by J. C. Cliff
I know Nick has been a crazy, obsessed motherfucker from the first day Julianna was carried into the facility, but the other man? I shake my head in bewilderment. That was not one of Nick’s crew. Shit, I can’t even begin to solve that particular dilemma right now. I’m in survival mode, and in order to survive, my gut is telling me there is another tracker I missed somewhere on her body.
Grinding my teeth back and forth with frustration, I think about where in the hell another tracker could be. I begin scoping her battered body from head to toe, and then take it a step further and start feeling around her entire body like a groping, horny teenager.
“Really, Travis?!” Grant scoffs, almost in disgust. “She was just in a serious car accident. You got it that bad for her, son?”
I don’t stop my searching as I speak matter-of-factly, “Grant, I’ve got a serious situation here. I’m looking for a tracker.”
Grant immediately stops wrapping Julianna’s head with the gauze for a moment, turns to me in stunned disbelief, and then narrows his eyes in consternation as he whispers, “What the hell are you into, boy?”
I shake my head, breathing heavily. I’m frustrated as hell as I frantically search her body. “It’s ten-ways-to-Sunday fucked up, Grant. The less you know, the better—you know the drill—but I do know more than one person is after her.” I shift my eyes to the man I’ve idolized for years, my gaze hard and menacing. “They want her real bad, and they’re not fucking around.” Why they want her this bad, I haven’t the first clue.
I continue to feel around for a device, working my way to the edges of her clothing. “She’s got experimental drugs rolling through her system. I need you to help me detox her.”
“What kind of experimental drugs, Travis?” he asks warily.
“The list is too long, Doc.”
Grant is speechless as I skim my hands all over her body, growing more frustrated by the second. Sliding my hands to her pajama top’s sleeve’s hem, I feel nothing. Shit, come on. I make my way to the edge of her pant legs to feel for anything unusual. Son of a bitch! In the left leg of her hemmed bottoms is a small tracker. They must have put them in all her clothes. I rip her pants off without thought. Glancing over at Grant, the poor man is almost in shock; he isn’t used to this. He’s just standing there as if he’s seen a ghost.
“Grant, we’ve got a problem,” I tell him calmly as I kneel down, placing the tracker on the linoleum floor. “Snap out of it, Doc. Need you to finish up here. I’ve gotta get her out of here,” I demand. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my Leatherman knife. Using the back of the metal casing, I smash the tracker to hell, rendering it useless.
Grant slowly moves his glazed eyes from the crushed tracker on the floor to me, looking stunned. “Grant! C’mon, man.”
He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. Being the ever intellectual man, he tries to reason with me. “She needs to have some x-rays, possibly an MRI, and I don’t know the extent of her head injury yet. Right now, she’s experiencing temporary unconsciousness caused by a severe blow to the head. She could have a fractured skull, memory loss, brain injury, and twenty other things I can’t name right now. Hell, Travis!” He shouts my name, exasperated with me. Grant doesn’t cuss, ever, and when a speech ends with ‘Hell, Travis’, I know the poor man is at his wits’ end.
“Look, this facility is perfectly safe.” Grant continues, “Policemen hover around here twenty-four-seven. Surely someone would be nuts to even try—”
“That’s the operative word, Grant, nuts,” I interrupt, snapping at him. “They’re not only nuts, but when they want something; they will stop at nothing to get it. You need to understand one thing here, Doc, just one thing.” I hold up my index finger to drive my point home. “All those MRIs and diagnoses don’t mean shit if you’re determining her death in...” I pause, moving my gaze down to the face of my watch for effect, “…thirty minutes or less.” I stand to my full height, meeting him eye-to-eye. “If she stays, Grant, not only does she die, but so do we.”
He doesn’t care for this bit of news; I can see it plain as day in his body language. He’s not used to someone else calling shots in his domain, especially when it’s over a patient who clearly needs his attention. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He then lets out an exasperated sigh, indicating he’s throwing in the towel.
