by J. C. Cliff
Based on the look on Travis’ face, I’m feeling a sense of unspoken urgency in his body language. I watch as he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he takes a moment of silence before speaking to me.
“Look, I know this is a lot of information to take in all at once, but you have to believe me when I tell you I have your best interest at heart.” He expels a large breath and leans forward. “I’m going to shoot straight with you here.” He pins me down with serious, stark eyes, and I grow concerned. “I don’t think your mugging was an accident. I think someone is after you, and truthfully, I don’t even think you’re safe here in this hospital. Hell, I don’t even think you’re safe here in Charleston.”
“You’re scaring me, Travis,” I whisper shakily, twisting my hands in a knot. “I don’t even know you. If I’ve only seen you for a few dates, how have you surmised this wasn’t an accident?” I shift in the bed and immediately wince in pain. It hurts from my shoulders to my calves, and for the life of me, short of being put through a meat grinder, I can’t figure out what could’ve done this to me. I close my eyes while stealing a deep breath against the soreness. I feel the need to take inventory of my injuries, but before I can do such a task, the side of the bed dips as Travis sits by my side.
I gaze into his eyes as he grabs my hands again, this time a little more tightly, and his voice comes out urgent. “I wish we had the time to go into all of the details right now, but we don’t. I need you to trust me. I need to get you out of here and take you away to somewhere safe.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” My brows furrow in question. “I don’t even know who I am.” I pull my hand from his and wave it around the room. “How do I trust anything going on around me? I’m really confused, and I don’t know what to think. Plus, why would you help me, especially if you barely even know me? Why not just call the police?”
He lets go of my hand, exhaling heavily as he runs both hands through his wet hair in exasperation. “You’re right; you don’t know you can trust me, or trust anything going on.” Leaning in to cradle my face, he’s so close, close enough to kiss. The smell of an ocean breeze tickles my senses, and a shiver runs down my spine. His eyes shift over mine imploringly with utter sincerity.
“I’m asking you to take a leap of faith here. There is a small window of opportunity for safety, and it’s closing in on us. It’s closing in fast, Jules; we have to leave. I truly do have your best interest and safety at heart, and you heard Dr. Anderson.” He looks pleadingly at me and something in the tone of his voice rings true. “If I was the bad guy, I wouldn’t have brought you here, would I? I do have my reasons for helping you,” he pauses to give me a small grin. “Besides the fact I think you’re one hot babe, but right now, every minute that ticks by is a minute closer to danger. Please, let me get you out of here. I promise once I feel you’re safe, I will explain more to you.”
He pleads a convincing case, making me want to believe every word proceeding from his soft lips. Even though I have a niggling sense something is off, I have to weigh the facts. I bite my lower lip in thought. He did rescue me, after all, and he brought me to a hospital, seeking help. Both he and the doctor seem genuinely concerned for my wellbeing. I glance up at Travis, who seems to be on edge, waiting for an answer. Apparently, I need to make a hard and fast decision.
“Okay.” I decide to go with my gut feeling, trusting this man.
His shoulders immediately release his tension. His hands move to my shoulders, and he gently kisses my nose. “We need to get you dressed. We don’t have much time.” Dressed? I glance down at my petite body and am instantaneously mortified. I’m only wearing a pajama top and underwear!
“Oh, my God!” I look to Travis, horrified. “I...I don’t understand. Why am I only in a pajama top?” My heart starts racing, and before I can line up questions, Travis is there coddling my growing panic. He gently traces my jawline with his fingertip, trying to soothe my frayed nerves.
Seeing the look in my eyes, as if he is reading my mind, he speaks quickly. “You weren’t raped, if that’s what you’re thinking, but I did find you lying in the alleyway in just your panties.” His Adam’s apple bobs again with a thick swallow. “Look, I truly don’t expect you to understand any of this right now, but you have to trust me here. I can explain this to you once I get you somewhere safe, okay? I’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes and into a pair of scrubs, and then we need to leave.”
