by Haven Rose
“You got that?” I hear as I lay my head on his shoulder, knowing it’s aimed at Tristan, but with Dane’s hand rubbing my back, I’m lulled into a sense of peace and, before I know it, my eyes are closed and I’m dreaming of the future we’ll have together.
Chapter Six
Dane
July 6th…
“Hey,” Tristan says when I grab my ringing cell off the nightstand and answer it. Aurora and I were up late watching a couple movies, neither of us ready to go to bed yet. Then, once we did make it there, we couldn’t keep our hands, or mouths, off each other.
“What’s up?” I ask, my mind instantly waking, too many years as a cop to not have it automatically kick in with a call.
“Just heard from dispatch, there was another robbery fitting ours.” Okay, maybe this one will give us the facts we need to solve them, and the rule is to let an officer now if a crime occurs that may fit one of their cases. “There’s a witness.” Now he has my attention. “Matches what your girl said at the restaurant, down to the tattoo.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed and brushing Aurora’s hair from her face to give her a kiss.
“Where you goin’?” She asks, her husky voice tempting me to crawl back under the covers and pull her against me…for more than sleeping.
“Tristan called. We may have a lead on the guy,” I tell her, knowing she’ll understand who I mean. She sighs, her body melting into the mattress, the weight of the unknown seeping out of her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I inform her. With one last look, I leave her in our bed, wishing I was still in it with her.
Once at the station, I’m reading over the new information and comparing it with the others, while Tristan speaks to the witness, seeing if he’d be willing to work with a sketch artist. Getting his permission, he contacts Byron, the freelance artist we use as needed, and they agree to meet Tuesday, the earliest their schedules mesh. The guy’s usual shift is the evening and he works until early morning, but he’d switched with a co-worker at the last minute.
Having done all we can, and it not being our weekend to work nor be on call, Tristan and I stop and grab lunch. As we eat, my mind trying to piece everything together about this case and Aurora’s, I can’t help but come back to one thing over and over again. “Why the different quantities?” I ask Tristan, explaining myself at his confused expression.
“Could be anything, man. Who knows how someone capable of doing this thinks? Even when we catch him,” and I appreciate his confidence in that, “we may never know.”
“There’s a reason, I know it,” I murmur. Relegating it to the back of my brain, knowing if I try to focus on it, it’ll continue to elude me, we finish our meal then go our separate ways.
When I get home, the bag in my hand containing a turkey club for Aurora falls to the floor at the sight before me. “I, uh,” I start, voice cracking, “see you got my text.”
Hair curling over her shoulders, nothing else blocking her naked body from my eyes, she nods. “I thought I’d welcome you home in a memorable way,” she informs me, walking closer and rising on her tiptoes to brush a kiss on my cheek, her lips gliding to my ear where she tugs on my lobe with her teeth.
“You know what that does to me, Rory.”
“I do. And what are you going to do me?” She taunts, circling me, her hand caressing my back as if tracing the tattoos there. Which she probably is as she seems fascinated by my ink.
“Oh, baby. That’s not the question you should be asking,” I warn her.
“What should it be then?” She asks, the last word ending on a squeal as I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder and slap her bare ass, the sound music to my ears
“What aren’t I going to do to you would be more fitting.” I feel the shiver of anticipation that wracks her, even more so as I skim her ass to find her soft center, my finger sliding inside her tight hole. “Been thinking about this since my text, huh?” I ask upon finding her ready for me.
She moans my name, her hands bunching my shirt up until she can touch my back, her caress on my bare skin causing my zipper to dig into my cock, reminding me I forgot to put my boxer briefs on this morning.
Reaching our room, I set her on her feet, groaning as she pulls my shirt with her, throwing it to the floor once it clears my head. When she bends just enough to reach my chest, her tongue bathing one nipple then the other, I pray I survive this.
As she moves lower, her tongue licking a path to the part of me straining for her touch, she deftly unbuttons my jeans, then conquers the zipper, my cock eagerly falling from the opening due to the weight of arousal. It’s begging for her attention.
And fuck me, does she give it. A gentle breath over the tip. A swipe of her tongue around the head. A squeeze of her hand at the base as she lifts me the rest of the way out. But she doesn’t stop there. Aurora dips her head, taking me into her mouth, her grip tightening with a twist then letting me go as I slide inside, repeating the process when she moves so she almost loses me, before swallowing me in one motion. Holy hell, this is heaven. Yes, I know the irony of that statement, but I couldn’t care less as long as she keeps doing this.
When I feel her nails dig into my thighs, my jeans having fallen lower on their own from the strength of my thrusts as she worships my dick, the muscles in my throat tighten and I throw my head back as I spill into her. With a whimper she licks me clean, placing a kiss on the tip when she’s done, and I offer my hand to help her up.
I don’t know where I find the ability to do so, but when she stands, I back her toward the bed, then turn her so she’s horizontal in the middle.
“Trust me?” I ask her, needing to know she understands I’ll never do anything to hurt her.
“Of course,” she responds immediately, my heart stopping at her instant answer only to start once more, fuller, stronger, with her belief in me, in us.
