Chapter 15
CONALL
Everything felt a bit woozy. The world tilted and blurs of people surrounded me, moving in a flurry.
My brain was molasses, and I couldn’t keep up with what was happening.
I caught Sloan’s voice, commanding and strong, and I heard a few other familiar people, too—like the doctor who’d brought me on the helicopter.
At one point, Terrance was there, and his tone was sharp and dangerous.
I wanted to tell him not to blame Sloan.
This wasn’t his fault, but my tongue was heavy.
The fuckers must’ve given me a sedative and I wasn’t a fan.
Not at fucking all. I opened my mouth to tell Sloan I wanted to go home, but I was pretty sure the only thing that came out was drool.
Or maybe not. Hell if I knew. I was higher than a kite right now.
When I got out of here, I was banning Sloan from touching my arse for two weeks .
. . or maybe two hours. For however long I was able to hold out before I wanted him.
I drifted in and out of consciousness.
By the time I reached a point where I could finally unglue my eyelids and keep them open, Sloan was the only one with me.
The soft beeping sounds of the machines filled the room, a steady beat echoing in my ears.
Was that my heartbeat? Probably, because when I caught sight of Sloan’s dark hair—it was weird to see the roots growing out to the point his bleached blond was nearly gone—the beeping intensified.
He was holding my hand, fingers gripping mine tight, and his touch was a comfort I welcomed.
Sloan glanced up from his phone, the hard lines in his face softening when he saw I was awake. He stood from the comfortable-looking armchair and laid a gentle kiss on my forehead. “You’re awake, Pet.”
“I’m mad at you,” I said, pouting. “You took me to the hospital.”
He snorted and raised one eyebrow. Bastard. I hated when he did that, it was so damned sexy and he knew it. “You have fungal meningitis, Pet. You were hallucinating and thought you could see your dad. You had a fever and—”
“Okay, okay.” I groaned, humiliation prickling my eyes. Was I really that sick? Fuck. My stomach wobbled and I swallowed down the urge to do something stupid like cry. “I get it. I was sicker than I thought.”
Sloan’s expression shuttered and I couldn’t place it. Maybe I was still too drugged out, but there was something in his eyes that scared me. A fury, yet also hopelessness. Had I done that? Made him this way?
He blew out a rough breath. “Conall, you weren’t just sick.
You could have died. Do you not understand that?
” His voice rose and some of that anger I saw in his face leaked into his words.
I didn’t think he’d meant to sound so harsh, but I couldn’t help but flinch under his scrutiny.
“How many times will you flirt with death before you realize how important you are? You should’ve been seen sooner. ”
Guilt formed a ball in my gut and I picked at one of my fingernails. “I’m sorry. I really thought I was just sad about you being in jail.”
“And seeing your dad? My mom? Both who are dead, I might add.” Sloan sent me a pointed look, frost in his eyes. I’d heard the men say Sloan had icy eyes, but I’d never agreed in the past. They were the color of the ocean. But right now, they were frozen with outrage.
I winced. “I thought I was going crazy from loneliness? I mean, you don’t realize you’re going nuts while you’re doing it.”
He exhaled loudly and stared up at the ceiling, like he was praying to God for a solution to my stupidity.
Finally, he looked back at me. “Not good enough, Pet. This won’t happen again, do you hear me?
You were out of it for days. As it is, when you’re better, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking your sexy arse red for making me worry. ”
“Yes, please.” Regardless of the erotic nature of his comment, a deep sensation of warmth spread through my chest. But a guilt lingered there, too, buried like a heavy weight in my lungs.
Sloan shouldn’t have had to worry about me after leaving jail, and yet he did because I’d fucked up. I should’ve seen Rory earlier.
I glanced around the large room. The windows were wide and there were three of them covered with cream curtains, while there was a sitting area with an extra-large TV and a few brown leather sofas.
The paneling was a mixture of warm brown wood and white walls, and there was a door I suspected led to a bathroom.
It felt more like a hotel than a hospital room.
I whistled. “This is nice.”
Sloan chuckled as he perused the space, some of that previous anger evaporating. “It’s okay. Home would be much better.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic, but still . . . if I had to be here, this was the room I’d want. Was that—fuck, it was. There was even a full bookshelf and a walk-in closet at the farthest end. “Does it come with a Michelin star chef, too?”
