5. Jack
Jack
The blinding pain ripping through my skull is excruciating.
The pressure behind my eyes hasn’t dulled; not even with the medication they’re pumping into me, and all I can see is a thin sliver of light that forces its way through my swollen eyelids.
I lie there, trying to piece together everything that happened.
I remember the fight, Julian, and the heavy, brutal fists and knees he drove into my body.
I can even remember the exact second I knew I was screwed, the precise moment it went lights out when he caught me in a chokehold and wrapped his legs tight around me.
What I don’t remember is after that.
There are so many questions, and I know no one will line up to give me answers. How I ended up on the road, who dumped me there, who found me… all of it is blank.
I vaguely remember a woman’s voice and a man telling me to hold on, but beyond that, everything is a blank fog.
When I woke up in the ER, the nurse told me I was brought in a few hours before with a concussion, fractured and bruised ribs, and that the beating I had taken was severe, though I should be grateful it wasn’t life-threatening. She said I was lucky.
I don’t feel lucky. I feel sore, bruised.
And guilty.
I close my eyes, letting my head sink further into the pillow, and I sleep.
I have to be dreaming. The warmth of the hand wrapping around mine shouldn’t be there. But then I feel lips pressed gently against my knuckles, and a voice speaks—one I would know anywhere.
“Wake up, dove. Please wake up.”
Silas? I try to move my head toward him, moving before my brain can catch up and stop the movement.
“Jack?” he says quietly, and I feel his hand shift to my forehead. “Jack. Can you hear me?”
“Sol,” my raw, bruised throat causes his name to come out in a rough croak. I force my eyelids open as far as they will allow, and I see him. His tall frame stands over me, his face near mine, and I watch as he places a tender, lingering kiss on my forehead.
“Baby? I’m here. I’ve got you, I’m right here with you,” he says, his words carrying an underlying current of pure panic.
I nod, but don’t have the energy to speak.
“Is he awake?” a woman’s voice asks, as I hear her move around the bed to check my vitals.
“Well, hello. I’m just going to check your vitals again, Jack,” she says, taking my temperature. I watch as she frowns. “Needs to come up more,” she murmurs to herself.
She’s not wrong.
The warm fluids they’re pumping into me to try and warm my body clearly aren’t working quick enough, because I’m fucking freezing and I can’t stop my body from shivering.
“He’s going to be okay, though, right?” Silas asks her quietly, the tension in his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“We’re trying to bring his temp back up, but it isn’t coming up as quick as we would like. Outside of that, he’ll be fine,” she says, walking out the door.
His hand brushes against my forehead, and I lean into it without thinking. The comfort in that touch is the only thing my body can handle right now.
I still tense up out of old habit, but I’m learning, slowly, that Silas won’t hurt me.
I crack my eyes open again, just enough to see him leaning over me.
“Baby, I have an idea to get you warm,” he huffs a laugh, “I’ll probably get in trouble for it, but it’s worth a try if you’re okay with it,” he says, his warm breath brushing my cheek.
I’ll give anything a shot just to warm up, so I give him a nod.
“Okay.”
His smile is warm, and his voice drops low, settling something inside me. “Can you move over a bit, baby?” His eyes stay on mine, expectant and steady as he rises to his full height.
I try to shuffle, but my body barely cooperates, and I make it all of an inch before feeling strong arms slide under me, lifting me with such gentleness it makes my throat tighten.
Silas moves me just enough on the mattress, and then I hear shoes drop softly to the floor, and the quiet rustle of a jacket being tossed on the foot of the bed.
His solid body slides in right beside me, pressing flush against my side, his heat immediately burning against my skin. “I’ve got you, dove,” he whispers against my skin as he wraps his arm gently across my waist, and his warm face nuzzles into my neck, and he presses a light kiss to my skin.
Silas lets out a long sigh as he settles against me, and I start to feel his body heat immediately bleed into mine.
My battered body sinks into his warmth, and I close my eyes, finally drifting off to sleep, warm for the first time since waking up.
I wake later to an angry female voice and the other belonging to Silas, quiet and stubborn.
“Mr. Thorne, you need to get off the bed immediately. This is strictly against hospital policy,” the woman whisper-shouts at him.
“I’m not moving. He’s finally warm, so I’m staying right where I am,” Silas replies, his tone flat, but I know it’s not up for discussion. She isn’t going to win.
