Intrigued, I clicked back to the results and selected a video next. The link took me to a clip of a dark, smoky club. I clicked the icon to set the video to full screen, and sat back to watch. A stage filled the back of the room, with a large banner emblazoned with Sweet Surrender hung behind the drum kit. People chattered excitedly in the background as four men took to the stage. Each band member took up their instruments as a chant of “Boom! Boom!” started up amongst the crowd. The cameraperson focused in on the guitar player and my eyes grew wide as I recognized my childhood friend, and fellow cop, Pat Mitchell. He gripped the microphone stand in-front of him and gave the crowd a cheeky grin. “Y’all want some JJ?”
The crowd went wild, cries of “JJ” and “Boom” filling the room. I watched, disbelief filling me as pyrotechnics went off in a bright shower of sparks behind the drummer. My very familiar profile emerged on the stage clad in leather pants and not much of anything else. A few thick straps criss-crossed my chest. Otherwise, I was bare from the waist up. What. The. Hell?
I stepped up to the microphone, guitar hanging against my back, and gazed out at the crowd from beneath my lashes. The camera zoomed in, focusing on my face and the dark rings of eyeliner surrounding my hazel eyes. My hair hung in a thick fringe over the right side of my face, obscuring part of it, but the smirk looking at me from the screen was undoubtedly recognizable as me, John James Lopez.
The drummer counted out a beat and we launched into a ripper of a rock song, all guitar riffs and heavy beats. Fans went wild, singing along with me as they danced and screamed. I watched in stunned silence as we tore through our set. Finally, as we filed off stage for a break, the person filming our show panned out and I hear her speak. “Man, JJ Boom is killing it tonight. How can it be legal for a man to be that sexy and talented? It should be a crime, or a sin. Something.”
Another female voice snorted. “You said it, Liv. One hundred percent agreement over here.”
Shit. Liv? I clicked the Escape button and located the handle for the video poster. The name was innocuous enough—OKHughes. What go my attention was the picture of a very familiar brunette with flashing green eyes. “The fuck?” I muttered under my breath as I clicked through her other posted videos. Almost everything OKHughes had posted was of Sweet Surrender. Live performances, radio interviews, fan meet-and-greets. Dozens of videos of me, and the band.
I sat back and shut the laptop. How could she not know? She had hours of footage with my face all over it, and spent twelve hours a day with me. She had to know who I was. How could she not?
The call bell sat on the mattress beside me, clipped to the edge of my pillow. I picked it up and pressed the small red button that would bring Lisa, my current nurse, running to see what I needed. Sure enough, within seconds, the sound of her shoes squeaked across the floor and she appeared in the doorway of my cubicle.
“What time does Olivia get in?” I fired off the question before she could ask what I needed.
Lisa frowned and glanced at her watch. “Should be here in the next hour or so for shift change. Why?”
I shook my head and leaned back against the pillows, eyes closed. “Just send her in as soon as you can, please? I need to speak with her about something.”
She eyed me skeptically but nodded all the same before turning on her heel and leaving me to the turbulent thoughts bouncing around in my head. The video replayed in my mind, flashing the image of my face with the flimsy eyeliner disguise across the backs of my eyelids. Who would be fooled by such a weak attempt at hiding my identity? It was like Clark Kent masquerading behind a pair of glasses to hide the fact he was Superman. Were people really so oblivious that they couldn’t see through the thin disguise? I pushed the thoughts aside. Olivia would be here soon, and I could ask her then. My pretty little nurse had answers that I needed, and I was determined to get them, one way or another.
Chapter Seven
Olivia
Francis met me at the elevators as I exited them ten minutes before our shift change meeting was scheduled to start. I stopped in my tracks as I spotted him leaning against the way where he was laying in wait for me. He pushed off the wall and gave a slight tilt of the head for me to follow. Oh boy. The headache I’d woken up with pulsed behind my eyes. I squeezed them shut for a moment, took a deep breath and refocused.
