MILITARY ROMANCE: The War Within Himself (Alpha Bad Boy Marine Army Seal) (Contemporary Military Suspense & Thriller Romance)

by Claire Branson

  "I'm sorry. That's my mom. I have to go."

  "Wait. Jen—"

  But she was already up from the swing and running across the yard, her ponytail swinging.

  Erin never had found out what Jenna was going to say. She hadn't come back to school after that. But she'd turned the words over and over in her mind, trying to see the conclusion they came to, wondering what they could mean that wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility. It always came back to one idea, though. An idea that couldn't possibly be right.

  It was a strange thing to be thinking about, that day in her backyard, as Erin went about her rounds. She hadn't thought of Jenna in a long time. But for some reason the memory was teasing at her, pricking her thoughts. She shrugged and continued on to the next patient.

  -------

  When Erin returned, the recent John Doe arrival was awake, sitting slightly up in bed. She was on her way out for the night, but she’d wanted to check in on him and see how he was doing. He looked groggy, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on her. When they did, he frowned.

  "What happened?"

  "A couple of bikers called in a finding of an unconscious man on the side of the rode. You're in the hospital."

  His expression shifted from confusion to alarm.

  "The hospital?"

  Erin’s eyebrows lifted. "Yes."

  He moved to rise from the bed, and she hurried across the room to stand over it.

  "You shouldn't get up yet," she chided. "You have broken ribs, and there were some pretty bad lacerations on your torso."

  The expression on his face said he'd discovered the broken ribs when he moved, but he shook his head.

  "I really can't be here."

  "You want to explain just what you mean by that?" she asked.

  The John Doe took a sharp breath, like he was trying not to say something angry.

  "I'm checking myself out," he said, voice even.

  She couldn't stop him. It wasn't as though he was dying in the bed. But when he stood, she saw him sway, clutch at the railing of the bed for support. For all his size, he looked almost fragile in the paper hospital gown, with his hair ruffled and his face sheened with sweat. The faint flush in his cheeks concerned her.

  "I really can't advise that," Erin said firmly. "You're not well. You look like you have a fever, and you're only going to make yourself worse if you go running off right now."

  "Where are my clothes?"

  Erin huffed, but he didn't seem to hear it. She turned and pulled his bagged effects from the cabinet next to the bed. His shirt, of course, was gone. They’d cut it off of him to check his injuries. There had been a wallet in his pocket, but no ID. No credit cards. She handed the bag to him.

  He took it and glanced through it, making sure everything was there.

  “I’ll say it one more time,” Erin said, more gently than she had spoken before. “Checking yourself out will be against the advice of the hospital staff, and you should reconsider staying.”

  He pulled on his clothes under the paper gown, grimacing as the movement pulled at the sutured lacerations and jostled the broken ribs. Erin gave him a look that was definitely of the ‘I told you so’ sort.

  “I can’t stay,” he said, and his expression was almost apologetic.

  “Care to explain to why?”

  “That’s not really something I’m at liberty to share.”

  Erin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You have boot marks on your ribs and claw marks on your chest and back. They're a little contradictory. If I guessed your reluctance to stay has something to do with that, would I be right?"

  He stopped fastening his jeans under the paper gown and looked up at her. His head was tipped slightly to the side, his expression searching.

  "I'm more open-minded than some, I think," Erin said, hoping to encourage him to speak.

  "And what do you think would cause my injuries?"

  Erin took a deep breath. She wasn't going to say it. No matter what she had wondered since Jenna had disappeared that day in high school, she wasn't going to admit it out loud. Certainly not to a stranger who was her patient. Or not her patient, for much longer. She shook her head. She shouldn't have pushed it.

  "You think you know, but you're too afraid to say the words," he said, pulling the hospital gown up over his head and dropping it on the rumpled bed. Even with the bandages on, she could see the cut of his muscles. He was in good shape. He would heal quickly. She supposed that was something to be happy about if he was checking himself out of the hospital's care. But he still looked ill and hurt, and she didn't think it was a good idea.

  "Tell me what happened," she said.

  He shook his head. "I can't. If you don't know it, then I can't say it. And I have to go. I don't have time to stand here arguing with you. Sorry."

  He stepped past her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers. His skin was very warm. Too warm. Erin turned and followed him from the room.

  "You have a fever," she said as he walked ahead of her, straining her legs a little to keep up. She wasn't a short woman, but he was well above average height, and he moved with long, easy strides, even with his injuries. She was forced into a near jog to walk alongside him.

  "I have a fever," he agreed. "It won't kill me."

  She let out her breath through her nose, and then considered the fact that he was absolutely infuriating. She didn't have to follow him around, or try to make him see sense. If he wanted to check himself out and drag himself home to suffer alone, that was really his problem. Erin was off duty. She was supposed to be home watching TV and eating takeout, not chasing a John Doe around the hospital trying to make him stay in bed.

  "Your choice, I guess," she said.

