“Can’t. Little wifey won’t let me have my clothes. Or my record collection for that matter.”
Constantine rolled her eyes dramatically. “I told him to have the police escort him there. She can’t hold his belongings hostage!”
Jason sipped his coffee, and Taylor had a suspicion that there was more than just cream and sugar in the cup. “Yes, perhaps I will do that.” He patted Namir’s knee lightly. “Once our one man army is back home.”
“He might be released tomorrow.”
Constantine slid her eyes coyly to him. “Will you need sponge baths?”
Taylor glared, her mouth opening to speak, but Namir topped her. “If I need a bath, Taylor can give it to me.”
Jason raised his eyebrows and watched Constantine over the rim of his cup. She stared back, her lips holding a smirk. “Well, well…now this is interesting.”
A short nurse, no taller than 5’1”, with short gray hair, came into the room bearing the gifts of crackers and ginger ale.
“Now, don’t eat too many too fast.” She looked up at Taylor. “Make sure he only eats two at a time, then takes a break. And only let him have a sip or two at a time as well.” She took the white paper wrapper off of the straw and plopped it into the little can.
Namir looked at it doubtfully. “That’s a really little can. I could snort that and still need more.”
She laughed and left the room.
“Guess she doesn’t care.” He grumbled and sipped the cold drink into his mouth. He nearly swooned from the coldness and flavor.
“Hey!” Taylor said, and yanked the soda from his clutching hands. “Too much!” She frowned.
Jason motioned to Constantine. “I think Nurse Randall has it all under control. Let’s peruse the breakfast offerings in the cafeteria.”
“Ugh. That place is filthy!” Constantine complained, but stood to follow him out.
Taylor handed Namir two crackers and watched like a hawk as he nibbled on them. Constantine and Jason had only been gone for a few minutes before the detective that had been to the hospital the day of the bombing returned.
He knocked lightly on the door. “I see Mr. Stone is awake.” He smiled, pulling his dark skin back from perfect white teeth.
“He is.” Taylor said and stood by the bed.
“Mind if I talk with you for a few minutes, Namir?”
“Sure.”
“I’m Detective Roberts, and I’m handling the case.” He extended a hand, which Namir shook with as much strength as he could muster. He didn’t want to seem weak to this man. He had no idea why that was important to him.
Detective Roberts flipped his notebook open. “Please tell me as much as you can remember about Saturday morning.”
Namir recounted everything from the time he checked the monitors to the point where he heard the hissing noise. He purposefully omitted the part about smelling the air and crouching low.
Detective Roberts looked at him steadily. “You heard a hiss?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“How far away were you from the paper box?”
Namir shrugged. “Ten or twelve feet.”
Detective Roberts turned his attention slowly to Taylor. “Miss Randall how long ago did the stalking type text messages start for you?”
“Months ago.” She rubbed the side of her arm. “My manager had my number changed twice.”
“And when did Mr. Stone come into your employment?”
“Jason hired him while I was on a photo shoot in Little Cayman.”
Detective Roberts closed his notebook. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Detective Roberts, may I have a word?”
“Certainly.”
Taylor led the Detective into the hallway, as Namir stared suspiciously after her.
I knew something else was up.
Taylor looked at the detective and realized he was only slightly taller than her height. “Sir, there is a young man named Harrison Badon that showed up here claiming to be my half-brother.”
“Had you ever heard of a half-brother?”
Taylor shook her head. She tried to explain the trust fund, and told him that Harrison had claimed to have a trust fund too, and how he had called her house and Greta had told him she was at the hospital.
“Who handled your trust fund?”
“Breslow.”
“Ok.” He said. “I’ll check it out.” His brown eyes looked into hers. “Do you suspect this young man?”
Taylor shrugged. “I think it’s a strange coincidence.”
Detective Roberts nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
Taylor watched him walk away, feeling uneasy. What would it be like when they went back home?
Taylor was a roaring beast as they helped Namir up the steps. “Jason! I told you to take it easy!” She placed her hand on her forehead. “I knew we should have asked for a wheelchair!”
“I’m fine, Taylor. It’s just still a little hard walking. My back’s still bruised.”
When they entered the house, Greta had been thoughtful enough to place Lancelot on his leash, so he wouldn’t jump on Namir and hurt him. The dog perked his ears and barked once. Namir commented that he looked like he had grown.
“He looks more like a wolf every day.” Greta said proudly. “He even howled the first night the two of you were gone.”
“Aww, we missed it, Namir.” Taylor said with a pout.
“Don’t worry. It won’t be the last time he howls. Will it boy?” Namir said as he knelt slowly to the floor. Lancelot licked his face furiously. Taylor joined him and received a similar bath, as he strained against the leash.
“Let me help Namir upstairs, then you can let him go. Where’s Mother?”
“Shopping.” Greta said.
“Shopping? The day Namir comes…never mind…it’s better this way.” Taylor said as she began the slow ascent with Namir up the stairs.
Namir’s head was completely clear, but for some reason his back injury was taking the longest to heal. The doctor had said it was a deep tissue contusion, but there weren’t any fractures.
