Savage Read online

  I’ve had my share of one-night stands with mentally unstable members of the opposite sex and I have no inclination to return there again any time soon. I can’t do clingy, crazy or any other number of C-starting words that no doubt define Lexi Shane.

  And yet you know her last name.

  Luckily, she’s half out of her mind. Despite my intense, certainly unwelcome attraction to her, it’s not even an option to indulge. That said, I know enough about her to know she’s babbling far more than usual—not that I make a habit of knowing how she usually talks.

  It’s a sign she needs a doctor, not my dick.

  As if to reinforce the fact, she reaches across the cabin and starts to pet my beard. “Wow! It’s like… silky,” she exclaims. She strokes it. “So soft.”

  I take out my cell and try nine-one-one again, but it’s no use. I try again, but my phone dies.

  Just. Fucking. Great.

  I let it drop to the floor.

  Lexi rocks back to her side, her head continuing to sway, her words distant and drunk. “You know, you’re not supposed to be out this way at this time of night.”

  I look across surprised. “Is that a fact?”

  She nods, her chin tapping against her chest and eyes fluttering open and closed. “Friday nights you’re usually watching a game at home, probably football, feet up on that crappy coffee table of yours and throwing back a beer… or five.”

  The scary thing is, she’s right.

  She rocks forward and starts stabbing at the radio. “You got any tunes in here?” she drawls, prodding aimlessly at the buttons.

  She sits back and starts clapping her hands together. “Oo, Oo, what about that hippie Australian singer you like? What’s his name?” She taps her head. “Ziggy Alberts, right? Love Me Now—Great track.”

  Now, she’s really freaking me the fuck out. I knew she wanted me, but this is fast approaching stalker territory. I’m alarmed she knows so much about me and, if I’m being honest, perhaps a little flattered, too.

  She reaches for the door for support, eyes darting around the cabin. She needs that doctor, and now.

  “I never see you at Gracie’s,” she says. “You know they have Cascade on tap there, right?”

  The fact she knows what I like to drink only makes this more disturbing. What next? The name of the girl I lost my virginity to?

  “Who knows?” she says, throwing up her arms. “You might even bump into me there, being lonely, hanging out…”

  I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “How about we get you to the hospital first, huh?”

  *

  Lexi’s condition has deteriorated by the time we reach the hospital. Gone is the whimsical babble. She can barely stand.

  I hold her up as best I can. There’s not a lot of action in these parts, so the staff are on us as soon as we’re through the doors. Two nurses come forward, a doctor flanking them on the right.

  I’m hit with countless questions, doing my best to answer them as everyone shuffles towards the rear of the small emergency ward. Somehow, I find myself being swept up in the shuffle and soon in the triage room with everyone else, Lexi being carefully placed onto an examination table.

  God damn it’s bright in here.

  The last time I was in a hospital was in LA after my mother got high and hit a minivan, killing the suburban mom at the wheel in front of her children and fatally injuring herself. Agreeing to take her off life support isn’t something I want to go through ever again.

  The doctor’s looking at the wound on Lexi’s head. “Okay, Lexi. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  That brings her back to life. She starts to ramble on again, reaching for the cuff of the nearest nurse and drawing her close like she’s about to spill a schoolyard secret. She’s trying to whisper but not exactly doing a good job of it. The whole room can hear her.

  I stand at the back against the wall, looking in.

  The first nurse injects something into her arm, what I imagine is morphine or a sedative.

  “Your medical history, love,” the second nurse says. “Can you tell us about that? Do you have any allergies? Are you taking any medication, drugs? Is there any family history of congenital conditions?”

  Lexi’s focus changes. She becomes quiet, almost introspective. She looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t know any of my family history. I’m an orphan.”

  I push off the wall.

  Orphan?

  That’s not what I’ve heard her telling people around when they ask about her background.

  Maybe she’s embarrassed? I consider.

  Or maybe she’s hiding something. That seems like the more plausible option.

