BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset) (51 page)

Namir went back to the monitor and saw that nothing had changed.  He stood with his hands on his hips for a few moments, and decided that it might have been a malfunction in the gate causing it to open, but he doubted it.  For all he knew a drunk Jason may have thought about leaving and forgotten to close it again.  Who knew?  Either way, he was going to have to go out there. 

Namir walked down the driveway as the early dawn light began to grow stronger.  He stopped midway down when he realized that the bulky paper was no longer laying at the end of the driveway.  A bird chirped nearby, and he jumped slightly.  He crouched and listened, allowing his wolf senses to take over.  He couldn’t detect anything around him except bugs and a few small animals, yet he knew, without a doubt, that the situation was very wrong. 

A light breeze ruffled something in the white paper box, and he moved towards it.  It looked like the end of the flimsy clear plastic tube that the paper came in was fluttering in the breeze.  He cocked his head to the side as he heard a slight hiss.  His eyes flashed bright and large as he turned to bolt out of the way, his arms and legs springing into a sprint. 

The explosion threw Namir into the air and onto his back.  His ears were ringing and his head throbbed instantly.  The initial feeling of fear gave way to anger causing all of his hair follicles to ignite.  He tried to will the sensation away as his body tried to stretch and pull against his will. 

I can’t change here!  He thought with panic.

He blinked his eyes several times trying to focus his eyes.  The sky above him tilted and eventually turned black.  The last sound he heard was Taylor screaming his name.

Namir groaned as he felt his body being lifted.  He could tell there weren’t hands lifting him, but there were voices around him.  The voices said strange important sounding words, clipped and shortened. 

“BP 160 over 90.  Pulse 110.”

He heard Taylor’s voice.

“No!  I’m riding with him!”

He was sure, as he tried to blink his eyes open that her gray eyes were staring into his.  Her eyes.  Her eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen. 

The next time he heard voices, they were hushed and whispering.  He tried to lift his head, but it felt heavy and hurt more than it had even in Afghanistan’s heat and turmoil.  It must have been what his mother referred to as ‘a blinding pain’, because he certainly couldn’t see anything.  When he did blink his eyes open, images were fuzzy and the light…oh sweet Jesus the light…was excruciating in its brightness.  He heard Taylor’s voice next to his ear, shushing him and whispering that it was ok, and to relax. 

Namir needed to tell her something.  He wanted desperately for her to understand his feelings.  His lips felt swollen.  He reached for her and immediately felt her small hands in his. 

“It’s alright, Namir, just rest.  I’ll be right here, I promise.” 

“I…”  He croaked.  “I…you…need…”

“Shhh, tell me when your better.”  Her voice was near his ear, in his head, everywhere.  He felt her lips graze his earlobe.  “I love you.”  She whispered.

Yes!  I love you too!  His mind screamed, before he drifted into sleep again.

Taylor zipped her hoodie and sighed at the doctor.  Constantine tried to rub her shoulders, but she pulled away.  “I want to know if he’ll see again.”  She repeated. 

The doctor pulled his shoulders upward.  “I think yes, but we won’t know for certain until he’s had time to heal and rest.  He has a severe concussion, Miss Randall, we’ll need to be careful.” 

The doctor excused himself and walked down the white tiled floor.  Taylor leaned against the wall of Namir’s room, her eyes on the ceiling.  She hoped Jason came with the coffee soon.  She was sure she was going to fall down.  She hadn’t slept in over twenty four hours. 

Jason approached them from the opposite end of the hall, holding a paper carrier with three cups of coffee.  His face was strained and there was a young man about Taylor’s age walking beside him.  She hoped it wasn’t a member of the press.  They already had the paparazzi camping in the hospital parking lot. 

“Who’s this?”  Taylor snapped, as Jason and the young man approached.  He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before.  He grinned at her and held out his hand, which she ignored. 

“I called your house, but the housekeeper said you were here.” 

“You called my house?  Why?  And how did you get the number?” 

“Mr. Breslow.  I had some business with him yesterday.” 

Taylor bristled and looked at Constantine.  She shook her head, indicating she had no idea what was going on.  Her red lips were faded, in need of more lipstick, and her eyes narrowed at the young man. 

