Marrying Mari (9 page)

Ethan shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Looking around, he picked up the chart from the end of the bed where it was hooked. The gibberish scrawled there didn’t reassure him. She was attached to some kind of drip, but not to a monitor. He stepped out into the walkway outside the curtains. Men and women in what looked like nurses’ scrubs were bustling back and forth. He stepped into the path of one and effectively halted her progress.

Ethan held up the chart. “Amorini. In there. Where’s her doctor?”

The nurse looked annoyed, looked him up and down. “I don’t know.” She stepped to the side, trying to go around.

Ethan mirrored her move, holding the chart in front of her face. “Doctor?”

Realizing she wasn’t getting away until the tall, determined man in front of her got an answer, the nurse checked the chart. “Dr. Taylor. Right now he’s in with another patient, but should be done soon.”

“Will he come back here?”

“I don’t know.” The nurse sighed and shifted her feet. In a kinder tone, she added, “I’ll put a notification in that you’re here, how’s that?”

“Thanks.” Ethan flashed her a forced smile. “Sorry.”

“I get it.” The nurse squeezed his arm. “But if she’s still in curtains, it’s not that serious. It’s a good sign that he left her here.” She squinted at the chart. “Lots of cuts and bruises but no collision. No head trauma. That’s good. Gotta go.” And with that, she sprinted toward the back.

Ethan took his first deep breath since Amanda had poked her head into his office. He pulled out his cell and pressed another button.

From the curtained area, Gabe looked out. “News?”

Ethan shook his head. “The nurse said she’d tell the doctor we’re here, and that if Mari is in curtains, it’s not as serious as it looks. She said the chart said no head trauma.” The call connected, and Ethan turned his attention to the voice at the other end. “Greta? Hello. I’m at Bellevue, in the ER. A friend had an accident—no, not Gabe. Mariella Amorini. I just got here, and I haven’t spoken to the doctor yet, but I wondered if there was anything you could do? Taylor. I don’t know the first name. Looks like R on the chart. Thanks.” He disconnected. “Greta will check into it.”

“Good.” Gabriel scrubbed his hands over his face. “So we wait?”

Ethan shrugged. “I guess so.”

They stepped back through the curtains, and Ethan replaced the chart.

“Here, sit down.” Gabriel shoved him into the chair by her bedside. “I’ll go get you something to drink, a soda or something. Move the bike too.” He disappeared.

Staring at Mari’s white face, Ethan sat quietly. He lifted his hand and touched her still fingers, lying on the cot beside her. Her breathing was regular, and she had a tiny frown on her forehead, between her brows. He smoothed it away with one long finger. She shifted, turning her head toward him, pushing against his hand like a sleepy kitten.

The sounds outside the curtain faded away, all the voices and electronic noises. Ethan laid his whole hand against her brow and breathed. Closed his eyes and said a small, heartfelt prayer of thanks, as the tension drained out of him.

Gabriel strode through the waiting room, cutting a path to the automatic doors. He didn’t notice, but hospital personnel and the patients who were capable of it ducked out of his way. A man, six two, in bike leathers, sporting dark glasses and a grim expression tended to make smaller folks stand aside. The fact that he never looked at one of them only made the crowd part more quickly.

Some people breathed a sigh of relief once the automatic doors closed behind him.

Several of the women hoped he’d come in again and sit down, just for the pleasure of staring at the stunning combination of his hard features and waving, golden hair.

Outside, Gabriel moved swiftly and without hesitation toward the motorcycle he had carelessly parked and locked in a restricted space. Dedicated to some doctor, he noted without caring. Mounting the bike he keyed it on again, then, as it roared to life, suddenly slumped in the seat. Overwhelmed with the emotions that had driven him since Ethan’s call. Fear. Anger. Determination.
Love
.

That was the kicker, that last one. Gabe realized, somewhere around 25th Street that he was in love with Mariella Amorini. A woman he’d known for about forty-eight hours.

Yeah.

He thought Ethan was falling, but somehow, Gabriel was already there.

