Chapter 4 #2
They made it to the hall and had just turned right when A.J. stopped him. “Hold up. You don’t feel that draft?” A.J. asked with a light laugh, and Finn tied up the hospital gown. “The nurses appear to be appreciating the view so much they’re not yelling at you to get back in bed.”
“They’re not yelling at me because they must know who my uncle is—did you give them my real name?”
“We did come to Spain as ourselves,” Finn reminded him. “And your uncle is a bigwig here, right? The doctors and nurses treated you like royalty when they heard your name.”
“Hell, I thought they might bow to you like we’re on an episode of Bridgerton.” He could hear the soft tone of amusement in A.J.’s voice.
“The what?” Finn asked with a laugh.
“Don’t get me started. Ana loves the duke on the show.
I make it through five minutes before passing out on the couch.
” A.J. was trying to distract Roman from blowing a fuse about Harper, wasn’t he?
He normally wouldn’t be talking about his wife’s love of a TV show right now. “So, is your family duke-level rich?”
More like king-level. “My uncle’s family employs about a quarter of the city.” His head started to pound the more he walked, and a fresh wave of nausea had his stomach churning.
When he crossed the threshold into Harper’s room, Roman’s legs nearly gave out at the sight of her. She looked so small and fragile. Her body lay partially hidden beneath a blanket, her eyes closed, and white gauze wrapped around her head like some kind of morbid halo.
“I thought you said she was awake.” Roman hobbled toward her bedside with the guys’ assistance, relief pouring through him to see her alive, but he was damn angry at himself that she’d ever been hurt.
“Yeah, in and out of sleep. You slept longer because they had to sedate you with some extra goodies last night.” A.J.
had a habit of relying on humor when he was actually worried.
It was how Roman knew he was bluffing, which meant the boys weren’t telling him the whole story.
And he was two seconds away from demanding an answer when Harper opened her eyes.
“Roman.” Hearing his name murmured from Harper’s lips had him weak-kneed again. She pulled her hand free from the blanket and lifted it in his direction.
He waved off the guys, confident he could handle himself now that he was near Harper and bent closer to hold her hand.
He closed his eyes in surprise when she lifted her head and set her mouth on his lips.
A.J. and Finn made a whistling sound from behind, but he was too stunned to say or do anything other than respond to her soft, chaste kiss that had him momentarily forgetting that she was lying in a hospital bed.
Until the pain in the side of his skull kicked him back to the present, but . . . why was she kissing him?
“Is Dad okay? I saw him there. Did he make it?” she asked when their lips parted. “They won’t tell me.”
“I, um.” And there it was—why A.J. was worried. “I thought you said she was fine,” Roman tossed out in a distressed voice as Finn went to stand on the other side of the bed, and A.J. remained nearby as if worried Roman would drop.
“What’s wrong?” Harper’s sad tone carried Roman’s focus back to her, and his heart broke. Did he really need to remind her that her father died in a different explosion years ago?
Roman closed his eyes at the memory of Harper standing in the street after the car bomb last night with an outstretched hand. Had she been reliving her experience as a nine-year-old girl on the streets of Nairobi after the terrorist attack? Was that why she hadn’t seen the car coming right for her?
His insides burned at that image he’d never be able to shake. And he’d personally kill whoever was responsible for doing this to her.
When he peeled his eyes open, he found Harper frowning and pulling her hand free from his. “I-I remember now. I was confused. I know what happened.” She looked over at Finn, then to A.J., and back at Roman again. “So sorry for kissing you,” she murmured. “Must have been hallucinating or something.”
Or she temporarily thought they were still sneaking around together, which was what had happened to him when he woke up thinking he was still in 2021 and not in 2022.
“I’m going to have a word with the doctor.” Roman gently smoothed his palm over her forehead below the bandage and did his best not to collapse on top of her as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
She had to be okay, damn it.
He stepped away from the bed with A.J.’s help and issued an order to Finn by way of a nod not to leave her side.
“What was she talking about?” A.J. asked once they were outside the room in the hall. “Her dad-dad or her adoptive dad?”
“Remember the terrorist attack in 1998 that landed Osama bin Laden on the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted list?
” Roman set a hand to the wall after A.J.
closed her door. “Harper and her father were nearby the embassy in Nairobi when the bomb went off. They found her alive in the rubble beneath her dad’s body.
