Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
TANK
I groaned as the hand around my bicep squeezed tighter. Whoever the fuck was trying to get my attention had it.
It took far too much energy to force my eyes open.
I immediately looked at my arm, ready to bitch out whoever was being overzealous, only to find that it wasn't a person.
It was a fucking blood pressure cuff.
Why did I have a blood pressure cuff strapped to my arm?
Following the trail of cords, I saw that it was actually hooked up to a machine. Said machine looked like the kind you find in a hospital.
The more awake I became, the more I realized that's exactly where I was.
I was in a hospital bed with no memory of how I got here.
What was I doing?
How did I get hurt?
Before I could dig too deep into my thoughts, a man rounded the corner. He grinned once he saw me.
“Oh good! I see you finally came around. How are you feeling?”
I shook my head, then stopped as pain radiated through my skull.
“What happened?” I asked the doctor.
He grabbed the clipboard on the end of the bed and started flipping through it. With a click of his pen, he began making notes. He didn’t look up at me but was obviously waiting me out for some reason.
Once he was done, he placed it back down and stared at me solemnly.
“You know, I would love to be able to answer that for you, but we don't know. You were dumped outside the emergency room entrance and unfortunately, the camera feeds were glitching at that exact moment. I mean, how does that happen?” His voice was laced with sarcasm.
I could recognize it even if I didn't know him personally.
“Are you saying you don't know how I got here or what happened to me?”
His hands moved to his hips. “I can't say I know how you got here or what exactly happened, but I can tell you that you do have a pretty serious concussion, and you’ve been with us for forty-eight hours. No one has come looking for you, and you didn’t have any type of identification on you. The only thing was a piece of paper that was taped to your chest.”
I frowned because the fact that he didn't know who I was was bad, because I suddenly realized I didn't know who I was either.
I cleared my throat. That only made the dryness there worse.
The doctor handed me a cup of water from the table beside him. I took a sip through the small straw and licked my lips. Once I felt better, I spoke up again.
“You don't know who I am or anything?” I asked cautiously.
"No, sir, I'm afraid we don't know. We have you listed as the John Doe for now. Can you tell me your name?"
I tilted my head slightly. “I would have told you had I known.”
"I see,” he replied. “Then I guess we just need to keep an eye on you to make sure everything else is good to go. You had some bruising along your ribs and back. Whatever happened to you, you took a heavy beating.”
Flashes of memory moved through my mind. Shadowy figures and words I can't make sense of. I closed my eyes tight to fight against the assault. It was as if I was living again in real time.
But no, I wasn't.
I was in the hospital bed with a man, and neither of us knew who I was.
“No one has come looking for me?”
“Afraid not, though the police are interested in speaking with you if you have a moment.”
I raised a hand and waved it at him as if to say, "Why not?" They couldn't accuse me of anything, and it wasn't like I was going to lie to them.
I didn't even know what actually happened. How could I tell the truth about it?
Oddly enough, I wasn't nervous either. It was like my subconscious knew that I was safe and protected.
A few minutes after the doctor left me to rest, a knock came at the open doorway and two uniformed officers came inside. One of them closed the door behind him and then they were both standing at the end of my bed. Their faces were pale, as if they were nervous for some reason.
"You're both acting strange," I said, lending some false bravado to my tone.
It felt like these two men knew who I was, or they were intimidated by me at least. Maybe it was because of my size. Could it be that I was some type of thug, and I paid them off in the past?
I nearly laughed at the notion because it was so convoluted.
"No, sir. We were worried you wouldn't remember us. We spoke with you one time before on a case. You weren't too happy with us." This came from the one with Patterson on his uniform.
I frowned. "What did you do?"
The partner, Jenks, who had shut the door, spoke up. "Well, we were kind of fucking things up on the site. Your client was in danger and the department doesn't have the best track record of taking care of people until it's too late. Things are better now, but it took a lot of yelling from you for us to see the error of our ways, sir."
They did know who I was, but they hadn't told the doctor. It was confusing for sure.
“Do you two know what happened to put me in here?” I said, instead of asking the question I wanted to ask most — "Who am I?”
I could tell that I had some type of clout based on how they treated me. There was a reputation here I needed to understand the dynamics of.
"Sir, Mr. Tank, sir, if I may… you were attacked and taken. We’ve contacted your guys to come get you. They should be here any minute."
A commotion in the hall stopped his words. They both drew their guns as if preparing to get into a fight.
The movement was familiar. My hand itched to do the same thing, though I had no holster or weapon on me.
The door to my room opened, and a sea of bodies flooded inside. All of them were disheveled in some way, their clothes all lopsided and hair out of place. It matched the wide eyes and furious gazes that met mine.
