She tried to hold the glare but giggled. “Shut up, Evie McStevie. Now I stink too.”
“Har har.” I giggled. “At least everyone’s awake now,” I sing-songed.
She gave me a speculative look. “How was your date last night?”
I gave her the quick lowdown, and she sighed. “Why can’t you and Jared just get your shit together already?”
The sound of my phone buzzed from my room, so I politely gave Mac the finger for her interference.
She sneered in return.
Satisfied with the exchange, she got up to bang down the bathroom door and I went to my room to check my phone.
“Mac?” I yelled.
“Yeah?”
“Travis wants to know if we want to go to the shooting range with him and Coby.”
“Cool. When?”
“Wednesday. Can we squeeze that?”
“Maybe. Let me check the diary.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Henry walk out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his slim hips. I threw my phone on the bed and raced for the bathroom. Mac cackled evilly when she beat me to it, slamming the door in my face.
Two days later found us at the shooting range with Coby and Travis. Oddly enough, it was a regular outing for most of us. Guns ran in both families because of our brothers' careers, and heavy betting usually ensued with the loser having to pay for either lunch or dinner. As usual, I busted everyone’s targets out of the water because firing a gun seemed to be my second talent, and Mac, the worst shot of the day, was gearing up to buy us all lunch.
Unfortunately, when we were pulling out of the carpark of the shooting range, Coby and Travis got a call from Jared. All Mac and I managed to make out was that some kind of kidnapping slash hostage stand-off was going down in Penrith. It meant we were abandoned at the shooting range and had to call Henry for pick up duty. Apparently, hostage negotiation waited for no man, or in this case, Coby and Travis.
My phone buzzed madly at three the next morning. Panicked, I sprang to a sitting position and snatched it up.
J: Baby, need you to come get me.
E: What? It’s 3 am!
Was he high? And enough with the ‘baby’ business already. I liked it too much. I threw the phone on the bed and huffed my way back under the covers. When it buzzed again, I eyed it evilly and considered turning it off but picked it up instead.
J: At the hospital.
The words had my heart leaping into my throat, and I shifted to the edge of the bed and planted my feet on the floor.
E: Are you okay?
J: Just a couple of scratches.
I knew Jared and his scratches.
E: What hospital? I’ll come get you.
J: Prince Alfred. Thanks. Can’t sleep here. Horrible a**hole next to me is snoring like a freight train.
I padded to my wardrobe and changed into a pair of soft worn jeans and a hooded sweater. Tying my hair into a messy knot at the nape of my neck, I grabbed my car keys, phone, and wallet and quietly let myself out of the house. I set the GPS and drove along the quiet, dark deserted streets to the hospital.
The help desk directed me to level four, and I waited patiently while Fiona, according to her name tag, finished tapping away at whatever it was she was doing at the nurses station. She stopped and her kind, tired eyes gave me a questioning look.
“I’m here for―”
“Jared?” she interrupted.
“I...yes. How did you know?”
“I didn’t. Just hopeful I guess after he told me he was ‘busting out of the joint’.” She air-quoted with an amused roll of the eyes. She stood up, tucked a pen neatly into her breast pocket, and walked around the counter with a capable efficiency all nurses seemed to possess.
“Follow me, love.”
I followed her down the corridor. “Is he okay?”
She turned her head to meet my eyes as she moved smartly along the corridor. “Two stab wounds to his back. They’re not deep, love, so there’s no internal damage.” My eyes went wide and my breathing faltered. She attempted to reassure me, but it didn't ease any of my panic. “We were just keeping him overnight for observation and the possibility of infection.”
“Stab wounds?”
“He’ll be fine, love.” She gave a reassuring pat to my hand. “He’s all stitched up, but he’ll need complete bed rest for at least forty-eight hours to give the wounds time to heal. We’ve dosed his IV up liberally with morph**e, so he’ll likely be off his rocker. I’ll write you a script for some heavy duty painkillers before you leave, but I’ll give you a couple in a little packet to take with you for the morning because he’s going wake up in a lot of pain.”
We moved into the room where Jared lay awake, half-reclined, and beaming a silly smile at me.
“Evie!” he slurred.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Morph**e,” she whispered and giggled.
I moved to the bed and he latched onto my hand. I tried to snatch it back as I looked him over. “Jared, I’m not sure it’s a good idea that you leave.”
He tugged my hand back, and I stopped struggling when I saw him grimace in pain. “Not you too, Evie,” he grumbled. “How will I get any better if I can’t sleep?” He rolled his eyes over at the other bed where, true enough, a big man lay snoring like a freight train.
“Okay, okay,” I conceded. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep with that either, and he did look tired. His lovely golden skin was pale.
Fiona pottered around unhooking his IV and writing in his chart. She handed him a form which he signed before she left and came back with a wheelchair. “If I catch you trying to walk out of this hospital not using that wheelchair, then you won’t be going anywhere.”
