His long strides reached me in seconds and I kept my eyes on him, afraid if I closed them, he’d disappear.
“Sir, she was violent and we—”
“What the fuck did you give her?” Deck put his hand on my arm, and with one pull, he ripped off the tape holding the catheter and tossed it aside. He leaned over and I heard the sleek sound of the knife pulled from its leather case.
“It was a mild sedative, but you can’t—”
He interrupted the nurse by saying nothing, merely giving her a hard glare. There was no fear with Deck. He didn’t think about the consequences; instead, he reacted to his instinct and didn’t back down from doing what he thought was best. It was one of the things I loved about him.
“Deck,” I cried.
“Yeah, baby.” He cut the straps on my wrists with one quick movement.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say, because it was all I had.
Deck never said a word as he lifted me into his arms. My head fell against his shoulder, too weak to hold upright as the sedation took effect. Arms tight around me, a rag doll hanging limp in his hard, familiar arms.
I noticed he never looked at me.
He strode from the room, but I could hear running footsteps coming toward us.
“Mr. Ryan.” Deck’s arms tightened, but his stride never faltered as the doctor’s voice cut through the air following us.
“Mr. Ryan, she can’t leave. It’s the middle of the night. We haven’t discharged her—”
“Georgie, can you sit?” I sighed as a wave of comfort settled over me at the familiar sound of his voice.
I nodded.
He set me in one of the orange plastic chairs against the wall, his hands lingering on my hips as if making sure I was steady. Then he let me go and faced the doctor.
I saw the cold, piercing stare as he slowly pulled his gun from the holster. I could hear the click of the hammer and then the doc’s fumbling words as he put his hands up and stepped back. I also heard several gasps from the nurses.
“Whoa. You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever the hell I want. I’m the one with the gun.”
“The police have been called …” I heard the shakiness in his voice and his eyes never left the barrel of the gun.
Deck took out his phone, pressed a few numbers and put it to his ear while he kept his gun on the doctor. “Call our guy. Tell him the incident at the hospital is me taking my girl home.” He paused. “Tell him I’m her emergency contact and she wants to leave. He can call me and verify if he needs to.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket, taking two steps to reach the doctor who still had his hands up with his back to the wall. Deck slid his gun back in his holster then got right in his face.
I couldn’t see Deck’s face, but just the way he held himself was intimidating. The doc’s eyes were like dinner plates and his skin was solid white.
“If she tells me anything else happened here that I don’t like, I’m coming back for you.”
Deck walked to me, picked me up, cradled me in his arms then strode down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button.
I SAW TYLER—well, a blurred form of Tyler—waiting by the car, arms crossed, leaning back against it, his face pensive. “Jesus. What the fuck?” Tyler opened the car door and Deck gently lowered me onto the leather front seat. “Drugged?”
“Sedated,” Deck said.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Tyler, leave it.” It was an abrupt order, and I could tell from his lowered brows and pursed lips he was barely holding control. By Tyler’s nod and his glance at me, he got that.
He grabbed the seat belt and began to pull it across my lap. I shook my head. “No.”
Deck’s eyes closed for a brief moment then he let the seatbelt go, straightened and shut the door. He turned and spoke to Tyler, although I couldn’t hear him. Tyler nodded, looked at me then hopped in the back seat, the phone to his ear.
I watched Deck’s tall, lean form walk around the front of the car. Every muscle flexed, fury pulsating off him. He was like a time bomb, quiet and patient, but the tick, tick, and tick was a reminder that eventually there would be an explosion.
The car door slammed and he started the engine. Stray pebbles scattered beneath the tires as he drove. The radio was off. Tyler was silent and even the subtle sound of breathing seemed offensive to the tension in the car. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the side window at the whoosh of cars speeding by in the opposite direction.
I felt like a guppy floundering in a sea of sharks, always trying to escape from something. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore. The path I’d drawn for myself always seemed so clear, but suddenly … suddenly, it was all fucked up.
“What happened?”
I jerked at the sound of Deck’s harsh voice breaking the silence and then a rush of comfort settled over me. He always had that effect, as if I was cocooned in his protective warmth. In the beginning when he came back, I tried to escape it, fighting him, but I was only fighting myself. Deck was part of me whether it was right or wrong, good or bad. He lived in me, and I’d do anything to keep that part of me alive.
His voice cut through my thoughts. “What happened?”
“I … I had a bad dream.”
“It was more than that.” A statement.
I nodded. It was my past coming back to find me. After the purging, the memories flooded me, but normally, I was home alone for a few days where no one could see me as my mind and body healed.