  Erin turned and walked in the opposite direction. It wasn't her responsibility. It wasn't her problem to take care of. She told herself that over and over as she walked out to her car and slid into the driver's seat, then turned the key. She sighed. He was clearly in pain, and clearly afraid of staying in the hospital. Her memory and his injuries kept sliding to the forefront, trying to tell her something she was refusing to acknowledge. It was silly. It was absolutely fantastical, and she was a grown woman. She should not be entertaining children's fancies.

  But he was injured.

  Slowly, Erin turned her car back toward the hospital and drove around toward the main door. As she pulled around the corner, he was walking out. She saw him sway, saw him catch himself and stubbornly continue on, though his body language and gait said that he was in pain. Stubborn. Bull-headed. She didn't even know his name. She rolled to a stop and hit the button for the window.

  "Can I give you a ride somewhere, at least?"

  He looked at her, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple.

  "Get in the car. I'm on my way out of here anyway."

  Another moment of hesitation before he carefully opened the door and settled into the passenger seat, relaxing back against the leather cooled by the air-conditioning.

  "I just need the nearest cheap hotel," he said. "And I'll pay you back for the gas."

  Erin frowned at him in the rearview.

  "Don't even think about it. And I am not dropping you off in one of those dirt-covered, roach-infested places down on the strip. I won't be responsible for your death of some horrible infection. I took an oath."

  He huffed a laugh, then winced when it jostled his ribs.

  "You're really something else. Has anyone ever told you that?"

  "I'm an ER nurse," Erin answered, voice flat. "Of course I'm something else."

  She glanced at him as she pulled out onto the street.

  "You haven't told me your name," she said.

  "No."

  "I'm doing you a pretty big favor. You should probably tell me your name in return."

  Another quiet, careful laugh.

  "Is that so?"

  "It is."

  "Fine." He looked over at her, and though her own gaze was on the road, she
could feel his eyes on her face. "It's Devlin."

  "Devlin." She wasn't entirely sure that was his real name. "Nice to meet you. I'm Erin. Erin Rivers."

  The blatant hint didn't draw anything from him, and she gave up on it for the moment.

  "So,” she asked again instead. "Why did you end up bleeding on the side of a road?"

  He shook his head. "I could tell you, but I won't."

  "That isn't very nice." There were restaurants coming up along the side of the road. "Are you hungry?"

  Devlin looked out the window at the fast food places sliding by, and he nodded.

  "Famished, actually. But you don't have to pay for me. I've got cash."

  "We'll stop, at least. How does Chinese sound?"

  When he nodded, she pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall where her favorite Chinese restaurant sat. But he didn’t come in with her. She looked over at him, sitting shirtless in the passenger seat, and ordered him to stay in the car.

  "To go," she told the man behind the counter as she gave her order.

  "So," she said, when she was back in the car, waiting for their food to be brought out. "I'm going to do something really stupid."

  He raised an eyebrow at her. "And what is that?"

  "I'm going to ask you to come home with me for tonight. I have a couch that's pretty comfortable, and you can sleep there where it's clean, and you won't get something that's going to make you sicker than you already are. I can take a look at your injuries in the morning, and we'll decide where to go from there."

  Both eyebrows snapped upward.

  "Why would you do something like that?"

  "Because I'm a nurse and I took an oath to care for people. You say you can't stay in the hospital, but you're not well enough to go running around on your own, and you're certainly not well enough to be shacked up in some roach motel with healing lacerations."

  "And what if I'm dangerous?"

  Erin lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

  "I'll take the chance. Besides..." She met his eyes. "You try anything and I'll put a bullet through you. And that's not a joke."

  His eyes widened a little.

  "No," he said. "It doesn't sound like one. But I'm not going to try anything. I can promise you that."

  He looked over at her, and his expression was grave.

  "It would be a poor thank you for your help if I hurt you. But it would also be a poor thank you if I let someone else hurt you, and that's why I can't go with you. It's too dangerous."

  "Too dangerous?"

  "There's more to the story than you know, and I'm not going to turn your house into a target."

  The waiter knocked on the door of the car, and Erin rolled down the window to take the bag of food from him with a thanks and a tip. She saw him glance curiously at the shirtless, bandaged man in her passenger seat, but he didn't ask any questions, just turned and went back inside.

  "I don't really care about too dangerous," Erin said, handing the bag over to Devlin. "And I'm not going to take no for answer. Where would you go? If you're worried about other people getting in the way of something you've got going on, going to a hotel is going to put people in danger too."

  He looked down at the food and didn't speak for a moment. She knew he was considering what she'd had to say.

  "I suppose you're right. Just drop me off on the edge of town, then." He sounded a little breathless, and Erin looked over at him as she started the car, concerned by the new color in his cheeks. It wasn't a healthy color. Under the tan and the flush his skin had a greenish tint, and the hectic spots of pink across his cheekbones concerned her.

  "Are you out of your mind?"

  He looked startled, but before he could answer he slumped against the seat, eyes rolling back in his head. Erin swore. Loudly. Well, if he was going to pass out, she wasn't going to dump him on the side of the road. She took the turn toward her apartment.