  I start to regard her with further suspicion as the doctor begins cleaning the wound. In a way I feel vindicated, my gut and instinct still sharp, but in another sense I’m concerned. Why lie? What is she hiding?

  Although… of all the things to be keeping guarded, perhaps being an orphan isn’t exactly something I should be holding against her.

  I snap out of it, listening as Lexi’s answers become increasingly more bizarre now the drugs are taking hold.

  The doctor barks out a series of instructions and loose acronyms, leaving the room.

  The nurses help Lexi stand. “Let’s get you ready for the CAT scan, dear.” One of the nurses smiles towards me. “Your boyfriend is right here, don’t worry.”

  I should protest, correct her, but for some reason I remain fixed to the spot as they remove her coat and shirt, her shoes and jeans stripped away in quick succession.

  Lexi stands there in her underwear—lacy, carmine-red boyshorts and matching bra. I can’t help it. I start to get hard, aroused by the sight of her smooth skin and full breasts, the way her stomach dips ever so slightly before the waistband of her panties.

  What the fuck are you doing?

  Shame drowns it out. She’s barely lucid and here I am ogling her like a fucking pervert.

  I mutter an excuse and leave the room quickly, quietly scalding myself as I make my way down the corridor.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LEXI

  I look up and find white. Everything is so freakin’ white around here. And then it hits me.

  This is not where I left the car.

  I try to sit up, but there’s a persistent pain in my side and my head still feels like a marble factory. The crash starts to come back to me… and Dex…

  Why Dex?

  “Good morning.” A doctor is standing in the doorway with a clipboard in hand looking far too cheery given my state of mind. He approaches the bed smiling. “I’m Doctor Norris. You were in a car accident last night. Do you remember?”

  I’m not entirely sure, but something tells me I might have been a touch loose with information last night. I’m pretty sure I commented on Dex’s taste in music—hopefully not his taste in women. I can’t help but blush at the thought. “I… remember a deer, I think, and that’s where it starts to get fuzzy.”

  Doctor Norris writes something down before smiling back down to me. “Well, you’re very lucky your boyfriend brought you in.”

  If only.

  I consider correcting him, but every time I talk the pain flares up down my side.

  “You have a cracked rib and a mild concussion, but apart from that you’re in remarkably good shape considering. You’re very lucky,”

  I breathe out slow and shallow. Praise be.

  God, what did Dex see, or hear? If I told him about my identity, my cover, it’s all over.

  The doctor nods to the bedside table where a juice and water sit next to a slice of toast that looks like it has the consistency of cardboard. “Have something to eat and drink, and then we’ll get you checked out.”

  “Checked out?” I stammer.

  “Sure,” the Doctor replies, “unless, that is, you like bad food and spotty TV reception.”

  I force a smile. “Thank you.”

  “Press the button there when you’re ready and the nur
se on duty will take care of the paperwork with you.”

  I sip at the juice and take a few bites of the toast, but I’m hardly in the mood for either. I’m too concerned about what the hell went down last night.

  Pity it wasn’t Dex.

  As sensual as oral sex after a car crash sounds, I doubt his thoughts were on anything but my wellbeing.

  A nurse arrives in short time. “Your ride is here, dear.”

  The pain in my side has subsided a bit, but I’m too scared to look under my gown at the giant bruise I know I’ll find. “My ride?” I ask, mouth dry.

  “Jasper, I believe. Get dressed and I’ll see you out.”

  I wince swinging myself out of bed. It takes me a solid five minutes to get my clothes back on. It’s like someone’s pulled my processor out and I’m working at half speed.

  I notice Dex’s name on the paperwork. He signed me into the ER.

  “Lexi, there you are.”

  Jasper rushes across the foyer to meet me, looking me up and down. “Are you alright? Dex called in the middle of the night and said you’d been in an accident? Something about a concussion?”

