"Katy, Dagger is on his way back up. I put a stat on that ultrasound and X-ray reports. Let me know as soon as it's in," Dr. Kent said, standing up from the station across from me. "I'm just going to check on rooms five and six, then go on my lunch. You can reach me on my pager if you need."
"Did you need me for anything?"
"Nope, go ahead and continue your paperwork” Dr. Kent had just walked into room five when Dagger rounded the corner. My eyes met his and he tapped the desktop in front of me with his finger, smiled at me, and went back into the room he had been occupying. I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of his rock-hard abs as he reached up and pulled the curtain across the doorway.
"You may want to wipe the drool off your chin." Mollie giggled from across the way.
I jumped and quickly put my head back into my computer and began typing.
Forty minutes later, Derrick's results had come in, and the doctor returned just as I went to page him. "Derrick's results are in," I said, handing them to him to review.
He glanced down at the reports, quickly looking them over. "Good, only bruising, nothing’s broken," he murmured as he sat, continuing to read them over. "Well, let’s go deliver these results to Dagger, shall we? Then I'll write up the discharge orders, and you can get started processing those while I check in on rooms one and two."
I nodded and followed the doctor back into the room.
When we entered the room, Dagger was lying back, his arms laced behind his head, staring at the ceiling. As I looked over at him, I caught another quick glance of his bare abs. I could see the tiny trail of hair going down into his pants and felt myself blush as his eyes caught mine. This was ridiculous. I saw naked men all the time in my career; one happy trail was no different than the other.
"Dagger, good news. It's all just bruising. We've been through this before, so I know you know what to expect. Do you have any questions for me?"
Derrick looked at him. "No, doc, we're good. As you said, if I pee blood longer than two or three days, I'll be back."
I was still staring at his exposed abs, the little trail of hair that led down into the front of his pants, and his deeply carved 'V' causing me to continue thinking completely inappropriate thoughts, when he turned his eyes on me. Dagger cleared his throat, and the doctor handed me his chart.
"Katy, notes," Dr. Kent said, holding the chart in front of me, pulling my attention away.
I took the chart from the doctor and looked over at Derrick. As soon as our eyes locked, I saw a smirk settle on his lips and I turned away. No way in hell was I going to be lured in by those big, dark-chocolate brown eyes. I also wasn't going to offer him even a hint of encouragement, although I may have already done that.
"All right, Katy, let’s go and get started on Dagger’s discharge papers, shall we?"
I nodded and turned to follow the doctor back to the desk where he scribbled down some notes and a couple prescriptions before walking away. Once I had everything, I began the discharge process.
Thirty minutes later, I returned to the room with papers for Derrick to sign and the prescriptions and directions in my hand.
I walked into the room, and the overhead light was now off; just the small wall light on. I found Dagger lying on the table, sound asleep, his one arm still stretched up behind his head, the other flung over his eyes to block out what little light was on in the room. He was lightly snoring away, and as I stood there watching him, I almost didn't want to wake him up. He didn't look restful, though, despite what he had showed earlier. Now I could see the pain he was feeling etched across his face. He wore a bit of a frown, and his jaw was set tightly, his forehead beaded in sweat. Seeing him this way made him seem different, not as hard and much more human. Why hadn't he asked me for pain killers, I wondered.
"Derrick," I murmured in hopes that I would wake him without me having to touch him, but it was just my luck, he didn't even so much as flinch. I stepped a little closer and tried again, this time saying his name just a little bit louder, but again nothing. His breathing didn't even change, so I knew he was out. I stepped closer to the table and placed my hand on his chest, gently shaking him. "Derrick," I whispered.
Without warning, the arm that was covering his eyes came down and his hand landed over top of mine. His large hand enveloped my small one, holding it in place on his hard, muscular chest. "Hmm, yeah, baby? What is it?"
I felt a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach at his soft words and his touch.
Even though I realized he must be dreaming, I stood there for a second, not knowing what to do or say, just taking in the feeling of his warm, hard chest under my hand, his rough, strong hand on top of mine. His body felt different than Jonas’, harder, more defined. Jonas was all watery soft from the roids. Perhaps Derrick was all natural.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" he murmured again.
I quickly pried my hand out from under his, while working hard to ignore how such a big, strong, rough man could have a touch that was so soft, gentle, and warm.
At my quick movement he opened his eyes, then sat up rather quickly, groaning at the fast movement he made. "You're all set. Here is a prescription for some pain killers, two every four to six hours as needed. I think perhaps you should take a couple now." I shoved the bottle of pills into his hand and stepped off to the side, giving him room.
He looked at the bottle in his hand, reading the label, and then shoved the bottle back into my hand and looked at me. "I won't be needing those. Doc knows I don't poison my body with that shit. A couple of days and I'll be back in the gym, good as new."
"Are you crazy? I can see you're in pain," I said, frowning at him. He had just had the shit kicked out of him and here he was talking about being back in the gym. Even though this made me angry on a personal level, I had to keep my composure professional and I bit back my comment. "You should take them with you, just in case you need them," I said, shoving them back into his hand.