  Getting him inside was not easy. The man was heavy. Erin had some experience hauling patients around, but he was nearly twice her size. At least she didn't have to cart him up stairs. She woke him enough to get him on his feet – glad he could wake at all – then half-carried half-supported him into the lobby and then the elevator. He leaned against the wall as it went up, and she staggered them both out into the hall and up to her door.

  Once in the apartment, she dropped him onto the couch and stood over him, panting a little. The sudden loss of consciousness worried her. He wasn't losing any blood, and he shouldn't be getting worse, but he was. His forehead was far too hot. He looked up at her through glazed, bleary eyes.

  "Tell me what's going on," Erin demanded as she pulled a cloth from the cabinet and wet it with cold water, laying it over his forehead. "This isn't the kind of reaction you should be having at this point. Your injuries are sutured and bandaged." She lifted the gauze to check, then turned him onto his side to check his back. "And none of them have broken open again."

  "Dirty," he said, voice rough in his throat, and Erin shook her head.

  That shouldn't even be a problem. They’d cleaned and disinfected the lacerations before they were sutured.

  "We took care of that," she said.

  He shook his head back at her. Strands of his hair were clinging to his damp forehead.

  "There is a... It's because of the claws."

  Claws. And boot prints.

  "We knew it was probably claw marks. That's why we cleaned them so thoroughly.”

  She turned the cloth over so that the cooler side rested against his skin, and he sighed softly.

  It made absolutely no sense. There was sign of infection though, she decided when she looked down at the wounds again. The cuts were warm to the touch, looking inflamed around their edges. It was exactly what neither of them needed. At least she had a weekend off to deal with it.

  With a sigh of her own, Erin set to work disinfecting the lacerations once more.

  Chapter Three

  A day and a half into it, Devlin was driving her completely insane

  Trying to keep the man in bed, despite his obvious pain and almost debilitating injuries, was nearly impossible. The infection had mostly healed. The lacerations were no longer red and hot around their edges, though they were just beginning to scab over, and the bruises on his ribs were fading into yellow green smudges that didn't hold the crisp outlines of boot prints. Erin was going to have to let him go soon.

  "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said as she took a seat at the end of the couch next to his feet, a bowl of ice cream in one hand. He was eating his own with some alacrity, more interested in the ice cream than he'd been in listening to her otherwise.

  "As am I," he answered, pausing to swallow a mouthful of ice cream before he spoke. "I can get out of your hair tonight."

  Erin sighed.

  "If you insist," she said. "I would like you to stay for one more night, considering your injuries, but I'm not going to make you."

  "You couldn't make me if you tried."

  She looked over at him. "Couldn't I?"

  His expression went a little uncertain, and Erin laughed as she went back to the frozen treat sitting in front of her.

  "Thank you," Devlin said after a moment. "For helping me. It was kind of you to give up your days off to nurse someone sick.”

  Erin lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I don't mind. You needed help."

  "All the same," Devin said. "It was a selfless act, and I appreciate it."

  She hadn't really minded having him around all that much, she admitted to herself. Despite his annoying habit of constantly trying to escape the couch, he was funny, and a good conversational companion. And, if she was being honest, it was nice to have someone around the house. She hadn't shared her space with anyone in a long time.

  "If you really appreciate it, you could do me a favor and hand me the remote."

  He laughed as he handed it over, and she flicked on the TV. They settled into watch whatever movie was showing on Fox for the night. It
turned out to be something decent, lots of explosions. It seemed to hold Devlin's interest, at least.

  "I should be going," he said when the movie was over.

  She'd picked up a shirt for him, so at least he had that.

  "Where will you go?"

  He turned to smile at her.

  "Home, actually. It's far enough away that I'm glad you helped me out. I don't know that I could have made it in the state I'm in. But I'd like to get back there, and I feel guilty about taking up your couch and your time."

  "I don't mind," she said again. "Honestly. Don't worry about it."

  "I’ll find a way to thank you,” he said, rising from the couch and slipping his wallet into his back pocket. "For real."

  Erin nodded. Though she wasn't sure she expected him to follow through with the promise, and she got up to take the ice cream bowls into the kitchen.

  That was when the door smashed open, crashing against the wall. She spun to stare as three men, all of them easily as big as Devlin, stalked into the room.

  "There you are," the tallest of them said, a smile curving his mouth. "I was beginning to worry you'd gotten away from us."

  Devlin immediately put himself between Erin and the men entering, settling into a fighting crouch despite his injures. He took a step back and so did she, around the edge of the couch and toward the hall that led back to her bedroom, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She tasted metallic fear at the back of her tongue, swallowed it down and clenched her teeth. If these assholes thought they could just march in and attack her patient on her watch, they had another thing coming. It wasn't a long hall. She could make it down the length of it in a few seconds if Devlin could hold them off.

  "And who is this?" one of the others inquired. "Looks like you found a nice way to pass the time."

  "It was nothing like that, Riff," Devlin answered. "Why don't you three get lost?"

  "Come on, Devlin. You know why we're here."

  Devlin made a sound like a growl, low in the back of his throat. Erin took another step back, then a third. They didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her.

  "We can take this outside," Devlin said. "She's not involved."