Back Off: Reed Security: Book One

by Robin Leaf

  My feet move on their own in the direction of the team lot. “I’m currently out of town. I will be at least a few hours before I can be there.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll tell everyone you’re coming.”

  I end the call, immediately dialing Fionn while I fish out the keys to the rental.

  “Yes, we –”

  “Jason had a heart attack,” I interrupt, “so I’m on my way to the airport.”

  “Is he…”

  “No,” I grunt.

  “Good,” he sighs.

  “But his heart rate is too fast, which is dangerous for him.”

  “Go take care of Jason. We’ll get this under control here.”

  Fionn ends the call before I can ask what they need to control.

  I call Charlene.

  “Hey, bro,” she answers.

  “Charlene, I need you to get online and book me the next flight out of Houston for San Francisco.”

  “Why are you in Houston?”

  I grunt. “I was at Ignacio’s last concert, but I really –”

  “Oh? Any particular reason you just had to go to that concert?” she coos.

  “Look,” I say, pulling out of the parking lot onto one of the confusing streets of downtown Houston. “Jason had a heart attack. I’m about twenty minutes away from Hobby, and I need to get to him ASAP. Please just hang up and find me a flight. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Oh, shit,” she says. “On it.”

  Within five minutes she calls me back with my flight info. I’ll be cutting it close.

  “In the meantime, Noah, do you want me to go up to the hospital until you get there? That way, Jason won’t be alone.”

  Stopping for a red light, I bang the steering wheel. “I can’t ask you do to that, especially since they may not let you in.”

  “You didn’t ask, Noah,” she snaps. “I offered.” Softening her voice, she adds, “Let me do this for you.”

  I sigh and run my hand over my head. “Yeah, alright. Just don’t wear those pants. They’re enough to cause him to laugh himself into another heart attack.”

  ***

  Charlene is long gone by the time I arrive at the hospital. Jason sent her away when they moved him to C-ICU knowing it would be past visiting hours once they got him settled in. As it stands now, they probably won’t let me see him since it’s the middle of the night.

  I probably should have gone home first to get a little sleep, but I need to see that he’s okay before I can rest. That means I need to bust out the charm in order to get into his room.

  I walk up to the nurses’ station to see only one grandmotherly type sitting there. She looks like one of those kick-ass grandmas, one who might have ridden with bikers back in her youth but now spends her weekends growing killer tomatoes and making knitted cozies for her shotgun collection.

  “Hello,” I say, startling her. She clasps her chest and tries to slow her breathing. “I’m so sorry I surprised you, but my partner, Jason Heywood, was transferred here earlier, and since I was out of town when he had his heart attack, I caught a flight immediately and came straight here.” Her face softens slightly, so I decide to go in for the kill. Putting a little pout into my delivery, I ask sweetly, “Please, may I possibly peek in on him? I just need to see him with my own eyes to make sure he’s okay before I go home to get some rest.”

  “Are you Mr. Reed?”

  I smile. “Why yes, I am.”

  “Honey, you didn’t need to go through all that pretending-you’re-gay, trying-to-charm-my-pants-off business,” she drawls. “Although it was entertaining to watch, Mr. Heywood asked that you be let in when you got here. And since he contributes to the cardiac care unit, he pretty much gets what he wants. Of course, if he wasn’t recovering quite nicely, there’s no way I’d let you in, but since he seems to be out of the woods, I’ll okay his request.” She grabs a chart and comes around the desk. “Lying to me,” she says under her breath chuckling. “You better not try to pull that again.”

  I was right. She kicks ass.

  I follow her to a sliding glass door, which she opens. “He is my business partner. But he’s like a brother to me.”

  “Good, because if both of you were gay,” she turns to me, winking, “it would be a shame for women everywhere.”

  Pulling back a curtain, she reveals a pasty-looking Jase.

  “Don’t let him fool you, Carolyn,” Jason says, keeping his eyes closed. “He’s been after this,” he weakly waves down his body, “for years.”