“What are you talking about?” 

He shook his head, still smiling.  His brown hair moving slightly.  “Sorry, I should have explained better.  You see, yesterday was my twenty-first birthday.  I saw Mr. Breslow because my father had a trust set up for me that I can now claim.” 

Taylor looked at him closely.  He had gray eyes.  “Who are you?”

“I’m sure my trust is humble compared to yours.” 

“Who are you?”  Taylor yelled, drawing the attention of several nurses. 

He held his hand out again.  “I’m Harrison, your half-brother.”

Taylor kept her arms folded tightly over her chest, and the hoodie stayed pulled over her hair.  Constantine wrapped and rewrapped a napkin around her fingers, red nail polish vanishing then reappearing with every twist.  Jason looked like he might have vomited at any moment.  Harrison seemed calm and cool as he waited for someone to speak. 

As soon as he had announced that he was Taylor’s half-brother, Constantine had gasped and swooned, causing Jason to shove the carrying tray of coffee into Taylor’s hands, so he could grab her before she hit the floor.  Two nurses had run over and tried to take over, as Jason stuttered that she was tired, hypoglycemic, and just in need of food.  After they had given her water and checked her vitals, they had reluctantly brought Jason a wheel chair so they could go to the cafeteria.  Harrison had halfheartedly offered his assistance, which Taylor had brushed off angrily.

They sat in a corner of the cafeteria, away from the windows, with a fake tree reaching its willowy limbs towards Taylor’s head.  She sipped her coffee and glared at the man across from her. 

“I know this is a shock to you all.”  He began, taking time to look at each of them individually. 

Constantine lifted her red rimmed eyes.  “A shock?  A shock?”  She hissed.  “It’s impossible!  Tony would have never cheated on me!” 

Harrison’s mouth flicked lightly at one corner.  “He did, I assure you.”

“What’s your last name?”  Taylor asked through tight lips.  “It’s surely not Randall.” 

“Of course not.  It’s Badon.” 

Jason choked slightly on his coffee and coughed.

Taylor and Constantine’s eyes slid to him.  His usually alcohol fed red face was redder than normal. 

“Do you…do you know something?”  Constantine demanded. 

Jason stared at her blankly before making a fast recovery.  “Of course not!” 

Taylor returned her attention to Harrison.  “Where’s your mother?”

“At home…in Louisiana.” 

“I don’t have time for this crap!”  She said suddenly and stood.  Harrison reached forward and grabbed her by the wrist.  “Take your hand off of me.”  Her voice was ice, sprinkling its effect on all of them. 

Harrison’s eyes were earnest.  “Taylor, I’ve waited a long time to meet you.  My mother told me about you, and I obeyed every rule about the trust fund!  I just want to know you!” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s only been me and my mother for my whole life.”  He replied quietly. 

Taylor stared down at him.  Her expression never changed.  “That’s your bad luck.”  She addressed Jason directly.  “Take care of this problem.  I need to get back to Namir.” 

Namir turned his head slowly from side to side.  He didn’t want to risk opening an eye.  He was too afraid of the blinding light.  He felt a pressure on the bed beside him, and cool hands touched his face. 

“Namir?”  Taylor whispered. 

“Hey.”  His throat was still raw, and his voice still came out like gravel.  He wished he knew why his lips felt so funny.  He reached a hand upwards to try and feel them. 

Taylor placed a hand over his, and gently pushed it back down.  He voice was soft, but firm.  “Don’t do that.” 

“What’s wrong…with my lips?”  He tried to blink his eyes open, but something was preventing him.  He could barely make out Taylor’s face.  Something was over his eyes.  He tried to reach upward again, but Taylor’s hand once again stopped him.  “What…I can’t…”

“It’s ok, Namir.  It’s just gauze over your eyes.  It’s to protect them for a few days.” 

“Tell me.”  He said weakly.  He could feel himself fading fast. 

“Do you remember the explosion?” 

“Yes.” 

“You have some damage, but you’ll be fine.  Concussion.  Burns.  Your lips are burned some.” 

“Will…I…” 

“Shhh, go back to sleep.  I’ll be here.” 