My body releases a few uncontrolled tremors and a huge breath. “Okay,” I shakily whisper with trepidation, “I will trust you.”
The medicine begins snaking its way through my body full steam ahead, and I feel woozy. “Let me help you get into some dry clothes.” He wastes no time as he begins to carefully and slowly unbutton my pajama top. I’m glad this medicine is chilling me out right now, because I know if I was sober, I would be blushing ten shades of red; a hot, handsome man deftly working his way into my pajama top? Good Lord!
I watch his face and can tell he’s trying not to let his eyes roam over my breasts. His chivalry is not lost on me, and instead of being embarrassed, it slightly turns me on, even in the state I’m in. What is wrong with me?
When his thumbs hook into the sides of my drenched panties, I lose my breath. However, I think they’re drenched for an entirely different reason now. He looks intently into my eyes as he slides them off my hips and over my feet. Damn, he’s sexy. My eyes fall to his mouth, and I bite my lower lip. I’m breathing a little heavier than before, and I feel my heartbeat thump against my chest.
His rich, baritone voice breaks the sexual tension I’m feeling. “Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.” He arches his brow and flashes me a knowing smile.
Oh, hell. I’m so busted for getting turned on and ogling him, but I try to play it off. “Don’t be so impressed with yourself, big boy,” I reply dryly, as if he didn’t affect me in the least.
He chuckles as he turns around and grabs a pair of scrubs from the counter. He doesn’t respond, but makes quick work of getting me into dry clothing. Him not perving on me makes me trust him even more. He seems so intent on what he’s doing, and his actions tell me he does indeed want to get the hell out of here, and quick.
I find myself yawning, and my eyes involuntarily blink open and closed several times as I fight the medicine. “It’s going to be okay, Jules. Don’t fight the medicine.” He tenderly grazes his thumb over my lips, and whispers, “I’ve got you.” Then he gives me a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I’m just going to step outside the door for a second. I need to talk to the good doctor, and then we’ll be on our way, all right?”
I sleepily nod, and when he turns to leave, I roll my head to the side, scoping out Travis’ ass. Day-um, the man has serious glutes, and his wet jeans are plastered to his thick, muscled thighs. I can see the muscles flex in his broad shoulders as he goes to open the heavy hospital door. Yes, I think to myself, I’d follow this man into hell he’s so hot. I close my eyes and let a drug-induced giggle escape my lips.
~Travis~
When I step out into the empty hallway, Grant is standing against the wall on the opposite side with his arms crossed. Glancing down at his feet, I see a large tote bag full of supplies he’s gathered for me. I approach him, stopping in front of him, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He lets out an exaggerated sigh, indicating to me he’s throwing in the towel, even though he disagrees with my decision. “All right, Travis, I get it. Whatever you need, you got it; you have my number if you have any questions.”
“You have no idea how much your help means to me.”
“I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but the way you just lied in there…” He gestures with his hand, indicating the room behind me, where Jules is. Exasperation lines his deep voice as he shakes his head at me. “The lies just rolled off your tongue without even missing a beat.” He runs his hand back and forth over the top of his buzz cut in frustration.
“Hell, Travis! You told her you were meeting her for dinner at,” he looks down at his watch, “eleven o’clock in the morning! You were so damn slick you even had me buying it. I bet you could pass a slew of lie detectors, while your hand is still in the cookie jar.”
I did fuck that one up didn’t I? I’ve been running on fumes since New York, and lost track of time in the midst of this chaos. I want to laugh so bad over my faux pas but realize it’s because I’m probably getting a little slap happy from the lack of sleep, and if I crack up, Grant will be pissed. It’s a good thing she was unconscious beforehand. She had no sense of how much time had passed.
I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid erupting into laughter over my mishap as Grant’s animated tirade continues. “You know I hate backing up a lie more than anything in this world. Whatever this is you’re into, it has me thinking you’re in way over your head.” Yes, he may have a point there. I don’t know where the waterline is, and I may very well be drowning, but not likely. I have a few life preservers stowed away.
