Chapter 1
He Got My Purse
Sadie
Oh my God, I hope I wasn’t drooling. Rebel is by far the hottest man I’ve ever seen. His tousled blond curls and crystal-clear blue eyes are fantastic, but his hard, toned body rivals Adonis himself. Even injured, he’s a force to be reckoned with. He’s ornery and ill-tempered, but, as Falcon explained, Rebel’s not used to being laid up.
“He’s usually active, and being bedridden is a sign of weakness,”
Falcon told me when I took the job.
The way I saw it, a job is a job. Falcon pays extremely well, and with my college loans so close to being paid off, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel coming that much quicker. Three more payments and I’m done. Then I can start saving for a better apartment. My place is cute, but it’s tiny, and the neighborhood is questionable after hours. Being a nurse, I can come home at all hours depending on my shifts.
I’ve been working with this independent agency for the last few months, and the money is great, but eventually, I want to be an emergency room operating nurse. It’s what I went to school for and where I think I could be most useful. I’ve had a couple of interviews with the local hospitals, and I’m waiting to hear back.
I strip the bed and put on fresh sheets, throwing the dirty ones into the washing machine to get them started. I know I don’t have to, but I hate leaving things undone. I didn’t have to make Rebel lunch either, but how often can Rebel eat canned soup or a roast beef sandwich?
Rebel caught me by surprise when I turned around and found him leaning against the doorframe. With his pajama pants hanging low on his hips, and despite his torso being covered in a bandage, I can see his pronounced abs and massive chest and arms. I’ve been trying so hard not to make a fool out of myself and was so proud of my discipline, up until that moment.
By the end of this week, Rebel should be well enough not to need daily care, and I won’t be needed anymore. Three more days, I keep telling myself, and when I do, there’s a feeling of both relief and sadness.
When I first started looking after Rebel, he slept more than he was awake. His body needed that time to recuperate. I would watch as he slept, my fingers itching to sink into his blond hair to feel its softness. As he got better, he became grumpy. I ignored it because he isn’t my first cantankerous patient, and it’s normal to be out of sorts when recovering.
Falcon told me he was shot in the line of duty, and, based on the steady flow of visitors, I would say Rebel’s a lucky man to have so many people who love him, which means he’s probably a good guy.
By the time I get back to the family room, Rebel is napping on the couch. I carefully prop a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. Then I quietly go about cleaning the dishes, happy that he ate everything on his plate.
Rebel thinks he’s healed; however, a gunshot wound is serious, and his body has been through trauma. Rest is good. He needs it. Rebel pushes himself too hard. He tried to get up on his own that first day I was looking after him and nearly fell getting out of bed. I reached out and was able to steady him before sitting him back down on the bed. He hated it!
Later that evening…
It’s getting late, and Falcon’s not home yet. Our deal was that I’d wait until he got back before I left. Rebel’s doing great, but Falcon left explicit instructions, and he’s the one who’s footing the bill. I can’t afford to have him complain to my bosses. I need this job, and I haven’t heard from the hospitals yet.
“I’m perfectly fine. You can go,”
Rebel says. After his nap, he decided to stay on the couch and binge every sports event on television. I sat quietly in the armchair with him, enjoying the afternoon. It’s been a long time since I spent the afternoon watching a football game, then a hockey game, followed by the highlight reels. This reminds me of times with my dad. Even now, on the rare occasions I have time off when a game is on, I call Dad, and we talk and watch the games together.
“I made a promise, and I intend to keep it,”
I tell Rebel.
“I’m a grown man. Falcon’s being ridiculous,”
Rebel grumbles under his breath.
“He’s only doing all this because he cares,”
I reply. “I’d quit bitching if I were you. Falcon is concerned, and I overheard your friends talking when they first brought you home. The guys refused to leave your side, and their girlfriends cried for you. If it gives them peace of mind to have me stay, then what harm does it do you?”
Guilt is apparent on his face. Before he can say anything, the key turns in the lock and Falcon comes in. He looks from Rebel to me, then settles on his friend. “Sorry I’m late. We were reviewing a file, and it went later than I thought.”
He then turns to me. “I’ve got this if you want to get going. It’s late. Take a taxi home.”
He comes over to me and hands me a fifty-dollar bill.
“Oh no, I can’t take that.”
I shake my head, slipping on my sweater and grabbing my knapsack.
“Take it.”
Falcon pulls up my hand and puts the money in my palm. “See you tomorrow.”
I look at the money, then into Falcon’s eyes. “Thank you.”
As I ride down the elevator, I contemplate taking the bus as I’ve done all this time. I could pocket the money and splurge on new scrubs. I’ve been putting off that expense until my next paycheck, but this would be a nice way of saving some money.
It’s a fifteen-minute walk to the bus stop from the Storm offices where Falcon lives. He built his private apartment attached to the offices because he’s that kind of guy. Falcon is intense and takes his work seriously. You can tell that Rebel and the other members of the team respect him and he’s the leader of the crew.
I have to admit, walking out at this hour of the night is eerie, but I can see the bus stop up ahead, and after googling the bus route, I know that the bus is due to arrive in a few minutes. As I check my watch, I barely notice a shadowy figure rushing up on my left.
