5. Gio
5
GIO
M y stomach rolls before I’m fully awake. The sudden bout of nausea cramping up my entire body has me scrambling towards the edge of the mattress before my eyes are even open.
“Whoa, shit, hold on, G.” The distantly familiar voice is there and then back again as a solid hand lands on my back. My eyes crack open to find a puke pan being held in front of me, and I’ve never been more grateful in my life.
The need is too strong for me to resist the urge to vomit. I don’t even care if there’s someone else in the room, I simply open my mouth and let it all come up. Acid and bile war for real estate on the back of my tongue, but my whole mouth tastes like a loaded dumpster.
Gasping, I manage to make it through a few more heaves before I sigh and shove the puke pan away. Scrubbing a hand down my face and sitting up, the pain assails me in the next breath. I groan, putting a hand to my abdomen. Throwing up never makes me feel great, but it also doesn’t make me feel like someone has taken a sledge hammer to my ribs and stomach.
No, but metal pipes and fists might.
I blink my bleary eyes open at that thought as the memory of my attack comes back in full force. White on white on motherfucking white. Shit. I’m in a hospital room. Turning my head, I find Nolan standing there with a grimace on his face and the puke pan I’d just vomited my guts into held between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Yeah…” He says, turning towards the door. “I’m just gonna put this out in the hall for one of the orderlies to come get.”
My stomach isn’t the only thing hurting. “What the fuck did they do?” I demand, grinding my jaw at the throbbing there.
Nolan snorts and reaches for something on the stand next to the bed. A second later, he holds out a plastic cup full of water. I take it and gingerly sip until I’m sure I can keep it down. Then, I down the fucker, needing the taste of my own vomit out of my mouth right fucking now. When I’m done, Nolan puts the cup back on the stand and takes a seat in the chair next to my hospital bed. Dull, early morning light turns the white room a hazy shade of gray.
“Beat the hell out of you and left you for dead.” Nolan’s voice holds no amusement as he kicks his feet up on the edge of the mattress.
I shift around, the crinkle of plastic under the mattress topper grating against my sensitive ears. “That’s for damn sure.” I wince and put a hand to my temple. “How long have I been out?”
“About twenty-four hours,” he admits. “You might’ve been up earlier, but the Doc had you on some medication to keep you out because there was some worry about swelling in your head.”
“Swelling?” I glance to the side, noting that the only other furniture in the room is a cushioned chair with a divot in the center of the ass. Next to it is a half-finished knitting piece and two needles stuck out of a ball of yarn. “My mom?”
“She’s downstairs getting breakfast,” Nolan tells me. “She just left about ten minutes ago—she’s been here since you were admitted. Your dad came by sometime in the night.”
But the fucker didn’t stay. Can’t say I’m surprised. I lower my hand back to my side and grit my teeth against the onslaught of pain that pounds against the inside of my skull. If I’m awake, then the doctor had called off the meds—was that all of them including anything for the pain? It certainly feels like it.
When I finally return my gaze to Nolan’s, it’s to find him quietly observing me with a shadow across the upper half of his face. “Do you remember anything about your attack?” he asks. “Any details about the guys who came after you?”
“There were at least three of them,” I tell him on a sigh. “They swung at me with what felt like either an iron pipe or a baseball bat before I even realized they were there.” It was sloppy of me to not have been paying attention. I’d been so focused on thinking about Juliet that they’d gotten the jump on me. My hands clench into fists at my sides. It wouldn’t happen again, that was for damn sure.
Nolan nods his understanding. “Lex is pulling camera footage of the surrounding area,” he says.
“My father?—”
“Claims to have nothing to do with the attack,” he cuts me off. “But he knows about Juliet now and he’s not happy.”
I eye Nolan cautiously. “Do you believe him?” I ask. “About the attack.”
Silence stretches between us. “I don’t know,” he admits. “But we don’t have a motivation for him to have been the one behind it.”
“He hates me,” I snap. “What other motivation could he need?” Without giving Nolan a chance to answer, I slide my legs over the side of the bed and pull the sheets off my lower half. My bladder screams for relief.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Nolan plants his legs on the floor and stands.
“Bathroom,” I say, waving him off as I get to my own shaky legs, giving myself a moment to make sure I’m not going to take a head dive towards the cold, tiled floor. When I’m sure I’m good, I ignore his outstretched hand and shuffle towards the door with no window on the opposite side of the room.
