begin with. Feeling scared and alone, she pulled out her shiny new iPhone and called her best friend Rachel.
“Hello? Karen, where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
“My phone was off. I saw him, Rachel. With his wife. She’s beautiful, by the way.”
“Karen…”
“When he left with her, it was too much and I collapsed. They ended up taking me to the hospital for evaluation and the doctor said I had a nervous breakdown.” Her nerves got the better of her and she cried into the phone. The hair in her neck stood on end and her sixth sense was blaring at her to get someplace safe.
“Karen. Stop.” Rachel interrupted her. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know.” She barely could speak between the sobs. “I walked out the hospital and got lost. This place doesn’t feel safe. I’m scared, Rachel.” She wished herself back to Santa Clara. At least she knew her way around that city, and Santa Clara wasn’t dangerous like L.A. could be.
“Honey. Calm down. Find a taxi and have them take you to the airport. Just take the next plane home. Text me and I pick you up, okay?”
“I will,” Karen promised her. “I’m going to turn around and retrace my steps until I find a cab. Thanks, Rachel.”
“Always, honey. Just get back here safe, okay?”
“I will.” Karen disconnected the call and turned around, only to see two young men leaning against a nearby building, leering at her. They both wore dark jeans, leather jackets, and black knitted caps and instead of belts they used chains. Gang members.
Karen ducked her head and attempted to cross the street, but they cut her off.
“Where ya going, sweetheart? You came down here looking for some action?” the taller of the two guys asked, grabbing his crotch in an obscene gesture.
“No. I was walking and got lost, but I can find my way back.” She attempted to turn around in an attempt to walk away, her heart thundering in her throat. Out of nowhere his partner in crime stood behind her like a wall, blocking her exit. She was inches away from his bad-smelling breath and her stomach turned. Every exposed patch of skin on his arms, neck, and chest was covered in tattoos and she estimated the number of piercings in his face to be more than she could count on her hands.
“Excuse me,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in her voice and would actually step aside.
“No, sweetie, I don’t think I will. Why don’t you hand over that phone and your wallet and I’ll think about letting you out of our territory in one piece. It would be a shame. Such a pretty face.” He touched something on his hip, which Karen recognized as a long knife.
Karen’s body was trembling so hard she had difficulties standing. She frantically looked around, but there was no one else on the street. She was on her own.
The other guy grabbed her chin and forced her to look into his cold and cruel eyes. “I’m getting a bit impatient here. You need another invitation?” Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the butt of a gun sticking out of his waistband, and hastily said, “Please, I just want to go home.”
He released her chin and Karen handed over her phone and her wallet. The tattooed guy opened her wallet and then smiled a sadi
stic smile, “Well, seeing as how you’ve been so generous, I’ll return the favor. Go.”
Karen stood there in shock, wondering if this was a trick. Even if she had wanted, she couldn’t move. Her feet were frozen in place.
“Did you hear me?” he asked menacingly.
Karen nodded and slowly backed away from him, not daring to present him with her back. When she didn’t go fast enough, the other one pulled out his gun and waved it at her. “Need a little incentive?”
“No! Please, I’m going.” Karen turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, expecting to feel the sting of bullets any minute, but all she heard was the blood rushing through her ears and the obnoxious laughter of her muggers in the background. She ran two blocks before she stumbled and fell to the sidewalk.
It was all too much for her fragile nervous system to handle, so she simply sat on the curb, pulling her knees up to her chest, and sobbed. Her options were limited. If she went back to the hospital, they’d probably lock her up and throw away the key. That is, if she ever found her way out of this labyrinth of streets. Running from her muggers had destroyed her last bit of orientation and she had no idea which direction to go from here.
Karen knew she was panicking, and yet a part of her was so calm, it was scary. Probably the effect of the sedatives they gave me in the hospital. I must still be drugged up.
She huddled on the sidewalk, lost and alone and unable to think what her next move should be. This time she couldn’t even call Rachel for help and comfort.
Chapter 7
Robert clenched his jaw, “Karen is a Spanish translator.”
Marcela’s face fell. “Jesus. If she understood everything I said, she must have freaked out. Oh, Robert, she wasn’t in a good frame of mind when I met her at the hospital, but after she heard my complaining, she probably was on the verge of another nervous breakdown. That’s why she left the hospital. It was all too much for her. And she was afraid to have to see me again.”
Robert swallowed hard. “We need to find her.”
“But where?” Marcela’s eyes watered. “I’m so sorry, I never wanted this.”
Robert didn’t have the time or patience to console Marcela; his first priority was to find Karen, to make sure she was safe. He pulled out his phone and tried to call her, but it rang several times until the voicemail picked up. On a whim, he placed a call to Rachel.
“Rachel, Robert here. I’m trying to get ahold of Karen.”
“She’s not here right now.” The answer was distant. Rachel probably was still furious at him for lying to her best friend.
“Look, I don’t have time to explain everything, but I need you to tell me if she’s in L.A.” When Rachel didn’t answer, he added, “She might be in danger and I need to find her.”
“You don’t have to worry. I spoke to her about an hour ago and she promised me she was on the way to the airport. She’s going to text me with her flight information any minute.”
“Are you sure?” Robert asked, worry still evident in his voice.
“Yes. I’ll let you know the minute I hear from her.”
Robert hung up and relayed the information to Marcela. “Something doesn’t feel right here.”
“Why don’t you come to my place while you wait for a call back? I don’t live far from here and the walk will give you a chance to calm down.”