“Yes,” Sloan said without missing a beat, even though I was joking.
I stared at him, and he stared back. Fuck. He was serious.
“And I get to watch my F1 race on that nice big TV,” I said.
He laughed. “You and those races. I don’t understand what you like about it.”
I shrugged. I’d become a fan in the last few years and it drove Sloan batty.
There was something fun about watching the drivers battle it out to get over the line first. It helped that a lot of them were hot, but that wasn’t the only reason I watched the sport.
And if I was out for days, I missed the latest race.
“This really is a hospital for the rich, isn’t it?” I teased.
His eyebrows rose and the corner of his mouth curled. “What do you think, Pet?”
I snorted. When he’d given me a rundown of his plans to build a hospital that would be used as both a front for one of our brothels and a place for our soldier’s wounds to be treated, I was skeptical, but like with everything he did, it was perfect.
Members of the Eoin Killough Memorial paid a yearly membership, and they got the best of everything, as well as privacy.
The feds couldn’t hit this place as hard as any other because they had the rich to contend with.
Then, if you add on the generous amount of pro bono work the hospital did for the community, touching us was shitty optics for the Feds.
Now that my awareness was back, the prickling sensation of stiffness in my neck returned, and I flinched as I sat back against the comfortable thick mattress. I wasn’t feeling entirely unwell, but my body ached.
“Fungal meningitis, huh? Did they fix me?”
Sloan sat on the edge of my bed, hand still tucked securely in mine. I didn’t see him letting go of me any time soon and I didn’t mind. Actually, I fucking loved it.
“They’re giving you antifungal meds.” His jaw clenched and his eyes hardened.
“The medication comes through your IV, but when you leave here, you’ll need to keep taking pills for a while.
Up to half a year. You’ll keep feeling the symptoms, though, anywhere from two weeks up to a few months.
Maybe longer. At least that’s what Goodheart says. Do you know what meningitis is, Pet?”
I shook my head when he raised my hand and pressed a kiss to it. If I internally swooned, that was my business.
“It’s an infection that affects your spinal cord and brain.
Think about that for me, Conall. Your brain and spinal cord.
” The way his voice trembled just slightly had me swallowing hard.
Sloan didn’t show fear, but it was there, lingering under each word.
“You could’ve died. Left me.” He laid his forehead against mine and cupped my cheek.
“And I couldn’t have killed anyone before I took myself out to be with you because no one hurt you.
No, that’s a lie. You hurt you. Fuck, Conall. ”
I sucked in a breath between my teeth.
“You need to take better care of yourself. I give you everything you want and the best bodyguards, too. I let Fallon train you so you can protect yourself, and you even have Rory on call twenty-four-seven, but you couldn’t look after your health?”
My shoulders relaxed, the familiar warmth spreading through me as I watched him, noting the loving frustration on his face and how his jaw twitched.
“Do I need to get someone to take your temperature daily? Check you over every morning to make sure you’re well?
Because I’ll hire someone, Pet. I’ll have a personal in-house doctor who gives you an examination every day.
” His eyes flashed, a crazed expression in them like he’d do exactly what he’d threatened.
I tilted my head, leaning into the touch of his palm on my cheek, and then kissed the heel. “I promise I’ll take better care of myself. I really thought it was because I missed you.”
“That doesn’t cause hallucinations.” He exhaled and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Never again. Promise me that you’ll never ignore your health again. That’s an order.”
I smiled. “I promise.” I inclined my chin forward, asking for a kiss. His warm mouth melded against mine, and I closed my eyes, savoring his taste and the feel of him. “So . . . This is a big room with lots of space. Want to fuck me?”
Sloan huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Pet, you just woke up.”
I spread my arms. “And I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” he rumbled, his lips twitching in amusement. His gaze softened and the stiffness in his body released, his shoulders relaxing. “But no, I am not having sex with you in this hospital, not while you’re still unwell.”
I whined and pouted, and all it got me was a sharp smack to the thigh through the thick blankets.
“I drew something for you.”
I frowned and sat up straighter, my back and neck protesting at the movement. My stomach wobbled and I stilled to let it settle before I cocked my head. “You draw?”