Under His Skin (16 page)

The drive to the Kelsey ER was a blur. He was pretty sure he rolled through a few stop signs and red lights before sliding into a parking spot near the ER doors.

The sun was beginning to paint the horizon brilliant colors. A pair of nurses in scrubs sat on benches smoking as he strode through the sliding glass doors. Cold air slapped him in the face. The scents of vomit, bodily fluids and bleach perfumed the air against a backdrop of crying babies and swearing old men.

Sliding his phone from his pocket, he dialed Kellie.

She answered after the first ring. “Hey, are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m in the lobby.” He looked around but didn’t see any of the So Inked girls. “Where are you?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to get here. Coming out now.”

He glanced around the waiting room, searching out each door.

“Brian, here.” Kellie’s head and shoulders stuck out of a door marked Exit Only.

Crossing the floor, he had to sidestep an orderly mopping up god only knew what to get there.

“What happened?” he asked, a hundred possibilities flying through his mind. None of them good.

Kellie took him by the elbow and steered him down a sterile hallway, all white on beige. “She was walking home and Robert jumped her. He beat her pretty bad, and left her in an alley unconscious. A guy walking his dog found her. We’ve been here for a few hours, but I think they’re going to release her soon.”

The hallway disappeared in a haze of red. “Have they found the sick fuck?”

Her lips pursed. “No. At first she couldn’t remember anything about her attacker, she only remembered in the last hour, and only after they put her through the whole rape kit test and grilling. They’re not ready to trust her to know what she saw.”

Ripping out of her grasp, he pivoted, ducked his head, paced a few strides and did an about-face. Shoving his hands through his hair, he looked back at Kellie. Her face was pale and pinched. He noticed she was in Magic 8 Ball pajama pants and a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt. As if she’d come from bed as well.

He wanted to track Robert down and beat his ass.

“You done?” Kellie snapped. “Because if you’re going to get pissed off and angry, she doesn’t need that. She needs you. If you can’t be there for her, leave and I’ll cover for you.”

“I’m fine.” He gestured down the hall. “Let’s go.”

They turned a corner. Outside a room a few doors down, two uniformed officers spoke with a doctor.

For all the time he’d spent in hospitals, he didn’t mind them. The bad things hadn’t happened in ICU. The doctors had put him back together. But for Pandora, he could only imagine what she’d been made to go through.

His hip twinged in remembered pain, not that he had much feeling in the joint, but it ached enough to make him wince.

“Can we go in?” Kellie asked the doctor.

He glanced from Kellie to him over the top of his glasses. “Yes. The nurse should be around soon to get her discharge papers in order.” The doctor offered Kellie his hand. “Is she going home with you?”

“No, me,” he interjected. “I’m Brian. Her boyfriend. Kellie called me.”

The doctor’s brows rose. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I told her earlier. Ice her ankle and face in fifteen-minute to half-hour increments. She’s going to want to take a mild pain reliever and see her primary care physician. And if she remembers anything else about her attack, the police will want to know.”

He nodded, fisting his hands. “Yeah, can I see her now?”

“Sure.” The doctor nodded. “Just keep her calm.”

His heart thudded in his chest as he gripped the door handle. It was warm to the touch, which meant there had been a lot of going and coming. He pushed the door open, sidestepped into the room and closed it behind him.

Pandora lay in a hospital bed, propped up with pillows. Her hair was lank, spread out over the stark white sheets. Looking at her face, he felt an echo of pain. One eye was swollen and bruised. Her bottom lip was split and glossy with a drop of blood. Dark purple spots dotted her neck, and that was what he could see of her injuries. The machines beeped and whooshed around her.

Was this what she would have looked like at eighteen if he hadn’t been there for her? He’d been her hero once, and now he’d failed her. If he’d sucked up his ego, he could have been there to protect her.

The urge to punch and kick something was strong. He wanted to do something, fix what had happened, but he couldn’t knit her body back together. He couldn’t smooth away the bruises.

Approaching the bed, he gently took her hand in his and leaned over the railing.

