I had no idea how long I'd been out when I began to regain consciousness. My neurons had been scrambled one too many times today, and I was really struggling trying to resurface. The floor was hard and cold beneath me.
My first thoughts were of Ranger. I said a silent prayer to God, begging him to find any excuse to keep Ranger in the hospital so as not to walk into certain death. I wasn't a very good Catholic, but I could usually muster some faith in crucial moments like this. My second thought was of Diesel. I was feeling pretty let down. Diesel hadn't swooped in to save me yet.
My stomach was rolling and my heartbeat felt irregular. My skin was clammy, and my pants were wet. I'd seen guys I'd stun gunned pee their pants before, but this was a discouraging, humiliating first for me. I forced my brain to send a message to my fingers. Wiggle, already! I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't.
When I had been zapped, I had four hours to live. There was no way to tell how much of that time had elapsed in an unconscious state. Maybe it's for the best, I thought. Less time to panic and less time to think about my regrets.
"The bellibone looks to be waking, sir," I heard Hatchett say.
I was shocked when there was no response. I begged my eyes to cooperate.
Open, I told them.
My eyes fluttered half open, and I tried to take in my surroundings.
Hatchett was sitting on the stairs in his medieval getup with a cell phone to his ear. He was studying me and listening to a one-ended conversation. Wulf was nowhere in sight. I guessed he was on the other end of the phone line.
"Aye, sir," said Hatchett, then disconnected.
I lay on the floor, making an extreme effort to fully regain consciousness. I wiggled my toes, my fingers, and my nose. I tried to push away the fuzzy, tingly feelings left from getting zapped.
"How long was I out?" I asked Hatchett.
"Around an hour, maiden," he responded, looking uncomfortable.
I struggled to sit up, but managed after several attempts. I tugged at my restraints, but they were tight.
"Now is not the time to be teenful, m'lady," said Hatchett, studying me. "Wulf will be back 'fore the morrow. Do not force me to rip your intestines from thy body and gift them to my master."
I had no idea what eighty percent of his medieval speak meant, but I interpreted his statement to mean I had a few more minutes without Wulf in the stairwell. If I was going to escape, now was the time to bolt. I knew Wulf was a threat, but I was having a hard time accepting Stephen Hatchett as much of a threat. His wooden sword was the least of my worries, and I doubted he could run well in his armor plate, scabbard, and tabard.
I sat quietly, waiting for an opportunity. I stretched out my muscles and feigned boredom. After ten minutes of quiet sitting, Hatchett decided he was bored with playing bodyguard and he pulled his phone from his pocket. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but based on the sounds coming from his phone, I was guessing a game. I let him play long enough to get really enthralled, then I jumped to my feet and bolted for the door.
"Stop, serf!" Hatchett yelled.
I reached the handle, wrenched it open with my tethered hands, and bolted into a parking garage. I broke into a dead run, willing my feet to stay under me.
This is the same parking garage I got snagged from, I thought. Hidden in plain sight.
I ran out the front entrance into the street, and continued running in the direction of the hospital down the center line of the one-way road. I heard the sound of thundering feet behind me, but I continued running.
"Stop, wench!" I heard from behind me.
Cars honked, and someone in a red Chevy Malibu gave me the finger. I made it to the first intersection, and I cut back onto the sidewalk.
I took a chance and glanced behind me just in time to see Hatchett get hit by a silver Mercedes sedan in the middle of the road. His body rolled onto the hood of the car before being thrown ten feet forward onto the pavement. Cars screeched to a stop, and a truck honked its horn.
I stood in open-mouthed horror for a few seconds before my brain registered to run again. I couldn't afford to be caught by Wulf. I sprinted up the three additional blocks to the hospital, instructing myself to keep breathing and not to stop moving. I charged into the emergency room entrance and bent at the waist, sucking in air.
When I glanced up, I realized a dozen people in the waiting room were staring at me in horror. I checked myself out, realizing my hands were still tied in front of me and my pants were still wet. How the hell does somebody explain that? I figured I'd go for practical rather than explanatory.
I walked to the ER administrator's desk.
"Do you happen to have some scissors?"
She stared at me with a blank look.
"If you do, would you do me a solid and clip this?" I asked, extending my arms to her.
It took her a minute, but she dug around in her desk and came out with a pair of orange-handled scissors.
"Do you need help?" she managed to ask.
"Nope, I'm fine," I said. "I just need you to cut this, please."
She cut my restraints, I thanked her, and I bolted into the hospital.
"Ma'am?" she shouted after me, but I kept running.
I reached the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the third floor. I sprinted towards room 318 and almost ran down a herd of medical staff in the process.
"Sorry!" I shouted over my shoulder. I made it to Ranger's room, gripping the door frame and pulling myself in wordlessly.
Ranger was sitting on the bed, dressed in black cargo pants and boots. Lester was struggling to assist Ranger into a black shirt, but Ranger's pain and limited mobility seemed to be an issue. The shirt had made it over his head and halfway onto one arm. Ranger's brain monitor had been removed, and his hair was wild man of Borneo with bald patches intermingled with wild patches of dark, unruly hair.
Dr. Tso was standing next to the bed in a white lab coat, and he didn't look happy. Two nurses were also in the room. I recognized one as Molly.
"Mr. Manoso, I can't advise you leaving. You are still unstable. You need two more days' minimum, and you require significant physical therapy. You have an MRI scheduled this hour. I cannot in good faith…" said Dr. Tso.
I figured I might as well put his mind at ease since no one had noticed my thundering entry, so I interrupted him.