I try to ease Grant’s worry. He doesn’t know exactly what I do; he just knows I live in constant danger, but it guts me nonetheless to see him so upset. I hate having to blatantly lie in front of him, but I had no choice. I couldn’t see her making a cognizant decision, and I didn’t think she would want to go willingly if I told her I kidnapped her. With time being of the essence, I had to say whatever it took to get her to comply willingly. I would’ve taken her by force if I had to, but I wanted her to think coming with me was her decision. I feel we’ve already wasted enough valuable time as it is, and I’m not used to dealing with these sorts of problems, especially having to smooth ruffled feathers; it’s not my forte.
I reach out and clasp Grant’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Grant, man, listen. You have to trust me here. I’ve got this under control. She is in danger, serious danger, and I will do anything...anything at all to keep her out of harm’s way.” This man, who has played the part of my dad for the past twenty some-odd years, is truly worried. He’s never seen me on the run before. It’s usually the other way around, as people run from me. I look him square in the eyes, unblinking. “If I have to lie to keep her safe, so be it. I will deal with the aftermath later.”
Grant exhales a deep breath. “I know, Travis. It’s just hard sometimes for me to be able to accept your line of work. I worry about you.”
I pull Grant in for a father and son type hug, and we slap each other on the back roughly. “I appreciate it, man, more than you know, but I’m good.” I pull back, holding both of my palms out. “I promise I’m good. No need to worry. All I need is just a little help piecing Jules back together.”
Grant nods his head in agreement. “What do you need?”
“Well, for starters, can you give me an educated guess of how long her memory loss will last?”
Grant blows out a big breath, his cheeks ballooning and his lips fluttering as the forced air rushes out. He shakes his head, staring off to the side, looking at nothing in particular. “Honestly, even with extensive x-rays and testing, it’s difficult to gauge the severity of her situation accurately. If I had to guess, her head injury seems to be bordering on the high side of moderate. It could even be teetering on the edge of severe,” he rests his hands on his hips, cocking his head to the side, “but not having a crystal ball, it’s hard to pinpoint where she’s at in the scheme of things. Judging from the wild goose chase you two seem to be on, the use of experimental drugs running through her system, and all of her compiled stresses,” he pauses in thought, and then scratches his head, “I’d say there are quite a few variables stacked against her, all of which have contributed to where she’s at right now.”
“Grant.” He didn’t answer my question. He always gets sidetracked with semantics. I’d hate to be in a conversation with him and Jared. All I want is a number.
“Travis, there is no black and white here, especially with drug-induced amnesia. You combine those drugs with a traumatic head injury; it just compounds the memory loss exponentially. This can last hours, days, even weeks. I’d even venture to say on top of everything else she’s been through, she’s shell-shocked.”
I sure as hell know what that is. This happened a lot overseas, fighting behind enemy lines when I was in the military. When my team and I fought under long-term duress, sometimes I would discover quite a few of our men having memory gaps. It would sometimes take them weeks to get their memories straight again. I’m pulled from my thoughts as I realize Grant has been talking on without me paying attention.
“...anterograde and retrograde amnesia—”
“Grant,” I interrupt, “let’s just keep this in layman’s terms, yeah?”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, refocusing on the quick and dirty info I need. “She shouldn’t make important decisions. You have to keep her in a calm environment, Travis.” He stares me down as if I’m going to throw her back in the fray of shit she just came out of. “She’s going to have trouble analyzing information for a good while, and you may find her wandering off.”
“Wandering off?”
“Yes, sometimes amnesia patients just decide to wander off and explore for no reason. So you’ll have to keep a close eye on her.” He pauses for a second in thought. “Oh…I almost forgot,” he adds, pointing at me with his finger. “She may have a heck of a time remembering new information. If you want something to sink in, you’re going to have to repeat it...a lot. You may even try using hand signals. If you combine those signals along with words, it should go a long way in her ability to retain new info.”