One day ago, his thinking had gone something like this:
Yeah, I want a mate. Yeah, Ethan and I need a mate. A woman. To seal the deal with the Colony, to keep our lives our own, to live the way we want to. And yeah, a woman to have our children, to raise them and make a home. Fucking us regularly. Fucking me regularly. Sounds great.

Dumbass.

With his Neanderthal-level thinking skills, he’d pictured some demure, well-brought-up, coolly beautiful Colony debutante who would have, raise and organize the children and the home while he and Ethan continued on their way. Well, certainly while he did, because Gabe suspected that Ethan would take to domestic tranquility like a duck to water.

But Gabriel would continue to spend afternoons, evenings and nights at the restaurant and club, and open several more in fact, as he and Ethan had planned. His goals would remain the same. His life would include regular sex and kids’ birthday parties, some adaptation but little significant change. He didn’t expect an emotional connection. He’d leave that to Ethan. Hell, given his family and his past, Gabe didn’t even believe in the kind of emotional tidal wave that had come over him when Ethan called this morning. Since he turned eighteen he had kept every encounter with a woman focused on sex and physical pleasure, his and hers. No emotions, no extending the relationship beyond the bedroom’s purview. He had learned, and learned well, that he wanted none of that. What he would and wouldn’t give a woman.

He lifted his right hand to his chest. His heart was slowly, slowly,
slowly
steadying down to normal.

He knew
he
would never be back to normal.

When he saw Mari in that bed, white and still, he had to touch her, to see if she was warm and alive before he could breathe again. He had driven the cycle down and across town in a state of blank, unholy terror, scared that Ethan had been lying to him, that she was hurt worse than he said or, not to be considered, dying.

They’d just found her.

He’d just found her and he knew he couldn’t live without her.

When Gabe had seen her face in Ethan’s office, he’d known everything would change. Last night he’d kissed her mouth and tasted her pussy, and he was so gone and he hadn’t even fully made love with her yet.

Damn. He shook his head, his whole body, and came back to the present. He needed to move the bike. He needed to get the coffee for himself and Ethan. He needed to get back to Mari so he could be there when she woke up. He wanted her to see him as soon as she opened her eyes and know that he was with her, keeping her safe, watching over her.

Gabe shoved a paper cup holding what looked and smelled something like coffee into Ethan’s hand. It was vending machine coffee, which gave Gabriel a bit of a shudder, but the famous restaurant chef on the front of the machine had seemed to enjoy his cup. A lot.

“Anything?”

“No doctor. Greta called and said that apparently Taylor isn’t a total idiot.” What she’d said was that he was a star of the Bellevue ER and both men should treat him with respect when he showed up. Ethan would judge that for himself. What Greta had also said was that Taylor was substance, not style, and Mariella was in good hands with him. Which made Ethan feel a tiny bit better.

“Where the fuck is he?”

Ethan slanted a look at Gabriel, who radiated restless energy at the end of the bed. “I guess he’d got some other emergencies.” Ethan continued to fill in blanks on the hospital forms in front of him. Paperwork.

“Can’t Greta come down here?”

“No.” Ethan held up a hand. “First, she’s busy with her own consults. Second, she’s not a trauma doctor. Taylor is. But she said she’d come by our place tonight and check Mariella out personally.”

Gabe nodded with satisfaction. “Great.” He stared at Mari. “No signs of waking?”

Ethan shook his head. “I think they must have given her a sedative or something to calm her down.”

A man in scrubs pushed into the curtained space. “I’m Dr. Taylor. You’re Ms. Amorini’s impatient friends?” He studied the chart and the drip, apparently unconcerned about either of the men’s reactions. Gabriel stared at the shorter, younger man and folded his arms over his chest. Damn, she was being taken care of by Doogie Howser!

Taylor pushed past Ethan and took Mariella’s pulse. Pushed down the blanket and studied the bruising on her right side. He didn’t seem too anxious about the tension emanating from both men. In fact, he ignored them while he focused on the woman on the bed.

“We are.” Ethan spoke calmly, despite his clenched fist. “How is she?”

