Wintertime Bad Boy: A Christmas Suspense Romance (Alphas Unboxed Book 3) Page 8

  I check in on Braden and he seems better than yesterday, arguing with Jen.

  “I don’t want more morphine,” he says, irritated.

  Jen gives him a cool look. “You nearly sent the night nurse into shock when she saw the state you were in last night.”

  “She caught me at a bad time—Alex!” He gives me a beseeching look. “Talk some sense into her.”

  “That’s Nurse Alex to you,” Jen says, testily, and my brow quirks with interest. She usually has a better bedside manner, even with the most frustrating of patients. But here she is, looking like she wants to roll up her sleeves and have a go at Braden.

  Braden ignores her. “Alex, I don’t need morphine.”

  I glance in Jen’s direction, completely unsympathetic toward him, the fact that he ratted me out to Damien, is still fresh in my mind. “He tried to leave out the window yesterday. You should check if he pulled something or not. I asked a nurse to take a cursory look but you are his doctor.”

  The soft blush on Jen’s cheeks doesn’t escape my notice and I note it down in my head for later consideration.

  “Traitor!” Braden glares at me.

  I give him a cold look. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

  The guilty look on his face gives me all the answers I need as he looks away. I sense Jen’s curious gaze but choose not to elaborate at the moment.

  I leave them be and go check on another patient.

  My day is relatively busy so by the time I manage to take my lunch break, Annie and Mathilda are already busy and the nurses who are eating in the hospital cafeteria are giving me a cold shoulder.

  I don’t usually care about these sorts of things but I feel a tug of irritation at the juvenile behavior and find an empty table. I pick at my meal, wishing I had eaten one of those amazing bagels that Dr. Greer had brought with him. That way I wouldn’t have to eat this suspicious looking blob that the woman behind the counter had claimed was mushroom and potato stew.

  Lost in my thoughts, my chin rests in the palm of my hand as I poke at the sludge on my plate, both starving and reluctant to poison myself with whatever this is. A shadow falls over me and I look up and stiffen.

  “Dr. Greer!”

  Oh, God. Please, no.

  “May I join you?”

  According to my sparse knowledge, the doctor has never set foot in the cafeteria before. He’s holding a square Tupperware in his hands and he looks calm.

  A hysterical giggle bubbles in my throat and I tamp it down.

  “I—yes, of course.”

  He immediately sits down.

  I stare at him, not knowing what to do, aware of the many gazes on us, most of them not very happy.

  My voice is low as he opens his container. “I don’t mean to sound—Do you really think this is a good idea?”

  He glances up at me, as if he has no idea what I’m talking about. “What is?”

  “This,” I hiss. “You gave me a ride last night. Then you gave me a ride to work in the morning. If that didn’t get people talking, now you’re having lunch with me.”

  He lifts his chin, a defiant look in his eyes that I’ve never seen on him before. “I need a place to eat.”

  I give him an exasperated look. “Yes, but does it have to be here?”

  I see the hurt enter his eyes and its such a foreign emotion there that I still. “My presence bothers you?”

  Is this guy dense?

  My hand tightens on the spoon in my hand. “People think I slept with you last night.”

  He flinches at that as if the idea is so utterly distasteful that I feel like I should be offended for a second there before I shake it off, so I press. “That won’t do much to your career but it’s going to be hell on mine.”

  He looks so bewildered and horrified. “But I don’t think of you that way! I can’t!”

  I’m too relieved to be offended. I don’t believe in workplace romances, especially when it’s so frowned upon in this particular hospital. Besides, I don’t have time for a man. My thoughts immediately go to the man staying at my apartment with those wild green eyes that make me melt inside when they fix on me.

  However, these rumors need to be dispelled and I sigh. “This is why I said, we shouldn’t arrive together.”

  After seeing all those different sides of him yesterday, I find myself more comfortable around him, comfortable enough to reproach him.