Taylor listened to his breath become deep and even.  She watched him worriedly and willed the tears away again.  She didn’t care about the inconvenience of her body guard being out commission for the time being.  She cared that Namir was laying in that hospital bed.  She brushed a tear away angrily.  Movement caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Greta standing in the doorway.  Taylor slid off the bed and went to the door to embrace her.  She held one of Taylor’s designer bags in her hands. 

“I brought you some things.” 

“Thank you, Greta.” 

The older woman stammered her words.  “I didn’t know…I just didn’t know what to do!  That young man called, and…and Mr. Breslow confirmed…”

Taylor took the bag out of her hands.   “It’s ok, Greta.  I know you didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” 

Greta sighed and held her hands up in a helpless gesture.  “I just can’t believe it!  Mr. Randall was such a good man!”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed.  “We don’t know for certain that he is my brother.”

Greta nodded.  “Where are the others?”

“In the cafeteria having a great time.”  She said sarcastically. 

Greta took a step towards Namir’s bed.  Her face wrinkled with concern.  “How is he?”

Taylor sighed and shook her head.  “He’ll be fine, but we don’t know yet if he’ll recover full vision.” 

Greta crossed herself and murmured a prayer.  She lowered her voice further, her eyes still on Namir.  “The police will be coming again.” 

“I told them to stay away for now!”  Taylor said, and placed her hands on her hips. 

Greta touched her arm lightly.  “They will take this business serious now.” 

“Good.  Maybe they can question Harrison Badon in the process.”  She turned her face to Greta’s.  “Please take Constantine and Jason back with you.”

Greta grimaced, causing Taylor to laugh.  Taylor covered her mouth with her hand and looked quickly at Namir’s bed as he stirred. 

“Please?”  She whispered.

“Ach!”  The woman threw her hands in the air and lifted her eyes to the ceiling.  “I’ll see what I can do.”  She became serious.  “What about you?  Your guard isn’t able to guard right now.  Who’ll keep you safe?” 

Taylor jutted her chin towards the bed.  “Right now, that’s the least of my concerns.”

Greta tilted her head to the side, her eyes inquisitive.  “This young man has become more than just an employee?”

Taylor couldn’t keep her face neutral and nodded vigorously.  “But don’t tell my mother.”  She whispered. 

“Oh no!  I wouldn’t!”  Greta glanced at Namir.  It hurt her to see his head bandaged, and two IV bags hanging over his head.  “He’s special.  I hope he feels the same towards you.” 

“I’m pretty sure he does.”  Taylor smiled. 

Greta’s face became serious again.  She hesitated. 

“What is it?”

“I just wonder…”  She began.  “If he can’t recover his sight fully?”

Taylor nodded and pursed her lips.  “Will I be the bitchy celebrity, counting my losses, and cutting him loose?”

Greta nodded silently. 

“I’m turning a new leaf, Greta.  My bitchiness is reserved for only the deserving.”  She looked at Namir, but spoke to Greta.  “I’ll take care of him.” 

Greta looked at the young woman’s profile and wondered when she had finally grown up.  She imagined it had happened these couple months with the arrival of Namir Stone into her life. 

“I put a few special things in your bag.”  She said hurriedly.  “I hear your mother’s voice.  I better intercept.”  She turned at the door.  “Don’t worry about Lancelot.  I’m taking good care of him.” 

Taylor nodded and shut the hospital room door behind her, returning to Namir’s bedside.  A few minutes later Jason stuck his head in the door. 

“Greta has insisted we need baths and a hot meal.  Do you mind?”

“Nope.  Make sure Harrison not really my brother Badon leaves too.”

Jason frowned.  “He has already, but I’m sure he’ll be back.” 

Taylor glared at him until his head disappeared and the door shut again.  She took the bag Greta had brought and unzipped it.  Greta always got things right.  She had packed two clean t-shirts, jeans, and yoga pants.  There was also a small makeup bag, deodorant and a new toothbrush.  The bag was still heavy and she reached into the bottom moving the underwear and bra to pull out her copy of Wuthering Heights and a crossword puzzle book.  There was also a brand new journal style notebook and a pack of pens.  Taylor frowned as she looked at it.  She opened the front cover and saw where Greta had written a note on the first page. 