He hadn’t even listened to her suggestion, but nodded his agreement anyway and gestured for her to lead the way. During the short walk he tormented himself with pictures of Karen wandering the streets in mental derangement.
When they arrived at the building where she lived, he looked up for a short moment, puzzled. “Where are we going?”
Marcela rolled her eyes. “This is where I live.”
Robert still wasn’t exactly sure why they’d ended up here, but he decided to follow her. Right now he wasn’t capable of thinking clearly; his mind was fogged by worry, pain and anger.
The more he replayed the happenings of the day in his head, the more he blamed Karen for the mess she’d gotten them into. Why wouldn’t she listen to the doctor and stay at the hospital? Why had she come to Los Angeles in the first place? The whole endeavor was ridiculous and irresponsible at best.
“Come in,” Marcela said and he followed her into the small apartment she called home. The living room was small and cheaply furnished, but homey. With her limited means, she’d made the place a real home. A brightly colored patchwork blanket adorned the couch, and a bookshelf in the corner held mainly medical books.
He counted three doors. One in the hallway, which probably led to the bathroom, and two in the living room. One door stood open offering a view into the tidy kitchen, and he assumed the second one was the bedroom door.
Robert sat down on the couch, while Marcela disappeared into the kitchen to prepare hot tea for them. But he couldn’t sit still for long and stood again to pace the room. He glanced at his phone every few seconds – willing it to ring.
“Come sit down and stop pacing.” Marcela held two mugs with steaming hot tea in her hands.
He nodded and sat down on the end of the couch. She handed him one of the mugs and sat besides him. Robert withdrew once again from the real world, images of the day replaying in his mind. Marcela had touched something deep within his soul, and he didn’t know what it was.
Normally, he wasn’t prone to rash actions. Not like offering someone marriage after knowing them for less than twelve hours. His mind wandered to the past and he could see her big brown eyes looking at him. They had been so full of pain – and hope. Hope for a better future.
She’d come to the United States because she needed a better life, away from her abusive uncle. Her eyes had told him the whole story, the things she hadn’t said with words. The unbelievable horrors she’d gone through, but also the unwavering will to come out winning. Below her soft and helpless looks was a will of steel. That’s what had impressed him and made him extend the unusual offer.
They’d both known it was wrong. And this was one of the reasons their relationship had never worked out. Because they both knew it was built on need and not on love. He had secretly hated her for taking advantage of him and he believed she’d secretly hated him for making her feel like she needed a man to save her.
It was complicated, and Robert’s head started hurting from overthinking things. He wished he could switch off his brain, just for a few minutes. A deep sigh escaped his throat and when he felt a small hand on his arm, he had no idea, to whom it might belong.
He looked up into the most beautiful brown eyes, filled with worry and compassion. His palms cupped her face and time disappeared. Something snapped in his head, and he was back in Las Vegas, with the beautiful woman who’d drawn him in from the first moment he sat eyes on her in that bar.
The attraction between them flared up. She must have felt it too, because she nuzzled her face against his palms. Almost automatically his thumb caressed her smooth skin, long-forgotten emotions rising to the surface. He kissed her lips, soft at first, then more demanding.
She opened her lips for him and he captured her sigh in his mouth, his tongue sliding between her lips, tasting her sweet taste, mixed with tea. Marcela pressed herself against him, taking everything he offered and giving back the same pleasure.
When they had to come up for breath, her eyes had darkened and the expression in them moved him to tears.
“Did you know you were the first man to ever give me an orgasm?” she said, her scent filling his nostrils.
“What?” he asked, confusion marring his features.
“Yes, before I met you, I never understood why people liked sex so much. I hated it.”
Her confession took him by surprise. She’d been so confident and wild during their first night. “That’s just wrong. You were made to be loved. Your body is every man’s dream and giving you pleasure is so satisfying.”
He pulled Marcela against his chest and started to kiss a path down her neck
and her collarbone. She moaned and writhed against him, while his hands traveled down her back and up her sides again. They frantically kissed each other, driven by the need to forget. Her hands reached around his neck and she pressed him harder against her.
Then she moved around and straddled him, pressing him against the backrest of the couch. He cupped her breasts in his palms, while she tugged at his shirt and slipped her hands beneath it. He groaned as her hands traveled up his stomach onto his chest. Oh my god, this woman is hot.
Without giving it a second thought, Robert took off his shirt and then divested Marcela of hers. He unclasped her bra and took a moment to admire her lush breasts.
Chapter 8
Karen didn’t know how long she had been sitting on the curb crying. Meanwhile the sun had gone down and a chill was in the air. But she didn’t notice.
Lost in her misery she hadn’t seen the man until he was two steps away from her, towering over her. She glanced up and felt her heart racing again, blood rushing through her ears. The man, in his twenties, had the same rugged appearance as her muggers.
In the dimly lit street she couldn’t discern his facial features, but “Danger” was written all over his presence. He wore the same dark jeans, black leather jacket, black skullcap, and chains around his hips instead of a belt, like the two guys from before. The distinctive bulge in his front pocket looked awfully like a weapon. The only difference from the guys before was the insignia on the sleeves of his jacket.
Before she could get up and run away from him, he took another step toward her and asked, “Are you okay?”
His voice sounded more worried than menacing, but Karen still expected him to pull out that knife and mug her. Panic settled in her brain. She didn’t have anything left of value to give him and feared what he would do when he found out. She kept staring at him, afraid to answer his question.
He tried again, this time in Spanish. “Estás bien?”
For a short moment she caught a glimpse into his brown eyes, and strangely enough, his expression reassured her that he didn’t pose any threat to her.