  He looks discomfited and a despairing expression crosses his face. Looking up from the container he had already opened, he opens his mouth to say something and then stops himself, looking unsure. It’s a look I’ve never seen on his face before and I feel a strong urge to comfort this kind man who looks so completely lost right now.

  “I’ll—” He looks at me, blankly. “I’ll leave.”

  Despite my better judgment, I sigh. “If you promise to share some of your lunch with me, you can stay.”

  It seems I have a soft spot for the doctor.

  When he smiles at me, a quick bright thing, my lips twitch.

  “Of course!”

  He has such a formal way of speaking but it’s endearing in a way. He opens the just closed tuppwewear and then pushes his hair back in a way that grasps my attention. It’s so familiar for some reason and I stare at his hand, not knowing what’s tickling in the back of my brain.

  “I made fajita pasta.” He puts half of it on the upended lid and pushes the tiffin toward me.

  It’s still hot and I realize the box is a thermal one.

  Too grateful for this edible looking meal, I ignore my underhanded way of getting it, and I dig in, happily. He watches me and I catch the look of satisfaction on his face before he lowers his gaze to his own meal.

  “It’s been ages since I had a proper home cooked meal,” I sigh. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

  “You don’t cook?” He sounds curious.

  I shake my head. “I’ve been picking up double and triple shifts, lately. I barely get time to eat, let alone cook.”

  A flash of alarm drifts across his face. “You’ll get sick if you keep it up at this rate.”

  I shrug. “Now I have to get overtime approved, so I guess that’s a moot point now.”

  He’s hesitant as he asks, “Why do you need to work so much?”

  I glance up and see the worry in his blue eyes, and I smile, lying with ease. “I don’t like staying at home.”

  He gives me a disbelieving look and I laugh lightly.

  Pride is definitely all I have left.

  It’s around the end of my shift that I visit Braden to give him his medicine when I see that he’s not alone. I recognize the stoic faced Matt and another man who is standing at the edge of Braden’s bed.

  My hands immediately push the small bag containing the slice of cake, behind me. I’d felt guilty over how nasty I’d been to Braden who has been nothing short of polite to me. The cake had been a peace offering.

  Too many soft spots.

  “Alex!” He smiles on seeing me and I wonder if the cake was entirely necessary.

  Matt looks sullen on seeing me and the new guy perks up in interest and studies me.

  I nod to him and then approach Braden. “I need to change your bandages and your drip.” When his eyes drift to the paper bag, I’m trying my best to conceal, I sigh and put it on his bedside table. “I got this for you. It’s a slice of lemon cake from the bakery across the road. I overheard one of the nurses say that you weren’t taking all that well to the hospital food here.”

  He stares at the bag, his eyes widening before he slowly leans over. However, before he can even touch the bag, the other man grabs it first, grinning. “Alright! Cake! Now we’re talking!”

  I blink at this sudden change of events and watch Braden struggle. “Give that back, you little fucker! That’s mine!”

  The man ignores him, gesturing toward Matt. “Kid, you want some of it?”

  Braden is red in the face while he is completely disregarded. Matt just shakes his head. “I don’t want anything from her.”

  Braden’s face darkens but before I can react or he can say anything, the cake thief lifts his hand and slams it upside Matt’s head, making the youth stumble forward with a howl. His voice is cheerful. “Manners, brat.”

  Even as he’s stuffing the cake into his mouth, he winks at me. “Carson Black, the third musketeer.”

  I look from the furious Braden to the groaning Matt, and realize that Carson Black, despite his smiling demeanor, is probably a demon from hell.

  “Alexandra Jameson, right?” He watches me with sharp eyes, the tawny color of a lion's mane in the sunlight.

  I nod, mutely.

  “So, you’re the boss’s woman?”

  That gets a reaction out of me as I splutter. “W-What?”

  Matt scoffs. “More like charit—”

  He’s not allowed to finish his sentence as Carson grabs him by the back of his collar, that disturbingly cheerful smile never once leaving his lips. “You want to finish that sentence, runt?”