“Hey, Pandy,” he said softly. It felt as if he was trying to speak around a mouthful of cotton balls. “It’s Brian. I’m here.”

She groaned and turned toward his voice. Her brows drew down and her hand clenched around his. Her eyes opened a hair and she peered at him.

“I’m not in a coma,” she mumbled. “I drifted off to sleep. What are you doing here?”

He smoothed her hair off her face with the lightest touch possible. “Kellie called me.”

Her hand twisted in his to lace their fingers together. “You shouldn’t have come out here. They’re going to send me home soon.”

“I wish you would have called me earlier.” What he wished he’d done was swallow his pride days ago. He could have been with her last night. He could have prevented this.

“Hm.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and she didn’t say anything more. The hold on his hand didn’t loosen. Snagging a tissue from a side table, he daubed her lip. She winced away from the touch, tossing her head weakly on the pillow.

“Sorry.”

She lifted her other hand and touched her lip. “There’s supposed to be a cup of water over there.” She gestured behind him. “Can you get that?”

“Sure thing.” Twisting to grab the cup, he brought the straw to her lips and held it while she drank. “How are you feeling?” he asked when she relaxed back into the pillows.

“Like I got hit by a Mack truck,” she said, sounding like a lifetime smoker. “How do I look?”

He glanced down in the cup, unable to look at her and lie. “Like you need a good night’s sleep.”

She laughed, or tried to. It turned into a painful cough.

“Hey.” He gestured to his cheek since hers was bruised. “Where’d your Monroe go?”

“I think I lost the ball end of it in the alley. They made me take the stud out when I got here.” She lifted a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Not like you don’t know anyone who can repierce it for you, right?”

The corners of her mouth lifted, but it was a real smile.

He squeezed her hand. “Hey, I’m going to go see about getting you out of here, okay?”

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her hand slipped from his and settled on her stomach. He stood there a moment, watching her. This should be a scene off a TV show, not his life. He was already living a damn cliché, that didn’t need to extend to the other people in his life.

Brian exited her room and found the cops talking to Kellie in the room next to Pandora’s, their heads put together.

“Hey.” He knocked on the door. “Can I interrupt?”

One of the police officers stood up and offered his hand. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” He perched on the edge of a plastic chair, his knee bouncing. “I don’t know if this means anything or not, but a week ago I got this note on my Jeep. I thought it was a flier. I crumbled it up and left it in my pocket. A few days ago I pulled it out.” He switched his attention to Kellie. “Have you told them about the fliers?”

“Yeah, I did.” Her brows drew down into a line parallel with her bangs. “What’s this about?”

“It was one of those fliers, but someone wrote, ‘Stay away from her’, over it. I thought it was some stupid kid. I didn’t think anything about it.”

“What did you say your name was, sir?” one of the officers asked.

“Brian Adler.”

The officer scribbled his name on a pad. “Do you happen to have this paper on you?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s at home, but I do have it.”

“We’d like to take a look at it, if you still have it.” The officer produced a card. “I think it would be in Pandora’s best interest if she stayed with a friend for the time being.” His eyes flicked to Kellie.

“I can’t.” She shook her head. “I want to, don’t get me wrong, but I have my grandmother living with me and she has Alzheimer’s. It’s—it’s been getting worse. I can’t chance them both being there needing me to care for them.”

“She’ll stay with me,” Brian interjected. He glanced at Kellie out of the corner of his eye. He knew what it was like to watch someone you loved die. “When can we leave?”

“She’s cleared to go now,” the officer replied.

He he stood and offered his hand, anxious to get Pandora to his place. Where he could take care of her. “Great.”

Chapter Ten

Japanese Tattoos: Originally rooted in the Tokyo period, these styles were made popular by the organized crime faction known as the Yakuza. Features prominent symbols in history and mythology. Most popular are the Koi fish, geishas, samurai warriors, cherry blossoms, tigers and dragons.

Pandora popped another dose of painkillers and rolled to her side. Brian’s bed was bigger and softer than hers from Goodwill. It didn’t have springs that prodded her hip or lumps that hurt her back. The sheets were soft and the comforter smelled clean. Hers smelled permanently of ointment, shampoo and paint remover.