The cops holstered their weapons and chuckled, "You guys got here fast," Patterson said, but I couldn't pay him any mind anymore because the last man who entered the room stole my breath away.
He was unkempt like the others were, but there was an air about him that spoke to me more. I was instantly attracted to him.
I wanted to hold him close and bury my face in his neck.
I wanted to breathe in his scent and hold him until we both fell asleep.
He stepped forward slowly, moving as if he was afraid to spook me. His hand reached for mine, and I let him take it. I wasn't afraid. Nothing he could do would bother me.
I was certain of it.
"Tank," he said as he dropped down to kneel on the side of the bed. His forehead went to my knuckles, and he collapsed into a sea of despair. His shoulders shook with the force of his tears and all I wanted to do was fix it for him.
I didn't know why.
Clearly he knew me.
He had to, to have that type of reaction.
The other men in the room were talking softly to one another, and then the cops were gone, and the door was shut again. When it was just us, the man kneeling beside me calmed rather quickly before he raised his eyes to meet mine.
"I'm so glad you're okay, baby," he said softly.
Something about the way he said that triggered the synapses in my brain. It was like flipping a switch.
I went from empty to full in an instant. Gasping, I gripped his hand.
“Chance?” I said softly, my memory of him restored with a simple pet name.
Fuck.
How did I ever forget him? How did I forget my whole fucking team? These men were my family.
Ronan grunted, stealing my attention from the man I loved. "What can you tell us?"
I shook my head slowly, careful not to aggravate my head injury.
"Nothing," I said. “Honestly, I don't remember anything.”
If I thought the room was silent before, it had nothing on the quiet that shook the space.
"What do you mean you don't remember?" Cohen asked.
I wanted to laugh just looking at him, not because he was funny or anything but because there was just this charismatic energy bouncing off him even as he frowned. It was always hovering around him.
"I mean, I don't know anything. I don't know how it happened or how I got here. I didn't even know my name until Chance triggered my memory. I can’t explain it," I admitted.
It was quiet for another moment and then the men broke into shouts and curses. They stomped around the room throwing their hands in the air and demanding answers.
It was amusing to watch, but I didn't dare laugh. They’d give me more shit if I did.
Plus, if a head shake could hurt, then I figured laughter would be worse.
Chance looked stricken. Tears poured from his eyes as he bit his bottom lip.
I reached up gently to tug it free and said, "I missed you. Sorry for scaring you."
He appeared relieved at my words, though I could still sense the worry coming off him in waves.
“Someone took you and hurt you. They kept you for days and then decided to throw you away like garbage. It’s unacceptable.”
It was embarrassing how quickly my body reacted to his words. The ownership and vengeance in his tone had my cock ready to jump in the game.
That part of me was still rearing to go, injured or not.
“The doctor said there was a note left on me,” I told them after taking a few breaths to calm my body down.
The group paused their discussion to look at me. Through some unspoken agreement, they planned who would investigate my claim.
Memphis stomped out of the room yelling, "Doctor!"
The others had the decency to stick around and wait, likely so that they didn't overwhelm the man. He was nice enough before, but all these guys would probably make anyone nervous.
Memphis walked back in with the doctor in tow, the latter seeming rather nervous. He smiled at me and then handed over a folded piece of paper.
"There. We don't know what it means, but I think it might be addressed to you. I wasn't sure if the name was yours or someone else's, which is why we left your chart as John Doe," he admitted.
I unfolded the paper and blinked a few times to make sure I could read it clearly.
Bruno, it's too soon for this to end. I'd like to play a little more to see just how smart you've become.
It was signed: D.L.
I handed it over to Memphis. He looked over the paper and cursed. "Damn it. It is Lune. He's the one behind all this. We should have known."
The doctor raised his hands. "I'm going to leave now. Whatever you all are discussing is none of my business. I've done my part. Unless there is an emergency, please let me finish my rounds." He rushed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
No one much cared because they were all looking over the note.
“Bruno?” Orion asked.
The name felt familiar, but it also felt wrong. When they called me Tank, that gave me a sense of warmth and recognition. This held bad memories, though I refused to draw them forth.
Chance stood slowly and reached for the page. He looked it over as well. Then he gave it back before looking down at me.
He voiced the words I couldn’t. “Bruno was his given name at birth. It was his father's name, which is why you never hear him say it.”
An ache formed in the pit of my stomach, and my heart rate sped at the echo of thoughts. There were shadows moving through my head, infiltrating my subconscious and bringing forth terror that was long dead.
I couldn't take it. The beating, the temporary memory loss, and now this. It was all too much.
In a bid to just let it all go, I closed my eyes, put my hands over my face, and screamed.