“What’s up?” I fell into step beside him, adjusting my backpack against my shoulder while we walked.
Francis glanced at me sidelong, a frown marring his handsome features. “Is there something going on with you and Lopez?”
I stopped and turned to face him, mouth agape as the question sank in. “Really?” One of his eyebrows rose as he stopped and turned to face me. Francis cocked his head to the side and I realized that he was serious. “No. There’s nothing going on between Sergeant Lopez and me. He’s a patient, and I’m his nurse-slash-physiotherapist. Why? What happened while I was gone that’s suddenly brought this on?”
Francis stared at me for a long moment and I felt sweat bead on the back of my neck under his scrutiny. He scratched at the edge of his jaw and glanced toward the doors into the unit. “He called Lisa into the bay earlier and asked when you were coming in. She said he looked upset or disturbed by something. He wants to see you as soon as you get in. Any idea why that could be?”
My shoulders lifted in a shrug and I shook my head. “Not a clue. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since our physio session yesterday afternoon. There was nothing out of the ordinary with that either. Honestly, Francis, I have no idea what’s going on. This is all news to me.”
“Hm. Okay.” The charge nurse scratched at his jaw and nodded for me to keep walking. “Best head on in and see what the deal is, but keep me posted on what’s going on. I like you, Liv, and I really don’t want to have to report you for inappropriate behavior with a patient. Yeah?”
I nodded and increased my pace, scowling as I entered the unit. Lisa caught my attention as I passed the nursing desk and I gave her a quick jerk of the head to follow me into the staff room. Whatever she saw on my face, it was enough to get her scurrying in behind me. I tossed my backpack inside the locker assigned to me, slammed the door shut and spun to face Lisa as she shut the door behind her.
“What the hell?” I glared bullets at her, my right eyebrow lifted in question.
Lisa put her hands up in a defensive gesture and took a step back. “Liv, you have to understand. The way Lopez asked for you and his demeanor when he called me into the bay... It looked personal; like he was upset about something directly relating to you. I had to tell Francis. He was right beside me when the call bell went off.”
She gestured to the bench behind me and I plopped down, dropping my face into my hands as I exhaled a long breath. “What did he want?”
“Dunno.” She took a seat beside me and gently rubbed my back. “He looked really confused, and kinda pissed off, to be honest. Is there something going on?”
I shook my head, grinding my fingertips against my temples to stave off the headache that loomed just behind my eyeballs. My thoughts turned to the previous day’s physiotherapy session, examining every movement and exercise I’d put Sergeant Lopez through. Nothing struck me as out of the ordinary, or unprofessional. We’d talked about the few people who’d been to visit him that morning, the weather and his progress with regards to regaining the memories that were blocked; all things which fell within the scope of my care for him as a medical professional, nothing more or less.
“Not that I’m aware of, Lisa. We’ve stuck to strictly professional and care related topics. There’s been a little discussion about his memories, and visitors. Otherwise, I barely interact with him.”
She rose from the bench and shrugged. “I don’t know, Liv. Whatever it was, he looked like his best friend had betrayed him when I walked into the bay earlier. You might want to go see what that’s about.”
I sighed and rose, shoulders slumped as I followed her out of the staff room. The dream of finally hav
ing achieved my career goal felt like it was slipping out of my hands with each step I took toward Bay #1. What happened in the eighteen hours since I’d left after our last physio session? Better yet, what could have lead Sergeant Lopez to become upset with me?
The familiar strains of a song I knew very, very well floated from the bay as I approached. Each individual hair on the back of my neck stood on end as I pushed aside the drawn curtains and stepped through. My patient sat upright in his bed, a laptop open on the table in front of him, and the heavy guitar riffs of Sweet Surrender’s Break You playing from the speakers. I knew the song well. The band was my favorite, and one I regularly saw in concert at local venues.
“Nice of you to join me.” He looked up, a smirk on his face. “Is there something you wanted to share with me, OKHughes?”