Gibson wiggled his long body up to head butt her chest. Since Brian had brought her to his place, the dog hadn’t left her side. It was oddly comforting in a way she’d never expected. All the man’s-best-friend stories made sense after spending a day with the Corgi.

She could hear the faint sound of the garage door opening. Shutting her eyes, she listened for the door from the garage to the kitchen to open. Gibson’s body twitched under her hand when the kitchen door creaked. It was weird to be able to identify Brian’s movements, how his keys chimed when they hit the kitchen counter. The thud of his feet on the stairs and the way he shuffled down the hallway. She smelled the food first, sending her stomach growling all over again.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Brian paused in the doorway, bags of food and soft drinks in hand. Something green with tufts of black was tucked under his arm. He kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed with her and Gibson. He leaned against the headboard, his offering in his lap. “Still hungry?”

“Starving.” She still sounded like a frog croaking. Looking at a mirror wasn’t in her near future. Slowly she levered herself up and scooted back to copy Brian’s pose.

He handed over a bag and a cup. She knew he watched her closely, but never made a move to do anything for her unless she asked. In a way, having gone through his recovery made him the best person to tend to others. She left her drink on the bedside table and spread out her meal on the mattress next to her.

“I got you something,” he said, the mysterious object held out of sight.

The paper crinkled under her hand as she unwrapped her taco. Glancing at him, she didn’t know if this was something to be excited over or wary. “What?”

Grinning, Brian pulled the something up from beside the bed and held it out to her with both hands.

The plushie had a square shape like a small throw pillow. Its face was green and sported sketchy teeth and felt eyes that looked in two different directions. Its clothing was patchworked and made to appear dingy, with suspect bits of red.

Chuckling, she reached for the present and held it up in front of her with both hands. Turning it over, she laughed at the arms and legs that dangled off the square body.

“Where did you find a zombie pillow?” She couldn’t help hugging it to her chest. It wasn’t stiff like a lot of novelty items, it was plush and soft and smelled of Brian.

“I can’t give up my secret.” He winked at her, the first real smile she’d seen in ages gracing his lips.

“Thank you.” She would have kissed him, but the gash on her lip still bled occasionally.

She set the plushie up next to her and patted the fuzzy head.

“Watch out, Gibson,” Brian said. “He’ll get you.”

In answer, Gibson put his head on her knee and watched her take her first bite of her taco with his big, sad puppy dog eyes.

“He’s staring at me,” she whispered when she couldn’t take it anymore.

“He just wants some. Gib, here boy.” He pulled out some of the brisket from his taco and offered it to the dog, who lapped it up with his Laffy Taffy tongue. “He likes you.”

Startled, she glanced up at Brian. “He does?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the dog’s head.

“How do you know?” She ran her fingers over one of Gibson’s stubby legs and chuckled when he rolled over to show her his belly.

Brian paused and studied at her. “Have you never had a dog before?”

She started to shake her head, but a twinge of pain stopped her. “No. I don’t think I’ve even petted a dog as much as this before. My dad didn’t like animals. He barely tolerated his own kids.”

“Huh. Well, he likes you better than me.” Brian shoved the last half of his taco into his mouth.

“But how can you tell?” She scratched Gibson’s pink stomach like she’d seen Brian do and was rewarded with a kicking leg.

He took a moment to chew his food before replying. “When you came in, he stayed close to you. He won’t leave your side. And even though I feed him, and I gave him some of my taco, he’s still hooked on you. I mean, I don’t blame him. You’re pretty hot, but still. You’d think I’d get a little loyalty after all these years.” He crumpled his bag and leaned back against the headboard.

Though she’d eaten only one taco, Pandora couldn’t find it in her to eat more. “I’m full.” Spreading open the remaining taco, she offered it to Gibson. He sat up and munched the whole thing right up.

“Have you called your dad?”

Her head snapped up and a wave of pain wrapped around her skull. “No. Why would I?”

Brian blinked at her, clearly at a loss for what to say.

“My dad and I don’t really talk.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared across the room.