"Sweetheart, it’s fine. I have a bunch of them at home from the last time I was here. Never took a single one, and I was worse then than I am now. I'll be good." He took my pen and quickly signed the papers, grabbed his sweatshirt, and left the room, leaving me staring after him with his pills in my hand.
Chapter 5
Dagger
The stale air met my nose as I opened the door to my apartment. I walked in and planted my ass down on the old couch that sat against the far wall, the springs moaning out their displeasure at my weight. It was a shitty couch with holes in the material and stuffing popping out, and if you sat on the center cushion, you would get harpooned with a broken spring.
I leaned my head back against the cushion, and as soon as I closed my eyes, I was brought back to that cute little nurse in her purple scrubs, Katy. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since I had left the hospital, and as I sat there, I shook my head to try and erase thoughts of her.
Deep down I knew I wasn't good enough for someone like her. Who did I think I was kidding? I could barely take care of myself, never mind adding anyone else into the mix, but sadly, I could easily see myself falling for her.
Over the years, I'd had my share of pickups, and I was regularly hit on by the ring girls, but I'd not had a steady girlfriend in years. However, I was adamant, there was no way I would date one of them. Those girls were only looking for someone to support them, and when the winning stopped and the money ran out, they would be onto their next guy. I knew it; I saw it every time one of them spoke to me after winning a fight, and since that was the only time they were after me, it just proved I was right. The only thing they saw was that I would be lining my pocket at the end of the night. Five grand was a lot of money for only fifteen minutes in a ring. If that was the payout here in a small town, I could only imagine the payout in one of the bigger cities, and that was why I was working towards Vegas.
I looked around my place. I was living in a shithole, and before I took on the responsibility of looking after and supporting someone
else, I needed to find another place, another job, something with more stability. All the money I made in these matches paid for rent, my car, food, gym membership and training so I could keep up my physique. I barely had anything left over at the end of the month after my entry fees were paid up for the next fight.
I let out a sigh. The problem was fighting and working out was all I knew and it would be hard to find something else. At one point I'd thought about maybe coaching kids in schools, perhaps an after school program. I would be able to turn something bad into good, have kids put all the frustration and rage that they carry around to good use. I started to doubt myself when I started wondering if parents would want their child to be taught how to fight. Life today was supposed to be gentler, kinder, and with my luck, I would just be teaching this next generation of children how to bully.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and glanced at the screen. Five new messages were waiting for me. I listened to each one; most of them were my friends congratulating me on my win. The last one was from my trainer. He had been the one to take me to the hospital, dropping me outside the emergency room doors, leaving me there to take a cab home. I figured he would be back on me right away, wondering if I'd be back in the gym in the morning. He saw the fight, he knew the extent of my injuries, but he also knew I was tougher than that. There was no way I was going to let a couple of bruises and ten stitches knock me down.
I rested my head back on the couch and stared up at the stained ceiling. Would I be back in the gym tomorrow? I wanted to be, yet I also never wanted to be there again because I had realized something tonight when I had been looking at that cutie, who stitched my eyebrow so gently I had barely felt a thing. I realized that this job was clearly going to prevent me from having the kind of woman I really wanted for the rest of my life. I wanted someone soft, loving, and caring, and no woman would put up with having her husband or boyfriend beaten to a pulp every couple of weeks. I let out a breath, debating on what to tell him, and dialed his number.
"Dagger, how are you feeling? I take it I will see you at six thirty sharp?" his voice boomed over the phone, loud music playing in the background. No doubt he was either at a club or celebrating the win with one of the ring girls.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the pillow behind me. I really just wanted one day off, just one, and debated telling him that. My body hurt, and I was tired. I just wanted to sleep, but for some reason I knew if I told him that, he would never let me have that one day off. I could already hear it in his voice. He would also tell me that winners don't quit and give me the same lecture he'd already given me about making it to Vegas.
"Dag?"
"Yeah, man, can we meet for seven instead of six-thirty?" I questioned, closing my eyes and praying he said yes.
"Sure, sure, see you then. Don't be late, and get some rest. I need my star in top shape."
I hung up the phone and threw it down on the couch beside me, rubbing my face. He needed his star in top shape, then he should have given me the day off. He had never let me have the day off before. I didn't know why I would ever think now would be different. He never took pity on me, but if he did, what kind of coach would he be? I'd have never gotten back in the ring after my first fight, if he'd had any sort of sympathy. I was almost positive he was afraid, scared that if I had a day off here or there, I might find something else to do with my life. He probably felt he needed to keep me on the hook. After all, he wasn't wrong—I was his best fighter. Little did he know, I was already good and hooked. I had to be because I had no other skills to support my sorry ass. What else would I do, be a bouncer? I had tried that a few years ago and had many guys wanting to try me every night once they got booze into them. I didn't drink and got tired of that scene quick, not to mention the money was shit. I'd never be able to support myself on that kind of money.