A chill ran down my spine and my eyes widened as his words sank in. He turned the laptop around for me to see and my heart stuttered at the YouTube channel playing on the screen. The page was wallpapered with bold lettering that said BOOM with little explosions behind it, and professed my fandom of the band’s lead singer, JJ Boom.
“I don’t know what you mean?” I shifted my eyes to look at him and frowned. “Yes, I’m a fan of Sweet Surrender. What does that have to do with you, or my care of you?”
He tilted his head to the right, those analytical hazel eyes boring into me. Long, tapered fingers tapped against the edge of the table for a brief seconds that felt like an eternity to my suddenly frazzled nerves. He reached out, tapped the space bar to pause the video and then returned his gaze to me.
“You really have no clue?”
I shook my head. “About? What does Sweet Surrender have anything to do with you, or my care of you?”
A few taps on the mouse and an image loaded—a full screen facial shot of the singer. Lopez held up the laptop and quirked his right eyebrow at me. “Nothing?”
The same hazel eyes stared back from the screen. One set lined with black, the other free of makeup. The same straight nose and strong jaw. Identical cheekbones and full, kissable lips. Holy hell.
“No. That’s not possible.” My stomach flipped, rolled and squeezed as realization sunk in. I dropped down into a nearby chair and lowered my head to rest in my hands between my knees. How had I not seen it? The headache I’d been wishing away exploded and I let out a groan as the pain overtook me. This man’s face was one I’d spent hours looking at in photographs, on video and in person at concerts and events. How could I have not seen that the man under my care was one and the same? Because, my mind rationalized, I wasn’t looking for him in my patient. I saw a man who needed caring for, not a rock-god in leather pants and guy-liner.
I sucked in slow breaths through my nose, trying my best to stave off the wave of nausea that threatened to toss my hastily eaten breakfast all over the bay floor. There would be no puking in front of my patient. Definitely not in front of JJ Boom.
“Hell,” I muttered and rubbed at my temples. “I’m in hell.”
He coughed softly but I refused to look up. I was too busy castigating myself for being ten kinds of oblivious idiot. How had I not seen it? The question plagued me, digging at my brain while I tried to rub away the pain throbbing in my temples.
“You okay?” His soft question drifted across to me and I gave my head an infinitesimal shake. “Want me to call Lisa?”
I snorted, and then groaned as a fresh wave of pain annihilated my grey matter. “Yeah, like you did this morning?”
Silence greeted my snarky comment. I knew I was being grossly unprofessional, but right then, I didn’t give a monkey’s butt about appearances. The sound of shoes squeaking across linoleum reached my ears and I let out a low growl as the tips of Lisa’s hot pink Nikes appeared in my peripheral vision. He’d tapped the call button. Perfect.
“Liv?” A gentle hand touched down on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I let my shoulders slump, defeat weighing down on me like a lead cloak. The pain in my head ratcheted up another notch, venturing into full blown migraine territory. My stomach heaved and I gave in. “No. I’m going to puke in a minute. I’ve got a Texas sized migraine that’s threatening to blow my head off if I don’t do something about it immediately.”
She cursed softly, the squeak of her sneakers announcing her retreat from the bay. Where she was going, I didn’t know. Nor did I much care. What I did know? I needed to get out of that room, and pronto. With great deliberation, I took a deep breath and rose from the chair. The room swam around me and I took a moment to steady myself. I could hear Lopez speaking behind me, his voice coming through as if we were playing a game of soup can telephone.
The world narrowed to a pin point of light with each staggering step I took. My goal was to reach the staff room and collapse on the cot there until the pain subsided enough for me to function with a modicum of normalcy. I made it to the bay’s exit before several sets of hands gripped me and guided me back inside. Forced into the chair I’d recently vacated, I heard Francis’ voice in my ear.
“Olivia, sit your ass down and stay down.” A large hand wrapped around my wrist, fingertips pressing on my pulse point. Someone else was tugging at the right sleeve of my hoodie as if they wanted to remove it. “Do you have any allergies? We need to give you something for the pain.”