Write and write some more.  You’ve loved books, now it’s time to write something of your own.  With love, Greta.   

Taylor ran her hand over the page, a surge of emotion running through her.  No one had ever stopped to encourage her to do something just for herself before.  Excitement began to build in her stomach and chest.  With a smile she tore open the pack of pens and took the notebook to the chair by Namir’s bed.  She opened the blinds just enough to give herself extra light.  She poised the pen over the next clean page.  Her mind was racing.  She finally settled and calmed her thoughts, placing the pen on the paper. 

Once there was a girl with flaxen hair, and she roamed the woods everyday with her pet wolf, searching for true love….        

Namir felt like his body was on fire.  His head felt better, but there was a burning from within.  He didn’t know if he were actually awake or dreaming.  His mind began playing a memory from Afghanistan.  He wanted to stop it, but didn’t know how to. 

“I don’t understand!  He was thrown over twenty feet!  I saw the damage to his skull!”  The field doctor touched Namir’s neck.  “He’s burning up too!   

Sergeant Murdock leaned over Namir and frowned.  His eyes lifted to the doctor.  “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying when he was airlifted out, he should have already been dead!”    

Namir’s memories changed and his eyes moved under the lids rapidly as he was suddenly sitting next to a field full of deer, orange, yellow, and red leaved drifting out the ground around himself and his father. 

“Never kill, Namir, unless you have to.”  His arm swept towards the deer grazing in the field.  “Even one of these should only be taken for food, and nothing else.”

His father grabbed his arm and opened a pocket knife as thirteen year old Namir’s eyes widened and he tried to pull away.  The blade punctured his skin and blood rose to the surface of the cut as his father pulled the blade opening a two inch gap in his skin.  Tears welled in Namir’s eyes as he looked at his father in disbelief. 

“Just wait.”  His father said gently. 

They watched as the blood flow slowly stopped and the cut shrank in on itself slightly.  Namir could feel heat radiating from the wound. 

“What’s happening?”

“You’re body’s healing itself.  It’s one of the many Werewolf gifts.” 

“I’m invincible?”  Namir smiled shakily.

“No, not invincible.  Minor injuries will heal very quickly.  More serious ones will take longer, but your body will be able to sustain far more than a human.”  He held up a finger, his dark eyes stern.  “You can still die, Namir.”   

Namir gasped and blinked his eyes rapidly.  His body was drenched in sweat.  He reached up and tried to pull the gauze from his face. 

“Hold on!  Don’t do that!”  Taylor’s voice was urgent.  Namir thought he heard something fall as she sat beside him.  “Why are you trying to take these off, huh?”  Her voice was exhausted, but not unkind. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

Taylor smiled at how much better his voice sounded, and his lips weren’t as puffy.  “Feeling better?”  She touched his face.  “You feel hot.  I better get the nurse!” 

Namir reached for her as she darted off the bed.  He could hear her tennis shoes squeak slightly as she halted to open the door. 

“I’m fine!”  He tried to call after her.

“Well, well, let’s see what’s happening.”  Cool hands touched his wrist for several seconds.  “Pulse is a little high.  Were you having a bad dream, Mr. Stone?”

Namir nodded.  He didn’t know what else to call it.

“I’m going to take your temperature, Mr. Stone.”

Namir felt her hands touch his ear as the thermometer was placed just inside his ear.  It only took a few seconds. 

“Hmm.  102. Mr. Stone, are you feeling nauseated?” 

“No.  I actually feel better.”

The nurse spoke briefly to Taylor.  “I’m going to get the on call doctor to come in.” 

“What time is it?” 

He felt the pressure as Taylor sat back down.  “2:30.” 

“A.M.?”

“Yes.”  Taylor touched his forehead and wiped sweat from her hand discreetly on the side of her pants leg.  “You really are hot.” 

“I’m fine, trust me.” 

The nurse returned with the on call doctor, a young man that looked barely old enough to be past his internship.  Taylor looked doubtfully at his tightly curled blonde hair and blue eyes.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Grant.”  He smiled at her.  “Mr. Stone, how are you feeling?”