I let out a large yawn and stretched, but stopped when the pain started shooting through the middle of my back. Fuck I needed sleep. I glanced at the clock. It was almost two, and I was in pain and exhausted. There was nothing else for me to do but sleep because before I knew it, it would be time to get up and head into the gym. I needed rest bad, not only to heal, but to be ready for tomorrow. If not I would find myself paired with a shitty sparring partner who didn't care I had just won my last fight, and I wouldn't get better sparring with someone who was awful. He would just want to beat the shit out of me, a guy who already looked like he had been beaten because I would look like an easy target. I didn't need a partner like that. I needed one who would help me grow as a fighter.
I got up from the couch and walked over to the bed, dropped my sweatpants and T-shirt on the floor, and flopped down on the weak mattress. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. It felt as if I'd been asleep for hours when I woke with a start, and at first, I thought I had slept past my gym time. When I realized I hadn't, I lay there staring up at the ceiling thinking about what had woken me. I'd had a dream that I had finally gotten myself out of this hellhole and was living in a decent, clean place. I wasn't fighting anymore, and I was on my way to pick up my girl.
As I approached the door to her place and knocked, I felt a funny feeling inside me, perhaps excitement, right down deep in the pit of my stomach. When the door opened, Katy stood staring back at me, a soft smile on her face and the look of love in her eyes. That look had jarred me awake. The nurse who hated me in real life was the girl in my dreams, the one I was with, and suddenly I felt the letdown hit, because that would never happen; she was too good for a guy like me. I let out a little laugh and rolled over, shrugging it off.
I guess a guy could dream.
Chapter 6
Katy
I dressed in my favorite pair of jeans and hooded sweatshirt and pulled my wet hair back into a makeshift ponytail. It had been a long night and I was practically dragging myself from the changing room. My duffel bag was heavy, full of dirty scrubs from the week and two towels. Letting it hang from my shoulder, I made my way to the employee's only door of the hospital. Over the last couple of years, I had forgotten how long and draining hospital shifts really were. Twelve hours straight of whatever came through those emergency room doors. You never knew hour to hour or minute to minute what you would be faced with, and to be honest, I was afraid I didn't have the energy to deal with it anymore. I guess I had gotten soft over the last little while.
Before starting here I was working for a doctor’s office, working straight days, eight to five, with weekends and holidays off. I was spoiled most of the time with hour-long lunches with no interruptions and two fifteen-minute breaks. I was hardly ever attached to a pager or a cell phone, unless there was an emergency. The best part of those days was getting to sleep at night, all night long, and being able to have a life on weekends with my friends. Now I was lucky to be able to get a lunch or a break, as most of them now were spent eating popcorn and drinking tea while I did up patient reports, so I didn't fall behind.
I pushed the door open and stepped out into the early-morning air. I walked to my car and thought back to those days, remembering how happy I had been. That job had even paid well enough for me to save up and buy my own house, all by myself. My friends and I had even gone out to celebrate my purchase, and it was shortly after that everything began to change.
My friends started dating, some got married, and then they began having families. At that time, I was so happy for them, and even though they made sure they included me on all holidays, I was beginning to feel alone. My social life was dwindling down to nothing, and I found myself with this odd want to find a guy. You'd think it would have been easy, since I worked in a large medical office. I could have my pick of any type of doctor I wanted, surgeon, specialist, but I had made a pact with myself never to mix my work life with my personal life; things got to messy. So instead, I turned to one of my friends. She set me up with her boyfriend’s friend, John, and I had reluctantly agreed to a date the following weekend after Michelle's bachelorette party. That date never
happened because that was the night my life changed. It was the night I meant Jonas.
We were on the dance floor at a local bar when he caught my eye. I had seen him around town numerous times before, but I had never spoken to him, and in retrospect, I probably should have left it that way.
He was sitting over in a booth against the far wall, feet up on the seat, drink in hand, intently watching me, or as my friend said “eye-fucking the shit out of me.” I had done my best to ignore him, trying not to glance in his direction and encourage him, but I was a sucker for muscles, and he had muscles.
When the song we had been dancing to was over, Michelle and I headed back to our group. As I walked away, I had glanced over my shoulder and met his eyes. There was something about the way his eyes washed over my backside that I loved. When we got back to our table, Jen brought over our next round of drinks and handed me my cherry cooler, and that was when I heard a man clear his throat behind me.
"Ladies, could my friends and I buy you a shot?" I felt a hand land on my shoulder.
I rolled my eyes at Jen; she knew how much I hated guys like this. She hit me in the arm, and I turned to see the guy who had been watching me earlier, his intense, dark eyes staring back at me.
"What are you ladies celebrating?" he asked, not taking his eyes off me.
"Our friend here is getting married," Cynthia, one of the girls from across the table, said.
"This friend?" he questioned, pointing to me and squeezing my shoulder. "That sure is a shame." His eyes ran the length of my body again.
"No, not Katy. Katy will never get married. It’s Michelle," Jen said, pointing to Michelle, who was busy downing a shot of tequila with Emily.
I locked eyes with the tall stranger, and he flashed me a sexy smile. He stepped up behind me and placed his hands on my upper arms and leaned into my ear. "I'm not even going to begin to tell you how happy it makes me to hear you aren't the one getting married."
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