  “Yeah.” I nod, wishing the ground would open up and suck me away, “It was stupid. This deer jumped out, I swerved, which I know is the wrong thing to do…”

  Jasper places his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already got the boys down there towing your car. It’s in bad shape, but Bobby down at the shop can work wonders, even on an ugly khaki Corolla.”

  “Don’t let Joe hear you calling him that.”

  It was the only used car I could find when I arrived here in Tamanass. ‘GI Joe’ seemed fitting given the color scheme.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jasper smiles.

  Of all the Rangers, he’s been my favorite since the start. He’s got a tempered, softly spoken personality that calms even in the most serious of situations, plus he’s a genuinely nice guy—perhaps the last left on the entire planet. Sadly, he’s not my type.

  No, no, no. You picked the man whore going through girls like Kleenex.

  “Thank you,” I reply, “but don’t you have more important things to do?”

  Jasper acts offended, stepping back. “You’re genuinely surprised I’m here, aren’t you? We’ve worked together for, what? Three years now? We’re basically family.”

  That gets me right in the feels, but I push it away and focus on the pain instead, shifting to my other foot to take the weight off my ribs.

  I realize it’s the guilt, too, slowly eating away at me for deceiving Jasper all this time. His concern for me is real and here I am pretending to be someone I’m not. This would be nothing normally. I’d shrug it off and continue on my day, but the family remark hits close to home.

  “Look,” he says, “I’m going to insist you take a couple of days off. You need to rest up and get healthy.”

  “I couldn’t possibly--”

  He puts his hand up, shaking his head. “It’s not up for debate. Rest. Recover.”

  I’m too tired to argue.

  *

  Every bump and pothole sends a sharp pulse of pain right to my ribs. By the time we arrive at my apartment I’m pretty sure Jasper’s not running suspension at all in that truck of his.

  The door to my apartment is open, Geena waiting inside.

  She runs forward and embraces me, drawing a sharp intake of breath.

  She reels back when I wince. “Damn, sorry! I forgot you’re all invalid and stuff now.”

  I wag my finger, trying to breathe. “I can still slap you silly, don’t worry.”

  “I’m here to help, you idiot.”

  “It’s alright, Geena,” I tell her. “I can look after myself.”

  “Wiping your ass is off the table, but for all your domestic needs, here I am,” she replies, holding her belly, “and that’s the end of the story.”

  “I forgot to bring a bell,” I tease.

  “Good,” she laughs, “because I’d throw it right out the window. Now, let’s get you fed. You look like a prop from a creature feature.”

  “Thanks,” I laugh back, but the sarcasm is a mask, because I’m genuinely thankful I have people who care about me enough to take time out of their lives to come to my aid. It’s a strange, warm feeling, as alien to me as the woods outside.

  And it’s only going to make seeing Dex again all the more awkward.

  *

  I protested vehemently I didn’t want to be fussed over, but Geena is in full-on mother duck mode. She’s got me rugged up on the couch with possibly every pillow I own behind me, a cup of chamomile tea on the coffee table she knows I’m not going to drink.

  Whatever she’s got going in kitchen, though, it does smell amazing. My throat’s still scratchy when I speak. “Either you’re working wonders with the one can of tomato soup I had in the pantry or you did the groceries.”

  “Gordon Ramsey, eat your fucking heart out,” she replies with enthusiasm.

  “At least you got the swearing part down.”

  “Relax, baby,” she calls back, “I’ve got this.”

  Relax.

  I’d love to, but every shift in position drives another knife into my ribs, and then there’s the whole Dex-saved-my-life thing.

  So where is he now? my head retorts.

  It’s been two days since I left the hospital and he hasn’t called or texted or shown up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s avoiding me. Sure, I could pick up the phone myself, thank him for his heroic act, but for some odd reason I can’t bring myself to do it in fear of what I might have said half-lucid and babbling away like a madwoman… with a gash on her head… hardly able to stand.

  How much you want to gobble down that pretty cock of his, most likely, my head fills.

  “Voila!” Geena arrives with two steaming plates, placing them down and helping me up into a sitting position.