“Duly noted.” I turn to go get Jules, but Grant grabs me by the shoulder, stopping me.
“Travis, if you leave the majority of her drugs with me I can create different dosages, declining the milligrams in each dose. That way, we can slowly wean her off of them safely. I can mail them to you anywhere you need, but I need to know the ingredients.” He knows I’m hesitating to give him this information. Being caught with this Intel could cost him his life. I don’t want to risk that. “Travis, listen to me,” he pleads. “By knowing what the ingredients are, it will help me decide what she needs, so I can help her system go through a safe withdrawal.”
I sigh and give in to him. “The drugs are in my backpack.” I nod to the room behind me. “Once I get settled, I can email you an encrypted file of everything you’ll need.” I grab Grant by the shoulders, getting his undivided attention. With a morbid seriousness, I let him know, “Once you get that information, you do not print it, you do not save it; read it, then delete it. If you chicken scratch it down, burn the paper afterwards. You’ve never seen it, never heard of it.”
“Son of a bitch...what kind of shit are you into, Travis?” he whispers, horrified. Yeah, I’ve stressed the poor man. This is the most I’ve heard him cuss since I was an incorrigible teenager. “I hope you know what you’re doing here.” I know he’s talking about Jules, and I hope to hell I know what I’m doing too.
I shake my head. “You can’t afford to know a damn thing, Grant. You just make damn sure you do as I say.”
“I swear, if I don’t have a heart attack by the end of today, I won’t ever have one,” he mumbles under his breath.
I chuckle at this uncomplicated man, who likes to live the simple southern life at home when he’s not at work. I nod toward the bag on the floor. “What’s in the bag?”
He bends down, picks the tote up by its handles, and rummages around inside. “I’ve got extra bandages.” He looks up at me. “Do you know how to change a head dressing?” I nod, trying to be patient. I hear the time as it starts ticking away in the back of my head, and I’m getting a little antsy. We’ve been here long enough, and it’s time to blow this joint. I don’t care what else is in the bag at this point; we need to go.
“Grant, I’m gonna need to borrow a set of wheels too.”
Grant continues his search, pilfering through the bag’s contents, unfazed with my question as he speaks
into the bag. “Travis, you are the son I never had; you know what’s mine is yours. Ah, here it is.” He pulls out a clear bag full of medicine and holds it up for me to see. “I need to go over these with you.”
I take the bag from his hand, place the items back into the tote, and shake my head no. “Grant, we’ve got no more time. We all have to leave…now.”
“Travis...”
“Grant, I most likely know what those drugs are and what to do with them. Since I have a change in plans, I will be meeting up with Stryker anyway. He can give me the rundown.” Stryker was a medic in my unit while I served in the military. We’re brothers, just not by blood.
“All right then.” He takes a good look at me in my wet attire and shakes his head in disapproval. “I laid dry scrubs out for you too. You need to change.”
“No time left. C’mon.” I feel the adrenaline of the chase pick up in the beat of my heart with each step I take. Walking back into the room I left Jules in, my heart sinks at the very sight of her. The medicine has her sleeping peacefully. Her blonde hair is soaked and matted, with half of it hidden behind bandages, which are wrapped around the top-half of her head. I die a little on the inside seeing her this way.
Grant places his hand on my shoulder and whispers near my ear. “She’s going to be fine, son. We just need to let her heal; give her some time.” I nod and move toward my backpack, getting the majority of the drugs out for Grant to take with him.
Grant carries the tote of supplies and my backpack, while I carry Jules in my arms. “Travis, I can get a stretcher, you know.”
“This is much faster.” We make our way through the hospital corridors, and then step out into the parking garage, and again, I’m thankful we’re only a few steps away from his vehicle. Rank sure does have its privileges in preferential parking for doctors.