“All right, Travis, I get it. Whatever you need, you got it. You’ve got my number if you have questions or need more help.” He hesitates. “I’ve always trusted your instincts.”
~Jules~
Foggy confusion seems to be enveloping me as I rouse from a deep slumber. I’m hearing deep, masculine voices in the background, and they’re arguing back and forth. Desperately, I try to climb my way out of a whirling, dark vortex, but an overwhelming fatigue keeps clawing at me and dragging me back under. My brain is telling my limbs to move, but my body is just not getting the memo. I groan in frustration, and that little bit of noise has brought an awareness of pain exploding in the back of my skull.
Slowly, my eyes flutter open and two men come into view. I blink twice, because—Holy mother of Moses, did I die and go to heaven? My eyes hone in on the man to my right. I’m spellbound, because standing before me is a true Adonis. He has mountains of muscles, and he must be over six feet of unquestionable sin. The man should be illegal, or at least come with a warning label.
He looks as if he came straight out of a swimming pool and stepped right onto a GQ photo shoot set. I think I need to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming this up. His blue jeans and black t-shirt are soaking wet and clinging to every inch of his body, outlining every muscle one would see in a fitness magazine. I watch in wonder as his skin glistens under the lights, and then I take notice of a few water droplets precariously teetering from the tips of his wet hair. A warm smile begins to play across his lips as he inches closer, showcasing the most brilliant green eyes I’ve ever seen, and I gasp. Yes, I do believe I’ve made it past the pearly gates. Hot damn!
“You think I’m sexy?” His lips twitch with mirth as he hovers his well-defined body over mine without touching me. My eyes trail up his thickly roped, tan biceps and end at his eyes, which are dancing with mischief.
I lick my dry lips nervously as a croaky question slips out. “What are you talking about?” What kind of stranger just saunters up to someone and asks them if they’re sexy? Arrogant much? And why is my voice all messed up? Then I’m hit with an embarrassing realization, which contains blush-worthy knowledge: I just slipped up and spoke my thoughts aloud. Suddenly, I feel the blush rising to the tips of my ears, burning them to a crisp.
I avert my gaze from his in mortification, and glance around at my surroundings instead. I tilt my head to the side; something seems a little off with this picture, and I’m not quite sure what it is. I can’t seem to put my finger on it, but there are too many things that seem out of place. Confusion begins to consume me, and perhaps a bit of panic, because I feel my heart beginning to speed up as my eyes dart around the room with uncertainty. Before panic mode fully sets in, I feel hands grabbing mine, drawing my attention back to him as he anchors me with his mesmerizing voice.
“Hey now, shhh, don’t panic,” he softly whispers with a rich, baritone voice. This handsome man has me captivated as I watch him lean further in, stopping almost nose-to-nose with me. I can see concern dancing behind those bright orbs of his. “You’re going to be all right. I’ve got you.”
Frowning in confusion, my voice comes out low and raspy. “Who are you? Where am I, and—”
He interrupts me, his eyes wide with surprise, “Don’t you remember anything…anything at all?” he asks, disconcerted.
“No.” I wrinkle my nose. He should know I don’t know who he is. I glance to the other man, who looks older and highly distinguished with his salt and pepper hair. “What’s going on?” I ask.
He looks upon me with fatherly concern as his eyes crinkle at the corners. H
e lowers himself to my height as he explains. “I’m Dr. Anderson, and you’re in a hospital in Charleston, South Carolina.” He gestures with his hand to the other man. “This is Travis. He’s the one who brought you here. You were in an accident, and it caused a bit of head trauma.” I digest his words as understanding begins to register as to why my head is throbbing and I’m in a hospital bed, but it doesn’t answer the question of who these men are. “Dear, do you know your name?”
I stop to ponder the question. I was too busy trying to figure out who these men are to even consider such a ludicrous query, but he’s got me. I look to the doctor, searching his face, wanting him to clue me in, but he doesn’t. “Oh, my God!” I gasp. “I don’t even remember me!” My hand lifts to cover my mouth, panic-stricken, but Travis intercepts my hand and holds them both as he gives them a gentle, reassuring squeeze, but I’m nowhere near reassured.