"He's not going anywhere," I said, crossing to the bed in three steps.
All eyes were on me as I stood at bedside. Horrified looks crossed everyone's faces. I assumed I didn't look great.
I placed my hand lightly on Ranger's shoulder.
"Babe," Ranger said, sounding relieved but looking concerned.
"Can we have a minute?" I asked of the doctor.
He looked like she wanted to respond, so I saved him the trouble.
"He'll be staying. I need to talk to him in private, though."
He nodded, and he left followed by the nurses.
Lester gave up trying to wrench Ranger's uncooperative arm into his shirt and went to stand by the door. He pulled out his cell phone, dialed, and held it to his ear for a low conversation. I assume he was calling off the search parties who were undoubtedly scouring the streets of Atlanta to find me.
"Are you okay?" Ranger asked, extending his arm to touch my side with his warm hand.
"Yes, Wulf snatched me on the street. I got away when he left me alone with Hatchett."
He studied me for a moment with an exhausted expression, the bruises on his face fully bloomed to purple and black. He looked like hell.
"You have a burn on your neck shaped like a handprint," Ranger finally said. "And did you wet your pants?"
"Crap," I sighed. "It's a long story."
"Babe," Ranger sighed.
I had known about the urine incident, but I didn't realize I had Wulf's handprint on my neck. It's no wonder the people in the emergency room looked at me like I had grown trees out of my ears.
"I'm sorry about the phone call earlier. I didn't want you to come for me. I wanted you to stay somewhere safe," I admitted.
Ranger nodded. "I never could have left you," he said earnestly, his expression serious. "I'm sorry about earlier, with the physical therapist. The sooner I'm moving, the sooner I'm out of here. It hurt like hell though."
"I know," I said, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. "I need a minute."
I crossed to the closet and pulled out my jeans from yesterday at the black bikini underwear I'd worn overnight. I stepped into the bathroom, shucking my black Nike tennis shoes, cargo pants and underwear before slipping into the dry clothes.
I stepped back into the room and crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Ranger.
"Did you know Wulf wants to get his hands on you?" I asked hesitantly.
Ranger's face grew cold and hard. He have a small nod.
"Why?" I asked, reaching to take his hand in mine. I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb, trying to coax a response from him.
"He thinks I can help him."
"With?" I asked, trying to coax more information from him.
"The way I understand it, he's on a quest to find some historic charms," said Ranger. "He's having a hard time convincing the individuals who own those charms to give them up."
"And you would help…. How?"
Ranger didn't answer, sitting in silence on the bed.
"Earth to Batman?" I asked.
He turned his neck to look me in the eye, his eyes asking an unspoken question. It made my heart stutter around in my chest a bit, and I assumed this was the answer to a question I'd held for a long time.
"You're unmentionable," I stated rather than asking. Somewhere deep down, I knew it had to be true. What else would Wulf want with him? And Ranger has always seemed to possess skills outside of normal.
He held eye contact with me, looking for something. He didn't speak.
I squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smirk.
"If you think that's going to scare me off, you've got another thing coming."
The tension Ranger had been carrying in his face and shoulders seemed to ease.
"Are you like Diesel? Do you find people?" I asked, curious.
"No," Ranger said, finally speaking. "I wouldn't need to put trackers on your cars and in your purse if I was like Diesel."
I guess he had a point there.
"I haven't done much to explore or exploit my unmentionable talents," Ranger said, "but I am told I have the power to be very persuasive."
I turned that thought over and over in my head to digest it, and it became very clear it was true. Ranger had a gaggle of men in black who followed him faithfully and without question. He wasn't exactly a charismatic leader with an abundance of words, but he had always come off as a strong leader with a faithful following. He had also amassed a fortune selling services as a business man, attracting clients and persuading them to purchase services. Plus, he had always had finesse taking in skips that I could only dream about.
"I smell burning, babe," Ranger said, his voice tired but amused.
"Just thinking," I explained.
A frightening thought crossed my mind, and it slipped out before I could hold it back.
"You never used your power of persuasion to get me… into your bed?" I blurted out.
"No, babe," he said, squeezing my hand. "That would have been wrong. Like I've always said, you say when and for how long I am in your bed."
The relief I felt at that was palpable, and this knowledge reinforced that Ranger was a good guy, even if his exterior screamed 'mercenary'. I really did love him.
I stood and wrapped my arms around Ranger's neck. I placed my finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet his lips with mine. The kiss started off gentle, but it heated up quickly. I heard Lester clear is throat from the doorway, and I broke from the kiss, panting. Ranger actually looked a little disappointed.
"Sorry," I whined.
Lester laughed.
"Can we get you into something more comfortable since you're not leaving the hospital to go save the world now?" I asked Ranger, studying his pants & half-on shirt.
He nodded, and I bent to my knees, removing his boots and socks. I stood and tugged his shirt off his head and his arm out. I studied his sutured chest and grimaced. It looked awful.
"I'm sorry I caused you worry," I said, feeling incredibly guilty he'd gone to the trouble to get unhooked from all his medical equipment and get man-handled into clothes in an effort to rescue me. I touched my fingertips to the bandage on his chest, then to the bandage on his arm.
"It's my fault," Ranger said, looking frustrated. "Once again we're in a situation where being close to me has you in danger."
A wave of worry hit me.
"Don't go getting ideas," I said to Ranger, my tone severe. "I'm not going anywhere."
He nodded acknowledgment.
"Let's get you out of these cargo pants. They have to be killing your leg. Plus, I'd love an excuse to undress you."