Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mick
T wo security guards man the bathroom door. Jake flashes his badge, and they let us pass. The room reeks of alcohol and piss, and there lies my wife in the middle of the black-tiled floor, Greg and Emily by her side.
My body trembles as I fall to my knees and clasp Jules’ hand.
Greg moves out of the way. “Her breathing’s steady. Heart rate’s a little slow but stable.”
Thank Christ. After my call with Jules was disconnected, I phoned Jake. In less than thirty minutes, he and Claire turned up on my doorstep with a sleepy Oscar. Claire stayed to take care of the kids while Jake drove us into the city, lights flashing, his car pushing the limit on the speedo. I’ve never been more grateful to count cops as friends, especially the two in front of me. If Greg and Emily hadn’t been at a nearby club, who knows what might have happened to Jules by the time we arrived.
“Have the ambos been called?”
Greg tucks Emily under his arm. “Yep. Hopefully, they won’t be much longer. But I don’t think Jules will need them. ”
Easy for Greg to say. It’s not his wife lying there whiter than a corpse.
Jake had the police radio on during our trip here. It sounded like the entire city had erupted in a flurry of incidents and drug overdoses, pushing the paramedics to breaking point.
“Mick?” Jules’ eyes flutter open. “I’m sorry.”
“Christ, don’t be sorry.” I scrape hair off her face. It’s wet and sticky. “What happened?”
A tear slides down her cheek. “I think someone drugged my beer. And Taylor …”
I turn to Greg. “She was with a friend. Do you know where she is?” As much as I dislike Taylor, I wouldn’t want any harm coming to her.
“No,” he says, his lips curled into a snarl. “But don’t worry about her. She was lucid enough to give Em the finger.” His gaze skims over Jules. Her eyelids have fluttered shut, and she looks almost peaceful. “The friend didn’t appear to have been slipped anything.”
“She just left my wife like this?” I warned Jules that woman was bad news.
“Don’t stress, mate. I’ve asked for all the CCTV footage. We’ll find out what happened.”
Emily cracks her knuckles. “I snapped some photos of the men this Taylor chick was with.” She pulls an object from her handbag. “And I might have a wallet or two.”
“You do realise that’s a stealing offence?” A uniformed cop pushes into the bathroom, his lethal gaze boring a hole through Emily. It’s getting decidedly cramped.
Emily’s blue eyes blaze straight back at him. “They accidentally fell out of their pockets.”
Despite the situation, I can’t help but laugh out loud at the obvious lie. Greg and Emily are well-matched.
Jake holds his right hand out. “Glad to see the local cavalry finally made an appearance, Sergeant Dawson. ”
The sergeant stands to attention. “Detective Inspector Matthews, sir. This is a surprise.”
Jake shakes his hand, then points at Jules. “Someone targeted a friend of ours.” He fills them in on what happened. The words wash over me while I stroke Jules’ arm and watch for any signs of distress.
The ambos arrive and agree with Greg’s assessment that Jules’ condition is stable. They whisk her away to the hospital for observation and a blood test to determine if the drug can be identified. I stay by her side in the ambulance and Jake follows in his car. It’s the longest drive of my life. While I trust the paramedics’ judgement and have my own experience with substance abuse to know Jules appears safe, I’ll only breathe properly again once a doctor sees her.
Jake calls in favours to get Jules prioritised; otherwise, we might still be in triage awaiting our turn. The flimsy curtains in the emergency room offer the illusion of privacy. I can’t see what’s happening outside our little cocoon, but I hear every bang, curse and scream.
The doctor presses a stethoscope to Jules’ chest, then shines a light in her eyes. He grunts and scribbles something on his iPad. “We’ll get some bloods taken. Once the results are back, we can decide what to do next.”
“I just want to go home.” Jules’ voice is so soft it’s barely audible over the ding of medical machines.
I don’t like the idea of leaving the hospital’s protection. I slide stray hairs from her face. “You’ll be better cared for here.”
“If she’s cleared, she’ll need to be discharged. There are no spare beds.” The doctor flicks off his latex gloves. “The nurse will take it from here.” He hurries out before I can argue. I know he’s just doing his job; the emergency room is overflowing, but I still want to yell at people to work faster.