“Close your eyes and keep them that way,” she does without hesitation, not even opening them when she feels cool metal surround her wrists, nor hears the snick of the lock as I attach her clasped hands to our headboard. What she does do is moan, reawakening my spent cock like she’s a snake charmer and it’s ready to do her bidding. Dropping a sweet kiss to her lips, I pull away when she tries to deepen it, teasing her, then work downward, spending time on each breast, though it’s never enough, before reaching her mound. “I am famished,” I warn her as I take a slow lick, each subsequent swipe faster than the previous. Only when she’s begging for me to make her come do I give her the pressure she needs to send her soaring over the edge. As she’s still twitching from the force of her orgasm, I slip inside her gently and make love to her, my hands grasping hers, our fingers entwined as we release together this time. “I love you, Aurora. I was put on this earth to do so until my last breath.”
“I love you, Dane, and I will until I take mine as well.”
Chapter Seven
Aurora
July 9th…
Work has been crazy today, a steady stream of patients almost non-stop. Thankfully, the majority are minor injuries, but there have been a few that were serious. I’ve worked through both fifteen-minute breaks and my lunch because we’re also short-staffed. Again.
I’ve only been able to send Dane a quick text here and there to let him know I’m okay. I do warn him I might have to stay a little longer though, my relief, Daphne, calling to say her car had a flat tire and AAA was on their way, but she might be about an hour late.
When she rushes in, fifty-five minutes after her shift, apologizing profusely, I tell her not to worry about it; we’ve all been there. She thanks me, saying next time we work together, which is fairly regularly, she’s covering my lunch. Knowing it’s pointless to tell her it’s unnecessary, I say it sounds good, then wish her a calm night. As I’m walking toward the entrance to wait for my ride, I hear her telling the night supervisor how strange it was, seeing as she’d just had new tires put on two days ago.
“Hey, Aurora,” Donald, the
evening security greets me.
“How’s it going, Donald?”
“Can’t complain,” he responds, adding, “not that it would change anything if I did.”
“True, but I’ve found venting to be therapeutic.” Realizing I’m being sincere, he takes me up on the offer of a friendly ear and tells me he’d been robbed recently, the asshole making off with his new TV and laptop. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope they catch him or her soon and are able to find your things. The important thing is you weren’t hurt.”
“I’d actually switched hours with the guy who works before me. He needed his afternoon free for some appointments. Stopped at the station today and meet with a sketch artist.” He stops, a smile crossing his face as he looks behind me, then says, “Actually, here’s one of the detectives I spoke with. Did you find him or my stuff?” He asks hopefully.
An arm goes around my shoulder, the familiar scent of Dane already reaching me so I wasn’t surprised by the weight of it. “Sorry, Mr. Leigh. I didn’t realize you worked in the same department as my Aurora.”
“Doesn’t that beat all?” Donald asks rhetorically. “It really is a small world. I’m usual starting as she’s leaving.” A few minutes of chatting later, Dane and I bid him good-bye then head home, stopping to hit a drive-thru on the way. Crossing the threshold, mail in my hands, I place it on the table while Dane pulls our food from the bags. My stomach growls, reminding me I ate on the fly, and only a muffin at that.
“I hope you’re able to help Donald,” I say between bites. “He’s a sweet man. Been at the hospital almost my whole life, from what I understand.”
Hearing what Donald had told me, Dane nods and tells me he’s hopeful. Being unable to talk about patients and knowing he can’t regarding cases aside from mine, I change the subject.
Putting our trash away and cleaning up after, we veg out on the couch to watch a marathon of a previous season of the Great British Bake Off. We freaking love this show, something we realized unexpectedly when he’d turned it there the day after he brought me home and I’d asked if we could watch. From then on, we’d binged it whenever we could.
We both doze off at some point, Dane carrying me to our room where sleep takes us under once more, neither of us realizing another delivery had been left for me while we were out cold, this time on our doorstep…four roses.
Chapter Eight
Aurora
July 12th…
“Aurora?” The shift supervisor calls out as I exit the breakroom, having just finished mine. Turning to let her know I heard her instead of hollering down the hall, I wait to see what she needs me to do. “Can you prep the patient in curtain three for stitches?”
“Of course,” I tell her once I’m closer, then walk past her to make my way to that section. Pulling back the curtain that had been drawn to ensure privacy, I begin my greeting at the same time so I don’t startle them. “Good afternoon. My name is Aurora and I’ll be your nurse. I hear you had an acci…” My voice trails off when I see the man on the table.
Slowly backing away, from in front of me comes a voice I’ll never forget. “Now, now, I came here to see you. That’s quite rude to not let me.”
Not wanting to make any sudden moves that might piss him off, I act as if I’m not terrified. “How’d you hurt yourself, Mr. Smith?”
“Please, call me John. After all, we’re old friends, aren’t we?” If that’s his real name, his parents have a warped sense of humor. As he tells me how he was injured - not paying attention while making his lunch, I can’t help but wonder if the truth is more nefarious, as in someone hurt him as opposed to a knife slipping, but he seems surprisingly sincere. Once I’ve gone over his paperwork, I begin prepping around the wound, urging the doctor to hurry. “You do it.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, hoping I misunderstood him, yet knowing I didn’t.