Ten o’clock the next morning…
I have every right to cry, I tell myself as I sob into my pillow. After all, I’ve been mugged, beaten, and bruised, and worst of all, they got my purse. Good news, they only got the fifty bucks Falcon gave me and a broken purse. I refused to let go, and the thief had to rip it out of my hands. Another lucky moment was when the bus pulled up and the driver scared off the goon before he could do any more damage.
The bus driver insisted on taking me to the hospital, but I already knew the extent of my injuries. Short of wrapping my ribs and cleaning the cut on my forehead, there wasn’t much more they could do. Dr. Simms wanted to keep me overnight, but I just wanted to go home. The doctor was afraid I had a concussion, but I told them I felt fine. I promised I’d come right back if I my headache got any worse. Of course, the police came to the hospital and took my statement, which reminds me that I still need to go to the station to look at mug shots to see if I can point out the mugger out of a million photos.
With all this on my mind, what upsets me most is knowing I’m not going to make it to Rebel’s today. It’s not for lack of trying. I made it as far as getting dressed, but I couldn’t make it out the door. The toughest moment was calling the agency to have a replacement go in my place.
The owner of Nurses on Call, Henrietta, was wonderful and wanted to come over herself to look after me, but I told her I was doing fine and wanted to be alone. I should have taken a cab or an Uber, like Falcon said.
Rebel
She’s fucking late! Sadie’s never late. As a matter of fact, she’s always annoyingly on time. Sadie takes pride in her work and takes her job seriously, so when the doorbell doesn’t ding on schedule, I know something’s wrong.
I walk out to find Falcon on his cell phone. He’s looking down at his boots, and I can sense there’s something wrong.
“Right. Yeah,”
he responds to whomever he’s speaking with. “How is she?”
I hear him ask, and I feel a pang in my chest. It’s Sadie, I’m sure of it. “Rebel won’t want anyone else.” There’s a pause and he says, “Don’t bother. Do you know if they caught the guy?”
Suddenly, I feel nauseated. I must have made a noise because Falcon turns to see me standing nearby.
“Shit!”
Falcon mumbles under his breath. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch,”
he says into the phone, then promptly hangs up.
“Where’s Sadie? What happened?”
I demand, my hands fisting by my sides.
Falcon lets out a heavy sigh, rakes his fingers through his hair, then puts his hands on his hips. “I’m going to give it to you straight. Sadie was attacked last night.”
I cut him off right there. “Take me to her,”
I bark, turning to head toward the front door.
“Rebel, you’re still recovering,”
he says, putting his hand on my shoulder.
I stare him down. “Either you take me, or I’ll find my own way.”
Falcon sees that I won’t be swayed and grabs his jacket and hands me mine. “Look, you’d better keep your cool when you see her. From what I’ve been told, Sadie was released from the hospital, but only because she insisted. The doctor wanted to keep her overnight, and she refused.”
“Just take me to her,”
I insist. My body aches, but nothing is going to stop me from seeing Sadie.
On the way, Falcon calls Wire to let him know he won’t be in for a while and gives him the short version about Sadie’s situation. I jump into the conversation and ask, “Are there street cameras near the bus stop? What do the cops know?”
“Christ, Rebel! I’m just hearing about this now. I’ll check with our contact on the force to see if they can fill me in,”
Wire says. “As for the cameras, it’s unlikely, but I’ll see what I can do.”
When we pull up to Sadie’s apartment building, I already know that this isn’t the greatest neighborhood. The building itself is old, and the elevator doesn’t work. Having to walk up three flights of stairs tests my endurance, but still, I realize I’m getting better. All thanks to Sadie and how well she’s taken care of me.
I rap my knuckles loudly on her door. I hear Sadie shuffling, and with a low moan, she says, “Coming.”
She asks faintly, “Who is it?”
“Rebel. Open the door, Sadie.”
I hear the latch coming undone and the turning of the lock, then the door slowly creaks open, revealing Sadie in a powder-blue robe and oversized, light pink pajamas. Her eyes are red and puffy, but it’s the bruising around her cheek and eye that I see first. Then I do a scan of the rest of her. There’s a bandage on her forehead, and she’s clutching her ribs.
“What— What are you doing here?”
Her voice trembles. I’m furious. The fucker did a number on her, and she’s trying so hard to be brave.
I can’t find the words I want to say because I’m so angry, and anything I say is going to come out wrong. But Falcon has no problem and speaks for both of us, “We were worried, Sadie. When we got the call, Rebel insisted on coming over to check on you.”
“I…I’m okay,”
she replies, unsteady on her feet, holding on tighter to the doorknob. I can’t help myself and take her free hand, tugging her toward me and enveloping her in my arms to hold her to me. Instantly, Sadie begins to cry. I shuffle us both over to her tiny sofa. In between sobs, she says, “He got my purse. I held on for as long as I could, but he got my purse.”
When her crying subsides, she tells us how the man came at her from behind, threw her down, and fought with her for her purse. Sadie wouldn’t let go until the guy punched her several times and kicked her repeatedly.
“Babe, you should have given him the purse,”
I tell her softly, stroking her hair.
She lifts her head from where her cheek is lying on my chest. “It had the fifty dollars Falcon gave me. I was going to use it to buy new scrubs,”
she says innocently. She lays her head back on my chest, and I look at Falcon. He has an incredulous expression on his face, probably thinking the same thing I am, which is why would she risk her life over fifty dollars?