“I thought the catheter would’ve taken care of that.” I freeze at Nolan’s amused words and slowly turn back to face him.
“A what? ” I gape as his amusement morphs into a shit-eating grin.
“They took it out when they stopped the meds that were keeping you under, but yeah.” He shrugs. “A catheter.”
“You let them shove something up my dick!”
Nolan lets loose a bark of laughter and gestures to where an IV pole is stuck to my arm via a long clear tube. “Oh, shut up and don’t rip out your fucking needle, man. It was necessary.”
“Fucking prick.” I lumber back to the IV pole, gripping it, and then shuffle my way back to the bathroom doorway, muttering to myself.
My bones ache and creak with each movement and walking around with the damn rolling pole at my side is an annoyance, but once I’ve finished relieving myself, I feel marginally better. That is—until I spy my face in the mirror above the sink.
Nolan hadn’t been kidding when he said I was beat to hell and left for dead. One of my eyes is so black and blue that my actual eyeball is little more than a slit in the cavern of darkness. My lips are dried and cracked with a split over one side, and though it looks like someone had attempted to clean me up, there’s still dried blood crusted around my upper forehead.
The rest of me didn’t fare much better, and I pull the front of the hospital gown away to glance down my front. There are more bruises than any my father had ever given me decorating the side of my body. Playing football—if I even heal before the end of the season—is going to suck ass.
I wash my face as best I can and scrub my hair away from my forehead, wincing at the sharp pain in my skull. With little else to do, I finish up quickly enough and make my way back into the room. Nolan watches me move across the room with the speed of an old man riddled with arthritis but doesn’t say anything until I’m back in bed.
“There’s something else.” He sits back down.
I arch an eyebrow as I shuffle the bed sheets over my legs and recline against the single pillow at my back.
“Juliet’s apartment burned down last night.”
My jaw drops. “The whole complex?”
He shakes his head. “No, just her building and the six units attached.”
“ Fuuuuuuuuuck .” I let the word out on a long breath. “She’s gonna be pissed.” Something niggles at the back of my mind. A memory. A promise. “Oh shit.” I sit up straighter. “I was supposed to take her to the prison … I … shit. ”
Nolan’s enigmatic expression cracks and his lips twist. “Yeah… she went,” he tells me.
A frown tugs at my lips. There’s no way that Nolan or Lex would’ve driven her hours away to talk to Allen fucking Donovan while I was in the hospital. Before I can ask what the hell he means, he leans forward and folds his hands together so that they dangle above his spread knees.
“She took a bus and went by herself.”
My head thunks back before I can think better of it, and a fresh wave of nausea and pain assails me. I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut, counting backwards from ten until the sudden urge to upchuck the absolute rock in my stomach recedes.
As it does, a recollection of the fight resurfaces. Leave the Donovan girl… or else.
If my father just found out about Juliet, then he couldn’t have orchestrated the attack. Unfortunately, that doesn’t bring us any closer to who could have. “They said something about her.” The words burst from my lips as I try to push my thoughts further back.
The fight had been quick and brutal. Blows exchanged. Pain. Exploding behind my eyes. What else? Was there something more I’d forgotten?
“About … Juliet?” Nolan’s voice deepens. “The guys who attacked you mentioned her?”
I nod. “They told me to back off—to leave her alone.” My temples fucking throb with agony as I try to remember any more hints. The attack was about her, but why?
Before I can summon more words, the door to the room opens and a woman with straight black hair and almond-shaped eyes shuffles in. “It’s good to see you awake, Mr. Vargas,” she says, shifting around the bed with a tray on wheels. “How is your pain level?”
I try not to scrunch up my face as I turn to face the nurse. “My head’s killing me,” I say honestly.
She passes me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it is, sweetie.” Her hands go to the tray and I glance down to see what she’s brought. A few syringes and a small bottle of clear liquid with a label too small for me to read.
When I shoot a look at Nolan, he gives me a nod of acknowledgement. This conversation isn’t over, but for now, I’ll take the meds. If I’m going to figure this shit out, I’ll need them.
Someone is after Juliet Donovan and if they’re willing to jump me to warn us away from her, then we have bigger problems than her hatred of us. I only hope that I can heal fast enough to take some of my own revenge on the asshole. No one attacks a Scorpion King and gets away with it.