” He swallowed, remembering when Harper shared the story with him not too long before they first made love last year.
Roman had refrained from doing a Google search on the circumstances surrounding her father’s death because he respected her privacy and figured she would tell him if and when she wanted to. Never had he imagined that would’ve been her story.
“It’s why she joined the, uh, Company.” Company was code for the CIA and easier to use when in public.
“I don’t know what to say.” A.J. cupped his mouth. “I didn’t . . . know. I can see why Luke and Jessica didn’t feel the need to share.”
Of course, Jessica and Luke would have known Harper’s life story, but he wondered what else they knew and hadn’t shared for the sake of Harper’s privacy.
“And the kiss?” This time A.J.’s voice wasn’t filled with humor, and he came across as sounding more like a concerned guy looking out for a best friend.
“She was confused,” Roman quickly answered. “Disoriented.”
A.J. had to know he was bullshitting him because he was too weak and messed up in the head to pull off the blank, emotionless expression he normally used to hide the truth. His way of bluffing.
A man in a white jacket strode toward where he and A.J.
stood, and he handed an iPad off to a nurse at his side before folding his arms. “I’m Dr. Lopez.
You’re lucky to be alive, but you shouldn’t be out of bed.
We did a CT to check for internal bleeding, and you were clear.
You do have a concussion, as well as a labral hip tear and lumbar strain.
When the medicine wears off, your back is going to hurt. Hip, too.”
Well, he’d have to walk it off. No way would he be bed-ridden or doped up.
“I’m fine. How bad is Harper’s concussion?” Roman asked, brushing off the doctor’s diagnosis for him.
“She should be okay. Nothing too serious,” he answered.
“We’ll be checking out soon, then.” They needed to regroup, figure out what in the hell happened last night and why. They had a terrorist attack to stop and Harper to keep safe.
“I had a feeling you’d say that because based on some old scars on the lower portion of your brain I saw on the scans, you must be former military, am I right?”
A.J. coughed into a closed fist but nodded.
“I would like another look at you now that you’re not so—”
“Crazed?” A.J. cut off Dr. Lopez.
What was he talking about? And that reminded him, why had he been sedated? Had his pain been that bad?
Dr. Lopez smiled, his perfect white teeth undoubtedly capped. “I can understand. If someone tried to keep me away from my wife after such a horrific event, I’d probably throw a few punches around, too.”
Punches? Wife? Roman searched his memory but came up blank.
“When you woke up in the hospital the first time, you went a little, um, Hulk when they wouldn’t let you see Harper,” A.J. explained. “And she’s not his wife. We’re her bodyguards. He just takes his job very seriously.”
Dr. Lopez raised his brows, evidently not believing him and surely wondering why Roman, a wealthy Riviera, would be working as a bodyguard.
“What should we expect, Doc?” A.J. hooked an arm around Roman’s as if he were worried the wall Roman was leaning against for support might not be enough to keep him standing.
“In regard to the head injury, I’d expect you to be a little disoriented and confused over the next seven days or so,” he directed his answer to Roman.
“In the simplest of terms, you might be a bit more forgetful. Perhaps not remember all the details prior to the concussion, especially the last few days.” The doctor paused for a moment.
“Not only you but your client as well,” he added, referring to Harper with hesitation.
“Your brain can store about two point five petabytes of memory, but that doesn’t mean you can access all of those memories, even without a concussion.
So, you just might have a harder time sifting through facts in your head than normal.
I advise following up with your primary back home and doing another scan in a few weeks.
” He frowned. “Honestly, all the other scarring on your brain is more concerning to me than the new bump you got last night.”
“But Harper, she’ll be okay?” Roman didn’t give a damn about himself.
“Yes, but the brain is sensitive. Sometimes after an accident, our minds don’t actually want to remember everything, especially something traumatic.
” Dr. Lopez folded his arms, concerned green eyes on Roman.
“I wouldn’t allow her to be alone until her symptoms resolve.
Or you, for that matter. Someone should stay with both of you.
You could forget you turned on the stove.
Or she may lose her balance and fall in the shower, for instance. ”
When Roman found the assholes who did this to her . . .
“I’ll be fine.” Roman didn’t need anyone taking care of him, but he’d make sure Harper was safe.