  She chuckles. “You’re awfully cheeky for the middle of the night, Mr. Heywood.”

  Carolyn moves around him taking his vitals quickly. When she’s done, she pats his leg.

  “Do you need anything, Jason?”

  “No, I think I’m okay,” he says quietly.

  “Mr. Reed, you may stay for only ten minutes, then I’m kicking you out. Not for him but for you.” She points at me. “You look exhausted, and if you’re going to be here for your friend, you need to take care of you first.”

  I smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looks between the two of us. “Damn, you boys are handsome,” she grumbles before exiting the room.

  I place my hands on the side rail of his bed and assess him with my eyes. Other than pale, he really doesn’t look that bad, so I use the rail to ease into the chair right next to the bed.

  He grimaces, runs his hands down his face, and sighs.

  “I told them not to call you.”

  “Yeah, well,” I grunt. “You got me anyway.”

  He takes another deep breath and blows it out slowly. “I fucked up, Noah.”

  My hands tighten on the rail so they don’t throttle him. I’m hyper-aware that I might be a little irritable since the last three weeks have been a minor shit storm with all that has happened, especially the sexual frustration of finally getting the woman I so desperately desire in my arms for once, so close to getting her underneath me… but I decide to wait for his explanation before I give in to my cranky rage.

  “You obviously didn’t tell her,” I say as gently as I can. “Otherwise, she’d be here.”

  “No,” he says, looking away. “I never got the chance.” Sighing once again, he looks back my direction quickly before staring down at his hands. “I hired a woman to make a replica of my penis so Darla could have it until she can get the real thing, but she showed up early and caught me with the woman, who was complimenting my cock, and she didn’t let me explain. She just reacted… badly.”

  “Oh,” is all I can say.

  I mean one half of me wants to bust out laughing. The man couldn’t have worse luck when it comes to timing, and the idea of him going through the motions of casting his pecker so that the woman he loves can have a copy? Fucking priceless.

  But the other half, the one that knows if he’d just have listened to me, he would be in the loving arms of the woman he loves…

  On second thought, that half finds this pretty funny, too, but it could be the exhaustion causing that side to agree with the first.

  Before I can control it, I’m bending over in the chair, holding my sides from my silent laughter, trying to hide it from Jason.

  “Go ahead. I know you want to tell me ‘I told you so.’”

  I take a deep breath and wipe my face. “Nope,” I breath out, clearing my throat to keep my voice from giving me away. “I’m not going to make this worse by telling you what you clearly already know.”

  “That was a kind of back-handed way of saying the same thing, Noah.”

  He’s right, but there’s no ‘kind of’ about it.

  Finally getting myself under complete control, I lift my head to meet his eyes.

  “Do you want me to –”

  “No,” he shakes his head. “No, I need to fix this.” His lips turn up at the corners. “I’m really sorry I ruined your weekend.”

  “Yeah, you kinda suck for that.”

  He chuckles. “I really do.”

  “I�
��m just glad it wasn’t more serious,” I say honestly, patting his shoulder. “I really don’t like the thought of losing you, Jase.”

  “The good news is I probably qualify for that Swiss clinic now.”

  Well now, that is good news. “I’ll call them tomorrow to see if we can get another assessment, but for now, I better get out of here. I’m too tired to take on Carolyn. I’m afraid she’d win tonight.”

  He smiles. “C’mon. Don’t lie. She’d win even if you were at your best.”

  I pat his knee. “Night, Jason. Sleep.”

  I leave and head for my car. Charlene offered for me to stay there tonight.

  I have to wait until tomorrow to find a way to make things right with Cristiana. I know she’ll understand, so I want to ask her out on our first date when she returns. I’m thinking Wednesday night for our first date.

  Yeah, I can wait three days.

  I just hope she can.

  Twenty Five

  Cristiana

  “But you can’t tell me what’s wrong with him?” I ask the nurse.

  Joe and a couple of the other bodyguards were able to discreetly sneak a doctor into the green room to sedate Ignacio so they could bring him to the ER after the dancers and crew left. Fionn and I followed.