The nurse takes a blood sample, and we’re left alone. There’s some colour back in Jules’ face, but she’s very lethargic.
She tugs on my wrist with surprising strength. “Fuck me, Mick.”
My gaze darts to the curtains. Her voice is weak. It’s possible that no one heard. “We’re in a hospital.”
“So?”
If I needed any further proof that my wife’s been drugged, I have it. While Jules has been known to initiate sex in public spaces, she’d never be this brazen. Not with people only metres from us. I suspect she was slipped Rohypnol, a common date rape drug. It can affect muscles, cause amnesia, and loss of inhibitions. The police had better find the bastards who did this to her.
Her hand drops to the top of my thigh. I push it away. “Stop. You need to rest.”
She sighs and closes her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
I flop into the hard plastic chair next to her. No fun? I’d laugh, except there’s nothing remotely funny about this situation.
Two hours later, the doctor confirms there are traces of Rohypnol and diazepam in her system. My blood pressure soars and my fingers curl into fists as rage like I’ve never experienced before, not even in my darkest moments, bubbles up and threatens to explode.
Since Jules’ vitals are strong and the hospital needs the space, she’s discharged. She sleeps in the car, which is a mercy. The last thing I want is for Jake to bear witness to her drugged seduction attempts. Given the late hour, or early hour if you compare it to the impending dawn, Jake crashes in the spare room with Claire and Oscar while I usher Jules into our bedroom. Riley slept through everything. I’m still not sure what we’ll tell her when she wakes up in a few hours.
I pull Jules’ top off. Then her bra. She fumbles for my crotch. I dance away. “Sit on the bed so I can get your pants off.”
“Now you’re talking.” She flops on the mattress, and I pull her stretchy black pants and underwear down in one hit. She spreads her legs and walks her fingers down her belly. Slips them between her folds. “I want to fuck.”
“Later.” And by later, I mean when she’s completely drug free. If I get my hands on the pricks who slipped her the drugs, Jake will have to physically hold me down to stop me from beating the hell out of them.
“Now.” If it wasn’t for the slight slur in her voice and the glaze in her eyes, I’d think Jules was in full control of herself. But she isn’t. She’ll be lucky if she even remembers this in the morning.
“Let’s get you cleaned up first.” She might be oblivious to it, but the stench of vomit clings to her hair, causing my stomach to heave.
I turn the water on in our ensuite. Strip out of my clothes.
Naked, horny Jules proves a slippery shower mate as I dance away from her groping hands. Every brush of her fingers against my dick has the stupid appendage swelling. It’s biology, but it annoys me that I can’t control my response when Jules is in a drug-addled state. I wash her hair and body with lots of cajoling and promises of ‘later’.
Once she’s tucked up in bed, fresh tears staining her cheeks, Jules looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m sorry, Mick.”
“I’ve already told you, there’s nothing to apologise for. It was a momentary lapse in judgement.” A big fucking one, but she’s had enough of a scare without me lecturing her. My hands still tremble when I think about what could have happened if she hadn’t called for help. Hadn’t been locked out of reach of those predators until Greg and Emily arrived and alerted security.
I slide into the bed next to her, and she snuggles against me. Her breathing is soft, tickling the hairs on my chest. Moments later, her hand snakes down my abs and into my pyjama pants. She cups my cock. It responds, swelling in her palm. God, her touch feels amazing, but it’s wrong. She strokes from tip to base. I still her hand with mine.
She tweaks my nipple through my shirt. “Come on, Mick. Let me make you feel good.”
I swallow the bile creeping up my throat. That’s the remnants of the drug talking. “No. You need to sleep.”
“Spoilsport.”
I extract her hand from my pants and roll her over so her back is to my front. “Sleep, Jules.”
She grunts and wiggles her arse into my crotch. I do math in my head to stop myself from being turned on. Eventually, she settles. Even though the hospital assured me Jules isn’t in any danger, I stay awake listening to her soft breathing until the first hint of light bleeds through the gaps in the curtains.