I shook my head and instantly regretted it. “No,” I whispered. “No allergies.”
Whoever was trying to strip me succeeded in getting my sleeve low enough to meet their satisfaction and I felt a sharp pinch in my bicep. Warmth rushed under my skin as whatever they injected into me spread into the muscle tissue and made its way into my bloodstream. I tried to ask what they’d given me, but my voice refused to form the question.
“Relax,” Francis cooed in my ear. “It’s a small dose of Toradol. You’ll feel better soon.”
Mumbled words, unrecognizable even to me, fell from my lips. I’d reached the shut down stage of my migraine. The pain had taken over and was forcing me to stop all non-essential functions. Eyes closed, I gave in and waited for the medication to do its thing. There would be time to feel embarrassed about the situation once my head stopped feeling like its contents were inside of a blender set on puree.
When I opened my eyes next, I found myself in a darkened room. I took a moment to register my surroundings and realized that I’d been put into the empty Bay #2 bed.
“Welcome back.” Francis’ voice came from somewhere behind me. Careful not to move too fast, I rolled to my right side and faced him. He gave me a warm smile and closed the book he’d been reading. “How’s the head?”
I licked my lips a few times to get the saliva flowing in my mouth again. “Like it’s full of pudding. Otherwise, peachy. How long was I out?”
Francis checked his watch. “A couple of hours.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and fixed his gaze on me. “So, you really had no idea who he is?”
The events prior to my passing out rushed back and I groaned, rolling to my stomach to bury my face in the pillow. Mortified, I replayed the moment when the identity of my patient merged with that of my local celebrity crush. Crap on a cracker. I was so screwed.
“I’ll take that as a no.” The rustle of clothes alerted me that Francis had risen from his chair. When his hand gently touched my shoulder, I tensed. “It’s okay, Liv. Lopez and I had a talk while you were out. You’re not in trouble, but this will need to be discussed if you’re going to continue to be his nurse and physiotherapist.”
I nodded, rolling away from his touch in order to sit up. “Sure. Thanks, Francis.” He smiled when I looked up at him. “Can I get a few minutes to freshen up? I’ll be out on the floor to work after a quick trip to the staff room.”
“Sure.” His smile spread up to reach his eyes. “Take your time.”
He left the bay and I turned my thoughts inward. How could I continue to work with Sergeant Lopez knowing that he was also the man I’d been crushing over since the first time I’d seen Sweet S
urrender? Christ on toast. I could almost smell my dream job bursting into flames at the thought. This would not end well.
Chapter Eight
John
The letterhead on the documents in front of me read Johnson, Patterson and Smythe – Solicitors and Estate Agents. I blinked as my eyes scanned over the contents of a contract the gentleman who’d introduced himself as Mr. Smythe had presented me a few minutes ago. It was an employment contract for Olivia to work as my private nurse and physiotherapist upon my release from the hospital. Holy hell. Could the day get any weirder?
“She’s seen this?” I glanced at the diminutive lawyer as I set the pages down on the bedside table. “And accepted the offer?”
Mr. Smythe began to nod, and then switched to a shake of his head. “Yes, and no, Sir. She was presented the contract last week, but has yet to extend her assent or refusal. We were hoping to speak with her today and obtain a final decision on the matter.”
I frowned, recalling Olivia’s state earlier. Lisa and Francis had moved her to another room after the medication had taken effect, and I hadn’t set eyes on her since. Another nurse, Jackie, had been to check my vitals on morning rounds instead of Olivia. I’d tried asking how she was doing, but the nurse refused to answer. “Today might not be the best time for that. I’m not even sure if Miss Hughes is still here.” He frowned as though he didn’t understand. “She fell ill earlier and I haven’t seen her since. You might want to check with the charge nurse.”
The soft squeak of sneakers on linoleum grew closer and I looked up at the entrance to my room. A very pale and tired looking Olivia approached, tablet in hand and a wary expression on her face. She halted in the doorway as my visitor came into view.
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