Taylor tsked. “Human vs. curbs. Never good.” He made a notation, covered her again. Finally looked up at the two of them. His eyes were assessing but steady. “As I understand it, she was on her bike heading uptown when two pedestrians stepped off the sidewalk directly into her path. She swerved to miss them, bounced into a taxi’s front edge, went flying and slapped into the curb. Ending up not under the bus wheels or between the two battling taxis. Ms. Amorini managed to somehow perform an acrobatic trick that gave her a bunch of scrapes and a nasty bruise on her side, as you can see, but not a concussion. Well, probably not a concussion. Likelihood minimal. She did wrench her wrist and bang her knee, but again, minimal damage for someone in that situation. I’m writing out a script for pain meds which should also knock her out, but just to be on the safe side, she shouldn’t be alone.”

“She won’t be.” Ethan said.

The doctor studied them again. “Yes, well, she also can’t take excitement, including physical excitement, if you get my meaning, for a couple of days. She needs sleep, time to heal and quiet. Hydration. Food. Someone looking after her to keep her in bed. Or nearly. She’ll be stiff when she wakes. Head will hurt too, I imagine. Glad she was wearing her helmet and thick riding clothes. Saved her skull and her skin.” He wrote and handed the script to Ethan. “Might even be a little dizzy when she wakes. She’s knocked out now by a very low dose of painkiller—probably the shock and excitement, nothing serious.”

“Can she go?” Gabriel was impatient, his voice hard. Ethan looked at him, signaled
keep it cool, man
.

Taylor glanced at him, smiled. “Yes.” His beeper went off. “You can get that filled here or anywhere. My service is on there too, if you need to call me later. Get her checked out in about a week, and keep those bandages clean and dry.” The doctor sprinted off.

Gabriel shook his head. “Do you think he’s really a doctor? He looks fifteen!”

“I don’t care right now.” Ethan dialed his cell. “Eli? We’re ready. Bring the car around.” He looked at Gabriel. “Why don’t you take her to the car? I’ll take care of the paperwork and follow you in a few minutes.”

“I’ve got the bike.”

“I called Tosh. He’s sending someone to bring it back to the club.”

“Thanks.” Gabriel tossed the keys to Ethan and gently gathered Mari into his arms. “See you out there.”

Ethan watched as the bigger man headed toward the lobby. He pulled the clipboard back to him and filled in the last remaining blanks. Made a mental note to contact Mariella’s job, as well as his insurance broker about adding her to his policy. Balls to the wall, she was in their lives.

Chapter Six

Gabriel laid Mari down on the edge of Ethan’s big bed. Kneeling down, he unlaced each boot and set it aside, then unrolled the socks to bare her feet. He’d already shucked off the jacket he’d wrapped around her to keep her warm and preserve her modesty. He thought she would care about that, although his only notion had been getting her home and in bed.

He stood. Crossing to Ethan’s dresser, he pulled out the various drawers until he found what he wanted, a pair of silk pajamas, never worn. They had been a gift from some former girlfriend. She had given Gabe a pair as well, but he had immediately gotten rid of them, preferring to sleep nude. Ethan kept every damn thing, however, and Gabe had known, somehow, that something exactly like this would be in his dresser.

Gabe tossed them on the bed, then unbuttoned and unzipped Mari’s pants, now stained and worse for wear post-crash. He gently slid them over her bandages and off. The simple white underwear that was all she wore was quickly disposed of, and Gabe slipped the soft, blue pajamas onto the still-unconscious woman.

Ethan had gone to get the prescription filled, saying he needed the short walk.

Settling Mari’s sleeping body in the center of the big bed, Gabe carefully pulled the sheet and comforter up over her, tucking her in.

“How is she?” Mrs. Watson carried a tray with a mug and a carafe of water.

“Fine, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly and shrugged.

Mrs. W set the tray on the bedside table and patted his shoulder. “Her color is better.” The older woman hadn’t flinched when Gabe had charged through the door carrying an unconscious female body. Ethan had tossed out a brief explanation, but Gabe suspected that the housekeeper had accurately read the expressions on both his and Ethan’s face and wisely decided to ask questions later.