  Matt tries to both punch him and get out of his hold but Carson is clearly the stronger of the two and he looks livid at the younger man’s fruitless struggles. He reminds me of Damien in this instant, that teasing smirk on his lips as he taunts with his eyes alone.

  Brat or not, Matt looks ready to burst into tears and right now he looks like a young teenager, compared to all these fully grown men. My feet are moving of their own accord, my tone sharp. “That’s enough. Let him go.”

  I grab Matt by the arm and pull him toward me, before I step in front of him, protectively. “Stop bullying him. He’s just a kid.”

  I can feel that Matt is about to say something, and I snap. “Not a word.”

  He shuts up.


  Carson studies me with interest, sizing me up. “I was expecting a meek little thing.” He nods, approvingly. “But you’ll do.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Look, Mr. Black. This is a hospital not your personal playground. Take your fights outside.” I glance toward the empty bag in his hand, and remark. “And while you’re out there, be sure to pick up a replacement for the cake you just ate.”

  He grins, suddenly. “What if I say no?”

  I lift a brow. “Fine. I’ll just hand Damien the receipt.”

  “Cold-hearted woman.” He doesn’t look angry in the least.

  I give him a steady look. “I don’t joke about money, Mr. Black.”

  Then without letting him get another word in, I turn around and move to where Braden is laying. The man has a sulky expression on his face. “He ate my cake.”

  “He’s your friend,” I point out as I adjust his drip and check the amount to be administered. “I suggest you take it up with him.”

  He sneers at where Carson is fishing for crumbs in the bag. “Once a thief, always a thief.”

  Carson glances up, an amiable smile on his lips. “Want me to break your other arm? It’ll be a matching set. Consider it an early Christmas present.”

  The way Braden pales has me narrowing my eyes and I give Carson a cold look. “Hands off my patient.”

  Carson lifts his hands in the air and I know he is dangerous. Whereas Damien’s monster is restrained and it lurks behind his eyes, giving a sort of muted grace, Carson vibrates with violence. It’s as if he doesn’t quite know how to hide it quite yet.

  Sociopath, my brain whispers, and yet I don’t think that’s quite it.

  “Any broken limbs or damages and I will know who is responsible,” I say, warningly. He studies me, his head cocked like a dog, as if assessing how serious their master is about the rules.

  “I mean it,” I say through gritted teeth.

  He smiles again, a brilliant thing that should not have the hair on the back of my nape rising as they do. “Of course.”

  Matt is silent and as I turn around, I glimpse a purplish looking bruise peeking from the edge of the sleeve of his right arm.

  “What’s that?” I say.

  He suddenly hides his arm behind his back, his face flushing with bitter shame. “Nothing.”

  I don’t know how old he is but he looks so young that my heart goes out to him, despite what a nasty mouth he has. “Let me see it.”

  He takes a step back and something akin to alarm skitters over his pretty features. “No!”

  My tone is softer. “I won’t ask any questions.” My eyes haven’t missed Braden’s grim expression and the harsh light in Carson’s eyes as they look at Matt now.

  I approach him. “That looks painful. Please let me take a look.”

  My expression is calm and he studies me, warily, like a wounded animal would, and I repeat. “Not a single question. Just let me see if I can treat it.”

  I had been studying to become a doctor before I had elected to become a nurse. That is why it was so easy for me to tend to Damien as well.

  Matt looks reluctant before holding out his arm, and I grasp his wrist gently and push up the sleeve. I inhale a small intake of breath at the mottled bruises layered over each other as if they’ve had no reprieve. Some are an ugly red and white, most of them are black and blue.

  I have to press my lips together to keep in the questions which are attempting to spill out of me.

  “No broken skin which is good.” It’s a struggle to keep my tone brisk. “I’ll bring you an icepack.”

  “You don’t—” Whatever he’s about to say is stuck in his throat when I level him with a steady gaze. “Yes, I do.”