“I’ll have security remove you,” she threatens him. I can feel her anger as she wraps the blood pressure band around my arm, and I wince at her movements.
Silas notices. “Careful,” he rumbles, his voice dangerously gruff.
“You shouldn’t be there,” she whispers at him. “I will have you removed.”
“I’m staying right where I am. This is the first time he’s been warm, and I’m not moving,” he says, his tone full of authority.
My attempt to croak out stop doesn’t come out the way I want it to, sounding more like a grunt than the word, and my hand tightens on Silas’s arm, making my desire for him to stay clear.
I force my eyes open, my fingers wrapping tighter around Silas’s arm. With every bit of strength I can scrape together, I look at the nurse. “Warm,” I rasp, my voice a little stronger this time. “Please… stay.”
The nurse lets out an exasperated huff. “Fine, but I didn’t see this. Do you understand me, Mr. Thorne?”
Silas chuckles, low and warm, his lips brushing against my neck as he settles back into me.
“I’ve got you, dove,” he whispers against my skin as my hand stays firmly over his arm where it rests across my waist, and I let out a deep sigh as I lean my head against his and close my eyes.
* * *
Two days later, the swelling in my eyes has decreased so I can see Silas clearer now.
I’ve met the doctor, who keeps telling me how lucky I am. He gave me a lecture about how dangerous fighting is—yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Smart guy, that doctor. I told him as much, too.
He’d purposely waited until Silas wasn’t in the room to voice his opinion and then proceeded to scold me like a child. Silas had walked in on the last few words, catching the tail end of the doctor lecturing me.
He didn’t hesitate, telling him, and I quote: “Get the fuck out before I throw you out the window.”
The doctor damn near ran out the door.
Now, Silas sits with his huge frame somehow folded into the small hospital chair, tapping away at his laptop balanced on his knee. I grunt, getting his attention, and motion with my head to the screen.
He glances toward the closed door, then looks back at me with a sly, smug smile.
“Removing Reid’s footprint. When he flew me here, he landed his helicopter in the hospital car park. Authorities are sniffing around him, so I’m wiping anything that leads back to his door. Deletion’s a beautiful thing, dove.” He winks at me and then turns back to his keyboard.
He says it so simply, as if hacking into government databases and deleting information is just another day for Silas. Watching him, I wonder what else he does on that laptop.
As I lay here, I watch him. The man is gorgeous; his long black hair is tied in a bun.
His tattoos peek out from under his sleeves and collar.
His hands move across the keyboard so quickly they almost blur, and the tattooed ink of skeletal bones on his fingers makes them look even longer as they reach for each key.
So damn beautiful… he’s beautiful.
My eyes catch on the beads woven into one of his wristbands, the one that sits wrapped firmly around his wrist. I asked him about them once.
Aside from the spare hair tie he always keeps ready, he told me each leather band represents a different country he fought in.
There are about fifteen of them, all leather, all different colors.
But there is one that matters more than the rest. The one with the tiny red and green beads threaded through the braid. He told me a little girl in a village they were staying in had made it for him. She had seen the others on his wrist and wanted him to have one of hers.
It is his most precious band of all.
Silas must feel me staring, because he looks up and smiles warmly when he catches me watching. He sets his laptop at the foot of the bed, stands, and takes the two steps over to me. He reaches for my face, but right before his hand makes contact, he pauses, his eyes asking for permission.
I give him a small nod, and his warm hand rests against my face. I turn into it, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.
“Thank you for…” My voice catches on the last word, still rough, my throat painful, but at least he can understand me now. “…coming.” I look at him. “I’m sorry.”
He looks at me for a beat, then says quietly, “I know, dove. I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I’m glad you gave them my name.” His thumb brushes my cheek, gentle. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”
I nod and close my eyes. We will. Just not right now.
* * *
A week later, we’re pulling into Silas’s driveway, and I’m exhausted, desperate for bed.
Reid had flown over and picked us up. According to Silas, he’d sulked and may have thrown a shit fit when CJ told him he wasn’t allowed to land in the hospital car park again.
So, we had caught a cab to the heliport, and Reid had complained the whole way home, calling CJ, Captain No-Fun and the Vibe Assassin.
Silas’s truck was still parked at Reid’s base, so it worked out well.