Taylor frowned as his breath became short. “I think we should have stayed one more day.”
Namir shook his head. “Saturday to Wednesday was just fine.”
“Do you want a pain pill?”
“No, babe, I don’t like pills.”
Namir looked at her from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t mean to slip with the pet name, but she simply blushed lightly and ignored it. He had wanted to ask her about what he thought he heard when he was in the hospital, and decided to ask her as soon as they made it to his bedroom.
Taylor helped him ease down onto the bed and raced out of the room. She returned with all four of her pink covered pillows.
“I can’t take all of your pillows, what will you use?”
“I plan on staying in here until you’re fully well.”
Namir looked at her blankly. “You are?”
“Yes, but don’t look so innocent. I’ll be sleeping on a foam mattress thingy I have in the pool house. I’m not that kind of woman.”
“I know you’re not.” Namir said quietly as she arranged pillows at the head of the bed.
“Ok. Let’s see if we can get you comfortable.” Taylor lifted from under his arm and around his waist, just like the nurse showed her. Namir laid back against the pillows and smiled.
“This is good, Taylor.”
“I still might see if Jason will go out and get you one of those curved pillows that look like the back of a chair.”
“It’s fine.” He reached for her, then patted the side of the bed. “I want to talk to you.”
Taylor sat down slowly, feeling her own aches and pains from sleeping at the hospital. “What?”
“When I was first at the hospital, were you whispering to me?”
Taylor looked like a deer in the headlights. “Maybe. I mean I said a lot to you.”
“Did you whisper anything important to me?”
Taylor’s face went scarlet.
“Come here.” He said gently and tugged on her hand.
Taylor moved closer to him, feeling her heart pick up speed. Her mind was racing. What if he didn’t want her to feel that way?
Namir pulled her face close to his and kissed her gently. “I heard you say you loved me.”
“Yes…I said that.”
“I was trying to say the same thing to you.” Namir’s eyes searched hers.
“You were?”
“Yes.” He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “I know this seems fast.”
“I don’t care.” Her gray eyes pooled with tears. “I thought you were going to die.” She ended at a whisper.
“Believe me when I tell you this, Taylor; it would take a lot to kill me.” His face was serious, but she laughed.
“You say the strangest things!”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, at the hospital you were asking if something was wrong. You said you could smell it.” She wrinkled her nose at him, as if she were trying to smell something like fear.
“I did? Oh, well, I’m sure it…” He didn’t want to lie to her, but he also didn’t want to explain how he could smell an emotion like fear. “I’m sure it was nothing.”
Taylor didn’t believe him, but didn’t have time to argue. Someone was pressing the doorbell.
Taylor went to the railing along the second floor and looked down as Greta opened the door to Harrison Badon. She descended the stairs slowly.
“Why are you here?”
“Hello, Taylor.” Harrison said, as he watched her walk down. “I went by the hospital and was told you all had left.”
Taylor crossed her arms. “So you arrive here unannounced?”
He motioned behind himself. “I would have stopped at the gate, but…well you’ve seen your gate.”
“I guess you would know all about that, right?” Her eyes narrowed.
Harrison’s brow furrowed. “What? If you’re insinuating…”
“Taylor?” Namir’s voice echoed down to her. She looked up and saw him limping down the steps towards her.
“Namir! Get back in bed!” She said, hurrying towards him.
“Who is that?” He asked gruffly.
“Hello!” Harrison said, and extended his hand. His smile split his face from ear to ear. “I’m Harrison Badon, Taylor’s half-brother.”
“Supposed half-brother.” Taylor corrected, as she placed her arm around Namir’s waist and helped him down the final few steps.
Namir took the man’s hand and squeezed. When he looked at the young man, he didn’t see a brown headed youth in a sports jacket and open collared shirt, he saw him for the trickster he really was.
“Fey.” Namir whispered before he could stop himself.
Greta turned her head sharply to Namir, then back to Harrison and squinted slightly.
“What did you say?” Taylor asked with a frown.
“Nothing…it’s nothing.” Namir was visibly shaken. “I’m just overly tired, I think.” He kept his eyes locked on Harrison’s, and saw surprise as the only registered emotion. He couldn’t sense nor smell anything else.
“I think this isn’t a good time to visit.” Greta said slowly. “Perhaps you could call in a few days and see if it’s a better time.”
“Sure.” Harrison replied, his eyes still on Namir. “I’ll do that.”
The three of them watched as the young man descended the front steps, looking over his shoulder once.
Greta eyed Namir warily. “Taylor, let’s get Namir back upstairs. You need a rest too, I think.” She said as Taylor’s mouth opened in large yawn.
“Only for a little while.”
Greta and Taylor walked with Namir back upstairs.
“Greta, can you ask Jason to get the sponge mattress from the pool house? I want to sleep on Namir’s floor until he’s well.”
Greta looked at her softly. “Of course, but for now, you sleep in your room.” She held up a hand under Taylor’s protests. “I’ll watch over him.”
Taylor went into Namir’s room and took one of her pillows off of the bed. She practically drug it out of the room behind her in her fatigue. Greta helped Namir ease onto the bed.