  I leave the room and return with a cold compress pack. “Just keep it pressed there. It’ll ease the pain.”

  I don’t linger for too long, aware of the way all three of them are now watching me, an open curiosity in their eyes, as if it’s unexpected for an outsider to show any one of them kindness.

  A wolf pack.

  I’m tired by the end of my shift and as I rest my feet in the waiting area I glance at the garlands of tinsel that someone hung up at some point today. Christmas is still two months away, but the decorations have already begun. I don’t think I’ll be in the mood to celebrate, the idea of getting drunk more and more appealing by the second. But, my fingers tap on the marble counter, a small Christmas tree would be nice. Maybe eggnog and an action movie, nothing family related. And I could order a pizza.

  My stomach rumbles at the thought of pizza.

  When was the last time I had pizza?

  I sigh and twirl the pen in my hand, between my fingers. These past few days, I’ve been more animated than I had since learning of my father’s cancer. My usually bubbly personality had become muted under the grief, as I became burdened under the pressures of paying back the money I had borrowed, trying to survive on what little was left after the interest payment and the rent. Two meals a day had become a luxury.

  That was why letting Damien stay hadn’t been such a difficult decision. I was already scraping rock bottom at that. And here was this strange man who handed me such a massive amount of money to let him stay a week. The reckless part of me, the girl who had once been known for her rash decisions who had always dismissed consequences with the bat of an eye, that girl had reared her head, and whispered. ‘What do you have to lose?’

  My little daredevil. My father had used to call me, with a mix of exasperation and affection. And yet, look at where his little daredevil is now, gambling with her safety to let a stranger stay in her apartment, a stranger who has trouble written all over him.

  “I’ll be fine,” I whisper to myself. I try to believe it.

  Annie and Mathilda have been busy, as has Jen, so none of them have had the chance to interrogate me about the rumors revolving around Dr. Greer. Or maybe it just hasn’t reached their ears yet.

  Either way I am relieved. I won’t know the first thing about explaining any of it.

  I’m yawning by the time my shift ends. I change out of my uniform and head toward the bus stop, wanting nothing more than a hot meal and then to fall flat on my face. My eyes take in the minimal Christmas ornaments outside the hospital. They’re just fairy lights for now but something new will be added every week if last year was any indication.

  I’m barely at the bus stop when I hear my name being called out and I look over my shoulder to see Carson running toward me at full speed, determination in his eyes. I don’t know what instinct overtakes me but my feet start moving in the opposite direction and then I’m running.

  “Why are you running?!” He’s covering the distance between us with ease and there is a wild delight in his eyes.

  “Why are you chasing me?” I growl over my shoulder, putting in more speed, feeling more and more like prey.

  “Because you’re running!”

  “You were running first!”

  Unfortunately, I am not fast enough for him and he falls into step with me, and I give him a bewildered look as he grins. “All right! Where are we running to?”

  My feet come to a halt and he stops as well, looking disappointed. “That’s it? I thought we were going somewhere.”

  I stare at him. “You’re a little crazy.”

  He gives me a wounded look. “That was unnecessary.”

  I open my mouth and then snap it shut. “Did you want something from me?”

  He scratches his head. “The boss said to give you a ride home.”

  “Boss? Damien?”

  He gives me a bright smile.

  “I don’t need a ride. I’ll take the bus.”

  He sighs, sticking his hands in his jacket pocket. “He said you might say that. Guess we’ll both take the bus.”

  I blink at him. “Why are you taking a bus? Don’t you have a car? You just offered me a ride.”

  He shrugs. “Boss’s orders.”

  “Why are you calling him that?” Because that’s really the relevant question here.

  “‘Cause he’s the boss.” He shrugs again. “So are we taking the bus?”

  “I’m taking the bus,” I correct him, testily. “You’re going somewhere else.”

  He doesn’t say anything but when I start walking, he’s right behind me. I stop and turn to glare at him. “Mr. Black, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making sure you get home, safely. The boss said—”