  She gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Miss Calvillo. I understand your concern, but the bottom line is you’re not family.” She lowers her voice. “His brother is insisting.”

  “Ignacio hates his brother, and you’re going to let him decide his medical care?”

  She bites her lips between her teeth. “In the event a patient is unable to make decisions for himself, we must refer to family.”

  I huff. “What if I tell you I am his fiancée?”

  Her eyes widen, and I realize my mistake right then. First of all, it’s a lie, and secondly, she already mentioned that she is a big fan. If she reveals what I just said to anyone, it could bite us all in the ass.

  “Are you?” she asks, practically bouncing on her toes thinking she knows something the rest of the world doesn’t.

  I shake my head quickly. “No.” Her excitement visibly deflates as my eyes fill with tears. “I’m just really worried about him.”

  Fionn comes to my aid, placing his arm around me. “Cristiana, there’s nothing we can do here. Let me take ye to the hotel. We’ll come back in the morning.”

  “You won’t be welcome then, either,” a deep voice from behind me growls.

  Fionn attempts to tighten his grip on me, but I shake out of his hold and turn to see who’s here.

  A man with his arms crossed over his barrel chest stands at the doorway. He looks enough like Ignacio to assume he is the brother in question.

  I clear my throat. “How is he?” I ask, approaching the man.

  He throws back his head, tilting his chin toward me. “I’m not telling you shit. You people made him crazy. It’s time for his family to take care of him.”

  “You?” I scoff. “Take care of him? Right. Ignacio told me you just want his money.”

  He snarls, baring his teeth at me. “He was raised to believe that we take care of our own. No little chica estúpita is gonna to ruin that.”

  I ball my fists, ready to fly at his face, but Fionn catches me around the waist before I can make contact. He turns me around and carries me out of the room.

  “Don’t come back, puta loca,” the man shouts at Fionn’s back.

  Fionn sets me down and leads me by the elbow to the front of the hospital. I’m still fuming when I see Joe.

  “I see you’ve met Guillermo,” he says, smirking, leading me out to the waiting car. Fionn helps me in and gets into the passenger seat.

  My legs won’t stop moving. I’m still so angry about that pinche cabrón. At least I’m no longer crying. My mind races with all the stuff that happened in the last fourteen hours, but it skids to a stop when I land on Noah.

  Jesus, I forgot about him. I should be waking up next to him, but instead, I’m dealing with this fucking nightmare.

  Where the hell did he go? I’m afraid to ask; he probably thinks I lied about being with Ignacio. I’m sure he saw that kiss, heard Nacho tell me he loved me, and left. Santa mierda. I’ve probably lost him forever now. My eyes begin to sting again, and this time, I allow them to spill over. Sometimes even a tough girl just needs a good cry.

  “Cristiana,” Joe calls from the driver’s seat. I find his eyes in the rear view. “I talked to the ER doctor. He said if it wasn’t drugs, that this could be possible psychosis.”

  I have to work hard to pull myself out of thoughts of what never was and reengage my brain.

  Did he say psychosis? What the hell?

  His hands drum on the steering wheel. “Think. Has he ever said anything to you about being depressed or anything like that?”

  “No,” I answer, debating whether or not I should tell them the whole truth about our arrangement.

  “What about his family? Has he mentioned that anyone had a mental illness?”

  Mental illness? I thought he was just suffering from exhaustion.

  I search my brain for every conversation we had about Ignacio’s family and settle on a few facts that may help.

  “Maybe. He said his mother was unpredictable and sometimes abusive when he was growing up.”

  “His mother wasn’t invited to the concert like his brother was?”

  I shake my head. “He told me she died when he was a teenager.”

  He nods. “Did he say how she died?”

  “No, but I assumed it was from cancer or some long-term illness. He said that she spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital.”

  His eyes move back to the road, but I can tell his brain is working on a theory.