  I breathe in. “Mmmm. God damn that smells delicious.”

  She extends a hand towards the plates. “My own vegan take on mac and cheese with crispy kale and bacon bits.”

  I eye her. “You do realize bacon isn’t vegan, right?”

  “Sure,” she replies, completely unbothered. “But it’s bland as hell without it.”

  I have to laugh at that, at Geena’s view of the world. I wish I could be as carefree as she is, running through life with limitless energy and passion. She doesn’t care she’s holed up here in Tamanass. She’s making the most of it.

  I dig in, surprisingly hungry today. For a vegan/non-vegan mac-n-cheese mash-up, it’s pretty darn excellent, but then Geena’s always been a great cook, and friend.

  Geena smacks her lips at the TV, where a young Heath Ledger is courting an equally young Julia Stiles in 10 Things I Hate About You. “What a pity.”

  We’re working our way through what Geena is calling the ‘A-to-Z of rom-coms’, starting with the numeral-based movies like 50 First Dates and 27 Dresses.

  I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to be a soppy, wet mess by the time we hit ‘Z’. I might be a cold-hearted corporate spy, but rom coms get the waterworks cranking every single time.

  As for Joe, the local mechanic called earlier on Jasper’s orders and informed me the Corolla took quite a beating, as will my credit card when the repair bill comes in. It’s a good thing Ian is paying.

  At his name guilt knots further inside my stomach. Everyone is helping me here, the very people I’m deceiving, and for what? For money? Am I really that shallow?

  But I learnt a long time ago to sift out my emotions when it comes to business. They have no place there. They can be dangerous, which only makes my attraction to Dex completely and utterly infuriating. I wish he’d just flip me over the front of his truck and have his wicked way with me so I can get the hell on with things.

  Geena collects the plates when she’s finished and heads back down to the kitchen, reappearing beside me with her handbag, her boobs in place, and cherry lipstick applied. S
he’s always reminded me of one of those calendar girls you see pinned up at trucker stops with names like, well, Geena. “I’ve got to get to work. Are you going to be okay?”

  I nod towards the media box under the TV. “Still got A-Z to go. I think I’ll be fine.”

  Geena takes me in with a mild sweep of concern. “There’s extra mac-and-cheese in the fridge, some of that zucchini slice from yesterday and chocolate, so much chocolate.”

  “Thank you, Geena.” I mean it sincerely, even letting my accent dip for a moment.

  “Any time, girlfriend,” she beams. “Just remember this when I break my leg or vagina or something.”

  I laugh, giving a short salute, as much as my ribs will allow. “Will do.”

  The front door closes shut and I’m left with Heath, Julia, and my own, muddled thoughts.

  I close my eyes, but every time I do Dex is there, his shirt off, his cut abs begging for my touch. And yep, there go the pants, his glorious cock at full mast, a smirk on his face that says he could take me any which way he wants.

  I pound my fists into the sofa. “I’m an invalid,” I say aloud, “how the hell can I be horny right now?”

  ‘What is it with this chick?’ replies Heath from the TV. ‘She have beer-flavored nipples?’

  I wish. Maybe then I’d see some kind of action.

  It’s not long before I’ve drifted off to sleep thanks to the cocktail of painkillers I’m taking.

  I wake groggy and light-headed, Heath long gone from the TV.

  Out of nowhere, quick bursts of what happened after the car crash come to me, sliding through my head one after the other.

  There’s Dex looking through the window, helping me stand up…

  I remember stroking his beard in the truck. Why the hell was I doing that?

  I blush, my cheeks hot. I told him stuff about himself, stuff that’s going to make me sound at best a completely sex-starved idiot and at worse an actual, bona-fide stalker.

  But the most vivid memory is how it felt when he carried me to his truck, his strong hands firm and reassuring under my back, my thighs…

  It’s with a great deal of effort I manage to pull myself upwards, sitting there in the dark, only the light from the TV illuminating the room.