Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
AUDRA
Voices drift in and out of my head like radio stations I can’t quite tune.
Too bright. Too loud. Too much.
The sounds don’t stack right. They smear. Stretch. Snap back too fast. I try to focus on one voice, one sensation, but everything slides away before I can grab it.
Something tight squeezes my arm.
I groan softly and try to pull away, but the pressure doesn’t stop.
“It’s just the cuff,” a woman’s voice says gently. “You’re okay.”
I’m not okay.
My head feels thick—not sharp pain, not exactly. More like pressure. Like my thoughts are moving through something heavy and resistant. My mouth is desert-dry, no matter how much I swallow, and my stomach rolls in slow, distrustful waves.
I try to open my eyes. Manage about half an inch before giving up.
“Ms. Sullivan?” another voice asks. Male. Calm. Annoyingly steady. “Can you tell me what you drank tonight?”
“I…” The word gets stuck somewhere between thought and sound. “Captain and Diet Coke.” I swallow. “Another one he bought.”
Someone exhales near me.
“She didn’t finish it,” Derek says. I don’t have to see him to know it’s him.
“Vitals are stable,” the woman says. “We’re running a tox screen.”
Tox.
The word sticks, unwelcome.
“Was… wrong,” I whisper. “Didn’t feel right.”
“You did the right thing,” the man says. “Whatever was in your system appears to be a low dose.”
Low dose.
As if that’s comforting.
Something cool presses against my wrist. Plastic. A sharp pinch.
“I don’t like hospitals,” I mumble.
A soft snort. Alex. “Nobody does.”
“Hey,” Mark says, calm and grounding. “Stay with us, Audra.”
I want to tell him I am. I want to tell all of them I wasn’t careless, that I didn’t do anything stupid, that this isn’t my fault.
But my tongue feels heavy. Thick. Like it’s forgotten how to move properly.
Lights blur. Sounds warp.
I hear someone say I’ll need a ride home once my IV is done..
“I’ve got it,” Derek says immediately.
“I didn’t—” I try.
“I know,” he replies. “It’s fine.”
Something warm presses briefly against my arm. Steady. Solid.
Then everything tilts sideways and dissolves.
Oh God.
My head.
It’s throbbing now. Pounding. Stabbing. Like someone replaced my brain with a jackhammer and forgot to turn it off.
Shit.
How much did I drink last night?
I try to open my eyes.
Instant regret.
Too bright. Wrong ceiling.
I bolt upright on instinct and immediately groan, clutching my head as the room lurches violently.
I am not in my bed.
I squeeze my eyes shut and start praying for mercy.
Okay. Think. Breathe. Assess.
I glance down at myself slowly, because sudden movements feel like a personal attack. I’m wearing a large Cambridge University t-shirt that hangs to mid-thigh.
My panties are still on.
No bra. No dress.
Yikes.
I shift carefully, doing a full-body check.
No soreness. No ache. No pain anywhere that would suggest I made catastrophic life choices.
That’s… very good.
I sink back into the pillows, heart racing, and try to piece the night together.
The Vault. Dancing. Shannon. Levi. Laughing.
The bar.
After that?
Fuzzy. Smeared. Like someone shook my memories loose and forgot to put them back.
There’s a hollow feeling in my chest that doesn’t match the situation. I’m safe. I know that. I’m surrounded by people who didn’t let anything bad happen.
So why do I feel like something already did?
Footsteps.
Heavy male footsteps.
My heart jumps straight into my throat.
I yank the sheet up to just under my eyes and peek out.
Who—
Holy shit.
Derek Pierce rounds the corner holding a mug of coffee, wearing nothing but low-slung pajama bottoms and a complete disregard for my sanity.
Muscles everywhere. Tattoos everywhere. Ink I’ve only ever glimpsed at the office sprawls across his chest and arms, disappearing beneath the waistband.
My brain shuts down entirely.
He takes a sip of coffee and scratches absently at his chest like this is perfectly normal.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”
I know my bed head must be tragic. My hair probably looks like it tried to escape during the night.
But Derek’s bed head?
Sexily mussed.
Unfair.
“My head is killing me,” I say slowly. “My mouth feels like sandpaper, and my stomach is moaning for food but groaning at the thought.”
He grins.
Grins.
I’ve seen Derek Pierce grin exactly twice before this moment. Three now.
It renders me profoundly stupid.
Mark appears behind him. Shirtless. Pajama bottoms. Bare feet. Coffee.
Then Alex.
Also shirtless. Also coffee.
All three stop short when they see me sitting up, staring like I’m trying to solve a complicated equation.
“I don’t remember what happened,” I whisper.
My brain immediately offers worst-case scenarios.
What if I did something kinky with all three of them?
What if—
No.
I’m not sore. Not even a little. And I know for a fact that if anything had happened with even one of them, I’d feel it.
Painfully good.
That is not the case.
Mark chuckles. “Relax. We didn’t double-O seven you.”
“What?” I whisper.
“You know,” Alex says cheerfully. “Pierce is known as 007 for his womanizing ways.”
Normally I’d have something sharp to say.
Instead, the words line up in my head and then… drift away.
“That’s… comforting,” I manage.
Derek notices. I can tell.
“Nothing happened last night,” he says firmly.
I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
Probably both.
“Well,” Mark says thoughtfully, “something did happen.”
Derek elbows him hard.
My pulse spikes. “What?”
“Some asshole drugged you,” Mark says, “and Derek saved you.”
Poof.
Deflated hope.
“Who drugged me?” I squeak.
“When I came up to the bar,” Derek says, voice controlled but tight, “a guy offered to pay for your drinks. You ordered both. When you reached for your clutch, he lifted one of the glasses.”
He watches me carefully.
“He was detained,” Derek continues. “And arrested.”
I fall back against the pillows.
“Wow,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
My stomach twists. “Holy shit. I was roofied?”
“Something along those lines,” he confirms. “The hospital ran tests.”
Hospital.
Right.
“Shannon wasn’t in any shape to take care of you,” he adds.
“So… you did?” I ask quietly. “Why?”
“Because he—” Mark starts.
Derek elbows him again.
“Because someone had to,” Derek says. “I didn’t mind.”
I don’t know why that sticks with me.
“What’s to get?” he asks when I frown.
“Why?” I press. “It meant you going home alone when everyone knows you don’t do that.”
“I did leave with someone,” he says evenly. “You.”
My eyes widen.
Then narrow.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“We know,” Alex says gently. “But taking care of you was more important.”
Mark hands me a bottle of water.
I gulp the first swallow, then swirl the second around my mouth before swallowing again.
“Oh my God,” I sigh. “That’s heaven.”
“Wait,” I say suddenly. “You all took care of me?”
“Absolutely,” Mark says, sitting on the foot of the bed.
Heat creeps up my neck. “Uh… who changed my clothes?”
Mark smirks. “We’ll never tell.”
Holy shit.
Pierce: 2.
Sullivan: 1
Though technically…
Mark took that round.