  I scoot forward and rest my elbows on the back of both of their seats. “Joe, what are you thinking?”

  He looks both ways before turning into the hotel’s underground parking lot. “I’m wondering if his addiction is a symptom or a form of self-medication…” He pauses to take a deep breath. “… or if he’s even an addict at all.”

  ***

  For three days, I am denied access to Ignacio. In fact, no one has access. Hell, we can’t even be sure he’s still in the hospital. There’s no word on his condition. Luckily, the press hasn’t gotten wind of his whereabouts. We haven’t even seen Guillermo lurking around. So after I tell Joe the same version of the truth that I told Fionn about my arrangement with Ignacio, Joe said he’d stay, suggesting that Fionn and I should fly home.

  I really didn’t like leaving. I can’t help feeling like I’m abandoning a friend in need, but Joe is right. There’s nothing I can do in Houston, and I can feel just as helpless from the comfort of my home.

  We landed at LAX this morning. At my insistence, Fionn brought me to Ignacio’s place to drop off all Ignacio’s luggage and to get everything I left here from the nights I slept over. I called the staff to make sure I didn’t surprise them and to find out if Ignacio somehow made his way home. He hasn’t.

  I stand in the guest room, gathering articles of clothing and other things I’d brought here, when I get an idea. I head straight for Ignacio’s bathroom to look in his medicine cabinet. Finding three bottles that are about half full and one that is almost empty, I go to his bedside table and grab his song-writing notebook and a pencil. The names of the meds are ones I’ve never heard of, but I’m careful spelling them so I can look them up. There’s no chance of me even pronouncing them much less knowing what they are used to treat.

  Fionn is in the living room watching TV surrounded by Esbi and Gordo.

  “It seems a shame to leave them here,” he says, giving a final pat to both dogs.

  “I agree, but I don’t want to make things worse by being accused of dognapping.” I set down my stuff and hand him the notebook. “Do you know what these drugs are used for?”

  Squinting, he looks over the list and shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure Lorazepam is a sleep aid, but I’ve nev
er heard of the others. Why?”

  “They’re all in Ignacio’s medicine cabinet, prescribed to him.”

  Five minutes later, we find ourselves hovering over Ignacio’s computer, looking up the meds one by one.

  “‘Carbamazepine is an anti-seizure medicine,’” he reads over my shoulder. “Did he tell you he has seizures?”

  “No,” I say absently, reading further down the list. “But side effects include disorientation and poor coordination, which might be the reason Ignacio stopped taking them.”

  “Could be,” he muses.

  I look up the next medicine, and we both read silently. Oxazepam is used for treating acute alcohol withdrawal and as a sleep aid for anxiety.

  “He did say he was in recovery,” Fionn reasons, “so maybe a doctor prescribed these to help.”

  “Maybe,” I say skeptically. I just have a sinking feeling it’s something else.

  I type the next medicine in to the search bar, but the computer takes its sweet time delivering results. So while I get up to pace, Fionn takes the chair.

  “Here it is. ‘Aripiprazole is an antipsychotic used to treat –”

  Fionn’s voice fades into the background. I don’t hear much past antipsychotic. I sit on the couch and place my head in my hands.

  “Fionn, look up medications for bipolar disorder and see if these four are used to treat it.”

  I hear the clicking of the keyboard and silence as he waits for the response.

  “Bingo, Crissy. All four are on the list.”

  I swallow. “Does it say what will happen if a person stops taking any of the meds, especially the antipsychotic one?”

  I hear more clicking and waiting.

  “Shit,” he says. “Condition will worsen if the medication is stopped abruptly.”

  I take a deep breath. “Look up symptoms of manic episodes.”

  I sit there and wait.

  “Wired, jumpy, agitation, increased energy, decreased need for sleep, exaggerated moods, increased drive to perform tasks, talkativeness… wow, he had all of these in the last few weeks, hasn’t he?”

  Yes, yes he has. And I was too distracted by my need for this tour to be over to pay attention to my friend. I lean back against the couch and cover my eyes.