I glance at Dr. Anderson, who doesn’t look happy. I watch him as he swipes his hand down his face and pauses to cup his hand over his mouth. He holds the pose for a minute in thought, his stark blue eyes full of consternation. I catch the two men shifting their eyes toward each other. There seems to be a silent conversation going on between them, all with a simple exchange of looks.
Suddenly, I realize it’s more than my head that’s aching. My brows come together with a new confusion. My backside hurts as well, and it’s the type of pain that has me guessing what kind of accident could cause this. This is more than a head injury, and I’m about to ask about it, when Dr. Anderson speaks up, interrupting my thoughts.
“Well, it appears we’ve got an amnesia issue, Travis.”
“What?” I blurt out. The realization of my predicament has my heart beating fast. I flinch when a machine suddenly begins beeping to my left. Dr. Anderson quickly moves to fiddle with the machine to silence it.
“Travis, we need to get her calmed down,” he says calmly over his shoulder. How can he be so calm and put together at a time like this? I watch through a haze as the doctor lifts a syringe in the air and draws liquid into a needle from a small dark bottle he’s holding upside down. When he’s done filling the syringe, he turns to me, giving me his full attention.
“I know your head hurts like it’s in a vise, so I’m going to give you medication for it. Is that all right with you?” I nod in reply. Dr. Anderson wastes no time as he gently takes my left arm and pricks me in the side of my bicep. I don’t care about the needle; I would take a hundred of them if it will get rid of the splintering headache and backache.
Why can’t I recall anything? I let out a long groan, and my head shouts in protest against the reverberating sound. My brain wants to explode, and my stomach twists with the new knowledge of my amnestic state. I feel as if I’m going to vomit from the sudden confusion and pain. This doctor must be very perceptive, because he immediately pipes in, leaning over the bed rail as he tries to soothe me.
“I want you to focus on your breathing right now. Everything is going to be okay, and you need to know you’re in very capable hands here.” Dr. Anderson gently rubs my shoulder with a fatherly touch and continues to speak in a reassuring tone. “The medicine is going to take a few minutes to get fully into your system, but once it does, you will feel much better. So what I need you to do is try and not tense up. I don’t want you worrying yourself over your memory loss right now. This sort of thing is normal after an accident such as yours. Your memory will return, but you’re going to need quite a bit of rest, and a lot of patience and time.”
I don’t know what to say. What does one say when they don’t remember anything? For some reason, though, I can remember Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and how she wakes to find herself in a new world, except my new world is minus memories.
I slowly shake my head in befuddlement, numb with the knowledge I’ve lost my memory. I shift my gaze to Travis. “Do you know who I am?” I ask hopefully, praying he knows something about me.
Travis lets go of my hands and cradles my cheeks as tender compassion flashes across his sparkling eyes. He looks pained and conflicted all at the same time, which is odd, since he’s not the one in a hospital bed. His calloused thumbs work in small gentle circles over my cheeks.
“Julianna,” he whispers then pauses, searching the depths of my eyes. “That’s your name, but you let your close friends call you Jules. We’ve only known each other for about a month now.”
I ponder his statement. “What do you call me?” I suddenly feel pressure on the back of my head, and instinctively, my hand raises, moving on automatic without thought, wanting to investigate the damage done to my head. Travis stops my traveling hand by gently grasping my wrist.
“Don’t touch, sweetheart. You’re bandaged up.” He lays my hand back down and then cradles my cheek again, giving me a sexy smirk. “You like me to call you Jules.” He gives me a flirtatious wink, and I feel almost paralyzed under his spell as I take in his suave features and his stark white teeth, which are half-hidden behind his sensually full lips. He’s an enigma, and I seem to forget all my discomfort when he stands here smiling in front of me like this.
Before I know what I’m doing, my fingers wind up doing their own walking as I fascinatedly touch the dark stubble along his jawline. My entire body shivers on contact. “And how do you know me?” I finally manage to ask. I need a towel to wipe the drool I’m sure is puddled in my lap.