“The stitches. I know you’re waiting on the doctor to come in, but that won’t be happening. You do it here or once we leave.” Then he shrugs as if saying he doesn’t care which I choose. It’s then his options hit me. I can’t allow him to take me from the hospital, if I do, I know my chances diminish. Although I know how to do them, I’m not allowed to, not being a CNS or NPS, but I can stall if I do it here, and that makes the decision for me. If I’m reprimanded afterward, that just means I’m alive to get in trouble.
When he sees the needle in my hand, he stops me, asking what I’m doing. “It only numbs the area surrounding the injury, nothing else,” I assure him.
“If you’re lying,” he warns and promises. Nodding to let him know I understand, I go through the motions, my mind searching as I do for a way out of this. Too bad I don’t have my earbuds in today and I don’t dare fidget in my pockets. I’m hoping he assumes we can’t carry our phones during our shifts. We can, use is just restricted.
“You’ll just feel a slight pinch,” I inform him, then take a deep breath to steady my hand. Both are shaking so badly I’m worried I might not be able to do this. Needing to know, and not wanting to at the same time, I ask, “Why me?” Not that I wanted him to take anyone else.
He chuckles, the bastard, before answering, “You were there when I needed you.” Okay, I’m not sure what he means by that. “And,” he shrugs, something I’m beginning to think is a habit of his, “you were on the phone and looked happy when I saw you.” On the…I must’ve been talking to Dane, unable to contain my smile at our conversation.
Mentally urging someone, anyone, to pop in, I mentally fist bump when the anesthetic needs to be administered a second time. That one works and I begin stitching, wishing the needle was bigger so I could use it as a weapon. I know it goes against everything I believe in as a nurse, but it’s completely different when your life is in danger. It’s him or me, and I choose me.
“We’re starting over, Aurora. I have to.” I have no idea what that means except for the fact I’m out of time. Making notes in his chart, and covering my almost hysterical laughter with a cough as I realize how silly that is, I quickly scribble on it. Please, let it be enough.
**Dane**
Knowing I should’ve told her, but not wanting to scare her, I barely contained my rage that morning when I’d gone outside to grab our newspaper – yes, I’m old-fashioned that way – and found it atop two roses. They had to have been left overnight as they were a bit battered.
It about killed me to leave her at the hospital, but I did, ensuring they knew to take extra measures to keep her safe and asked security to keep their eyes peeled for a man fitting the description we’d been given from the waiter and Donald. She knows to be cautious, so disclosing this new development is unnecessary. But fuck if I’m not feeling guilty for not telling her.
Tristan and I were able to capture an image of the guy that robbed Donald on a neighbor’s camera. We weren’t able to get the footage until today as the family had only returned from vacation last night and called the station this morning after seeing our notice on their door.
There’s an APB out on John Smith, no shitting, that’s his actual name. He didn’t clock in for his shift in the mailroom at a local business today nor is he at his apartment. With no known relatives alive that he can turn to, we’re flying blind on where to locate him…not that we aren’t trying like hell to nonetheless. Each minute that passes without him in custody only increases my worry for Aurora. I’ve got a uniform stationed inside the hospital, as well as rotating units patrolling the area, but none of it eases my fear.
Brant calls around three, wanting to know if it’s true. “Yeah, we know who the fucker is, we just can’t fucking find him,” I tell him, frustration pouring out of me.
“I’m heading to the hospital to shadow my sister.” Assuring him of the steps I’ve taken doesn’t help. Not that I can blame him. Plus, to be honest, I feel better knowing he’ll be there.
“Call when you have eyes on her,” I demand.
“Will do,” he confirms, then hangs up. Waiting, fingers drumming on the table
in an impatient rhythm, I estimate how long it’ll take him to get there and locate her, then give him five additional minutes before I begin bugging the shit outta him.
With four until I start dialing, my phone rings and I snatch it up. “It’s about fuckin’ time. You find her?” I ask without greeting.
“She’s gone, Dane. I don’t know where the fuck she is. She was asked to see to a patient prior to me getting here. When I stormed back there, my gut telling me to get to my little sister, they were both gone.”
“Fuck!”
“It gets worse,” he tells me.
“How the fuck is that possible? She’s missing.”
“Something was left on the gurney.”
“Wait?”
“One red rose.”
“Tristan!” I shout, not caring that I just did so in Brant’s ear, unable to take the time I should’ve to pull the phone away from my mouth or at least cover it.
“What?” He hollers, rushing toward me, my panic probably easy to see.
I’m such a dumbass for not figuring it out sooner. “The fucker wasn’t de-escalating. I know the symbolism behind the lessening number of flowers.”
“What?”
“It was a countdown. He took my Rory.” Racing to the hospital, Tristan doesn’t even try to calm me down. He knows it’s pointless. Tires screeching, I pull up to the ER entrance and run inside, trusting my best friend to deal with the car and find me.
“Dane!” Following the sound of Brant’s frantic voice, I head in that direction. Donald, standing beside him, sends me a sympathetic look, then offers to take me to the scene. Fuck! I hate that word in relation to Aurora.