“She’s so tired.” He said.
“Yes. She’s been very worried about you.” Greta moved some pillows around, and handed him the remote to the TV, but she didn’t leave. Instead she closed his door gently and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Tell me why you said that word a few minutes ago.”
Namir decided immediately that he would attempt to lie. “I’m not sure what I said.” He moved his hand around his head. “You know, I’m a little jacked up right now.”
Greta clucked her tongue.
“No really, I am.”
“Do you know my last name, Namir?”
He thought for a moment. “Butler.”
“Do you know the origins of a name like that?”
He thought again. “English?”
Greta shook her head and crossed one blue pants leg over the other. “Not originally. Norman and Irish actually. My parents were born in Ireland, but one set of Grandparents were German.”
Namir had no idea where she was going with the conversation. “That’s very…interesting, Greta.”
“I tell you this because there are many folk tales and superstitions still in those countries. Especially among the rural in Ireland.” She laughed lightly. “Or at least there were when I was a child.”
“Ok.” Namir was becoming uncomfortable.
“One such superstitious belief is that of the wee folk.” When Namir didn’t respond she continued. “Fairies, or as some like to call them, and what most believe is their true name: the Fey.”
Namir swallowed and attempted a smile. “Now, Greta, that’s just fairytales.”
“Is it?” She asked with a tilt of her head. “Why did you whisper that to Harrison?” Greta looked at him closely. “Namir?”
Namir needed a friend. He needed an ally that he could trust. He just didn’t know yet, as fond as he was becoming of her, if Greta was it.
Greta patted him on the side of the leg. “It’s alright.” She stood. “You’ll tell me when you’re ready.” She turned at the door and looked at him kindly. “You know every culture has similar beliefs about supernatural creatures. Every culture has fairies, vampires, and of course humans that turn into wolves.” She opened the door and smiled. “Maybe one day you can explain how you were so certain that Lancelot was part wolf. Hmm?”
Namir looked at the remote and picked it up to point it at the TV. He needed to drown out Greta’s voice. He needed something mindless to take his mind off of all of the…weirdness that was currently plaguing him. It was early in the afternoon, and all that was on regular channels was soaps, he did eventually find the HBO channels and fell blissfully into a movie about strange stuff happening in a couple’s new house. Eventually he drifted into sleep.
“Namir?” His father’s voice was raspy and weak. “Can you hear me?”
“Of course, Dad.”
“You have to take care of your mother. Don’t let her go back to Israel. It’s not safe there.” He laughed, which turned into a coughing fit. When he was finished, Namir helped him drink a few sips from a glass of water. His father’s once clear eyes were watery and tired. Even as quickly as Werewolves could heal, his superhuman body was no match for the aggressive cancer. He smiled lovingly at Namir. “She named you Namir because she didn’t like the Hebrew name for wolf. She said ‘leopard’ would have to be close enough.” He leaned his head closer to Namir. “I think she secretly wished you would have shifted into a large cat.” His eyes became far away. “Oh how she loves cats.”
Namir awoke with a start, confused at the waning light in his room. Taylor was stretched out beside him, with a journal open on her stomach, the pen still lightly clasped in her hand.
Namir pulled the book free and glanced at the words s
he had been writing. It looked like a story of some kind. Like a fairy tale. He smiled and closed the book, not wanting to intrude further on her privacy. He slid the pen from her fingers and set both on the bedside table.
Namir watching her sleeping and wondered what it would be like to wake up beside her every morning.
Whoa! Where did that come from?
Namir watched her lips move slightly and her brow pucker. He turned his head and saw that she had left the door open. He marveled at how someone who was so worldly was also so proper in her moral standard. He had respect for that.
Greta’s head appeared in the doorway. She shook her head slightly. “She only lasted an hour in her room, before I found her curled up beside you writing.”
“Is she writing a story?”
“I hope so.” Greta winked. “I made some beef stew. Would you like for me to bring it up?”
“No, I can come down. I need to stretch.”
“Alright.” She held up a warning finger. “But if you can’t do it, then I will bring it up here.”
Taylor stirred and opened her eyes. “Bring what where?”
“We’re discussing dinner. She made beef stew”
“I fixed you a nice salad.”
Taylor sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Thanks, Greta, but I think I’ll have some stew too.”
Namir raised his eyebrows at her.
“What?” She said sliding off the bed. “I’m hungry! I’ve been hungry for years!”
Greta and Namir watched with amusement as Taylor ate her salad and then dug into the beef stew like she was starving.
“Mmm, this is so good, Greta!”
Greta shook her spoon at her. “You should have been eating like this all along.”
“I’ve made a decision.” Taylor declared. “I’m not going to model anymore.”
Namir and Greta stared at her.
“What?” Taylor asked dejectedly. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“What do you want to do?” Greta asked.
“Well, I have to do this stupid movie, and I might like acting and want to do more of it, but I also like to sing.”
“You do have a beautiful voice.” Namir smiled.
“Plus, thanks to Greta, I’ve discovered that I like to write.”
BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) Page 45