He manages to give me a small smile. “Well, I was meeting you downtown for dinner. We were going out on our fourth date.” His voice is deep and sexy, and then he shakes his head with slight amusement. “You see, you were playing a game of hard to get with me. I had to play by your silly set of rules in order to date you. So each date we’ve gone on, you only allow each of us to ask one personal question about the other.” He gives me a look of admonishment. “I didn’t understand your little game, but I knew one thing: I would do anything just to have the chance at another date with you.”
I bite the inside of my lower lip in thought. Our little escapade sounds so intriguing to me, so I let him continue without interruption. “Your first name is all I know, and I was hoping today would be the day I would learn your last name.” I drop my hand from his cheek as he runs his through his wet hair in frustration. “Hell, I don’t even know where you live in Charleston, because you would pick the location of our date every time and make me meet you there.”
Then all of his playfulness gets pushed aside as his expression shifts to one of concern and seriousness. “When you weren’t at the restaurant we were supposed to meet at, I started to get really concerned. You’re a stickler for punctuality.” He pauses briefly. “I learned that the hard way on our second date.” I’m absorbing this man’s every word, trying to get a feel for the person I don’t remember I am. He’s so wrought with emotion I feel as if I’m retracing the steps of his memory with him.
“Anyway, when you never showed, I began asking around the restaurant, describing your features to patrons as they came in and asking if they’d seen you. When nobody had and you weren’t answering your cell, I really started to panic. With it raining cats and dogs outside, I thought maybe you were in a car accident. In a rain storm such as this and the way people still think they can drive their normal crazy on slick roads, well…that’s when I thought for sure you were in a wreck somewhere.”
Travis shakes his head, his eyes distant while recalling the memory. “I tried calling your cell over and over again, but it went straight to voicemail. So the only thing left to do was leave the restaurant and start scoping the streets for you. I jumped in my car and started driving around block after block, searching.” Then his eyes briefly close in pain, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. I feel so bad for him, especially when his voice catches as he speaks his next words. “I saw...I saw a body splayed out lifelessly in one of the alleyways, right in the middle of the side street. Oh, Jules, my gut clenched so bad, baby, because I knew it was you lying there in the pouring rain. Just from seeing your long blonde ha
ir from a distance, I knew it was you.” I see tears glisten in the corners of his eyes, and I hurt for this man. I can tell it messed him up to find me in such a state. “That’s how I found you, in an alleyway. You were battered, beaten, and unconscious.” He shakes his head at the horrid recollection. “I immediately called Dr. Anderson, who, thank God, was able to meet me here within minutes.”
I’m left speechless and not knowing what to think. It seems like a crazy story, but as I glance between the two men, I realize I am in a professional facility after all, and a doctor is treating me. I know the doctor is not faking his credentials; just by the way he carries himself. He holds that air of confidence doctors do. I almost have no choice but to believe Travis. I look back to the doctor and he gives me a nod of agreement. I don’t know what I’m going to do, however; no one knows my last name to help me out. Where am I going to go?
Dr. Anderson breaks into my thoughts again as if reading my mind. “Julianna, I can totally vouch for what Travis is telling you. I’ve known him his entire life, and I’d trust him with my very own life. He’s a good man, and whatever steps he suggests to take from here on out, I’d listen.”
My eyes shift uncomfortably between the two men. They seem to be concurring wholeheartedly with unspoken words again, when it seems just five minutes ago, I was hearing them argue about something. They were loudly opposing each other in a heated battle of wills.
“Look, I’ll just step outside a moment while you two chat.” He gives me a reassuring pat on the arm, and then turns to Travis, giving him a curt nod. As he makes his way to the door, he pauses and turns around to meet my eyes, speaking with utter conviction. “Trust what this man says.” Then he turns to Travis. “I’ll just go gather a few things while you talk. It shouldn’t take but a minute.” He slips out, shutting the door behind him.