“Tell me what happened, Jared,” I ordered.
“Can I tell you later?” he asked as he slowly got out of bed. “I’m a bit knackered right now.” He turned his back to me so he faced the bed and ripped off his hospital gown.
“Jared,” I squealed. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and I almost passed out when I got a glimpse of his bare ass. It met the tops of his legs in a tantalising package of firm, smooth skin that had me diverting my eyes before the urge to get grabby overwhelmed me.
He chuckled in the face of my modesty when I turned around to face the wall as though it held all the secrets of the universe.
“Put some clothes on!”
“Like you’ve never seen a bare ass before.”
I muttered under my breath. “Not one as fine as that.”
“Right, let’s go,” he said after a minute.
I turned back around to see him wearing jeans covered in blood spatter. Knowing it was his had me closing my eyes at the swift onset of anger until I felt myself shake with it. “Who did this to you?”
He smiled a silly grin and his dimple deepened with amusement. “Why? Going to give them a knuckle sandwich for me, baby?”
“Damn straight,” I muttered valiantly. “I’ll kick the f**ker’s ass.”
“Maybe you’ll get your chance later today,” he chuckled.
“Where’s your shirt?”
“It got thrown out. It was all torn and bloody.” He gave me a pitiful look. “Can we just go?”
“Come on then.” I sighed.
By the time I started the car, I realised I hadn’t been to Jared’s place before. I only knew it was a loft somewhere in Woolloomooloo that he shared with Travis. Putting the car in gear, I look at him. “Where do you live, Jared? I’ll drop you home. Will Travis be there?”
“Travis will still be working. Evie...” He smiled his silly grin again as I drove out of the hospital car park. “Beautiful Evie,” he sing-songed, and I wondered how much morph**e they pumped into that IV of his. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”
Droopy eyelids and a soft smile, I laughed at the dreamy expression, but I couldn’t leave him like that on his own. “Come on, Romeo, I’ll take you home with me.”
He grinned in smug satisfaction. “I like hearing those words on your lips. I like hearing everything on your lips. You sing like an angel. Sing me a song?”
“Jared, I’m trying to drive.”
“How about I sing you a song?” He started to warble a little tune, and it grated painfully on my ears. Bad singing, I realised, ran in the Valentine family.
“Don’t. Stop! Please,” I pleaded, laughing as I began the return journey home through the still dark streets. “My ears are bleeding.”
“Don’t stop? Okay,” he joked and kept singing. His little song faded out pitifully, and when I took a quick glance at him, I saw he was fast asleep. When I pulled into the driveway, I gave Travis a quick call to let him know I had him at my place. He seemed relieved, asking me if we could keep him for a couple of days to rest up because he’d be working around the clock. I agreed and hung up on his promise to come by in the morning with Jared's laptop and some clothes.
When I shut off the ignition, Jared stirred. “Evie?”
“Yeah?” I replied as I tucked my phone back in my bag.
I looked up and was met with sober and serious eyes.
“I feel like everything is so much brighter when I’m with you. When you’re not there it’s like someone turned out the lights.”
It had to be the morph**e talking, but still, I grasped his hand and squeezed tight, feeling the warmth of it wrap around me soothingly.
“I know. I feel the same.”
I let go of his hand and fumbled with the door handle.
He reached out and snagged my wrist. “Evie?”
I stopped. “Yeah?”
He looked at me intently, and after a long pause, let go of my arm. “Nothing.”
Chapter Seven
I heard an alarm go off at a time that should have been reserved solely for bakers and crazy people. Was it some kind of hideous cosmic joke or simply Henry playing another prank? He’d done it before when I’d eaten the last of the chocolate biscuits. I racked my brain but I couldn’t think of what I’d done recently that deserved this kind of retaliation. Maybe it was from lack of real food in the house. Perhaps Lord of the Flies was now a reality and Henry was the first of us to fall.
I opened one eye when I heard a male grunt and the alarm stopped.
“Sorry,” Jared muttered. “Forgot it was set.”
Hair mussed and eyes half open, he turned his head to face me, giving me the urge to snuggle close and feel the heat of his bare skin against mine.
His grimace of pain had me scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for the pills and water I’d placed nearby last night. “Here.” I handed them over.
Jared propped himself up on an elbow and put them in his mouth before reaching for the water I held out.
“Thanks,” he offered gratefully after swallowing them down.
I took back the empty glass and sat it back down. “You wanna tell me what happened?”
He sighed and snuggled into the fluffy white covers, wincing a little. “It was the hostage situation from yesterday at Penrith. We’ve been consulting on this case that started as a kidnapping a couple of weeks ago. Jimmy Farrell took his two young kids in a custody dispute, and believe me, Jimmy is not the kind of father you’d want around your kids.”